In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
Albert Camus (1913 - 1960)

He left. Fuck him.
I'll kill them both. Lost his bet. Damn it. The bastard part of it is... he was right. I left survivors. I stopped. I'm here.
I'm thinking clearer. Already. Daku fucked with my head. I let him; I didn't care. My head's not the part you gotta worry about. This could be good. Now Simmons has got to deal with that shit crawling around in his head.
So he left. Fuck him.
I feel things lining up. Destroyer's coming. Through the death of a girl, through my rage, through Rids. Simmons. Daku. I'll never die, I'll never stop. Your lives are already over.

The thrall of the Destroyer.
The look of fear in people's eyes. Not just fear. Not like the knowing that something's gonna snatch your life. No -- the fear of everything you know unraveling right in front of you, covered in your own blood. I don't just kill. Fenris doesn't breed killers. I am a Destroyer. Like my Father.
Have you ever destroyed a person? Felt as their being ran through your fingers? As what they hold dear in the world is torn away and replaced?
It was like old times again. I punished them for being human. For feeling human things and living in their fucking human world. I took it away from them. In blood. And brains.
I felt the rush. And I liked it.

(The following was taken from a journal found in Paul Crammond's room. The pages are torn and spotted with blood. What is written was deciphered as best was possible from shorthand.)

Came down... Deceptively... for a man of his age... empowered... try as I might, made no progress reading... confident, and I was more than a little embarrassed... so easily read my fear. Carthage... pre-warning, and... instructed not to talk, establish eye... sweat...
...was dark... could see was a mass... immobilized but breathing slow... talked for several minutes... no voice answered... chain gleaming soft in what little... like I was... with Death. This man had... involving barbed-wire, taking his... splitting his head... half, eating the rest... ten men and three tranquilizers... completely unmoving.
...speak because he does not need to speak... cannot hear... no accident he arrived here, do you understand? Fail to learn... like my former colleague... stronger now, attributing... with weapons, others with words...
Something terrible... will not be here to see... fail to learn...
...bad is going to happen...

There's no time for words anymore. The Death Wolf's at my heels again; this time he ain't gettin' tired. Destroyer -- I tried to kill 'em, but I got confused again... just like the old days. For every one I missed, I'll kill a hundred more... you watch. Fight. Walk in fighting, leave fighting -- talk is for pussies. I get confused... keep hearin' old men say I might learn somethin' -- but I never do. The answer's always right there -- tooth and claw, blood and metal.
Gotta keep focused. Fuck words. I have no words. Just follow. Fight. Like the ancient days. Hunt. Kill. And when it's over, die. That's all there is.
I smell fear in my pack. Afraid to die.
Now I know what your question means, Destroyer. I am prepared to die. But I'm going down hard, and against the world.
I failed you Destroyer. But I have before, I will again. You know when I fail, I get strong. I get mad. I get even.

From the Desk of Dr. Daniel Goran

It's an honor to be in contact with you, Dr. Carthage. Nikolai Dwintzliev's book Lust for Blood: The Killer's Eyes was a source of inspiration in my early work. The patient, whom I've named "Nicholas DeWinter" in his honor, has many characteristics of the patients described in that text. I think you'll find him a delight.
I've never heard of Dr. Lugwae, but if you approve his credentials, I'm all for the move. He'll be transported (with the help of a few of my friends in the United States Marine Corps) to your facility overseas via private aircraft. His sedations have been timed to keep him under for the duration of the trip, although I have warned persons involved that standard measures of restraint have proven ineffective in the past.
I've included the patient's file in this envelope, and look forward to working with your team in the future.

Sincerely yours,

D. Goran

On the blood I smelled panic. Not fear.
They're calling me out. Simmons sent a clown to do his dirty work. Fucking coward. Or maybe too busy... we're walkin' into a shitstorm. Calling me out. I'll come. There's gonna be hurt -- lots of it. Weak-minded bastards. There's only one way to show them he's not what he says...
Father Wolf doesn't want me to kill my brothers... but I will. I'll kill the Uratha, I'll kill the Pure... if they aren't worthy to run with me, they're fucked. A warrior must judge, and execute.
I'm taking it from him. Only I have the strength. They'll see...