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 Monster Hunters

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Number of posts : 439
Age : 41
Location : Rocky Mountains
Registration date : 2008-07-23

PostSubject: Monster Hunters   Mon Oct 25, 2010 8:25 am

Okay, so I once made Max a board game that he loved called Monster Hunters where you go around a big complicated board collecting money, upgrading weapons, and fighting monsters -- ultimately trying to kill four powerful boss monsters.

Then he said I should name the pawns (like in Clue) so I did:

Max Boomer: Beat up the bogeyman as a toddler and has been hunting monsters ever since.
Vinnie Segali: Heir to the vast Segali Plumbing fortune, he quit working on pipes and became a paranormal investigator after two of his uncles mysteriously vanished.
Simone Abattoir: Born into a family of monster hunters, Simone has been trained from birth.
Agent Jane Doe: A former Area 51 operative who tired of staging hoaxes and distractions and joined Monster Hunters to see some real action.

Problem is, I'm an author (it's in the genes, I think), so as soon as I named them and gave those little sketches, I knew their whole personalities, backstories, etc...

So I decided to write it all down and give Max a book for his birthday. Here's the first four chapters of it. If I get a response, I'll post another.


Chapter 1 – Vinnie Segali

A plumber could make a fat living in Brooklyn, and that's what Lou always intended to do. “I'm going to make Segali Plumbing a household name,” he used to brag whenever he took out a new ad or pitched for a new contract.
Lou's 16-year-old nephew, Vinnie, had heard the brag a thousand times before, and couldn't stand it any longer. “Lou,” he said, “you're always saying that, that we're going to be a 'household name.' It doesn't make a lot of sense, you know? I mean, how's that really going to work? When's anybody going to use the name of a plumbing company in casual conversation?”
“Oh, you just wait, kid! People will be sayin' stuff like...” Lou rolled his eyes, thinking.
“Yeah?” Vinnie prodded.
“You know like... uh... 'blew threw that problem like Segali blows through clogged pipes!'”
“Oh, yeah, Uncle.” Vinnie laughed. “I can see the new logo now: Segali Plumbing! When it comes to pipes, Segali really blows!”
“Ah, forget it,” Lou sighed. “You'll see, we'll be famous.”
“Well, that's fine for you, Uncle Lou, but I don't want to be famous, I want to be rich, and that's where we're headed with these government contracts I've been working on. You know what this city spends fixing the sewers? I want a piece of that pie! We just need to prove we got the tools and skills, and we'll be set for life!”
“Yeah, a life of fortune and prestige in the sewers of New York,” Lou scoffed.
“Go ahead and laugh it up, Lou. Look at these figures I'm working up.” Vinnie plopped a sheet of paper in front of his uncle, who picked it up and looked at the bottom line. It had a lot of zeros in it.
“Whoa, mama!” Lou yelled. “That's almost twice what we make in a year now!”
“Yeah, and that's for a job that shouldn't take us more than three months,” Vinnie answered.
“What the heck they paying that much for?” Lou asked.
“Seems there have been some weird goings-on in that part of the municipal sewers the last few months,” Vinnie admitted as he took the paper back. “A couple of equipment breakdowns and accidents, some minor injuries, some things gone missing. It's spooked a lot of the contractors away from working there.”
“Yeah, it's kind of spooking me too,” Lou said as he took a more suspicious glance at the sheet of figures.
“Relax, Lou. It's just been a run of bad luck,” Vinnie assured him. “I've checked, and it all looks unrelated to me. There's nothing to be afraid of down there. We'll just be careful, and do everything right. You know what Grandpa always said, 'Safety is no accident.'”
“Okay,” Lou said at last. “But if anything weird happens, I'm out of there.”
“Oh, come on, Lou. You can't tell me my own uncle, the world famous Lou Segali, is afraid of monsters in the sewer!”

Chapter 2 – Max Boomer

Every kid is afraid of the thing under his bed. Or maybe there's something in your closet. Or maybe it's the thing that waits in the hall outside your door. It waited for you when you were a baby, just as it waited for your father when he was a baby – and your grandfather, and your great grandfather. It waits for all children, all over the world. It has different names in different countries, but here we call it “The Boogyman.”
Nobody knows what exactly a Boogyman is or where it comes from. That's part of what makes it scary; but all children know it is there waiting for them, and they all try to hide from it.
But one day, one boy broke all the rules.

When Baby Maxwell was two years old the Boogyman came to his room. It stole out of the shadows of imagination. It crept out of the fears of all the children in the world, and it crawled into Max' room.
Max was looking around his room for his favorite picture book when he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He looked, but there was nothing there. He went to get his favorite book, and felt something watching him: something cold; something inhuman; something evil. He could tell it was right there in his room: The Boogyman.
Normally, children hide from the Boogyman, or sometimes they run. Max ran, but not to get away. Instead, he grabbed his toy sword and stormed angrily back into his room.
Now, you must understand something about Boogymen. They want to scare you because fear makes them stronger. The more people are afraid of the Boogyman, and the more scared they get, the stronger it becomes. If you're not afraid of it, it isn't strong at all.
And Max was not afraid.
“Get out of here, monster!” Max yelled as he charged into his room. The Boogyman made a terrifying face at Max, revealing three rows of teeth sharper than pain and stronger than hatred. Max charged forward and smashed his plastic sword into the Boogyman's mouth. Three teeth flew across the room and shattered into dim memories against the wall. The Boogyman stared, bug-eyed, in amazement as Max brought is toy down again, this time bearing down on the goblin's head as Max screamed at the top of his lungs, “You got no biz-niz here!” The Boogyman raised its terrible, black claws a moment too late as the toy crushed it into the carpet.
The Boogyman looked up and tried to move as the toddler swung his sword again. With no fear to feed on, the Boogyman was as weak as straw and as light as a daydream. The blow sent it reeling through the air to smash against the bookshelf. It had no more effect on the books than a puff of breath.
It drifted to the ground confused, hurt, dizzy, clumsy, and scared. Scrambling towards the shadows under the bed, the Boogyman clawed at the carpet, desperate to escape. All the while Baby Maxwell smashed his play sword down on it, crushing its taloned legs, its shaggy hips, its twisted back.
“Get out!!” the toddler yelled as the Boogyman finally reached the dark under the bed and faded into shadows and imagination.
Maxwell's father, Chris appeared at the door. “Is everything all right here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Baby Maxwell, and he threw the sword in the corner and continued to look for his book.

Chapter 3 – Simone Abattoir

In a small Andorran hospital, a new-born baby was laid in the arms of her exhausted mother, Sophia. In the background, a radio clicked out a happy and emphatic tune while the nurses chattered in Catalan. Sophia spoke to her husband in his native French however.
“Michel, she is beautiful. Shall we call her Marguerite after your mother?” she asked.
“No. You liked the name Simone better, and now that I see her, I think it suits her,” he answered.
Within minutes, Michel's mother Marguerite entered the room. Her eyes were full of excitement, and a strange, wild curiosity.
“Michel, Sophia! How wonderful! How strong and healthy she looks! Michel, does she...”
Michel cut his mother off with a warning glance.
“Does she what?” Sophia asked.
“Nothing, my dear little cabbage,” Michel answered for her.
Marguerite hung her head and glanced apologetically at her son. When Michel left the room an hour later to get some food from the cafeteria, his mother followed him. “Well, does she?” she prodded.
Michel sighed. “Yes, mama. She does. But I hate to upset Sophia!”
“Michel, why be upset?” his mother asked. “The first Abattoir to bear the Mark in four generations? This is marvelous news!”
“She would not think so, mama.” he answered. “She thinks I am superstitious.”
“Oh, poo! She thinks our family legacy, our history, is superstition?”
“She does not believe in monsters. She thinks vampires are only in stories and dreams. She doesn't believe in demons or Slayers. She would think me mad.”
“But what of all our glorious ancestors?” Marguerite yelled. “What of Jean-Claude Abattoir, who saved the whole town of Ransol? What of Pierre Abattoir, the protector of all Ordina? What of...”
“She thinks we made it all up,” he interrupted.
“Why would she think that?” she demanded.
“Because it is not in the books,” he answered. “It is not in her histories. She says no credible source ever mentions vampires, werewolves, or ghosts – that these things are nothing but figments of the imagination.”
“And I am not credible?” his mother demanded.
“Not to her,” he answered sadly. “Her years of study at the University in Cordoba has made her skeptical of anything that isn't in the evening news. Mama, please don't mention the mark or the prophecy. I have told her very little about the Legacy, and truly, who sees vampires in this day and age? Perhaps the modern world has no need of the Abattoirs to keep it safe. Perhaps it is time we retired our mantle along with the Templars, and Inquisitors.”
“Simone must know who she is, Michel, whether Sophia likes it or not. Whether we like it or not.” Marguerite's voice was stern and insistent. “She is an Abattoir, and she is a chosen warrior.”
“She is a baby, Mama. Let us speak of this again in two years. She cannot begin the training before then, anyway.”
“That is true, but in two years time, she must learn.” Sophia's voice was now quiet and grave. “You know who you are, Michel, as do I. She must also.”

Chapter 4 – Jane Doe

Sergeant McKinley was bored. He was sure he had the most boring job on the base, and thought it might be the most boring job in the whole Air Force. He worked at Area 23, a classified weapons testing site, where a new weapon was being tested, the MX5330-3b aircraft mounted machine-gun, which was different from its predecessor, the MX5330-2e only in that the barrel was a half-inch longer and the triggering mechanism was made by a different company.
The sergeant's job was what the Colonel referred to as “internal security.” What this really meant was that it was McKinley's job to make sure that nobody was in the firing range when the test was conducted. The problem was that the whole base was protected by an electric fence, and was surrounded by a 3-mile no-fly zone. Nobody from outside the base could get in, and nobody inside the base would be stupid enough to go anywhere near the firing range while an experimental gun was being tested.
Still, protocols are protocols, and the rules said that someone had to go and visually inspect the testing ground before the test could be conducted. Despite what the rules said, Sergeant McKinley was tempted to just skip the whole routine and radio in that the field was empty, as he already knew it was; but, he knew that he could lose his job if he were caught avoiding it, so he drove off to check the site.
He grumbled to himself as he pulled his Jeep up alongside the rickety old watchtower. He wished he were doing something else, anything else, something that had some meaning or purpose. This was the most boring, pointless, stupid job in any army, he was sure. As he turned off the engine, the Jeep's noise faded away into the lonely silence of the Nevada desert morning. His boots crunched loudly on the gravel as he climbed out and took three steps over to the watchtower's ladder. Then a baby started crying.
McKinley jumped in the air and spun around trying to look in all directions. A baby? Why would there be a baby on a military testing ground? It had to be a trick.
The sound was coming from a basket hidden in a patch of shadow under the watchtower. It was covered by a small baby blanket so that he couldn't see what was in it. McKinley thought it was probably a prank by that new private Jameson. He was always up to something. He had probably put a sound recorder in a basket just to startle him.
The sergeant pulled a rifle out of the back of the Jeep and approached the basket very carefully, just in case it contained a nastier surprise than a CD player.
He slowly lifted one corner of the blanket with the muzzle of his gun to reveal a beautiful little 3-month old girl with blue eyes and yellow hair. The crying suddenly stopped as the baby girl looked at the Air Force sergeant with a puzzled look in her eyes.
“McKinley!!” the walkie-talkie screamed over the silence of the empty desert. “What in the world are you doing out there?! Do we have a go-ahead to do this test or not?”
“Negative,” McKinley shouted into his radio. “We have a code...” he stopped. He couldn't remember the code for a person in the test site. It had never happened before, and he was very confused and flustered. “We have a baby out here,” he finally said.
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