The Outer Reaches of Sacramento.

Praetorious sped down the streets of outer Sacramento, feeding off of the aftershocks of his catharsis. He hadn't bothered to put on a helmet or jacket when he'd left, and now the wind whipped by his blood-flecked face, rustling his collar and sleeves, both almost completely soaked with the altar boy's blood. His hair flew back behind him, and he could imagine the cold air, although Praetorious couldn't really feel the cold very much. Oh well.

He had the engine almost at the limits of its capacity, speeding as much as he could down the nearly abandoned street. Nearly fifteen minutes away, Praetorious had no doubt that the altar boy's body had been found by this point. The priests were trying to describe him to the police, but were probably failing- save for the way he seemed to make people around him somewhat uncomfortable, Praetorious himself was not particularly memorable. However, they could describe his direction, which Praetorious had not changed in the interest of speed. He hoped that he could get to the mill and hide his motorcycle before police passed it, thereby throwing them off his trail. Unless they had a significant head start he didn't know about, this course of action was quite likely to succeed.

Of course, it was just his luck that they did have such a head start.

A siren behind him began to wail, and high beams flashed, illuminating the road ahead of him. Praetorious looked back. There was just one car, but there was no way he was escaping. Even so, he tried to speed up, but found that the motor was running as fast as it could.

Damn it.

Realizing there was nothing he could do, he slowed down, pulling over to the side of the road. As the police car came to a stop next to him, Praetorious got off of the motorcycle. A policeman emerged from the driver's side of the car, drawing his gun and pointing it at Praetorious.

Damn it!

There was nothing he could do. The policeman began giving him the Miranda bill of rights as he got closer, gun trained steadily on Praetorious' head. He, for his part, made no sudden moves- he'd already been shot in the head once recently; he didn't want to push his luck. He didn't pay attention to what the policeman said. He simply obeyed when the officer told him to put his hands behind his back. He felt the metal of the handcuffs fasten over his wrist. It took Praetorious until the man grabbed his other wrist for a bolt of realization to hit him.

The officer had gotten out of the driver's seat.

If he'd gotten out of the driver's seat he was alone.

Praetorious' eyes widened slightly. How could he have missed that? He must have still been high off of the murder of the altar boy.

He looked behind him briefly. Then, without warning, Praetorious rammed the back of his head into the policeman's face. The officer shouted some obscenity as he stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose. With speed and dexterity Praetorious hadn't had a scant half an hour ago, he kneed the man in the stomach, tackling him to the ground.

Getting the policeman on his back, Praetorious pinned his arms, holding him fast. The man kicked and struggled, but to no avail- having sated the monster in him, Praetorious' renewed strength outmatched that of the police officer. Positioning himself so that the man's chest was open, Praetorious drew his right arm back, curling his fingers but not making a fist.

He pistoned his palm into the man's solar plexus, just below his sternum. A small click-snap could be heard as the man's xiphoid process broke off, the force of Praetorious' blow jamming it into the police officer's right ventricle. The man gasped in pain, and Praetorious got up, knowing that the policeman would be dead in moments.

Walking to the officer's car, Praetorious found the keys still in the ignition. Not bothering to unlock the handcuffs on his right wrist, he popped the trunk, circling around to it and rummaging inside. He took inventory of the items: a bulletproof vest, a rifle, and a handgun, among other things. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a body bag. Grabbing it, he walked back to the policeman, who was already dead by this point. He stripped the officer of his uniform, tossing it in the trunk of the police car. It could prove useful to him later. Then, he fed the police officer into the body bag as if feeding a rat to a giant snake.

After zipping it up, he picked up the bag, hauling it to the car and tossing it in the trunk. He walked back to his motorcycle, wheeling it up to the car and, with a little work, wedging it into the back seat.

Sitting down in the front seat of the police cruiser, Praetorious let out a long breath. Two kills in one night. Although the policeman didn't conform to the Ritual, it was still pleasing to Praetorious. There was the issue of disposing of the body, as well as silencing the monks (a thought Praetorious was rather averse to- after all, they weren't Seekers), and, most importantly, hunting down "A", but all of those could wait. He was satisfied for now. Those problems could be dealt with tomorrow.

Praetorious turned the key, starting the engine and speeding off down the darkness-shrouded road as if nothing had happened.