Jack Lynch was not a very pleasant man to be around. For starters, it was a good chance you'd end up dead. He was a rapist and a killer, in his own eyes he was above the law. The strong would rule, and he was the strongest. People called him a psycotic serial killer. The Werwolfs had another term for him: rabbid.<br/>Lynch was clearly insane, taking pleasure in tormenting his victims, playing with them like a cat plays with a mouse, allowing his prey a few moments of hope when they thought they had managed to elude him. Then he would strike, taking pleasure in the looks of dispair in their faces, their dying screams a sweet symphoni in his ears.<br/>He had come to be known as the Scourge of New England, preying on rural villages, the number of dissapearances having skyrocketed the last couple of years. The only thing ever found were gnawed bones, for Lynch had broken the ultimate taboo: he had been feeding on human flesh.<br/>Three werewolfs had tried to stop him so far. Lately Lynch had three oversized wolf jaws hanging from his belt. He had come to accept one ultimate truth: in his werewolf form he is unstoppable, large and strong even for a werewolf. He's been drawing closer to New York for months now, leaving death and despair in his wake. In the cover of the unnatural storm he finally entered the city, salivating at the thought of the millions of potential victims. Like sheep being led to slaughter.<br/><br/>Oh Lynch, if you could see yourself now, slowly turning on a spit over a roaring bonfire, your fur slowly burning away, with a suprised and terrified look on your face, your throat ripped open by strong jaws rivaled by your own. Would you have seen the poetic justice in your death? Probably not, but tonight there was werewolf on the menu. It just went to show the state of the world. There were tough people, there were total badasses. And then there were Skuzz.<br/><br/>The fearless Recap leader was sitting in the snow while his underlings licked their lips in anticipation of the feast before them. They didn't mind their meat raw, but you always cooked werewolf, every Redcap knew that.<br/>Skuzz was mending his leather jacket, Lynch's claws had done a number on it before Skuzz had brought him down. Sewing was generally considered women's work, but the fact that Skuzz used werewolf tendon as thread saved him from any derogatory remarks. Having so recently lost two battles in a row, Skuzz's position had been threatened, he would've had to expect a challenge soon. But not after tonight. The scum had been shown their proper place when he had  brought down the werewolf, who by all accounts had seemed like a bad hombre, by himself. Skuzz's position was safe.<br/><br/>"So, boss...what's the plan? In regards to the flowery tart, I mean."<br/>Skuzz carefully eyed his work before finally putting on his jacket again. The redcap asking the question looked more and more nervous for every second of silence.<br/>Finally Skuzz took pity on the man, pleased with the effect he still had on his crew.<br/>"One week left. Then we nab the cock sucker."<br/>A loud cheer sounded through Central Park as the wicked changelings started digging in on their gruesome meal.