I'm the Cleaner

So those that know me, and know what I do, call me “The Cleaner”. I’m what you might call a bounty hunter, except I deal with very special cases; stuff that nobody else can really handle. I seek out the filth, the otherworldly beings, even what you might think is supernatural, and I terminate it. I don’t discriminate, I don’t hesitate, I just squeeze the trigger. I'm not open for hire, I only take contracts from one person. And no, I can’t bring you into the fold. It’s something you’re born into, and there’s only ever a handful of us alive at a time. I can’t go too far into the details, but I am allowed to say this:

It all starts with a slip of paper, usually an envelope in the mail. Sometimes though, in very rare cases, I will a get a letter in person. I call her Star, she’s not allowed to tell me her real name. And Star isn't her codename. Traditionally someone like her would just be called a Messenger. Nothing else that is all they are. I call her Star, though. She has a real bright personality, figured it fit.

Now, I’m gonna share a story with you all. Now I'm not really a storyteller, so you'll have to forgive me if the format is weird. But I'll let you in on my life, peel back the curtain just a little. I had a, uh, case a few years back. Started, like I said, with a knock at the door; which always gets my heart pumping. You see we cleaners we don’t have friends, and we don’t visit each other. So a knock at the door can only mean one thing; Star is there waiting with a special case.

I unlocked the deadbolt, grabbed the cold doorknob, and slowly edged the door open. There was Star, as expected, greeting me with the huge smile she always had on. “Morning, Mr. Clean. How ya doin?” She asked politely, moving her bangs out of her eyes.

I returned the smile and motioned for her to enter. “Still alive, so I’m doing better than most of the people I know.” We made our way into the kitchen, and I poured her a glass of water, something I always did for a Messenger. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and assume this isn’t a social visit?” I handed her the glass of water.

“Oh thank you.” She took the glass and sipped on the water before replying. “You know one of these days I’m just gonna pop by to hang out.” It was a nice thought, but I knew it could never happen. It’s against the rules, and no one breaks the rules. “But you are right,” she pulled an envelope from her back pocket. “This one is gonna be a toughy.” There were two pictures...usually, I only got one. She placed them on the table. The photos were of two monstrous looking beasts, hairy and huge. I instantly recognized what they were, and immediately got a pit in my stomach. Star must have noticed because she responded with a reassuring pat on the back. “You can do it.” They were Lycanthropes, or more commonly known as Werewolves. They’re about as tough as it gets.

“Yeah, probably. But two, really?” I shook my head and sighed. "Am I to take them on alone?"

“Yuppers. And we both know what that means,” she paused to drink more water. “They’re mating, so we’re gonna need you to deal with this as quickly as possible. Can’t be giving them a chance to separate, and disappear.” Lycanthropes are pretty much what they appear to be like in movies. Vicious, strong, fast, practically the perfect killing machine. However, in real life, they don’t have any special weakness. They die the same way as everything else, and the best way to do it is blood loss. Explosives work well too, but that can tend to get messy and you might blow yourself up. I prefer hit and run tactics. That’s a problem when there’s two though. You have to severely injure both of them before they have the chance to rip you to shreds. It is preferred to take them out before they have the chance to morph, you've got a 50/50 on that though. Normally you won't see two in the same place because they are very territorial.

I groaned again, “Fuck, alright. I’ll do it. Give me two weeks tops. If I don’t check in, I’m dead. Contact Two, if that happens. She can take over the case.”

“I doubt it’ll come to that.” Star always confident in my abilities. “You always come out on top, one way or another.”

I snickered, “Yeah, well just give me the details. The sooner I plan this suicide mission, the better.”

I was awarded a laughed from Star, “Yes sir. So here what we got…”

---

So of course, I can’t actually go into the details of the locations and the contacts we used in the area. All I can say is that the events went down in a town in the States. I’m sure the more curious of you will try to search for news reports and whatnot, but I promise you that you’re not going to find anything. Any shred of evidence that was there is gone. My family has been doing this for a very long time, we're a lot better at this than you are. You will find nothing.

Now when a Cleaner goes looking for information, there’s really only one thing that can give you reliable facts; an imp. That's what we call them, they don't really have a name in the English language. They’re half human, half I guess what you would call a demon. They're about as close to human as monsters can get. I know that may sound scary, but there’s a reason we call them imps. They’re small, weak, feeble creatures. The only thing they have going for them is their longevity, pretty much immortal. And only a handful of them are still living. So being that they pose no threat, we don’t put them on the kill list. Imps are good for one thing, and one thing only; information gathering. Ins and outs, they know it all. And for a price, they'll tell you everything you need to know.

So when I arrived at the small town I arranged a meeting with the "local" imp, via my contacts. Naturally, he wanted to meet in a public place. The otherworldly aren’t really trusting of us Cleaners. It was the middle of the day when we met. I spotted him sitting on the bench, right in the middle of the park. To the average passerby, he might have just looked like a small odd looking middle-aged man, not worth more than two looks. I instantly noted the signs, however. Pointed left ear, hunched posture, one red eye and one blue; imps all have the same disfigurements. They can easily blend in with contacts and whatnot though. You might've even met one before without knowing it.

I plopped down next to him, “Mind if we cut to the chase, Imp?”

The imp grunted and turned to face me, his thick brows already furrowed. “You’re all the same, you cleaners. Been dealing with you lot for over a century, always impatient. Never enough time to chat, eh?” He sighed deeply, obviously not wanting to be there.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Sorry if I don’t stop to ask you about the weather. I’ve got a job to do, and neither of us gets paid by the hour. Now tell me about the doggies.”

The imp looked at me, eyebrows still furrowed, notably displeased with my response. ‘Mmm. Well, treating them like dogs will definitely get you six feet under.” I didn’t respond, silently encouraging him to continue. “There’s two of them. They’re young, early maybe mid-twenties. They’re gonna be strong, but you’ve got the upper hand with experience, I would think.” He paused as a mother and her rather chubby kid passed by. “Three victims so far, but they were all human. So they won’t be ready for something like you.” He scratched his hairy chin and looked at me with his mismatched eyes. “The female’s name is Karen, the other Brandon.”

“And where are Karen and Brandon staying?” I inquired.

“There’s a lodge in the woods, east all the way at the back; they’re on private property. They stay there on the weekends.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Are we done yet? I need a nap.”

“Last question. Why haven’t they been caught yet? Three’s a lot of missing people.”

The imp was quick to respond. “They only take homeless, people that won’t be missed.” And before I could ask anything else he was up on his feet hobbling away, “Good luck, Cleaner. You're gonna need it. Can’t say that I’ll miss you if you die.” He cackled as he walked away. Charming creatures.

He was right, I'd need all the luck. Killing one werewolf is difficult, killing two approaches impossible. You have to plan, weigh the risks heavily and hope it all goes smooth. And it has to go smooth. Bearing that in mind, I rested up, got familiar with the terrain, and eventually I found myself hiking through the thickest parts of the forest a few days later.

It was dark, not a single hint of moonlight was able to push its way through the thick canopy. I had decided that it would be better to take them out after daylight hours. By then, they would have their next victim already and the feast would already be underway. Werewolves are emotional creatures, so I could only hope they were caught up in the ritual. Pitiful that I had to let a civilian die in the process, "not all hunts are without collateral damage." I reassured myself. Took about half an hour of wading through the thick trees, before I started approaching a clearing. I could see the small cabin in the distance. At first glance, it was quite homely looking. Wooden walls, a fireplace smoking, even a sign that said welcome. There was one thing that did break the illusion, however.

The screams, the bone-chilling screams of a man whose flesh was being peeled from his bones. I could see him, laying on a table, arms, and legs strapped down; a man and a woman standing over him. The man had a large blade and was slicing through his skin like it was butter. They were chanting in an old language, one that doesn’t have a name. Their voices were...guttural, and a deeper pitch than humans were possible of making. It was the mating ceremony. They flay the victim alive, eat the skin, drain the blood into buckets, and then smear themselves in the blood. It was a sick and twisted ritual, and I didn’t give them the chance to finish it.

I looked down the iron sights of my rifle, picking my first target; the male, Brandon. The first shot ripped through the forest until it found its mark. The bullet tore through the man’s chest, stopping his heart in an instant. Blood spattered on the ground as he slumped to his knees and fell to his face. Karen reacted almost instantaneously and dashed behind the trees to the right of the house. I expected that though, werewolf reflexes were remarkable even when in human form. I already knew what would happen next, she would change...become the monster I was sent to kill.

The werewolf transformation is a slow, excruciatingly painful process. So I've heard at least. Bones grow and break to morph the body into a massive beast. Hair stabs through the skin creating roots where none existed before. Their teeth all fall out one by one and are replaced by vicious fangs. Finger and toenails are pushed out, and in their place, only sharp bones remain; twice as long, strong and sharp. Close quarter combat against them is, well, a terrible idea. Almost always fatal.

I sighed and checked my surroundings. There were no signs of Karen. “Maybe she…” an abrupt inhuman screech tore through the forest. It was distant, but they were known for their ability to cover ground fast. Everything got quiet after that. “Fuck..” I could feel the tremor in my hand already, her transformation was complete and I had just killed her lover. Again, they are very emotional creatures. Passionate to their very core. I emptied the chamber of my rifle and pushed another round in. IT wasn't human anymore.

Slowly I started making my towards the lodge, taking care to not make the slightest of sounds. I was inching my way to the ritual table. “He-help me…” I could hear the man croak out as I neared. “They’re going to kill me...please help me.” His voice was getting weaker. I looked over his bloody mess of a body or, at least, what was left of it. "You need to..call an ambulance." His breathing was more labored now, wheezing as his lungs fought for oxygen.

I rested my hand on his forehead, "It's gonna be alright. Close your eyes, I'll take it from here." He tried to say something more but his eyes slowly drifted shut, and his breathing eventually stopped. It was as shitty was to die.

I let my eyes trail down to the other dead man. Brandon, the Lycanthrope, he was young. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a hole in his chest. On the surface level, you can't even tell that they aren't human. There's no giveaway like there is with the imps. Werewolves are hard to find, "Unless, of course, they're morphed and hunting you." I nudged him with my boot. No movement. "Good," I thought. I stepped over his body and moved towards their cabin. I had to shut myself in. I needed to trap the beast.

I opened the door slowly pushing it with my rifle, making sure to close it behind me. The fireplace was still lit making the shadows dance on the walls. "Very homely indeed," I said absentmindedly. And it was. There wasn't much to it, but it was nice. A sofa and recliner by the fire, a kitchen past that, no T.V. though. I looked back at the dead body outside, "I guess they've got other interest." There were paintings on the walls. Mostly of wolves and the such. Brandon's signature was on a few of them. "Guess he was a painter when he wasn't busy being a werewolf."

Another screech tore through the forest, much closer this time. It was stalking the treeline, deciding how to attack. I snapped back to the task at hand. "Right, best get to it then." I needed to immobilize the beast. I smiled as I dropped my duffel bag to the floor, and set aside two large bear traps. "Even a Lycanthrope can't ignore steal teeth biting into its bones." I placed one by the door, maybe five feet away, and one by the window next to the fireplace. "This oughta do."

I waited, and I waited. Three hours went by before I heard it again. The beast was smart to wait that long. I was tired and the recliner was definitely helping me to fall asleep, especially with the warmth of the fire. However, the second I heard it my adrenaline kicked into overdrive. It was circling the house heavy footfalls making solid thuds. It made no attempt to hide its presence, growling every other breath. Werewolves were masters at stalking their prey, you can only hear them when they want you to. It's no wonder she was able to get to the house without me noticing. She wanted me intimidated and I was. I could hear the slow scraping of her talons as she carved into the house. The low guttural growl as she grew bolder with each step.

BOOM

The cabin shook violently as something smashed against it. Paintings fell from the walls, my body trembled, and then it got quiet. No more footsteps, no more growling, it was in kill mode.

"Shit!" Every hair on my body was at attention, goosebumps rose on my arms, and the tremor in my hand returned. All the experience in the world can't save you from the terror of a pissed off Lycanthrope. I took a deep breath and slowly stood from the chair, rifle in hand. I doused the fire and positioned myself in the center of the room. Equal distance to either of the traps. With the fire out it was dark, and hopefully, it wouldn't see the bear traps.

"YOU...WILL...DIE" It was a deep, almost demonic thing to hear a werewolf talk. Before I could react the beast burst through the front door. I had to duck as the door flew past my head and crashed into the kitchen. There wasn't much light but I could see enough. Maybe eight feet tall, black fur, several hundred pounds, it was frightening. Muscles bulging, eyes glaring, fangs bared. It was pissed...at me. I couldn't afford to waste a second, though.

I raised the rifle and opened fire. Shot after shot, three times I fired on the beast. The attack barely fazed it as it only walked closer. The bullets ripped through its body, and blood slowly leaked out, coating the monster with a crimson glow. But it didn't care, they're tough, I just had to buy time, wait for it to step into the trap. "That's it, come and get me!" I shouted, squeezing the trigger once more. The bullet hit its ear and the beast roared in anger. Just one more step and I had the monster, "Yeah, tha-"

It stopped right in front of the trap and leaned forward so that its head was in the moonlight. Ears flat against its wolf-like skull, grey eyes staring me down, as it bared its fangs at me. "YOU," it flung the bear trap to side causing it to clatter against the wall and snap shut, "DIE...NOW!"

It roared menacingly and before I could react it lunged at me, clearing the distance in one leap. It swatted me like a fly and sent me crashing into the fireplace. I hit hard and nearly cracked my skull open no the brick. Her sharp claws had sliced through my vest like butter and gashed me open. Everything was blurry and my head felt like it was swimming in circles. I managed to push myself off of the ground. I was greeted with another earsplitting screech, I felt my eardrums pop as I fell back against the fireplace. Even from across the room, I could feel how hot its breath was and the smell...it reeked of death. However, I couldn't afford not to act, I reached for the pistol on my belt and opened fire again.

I was dazed but I got lucky, the bullet hit it in the head. It wasn't enough to kill it, not by a long shot but it gave me a chance to move. I could see it fall back and break the small dining table it was next to. It was disoriented, and I used that to make my way to the window. I stumbled as I walked, almost falling on the trap that I had set earlier. I lifted the glass plane and threw myself onto the window seal. I let my body slowly slide out the other side. I needed to put distance back between us, formulate a new plan.

"FUCK!" My ankle erupted in pain. I could hear an audible pop as the werewolf crushed my bone with its grip, while also digging its sharps claws into my skin. It had caught my leg just as I was sliding out. "You fucking bitch!" I shouted. My entire leg felt as though it was on fire. I was in a bad spot. More or less dangling out of the window.

I could see it's head sticking halfway out of the window now, "YOU...AR-" I fired multiple rounds into its jaw, not giving it a chance to finish a sentence. The beast jerked its head back, smashing the top of the window as it did. I felt my ankle slip from its grip and my head smash on the ground as I fell onto the grass. I couldn't stand, my vision was fading, and the last thing I could hear was the beast pounding on the walls.

---

"Mmm," I groaned as sat forward. I was alive, but only barely. I was in a puddle of my own blood, and I couldn't use my left leg. Took me nearly ten minutes to stand up, and another few to hobble over to the cabin window; what was left of it anyway. Karen the Werewolf was seemingly dead. I leaned myself against the walls and peered inside. From what I could see, it looked as though the beast had bled out. Several bullet wounds, a bear trap still clamped on its ankle, "Guess you stepped on it right before you snatched my leg." Even large pieces of glass sticking out the back of its head. "Looks like you died trying to break the wall down, though." I pulled my burner out of my pocket and dialed my only contact, "Mission is a success. Gonna need a cleanup crew and a pickup for myself. Oh, and bring Helga. I'm hurt pretty bad." I let myself slide down against the wall. I drifted off looking at the stars, they looked especially dull that night.

Took me a few days to wake up from that. Spent even longer in recovery; witch doctors can only get you so far.

That's the story for now though. You don't have to believe me, but I assure you, some of the legends of old are true. I might post again. I've got plenty to tell. For now though, I've got business to attend to.