Dylan turned on the TV. Nothing good was on. “I guess I could do my homework.” Dylan thought. His homework was to watch the news, and without taking any notes, retell what happened in his own words. So he flipped to channel five.

“Breaking news, Monster on the loose in London, he’s taken out half the city in the last 2 hours '! Local law enforcers are trying to stop it as we speak!” There were cops behind a cop car shooting at the figure. It walked over to the car, picked it up, and dropped it on them. Ok. That’s not normal, at all. I don’t think that thing is human. Uh, oh yeah, 3000 have been severely injured, and 200 dead, including 2 scientists.”

“Ok! That’s enough,” said Dylan, who was shaking a little bit. He got up from the couch, and got breakfast.

That was 2 years ago. There was no more London. In fact, there was no more Europe, or Asia. It had all been destroyed. Now, the Destroyer, which is what the media called it, was headed towards the western part of the U.S., for the prey it has been hunting for 2 years. It cracked the ice, and forced himself through. It was late December in Boston. Lake effect snow, sleet and hail were on the days forecast. It noticed it was a little hungry.

"I already ate one of the scientists, a rabbit, a wolf, and 3 bears." It thought, "I could use a snack. It walked towards the scent of meat that it smelled. He went up the stairs, opened the doors, and looked inside. There it saw people eating, laughing, and talking. Out of the corner of its eye, it could see a tall overweight man walking towards him.

"Hello and welcome to our restaurant. May I seat you Mister…?" The man was looking for a name. "Fredrick. Mr. Fredrick, may I seat you?" He had seen the name tag on his uniform.

"No. But if you please come outside for a moment?"

"Why?" the waiter asked.

"There is something that you must see," Said Mr. Fredrick.

"Ok. Whatever." He said.

They both walked out the door. When they got outside, the waiter didn't see anything unusual.

"So what is it you wanted to show," He stopped due to the antagonizing pain in his chest. He looked down and noticed there was a hand coming out of his chest.

"I was going to tell you, you have a hand coming out of your chest,'' Said Mr. Fredrick. The waiter screamed. The scream was heard on the inside of the building. People rushed to the door with a fork and knife, hoping that it would be enough to defend themselves from whatever's out there. They opened the door, and saw nothing but the snowy town. A 3 year old kid came over and laughed.

"Someone spilled cherry sauce."

On the ground, right in front of the doorway, was a pool of blood.

She heard the door close.

"Dylan! Is that you?"

"Yeah mom, it's me." Dylan said.

"Thank goodness. Did you have fun at school today?" She asked.

"I'm a 17 year old kid, 2 of my teachers hate me, and you're asking me if I had fun at school?!?" he asked.

"Yes I am." She said.

"Ok, just making sure." Dylan said. He walked over to the kitchen, and poured himself a cup of milk.

"Do you want to come to the opening of the butcher shop with me?" Dylan's mom asked.

"No. I have a baseball game, remember?" he said.

"Ok, well, I'll see you when I get back." She said.

"You're leaving now?" He asked.

"Yup, it's a 10 minute walk." She said.

"Whatever" said Dylan

He decided break time was over. He had his "snack", and walked around town. So after his last view of the city, and the technology he didn't have 200 years ago, he was off. 575 miles per hour for 5 hours would get him; he didn't care. He needed to find and kill his prey. He needed to find Trippleton.

"Trippleton! You're up!" He stood up, and went to bat. He had been waiting the whole day for this moment. The bases were loaded, and he was last to bat. He held the bat like his life depended on it. We're losing by 3. If I get a grand slam, we can win! Then the pitcher pitched. Trippleton hit the ball as hard as he could. Every body watched in silence as the ball left the park. Grand slam. Every body on the bases was running home, including the batter. Trippleton saw the scoreboard say 'Home 38, visitors 39."

"Dylan, you won us the game," and" Great shot, Dylan". That's what he heard from his teammates. He couldn't wait to the see the headline on the school paper tomorrow. "Dylan Trippleton wins the game!" That would be a great headline.

He could smell him. About 2 miles out. He couldn't wait to get revenge for his death. When he woke up, on the table, he knew Colonel Trippleton wouldn't be there. So he tracked his descendant with his new sense of smell. He was going to go after Dylan Trippleton.

Dylan was at a "We won the game" party. Everybody that Dylan knew was there, and they were partying their little hearts out. Dylan's mom went on a business trip, so when he got home, he had the house to himself. Unless he invited some friends over. But he wasn't going to think about that now. He was going to party until he couldn't anymore.

He felt the bullets pierce his skin. They weren't painful, just annoying. He walked up to 2 of the gang members, and bashed their heads together. He grabbed their guns, and jumped up to the last gang member shooting at him. Fredrick aimed both of the guns, and pulled the trigger. The body fell over with a soft thump! As Fredrick dropped the guns, he was finding it harder to regenerate. That doesn't matter he thought, it will all be over soon. After a 5 minute walk, he reached the house. There was a person standing at the door. Well, I am a little bit hungry.

When the party was over, Dylan started to walk home. He had so much fun at the party, he couldn't stop laughing. While he was laughing, he got a text messages from his mom. It read: One of the employees is not at the meeting. He's probably at our house, which was the original meeting place. If he's there, could you tell him to go to the St. Louis hotel? Thanks. Be back soon, love you!

"Yeah yeah." Dylan muttered. He started chuckling again, and by the time he got home, he couldn't stop laughing. He was unlocking the door, when he realized, there was no door to unlock. He stepped inside, turned on the light, and stopped laughing. The walls were drenched in blood. On the ground, was a heap of clothes, with blood stains on them. Dylan wanted to throw up. But instead he held his breath. He needed to hear everything, excluding his own breath. He heard a slight crunching from somewhere. He tiptoed over to the phone. He was going to call the police. But before he could dial 911, he dropped the phone. Over by the stairway, written in blood, were the words go upstairs.

Dylan didn't know what to do. If he went upstairs, he would die. If he didn't go upstairs, whatever was up there would stay up there, and he could never come home again. Or if it was the killer, he would come down. He walked over to the drawer with the silver ware in it. He opened it, and pulled out the 2 sharpest knives he could find, and then he went upstairs. When he got up there, his room was the only room with the door opened. The others were closed, and had not this one written in blood. He walked into his room, and turned on the light. There was a man sitting at his desk. He looked normal, except for the fact that he was grey, had no hair, had blood all over his face, and was snacking on a hand.

"Hello Dylan. I've been waiting for you." He said.

Dylan's hands were shaking, along with the rest of his body.

"I guess you're wondering who I am. I am Mr. Fredrick. I am here to kill you, since your great grandfather is not here. I've spent 2 years trying to find you, you know?"

"B-but, H-h-h-how, is that?' That's all Dylan could say. He was too scared to speak normally.

"Let's make this fun. I'll give you a 10 minute head start, and when time is up, I will come after you." Dylan could tell he was ready to have fun with this.

"Well go!" He insisted. Dylan closed the door to his room, ran down the stairs, grabbed anything he could find in the kitchen, and threw it at the stairs. Then he was out of the house.

10 minutes were up. Mr. Fredrick got up, broke open the door, and walked down the stairs. He was halfway down when he tripped on a sausage. He landed on some pots. He got up and walked towards the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. He watched the cut on his forehead shrink slower than before. He was running out of regeneration cells. He walked out of the bathroom, and followed Dylan's scent.

Dylan got to the butcher shop, and opened the door. Butcher shop? More like a slaughter house. There were giant pieces of meat hanging from chains. He looked around, and found a long sharp piece of metal, that was way more useful then a knife. So he put one of the knives in his pocket, and picked up the piece of metal. If he was going to go down tonight, he was going to go down fighting. He hid behind one of the giant pieces of meat and waited. A couple seconds later. He heard the door get kicked down.

"Dylan! Where are you?" Mr. Fredrick said in a sing song voice. He walked toward Dylan's scent. When he got close enough, Dylan jumped out, and slit Mr. Fredrick's neck with the long piece of metal. Dylan was shocked to watch it slowly heal.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" asked Mr. Fredrick Then he swung his fist. Dylan ducked and saw an opportunity. He used the knife to cut open Mr. Fredrick's thigh. While Mr. Fredrick was bringing his arm back from the punch, Dylan cut his right triceps open. Then Mr. Fredrick sent Dylan sprawling from his kick. Dylan stood back up, and then fell back down. He felt a sharp pain in his thigh. The knife in his pocket cut open his leg when he fell down. So instead he looked up. He noticed Mr. Fredrick's cuts were still there. Mr. Fredrick noticed it too. Dylan got up, leaned against the wall, pulled the bloody knife out of his pocket, and with the pitching skills he learned from a friend, threw the knife. He watched as it landed In Mr. Fredrick's neck. Then he took the other knife, and threw it. It hit Mr. Fredrick in the forehead. The body fell over with a loud thump.

Dylan limped over to the body. Just to make sure it was dead, he used the piece of metal, and repeatedly beat and cut the body. When he was convinced, he went up to the front of the building, found a phone, called the police, and told them to go to the butcher shop. Then he hung up, and passed out from the bleeding. When he woke up, he was in the hospital. His mom was there, and was so happy he was alive.