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My name is Sean Crenshaw. When I was 12 I had an experience that would forever change my life. I started Monster Squad as a club. A place where me and my friends could hang out and talk about our favorite monster movies. We hung out in my backyard in the tree house my dad made for me. Until, Count fuckin’ Dracula blew it up. He used dynamite, talk about overkill. Anyway my mother got me a book, Van Helsing’s Diary and that led me and my friends down the path from monster movie fans to monster killers. If you had told me before the Forces of Darkness attacked that I’d still be monster hunter nearly 30 years later I’d have called you crazy. Then again if you had told me monsters were real and that the Earth would be consumed by zombies I’d have laughed in your face. After that night my father was nearly killed, the center of my town destroyed, and my tree house blown up by Dracula, well, I’m still here doing it.
“Look I know you’re into this stuff. Just come with me.” The voice is on the edge of begging.
“I don’t think so.” The voice on the other end of the line remains calm and assertive.
“What do you mean, ‘You don’t think so’? This is right up your alley.”
“It would be except there’s not enough evidence.”
“Evidence! Since when does the great Sean Crenshaw of the Monster Squad need evidence? Look I called you to help. Besides there is no risk on your end, the oil company is paying for everything.” The last word oozes from Earl Bassett’s lips like slime in a Graboids gullet.
“Look I’d love to come down and help, hunting Graboids has been on my wish list for years, but I have a case up in Oregon to take care of.”
“What could possibly be in Oregon that’s more important then Graboids?” The cynicism is clear in Earl’s tone.
“Yes, a werewolf.”
“Well shit. That is pretty important.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Look if you can make it I could use the help, besides this is a huge money maker…”
“If I can make it I’ll let you know.”
“Alright then. Talk to you later.”
“Goodbye Earl.” Sean hangs up the phone with a click. He looks up at his best friend and business partner Patrick, “You ready to go hunting?”
“I am always ready.”
“You ready to go hunting” Sean looks over at Patrick, his tactical vest is loaded to the brim with gear; magazines with traditional ammunition and several with silver, Holy Water, several items of mystical importance, and his trusty sidearm. This wasn’t there first time hunting a lycan, in fact they had lost count how many they had eliminated. Eugene could tell them, he kept track of that kind of stuff.
“I am always ready.” The two men stand at a door, ready to head out into the night. The few straggling undead don’t pose much of a threat, the werewolf lurking in the woods, well it’s what they came for.
“On three. One. Two…”
“Wait, do you mean ‘One. Two. Three.’ Then go. Or do you mean ‘One. Two. Go.”
“Why do you do this overtime?”
“Because I know it annoys you.”
“It does not.” He pushes Patrick’s shoulder in mock frustration.
“Does too.” Patrick returns the shove.
“Alright look, you know what I mean. We have to get this damn thing before it gets us.”
“I know. I just wish the other guys were here. I mean, did you see the size of the damn thing. It’s the biggest one yet.”
“That’s what she said.” Sean chuckles at his own joke.
“Seriously? You’re better then a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.”
“Okay, okay.” Seriousness returns to Sean’s face. “We know it’s out there. We know it can see better then us. Hear better then us. Smell better then us. And that it’s stronger then us. But this is what we do.”
“Volunteer for suicide runs. Yeah I know.”
“There isn’t any volunteering involved. We’re getting paid. You saw the supplies they were willing to fork over to get rid of this thing. Now enough chit chat, let’s get out there and kick ass.”
The two turn towards the door. Sean turns the handle while Patrick looks down the barrel of his rifle. “Do it.” Sean opens the door. Nothing jumps out. The two waste no time exiting quickly, Sean’s rifle is shouldered before he’s out the door. They scan the tree line hoping their thermal scopes will show them where the beast is. “Sean. 10 o’clock.” Sean turns in the direction and sees it. Crouching behind a tree. It’s breathe giving it away. Using the hand signals taught to them by Horace the two advance. Patrick takes a position behind the burned out husk of a car, it’s make and model lost to time. Sean continues, each step bringing him ever closer to the beast. They had injured it in the warehouse when they tried to trap it, unfortunately for them Sean had used a pistol loaded with lead ammo. All that did to a werewolf was hurt it and piss it off. Both the rifles were properly loaded with the ammunition Rudy made for them, pure silver. All Sean needed was one clean shot. Sean knew he would have to step to the side of the tree to have any chance of taking a shot. He also knew not to cross in front of Patrick who was also ready to take the beast out. He stepped to the right, inching his way closer. Before he could react the thing launched itself to the left, a bad decision on its part, the rapport of Patrick’s rifle echoed through the night, the bullet slammed into the creature, it fell to the ground with a thud. Now came the worst part, seeing who the infected was as the creature reverted back to human form. The naked man lie curled on his side, blood pouring out a wound in his gut. The two step up rifles aimed at the prostrate figure. The man looked up at them, “Fuck you.” His last words.
“Let’s go home Sean.”
“Yeah, but let’s get paid first.”
"O, woe be the day the enemy descends, mourn we will, for the sake of all that's holy in this universe....
... 'cause the Alley Viper Corps is gonna fuck it ALL up!" - NFC