Siggy was always conflicted when he set out to harvest a subject. He felt ashamed at thinking of it as a hunt, yet that was exactly what he thought of it. He even enjoyed it to some degree and that enjoyment embarrassed him. He realized that very few people would understand his motivations and most would likely label him a murderer or worse. It was the price of creation, a delicate balance of light and dark. Discipline was the key, Siggy could never allow himself to put the pleasure of the hunt above the purpose of the hunt. Despite this, he found himself energized as he sat in his car across from the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly grocery store where he had last seen his prey.

This was the second night he had staked out the parking lot. He was forced to observe it from a distance with binoculars. There were security cameras outside the grocery store and he needed to be cautious.

His perseverance paid off. The young man and one of his friends had arrived after dark. He noticed them going from car to car, checking to see if any of the store customers had left their doors unlocked. Siggy shook his head in disappointment.

Common thieves, he thought, hardly worthy of a portrait. Perhaps the boy needs money to feed his family, that would be understandable, possibly noble. I should not prejudge, he admonished himself.

A little over an hour passed. The two boys sat underneath a street lamp, smoking something Siggy assumed to be meth, out of a glass pipe. After a short while the taller boy simply left, leaving the subject seated alone, beneath the lamp in the parking lot.

Siggy sat up. If the subject left now, he could intercept him once he was out of range of the cameras. He picked up his pistol and loaded a dart into the chamber. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the boy.

As Siggy watched, a dark van pulled up next to the boy. The young man approached the driver's side window and appeared to be speaking to someone. Suddenly, a bright blue-white light flashed briefly and the boy collapsed next to the van. The driver exited and dragged the body to the rear of the vehicle. He opened the rear door and deposited the unconscious boy inside. He closed the doors and returned to the driver seat. The van started and began to pull out of the parking lot.

Siggy considered his options. He started his car and began to follow the van at a distance. He assumed that the flash was the discharge of a stun gun and that the young man was still alive. A grim look passed over his face.

No one is stealing my subject, he thought.

The Predator was a cautious beast. He had remained undiscovered for years and intended to stay so. He saw the tail lights of the pickup truck and noticed immediately that it pulled out to follow him when he left the parking lot. It wasn't the police, just one man. The Predator smiled, thinking of the possibilities this might present.

He wove his way along the streets to his lair, keeping an eye on his pursuer. Finally he pulled up a cul-de-sac and onto the driveway of the lone house, an attractive Victorian with gingerbread trim. The Predator parked and carried his victim into the house.

He brought him to the basement and locked him in a dog cage, still unconscious. He hurried back up the stairs and to the front window in time to see the pickup parking a short distance up the street. A man exited the vehicle and began casually strolling in the direction of the house.

The Predator prepared himself. He checked his stun gun. A smile crossed his lips.

Someone else to play with, he thought, a foolish neighborhood watch goody two shoes. I'll invite him in and as soon as he's in range, he's mine.

The Predator stood by the door, watching his new prey approach the front door. He held the stun gun in his right hand by his side, at the ready. There was a knock at the door. He opened the door and prepared to invite the man in.

Siggy approached the front door and knocked. The door opened and a middle-aged man stood inside, his right side still behind the door. The man spoke.
"What can I do for....."

Before he could finish, Siggy raised the dart gun and fired a dart into the man's neck. The Predator's eyes widened in disbelief. He tried to step back from the door, but his limbs wouldn't respond. He fell back onto the floor.

Siggy stepped over the prone body and closed the door. He secured the man's hands and feet with cable ties as an extra precaution and began to search the house for his subject.

He turned on the lights in the house and looked around. He found himself chuckling at the furnishings. The interior of the home looked like it was ripped from some technicolor Vincent Price movie, a sort of a neo- gothic/Victorian vibe permeated from the red velvet wallpaper covered in large black fleurs-de-lis.

He scanned the walls for a door to the basement. That's where freaks like him keep their victims, he thought.

Siggy saw the door, opened it and began to descend the darkened stairs. When he reached the pitch black basement, he felt the wall for the light switch. He turned on the light. His eyes widened in amazement.

It looked like a medieval chamber of horrors, down to the stone walls. There were shackles in the walls, a rack, and various instruments of torture. Three large dog cages lined the far wall. Two of them were empty, but in the third, a figure curled into a ball and whimpered.

Siggy approached.

"Don't hurt me man, I never done nothing to you," the man in a fetal position implored.

"Don't worry," Siggy reassured him, "the man who hurt you is tied up. He won't hurt you anymore."

"Thank fuckin' god! Man, thank you, get me the fuck out of here."

"I will, gather your strength, I just want to take a quick look around." Siggy walked to the wall closest the stairs. There was a row of fifteen photographs of young men and women. Beneath each image a piece of jewelry hung on a hook. He knew what this meant and it disgusted him.

He turned his attention back to the prisoner. After opening the cage, he helped the young man to his feet. The boy was still shaky.

"Do you think you can make it up the stairs? They're pretty steep."

The boy laughed, "I'll crawl up the fuckin' stairs if it gets me out of here!"

Siggy smiled, "Good, go on then."

The young man climbed the stairs slowly with Siggy close behind. When he reached the main floor he paused, staring at the Predator, trussed up and paralyzed on the floor. He ran over to the prone form and started kicking it viscously. Siggy did not stop him immediately, feeling the punishment was justified. After a short while he put his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"That's enough, help me carry him to my car."

"We should kill this bastard!"

"Violence isn't the answer. Don't worry, he'll be punished. My name is Siggy."

The boy calmed down, "I'm Jack."

"We'll, Jack, you get his feet and I'll get his shoulders."

They carried him to the pickup truck and deposited him in the back. Jack climbed into the passenger seat and Siggy started the car.

"What now?" Jack asked.

Siggy turned to his passenger and fired a dart into his chest. "Now we go home."