@ellowrites Alright. I was asked for an expert. This is rough, I'm going to give you the first chapter of the novel I'm currently working on. It's long, and pretty unedited but I love the idea.
My name is Frank Book, and I am a hunter. I am also what modern culture would call gritty, which means you will find that I pull no punches. I am as close to being able to completely admit my faults as anyone. The world is going to hell, and that is most often the fault of the things that I hunt. I hunt down and kill the supernatural menaces that plague the world that man resides in. He lives in this world, blissfully unaware that walking in the shadows are creatures higher than him on the food chain, and lower than him on the path to hell that wish to devour and destroy him; him and all of his fellows, or at least their souls. These are the things that I and a small number of men and women that share my calling stalk and eliminate. We cannot win. Let me get that out of the way right up front. Our membership is elite but limited, and the servants of darkness are legion. Victory is impossible, but sometimes the fight is all that matters. You have to go down swinging.
It is by unspoken consensus we to not advertise to humans those things that live in the twilight. I do not actively agree with this decision, but there are rules that must be followed in any profession. It is not that we do not think that humans can accept or even adapt to this knowledge, the threat of understanding is different. The ideals that keep us from blowing the lid off of the conspiracy are twofold. The first is that most people are, while not happy, as happy as they can be. Imagine if you found out that monsters are not only real, but likely to rape, mutilate, or kill you at some point in your life; how likely would you be to just keep going to work making, selling, or supporting all the useless crap that most people spend their lives on? Not very likely, I know. So we only pull back the curtain for those few that are heading towards our path, or who need to be but never see it for themselves.
The second and more important reason is that there are idiots in the world that would side with the monsters. Think about that. In modern times we romanticize the most evil of things, we have all seen it. Fanciful tales of demons yearning for the pure and virtuous heart that they have been denied are the modern fairy tales. We tell stories of things that feed on humans lamenting the slow loss of a soul that they no longer truly possess. Thanks to authors, who as a whole have greater sense of flair than they do common sense; we have at least three generations of good folks that want to forgive the damn devil because “God didn’t love him enough as a child.” Yes, I actually heard some idiot say that. Think about that, how much harder my job would be if every housewife with a vampire fetish was jumping in front of my stakes any time I went to kill one of the evil sons of bitches. No thanks; you people can keep living in the dark. My work is hard enough, thank you.
So I should state up front that I am religious. I’m not that kind of god fearing man that is always going on about his lord and savior though. I’ll talk about it when it comes up, and tell the truth of it to those few hunters that I train. In order to do this job you have to have either a love of the almighty, a deep thirst for vengeance, or a chronic and incurable insanity. It doesn’t matter which of the three, but everyone doing the job has one or more. Me? I’ve probably got all three. I let out the secret about my faith because it is going to color the view people have of me, and the sooner that is out there, the sooner they can start getting over it. So get over it. That’s important rule one in the life of Brother Book. I love God, and yet I accept those that don’t believe in, even those that hate Him. It’s no skin off my ass where they go in the great hereafter; it’s during the right here and now that I have to protect them. People can even mock God in my presence and I’ll let it slide. The way I figure it He’s a big boy and can stick up for himself, or just take a joke and turn the other cheek; it’s when people get mocking about my relationship with the spiritual that they get one chance to apologize. Rule one is important, but rule two is more critical.
The second commandment in the gospel according to Frank is pretty simple. Most people can guess it from what I’ve already said. If it ain’t human, it’s evil; simple, pure, and to the point. If it’s evil I’ll probably kill it, but I’ve made exceptions. A man has to know when to pick his battles. That last one is probably rule three, but I have a hard enough time living by all the permutations of the rules I’ve got. No matter how simple they sound there’s a lot of grey area in such small things. Some of the guys on the job are nicer than me, that’s the only way to put it. They want to have faith that a vamp that is trying to eat only dog blood is a good person trying to redeem themselves, and get their soul back. Me, I’m pretty sure that soul is already downstairs having tea time with the devil’s henchmen. Probable got a cup of Earl Grey in one hand, a biscuit in the other, and pitchfork up its ass while it’s saying ain’t that comfy? I’ve got no use for ‘em. Now I might let those critters slide, because right now they’re doing no harm, but I promise you if I go to stake them they’re going to fight back. Why get killed over a dog that ain’t biting right now? Plenty of rabid mutts that need to be put down first, and I can get back to the sleeping ones later. I will get back to them though, if I’m still alive to do it. This job is not good for those with sympathy for the devil in their hearts. There are some things that fall into the category of kind of human, but I’ll get to that in a little bit. This first bit is supposed to be about who I am.
I don’t have a lot of friends. Don’t get me wrong, I have a small group of close associates, but only a handful of people I’d call friends. Beyond the associates I have a larger number of people I can call for back up. Further out are the people I can count on to give me information, talk me through my woes, and feed the cat if I had one. The funny thing about that is there is a large group of people that would call me their friend, and I guess I am that to them, they aren’t my friends though. In my line of work friends are people that can get taken hostage by the bad things that want to hurt or control you and it’s also easier if you’re not close to people when you know that most of them are going to die bloody. Enough people go out that way to begin with, around a hunter that percentage increases exponentially. Still, I try to be good to those people that think I’m their constant companion. I see no need for them to know the truth, all of that might explain why I’m not married.
That’s enough about me though. I’m sure I’ve missed certain key facts and it’s a pretty good bet that I’ve also misrepresented others. In that latter case I assure you that it has been unintentional. Like I said, I’m pretty good at assessing myself, but nobody’s perfect. Any such flaws and foibles will come out later in the telling of this tale I’m sure. You may be wondering why I’m writing this all down with the need for secrecy. If you’re wondering that then burn these pages. They aren’t for you. This is my legacy, a hunter’s guide if you will. The people I’ve trained are some of the best damn hunters in the business. A few of them are even better than me. I’m pretty sure I’ll get taken out soon. I’ve had too good a run, survived too much shit that should have killed me. So my luck is going to run out eventually and it is time to leave something behind for the coming generations. If you’re reading this and you know why you have it then someone wanted you trained to be the best hunter you can be. Read on apprentice, and know that I’m probably not breathing anymore. It’s your job to be a bad ass, to aspire to be almost as good as me. If you find that you’re better you’re wrong, until you live longer than I did, and kill enough evil that your mentor says, “Brother Book would be impressed.” If you hit that point then write your own damn book and get the pups trained up for war. Welcome to hunter school.