Leon BrentwoodI go by
anyone hot with a pulse -- and a soul -- is greatI am a
give those miserable, inhuman freaks a working demonstration of the term 'genocide.'You want to know about me? Well
, I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better first, but why not? I'm 26 years old, I like all kinds of music, I can't drink worth a damn and I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy rock climbing and surfing every once in a while, I'm a pretty good cook, and I love Jackie Chan movies. Oh yeah, and I like to hunt monsters in my spare time. Still interested, baby?
See, when I was a kid, I lived with my Uncle Dean. When I got a little older, I worked in the local supermarket he owned. One night after closing, the two of us were staying late to finish emptying the registers and sweeping up, same as most nights, when I heard the old man scream in his office. I thought he was having a heart attack or something, so I ran to the office to call 911.
When I got there, I saw this...thing
, pinning him against the wall with its teeth buried in his throat. The creature ripped its jaws away and tore his throat out as it turned to stare at me, hunger and hell-fire in its eyes. It was tall and its skin was dark, mottled and wet, slick with blood and God only knew what else, with patches of fur and scales everywhere. Its ears were mismatched and pointed, and I couldn't tell if it was male or female. Of course, at the time, I didn't give a damn. It was like someone had tried to design a nightmare beast but couldn't decide which parts would be scariest. Behind it, Dean slid down the wall and collapsed on the floor, his jagged jugular spurting gouts of blood onto the carpet. I watched in horror as the light died from his eyes, and the monster laughed in my face, a sick, gurgling sound that I'm certain I'll take to my own grave.
"You're lucky I prefer my meals with a little age on them, you little juicebag...but now that I've had a taste, maybe you'll be seeing me again in a few years," it said, its voice high-pitched and raspy, like a brass bell being dragged down a gravel road. It laughed again and slapped me aside with one arm. I was sent flying across the room and slammed my shoulder into the wall; when I came to, Uncle Dean was dead, and the monster was gone.
The cops were no help; Dean's murder went on the books as an extortion scam by one of the local gangs gone bad. I got put in foster, and was placed with an old woman who was pretty good to me. I graduated high school, went to college on a boxing scholarship and majored in accounting. None of it made the nightmares go away. But I sleep a whole lot better when I've killed something that shouldn't be living.
I got introduced to slaying by a girl I met at college, Aimee Lynn Riley. There was this party one night, and I saw this guy checking her out. Something about the guy creeped me out, and yeah, maybe it makes me sound like a creep myself, but when I saw her leave the house and him following behind, I decided to follow along too. I caught up to them just in time to watch him collapse into a pile of dust as she rammed a stake through his heart. When she realized I was there she spun around, stake at the ready. I'm certain she would have killed me, even though I was human, just to keep me from talking, but...there was this look
we shared, like we were the only two people on earth who could understand each other. She took me to an all-night diner and we talked until dawn about the monsters that were out there, and how to kill them.
So now, my days are pretty dull. I'm on payroll for an architecture firm in town, keeping the owners from finding out they're financing not only their buildings but my rather exotic nightlife. My evenings are a lot more fun, though. Well, for me, anyway. For the subhuman things that cross my path, my evenings are just blood and fire. Mostly theirs.Weapon of Choice is
anything handy, but I'm particularly partial to this pair of custom-crafted .45s with silver and ashwood-inlaid grips; they're usually loaded with hollow-point rounds packed with a small mixture of salt, silver nitrate and oak splinters in the tips. Oh, and pretty much anything that goes "BOOOM!!"
in a spectacular and violent fashion is on my holiday wish-list, too.I can
walk around in sunlight, enjoy garlic bread pizza, cross over running water and step on consecrated ground, use genuine silverware and not lose my damn mind just because the moon looks pretty. And I can make things dead in really creative and unusual ways.My infatuation
...well actually, I'm sort of married to my work. I know, I know; it's not healthy, especially in this business. But the occasional one-night stand or torrid affair is always enjoyable.