(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.