‘He’s the one…’ He said in his dark and dank sanctum, his voice echoing on the crumbled walls and damp cinder block floor that was covered in scraps and pictures. He sat in his molded chair as a king would a throne. If he were royalty, then the place he was in right now would be the kingdom of Hell. Rats worshipped him at his feet. A single little creature scurried across his arm, only to be grabbed by his grimy hands, and squeezed to death for his pleasure. The rat’s blood dripped off the tip of his knife-like fingernails, making him smirk and reveal his filed teeth. He was the hunter…

…and he already spotted his prey.