Wolf

The wolf holds portraits in it's hands. It checks the portraits against the bodies in front of it and smiles. They haven't missed anyone.

Once again, it examines the photos it holds. This time though, it holds a more ominous meaning. The wolf is deciding its kill.

Despicable. That's what these humans were. Despicable, every single one of them. They were crazy, stupid, obsessive, aweful human beings. Nobody would miss them when they died. The only question is, who should be the first to die.
The wolf considers each photograph carefully, judging them. Everyonce in a while, it threw one to the ground. Those ones would wait till later. At one of them, it stops longer than the other. Christopher Robin, what a silly name that was. THen again, it was a fitting name for a silly person. HE really thought he could play detective? That he was the smartest ever? The wolf would show him. SHow him how aweful he really was. It smiled as it flings his portrait to the ground. THis was going to fun. This was going to be a pleasure. It stopped again at the next portait. Alice Bernard. This one didn't seem as bad as all the rest. Perhaps she'd been selected as an accident. The wolf shakes its head as it throws her portrait. Her secrets would reveal themselves in time. Everybody's would, eventually.

And so the wolf continues its work until there were only four photos left in its hand. Fynn Bastion Hikari Dinah. These four are the worst, it thinks. Fynn... he thought he was all mightly and high. He was the living proof of the way power and money corrupted. The wolf hated his kind. The other three, they might have been even worse. Scared of the world around them. Scared of other people. Scared what might happen if they didn't follow they're impulses. Talking to cats... IT was pathetic, really. The wolf discards Fynn's portait. It could deal with him later. Dinah and Bastian's portraits follow suit. Hikari was clearly teh lowest of them all. The others at least made an effort to apear in public.

The wolf smiles as it takes out a knife. This is what it's been waiting for. The thrill of the kill. It pauses as it approaches Hikari. Should it sing a song? That was the way it seemed to go in the mysteries it had seen. The killer always had a iconic nursery rhyme or the like. Something to set it appart.
The wolf shrugs and continues it works. Softly it begins to sing the first thing that come to mind.

I've got your number now...
I know just what've you done...
You got no place to hide....
You got no where to run...
I know your life of crime....
I think it's suppertime

With the last word, the wolf raises the knife and brings it down on Hikari's chest. Red blossoms over her dress. For a moment, the wolf is stunned. IT's done it, It's actually done it! For a moment, it wonders if it should tell someone, but then it realizes something. The world won't be bothered with her death. And if it could kill that useless lowlife, it could kill anyone. The world was its battlefield. IT could "clean" the world.

Quickly the wolf dips its finger into Hikari's blood and writes something on the wall. A warning to the others. And then, The wolf looks up to the sky and laughes. A high out of control of laugh. The laugh of a mad man.