Predator Killer Of Killers Quotes

He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survive.

Dominator culture teaches all of us that the core of our identity is defined by the will to dominate and control others. We are taught that this will to dominate is more biologically hardwired in males than in females. In actuality, dominator culture teaches us that we are all natural-born killers but that males are more able to realize the predator role. In the dominator model the pursuit of external power, the ability to manipulate and control others, is what matters most. When culture is based on a dominator model, not only will it be violent but it will frame all relationships as power struggles.

Such a pity, really; the prey falling for the predator. The victim in love with the killer... A mere mortal girl thinking a demon was capable of love.

Don’t smile. It’s scary as fuck. The look doesn’t suit you, and it makes you look like a serial killer.

You are the killer. You are the predator. You know nothing of loyalty or love.” She held her hand out to Ryu, who sniffed it, before settling his warm head down on her knee. “We may be animals, but we will never again live in your cage.

It was great to see the owls," I said. She smiled. "Yes. They're wild things, of course. Killers, savages. They're wonderful.

If you seek for supreme predator, go find God. He hunts the prime killer of mankind, the Satan.

The reason I ask,” Malcolm said, “is that I’m told large predators such as lions and tigers are not born man-eaters. Isn’t that true? These animals must learn somewhere along the way that human beings are easy to kill. Only afterward do they become man-killers.” “Yes, I believe that’s true,” Grant said. “Well, these dinosaurs must be even more reluctant than lions and tigers. After all, they come from a time before human beings—or even large mammals—existed at all. God knows what they think when they see us. So I wonder: have they learned, somewhere along the line, that humans are easy to kill?

Now she was a killer, a mercenary. And that was all.

I familiarize myself with every detail of their crimes and loathe what they did. At the same time, I may feel tremendous empathy and sorrow for what they went through in their young lives that contributed to their adult behavior

Adventurers and loners, romantics and desperadoes, eccentrics and slow suicides—the luxuriousness of the place, its seduction and savagery, calls to the wildest among us. Alaska, the land of black moons and midnight suns.

You are a killer. You are a predator. You know nothing aboyt loyality or love. We may be animals, but we will never again live in your cave.

Lions are neither predators nor killers. They just go for hunting like kings; because they are the kings!

To restate an old law - when a man bites a fish, that's good, but when a fish bites a man, that's bad. This is one way of saying it's all right if man kills an animal, but if an animal attacks man, the act is reprehensible. The animal is labelled "killer," something to be feared, hated, shunned, punished, even killed by man. How dangerous are those sea animals with bad reputations? A few actually kill. A few maim. Some are poisonous when eaten by man. Most sting, stab,or poison and cause mild to severe discomfort to man. Yet man is one of the larger beings that sea creatures encounter, and these poisons usually can't kill him. Very often these poisons are used defensively against predators and offensively in food gathering. There are a few animals that have won themselves a bad reputation even though they have little or no effect on man. They have won their rating through man's interpretation of their attitude towards lower animals. These animals have been seen feeding in what appears to be a savage manner. But this behavior may perhaps be comparable to a man tearing the flesh off a chicken leg with his teeth.

When rehabilitation works, there is no question that it is the best and most productive use of the correctional system. It stands to reason: if we can take a bad guy and turn him into a good guy and then let him out, then that’s one fewer bad guy to harm us. . . . Where I do not think there is much hope. . .is when we deal with serial killers and sexual predators, the people I have spent most of my career hunting and studying. These people do what they do. . .because it feels good, because they want to, because it gives them satisfaction. You can certainly make the argument, and I will agree with you, that many of them are compensating for bad jobs, poor self-image, mistreatment by parents, any number of things. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to be able to rehabilitate them.

Within just about every serial predator, there are two warring elements: A feeling of grandiosity, specialness, and entitlement, together with deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness and a sense that they have not gotten the breaks in life that they should

There’s also the truth that 70 percent of serial killer victims are female. You better believe that knowing you’re prey heightens your interest in the predator. You find yourself desperate to make sense of largely random acts of serial murder, believing that if you can understand motivation and hunting patterns, you can protect yourself.

Her heart split in two. She was an animal. A killer and a predator. The screams turned to howls. Sad and broken howls. Haunting and furious howls.

With serial killers, for example, about the only safe generalization is that an inexplicably large percentage of them are named Wayne or Ricky Lee.

Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn’t we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don’t believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby seal and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?” Edward Cullen, Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight

My focus is on understanding why people commit violent and predatory acts, not to help them become better, more law-abiding citizens, but to aid in catching them, prosecuting them, and putting them away

A predator is what you are, and nothing you can do will change that. But being a killer is a choice you make. That’s the dilemma of free will. You can’t change your nature, but you can decide how to act on it.

This is often the way crimes get solved- through a side door. The clue that led to New York’s “son of Sam” killings was a parking ticket David Berkowitz was issued for parking his Ford Galaxie too close to a fire hydrant near the site of his final murder

One of the things that is interesting and pretty consistent among serial predators is that two emotional concepts are constantly warring within them. One is a feeling of grandiosity and entitlement. The other is a deep-seated and pervasive sense of inferiority and inadequacy.

As it moves closer, Galen can make out smaller bodies within the mass. Whales. Sharks. Sea turtles. Stingrays. And he knows exactly what’s happening. The darkening horizon engages the full attention of the Aerna; the murmurs grow louder the closer it gets. The darkness approaches like a mist, eclipsing the natural snlight from the surface. An eclipse of fish. With each of his rapid heartbeats, Galen thinks he can feel the actual years disappear from his life span. A wall of every predator imaginable, and every kind of prey swimming in between, fold themselves around the edges of the hot ridges. The food chain hovers toward, over them, around them as a unified force. And Emma is leading it. Nalia gasps, and Galen guesses she recognizes the white dot in the middle of the wall. Syrena on the outskirts of the Arena frantically rush to the center, the tribunal all but forgotten in favor of self-preservation. The legion of sea life circles the stadium, effectively barricading the exits and any chance of escaping. Galen can’t decide if he’s proud or angry when Emma leaves the safety of her troops to enter the Arena, hitching a ride on the fin of a killer whale. When she’s but three fin-lengths away from Galen, she dismisses her escort. “Go back with the others,” she tells it. “I’ll be fine.” Galen decides on proud. Oh, and completely besotted. She gives him a curt nod to which he grins. Turning to the crowd of ogling Syrena, she says, “I am Emma, daughter of Nalia, true princess of Poseidon.” He hears murmurs of “Half-Breed” but it sounds more like awe than hatred or disgust. And why shouldn’t it? They’ve seen Paca’s display of the Gift. Emma’s has just put it to shame.

What Keyes was describing was the textbook progression, from childhood, of a sadist and a psychopath. Torturing and killing small animals, pets especially, is experimentation in controlling and killing another living thing for pure pleasure. It is practice, the last step before graduating to humans. Even as an adult,

Vanessa Michael Munroe was a killer with a predator’s natural instincts; she could take care of herself. What scared him—terrified him—was what would happen if she was pushed too far. He’d seen that place of destruction, had witnessed firsthand what the darkness could do to her mind, and if whoever had taken her had also taken Logan …

′You're a very unusual man, Mark,′ she'd said. ′That's nice of you to say so,′ he said. You have no idea.

To understand the artist, you must look at the artwork…to understand the criminal, you must look at and study the crime itself.

A predator after her own heart.

Normal people find it difficult to grasp the reality that predators really do think differently

I miss my dog,” he wrote to Maria. “I don’t really miss my mother.” Dogs offer unconditional and nonjudgmental love. Mothers don’t always.

Predators may look and sound and often act like we do, but they don’t think like we do.

Predators may look and sound and often act like we do, but they don’t think like we do. Their logical process is completely different.

Of all the sexual predators I have interviewed over the years, a full 50 percent of them had their first rape fantasy between the ages of twelve and fourteen.

As is true with ordinary people, serial predators can mistake luck for personal ability.

I've got lots more stories to tell.

Suddenly all those careful preparations disintegrated as predators far more dangerous than the walking dead proved what all wise killers already knew: that nothing was more dangerous than living men.

We do not own the land we abuse, or the lakes and streams we pollute or the raccoons and the otters we persecute. Those who play God in destroying any form of life are tampering with a master plan too intricate for any of us to understand. All that we can do is to aid that great plan and to keep part of our planet habitable. The greatest predator on earth is man himself, and we must look inward to destroy the killer instinct which may yet atomize the human race. Our morality must be extended to every living thing upon our globe, and we must amend the Gold Rule to read: ’ Do unto other creatures as you would have them do unto you!

Naysayers at their polite best chided the rewilders for romanticizing the past; at their sniping worst, for tempting a 'Jurassic Park' disaster. To these the rewilders quietly voiced a sad and stinging reply. The most dangerous experiment is already underway. The future most to be feared is the one now dictated by the status quo. In vanquishing our most fearsome beasts from the modern world, we have released worse monsters from the compound. They come in disarmingly meek and insidious forms, in chewing plagues of hoofed beasts and sweeping hordes of rats and cats and second-order predators. They come in the form of denuded seascapes and barren forests, ruled by jellyfish and urchins, killer deer and sociopathic monkeys. They come as haunting demons of the human mind. In conquering the fearsome beasts, the conquerors had unwittingly orphaned themselves.

As I told the New Jersey Parole Board in the McGowan case, my cardinal rule is that to understand an artist, you have to view his art. Likewise, with a predator, to understand him, you have to understand his “art,” because that’s what it is to him.

Within just about every serial predator, there are two warring elements: a feeling of grandiosity, specialness, and entitlement, together with deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness and a sense that they have not gotten the breaks in life that they should.

Human beings divide the world into mine and yours. We create borders. Include what we like and exclude what we do not like. Thus a rift occurs in relationships. Gandhari is jealous of Kunti, Kunti of Madri, Arjuna of Karna, Duryodhana of Bhima. That is why Yayati favors Puru over Yadu. That is why Satyabhama quarrels with Rukmini. But for Shyam, there are no boundaries. No mine and yours. This no hero or villain. No predator or prey. No them or us. He sides with both killer and killed. For him, in wisdom, everyone is family. Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam.

In our research, there is a strong correlation between domineering mothers and men who grow up to be predators. Though the vast majority of those with such mothers do not grow up to be offenders, of those who do, the domineering mother constitutes a significant influencing factor.

For a long time, humans have wondered about the possibility of intelligent life on other planets while ignoring the intelligent life on this one. Orcas have a language and a culture that predates ours, so how do we justify imprisoning them or, more importantly, destroying their habitat?

We do not own the land we abuse, or the lakes and streams we pollute or the raccoons and the otters we persecute. Those who play God in destroying any form of life are tampering with a master plan too intricate for any of us to understand. All that we can do is to aid that great plan and to keep part of our planet habitable. The greatest predator on earth is man himself, and we must look inward to destroy the killer instinct which may yet atomize the human race. Our morality must be extended to every living thing upon our globe, and we must amend the Golden Rule to read: ’ Do unto other creatures as you would have them do unto you!

When microbiologists first started cataloguing the human microbiome in its entirety they hoped to discover a "core" microbiome: a group of species that everyone shares. It's now debatable if that core exists. Some species are common, but none is everywhere. If there is a core, it exists at the level of functions, not organisms. There are certain jobs, like digesting a certain nutrient or carrying out a specific metabolic trick, that are always filled by some microbe-just not always the same one. You see the same trend on a bigger scale. In New Zealand, kiwis root through leaf litter in search of worms, doing what a badger might do in England. Tigers and clouded leopards stalk the forests of Sumatra but in cat-free Madagascar that same niche is filled by a giant killer mongoose called the fossa; meanwhile, in Komodo, a huge lizard claims the top predator role. Different islands, different species, same jobs. The islands in question could be huge land masses, or individual people.

Money’ll always end up bad. Man’s greed and man’s killer instinct go hand-in-hand. Watch a barracuda attack something shiny and you’ll see what our fascination with gold is. Think about it. We give actually valuable things like food and shelter for stones. We kill for it. Make no mistake, behind every man who seeks his fortune is a predator.

He said that a killer comes to hunting humans gradually. The appetite builds from a young boy’s undifferentiated anger and morbidity of mind to a search for ever more violent pornography, the visual and written material that Ted believed had shaped and focused his fantasy world. Then comes the window peeping, followed eventually by crudely conceived and unsuccessful assaults. In Ted’s case, these gave way, over time, to a sophisticated taste for the chase and its aftermath: the selection of what he called “worthy” victims, pretty and intelligent young daughters and sisters of the middle class, nice girls whom Ted desired to possess, he said, “as one would possess a potted plant, or a Porsche.

Examples like this are one of the reasons I’ve never set much store in polygraph exams. It is largely ineffective on suspects who already have a criminal history and who may currently be involved in other crimes. They believe in their own warped minds that their crime was justified, or they were entitled to do it. Or, as several serial predators have told me over the years, if you can lie well to the police, how hard is it to lie to a box?

The term serial killer designates a predator who murders repeatedly and with a certain general periodicity. And after each crime, there is a “cooling-off” period. If the killer stops without being caught, it is almost always for one of three reasons: He has died; he has been arrested for an unrelated crime and is in prison; or he hasn’t actually stopped, but has merely moved to another area and law enforcement has not connected his new crimes with the older ones.

Our research suggests that the combination of hardwired neurological factors and a bad childhood and adolescence contributes most often to an antisocial personality. It is possible that without one or the other influence, the violence-prone predator never emerges, as suggested by our informal control group of law-abiding siblings like David and Mikal. But this is not a laboratory experiment where we can play it out two ways. At this point in the development of both neuropsychology and criminology, the best we can offer is theories.

Sometimes the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are presented as a hunting expeditions (“As British close in on Basra, Iraqis scurry away”; “Terror hunt snares twenty-five”; and “Net closes around Bin Laden”) with enemy bases as animal nests (“Pakistanis give up on lair of Osama”; “Terror nest in Fallujah is attacked”) from which the prey must be driven out (“Why Bin Laden is so difficult to smoke out”; “America’s new dilemma: how to smoke Bin Laden out from caves”). We need to trap the animal (“Trap may net Taliban chief”; “FBI terror sting nets mosque leaders”) and lock it in a cage (“Even locked in a cage, Saddam poses serious danger”). Sometimes the enemy is a ravening predator (“Chained beast—shackled Saddam dragged to court”), or a monster (“The terrorism monster”; “Of monsters and Muslims”), while at other times he is a pesky rodent (“Americans cleared out rat’s nest in Afghanistan”; “Hussein’s rat hole”), a venomous snake (“The viper awaits”; “Former Arab power is ‘poisonous snake’”), an insect (“Iraqi forces find ‘hornet’s nest’ in Fallujah”; “Operation desert pest”; “Terrorists, like rats and cockroaches, skulk in the dark”), or even a disease organism (“Al Qaeda mutating like a virus”; “Only Muslim leaders can remove spreading cancer of Islamic terrorism”). In any case, they reproduce at an alarming rate (“Iraq breeding suicide killers”; “Continent a breeding ground for radical Islam”).

We all feel the urge to exact revenge at one time or another, but most of us are able to suppress and control those impulses. Actual revenge murders tend to be one-offs rather than serial crimes. These types of murders have specific indicators and fall into one of two categories: retribution against individuals the killer feels have hurt or offended him, or retaliation against entire communities, such as school shooters who feel they have been bullied or disrespected. As a rule, though, while sexual predators tend to be acutely sensitive to any perceived slight or insult—while giving no mind to the feelings of others—they don’t generally have revenge as a motive; they don’t need it. They are already bound up with their own deadly obsessions, as we clearly see in Kondro’s case.

Normal people find it difficult to grasp the reality that predators really do think differently. We tend to want to evaluate them from the point of view of our own experience and life values, and then try to figure out what it is that “went wrong.” In other words, what is the aberrant piece that once identified and “fixed” will make them think “normally” again? Well, in many cases there is an aberrant piece that either determines or influences behavior. But by the time some individual acts on his predatory urges, it is usually so completely assimilated into his entire personality that you can’t simply take it out and replace it as you can a defective mechanical part. That is why the concept of rehabilitation is so problematic for violent offenders. Once the damage is done, it is often all but impossible to repair it.

The date rape drug he’d intended to give me has knocked him out so hard he’s barely even flinched, despite being dragged to the top of a twelve-storey building, stripped naked and bound to a post. His head lolls towards his chest. I stand back to admire him, taking in his slumped frame as he wilts against the pressure of his rope bindings. He looks Christ-like, vulnerable. His skin is grey in the murky moonlight. His body is incredible. Hardly surprising, since he seems to spend half his life at the gym. His stomach is taut, rippled with abs. His pecs are straight from a swimwear ad, his broad shoulders and ripped arms are built like a boxer’s. His biceps are strong, lined with veins that will soon cease to pump blood. He has the kind of arms that could pin you down so tightly you wouldn’t be able to move a muscle. His hands are large – the least attractive part of him: dry, thick, stubby. They’re the type of hands that could grip your wrists and stifle screams. Hands that could have killed me tonight. Hands that would have hurt me. Hands that would have held me in place while he raped me. I let my eyes wander down to his cock, which would probably have been pounding away inside me around now if things had gone his way. I could tell pretty early into our date that he was a predator. Perhaps it takes one to know one, but I could see it in his dark eyes and sly glances, the hungry way he took in my body, the type of questions he asked, his eagerness to buy me drinks. He probably didn’t think I had it in me to notice. Of course he didn’t. He just saw my shiny, sweeping hair, my lashes, my clothes, my smile. He saw what everybody else sees: my mask.

The other reason is defensive: to make sure the body remains properly hidden and will not be discovered by the authorities or casual passersby. Kondro made it clear that he did not participate in this type of behavior, either. He thought that going back to the crime scene or dump site made it more likely he would be found out. Why was this? What separated him from the thinking of any other offender who didn’t want to be caught? The fact that he was already associated with his victim. Unlike other predators who target strangers, Kondro knew he would come within the circle of potential suspects and that his movements about the area might be observed or scrutinized. He was uncomfortable with the fact that he was “pressed for time” after Rima’s murder, but the police seemed to be focusing on Rusty, so better to leave well enough alone.

The news of another predator in the mix put me on edge, made me nervous, made me actually scared for the first time since I’d flown in to Boston. The fear wasn’t of death; I think I'd moved past that notion out in the desert. No, it was the fear of not being in control of the situation, of the destabilization of the plan that I had put into motion. I had confidence in what I had started because I was calling the numbers as I put the plan into action. I was always the initiator, the instigator, never the one reacting to the situation but instead the catalyst. Being in control was the edge that allowed me to operate, to do what I needed to do. Now that edge was being dulled, ground down by the notion that someone out there was just waiting for me to wander in. I was just some fucking kid who watched too many movies; he was a guy who really, actually killed people for money and was good enough to keep doing it and become a “professional”.

He wasn't like this when I knew him." "Yes, he was," Mr Crepsley disagreed. "He just had not grown into his true evil self yet. He was born bad, as certain people are. Humans will tell you that everybody can be helped, that everyone has a choice. In my experience, that is not so. Good people can sometimes choose badness, but bad people cannot choose good." "I don't believe that," Harkat said softly. "I think good and evil exist...in all of us. We might be born leaning more towards...one than the other, but the choice is there. It has to be. Otherwise, we're mere...puppets of fate." "Perhaps," Mr Crepsley grunted. "Many see it as you do. But I do not think so. Most are born with the freedom of choice. But there are those who defy the rules, who are wicked from the beginning. Maybe they are puppets of fate, born that way for a reason, to test the rest of us. I do not know. But natural monsters do exist. On that point, nothing you say can shake me. And Steve Leonard is one of them." "But then it isn't his fault," I said, frowning. "If he was born bad, he isn't to blame for growing up evil." "No more than a lion is to blame for being a predator," Mr Crepsley agreed. I thought about that. "If that's the case, we shouldn't hate him — we should pity him." Mr Crepsley shook his head. "No, Darren. You should neither hate nor pity a monster — merely fear it, and do all in your power to make an end of it before it destroys you.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of something moving behind me. When I turned, I saw two coyotes standing in an ambush positon. They were watching my brother Jep, who was working as our cameraman and was positioned to the right of us. The coyotes saw Jep moving, but because he was so camouflaged, they apparently didn’t realize he was a human. Our guide in Nebraska had warned us that he’d seen several coyotes jump from the top of the bluffs to the ducks below for a quick meal. The landowner was having a lot of problems with the coyotes, which were suspected of killing some of his farm animals. He even feared a few of them might have rabies. Evidently, the coyotes heard us blowing our duck calls and believed we were actual ducks. Now they were ready for their next meal. We had accidentally called in two predators using our duck calls and in essence became the hunted instead of the hunters! The two coyotes were licking their chops and were about to attack the only unarmed member of our hunting party! It was like a scene out of a bad horror film called Killer Coyotes. I looked at Jep and realized he was oblivious to what was going on behind him. I jumped out of our makeshift blind and ran toward the coyotes. One of the coyotes took off running, but the other one ran about twenty feet and stopped. It turned around and started growling at me. It looked at me like, “Hey, you want some of me?” I raised my shotgun and shot it dead. I had planned on shooting only ducks, but it’s a bad move when a coyote decides it wants to fight a human. Once it stood its ground and said, “You or me,” I wasn’t going to take a threat from a wild scavenger. It was a prime example of what happens when animals become overpopulated and lose their fear of humans. The lesson learned: don’t bring claws and teeth to a gunfight.

It may seem paradoxical to claim that stress, a physiological mechanism vital to life, is a cause of illness. To resolve this apparent contradiction, we must differentiate between acute stress and chronic stress. Acute stress is the immediate, short-term body response to threat. Chronic stress is activation of the stress mechanisms over long periods of time when a person is exposed to stressors that cannot be escaped either because she does not recognize them or because she has no control over them. Discharges of nervous system, hormonal output and immune changes constitute the flight-or-fight reactions that help us survive immediate danger. These biological responses are adaptive in the emergencies for which nature designed them. But the same stress responses, triggered chronically and without resolution, produce harm and even permanent damage. Chronically high cortisol levels destroy tissue. Chronically elevated adrenalin levels raise the blood pressure and damage the heart. There is extensive documentation of the inhibiting effect of chronic stress on the immune system. In one study, the activity of immune cells called natural killer (NK) cells were compared in two groups: spousal caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s disease, and age- and health-matched controls. NK cells are front-line troops in the fight against infections and against cancer, having the capacity to attack invading micro-organisms and to destroy cells with malignant mutations. The NK cell functioning of the caregivers was significantly suppressed, even in those whose spouses had died as long as three years previously. The caregivers who reported lower levels of social support also showed the greatest depression in immune activity — just as the loneliest medical students had the most impaired immune systems under the stress of examinations. Another study of caregivers assessed the efficacy of immunization against influenza. In this study 80 per cent among the non-stressed control group developed immunity against the virus, but only 20 per cent of the Alzheimer caregivers were able to do so. The stress of unremitting caregiving inhibited the immune system and left people susceptible to influenza. Research has also shown stress-related delays in tissue repair. The wounds of Alzheimer caregivers took an average of nine days longer to heal than those of controls. Higher levels of stress cause higher cortisol output via the HPA axis, and cortisol inhibits the activity of the inflammatory cells involved in wound healing. Dental students had a wound deliberately inflicted on their hard palates while they were facing immunology exams and again during vacation. In all of them the wound healed more quickly in the summer. Under stress, their white blood cells produced less of a substance essential to healing. The oft-observed relationship between stress, impaired immunity and illness has given rise to the concept of “diseases of adaptation,” a phrase of Hans Selye’s. The flight-or-fight response, it is argued, was indispensable in an era when early human beings had to confront a natural world of predators and other dangers. In civilized society, however, the flight-fight reaction is triggered in situations where it is neither necessary nor helpful, since we no longer face the same mortal threats to existence. The body’s physiological stress mechanisms are often triggered inappropriately, leading to disease. There is another way to look at it. The flight-or-fight alarm reaction exists today for the same purpose evolution originally assigned to it: to enable us to survive. What has happened is that we have lost touch with the gut feelings designed to be our warning system. The body mounts a stress response, but the mind is unaware of the threat. We keep ourselves in physiologically stressful situations, with only a dim awareness of distress or no awareness at all.

Not a comforting thought, but Bryce nonetheless popped the silver bean into her mouth, worked up enough saliva, and swallowed. Its metal was cool against her tongue, her throat, and she could have sworn she felt its slickness sliding into her stomach. Lightning cleaved her brain. She was being ripped in two. Her body couldn’t hold all the searing light— Then blackness slammed in. Quiet and restful and eternal. No—that was the room around her. She was on the floor, curled over her knees, and … glowing. Brightly enough to illuminate Rhysand’s and Amren’s shocked faces. Azriel was already poised over her, that deadly dagger drawn and gleaming with a strange black light. He noted the darkness leaking from the blade and blinked. It was the most shock Bryce had seen him display. “Put it away, you fool,” Amren said. “It sings for her, and by bringing it close—” The blade vanished from Azriel’s hand, whisked away by a shadow. Silence, taut and rippling, spread through the room. Bryce stood slowly—as Randall and her mom had taught her to move in front of Vanir and other predators. And as she rose, she found it in her brain: the knowledge of a language that she had not known before. It sat on her tongue, ready to be spoken, as instinctual as her own. It shimmered along her skin, stinging down her spine, her shoulder blades—wait. Oh no. No, no, no. Bryce didn’t dare reach for the tattoo of the Horn, to call attention to the letters that formed the words Through love, all is possible. She could feel them reacting to whatever had been in that spell that set her glowing and could only pray it wasn’t visible. Her prayers were in vain. Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” They must have seen the words through her T-shirt when she’d been on the floor. With every breath, the tingling lessened, like the glow was fading. But the damage was already done. They once again assessed her. Three apex killers, contemplating a threat. Then Azriel said in a soft, lethal voice, “Explain or you die.

Nevertheless, it would be prudent to remain concerned. For, like death, IT would come: Armageddon. There would be-without exaggeration-a series of catastrophes. As a consequence of the evil in man...-no mere virus, however virulent, was even a burnt match for our madness, our unconcern, our cruelty-...there would arise a race of champions, predators of humans: namely earthquakes, eruptions, tidal waves, tornados, typhoons, hurricanes, droughts-the magnificent seven. Floods, winds, fires, slides. The classical elements, only angry. Oceans would warm, the sky boil and burn, the ice cap melt, the seas rise. Rogue nations, like kids killing kids at their grammar school, would fire atomic-hydrogen-neutron bombs at one another. Smallpox would revive, or out of the African jungle would slide a virus no one understood. Though reptilian only in spirit, the disease would make us shed our skins like snakes and, naked to the nerves, we'd expire in a froth of red spit. Markets worldwide would crash as reckless cars on a speedway do, striking the wall and rebounding into one another, hurling pieces of themselves at the spectators in the stands. With money worthless-that last faith lost-the multitude would riot, race against race at first, God against God, the gots against the gimmes. Insects hardened by generations of chemicals would consume our food, weeds smother our fields, fire ants, killer bees sting us while we're fleeing into refuge water, where, thrashing we would drown, our pride a sodden wafer. Pestilence. War. Famine. A cataclysm of one kind or another-coming-making millions of migrants. Wearing out the roads. Foraging in the fields. Looting the villages. Raping boys and women. There'd be no tent cities, no Red Cross lunches, hay drops. Deserts would appear as suddenly as patches of crusty skin. Only the sun would feel their itch. Floods would sweep suddenly over all those newly arid lands as if invited by the beach. Forest fires would burn, like those in coal mines, for years, uttering smoke, making soot for speech, blackening every tree leaf ahead of their actual charring. Volcanoes would erupt in series, and mountains melt as though made of rock candy till the cities beneath them were caught inside the lava flow where they would appear to later eyes, if there were any eyes after, like peanuts in brittle. May earthquakes jelly the earth, Professor Skizzen hotly whispered. Let glaciers advance like motorboats, he bellowed, threatening a book with his fist. These convulsions would be a sign the parasites had killed their host, evils having eaten all they could; we'd hear a groan that was the going of the Holy Ghost; we'd see the last of life pissed away like beer from a carouse; we'd feel a shudder move deeply through this universe of dirt, rock, water, ice, and air, because after its long illness the earth would have finally died, its engine out of oil, its sky of light, winds unable to catch a breath, oceans only acid; we'd be witnessing a world that's come to pieces bleeding searing steam from its many wounds; we'd hear it rattling its atoms around like dice in a cup before spilling randomly out through a split in the stratosphere, night and silence its place-well-not of rest-of disappearance. My wish be willed, he thought. Then this will be done, he whispered so no God could hear him. That justice may be served, he said to the four winds that raged in the corners of his attic.

As with some examples we have shown earlier, these very vocal advocates seem to overlook the “genocide” of native animals perpetrated by introduced predators and display little “animal respect” for the Australian Continent’s 100-plus threatened species.

Both women had been wearing earbuds—one of the many things Livia taught her self-defense students never to do, because demonstrating both that you can’t hear and that you’re too naïve to know better is a beacon to predators.

Scientists believe that sharks are one of the oldest species of animals still in existence. Nature built them as perfect predators. Perfect killing machines. Nature hasn't had to revise or update them much. They were built right the first time. Dolphins are very different. Scientists say that millions of years ago, dolphins were land animals. Sea mammals not very different from humans and other mammals. They evolved their way back into the ocean. Part of that evolution included learning to cope with predators, with killer whales and sharks. I don't now what sea the Taxxon race evolved in. I don't know what natural predators they faced there. But they were not ready for this ocean. They were not ready to go one-on-one with the masters of Earth's deep seas. They were no match for dolphin or shark. -Animorphs #4, The Visitor page 69

The most frequent use of a gun in self-defense is when an ordinary citizen feels threatened by a human predator and produces a gun — usually a handgun. The potential robber, rapist, or murderer sees the gun, realizes his victim-selection process needs revision, and takes off faster than a shotgun slug goes through a sheet-rock wall. No one gets hurt. Usually, the incident is not reported to the police, and there is seldom a report of the incident in the local paper or on the local television news — no blood, no story. At the other end of the media-attention scale is when a disturbed individual turns up at a place where many people congregate — a school, a mall, a church, a workplace — and starts shooting, killing and wounding as many as possible. It is these incidents that get national attention across the air-waves, cable television, and newspapers. Screams for more gun control by the country’s professional whiners, who think more laws will solve everything, typically follow. They hate the idea of ordinary citizens carrying concealed handguns for protection, and they hate the people who take responsibility for their own safety.

Studies of twins have shown that psychopathy may be a trait more heritable than environmental, yet good children can thrive despite bad parents, and vice versa.

The major killers of humanity since 8500 B.C. have not been starvation, warfare, accidents, or large predators. While these were major threats in our hunter-gatherer days, the dawn of civilization brought about new problems. The major threats to human life since 8500 B.C.—microorganisms and viruses such as smallpox, influenza, tuberculosis, malaria, plague, measles, and cholera—have been literally invisible. These infectious agents, which we may refer to as "micropredators," all have something of importance in common: each evolved from a disease in domesticated animals that then adapted to, and infected, human societies.

Dart initially echoed Darwin’s theory that bipedalism freed the hands of early hominins to make and use hunting tools, which in turn selected for big brains, hence better hunting abilities. Then, in a famous 1953 paper, clearly influenced by his war experiences, Dart proposed that the first humans were not just hunters but also murderous predators.18 Dart’s words are so astonishing, you have to read them: The loathsome cruelty of mankind to man forms one of his inescapable characteristics and differentiative features; and it is explicable only in terms of his carnivorous, and cannibalistic origin. The blood-bespattered, slaughter-gutted archives of human history from the earliest Egyptian and Sumerian records to the most recent atrocities of the Second World War accord with early universal cannibalism, with animal and human sacrificial practices of their substitutes in formalized religions and with the world-wide scalping, head-hunting, body-mutilating and necrophilic practices of mankind in proclaiming this common bloodlust differentiator, this predaceous habit, this mark of Cain that separates man dietetically from his anthropoidal relatives and allies him rather with the deadliest of Carnivora. Dart’s killer-ape hypothesis, as it came to be known, was popularized by the journalist Robert Ardrey in a best-selling book, African Genesis, that found a ready audience in a generation disillusioned by two world wars, the Cold War, the Korean and Vietnam Wars, political assassinations, and widespread political unrest.19 The killer-ape hypothesis left an indelible stamp on popular culture including movies like Planet of the Apes, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and A Clockwork Orange. But the Rousseauians weren’t dead yet. Reanalyses of bones in the limestone pits from which fossils like the Taung Baby came showed they were killed by leopards, not early humans.20 Further studies revealed these early hominins were mostly vegetarians. And as a reaction to decades of bellicosity, many scientists in the 1970s embraced evidence for humans’ nicer side, especially gathering, food sharing, and women’s roles. The most widely discussed and audacious hypothesis, proposed by Owen Lovejoy, was that the first hominins were selected to become bipeds to be more cooperative and less aggressive.21 According to Lovejoy, early hominin females favored males who were better at walking upright and thus better able to carry food with which to provision them. To entice these tottering males to keep coming back with food, females encouraged exclusive long-term monogamous relationships by concealing their menstrual cycles and having permanently large breasts (female chimps advertise when they ovulate with eye-catching swellings, and their breasts shrink when they are not nursing). Put crudely, females selected for cooperative males by exchanging sex for food. If so, then selection against reactive aggression and frequent fighting is as old as the hominin lineage.22

These are not the same as the sadistic, sexual predators like Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, or Jeffrey Dahmer, who would fit any definition we might want to apply. I prosecuted thirteen defendants during my time in Homicide who met the most basic requirements, but only six were true serial killers, and between them they likely accounted for well over a hundred murders, and certainly over a hundred separate sexual assaults. They were clever, prolific, and incredibly cruel.

Tangling up in bed like this, naked and hard with a predator’s mouth against his and a killer’s hands all over his skin, was deliciously dangerous—if this was what it was like to dance with the devil, then Dom hoped the music never stopped playing. He

A phantom vampire lover, a religious fanatic killer, and a beauty queen predator. Just another day in undead Oz.

I’d just like to understand how these poor girls found themselves in the hands of the worst kind of killer. Feel how that predator managed to move around in this city. Every killer leaves a smell, even years later. The smell of vice and perversion. I want to get a whiff. I want to walk in the places where he killed.

By the time Lyall set foot on the shores of Stephens Island, almost a third of New Zealand’s unique species were already extinct due to Maori and European settlement, the habitats they destroyed, and the mammalian predators they brought with them.

The look I told you I saw in your eyes. Years ago, when you were recruited for the Special Activities Division. I told you your talents would go to waste running agents, analyzing signals, working behind a desk. You’re a natural born predator, son. A killer. Just like me.

We have no fitting label for individuals like Henley whom predators target to convert into helpers. They’re not the same as the victims they help to harm, but they’re also not the same as the primary predator. They occupy a fuzzy middle ground. They’re often chosen merely because they’re young, vulnerable, weak, needy, or compliant and therefore easy to manipulate. Since society tends to view them as equal offenders, especially when they do heinous things, researchers haven’t fully studied their unique experiences. Yet dissecting how individuals who’d never considered killing someone might do so under certain influences can reveal ways to protect future potential candidates. Corll had two known apprentices, both immature teenage boys. At Corll’s behest, they learned to abduct, guard, murder, and bury other boys.

Talia was death. ​She was a fucking killer; a predator and anyone deserving of her justice would get it and get it

Hunter-killer drones like the Reaper and the Predator have one job: eliminate their targets—or fly home, having failed. The nature of the technology makes missions a matter of “all or nothing,” notes the French philosopher Grégoire Chamayou in A Theory of the Drone. “Either shoot to kill or take no action at all. Lethal force is the only option available.

The killer whale is a natural predator of the moose.

I had to honor this request or the Nuans would hate me forever. What could she possibly want? “She wishes to obtain a small predator.” “A small predator?” “Yes.” Nuan Ara nodded. “The silent, stealthy, vicious killer that prowls by night and mercilessly murders its victims for food and pleasure.” Um… What?

A CAT!” the creature yelled. “Behold, campers, this vile and destructive creature! This killer of songbirds! This murderer of chipmunks! This perfidious predator!” I know—it sounds complimentary. But I took offense at the creature’s tone.

You must become a prey to know the hunter. Yes. That’s true. You must endure the pain to know what others unknown to you must have felt. ‘No cause can be causeless,’ a wise man once wrote. We need that jolting moment to arouse us from slumber. Henceforth, the pages in history will be written in different fonts and colours. The words shall be Bolder! Stronger! Fearsome! The prey has woken its killer instinct, or as they say—the hunters become the hunted.

Dean Koontz’s Intensity.

Sept 27-69-6.30 by knife by Stewart Stafford I am the thief on the golden hill, Predator in sight, a hooded chill, Masked, armed and primed to strike, Prey pinned by the lake, as I like. Tie them up on blankets, used, In time they'll see it's all a ruse, Pretend to leave, then come back, Back-slashed in a frenzied attack. Left to die, their assailant gone, Darkness falls on two bleeding fawns, Stagger up the hill to try and get aid, Passing out as the lifeforce fades. Flashlight in the eyes, back for the kill! Help arrives, shakily standing still, Message on his car, Zodiac was here, He lived, she passed, and then only fear. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

I’m walking this over to you, I’m talking to you, which means this is important.

Humans have a different predator today, it used to be bacteria and viruses and now it is a toxic environment created by a corrupt government.

The top human predator in Ukraine is war.

Serial sexual predators were masters at slipping through the knowledge gaps that formed between law enforcement agencies.

The copycat is more similar to a stalker than what we would consider a serial sexual predator. The killing, for them, is a means to an end, whereas for a true sexual sadist, the killing itself is the end.

After seven years of pain and starvation, little red hair, after torment and suffering, I thought to take your blood. “My life,” she corrected bravely, needing all the pieces of the puzzle. He stared relentlessly, the watchful eyes of a predator. Shea twisted her fingers together in agitation. He looked a stranger, an invincible being with no real emotion, only a hard resolve and a killer’s instincts. She cleared her throat. “You needed me.” I had no thought but to feed. My body recognized yours before my mind did. “I don’t understand.” Once I recognized you as my lifemate, my first thought was to punish you for leaving me in torment, then bind you to me for eternity. There was no apology, only a waiting. Shea sensed danger, but she did not back down. “How did you bind me to you?” The exchange of our blood. Her heart slammed painfully. “What does that mean, exactly?” The blood bond is strong. I am in your mind, as you are in mine. It is impossible for us to lie to one another. I feel your emotions and know your thoughts as you do mine. She shook her head in denial. “That may be true for you, but not for me. I feel your pain at times, but I never know your thoughts.” That is because you choose not to merge with me. Your mind seeks the touch and reassurance of mine often, yet you refuse to allow it, so I merge with you to prevent your discomfort. Shea could not deny the truth in his words. Often she felt her mind tuning itself to his, reaching out for him. Disturbed by the unwanted and unfamiliar need, she always imposed a strict discipline on herself. It was unconscious on her part, something she did automatically for self-protection. Jacques, within minutes of her need arising, always reached for her to merge them. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You seem to know more about what is happening here than I do, Jacques. Tell me.” Lifemates are bound together for all eternity. One cannot exist without the other. We balance one another. You are the light to my darkness. We must share one another often.

Partnis's fight-masters will tell you it's a science, this business of fists and knives. They'll tell you, keep a cool head, detached, control.' The man had given a quick shrug of his shoulders and spat.'He'll tell you the professional calculates, watches, plans.''Don't they'' Nona had turned back towards him.'Nature shaped us, little girl. Shaped the animals. Predators. Prey. Millions of years. Fighting, making children, dying. A cycle that hones each to its purpose. And what have we in common, wolf, eagle, man, under-killers, bears, all of us'' His eyebrows had shaped the question. Nona had waited for him to answer, wondering what exactly under-killers were.'Rage. We've got hate and anger and red fury, child. Saw it in you too. Got your teeth into that idiot boy. Didn't care that he might snap your arms off.' The man had gone down on one knee, face close to hers.'Here in the Corridor they teach you to put that anger aside. They got their reasons. Keep a calm head and you'll see more. But on the ice we know better than to let go of the weapons so many hard years have forged for us.' He had jabbed a blunt finger at Nona's chest.'Keep that fire. Use it. We're wild things us men, and when we remember it we're at our most dangerous.

Chacon retired in 2014, and at his going-away party said the one thing he'd never miss was pulling another dead child out of the water. He meant it as a joke, but it left his colleagues stunned. To this day, he suffers from post-traumatic stress. He will probably have it the rest of his life. He sometimes thinks that the reason he and his wife were never able to have children despite years of trying, specialist after specialist offering no solution, was so he'd never have to know a parent's grief.

And what if I was a mythical vampire, little one, holding you captive in my lair?” She smiled up at his serious face, absorbing the pain in his brooding eyes. “I would trust you with my life, Mikhail, vampire or not. And I would trust you with the life of my children. You’re arrogant and sometimes overbearing, but you could never be evil. If you are a vampire, then a vampire is not the creature of the legends.” He moved away from her, not wanting her to see how much her total, unconditional acceptance meant to him. It didn’t matter to him that she didn’t know what she was saying. He felt the truth of her words. “Most people have a dark side, Raven, I more than others. I am capable of extreme violence, cruelty even, but I am not a vampire. I am a predator, first and foremost, but I am not a vampire.” His voice was husky, strangled. Raven moved to close the distance between them, to touch the edge of his mouth, smooth a deep line. “I never thought such a thing. You sound like you believe such a terrible being exists. Mikhail, if such a thing was true, I would know you could not be one of them. You always judge yourself so harshly. I can feel the good in you.” “Can you?” he asked grimly. “Drink this.” “It better not put me to sleep. I’m going back to the inn to my own bed sometime this night,” she told him firmly as she took the glass from him. Her voice teased him, but her eyes were anxious. “I do feel the good in you, Mikhail. I see it in everything you do. You put everyone else first in your life.” He closed his eyes in pain. “Is that what you think, Raven?” She studied the contents of the glass, wondering why her words were hurting him. “I know it. I have chased killers, yet I did not have to follow through and bring those killers to justice. That must eat away at you all the time.” “You give me far too much credit, little one, but I thank you for your faith in me.

give

twenty-eight years old, getting elective surgery

Cats are opportunistic predators by nature. If given a chance to kill a bird or other small animal, most cats will take it. That is just the way cats are made.

dominance—those who needed power over another for sexual gratification; hallucinatory—those compelled by voices or visions; objective oriented—those on a mission to exterminate a particular class of people like prostitutes or a racial minority group; and lust—those for whom violence and sex were the same things. No dominance was involved, as the victims had been unconscious during the entire interaction, and dominance killers needed their victims to know they were being dominated. Pharr and River were not from any ethnic, racial, or religious minority groups. The possibilities were that he was being compelled by hallucinations he believed were instructing him to carry out the killings; that he was a lust killer, though the evidence for sexual assault was sparse; or that this was not serial murder at all but murder for money, for revenge, or for hire, with the allusions to Sarpong thrown in to deceive law enforcement. Or this was an entirely unique type of serial predator as yet unidentified by the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit. If he was a lust or hallucinatory killer, he wouldn’t stop until he was dead or in prison. Until then, all he could do was keep moving

He imagined the world without men. Cities would be reclaimed by nature and overgrown until, hundreds of years hence, they would look much like the mysterious ruins sticking out of the jungles of Asia and South America. Ruins, relics, no more. He honestly did not believe the entire race would be exterminated, just the lion’s share. What was left would be very little different from Neolithic man—hunters and scavengers. Beasts that would rob from each other, rape, murder, and hunt each other down as prey. Essentially, what men were now, but without anything but the most rudimentary tribal traditions to support them and absolutely no laws to prevent them from acting like the slavering beasts they indeed were. Hunters and killers, apex predators that would abandon their churches to worship in the forest and give praise to the cycles of the moon. Given time, things like ethics and morality and even higher culture itself would be forgotten.

Yet Alaska remains the “Great Land,” as James Michener called it: the closest we have to a time before man, unsullied terrain, nature so titanically overwhelming it’s impossible not to be awed and a little afraid.