When Things Get Out of Hand

What does it mean to be a hero? It vexes me to no end. Is it the things you do or the way you accomplish them? Or is it just the fact that you tried and had the idea? Or is being a hero just a forgotten idea, a fairytale told to kids to make them believe that it’s possible to do some good in the world? I ask myself this a lot of times and I never seem to get the frickin answer. Hell, I know it seems like I’m brooding for no reason but what else can I do on a night like this? What with the ominous looking sky and clouds, the downpour of rain, the lightning streaking across the sky, and the peal of thunder that rumbles right after it. It put me on edge and I double checked my holstered weapon. Paranoid? Maybe, but in my line of work, you tend not to live very long if you aren’t.

It is February 27, 2010, 9:00 P.M. I am a 29 year old man that is tired, hungry, and all around disgruntled right now. Normally I am in a chipper mood but lack of sleep, food, and other discomfort, strangely, takes that away. I am on 80th street, N.Y.C. surrounded by EMTs, cops, and a mess of body parts, blood, and torn items of clothing. What have drug cartels/terrorists done this time? Absolutely nothing. It takes something a bit more dangerous, deceptive, and……well, evil to cause this kind of mass death. That’s where I come in.

I am a Hunter, with a capital “H”. What is a “Hunter” you may ask. Well, they are the law enforcement backbone of the Council of Rome, or just the Council. They have been around for over three thousand years and they maintain order between beings. Call it the NATO or U.N. of the supernatural world. Yes, you heard me right. S-u-p-e-r-n-a-t-u-r-a-l. You vanilla mortals aren’t the only things living on this world we call home. All those stories you hear about. We aren’t here to get involved with human politics or wars (All though sometimes it is unavoidable).

Now, not all of these beings are bad. Some of them are actually pretty cool and fun to hang out with. I just go after the ones that don’t follow the Treaty of Rome, which basically brought about the council. After the near annihilation of the world due to some whack job, leading a bunch of other whack jobs, wanting to “cleanse the earth of its impurities”, the many different beings of the world came together and made up a set of rules by which they would all have to abide by. To make sure these rules were followed and to bring down punishment on those who didn’t, the Council was created. To maintain certain diversity as well as create a bond of trust between these beings, the Council would have members from every single background and being. All these beings include, but aren’t limited to: Vampires, Werewolves, Ogres, Trolls, Wizards, Witches, Ghouls, and a lot, and I mean a lot, more.

And so, we come to today. The Council, now an effective world-wide force helps maintain a semblance of normality for the mortals and unity for everybody else. The reality of it is, that it’s not as perfect as it seems. Some beings just have grudges that they can’t let go of. So, we have to somehow have them coexist with each other or risk civil war and the heads of the Council are to busy with there heads up their asses to do anything about it. Ahh, hell, that’s not fair of me. There are a few good elders that aren’t complete sanctimonious pricks. Some of them actually did some good and tried there best.

My name? Well, my name is Johnathan David Riley. Some people call me John. Close friends sometimes call me Davy, after my namesake. I work the New York branch of our worldwide operation. A little disappointing, I know. You were probably expecting a whole lot more. Or most of you are probably still wondering if any of this true.

As I looked around at the carnage, I took a quick breath. The smell of fresh blood flooded my senses and an area of my mind began screaming. I kept a straight face and put that sensation as well as the screaming voice in a box and shut it tight. Hells bells, get a hold of yourself John! I walked over to a familiar looking officer.

“You…..joy” he said with sarcasm and just the tiniest bit of disdain in his voice.

“You’re no basket full of roses either, Eddie” I replied. Sgt. Eddie Kramer was a portly fellow in his early forties, about 6 feet in height. Yet, I knew he could sprint 3 blocks and still have more then enough breath left in him to take down a criminal and read him his rights. He had brown hair, that was slowly receding, which was hidden by his Holmes-like hat and he wore a brown trench coat under which he had a casual suit. “What the hell happened here?”

“This much dismemberment and death? I would say that an explosion had done it, but there are no blast patterns. A drug cartel that wanted to send out a message, maybe.”

“You mind if I take a look around?” I asked. He turned towards the scene and back at me.

“Did the Lieutenant give you permission?” he asked. Crap. I really hoped Jones wouldn’t mind it. I nodded. “Why not? Forensics is done and the ambulances are going to take a while to get here. Just don’t touch anything.”

“Of course, of course, don’t worry about it.” I said ducking under the yellow tape. I moved around with exaggerated slowness, taking in every detail. The screaming tried to break out of the box I had put it in and I took a moment to steady myself. I reached into my pocket to take out a handkerchief and put it to my mouth. I muttered a few words into it and I could feel a guitar-like twang of energy flow into it. I pretended to accidentally drop it, and as I reached for it, I poured some of my will into it to activate the spell. Under it, hopefully unnoticed by anybody, had been an eyeball. While useful in the body and revolting outside of it, it provided a window to see what had happened and I watched the whole scene play out on the delicate surface of the handkerchief.

The eye had belonged to a man who seemed to have just gotten out of the office where he worked, considering the brief glimpses I got of the suit he was wearing. He was walking down the street when he turned to see a man running in the middle of the road. This man looked crazed and frantic. He was constantly turning around to look behind and around him. About the fifth time he looked back, his eyes widened and he let out an animal-like scream. He tried to speed-up but before he could take another step, a dark shape darted into view and tackled the man. Two more came and all three of them proceeded to tear him to pieces. I tried to get a clearer look at them but the man was already turning around. The man turned and looked into the face of a vampire, short by comparison but terrifying all the same. An arm blurred forward and the man looked down, holding his throat. Blood ran down his hand and he collapsed, his eyes focusing on the face of the mafia-looking vampire. I quickly cut the spell and lifted the hanky, walking to the tape again. I had seen enough.

Now I knew the perpetrators of this crime. Vampires. Hells bells, this was going to get ugly. You see, vampires are….predators. That’s the best way to describe them. They are made to lure their prey, subdue them, and suck the life’s blood out of them. Most of them aren’t this barbaric though. They think it below them, like some Middle Age noble talking about doing hard labor. But others don’t care how they got the blood, so long as they got it. Their bloodlust was well known and they weren’t well liked, except by the dredges and malcontents of the supernatural society. Now I just needed to know who these vampires were. Cue light bulb above my head. No such light bulb appeared and I was without an idea.

“I have got to start getting reliable props that respond to their cues.” I muttered.

“What?” Eddie asked, giving me a weird look

“Uh, just talking to myself, Ed. I got nothing on what happened. Good luck apprehending the guy.”

“Whatever, Riley. Just go on your merry little way and stay out of mine.”

“Why Ed! I didn’t think it was possible for you to be merry!” I replied walking away. I went to my car and got in, contemplating what to do next. That’s when a bum came shambling over to he driver’s side of the car. He tapped on the window and I tried to turn him away, pulling out the inside of my pockets. I felt bad, but hell, I didn’t have money with me. He slammed his palm on the window and I saw that it was black and had claws. I, very calmly I might add, lowered the glass.

“Are you Riley?” It asked in a raspy voice.

“Maybe, who’s asking?” I replied in what I hoped wasn’t a high-pitched voice.

“I was told to give you some information, courtesy of the Genovese family.” It said and threw in a folded piece of paper. I was still in shock about what he said that all I managed was a grunt. It shambled away and disappeared into a dark alley. You’re going into the badlands, John. Be careful about who you owe debts to, my mind warned me. I should really start listening to it. You see, the Genovese family is an old-school mafia family that was big in New York and the East Coast. They were (and still are) considered the most powerful of the mafia families, which really didn‘t do my paranoia any good. Even though most of their higher echelon was in prison, there was probably a leader in background, hidden from the spotlight. Owing them a favor was not something I really wanted to do but I needed the information quickly. Ahh, I can burn that bridge when I get to it. I opened the slip of paper and on it was written: The Hilton hotel, 1332 6th Avenue, Ballroom. 9pm. Dress nicely. You owe us. Great, they had me and what’s more, they knew they did.

I sighed as I started the car and pulled out. I drove over to a nearby tuxedo rental place and was in the process of a haggling the price of a one night rental, when I got a call. It was from Rose, a colleague of mine that occasionally helped me with cases.

“Hey John, did you find out anything on that case you’ve been working on?” She asked.

“Umm yeah, actually. How come?”

“The Council wants me to assist you with this one. Do you mind?”

“No, no. Of course not. Would you happen to have a dress?”

“Sure, why?”

“We’ve got a ball to get to before midnight, Cinderella.” I replied chuckling to myself.

“Right, where at?” she replied, totally ignoring my quip.

“The Hilton.”

“Jesus…..this is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

“Not nessacerily. We might just be able to get them to talk and have a calm and polite negotiation.”

She scoffed at me and said she’d meet me at my apartment. I finally managed to get the guy to give me the tuxedo for around a hundred bucks. Still high priced but at least I wouldn’t be totally broke after this. I got dressed in one of his handy changing rooms and drove to my place. I was parking the car and, as if by magic, Rose appeared at the window, giving me a start.

“Almost gave me a heart attack there, Rose.” I said as she got in. As I drove towards the Hilton, “Highway to Hell” began playing over the radio. I really hope that it was just a coincidence. I really, really do…