He was invisible, which was understandably not uncommon.

He scuttled, unseen and unheard with his Beast carefully leashed, in a park. Even though he had not been acknowledged yet, a great deal of time was passing and he was beginning to think that he should not have left that duty to Paladin Wells to manage for him, appearance be dammed.

He was not Hunting, he had anticipated some difficulty in receiving acknowledgement. He could not enter the Rack to find others, because interaction was impossible when invisible. That was the reason he had brought a number of small reliquaries with him from San Francisco, to tide over the hunger until he could hunt properly.

However, just because he was not poaching for food, it did not mean he was not Hunting.

The park was seemingly empty but for a young woman jogging and the monster following her. Father Cordwood had to activate his gift of Vigor to keep up with her. She had jogged here every night since the night Cordwood first found her here jogging alone. Could she not sleep? What did she do? Why did she do this alone? There were monsters around, some worse than him and others not. Did she ignore the threat? Or could she simply be unaware of them, like so many of the Kine were?

When he watched her, he appreciated her appearance, but only in an abstract way. Even in life, he has not been interested in sex, it not only seemed messy but unnecessarily complicated to him. Perhaps this was why he saw his appearance as not such a great loss. He didn't feel like he had lost much. He was aware of a number of Nosferatu that bemoaned their loss of beauty and their enforced unnaturalness, but his opinions of them were less than flattering.

The man was dressed in black. He came at her in a run, and tackled her into the bushes on the side of the path. Cordwood walked up to the scene to see what was going on. He did not have senses sharp enough to hear what he said to the girl, but the knife he held to her throat spoke plainly enough.

When he slipped his hands to his pants to un-snap them, she kicked him then tried to crawl away. He recovered, caught her and then raised his knife overhead to stab.

The sound was terrible when Cordwood crushed the knife into a ball. It drowned out the sound of the man's hand breaking in that same grip. The woman looked up at his face in terror. The man whimpered and clutched his ruined hand to his chest as he rolled off her.

Looking down on him, he spoke to the woman. "I would leave now young lady, if I were you. I will deal with this one. He will be here for some time, if you wish inform the police about the incident. Regardless, you should speak to a Priest about this incident." Not looking to see if she complied, he reached down and grabbed the man's collar and dragged him further into the foliage, away from the light.

Once alone, he stood the man up and interlaced the man's remaining good hand with one of his. "Stand up man and show some dignity. I've brought you here tonight to speak with you about your faith, not torture you."

"Jesus Christ what are you?" The man sobbed.

Bones cracked when he squeezed.

"No Blasphemy, it's offensive."