part 1, Enter: The Clown Hunter

Full moon tonight. Always seems they are more frenzied on full moons. 

They roam the streets in packs. Always 3 or 4 of them. Always at night.  Not sure why these things seem to be nocturnal, maybe its the pale skin. Funny, I'd always thought it was make-up.  I'd been tracking this one for a couple of hours now, hoping they'd lead me back to their den. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't going to happen tonight.

The drop of a tin can and the screech of an alley cat in the distance startle them and then they set off to investigate its source.  I follow from above so they don't detect me.  A few blocks up I see the glow of someones campfire coming out of the ground floor of an old, burned-out skeleton of a building. Frickin' idiots.  Everyone knows to stay off the streets at night, what little folks are left in this part of town, that is.

With a loud honk of the bicycle horn the large one was carrying, my quarry tears off in the direction of the fire.  I can tell they now have caught the scent of whatever is cooking.  From my vantage point, it's easy to get ahead of them. Now all I have to do is wait.

 I crouch in the darkened archway above the small family of three huddled around the burning trash can, trying to stay warm on this autumn night.  The kid looks like she's maybe 5 at the oldest.  Dad is cooking something...some kind of animal, probably a cat, and mom is holding the kid. These folks must not be from around here, they have the look of road-weariness on them.  I have half a mind to drop in on them and give them a stern lecture on making camp on ground level, but that can wait 'til after.

The wind shifts and I can tell they are close.  That pungent stench of what can only be described as a cross between fried bologna and old tuna. I stand and stretch, any minute now...

Mom screams. Time to play.

I drop from my perch and land square on the shoulders of the first one. I feel both collar bones snap beneath my heels.  A growl of agony as it falls. A quick swing of my trusty shillelagh and the growl turns to a gurgle. One down. 3 to go.

I turn my head and give a quick wink and a smile to the kid who is clutching mom's arms, then turn back to my prey, staying between them and the family.  The large one growls and points at me, the other two follow the command and lunge.  I duck. They collide. I grab one from behind and snap his neck and throw the limp corpse at the other.  He pushes it aside and lunges again, only to meet my fist, square between the eyes, followed by a round-house that would make Chuck Norris jealous. That's 3 down.

I turn to face the leader. Crack my neck for effect and give the old kung-fu-flick-come-hither. It roars, turns tail, and runs away.  I'm about to give chase when Dad asks, "What the hell are they?"

"Clowns." I reply.

"So...it's true...I mean, we've heard the stories but have never..." Dad stammers.

"Get off the street. There's a vacant building up the block.  It's clear. Get inside and lock the door. Stay in 'til morning." I order them.

"Who are you?" Mom asks.

"Me?  I'm the Clown Hunter." I say as I take off after the remaining target.