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Director Alexander Anderson hadn’t slept in three nights. Instead, he obsessively poured over reams and reams of files on the enigmatic psychopath known only as Nightmare. Anderson had been studying the tendencies of the killer for almost a decade after the monster had violently butchered his only son. 

For a long time, Anderson was convinced that this killer was supernatural in origin, and his organization’s investigations into the slaying that he committed did little to dissuade that theory. However, with the sudden emergence of the so called meta humans, Anderson really didn’t know what he was dealing with. 

His familiarity with the tendencies with the monster also allowed him to take certain precautions. Knowing that Nightmare generally strikes every three days once he has begun a cycle, he was able to personally organize STRIKE patrols all over the city in the hopes of preventing another slaughter. Unfortunately, the reports coming in over the wire indicate that once again, he’s failed to prevent this monster’s killing spree. 

As soon as the scene had been discovered by the local police, Anderson had personally dispatched a small unit to the scene in order to keep the story under wraps, at least until he was able to get there personally. Marcus Ryder, one of Anderson’s oldest friends, and one of the best agents he had ever had the privilege to know was in charge of the operation.

Anderson could see the flashing emergency lights from over a half a block away. As he approached the scene, he saw a slew of police cars as well as his own agency’s vehicles blocking access to the area to any wandering eyes. Anderson was pleased with how quickly Ryder and his team had taken control of the scene. After parking his car and making his way toward the crime scene, he was stopped suddenly by a patrol officer who was guarding the perimeter of the crime scene.

“Sorry buddy, you’ll have to keep moving.” The cop said in a commanding tone.

“I’m Director Alexander Anderson, of STRIKE. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” The cop, an older man with graying hair interrupted.

“I don’t care if you’re The Pope, you ain’t going in there.” 

“Hey! He’s with us. Let him through.” Came a voice from within the crime scene. 

The cop looked toward the speaker and shook his head resentfully as Marcus Ryder made his way toward the two men. 

“Fine. Go ahead.” The cop said dejectedly as he began muttering under his breath some choice words for “the goddamm feds” as the pair of STRIKE agents made their way into the crime scene.

“What do you have Marcus?” Anderson asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s a f*cking massacre Alex. Bodies and body parts everywhere, we have what’s left of a limo that looks like it was beaten in with a sledgehammer and then scratched to hell. It’s pretty bad…even for him.” Ryder said, detailing what he had scene.

Ryder led Anderson to message which had been left by the monster for the city. When Anderson saw the numerous severed heads laying beside the message, he felt a renewed rage wash over him. He had seen this time after time, and he was beginning to grow tired of playing catch up to the killer.

“Document everything and get it filed. Then clean this mess up. I don’t want anybody to know what went on here tonight. I won’t let this city fall into a panic because of this sick freak.” Anderson ordered as he turned and made his way back to his car.