Its eyes lit up. This was because of one reason and one reason alone.

I had spotted its prey.

Mr. Gorf was a scientist. He had been requested by his Alma Mater to lead a Top Secret expedition to India. This meant that he was on his plane to India when he was told what they were about to do. Capture a live Manticore. And bring it back home.

It stalked its prey. Watching and waiting patiently. It had been over an hour now. It was slowly but surely blocking all exits. It would be quick, but painful.

Mr. Gorf suddenly sat up. He felt that something was wrong. He looked around the camp. None of his companions were in their tents. He looked around again. Only then did he notice that he was the only one surprised to hear the news of going to India. Not even his wife.

Mrs. Gorf looked around her instruments. All was set. All they needed was he.

Mr. Gorf ran. For he had seen the radioactive isotopes in his wife's bag. He was going to be a test experiment! So he ran. But they would catch up with him.

Mrs. Gorf cried out. He had escaped. But, if he would make it back to civilization, he would report them. There was no way they were going to let that happen. She grabbed her pistol.

He had been shot. By his own wife. As his life started flowing from is own bullet wound, he made a pact with the devil. He would become immortal. To spread darkness and fear. The devil agreed.

Finally, it pounced. Mrs. Gorf was killed. But not before she suffered. He was contented. The man-faced Manticore slowly drifted into the darkness, to stalk yet another. Mr. Gorf suddenly disappeared into the jungle's darkness.