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    WHAT MAKETH A MAN
    WHAT MAKETH A MAN
    WHAT MAKETH A MAN
    Ebook103 pages1 hour

    WHAT MAKETH A MAN

    By Writ

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    WHAT MAKETH A MAN?

    To the external observer, there was nothing extraordinary about him; he had lived what would seem, to the disinterested, a very normal, almost boring life, a steady job, an unremarkable upbringing in a non-descript town by almost-invisible parents, brothers, and sisters. He had gone to school without c

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHILLFIELD
    Release dateSep 26, 2016
    ISBN9781782808985
    WHAT MAKETH A MAN

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      Book preview

      WHAT MAKETH A MAN - Writ

      WHAT MAKETH A MAN?

      BY

      Writ

      The Beginning

      To the external observer, there was nothing extraordinary about him; he had lived what would seem, to the disinterested, a very normal, almost boring life, a steady job, an unremarkable upbringing in a non-descript town by almost-invisible parents, brothers, and sisters. He had gone to school without creating, or even leaving any kind of impression upon his fellow students, indeed, any of those he had known would have great difficulty in remembering him at all.

      But all this was part of his skill and subtle strength. Although he had known immediately he was different in some way, right from his very smallest beginnings, he had the innate sense to realise that he had to hide his true self, blend in, keep a low profile at all times, for he knew that the outsider in society is never made welcome, that he would easily become a target for those who do not readily welcome the different.

      For he was different. Yet even he himself did not have any idea of the full powers he possessed, at least until that terrible day in August when everything in his life changed forever.

      Six men. They had killed his children and raped and abused his young wife before also ending her time in this World. The life that he thought he knew was destroyed, completely vanished as if it had never been. He was left suddenly alone, more alone than he had ever thought possible. Even his loved ones had not truly known who he was, what he was deep inside, but his beloved family were the only beings in existence who had kept him this side of sanity, considering all that had been going on secretly inside his head, his private thoughts of his status on this small planet, and all the confusion surrounding who he really was, what he was.

      But all that was changed. Since that terrible day, he had become someone else, his real self was made fully known to him, and there was nothing left to hold him back, to prevent his destiny. As he solitarily walked through the dead leaves of yet another fading year, the wind gathered the leaves around his feet and howled, as if in fear and mourning of what was yet to come.

      They would face the full wrath of his Potential.

      ONE – Aftermath of a Death

      Sumner was puzzled. As he sat at his desk, slouched lazily back in his chair, feet sprawled across the desk itself, he studied the report of the incident from the night before, hardly knowing what to make of it all. A man had been found dead outside and far below his apartment, virtually splattered across the yard as if flung from the balcony twenty floors high above where the pathetic remains of his body lay. Worse still, even after this horrible death, his limbs had been torn from his body by some great force, as yet to be determined by a post-mortem.

      Stranger still, witnesses had heard the man’s screaming, and ran to see his body falling horribly to the ground, making a dreadful sickening sound as it reached ground zero, broken like the soft flesh of an apple thrown from an aeroplane, innards scattered and dispersed in sickening disarray.

      Worse was to come for the unfortunate observers of the man’s misfortune. An obscure dark and dimly-lit figure was seen to suddenly approach the fallen object, at first, he was perceived as someone there to help, as was the instinct of all who witnessed this dreadful event from their own balconies above, but to everyone’s horror, they saw the man, dressed like a dark leopard, moving so swiftly they could scarcely discern his outline, pulling the already disfigured body apart, throwing the limbs across the yard with a force and feeling that seemed to suggest more than mere anger, rage, animal fury, a bestial destruction of what was left of the life and mortal remains of what had once been a man.

      This was all dreadful and difficult enough to take in, but the witness accounts spoke of how swiftly this strange dark shape had moved, like a film speeded up was how one witness described it, the force, the power, was  incredibly fast, unbelievably strong, everything had happened in an instant, then he was gone, the yard was dark and silent again, only the horrific sight of what lay there, silently waiting for the dreaded morning light to expose the full truth of what had taken place.

      Sumner could not fully absorb what he was reading. Had the witness account been made by one person, he would instantly have dismissed it as some crank, or fantasist, but given that this was not the case, what was he to make of it? The people who had seen this happen insisted that it was not an animal, some dark panther, but a man, albeit a man whose actions had all the speed and power of an animal, mythical or otherwise – And if this man had been the one to throw the unfortunate victim from his balcony, how did he arrive in the yard only seconds after the sickening sound of the man hitting the ground? Witnesses were very specific about the time frame within all this happening – But how was such a thing possible?

      Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Sumner’s brief, this kind of thing. His squad officers were perfectly capable of dealing with murders, which were by no means rare in this town, violence was normal enough, sad as it that was, but it was routine that did not usually reach Sumner’s desk, unless it was major crime, or a shocking child murder or abduction that was likely to hit the press and TV. But he could tell that even his case-hardened team had been shocked by what they had seen and heard, so it had landed on his desk for assessment and comment.

      He sighed wearily, and unwound himself from the comfort of his desk and chair. It was time to go the Ops room, where the team were waiting. As he walked in, the hubbub of noise swiftly subsided – The men were wary of him, they knew he could be a bit of a martinet, having a tendency to frown on anything that smacked of the work not being taken seriously. Then again, he was well liked too, for many times he had defended members of his team from criticism coming from the top drawer, at risk to his own career. For that at least, he had the respect of his team.

      Morning he said, rather formally, marching with purpose towards the large Ops board, where the graphic and horrible photographs of the body were pinned in not-so-glorious technicolour. Even the hardened veterans among the team had never seen anything so wantonly vicious perpetrated before, and an uneasiness hung in the room, pervading the silence, no-one knowing what to expect.

      Sumner studied the faces. Walter Ellis, better know as Wolf, his DS; a tough, uncompromising copper who, previous to this incident, had thought he had seen it all; Safen Mamand, the new DC, a bit green round the ears as well as the gills, on this pale morning with the guts of a man splattered on the board before his eyes, renewing the memory of the real thing from the night before, when he had been violently physically sick, despite the merciful darkness surrounding the scene; Filiz Polat, an attractive Anglo-Kurdish 25 year old police girl, seconded to the team to help with admin as well as liaison duties and anything else that could be put upon her when necessary; Alan ‘Al’ Martin, the more experienced of the two DCs, but still fairly wet round the ears compared to the hard-bitten Wolf. Chief Inspector James Sumner had never seen them so quiet, so subdued as they were today.

      Wolf, what can you tell us? He said, typically not beating about the bush or standing on ceremony.

      The hard-faced DS cleared his throat and, as casually as he could muster, he rose from his slouched position facing the Chief Inspector and turned to face the assembled officers, their faces tense and expectant.

      A man was found in the courtyard of his apartment block, from all accounts, and from the state of the body, he seems to have fallen from his balcony. No post-mortem as yet of course, but death must be assumed to have been instant. Immediately after his fall, someone or something tore his limbs from his body and scattered them across the yard, making a right old bloody mess to say the least. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mamand, involuntarily heaving. He momentarily wondered if the boy was going to throw up again.

      Witnesses? Sumner interjected, wanting to push Wolf faster along the line of enquiry.

      Several heard the man’s distress, the DS said, slightly irritated at the interruption, knowing from past experience the thoughts of his

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