Darkness Falls

Chapter 2

13 hours later.

Jack Russell tore off his blood-stained rubber gloves and threw them in the waste receptacle next to him. Then he picked up a sealed file folder on the operating tray laying next to him and tossed it towards Aleia herself.

"It's all there boss lady. Everything I could discern from our nameless vic." He said with an exhausted look.

Aleia picked up the folder and unwound the red string and pored over the contents of the resulting autopsy examination.

"Thanks, Jack. You're a virtual life saver." She complimented openly. "I couldn't have done this without you." Then she started to read his analyses beginning with the initial report and then spreading out towards the charted x-ray graphs.

Shattered femur, massive internal injuries, ruptured spleen, ruptured pancreas...it was all there. The diagnoses, the in-depth notes. Everything.

Her assistant kept a practical record of everything notable about their unintended victims. Right down to their dental records and eye color.

Because–as the way he put it–you may never know when a minor detail would be able shed some significant light on the problem at hand.

Or mystery.

And this guy certainly fit the bill. Not only was he a John Doe, but Jack couldn't even begin to determine his exact age. From all looks of things, he appeared to be in his mid to late forties. But a detailed DNA analysis couldn't even crack the genetic code this guy had. No secrets given up this time it seemed.

So he could be either forty or four hundred years old and we would never know. The woman mused and moved onto the toxicology report that was thicker than her arm.

"Shit," she breathed in astonishment–not believing her eyes.

This guy was not only a werewolf, but he was also a habitual user of practically everything known to man. Chemical analysis catalogued fifteen different types of narcotics and illegal substances–a few she had never heard of–and a long history of alcohol abuse.

Enlarged heart, diseased liver, Stage 3 kidney failure...?

Aleia's mind bulged a bit at that staggering thought of having lived like this and shown very little signs of distress.

But it sure beat all those stories and legends of werewolves being in perfect health and such. The suitable alpha male which every female in existence yearned for and ultimately desired.

"Did he even know?" She mused quietly to herself, moving off to the side to go to her desk to grab a Pixie stick and tear off the top. She sucked on the tip thoughtfully, while continued to read her assistant's notes and other detailed reports on the guy in question.

"Missing teeth, signs of Periodontal disease..." she continued to reflect out loud. "Well, this guy certainly had his mountains of health problems. But why didn't he seek medical treatment for them?"

It would've been a simple matter. But from where she stood, it became apparent that the vic in question simply didn't want any help. He was just content to live life however he saw fit–even though he was already dying.

Dying yes, but immortal just the same.

Which made this problem an even bigger mystery.

Aleia sighed to herself, sucking on her stick a little bit more and consciously tearing off more of the wrapper so that she could get to the tart sugar inside.

"Jack?" She called out, grabbing her assistant's attention.

"What is it?" He fired back, still going over some paperwork for a moment before walking over to the special chemical sink to wash his hands.