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Wild Animal Attack Slaughters Key Family Members, Sources Say
Los Angeles Press, 4 April 1958

Police and investigators uncovered forty bodies today, part of a seemingly ongoing massacre which has been taking place over the past few weeks targeted on the Capriani crime family. Today's bloodbath centered upon Don Capriani's personal residence located just outside Hollywood, California. Don Capriani, however, was not at home at the time of the attack. The details of the murders are unclear but police spokesman Arnold Harrison refers to the mutilations of the bodies as those relative to wild animal attacks.

My gloved fingers laced repeatedly through the raven black fur of the wolf who laid next to me in the alleyway while my eyes scanned over the creased news clipping I'd saved from the last major rampage I'd made this hell of a city see from me. With a smirk on my lips my hand moved to the neck of the tequila bottle that sat next to me and I tipped it to my lips, delighting in a powerful swig. Upon setting it down my eyes met those of my lupine companion. "What?" I asked her before scoffing. "Don't look at me like that, Lei. I don' need a lecture from you about a little sip o' Quervo." I folded the clipping up and sighed, putting it in my pocket only to retrieve a cigarette in its place. "I know you're pissed we never got the fucker," I said while lighting the end of the stick only to take a drag, "but that don' mean we still can't raise hell in this city. C'mon. I'm gettin' bored." I looked down at the well dressed businessman that she and I had shared for the evening's meal while rising to my feet. An apple was taken from the inside pocket of my leather trench coat and set on what remained of the man's chest. My own little personal signature I'd adpoted from my days working for the Capriani family. The night colored wolf stood up as well and walked beside me toward the street.

Things hadn't always been like this. But then I guess that's the way any vampire's story goes. Boring as it sounds, my once upon a time doesn't begin any differently.

I was born Kyle Keith Karver of Nashville, Tennessee, on July 8th, 1932. My parents chose the name because of the initials. They were the teltale symbol of racial hatred that circulated in the south in that era. I was your typical farm boy. Not much to tell. My sister, Leile Anne Karver, was born seven years after I was. It was a bittersweet birthday. Our mother didn't make it through delivery and the loss hit me and dad really hard. He fell into a depression I thought he'd never get out of. He didn't work, hardly slept, and ate even less. It became my responsibility, I guess -- I sorta took it on myself -- to run the farm and take care of my little sister. She was always trying to do what I did even as a little girl. From feedin' the livestock to fixin' the tractor she was in my face, asking questions, gettin' her hands dirty. It was annoying as all sisters go but I never scolded her for it. Fact is I sorta liked the company and the help considerin' I couldn't get it from anywhere else.

Our farm wasn't the typical you'd find in Tennessee. Part of it grew crops. The other part was a wolf ranch. Those animal groups would ask us to watch over wolves that were injured or abandoned and we made kinda a zoo out of it. People would come over every now and then and pay a twenty to come in and see the wolves. I got really good at handlin' 'em. Learned how they communicated and such. It was a fun hobby.. and I grew an affiliation toward them. Little else held my interest. My sister seemed to like 'em even more than me, though. Whenever I couldn't find her, which was pretty often, I always knew to go out to the pens and I could find her playin' with those animals.

When I was 17 the final step in a hard few years came to an end. Between drought and Lei and I the only ones trying to run a farm we came short of cash. The banks were callin' every day, visiting my dad who got arrested a few times 'cause he'd get in fights with the suited guys tryin' to take the place. A man visited us one day.. called himself Al Capriani. I didn't know it at the time but he made a deal that if we helped him grow the plants for narcotics he'd take care of us financially and keep the law off our backs. My dad accepted the deal and before long all kinds of wierd lookin' plants started popping up all over the corn field. Lei and I just tended to 'em like they were anything else. Dad had taken to using those drugs and he turned into someone I never even knew. I guess one day that Al Capriani guy got nabbed by the FBI 'cause those guys came barging in one morning when Lei and I were doing our daily work. All we heard was gunfire. We had to do nothin' more than look at each other and we knew what'd happened. After hiding out until the investigation was over we headed back to the farm to find the place useless. The livestock was gone and the undended crops were beyond repair. We'd lost it all.

As I tossed what we could salvage in the back of the pickup, had Leile strap herself in, a man in a white suit who said he worked for that Capriani guy walked up to me before I could get in the truck. "Kyle?" He asked. Dumb question. "Whaddya want?" I watched him suspiciously, looking for any signs of those FBI guys. "Don't be scared, son, my name's Michael Capriani. I came over here because I heard what happened to your father. Heard you and your sister there got away pretty good. That's not bad work, son. Not bad at all." The meager grin he offered told me something was about to happen. Something big.

By Christmas, 1953, I'd gotten used to the black pinstripe suit I wore while I climed up the ranks pretty well working for the Capriani family. They moved us to a place on the west coast called Los Angeles. Was supposed to be a bigtime town for easy money. Sure enough it was. Between the extortion and racketeering jobs we ran I was rakin' in amazing amounts of cash. I was on my way to bein' a captain, I was told. I was able to take care of everything Leile needed. She'd become my top priority, but more importantly my only family. She meant more to me than I meant to myself. We were inseparable. She never even complained once about the things I had to do, in fact she helped me and my guys plan stuff on occasion. It didn't matter what I did, I was still her hero in her eyes. She was like a third arm.. I couldn't live without her.

That was proven one day when we messed up a job. Sure we messed up jobs before but not this big. A shipment of bank rolls was coming in and we were going to hit it. Leile helped us lay out the plan and we went over it again and again until it was flawless. There'd be no mistakes.. except the fact that a rival family was planning a hit on the same target. We never even saw the truck. Bullets were too busy being exchanged between us and them that the truck avoided us completely. It was that fateful night I committed the biggest no-no in the history of organized crime -- I killed a made man on their side. We rushed out of there as fast as we could hearing the scream of police sirens getting closer to us and my first business was to tell the Don what'd happened. He wasn't pleased, to say the least. When I finally got home I walked in upon the end of my life. With horror I hurried through the broken furniture and the mess from some sort of struggle that'd gone on in my absence and froze when I saw Leile face down on the floor lying in a pool of her own blood. She'd been stripped naked; I didn't need a detective to know what those bastards had done to her. How they'd desecrated her. In blind rage I went to see the Don again to beg him for permission to hunt down those who'd done this.

He denied me. All because I accidentally killed their made man who was trying to kill us.

Her funeral was the worst thing I'd ever seen. I may not have been the only one there but I felt as though I was. I'd never felt so alone in all my life prior to this. I had nobody left.. mom and dad was one thing but now I'd lost the only woman who'd meant anything to me -- my own little sister. I vowed revenge and fire was my only fuel.

Night after endless night I tried to track down the bastards with no luck. I'd lost the support of the Capriani family. I had nobody left to turn to. Then, one night walking through the streets drunk off whiskey and vodka I happened upon a man dressed in all black as though he'd just came from a funeral as well. I don't know why but after only a brief conversation I was spilling my life's story out to him as though he were the most confident person I could talk to. He told me he could help me. Help me get my revenge. I didn't need any convincing beyond that.

And that was my last moment as a mortal.

I spent only a small time with my sire, learning the ways of a vampire and taking from him what I needed. He introduced me to a lot of other folks that could help me, one of them being what he called a 'necromancer'. Said it was some guy who had the ability to incite and control the dead. He told me that he could help me bring my sister back, he just needed a vessel in which to place her spirit. I could only think of one possible thing. The one thing she liked more than anything.

I held off on my revenge. I knew Leile would feel the need to kill just as badly as I did. I laid low so the bastards would think I ended up face down in a gutter somewhere or simply skipped town to avoid the judgement that was eventually coming to me. I took a short trip to the north to find what was to be my lost sister's new body. In merely a couple weeks I was back in the home of the necromancer and on his table I set the body of a timber wolf. She was decorated in raven black fur from her nose to the end of her tail.. the prettiest creature I could find. I helped him perform a ritual at the site where Leile was buried and felt no fear when the wolf came to life yet again. I could see in her eyes -- there she was. I had my sister back.

The rest.. well. Go to the library and look up archives from the '50s. It'll educate you all about the waste Leile and I laid on this miserable city. From crime family to innocent people alike. We didn't care. We were the only ones who mattered on this planet. Each person we killed, though, only made us hunger for the next. A regular supernatural Bonnie and Clyde, we'd become, and it never stopped.

Now it was only a game to us. Until we can rid this planet of every miserable two legged life form to walk it, our bloodlust will never be sedated.

"So how 'bout it, sis?" I asked down to the wolf staring out at all the people who walked the LA nightlife, taking a drag from my cigarette. "Who's on the torment agenda for tonight? Ooh I know. I heard there's this really old hotel downtown. 's called the Hyperion, I think...."


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