The next morning, the two victims were still in critical condition, but there was no sign of bleeding, and the doctor said they'd make it. Oscar and Lucas entered the hospital to speak to the doctors on how the victims were, but they were shocked to find Shelley Hauswirth there with her cameraman Kenny.
"Are they going to be okay?" Shelley asked.
"We don't know yet," Oscar said, "But, if they survive, they'll be in stable condition."
"Oh, that's good," Shelley said, "So, can you tell us a bit more about what happened?"
"Yes," Oscar said, "There were two men stabbed to death. We think the killer... may have been the same serial killer we've been hunting."
"Oh?" Kenny asked.
"Yeah, he's... had a change of pace. We think he's going to start killing men, instead of... well, you know."
"That's horrible," Shelley said, "How can someone do something like that?"
"We're dealing with a monster," Oscar said, "What makes it more difficult is that he appears out of nowhere, we can't track him, he just... shows up. It's like he's a ghost or something."
"Do we know what he looks like?" Kenny asked.
"We don't actually, no," Oscar said, "But, we're working on it."
"All we have is the description of the mask he always has on," said Lucas.
"It's not much to go on," said Kenny, "but if you find this guy, I want to be there."
"We will," said Oscar, "We're putting a team together now, to get the interviews in the media as soon as possible. Make sure you give us enough time to do our job, okay?"
"Yeah," said Kenny, "No problem."
"We'll keep in touch," said Shelley, "By the way, the press are all outside, waiting for your statement."
"Okay," said Oscar, "I'll go speak to them."
Oscar walked out onto the front steps of the hospital, and the reporters waiting there jumped to their feet.
"Is there any new information on the case?" one asked.
"No," said Oscar, "But there may be soon. We're waiting for someone to identify themselves."
"Isn't that the guy who was wearing the mask?"
"Yes," Oscar said, "But he's dead."
"So?" Lucas questioned.
"So, it's likely not going to be the same guy."
"Is there any chance it could be the same killer?"
"It's possible," Oscar said, "But we're not going to find out by standing around here."
The reporters all began filing back into the hospital, and Lucas went on to speak with them. Oscar went to his car. He had a call to make, and he wanted to ensure it was kept a secret, so he went to Detective Mark Lane.
"Yes, Sir?"
"I want you to find out whatever you can on this 'Ghost Face Killer," Oscar said, "and get it up here to us as soon as possible."
"Sure thing," said Detective Mark Lane, "What's this about?"
"I can't tell you that," said Oscar, "It's confidential."
"Sure thing," said Mark Lane, "I understand. "
Oscar's call was put on speakerphone, and Mark Lane took the call.
"Hello," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice, "What's this regarding?"
"Beware of the Wolfman," said Oscar, "he may be in the area."
"Are you serious?" said Mark Lane, "What makes you think that?" "Because this isn't Oscar." "Excuse me?" Said Mark Lane with a hint of confusion in his voice.
"It's not him," said Oscar, "It's me. Hello, Mr. Detective."
"What's going on? Who's this?"
"The Wolfman."
"The Wolfman?" said Mark Lane, "Why would you accuse someone of something like that?"
"Because I'm the one who did it."
"Excuse me?" said Mark Lane. "I'm the killer you're buddy, Polifka, is searching for."
"What? You're not!"
"I am," said the masked man, "Give me a few minutes to confirm it, okay?... Mark, you've got to be kidding me." "What do you mean by proof? -" The phone hung up, "Hey!" Shouted Mark Lane.
"He hung up," said Mark Lane.
"Did you talk to him?" Asked someone.
"No." Answered Detective Mark Lane.
"What happened?" Questioned someone.
"He hung up."
"Shit!" said Mark Lane, "Let me talk to him again."
"You just did." The masked man appeared from behind Detective Mark Lane. The masked man was shorter than before, and the masked man's mask was different; it wasn't in the style of a wendigo like it was before, but this time in the style of a wolf with parts of the wendigo mask. It still looked scary and terrifying, but now there were more white eyes and fangs in the mask. It was a strange combination of the worst of the wendigo and the best of the wolf, making it even more terrifying. He wore a bright yellow coat with blue stripes on the sides instead of his usual black one. Instead of brown pants like before, he wore black pants instead. He had no scarf, instead he had on two silver necklaces.
"Listen," he said, "I'm not trying to hide this, okay? …I mean, I am the wolfman, I am the boogieman, I am what you make me. I'm not trying to hide this." Mark Lane stared at the man, trying to get a look at his face.
"Oh, oh," said the Wolfman, "looks like I got your attention, don't I?"
"Yes," said Mark Lane, "You did."
"Well, then, let's get down to it, shall we?"
The masked man then picked up Mark Lane by the neck and choked and slammed him into his desk.
"Dead," he said, "You're all dead!" He picked up the phone and slammed it down onto Mark Lane's face repeatedly, until his face resembled strawberry jam, before grabbing him by the throat and crushing his skull against the desk. "Fucking pig," he said. Mark struggled for a few seconds, eyes bulging and spittle spraying from his mouth. He tried to reach out for his gun, but the man's iron grip prevented him from moving. The man's anger had now taken over and he had become aggressive. It was only the restraint of fear that had kept him from ripping the man apart. Now that fear was gone and he relished the thought of using the man's body as a tenderizer he could use to grind his head into hamburger meat.
Mark tried to scream for help, but he could no longer muster the strength to do it. He felt the last of his fight leave him.
"No no no no no no. NO!! Don't fuck me with that!! Fucking pigs, just you wait... You've fucking fucked me enough…! You'd think you'd learn to keep your fucking paws off me..." Screamed the masked man in a frantic tone, as if he wasn't thinking as to what he was saying.
Mark could feel the man's grip tightening and he struggled to breathe. It was just a matter of time before the man would drop him to the floor.
"Dead," he said again, before taking a deep breath, "Hello, Mr. Wolfman," he said, "How's the hunting going?"
"Oh I'm doing pretty good, how about you?" He said to himself.
"Very well indeed," said the Wolfman, "I just killed three of my colleagues for not being honest with me. Oh, and I also killed a fourth, to make sure you were telling the truth."
"That's good, that's good," he said once again to himself.
"I'm having a little trouble with one of my targets," said the Wolfman, "he's not exactly... cooperative."
"That's pretty par for the course," said the Wolfman, "but the rule still applies. I can't afford to make any more enemies. Are you still interested in making an ally?"
"What, are you offering to hire me?" asked the Wolfman.
"Of course not," said the Wolfman, "But I am offering you a favor, if you'll only do me the favor of taking the target out." There was a short pause.
"Well, what do you say?" said the Wolfman, "Are you interested?" The Wolfman gave a short, humorless cackle.
"I'll pass," he said, "Go on your way."
The Wolfman released Mark Lane, and the detective fell to the floor dead. "I'll have to take care of him." he said to himself, "Oh, well, that's not a problem, is it?"
"No," said the Wolfman, "It's not." The Wolfman then picked up a metal file cabinet, and using it like a battering ram, smashed open the door to Mark Lane's office. He looked through the files within to see what might be of use, and found a paper with a name and address on it. He snatched it up, and looked at the name. It was a name he recognized.
"POLIFKA," he said, "Let's see what he's got on you."
"Shh!" said the Wolfman, "Don't disturb the killer, or he'll kill us all. He's in the filing room." The wolfman cackled to himself.
"I've got a lot of employees here, he doesn't need to kill us all. That'd be inefficient."
The Wolfman then took down the filing cabinet and placed it in the middle of the room. He placed a chair in front of it, and sat down.
"I really do prefer to work alone." he said to himself, "but there's no honor among cheaters, is there?"
"Anyway," he said, "let's get down to business. What do you want? I can provide you with information, or I can get information, or I can go out and try to find the target myself." Asked the Wolfman.
"I already have a pretty good idea who it is, and I can't have some idiot stumbling in and getting in the way. Go on about your business, and leave me alone. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." snipped the Wolfman.
"What a stubborn devil you are, aren't you?" said the Wolfman, "Okay, I'll do it. I'll leave you alone if you leave me alone. Do we have an agreement?"
"We do," said the Wolfman, "Now, go try to find this guy. I'm sure you're more capable than you give yourself credit for."
The Wolfman then vanished. He left the office, and the dead body of Mark Lane behind him.
"Let's go, come on, let's get going," said the Wolfman, "I'm hungry, and that's what we're here for, isn't it?"
A short time later, the Wolfman had a new ally. He learned to love himself. The Wolfman had a new obsession. Hunting. Before, when he we called himself the boogieman he was calm and collected, but he grew bored, and through that boredom something more demented grew inside him - Something that craved the thrill of the hunt, something akin to a wolf stalking its prey: he was now the Wolfman.
The hunt was the Wolfman's obsession. Every fiber of his being was designed for one purpose only: kill, kill, kill. His was a perfect existence, his was a life without flaws.
Back at the hotel, Shelley Hauswirth was in her bathroom brushing her teeth. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and Shelley Hauswirth was tempted to ignore it, but she was a curious woman, and she answered the phone.
"Hello?" she said, "Who is it?"
"Hush," said a deep voice, "You don't want to answer that. Don't hang up," said the Wolfman, his voice calm, but filled with an unknown intent.
Shelley Hauswirth was frightened, but she was also curious, and she did as the voice instructed.
"Hello," she said, "Who is this?"
"Do you remember our first meeting? I do, I think about it every night." Said the Wolfman.
"Yes, I do."
"Do you remember what it was like, being afraid then?" asked the Wolfman.
"Yes, I do. Well, no. Maybe. I don't know."
"Being afraid is part of life," said the Wolfman, "But you don't have to live your life in fear. I will help you, if you let me."
"I can't. I...."
The Wolfman interrupted her. "Yes, you can. If you let me in."
The Wolfman then said something odd. "If I let you in, then you'll let me in."
"I don't know. How can I be sure that you're not going to hurt me?" asked Shelley Hauswirth.
"You can't," said the Wolfman, "But that doesn't mean you have to be afraid. Let me come into your heart. I'll keep you safe."
Shelley Hauswirth thought this over. "Fuck no!" She yelled.
"Don't hang up," said the Wolfman, "I'll keep you safe."
Shelley Hauswirth was terrified. "What do you want? Why are you calling me?!" She yelled. "What do you want?!"
"I was just calling to tell you I've been busy; however, I'm starting to get irritated. You haven't been covering me, I thought we had something." The Wolfman admitted.
"What do you mean? I've been covering you! You're the same as you were before! You're as... as..."
"As corrupt? As worthless?" The Wolfman finished.
"Yes."
"I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you're getting at." The Wolfman said, but he was getting agitated, and his voice grew louder.
"Then what the hell are you calling about? Don't you think I can hear you? It's not like I have anything better to do!"
The Wolfman then yelled, and slammed down the phone. "What a difficult woman," he said, "I'm getting a little fed up with her lack of trust. She'll come around, though." The Wolfman smiled.
Shelley looked at the hotel mirror. The Wolfman was right; she wasn't any different than before. It was just her luck that she was about to meet the Wolfman, and he turned out to be just as psychotic as she thought he was.