Journal

Raubtier sat atop the brick-red building, looking emotionlessly out at the bay about 200 yards away. Tonight was dull... just as any other night in Port Orchard, Washington, no clubs to watch over, no people out even past 11:00 pm without scholastic or work-related intent.

Not that it mattered... she couldn't show herself anyway. The media would have a field day, and scientists would forever lock her in a hermedically-sealed cage, to study and learn from her. Bastards, she thinks. Standing, stretching her leathery wings and reptilian arms and legs, she leapt from the three-story building and, catching an updraft, glided through the cold night air.

It was cloudy... she didn't need to worry about being a shadow to spot in the moon or the stars, she noticed with a dark smirk. Her white, pupilless, irisless eyes looked over Port Orchard, when she heard, near Marcus Whitman Junior High, sounds of people hitting other people. She landed on the roof, folding her wings in tightly, glaring intently into the darkness.

Three baked-looking, large males were surrounding a smaller male, each in turn throwing a punch or a kick, growling between grit teeth a comment.

"Fucking faggot!" A sickening thud, and a groan.

"Ass-monger!" said another. A loud crack, and a pained outcry.

"Never show your face here again, you fuckin' homo!" Anoter thud, and a loud "oof!".

Raubtier growled, glaring feverishly. These morons were pounding on a gay! The small male fell to his knees, then his side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, a white, but blood-stained rib poking out through his chest.

Just as the biggest muscle-head was drawing his foot back for the final blow, aimed at his head, Raubtier launched herself at the assailants, her shriek piercing the night air, eyes absolutely animal as she bowled over the bullies. Blood spewed from open, yet not fatal wounds, the three screaming in terror.

"Run! It's a fucking monster!!" The three fled, clutching their faces, shoulders, backs, clothes, and flesh torn from body, exposing skin and blood.

Raubtier howled her victory, chasing the three away. When she returned to the scene, however, she found the injured also fleeing for his life, leaving a trail of blood as clear as daylight to her olfactory senses.

She sighed... some gratitude. Licking blood from her talons, she turned, spread her wings, and flew back to the black night, satisfied she'd helped an innocent.