He Who Fights Monsters

Session 11: Don't Bring a Khopesh to a Gun-fight

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We had a few months of quiet-time. Just a few zombies and monsters and that kind of shit – nothing worth worrying about.

Things with 8-Ball are going great! I’ve got some connections in Chicago now, and we’ve been running guns up into the city or out of it, depending on where they’re coming from. Plenty of guns getting sold the regular way, of course, but people still want some with the serial numbers already filed off.

Been checking in with the Loyalists too – things are going well there from all I can tell. I’m their official rep for the southern part of the state, which amounts to nothing most of the time, but some backup when I need to shoot some zombies and not get arrested. Not sure I like some of the new faces on Jonesboro’s pig squad, though. Might have to do something about that.

So I was out getting my run in after the breakfast of champions (Muscle Pharm and Vodka) when I come across, I shit you not, a fucking knight. All in chain mail with a sword and shit. He’s surrounded by cops and seems like he’s freaking out. We eventually get him away from the cops without more than a little tazer-burn, and our new doc What’s-her-name could take a look at him.

Turns out he’s a straight-up Templar, from 1114. We set him straight about where and when he was, and he talked about fighting this crocodile-headed demon bitch in some Egyptian tomb. He grabbed her tail in the fight and ended up here. I’m thinking, yeah, Beezleboss. Otherwise why the fuck would an Egyptian croc-demon come to Jonesboro?

So we go out looking for the other knights. We find Tomas, who seems pretty straight-up, and Paul, who is kind of a pussy I think. Not much of a knight so far, but maybe he’s got potential.

Turns out all of these Templars have magic Jesus-swords, and if demons get ‘em it’s bad news, so we had to track down some mummies and remove their heads with bullets. They had claws and sickles and shit, but we had guns, and that was kind of that.

Was nice to take The Vengeance out for a spin – old girl was gathering some dust. Reminded me I need to put in the additional cooling system – even a F250 struggles pulling around all that armor plating.

So, looks like we’ve got these Templars and some mummies to chase down. Looks like the head mummy is still out there – went by the ol’ Pawnee Museum and all the coffins were busted out from the inside. And here I was, worried I’d just end up another biker thug running guns and drugs. Back to monster-huntin’, baby. Love it.

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Session 10: We're Up All Night to Get Lucky

Things are looking up again, and it’s been a busy couple days. We headed back up to Chi-town to even the score with the Double-Banger – slipped down into the sewers all quiet-like, packing some Whitey Pete. Tom found its lair, with our pictures up like a stalker, and then lo and behold – here comes Banger. My ears are still ringing, but a handfull of incendiary rounds later, and I’m putting a round in the back of it’s skull while it tries to crawl away.

No, you missed your chance, slimy.

We go through the place, and find a bunch of skins and a little ugly statue:

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This dude. Turns out? Not your friend. Some kind of full-on Templar Illuminati shit. Dan Brown all the way.

So we tear the Double-Banger a fiery new one, then head back to the Loyalists. I talk ’em into leaving Ivy alone for a while, as they tried to tranq her last time she came by, so that is now a hard sell. We head back, but Val wants to stop by a winery for a wine-tasting. Why the fuck not, right?

Turns out it’s run by some kind of little pixie dude who is like the most enthusiastic wine-guy I’ve ever heard of. Rolling around in the shit. Tom goes snooping off, but I hardly notice ‘cause I’m talking to this chick in leather who looks kind of like Chyna from pro wrestling, except her fake tits aren’t as big. But with wine goggles on and some shared interests, I’m all about this Delilah chick. We go out to her Heavy Metal van and tear that shit apart. We do some damage. I shit you not.

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Meanwhile Tom does some shit and ends up smelling like old wine and holding this rabbit’s food, but without his jacket. Didn’t really get the story on that one.

We get back to the safe-house, and there’s a lot of talking about Baphomet and rituals and I’m puffing on a stogie and enjoying my afterglow when there’s a tapping on the door, then on the window. I don’t see anybody so I go outside and find a spikey blonde douchebag sneaking around in our bushes. He’s from another hunter group, and he’s after the rabbit’s foot. He goes for my gun, and ends up gut-shot.

Now I have this big damn hassle to deal with. I drag him and his flak vest down into the basement, and call up Val for some backup. We get to talking, seeing as these are his last moments. I give him a smoke and he gives me the run-down of this loser band-slash-hunter group he’s part of. I feel like…that is, I figure it’s not worth all the hassle of listening to him die the long way, so Val helps me dose him with enough morphine to put him down. Val starts working on putting together some fake John Doe tags so we can drop him in the morgue.

Then I hear the Limp Bizkit outside, and I figure, oh good, another douchebag surprise. Down the street there’s Tom waving a gun around at another dude who has a gun out, and they’re arguing outside this van that’s blasting LB. And I admit it, I lost my temper a little.

So this guy mouths off to me, even after I make it real clear what’ll happen if he doesn’t shut his mouth and move on. I’ve still got the Whitey Pete rounds in my 44, so I put a slug into their gas tank and turn the douchebag hunter crew into a pile of screams and wreckage.

I think Tom is getting used to my style of problem-solving, as he just heads off, mumbling about a new jacket. Priorities, but hey, what are you gonna do? Having an idiot-savant detective around is handy as shit.

Cops come by, but we don’t know nothin’. They’re learnin’.

I’m not sure what the hell was going on, but a rabbit died, Ivy seemed real happy, and Tom got some stew he wouldn’t share with the rest of us.

I get word from Sonny that the dirt-bikers are back in town causing headaches after I spend the day at the auto shop putting together The Vengeance. Finally finished putting in the new window assemblies that’ll actually raise and lower the Lucite and started putting some of the trim back into the truck now that the Kevlar and plates are all in place. Adds a good ton to the truck’s weight all told, but who wouldn’t want to drive through a hail of gunfire? I sure would, and now I can live the dream.

Next up, we fix this dirt-biker problem. You think people would learn, but you’ve always gotta learn ’em again.

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Session 9: Ailurophobia and the Double-banger

I thought I was ok with Ellie Arnold McKay‘s death. Ellie was ok with Ellie’s death, or at least it seemed that way. Lots of reasons for a demon to lie to me, but he seemed like he hadn’t gotten the deal he wanted from her. So wherever dead people go, she and Micah Arnold McKay are there.

It happened a week ago, and I thought I’d go and raise a glass to them, but it turns out I kept raising glasses from that point until the funeral. I mean, I’ve been sober a few times in the last week, but more often than not I haven’t been.

That wasn’t justice, not any kind of justice I know about. That was some bullshit. You hunt monsters, but you die in a hospital room from who-knows-what? Nobody can even explain it, not so I can understand.

The funeral is a blur, but I remember I gave a good eulogy for Ellie. The next thing I remember, I’m choking a dying guy unconscious. Something about a demon. Then there’s lost of talking, and so I take it upon myself to get rid of the body. Grab a computer repair truck and burn the motherfucker in an abandoned parking lot.

I catch a ride back with “Ivy” in her muscle car. Shit, I forgot her name. Handy with a gun. Speaking of handy with a gun, looks like the Loyalists have sent in some reinforcements, a chick named Valerie. Seems to know her shit, and is also good with a gun.

After that was a lot of gettin’-to-know-ya back at the safe-house. We end up having to go grab Jonny Mendez from Old Chink Quarry, using what’s-her-name as the honey-trap. We ask him politely why he abused a certain turtle, and it turns out he was sacrificing the turtle to a demon he met while on shrooms.

Yeah, that makes sense.

He decided to skip town, but Thomas Friedrich Oollery Narc’ed on him, so I guess he’s going down, and that’s probably that.

Next day, my Amazon Prime packages arrive at my post box – some nice white-p rounds. Locked and loaded, we’re heading out to go fuck up a DoubleBanger. Or whatever you call it.

Oh, and just for the record, fuck cats.

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Session 8: Mano-a-Monster
And mano and girl-mano and then the hospital

It started, like it does sometimes, with an axe-murderer. Word was, he looked just like me. So everybody was all wondering, “Jack, are you an axe-murderer? No, come on, really?”

No. So we head up to Chi-town, and it turns out the cops think I’m an axe-murderer too, because wanted posters with my handsome mug are all over the city. Bad news.

The rest of our little foursome of fury goes and investigates, and I sit back and have a smoke. At the crime scene, Scooby-Tom gets a whiff of something and, I shit you not, dives into the sewers like a fat ninja.

Long story short, we all ended up going down there, but one at a time, which, it turns out, was so fucking stupid. The Double-banger, or whatever it was, is like fucking bullet-proof, and it takes out Tom, Sohpie, and then me.

Next it’s a blur. I’m in police custody, but Andrea Meier pretends to be a detective, or something, and breaks me out. I’ve still got the staples.

So we’re at the Loyalist’s HQ, and Ellie’s husband flat-lines, which I now know means he starts dying, and gets covered in doctors and nurses. Then Ellie goes in, tries to Vulcan mind-meld with him, and drops to the floor too, and it sounds like she’s dying too.

And then there’s the albino devil guy, and he asks me if I want to save my friend. Of course, asshole. Then he says she refused the deal, and so I tell him to fuck off.

Because, choices matter.

And we’re going to have to kill this dude.

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Session 7: We Are All Meat
Why Jonesbor Can't Have Nice Things

I roll past Tom, and he’s sort of trotting his way through the winter along the highway like a hobo. I’m drawing the line on a side-car, but there’s always the bitch-seat, and I guess he’s getting used to it by now. Turns out he knows about a murder…somehow, I don’t really get how he knows this shit, but sure as the clap there it is. Blood spatter and a tooth and all CSI-like.

The Sheriff comes out, and fuck that guy. We know each other from way back, obviously, but fuck that guy. He’s saying that Tom somehow did the murder, then what, called him out there to arrest him? Bullshit. Obadiah “O” McGillicuddy. Shit, 8-Ball could run this town better than he can.

Hell, I guess we already kinda do.

Anyway, Tom declines my offer to pistol-whip the son-of-a-bitch and a lot of jabbering ensues. Tom and I head out for some food.

We decided to go check out the new diner in town, opened by a TV chef named Antoine Fish. Delicious food.

Tom’s cop-radar went off on a Latino dude working at the diner, and I think he stalked the guy or something. I headed off to Pawnee to…do some business. It was getting toward drinking-time when I heard someone shouting about immortality or some shit, and I figured – yeah, that’s my jam right there.

I roll up and there’s Tom wrestling the Latino dude who’s still jabbering about Jetsons something-or-other, until I choke him out.

In the back of the van is a bunch of shit that makes it pretty clear that this guy is some kind of cannibal. Now we know where the disappearances disappeared to. I think: if I wasn’t around, these people would have to tolerate a lot more jabbering. Few things say “Shut the fuck up” like the cold muzzle of a gun to the head.

We get back to the safe-house, and I’ve got a room set up for just this kind of situation – where you need to ask someone some hard questions, and make sure they answer. I’m getting ready, but Ellie Arnold McKay sits down and does her softy shrink thing and the guy spills. He’s – maybe he’s retarded or something? He thinks someone told him that if he eats people, and serves people to the diner customers, that he’ll never die.

It clicks in my head that I ate people earlier that day. So one thing I have to do is kill Chef Fish. But I’m getting ahead of myself – I didn’t even mention the Uzis yet.

So we set up a meet-and-greet with the chef with Sophie as bait. This is a few different kinds of wrong, but I don’t go into it. Meanwhile, a couple of guys creep up toward the house with Uzis, so Tom and I give ’em the trouble they came for. I axe one and he shotguns one, and the results the same – red mist and pieces.

Then there’s a hubbub upstairs, and we come in on some kind of demon-monster-thing. Someone hits it in the head with a golden crucifix, or something, and down he goes. And the it’s clean-up time. Ellie did the smart thing and called the gang to help out. We bug out.

So Tom ends up at the safe house, and we get to partying a little bit. Then around 2 we get a call from Ellie’s house – her husband is a monster now, or something. It isn’t clear, but we need to bring something from Sophie’s place to her house. Lucas St. Clair needs to drive and we take one of the shop trucks. I’ll just go ahead and say were were a couple different kinds of fucked up just then, and I’m not sure how this came off to anyone else.

Short version is, we bring the cross and Micah Arnold McKay is floating off his bed and seriously weird shit is happening. I call the Loyalists, and then end up sending a chopper. Or that’s what they told me after.

I thought Lucas was my dad, and then he was Darth Vader, and then he cut off my had, and I ran, and fuck me if I don’t end up soaked and in a ditch wrestling with him hours later. We drag our sorry asses back to Ellie’s place, and she has some new person telling her that her husband is in deep, grade-A Voodoo shit. Sophie does her scolding thing, and yeah, OK, maybe we pace the pharmaceuticals a little better. Calm down.

It’s about then I remember that the Mexican dude is still in our basement.

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Session 6: Loyalty
It was full of vampires

I slice up the bat-monster-vampire-Mikkelson, and we tumble out of the sky. Well, I drop like a rock, and I didn’t see where the bat-monster went. I climb down to the street and I’m after the thing like Hell’s behind me, until I realize I feel really weird. I’m definitely covered in blood, and I don’t know which is the monster’s and which is mine. Things start to spin, and I end up against a wall in an alleyway.

Some helpful fucker comes by to “call am Ambulance” and ends up stripping me butt-naked. I won’t even realize this not a normal naked-time until hours later. Someone is in the Ambulance with me, someone friendly. Probably Ellie Arnold McKay.

Next thing I know I wake up, or come to, in the hospital, and fuck me if I don’t feel great. I thought I was hurt way worse than I really was, looks like. I pull the tubes out and hook back up with the other hunters and once I have some shitty preppy clothes, we head out.

I remember a dream, or something, that I had, of this real pale dude standing over me. As we head out, Ellie or Sophie notice that a lot of people are “coding”, which is what they call dying in the hospital. Something scratches at my brain, but I figure, bad luck for them, good luck for me.

We hunker down with the Loyalists in their secret nerd-bunker, and I decide to take up Maximilian “Max” Fleischer on his offer. Tom is back with us, and I know Sophie isn’t a huge Loyalist fan, but so what? You just gotta know how to deal with these people, is all. They hear threats like pretty much everybody else.

There’s this whole big ceremony, and I reminds me of the white-power rallies they still sometimes have in our neck of the woods, but a lot less angry. Hitler was a piece of shit, but these guys are alright.

We get it into our heads to go monster-hunting, and I figure that since the last monster we fought looked like a bat, we should go to find where bats hang out. Logical, right? So we head out to Red Gate Woods, where there’s this bat-cave. We sneak in, and I shit you not, Mr. Bat-Monster is right there, talking about Lillith or somesuch.

We get all lined up, and I figure it’s my turn to kick things off as usual, so I run in and chop him near in half.

First bad thing is that he heals right up. That’s not good at all.

Second bad thing is I look around at all the other cultists down here in this cave, and they all have fangs.

Things look real bad for us, so I do the desperate thing: I let Sophia talk. She seems to want to join the monster-cult of Lillith, but whatever, she talks our asses out of there, and I’m thankful for that.

Once we’re out, I call in a hit-squad from the Loyalists, and the blow up the cave to collapse it on the vampires.

My gut says the bat-monster is still out there, but I bet some of those cultist-vampires won’t be coming out any time soon.

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Session 5: Mikkelson the Second

Hearing a whole lot of air rush by, and my stomach drop down into my pants; smashing through a ceiling, then another, holding on to a handful of European hair and the handle of my Bowie knife, my life flashes through my mind.

I’m seven, expelled from school for stabbing a bully with a number 2 pencil.

I’m twelve, stealing my first car.

I’m fifteen, naked with Jeanine after the Homecoming dance because her parents are the cool kind, who go to Europe on Homecoming night, and leave the liquor cabinet stocked. Jeanine went on to get herpies, or some shit, and then went away to college to be a veterinarian. You go, Jeanine.

It’s been a hell of a couple days. We bump into this pedo-looking school principal, complete with Richard Simmons short shorts in fucking December – says a teacher didn’t come out of the museum with the rest of the class. So we go all investigator, because yeah, Beelzebub. We find a wrecked room, a wrecked teacher, and some inky black nasty stuff leading up to the roof in a trail. We head up there and find a big stain, where whatever it was took off.

We head back to the motel, and I grab some cheap whiskey (I think the shit was Canadian) and plastic cups, and we do that thang. Tom gets a lampshade on his head, and…

Oh fuck. I think I fucked Sophia.

Goddamn cheap whiskey, did it again.

Anyway, I wake up in the shower, cold as it’ll be in Hell the next time I fuck Sophia, and we’re off to the Loyalists to trade some inky black stuff for info. That past night a serial killer exsanguinated a bunch of people at the bar where what’s-his-name, Leon was.

We get there and Max has his sniper and his table, and I have no idea how things went south again, but Sophia can be a bitch sometimes. (Don’t I know it) But guns come out and I flip a table, and fuck me if I have to be the one to talk things down. We trade the inky black stuff for info, and we’re off after Leon, or whatever vamp decided to drain a bunch of people.

Max takes me aside, and seems to want me to hook up with them. I gotta think about that. I love the 8s, they’re my brothers, but they also aren’t going to be a ton of help fighting vampires and werewolves and Beelzebub and whatever the Hell else crawls up out of Hell to bite us in the collective ass.

We track down Leon, after terrorizing a nice Italian family, and have to ask him a little hard, but he gives up the goods. Ellie says he’s straight with us, and he gives us a lead. Back at the club, we see Eurotrash the Second hanging out with that predatory look people have during the first half of To Catch A Predator.

Things went the way they tend to go with us, with screaming and shooting and a mob and some eyeballs torn out – this guy is a lot tougher than his cousin Mikkelson, or do they all look like Nordic Eurotrash?

Anyway, I stick a knife in him, and he pops some bat wings and flies away.

I hold on, because fuck him.

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Session 4: Beelzebust

Greg Mikkelsen turned to ash and Maxine Levy didn’t turn to anything at all, and that was that. I pulled my axe out of Mikkelson’s skull, and sat down for a breather.

Sophie dug through his pockets and found this creepy-looking coin. Not one to keep secrets, I think she posted it to some blog of hers then and there.

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It had kind of a creepy feel to it, and she went all ape-shit, and that was the last I saw of it for a while. But something about it pissed off her ex-husband Reginald Howard who, it turns out, is kind of a douchebag, and is also Sophia’s fucking kryptonite. He called, or she did, or some shit, and they just go at it. It’s kind of hilarious, and then you just feel bad, and lastly, annoying as fuck.

Then the fucker steals the coin. Because, you know, asking is for chumps.

But, anyway, we end up at Raymond’s office.

He’s a professor, of course. I’m not actually clear on why we were there – I stuck with Tom, but went into Reggie’s office, and I could tell I’d have to strong-arm him.

That completely failed.

Something happened out in the hallway – there was a gunshot. I made a jackass (heh, Jack, I just noticed that) of myself, and when I got my shit together I could see that Tom shot some security-looking guy. Then Sophie threatened Reggie’s personal assistant, who just freaked out. Then Tom punched the guy in the face, and I think he might have died. I’m not sure cause Tom and I GTFO. We passed the cops on the way out.

Somehow Sophie and Ellie talked their way out of the shit, and then tracked info about the coin down to a museum in Chicago. It was part of some display or whatever, so we roll up to Chicago and go into the museum.

Weird shit starts. We get the coin, but there’s this special display they’ve set up for it. There’s a fake coin but we get the real one. And we’re going back and forth about what to do with it, and shit just gets crazy, and then a clear moment comes, and I realize – of course! The coin goes in the thing. It just fits there. So in it goes.

And then Sophie knocks it over – she wants her coin real bad, and is pissed at Reggie, and gets how she gets – and then it all goes south. Like an earthquake, and some creepy stuff happens, and everybody freaks.

Later we find out, I shit you not, that the coin was like a prison for this demon called Beelzebub. And now Beelzebub is out.

It all would have gone a lot better if Reggie wasn’t such a douchebag, but there you go. Fucking ivory tower, man. Does something to you.

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Session 3: Getting dowm to business

: from the notes of Thomas F. Oollery private detective Jonesboro:

Day 3 of the Watkins/ Mikklesen case. The dream came again, through a cramped dark hole I crawled then another I was shone caskets. A man arises from one, he wears a leather jacket a face with European features. I awake to see Sandra despondent head against the window. realizing i need to meet the others from the previous night at the woods i entrust her to an ambulance called in by Amanda.

I hoof it to IHOP the Head Dr. is in attendance with the Teacher by the looks of it they’ve been here awhile (not accustomed to night work). Jack arrives when I do (definitely accustomed). We share our findings with each other over the unusual case. They seem to all agree there is something magical about the deaths and shady figure Mikklesen. They loose me in conversation after cellular telephones come out, Mr Young may be able to explain at a later time if i bring him sustenance or soda pop.

We track MIkkelsen to a suburban type setting a house. outside a few low lives that Jack seemed to take unawares and bash unconscious. Entering through the garage we discover a mass of drugs known as Red Phosphorous and uncover a door hidden behind a cabinet We agree to convene the following day after we all gather more information and evidence. Later that day I hit the streets known to house less savory types of the populace and persuade a pusher to let me in on a tip. Mikklesen uses an old warehouse across town.

Day 4 Watkins/ MIkklesen case. The dream tells me MIkkleson’s on to us. We meet again in the morning to discuss findings again they are convinced of magic stuff being involved movie monsters and such I vaguely recall from youth. I fill them in on the warehouse and then we talk strategy.

We arm ourselves accordingly Jack makes up some special silver rounds while I help myself to a few pocket pies followed up by krimpets. Mmmm.

Later: At the warehouse we confronted Mickkleson and his number 2. I fall short taking a few quick shots while most of the action is handled by Jack and Sofia, while Ellie took care of most of the crowd control with bear mace.

Conclusion: after accounting for the amount of damage absorbed by Mikkleson and Levy I must admit that there seems to be much involved that as yet I have not been aware or willing to accept

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Session 2: You're Next, Eurotrash

It took some ass-whipping to send the junkies packing, but we got it done no problem. Lucas Got a little heated and let fly with some lead, and we had to deal with that pronto. Dragged the junkie back behind the house, figuring somebody would call the cops, and buried him under some lime. Don’t need any dogs digging up junkie-bones and getting all the neighbors upset. Officer Friendly came around, but he got what they usually get.

There was a thumping coming from the Box back inside, and it turns out it was Fred, awake from nap-time. I got the green light from Lucas to bring him downstairs and get at what’s really going on with this Mikkelson dude, the zombie-junkies, the red meth, all that shit. We had a nice conversation, and Fred figured it was a better call to be open up and be honest. I was fine with asking him harder, but Fred knew to believe the hype and fess up.

Always the best policy when chained to a chair in a basement.

So turns out this Mikkelson dude is some kind of vampire. Yeah, no, seriously. He feeds people his blood and shit like that, and mixes it with the meth he makes – explains the color. And it seems like people want this blood, and after they drink it, they hear him talking to them.

Now, one guy saying this in a basement would be one thing, but it came together with other weird shit we were hearing, and some weird shit we’d seen, and I’ll be honest. I buy it – vampires, blood-meth, flying, all that shit. That’s some Hume, right? Anyway, vampires. Fuckin’ a’. Especially after the next shit we saw.

So Sonny and I tear out of there sorta looking for trouble. Like usual, but maybe now it’s vampire trouble. I don’t think we were sure then, but we’d get our proof.

We end up out on the road to Pawnee when we see some reds-and-blues up ahead. We park and sneak up to the lights, and overhear some crazy shit. People shot and getting back up, a cop tied up in the back of the cop car, some messed up girl and our old friends the Private Dick and Indiana Jane. Indiana Jane had it in for me, but I squeaked by on my charm. Gotta remember the second gun, though.

This is when a corpse gets up off the ground and comes for us. Bullets only do so much, and somebody says something about cutting of the head. I’ve got a Bowie knife, so I do the honors, and that definitely seems like the off-button to me. I go over and do the same to the cop, but I remember about Mikkelson talking in people’s heads, and someone says about maybe he can see through their eyes. So I look into the cop’s eyes as I sever his spine.

“I’m coming for you.”

I thought that was some legit’ Die Hard shit right there. Made me all warm and fuzzy, and I figure, he knows anyway, so might as well let him know I’ve got teeth too.

We decided on a breakfast meeting, so I’ll have to be up before noon I guess. On the way back to town, we stop by the Wal-Mart. Sonny gets a hunting rifle on me, and I grab one of those big fuck-off fire axes.

I like the weight of it.

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