Tonight the city of Seattle is my playground. As I stand in the wind-blown rain atop a fifteen story building at 5pm watching them, people, milling about I become more and more disgusted by them. I've killed one already today. I want very much to kill another, maybe even two before night's end. I've lost track now, maybe eighteen or nineteen, I don't really know. I don't care either. Every single one I kill stops another voice I hear in my head, and there are many voices. So...there will be many killings.

I must go home now and prepare for tonight. I look down at the 14inch Bowie hunting knife in my right hand. It's covered in drying blood and bits of yellow flesh. The Seattle rain isn't enough to wash it clean. No matter. The guy I gutted today fought back, fought back hard! He even hurt me! That mustn't happen again. Maybe my blade is dull. Yes, I'm sure that it is. The other one, attached to my left hip is fine I'm sure. I haven't used it since I sharpened it. I am very tired, must rest.

I descend to street level and hale a taxi. The wind blows hard, my black trenchcoat opens as I climb into the back seat. By the look on his face it's obvious that he saw my knives, I lean forward and make eye contact in the rearview mirror..."Do we have a problem driver?" His eyes widen, in fear, not aggression..."No sir, where to?" As I'm telling him the address I'm also scanning his thoughts. If I hear this guy's voice or his thoughts in my head I'm going to have to slit his throat. This thought doesn't bother me in the slightest of course, I'm just kind of tired now.

(tunnel rat, that's what they call me, the sarge is calling for the tunnel rat, he says there's maybe ten vc dug in deep, it's my job to go in after them, i grab my knives, fuck a gun, the space is too cramped to fire a weapon down there, i hate doing this but it's war, me or them, i choose th...)

"We're here" the driver yells. "Sorry man, were you sleeping?" As I'm paying I scan him quickly...nothing...good I need rest too badly. I can't remember the last time I slept. Was it Tuesday? I don't know. No matter. I have to prepare now then I can rest.

As I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror of my shithole, rat infested apartment I hear them...voices...too many of them to make anything out clearly. I open the cabinet and search through a dozen prescription bottles. I've figured out that if I mix two red ones with two blue ones it gives the voices a see-saw effect, they're up and loud for a bit but then down and muted for a while. That's better than nothing I guess. I''ve also learned that the yellow ones, painkillers, make dealing with the voices a lot easier. I pop two reds, two blues and eight yellows. Time to sharpen my knife.

(the sarge is gone man, he's dead, what the fuck are you talking about?, we were ambushed in the jungle they got the sarge and bill and chuck man, shut the fuck up and show me where,..........right here man, where the fuck they go?, they dug in man tunnels, i ain't fucking going down there man, how many?, i don't know man maybe six, fuck i forgot to sharpen my kni....)

Shit, must have been dozing. I look at the clock, it's only 8pm. I decide to sharpen both knives for some reason. The voices are especially bad today, it's ok, at least one more will be gone tonight. That makes me smile, it's the only thing that does.

I take a cab back into the city and begin to walk the rooftops. After an hour the voices are driving me insane, I take two more reds and two more blues and five more yellows. The yellows slow the reflexes I've noticed. The voices quickly subside. Perfect timing...there appears to be an event of some kind ending down the street. I make my way to street level and find two women walking my way. I can hear their thoughts already, sickening evil thoughts, the closer they get the louder they are. I follow them home, smiling.

"Got any info officer?"

"Just the first names sir, Sally and Jenny. It's on their name tags. Looks like they were at one of those speed dating things last night."

"Did we find any evidence?"

"Only one thing sir, a single bloody footprint."

Deunan