BrotherGustadt
First Post
Codename: Mister Hyde
AKA: “Edward”
Mission: Replenish his stock of transformation formula
Tactics: Steal the component chemicals from a nearby railyard
Location: Morgantown, Pennsylvania
Bob Allen shivered as a breeze cut straight through his nylon jacket, and tried to tell himself it was just the breeze making him shiver. He'd never particularly liked working the night shift at the railyard; a lingering childhood fear of the dark, perhaps, or simple cowardice, as his wife suggested. Add to it the recent thefts and the reports from other security men that a hulking, cloaked figure had been sighted in the yard, and the middle-aged Allen found himself very uncomfortable indeed.
Stil, he had a job to do, and he set about doing it. He and two other men walked a constant circuit of the railyard, watching, listening, probing dark corners with their flashlights and staying in radio contact. It was lonely, tedious work, but it paid the bills and kept the Allens far more secure than his brother, who seemed content losing money on every get-rich scheme that came his way. Pish. Thinking of his gadabout brother distracted him from his duties, as it often did, and so did Bob fail to see or hear the massive shadow that moved with a surprising grace and precision across the rail behind him.
Mister Hyde resisted the urge to introduce the security guard to his fist; a rash of thefts was one thing, but even a single murder tended to attract far too much attention for his immediate comfort. He was beginning to run low on his stock of the formula needed to maintain this monstrous form, and he'd just as soon not spoil this convenient source for the component chemicals. But if one of them would just give him an excuse...his contorted face twisted slightly in what might have been a wistful smile.
Powerful fingers twisted off the five-pound padlock that must have seemed so substantial to the men who placed it there. Iron muscle and bowstring tendons opened the valve underneath the tanker car, rapidly filling two 55-gallon drums with an acrid, colorless fluid. He had just finished capping the drums and was about to make his departure when he realized that he was not alone.
With a bestial growl escaping his lips, Hyde turned to face...
AKA: “Edward”
Mission: Replenish his stock of transformation formula
Tactics: Steal the component chemicals from a nearby railyard
Location: Morgantown, Pennsylvania
Bob Allen shivered as a breeze cut straight through his nylon jacket, and tried to tell himself it was just the breeze making him shiver. He'd never particularly liked working the night shift at the railyard; a lingering childhood fear of the dark, perhaps, or simple cowardice, as his wife suggested. Add to it the recent thefts and the reports from other security men that a hulking, cloaked figure had been sighted in the yard, and the middle-aged Allen found himself very uncomfortable indeed.
Stil, he had a job to do, and he set about doing it. He and two other men walked a constant circuit of the railyard, watching, listening, probing dark corners with their flashlights and staying in radio contact. It was lonely, tedious work, but it paid the bills and kept the Allens far more secure than his brother, who seemed content losing money on every get-rich scheme that came his way. Pish. Thinking of his gadabout brother distracted him from his duties, as it often did, and so did Bob fail to see or hear the massive shadow that moved with a surprising grace and precision across the rail behind him.
Mister Hyde resisted the urge to introduce the security guard to his fist; a rash of thefts was one thing, but even a single murder tended to attract far too much attention for his immediate comfort. He was beginning to run low on his stock of the formula needed to maintain this monstrous form, and he'd just as soon not spoil this convenient source for the component chemicals. But if one of them would just give him an excuse...his contorted face twisted slightly in what might have been a wistful smile.
Powerful fingers twisted off the five-pound padlock that must have seemed so substantial to the men who placed it there. Iron muscle and bowstring tendons opened the valve underneath the tanker car, rapidly filling two 55-gallon drums with an acrid, colorless fluid. He had just finished capping the drums and was about to make his departure when he realized that he was not alone.
With a bestial growl escaping his lips, Hyde turned to face...
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