Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4) by Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci

indoctrination he had received.  To him, all humans were ugly, foul beings; the more insulation they possessed the more unsightly they became to him.  He watched in revulsion as they answered their every extravagant habit, filled their faces with as much fare their pudgy hands could find.  Food was not eaten out of necessity, to satiate an empty belly; it was not mere nourishment.  The humans he encountered relied on food to fill ridiculous holes their own vapid emotions had created.  They celebrated around tables overflowing with numerous rich courses, each more abounding than the last, until finishing with treats created almost entirely from sugar and butter.   Their overconsumption of food was representative of their whole belief system, how they continuously needed to be validated by extraneous sources, by each other.  He found the entire arrangement to be horrid and reprehensible, their sick codependence with food, with each other, nauseated him.   He could not wait until the world was cleansed of the parasitic human race altogether, replaced by his maker’s superior, comelier creations.  That would be the advent of paradise.
    Until that moment arrived, Jarrod was forced to walk among the vile masses, outnumbered and stifled by their ghastliness.  Day after day, he labored through life forced to look at the disgusting drudges, had to smile at them, eat near them.  At times, their ugliness was more than he could bear; it overwhelmed him.  When their unsightliness overtook him, the only solace he found was to rush to the nearest reflective object and stare at himself.  His reflection was water in a desert, fresh air to breathe in otherwise fetid environment.  The truth of his beauty, his perfection, never failed to inspire him and refresh him anew.  His reflection gave him hope.  In it, he saw the future and drew strength to endure the world until the day of reckoning arrived.
    After his unsuccessful abduction, his reflection had soothed him enough to return to the shopping center he’d found the obese wretch at and search for a woman who actually was pregnant.  It had not taken him long before he had spotted one waddling around.  Only her belly was rounded and her hand instinctively protected it as she moved through the crowds.  He had been certain she was expecting so he had watched her and waited until she left.  Unfortunately for him, she had traveled along routes that were frequented.  He had to follow her to her house in a cramped suburban development and, with her address and the information revealed by the computer mounted to his cruiser, had been able to learn her name and various other miscellaneous tidbits of information.  Her names, both maiden and married, had been the most useful pieces of information he had gathered.  Social networks revealed the rest.  On one such network, she had confirmed his suspicion by posting that she was twenty-two weeks into her pregnancy. 
    He had left her at her house, relieved, and had known that returning at nighttime would be necessary.  
    Partially enveloped in the velvety shadows of night, he looked up at himself, caught in a perfect glow of moonlight.  He saw the faint crease his earlier frustration had created between his eyebrows and frowned.  Frustration, though still an attractive expression on him, was by far his least flattering and threatened to permanently wrinkle his smooth skin.  He would be sure to reduce the likelihood of making such faces in the future by eliminating circumstances that caused them.  What he was about to do was one such elimination.
    He sat outside her house, readied to right a wrong with his own perfect hands.  And though he was only supposed to act against the current social norms when ordered by Dr. Franklin Terzini, Jarod felt compelled to undertake an assignment he thought demanded immediate attention, and correct it.
    He stepped out of his car and strode assuredly to the woman’s front door, only not the