A large man walks heavily across the room. He carries with him a large-looking tank-like backpack. Attached to it is a rifle sized gun connected to the backpack with a hose. At the tip of the rifle is a small flame. The large man grunts a greeting to the crowd as he approaches the podium, walking as if the flamethrower he carries is a normal accessory.
“The name’s Santino.” His voice is low and gravely. “I’m here to talk to you today about vampires.” He looks up from the podium, twilight, blue-grey eyes scanning the audience. His face is frightening, scarred and wrinkled with age. His hair is a mess of salt and pepper strands set wild about his head like a lion’s mane. He sneers, flashing a quick hint of his fangs behind his dry lips.
“You can forget the shit you’ve been told about garlic and holy water. Stakes through the heart won’t get you anything but dead. You see a vampire. You run, plain and simple. There is no fighting one of these creatures. And there is only one sure fire way to kill’em.” He pats the weapon in his hands.
“Fire.” He growls. “It’s the only thing that will send these beast back to our holy lord for judgment.” He makes the sign of the cross with his right hand, kisses his knuckle, and returns to patting his weapon.
“Now, I don’t normally like to deal with the public, but Katie here has told me she will give me the location of Lysanders home. Natually that’s a place I’d like to… clean up, so I’m going to play nice and answer some questions." He looks back towards Katie and smiles, trying his best to look nice, before returning his attention back to the crowd.
"I don’t want any of you pansy-assed, vampire sympathizers out there asking me cry baby questions. Vampires are monsters, plain and simple, you understand? They may lure you in with their mind control, they may make you think they are nice and sweet, but all they want is your blood. They need to be put down like the rabid dogs they are! If you’ve got some serious questions for me, then let’s get this show moving.”
Jessica says, “You think of yourself this way? Interesting....perhaps this is how you justify your actions? Are you seriously suggesting I could outrun you, btw?”
“I don’t need to justify my actions to anyone; my orders come from God and his holy Church.”
Santino takes out a large dagger from his vest. With one flick of his wrist, he throws the dagger across the room. It flies in a blur, burying its self to the hilt, into the wall.
“No ma’am, I’m not suggesting you can outrun me, and neither can they. At least in running, you give yourself a chance at survival, something you have none of by standing and waiting for your death.”
Robyn says, “Is this how you get your way? Sneering and growling at folks?
Should I feel threatened?”
Santino straightens up and glares at the audience. “I’m not here to make friends. And your feelings are not my concern.”
Jenna Alexander says, “You say you take your orders from the church and God...? Isn't killing a sin?
Maybe they (whoever 'they' really are) are telling you to do their dirty work so you go to hell for conducting their dirty work. You burn, they laugh down at you from the pearly gates.
A raspy, gravely, laugh erupts from Santino’s mouth. “You sound like Lysander now.” He tries to mimic a high pitched, nagging voice. “God wouldn’t condone murder in his name. You’re going to hell.”
A stone cold expression crosses his face. “Can you tell me, you wouldn’t want me to put down a monster, when he has you by the throat?" His voice rises to a yell as he speaks. "Are you that self righteous? Would you nag at me then about commandments and dirty work.”
A silence fills the room. Santino waits, daring someone to speak.
After a few moments, Santino nods and grunts, satisfied he has made his point. His voice returns to normal. “Human history has shown us plenty of war’s fought in God’s name. I destroy evil. God condemns those who have turned away from him, not those who do work in his name. I’m quite comfortable with my position and my immortal soul.”
Scott Free says, “Hey, Santino, you're cool. Had a question about superstitions; if they're not true, how did it happen that people started believing them?”
“Now, there’s a question worth answering.” Santino smiles. “How old are you boy? You have any interest in killing vampires?” He grunts. “Were always looking for a few more, mortal soldiers, they don’t seem to last long in the order.”
“Superstitions, are a good word for them, another word is bullshit! It’s the oldest trick in the book boy. Let a human see what they want to see; something hurting you. Let the rumor spread. People want to believe they can fight and win. It makes them easier prey. You think a crucifix is going to hurt a vampire? You think garlic is going to damage them? They heal instantly; you think a stake through the heart will take them down permanently? If you believe that garbage, you might as well walk out into the night and yell, ‘come get me.’ I’ll say it again. Fire, that’s your only weapon against them. You’ll never get close enough to remove their head, so you have to burn them down.”
Scott Free says, "Cool. Thanks for the answer. Hope you don't mind my asking one more question; ever fought a werewolf?"
"Well, now you do have a head for the hunt, don't you, boy? Sure, we took out a pack up near Boulder Colorado. Wolves are easy to kill but hard to spot. Only way to be sure, is to see them transform. Most of those beast will hold off until the moon is full if they know their being watched. Nothing can stop them from transforming during the full moon."