The cameraman focused his lens past the reporter to the scene behind her, where two policemen more or less dragged a scrawny young man to a high-security vehicle. The youth was in handcuffs and gripped securely by his arms, though he was not putting up a fight in the least. His steps seemed weary; he stumbled at the pace the cops pulled him at. The hood he was known to almost always have on was pulled back to reveal a head of choppy white hair, though the bangs hanging in his face were coated in dark red. He was much more than just red-handed - much of his face and torso, his jeans, and his shoes were all covered in blood. The stains included everything from tiny splatters, to long smears, and even some splotches that were absolutely soaked.
The camera panned over to the alleyway the cops had emerged from with the killer. "The murder that led to his capture was of 23-year-old Ingrid Shaw, whose hair was actually dyed a vivid shade of red despite warnings from her friends and family. Like the other murders, the scene was very graphic - Shaw's throat and chest were violently ripped open, and as before no weapon has surfaced even after a search of the killer's person."
Other police at the scene headed back into the alleyway to examine the mess. The girl had been torn open as if by a wild animal, but with only the intention to kill. A pond-sized puddle of her blood was still accumulating across the pavement. Her heart had been pulled out and sat beside her in the pool of blood where it had been dropped.
~
Glazed, dark brown eyes stared with the vigor of a corpse at the empty bench opposite him in the security vehicle. Amon barely registered where he was. His mind was perfectly blank, like a flat desert as barren and lifeless as far as the eye could see, without even the slightest breeze to disrupt its stillness. With every shallow inhale he could smell blood. An overwhelming odor of it, as if he was breathing blood; it was a calming sensation, that for now helped to keep his mind clear of thoughts or memories.
Sometimes when his kills weren't perfectly discreet and he was left in a daze after the crime, authorities would find him and take him in. But they knew they were in over their head. It didn't take them long to realize questioning the killer was useless. So now, on the occasion they captured him, they only detained him until they could get a hold of someone more qualified to handle him... But usually whoever that someone was, was too slow to pick him up, and he had escaped by the time they got there - under 'mysterious circumstances' as always. Sometimes these circumstances were bloody, sometimes they weren't.... All depending on Amonsef's mood whenever he awoke from his stupor.
The media attention his periodic captures garnered caught the eye of vampires and vampire hunters alike. Only to them - and of course some conspiracy theorists - was it obvious exactly what the killer was. Only they truly grasped just what it meant to call him a monster.
~
The killer was taken to the police station without incident, where he was deposited into the highest security cell the station had - which was not very impressive. It was a cell with key code lock, a couple of security cameras, and a security guard - who, in this instance, had three partners as an extra precaution. The youth was placed in the cell alone, where he slowly moved to sit in the back corner after being shoved in. The cell beside his contained two prostitutes, who both huddled at the opposite wall of their cell, staring at the blood-covered young man in horror. At the front of the station, the cop there was dialing number after number on the phone, desperate to find somewhere more secure for the killer as soon as possible.