"THE TOOLS OF THE TRADE"
Joe had the van fully loaded with everything he needed. He started the van and drove north this time away from his base of operations. He had remembered to pack three or four rolls of Duct Tape. That shit came in handy, especially when the marks were a lot stronger than they looked. He had his tape, handcuffs, rope, ball-peen hammer, heavy gloves, leather apron, utility knife and taser. The handcuffs and rope were unreliable. The other night he picked one up in the park and she was so small, greasy and wiry that it didn't matter how tight he made the knots or the cuffs, she was still able to get her hands and legs free, luckily, he had the ballpeen hammer nearby and was able to knock her senseless before she could get away.
Joe signaled and turned right. He obeyed traffic laws religiously because he didn't want to call attention to himself. He cruised past a senior citizen home. Harmony Gardens they called it. Joe thought that was a silly name but he knew that a name like Harmony Gardens would attract a richer clientele, usually those places held droves of those he hunted. He trolled places like senior citizen homes, schools and playgrounds. He didn't want to limit his options and over the years he started to develop a kind of feeling of where they could be found. A hunter's sense. The older marks, they were shrewd and knew what they were and what they were capable of doing. They couldn't move as fast as the younger ones though. The youngsters operated on sheer panic and adrenaline, not knowing yet what they were or what they could do. When he jumps out of his van with the windows tinted and he wears his hard hat with a welder's mask pulled over his face, leather apron, heavy gloves and taser-- he makes a terrible sight, invoking fear, but hey, it was a job to do.
He had only lost one of each, elder and youth. The elderly one had some how disappeared into some hedges and he could not find her, even after poking through the hedges with his utility knife. The branches tore into his hands and he left a lot of DNA evidence. That was when he started to wear the heavy gloves. Oh, and that young one, she was a handful. Most of the youngsters are pretty much powerless, but there was always an exception to the rule. Recognizing this fact, his experience and his ability to adapt quickly usually gave him an edge. This exception of the rule was youngest by far that he had ever taken up to that point. She was playing with her doll in an empty playground. He recognized her type, very imaginative, red-head, haughty, a woman's pouty lips and a beauty mark on her cheek. The beauty mark was a dead give away. When Joe cornered her and cut her clothes off he looked for other discerning marks, a quick glance really. When he got her back to base and had her all trussed up, well, then, he figured he would be able to take a good long look. But, this one, she didn't cower. She spat at him. Right away, he realized she was a lot more powerful than he anticipated. She was like a corned rat, all teeth and claws going for his eyes, balls and face. With her nails, she had managed to gouge deep scratches in his chest through his t-shirt almost puncturing his rib cage. He had backhanded her a good one too, this was before he started using a taser and just tried to dominate them physically with his size. He liked that way better. But, Cardinal Sanchez had warned him during his training not to underestimate the target. And Sanchez had been right because Joe could not overpower this little redhead. She hit him with everything, beating him up the way a man twice his size might. She must have learned to tap her powers at an earlier age than usual. Sanchez warned him that even the purifying ritual where he stripped naked and cleansed himself with fire, water, scripture and flagellation might not be a deterrent to their powers to tempt, seduce and damn. He tried to smother her with his body, her gyrations were worms of intoxication that ate into his brain. As she moved beneath him he held tightly to his cross and rosary and prayed so hard that his palms and ankles bled. The red headed girl humbled him and broke through his defenses against temptation. He had been so young then too. His flesh had been weak. Afterwards, as he lay broken and bloody, police sirens sounded and echoed around the city, the red head girl, like a naked demon monkey leaped into the tops and rigging of the playground equipment, made an impossible jump and vanished into a tenth floor window of a condemned building across the street. The doll, seemingly left behind as if accidental became animated, climbed his leg, open it's mouth, teeth all filed down to a point and took a small bite out of Joe's cheek. It then vanished in a puff of smoke that smelled like rotten eggs.
Eight years later, Joe rubbed the scar on his cheek. He resisted temptation, well, most of the time. He was a smarter and more careful and with his experience he found that a successful hunt depended upon the proper tools of the trade, not underestimating the hunted and prayer.
Outside of Harmony Gardens he spotted his quarry, she was alone, outdoors in one of those smoking pavilions. He approached her from her blind side and out of the line of sight of the main building. He took her down with no problem or fuss and best yet, with no witnesses. He picked her up from the ground and slung her over his shoulder and carried her to his van. He checked her for a pulse. His mentors would be pissed if he brought in a dead one. Joe opened the van and pulled her inside. It was dark because he had removed the tiny light bulb from the dome light a long time ago. With practiced ease he could pull the van door shut with his feet and grab a roll of duct tape and wrap his mark from head to toe with the duct tape without needing to see. Leaving the nose and eyes uncovered he deposited the elder mark next to the four smaller and younger ones he capture earlier in the evening at the mall.
Joe started the van and got back out to switch the license plates to the official plates of the Millennium-Catholic Church. He only hunted witches, he didn't torture them, although, Cardinal Sanchez said eventually his training as inquisitor might involve the art of torture too. Cardinal Sanchez also said that the NEO-Vatican had started to acquire so much information and evidence that proves existence of Satan And, Cardinal Sanchez explained how Satan chooses certain women the day they're born to be his brides. A tradition that goes all the way back to the beginning of man with Lilith and Eve. An order of brides, Cardinal Sanchez said, that are true witches, supernatural beings that are human and demon.
More human than demon, Joe thought. But the evidence was overwhelming, witches were everywhere again and evil is real. Cardinal Sanchez said the Spanish Inquisition and its inquisitors were going public again, soon.
Until, then, Joe thought, I'll just keep on hunting witches, quietly in the shadows, bring them back to base and let God sort them out.
Sent from my iPhone
Joe had the van fully loaded with everything he needed. He started the van and drove north this time away from his base of operations. He had remembered to pack three or four rolls of Duct Tape. That shit came in handy, especially when the marks were a lot stronger than they looked. He had his tape, handcuffs, rope, ball-peen hammer, heavy gloves, leather apron, utility knife and taser. The handcuffs and rope were unreliable. The other night he picked one up in the park and she was so small, greasy and wiry that it didn't matter how tight he made the knots or the cuffs, she was still able to get her hands and legs free, luckily, he had the ballpeen hammer nearby and was able to knock her senseless before she could get away.
Joe signaled and turned right. He obeyed traffic laws religiously because he didn't want to call attention to himself. He cruised past a senior citizen home. Harmony Gardens they called it. Joe thought that was a silly name but he knew that a name like Harmony Gardens would attract a richer clientele, usually those places held droves of those he hunted. He trolled places like senior citizen homes, schools and playgrounds. He didn't want to limit his options and over the years he started to develop a kind of feeling of where they could be found. A hunter's sense. The older marks, they were shrewd and knew what they were and what they were capable of doing. They couldn't move as fast as the younger ones though. The youngsters operated on sheer panic and adrenaline, not knowing yet what they were or what they could do. When he jumps out of his van with the windows tinted and he wears his hard hat with a welder's mask pulled over his face, leather apron, heavy gloves and taser-- he makes a terrible sight, invoking fear, but hey, it was a job to do.
He had only lost one of each, elder and youth. The elderly one had some how disappeared into some hedges and he could not find her, even after poking through the hedges with his utility knife. The branches tore into his hands and he left a lot of DNA evidence. That was when he started to wear the heavy gloves. Oh, and that young one, she was a handful. Most of the youngsters are pretty much powerless, but there was always an exception to the rule. Recognizing this fact, his experience and his ability to adapt quickly usually gave him an edge. This exception of the rule was youngest by far that he had ever taken up to that point. She was playing with her doll in an empty playground. He recognized her type, very imaginative, red-head, haughty, a woman's pouty lips and a beauty mark on her cheek. The beauty mark was a dead give away. When Joe cornered her and cut her clothes off he looked for other discerning marks, a quick glance really. When he got her back to base and had her all trussed up, well, then, he figured he would be able to take a good long look. But, this one, she didn't cower. She spat at him. Right away, he realized she was a lot more powerful than he anticipated. She was like a corned rat, all teeth and claws going for his eyes, balls and face. With her nails, she had managed to gouge deep scratches in his chest through his t-shirt almost puncturing his rib cage. He had backhanded her a good one too, this was before he started using a taser and just tried to dominate them physically with his size. He liked that way better. But, Cardinal Sanchez had warned him during his training not to underestimate the target. And Sanchez had been right because Joe could not overpower this little redhead. She hit him with everything, beating him up the way a man twice his size might. She must have learned to tap her powers at an earlier age than usual. Sanchez warned him that even the purifying ritual where he stripped naked and cleansed himself with fire, water, scripture and flagellation might not be a deterrent to their powers to tempt, seduce and damn. He tried to smother her with his body, her gyrations were worms of intoxication that ate into his brain. As she moved beneath him he held tightly to his cross and rosary and prayed so hard that his palms and ankles bled. The red headed girl humbled him and broke through his defenses against temptation. He had been so young then too. His flesh had been weak. Afterwards, as he lay broken and bloody, police sirens sounded and echoed around the city, the red head girl, like a naked demon monkey leaped into the tops and rigging of the playground equipment, made an impossible jump and vanished into a tenth floor window of a condemned building across the street. The doll, seemingly left behind as if accidental became animated, climbed his leg, open it's mouth, teeth all filed down to a point and took a small bite out of Joe's cheek. It then vanished in a puff of smoke that smelled like rotten eggs.
Eight years later, Joe rubbed the scar on his cheek. He resisted temptation, well, most of the time. He was a smarter and more careful and with his experience he found that a successful hunt depended upon the proper tools of the trade, not underestimating the hunted and prayer.
Outside of Harmony Gardens he spotted his quarry, she was alone, outdoors in one of those smoking pavilions. He approached her from her blind side and out of the line of sight of the main building. He took her down with no problem or fuss and best yet, with no witnesses. He picked her up from the ground and slung her over his shoulder and carried her to his van. He checked her for a pulse. His mentors would be pissed if he brought in a dead one. Joe opened the van and pulled her inside. It was dark because he had removed the tiny light bulb from the dome light a long time ago. With practiced ease he could pull the van door shut with his feet and grab a roll of duct tape and wrap his mark from head to toe with the duct tape without needing to see. Leaving the nose and eyes uncovered he deposited the elder mark next to the four smaller and younger ones he capture earlier in the evening at the mall.
Joe started the van and got back out to switch the license plates to the official plates of the Millennium-Catholic Church. He only hunted witches, he didn't torture them, although, Cardinal Sanchez said eventually his training as inquisitor might involve the art of torture too. Cardinal Sanchez also said that the NEO-Vatican had started to acquire so much information and evidence that proves existence of Satan And, Cardinal Sanchez explained how Satan chooses certain women the day they're born to be his brides. A tradition that goes all the way back to the beginning of man with Lilith and Eve. An order of brides, Cardinal Sanchez said, that are true witches, supernatural beings that are human and demon.
More human than demon, Joe thought. But the evidence was overwhelming, witches were everywhere again and evil is real. Cardinal Sanchez said the Spanish Inquisition and its inquisitors were going public again, soon.
Until, then, Joe thought, I'll just keep on hunting witches, quietly in the shadows, bring them back to base and let God sort them out.
Sent from my iPhone
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