Texas Concealed Carry Law And You - Let's Read Monster Hunter International

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chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

This is the first of my many Let's Read threads to not have been started because of either a personal connection to the books or the forum at large alerting me to how terrible it is beforehand. I simply received a PM from Back Hack informing me that this should be on my list. It happened to be free on Kindle, so I snagged it and read a few pages.

I feel like I've stumbled upon a treasure.

Monster Hunter International is a novel by Larry Correia.

Larry Correia is crazy.

Specifically, he's the founder of the Sad Puppies. The Sad Puppies are a group of "activists" who feel that the Hugo Awards have become too infected by those darn SJWs who keep awarding works with progressive political and social themes. Upset at what he feels is a push away from conservative and libertarian thought (which certainly can't have any causes beyond limp-wristed liberal influence....), the Sad Puppies nominate lovely macho man pulp. These efforts by and large failed, and we should all laugh at them.

Larry Correia is also a gun nut, specifically a Mormon gun nut, and he is or was a regular poster on The High Road, a large firearms message board mainly populated by rednecks and crotchety old people. Using his knowledge from years of experience running a gun store, Larry wrote some hack sci-fi and fantasy fiction on The High Road featuring a lot of gunplay. At the encouragement of these members, he self-published Monster Hunter International.

I also happen to be very well-versed in firearms, so I'll be extra critical of anything he professes in the book. But overall, the first few pages of this book suggested something magical in its pulpiness. Hopefully it can keep up the momentum, but I've never burst out laughing from a pulp novel before. Rolled my eyes, sure, but this is funny (both intentionally and otherwise).

I think it'll be a fun break from the absolutely awful dreck I've been doing and will be doing in the future. And if worst comes to worst, we shoot Larry Correia. He'd want it that way.

quote:

Welcome to Monster Hunter International.

Five days after Owen Zastava Pitt pushed his insufferable boss out of a fourteenth story window, he woke up in the hospital with a scarred face, an unbelievable memory, and a job offer.

It turns out that monsters are real. All the things from myth, legend, and B-movies are out there, waiting in the shadows. Officially secret, some of them are evil, and some are just hungry. On the other side are the people who kill monsters for a living. Monster Hunter International is the premier eradication company in the business. And now Owen is their newest recruit.

It's actually a pretty sweet gig, except for one little problem. An ancient entity known as the Cursed One has returned to settle a centuries old vendetta. Should the Cursed One succeed, it means the end of the world, and MHI is the only thing standing in his way. With the clock ticking towards Armageddon, Owen finds himself trapped between legions of undead minions, belligerent federal agents, a cryptic ghost who has taken up residence inside his head, and the cursed family of the woman he loves.

Business is good . . .

At the publisher's request, this title is sold without DRM (DRM Rights Management).

chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 21:52 on Apr 4, 2018

# ? Apr 4, 2018 21:34

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# ? Apr 25, 2024 18:01

Choco1980: Feb 22, 2013; I fell in love with a Video Nasty

Ground Floor! Woo!

At least the cover looks professional, especially for a self-published book.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 21:41

Liquid Communism: Mar 9, 2004; Out here, everything hurts.

In. I remember this book being like a lot of playing White Wolf games with the FOX kids bavk.in the 90's.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 21:47

Renegret: May 26, 2007; THANK YOU FOR CALLING HELP DOG, INC.

YOUR POSITION IN THE QUEUE IS *pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt*

Cat Army Sworn Enemy

I don't know if I can stomach another bad chitoryu12 book thread.

I'm forgetting what good books look like

# ? Apr 4, 2018 21:53

Renaissance Spam: Jun 5, 2010; Can it wait a for a bit? I'm in the middle of some *gyrations*

My only knowledge of this book is that Larry Correia indirectly introduced me to Seeming (now one of my favourite bands) and the excerpt you posted in your RP1 thread. I suspect I will tap out at some point over this book but I look forward to the ride as long as it lasts!

# ? Apr 4, 2018 21:54

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

I will definitely say that what limited amount of gunplay is in the first chapter is actually completely accurate, which bodes good things for whatever gun porn will come.

I need to hit up the range to rent a snubnose .357 Magnum and see if I'm as badass as Owen Zastava Pitt.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 21:55

Pustulio: Mar 21, 2012

Correia is a bad person and the stuff he writes is filled with his lovely politics, but I have fun with the books for the most part, there's a lot to make fun of for sure but I just can't have too bad a time reading about the different ways to shotgun the undead.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 22:06

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

quote:

On one otherwise normal Tuesday evening I had the chance to live the American dream. I was able to throw my incompetent jackass of a boss from a fourteenth-story window.

Now, I didn't just wake up that morning and decide that I was going to kill my boss with my bare hands. It really was much more complicated than that. In my life up to that point I would never have even considered something that sounded so crazy. I was just a normal guy, a working stiff. Heck, I was an accountant. It doesn't get much more mundane than that.

That one screwed-up event changed my life. Little did I realize that turning my boss into sidewalk pizza would have so many bizarre consequences. Well, technically, he did not actually hit the sidewalk. He landed on the roof of a double-parked Lincoln Navigator, but I digress.

My name is Owen Zastava Pitt and this is my story.

Well, that's certainly a way to open a book.

Owen Pitt worked for Hansen Industries, Inc. as an accountant. He's the new guy in his first post-college job as a single young man that doesn't involve manual labor or beating up drunks at the bar. It's as generic as generic can be, from dead potted plants to Dilbert cartoons on the cubicle walls.

The only drawback is his boss, Mr. Huffman. He's likewise a generic bad boss: short, fat, and perpetually angry. A man too dumb to understand why he hasn't been promoted any higher, believing that it must be because the whole world is out to get him.

As his supervisor, Mr. Huffman is in charge of training Pitt. He's been working overtime with 12-hour days to try and impress the higher ups and get a transfer away from Huffman's department. It's been a bit easier because in the past month Huffman has either been on vacation, on sick leave, or locked in his office and not talking to anybody.

quote:

I glanced absently at my watch. 8:05 p.m. The surrounding gray-carpeted cubes were quiet. My stomach growled, signaling that the bag of Cheetos and the banana I had eaten for lunch had long since worn off. It was time to go. I logged out of my computer, locked up my files, and put on my coat as I headed for the door. Believing I was the only one there, I killed the lights on the way out. Then the intercom buzzed. It made me jump.

"Who's there?" The ponderous voice belonged to Mr. Huffman. That was a surprise. I had not known that he was back yet. drat. I kept walking, deciding to pretend that I had not heard the intercom. If Huffman were here this late, then I did not want to get assigned whatever crap job he was working on, which, knowing what a lazy slug he was, was sure to happen. He would probably call it delegating, and pat himself on the back for being such a proactive member of the management team.

"Owen? Is that you? Come to my office immediately!" Busted. "Now, Owen. This is important!" He sounded as officious and pompous as usual.

As I sulked toward his office I had to wonder how he had known it was me. Probably a lucky guess. He must have seen the lights go out from his office. I started thinking of excuses to give him about why I needed to leave, but knew from long experience that he would just shoot them all down. Martial arts class? Nope, he already thinks I'm too militant, and he doesn't even know about my gun collection. Church? Fat chance of that. Date? I wish. Sick mother? Worth a shot, I thought. So I approached his office preparing the story about how I needed to tend to my ill mother. She lived three states away, but what Huffman didn't know couldn't hurt him.

As Pitt opens the door, all thoughts of an excuse vanish. Huffman's left his lights off, with only a tiny bit of illumination coming through the windows. His leather chair is facing away from him, looking out the window. A stained paper bag is sitting in the middle of his messy desk, leaking fluid all over his paperwork.

quote:

"Have a seat, Owen," Huffman rasped. His voice sounded strange. He did not turn around to look at me. From the top of his head it appeared that he was looking at the evening sky.

"Uh, no thanks, sir�.�.�.�I've really got to be going. My mom is sick and�.�.�."

"I�.�.�.�said�.�.�.�SIT!" he shouted as he spun around in his chair. I gasped, partly because Mr. Huffman had a look in his eyes like he was insane, but mostly because he was totally naked. Not something that I ever thought I would have to see. The lower half of his jowly face was stained with something dark and greasy, as if he had gone hog-wild at a barbeque.

Okay, that's certainly different. I raised my hands in front of me. "Look, sir, I've got to say that I don't swing that way. You do your thing. I don't care. Some guys would be flattered, but I'm out of here," I stated as I slowly backed toward the door.

"SILENCE!" he shouted, slamming his chubby fingers onto the desk hard enough to rattle it and knock over his dinner bag, spilling its contents. I froze, surprised at the fierce intensity of the command, which was unexpected coming from a man like Huffman, who had what could best be described as "jiggly man bosoms." "Do you know what tonight is, Owen? Do you? Tonight is a very special night!"

"Is it all-you-can-eat shrimp night at Sizzlers?" I replied calmly as I reached back and put my hand on the doorknob. It was official. Mr. Huffman had gone nuts. It looked like he was foaming at the mouth.

I really hope the dialogue keeps up like this.

Huffman rants at Pitt, claiming that he wants to backstab him and steal his job because he doesn't respect his authority. Pitt starts to slowly turn the doorknob behind him and claim that he's going to step outside for a bit, but then the paper bag falls over and something tumbles out.

quote:

"Is that a hand?" I blurted.

Oh.

quote:

The naked, crazy, fat man pointed out the window. "The time has come! Tonight I am a god!" he squealed.

His sausagelike finger was pointing at the full moon.

As I watched in the pale lunar glow and the yellowish backdrop of the city lights, that finger seemed to stretch. The hands began to elongate, and the fingernails thickened and spread. He looked at me, and I saw that his grin now stretched from ear to ear, literally, and his gums and teeth began to protrude menacingly past his lips. Thick dark hair was sprouting from his pores. Huffman screamed in pain and exhilaration as the popping and cracking of bones filled the room.

"Owen. You're mine now. I'm gonna eat your heart." His words were barely understandable through his dripping jaw and swelling tongue. His teeth were growing in length and sharpness.

I'd like to point out that we're only on page 7 and this guy's boss has already turned into a werewolf to eat him.

quote:

To this day I don't know why at that moment I felt the need to make a confession to my rapidly mutating boss. Even though I was in accordance with Texas state law, I was in direct violation of the company's workplace safety rule.

"You know that 'no weapons at work' policy?" I asked the twitching and growing hairy monstrosity standing less than ten feet from me. His yellow eyes bored into me with raw animal hatred. There was nothing recognizably human in that look.

"I never did like that rule," I said as I bent down and drew my gun from my ankle holster, put the front sight on the target and rapidly fired all five shots from my snub-nosed .357 Smith & Wesson into Mr. Huffman's body. God bless Texas.

This was the moment I decided that I was continuing with this book.

Werewolf-Huffman falls back against the window, stained with blood and cracked from either missed or overpenetrating shots. Pitt turns and practically bashes the door open with his face, rifling through his coat pocket for a speedloader as he runs down the hall. The door is quickly smashed open behind him, with Huffman's fat bulk having turned into a lean and mean man-eating machine.

quote:

Running in the direction of the elevator, I snapped the cylinder of my revolver closed with five more Federal 125-grain hollowpoints inside. The creature was fast, much faster than an Olympic sprinter, and I was no Olympic sprinter. My lead down the hallway dwindled in seconds. I spun and fired as it leapt at me, striking the beast in the face. His snout turned on impact and momentum carried him into the wall, crushing the sheetrock. Immediately he started to rise, jagged fur bristling down his back.

I'm a very good shot. The tiny revolver was not my best weapon for accuracy, but I did my part. Focusing on the front sight, aiming for the creature's skull, I pulled the trigger. With each concussion I brought the little gun back down and repeated the process. I was rewarded with a flash of red and white as a .357 hollowpoint blossomed through Huffman's brain, but I kept pulling the trigger until the hammer clicked empty. I was out of ammo.

My vision had tunneled in on the threat. My pulse was pounding like a drum. The adrenaline running through my system had tuned out the horrendous muzzle blasts. I brought the gun down to my side. Huffman was dead.

I tried to control my breathing as I began to hyperventilate. Perhaps I was losing my mind, for lying not twenty feet from my cubicle was a dead werewolf. A monster from fairy tales, but somehow it was here, sprawled on the carpet, brains blown out. There had not been time to feel fear or any other emotion as the creature had been chasing me, but that all came out now as if a dam had burst. The uncontrollable shaking in my limbs was slow at first, but quickly gained in intensity as I got a better look at the beast on the floor. It was like being in a car wreck. The almost disbelief as the events unfolded. The lack of emotion during the impact. And finally the brutal realization of what had happened. I just killed a werewolf.

Then Mr. Huffman rose up and snarled at me.

As Huffman stands, the exposed brain matter begins to retreat back into his skull and the bones crunch back into place over them. The werewolf tosses a chunk of his own meat in its mouth and shakes the blood off like a wet dog.

As Huffman howls, Pitt runs into the marketing office (decorated with a typical "Hang in there" kitten poster) and slams the door shut, shoving a desk in front of it. It only buys him a few seconds as the werewolf tears the door apart and begins shoving the desk aside. With his gun completely dry, Pitt grabs a fire extinguisher off the wall.

Pitt makes it into the finance department and slams the door shut on Huffman's snout. Huffman shoves the door open and slashes Pitt deeply across the chest with his claws. Pitt deploys the extinguisher as he falls, spraying directly into Huffman's open mouth and kicking it in the ribs back into the corridor. Luckily it's not a very big werewolf.

quote:

The werewolf punched through the wooden door, talons narrowly missing my flesh as he searched for me. I raised the fire extinguisher above my head and lashed out at the hairy arm, smashing it again and again with blows that would easily have broken ordinary bones. Finally the forearm shattered with an audible snap, but Huffman was not deterred. The claws kept swinging, and within seconds the limb had seemingly healed. Shouting unintelligibly, I continued bringing the extinguisher down on Huffman, the metal echoing with each hit.

We were at an impasse. He could not push through with me crushing his arms. His animal mind must have come to that same realization. As fast as it had appeared, the arm disappeared, leaving nothing but a gaping hole through the heavy oak door.

My breath came in ragged gasps from the exertion. Nothing seemed to hurt him. I had to think of something�.�.�.� Silver. That's what always worked in the movies. Where was I going to get silver in my office? But I knew the answer to that one immediately. Nowhere.

The elevator is 140 feet away, down the hall from Finance. Clutching the fire extinguisher, he stumbles for the door but only makes it as far as his cubicle before Huffman heals and bursts through the door. Without any way to outrun him, Pitt decides to fight instead of flee. The werewolf easily swats the fire extinguisher away (breaking Pitt's hand) and slams him all the way to the ceiling, smashing through the drop tiles and into an air conditioning duct.

quote:

I fell onto the top of my cube wall. It was not designed to take the impact of a three-hundred-pound man. It collapsed and I slammed onto my desk.

This dude weighs loving how much? I'm 6'2 and in decent shape and I only weigh 210 to 220. If he's 6'7, he'd be the same weight as Hulk Hogan or Killer Kowalski in their prime.

Either he's the size of some of the toughest pro wrestlers in history, or he's the size of a poster on The High Road.

As he tries to escape, the werewolf pounces on Pitt and slowly opens his mouth wide to bite off his face. Before he can leave Pitt to a slow and painful death, he whips out his 3-inch Spyderco folding knife and stabs Huffman in the throat, severing his jugular, then stabs him in the eye. The bloody handle slips from his hand.

quote:

"Regenerate this!" I bellowed as I grabbed my letter opener off of my desk and stabbed it repeatedly into his chest. Reversing my grip, I thrust it up through his bottom jaw, lodging it deep into the roof of his mouth, pinning his muzzle shut. Then I kicked him in the balls and smashed my chair over his head for good measure. He hit me with a backhand that knocked me across the room like a human cannonball. I crashed through a potted plant and rolled across the carpet.

Pitt runs into Huffman's office nearby, then sets up an ambush. As Huffman charges through the door, Pitt leaps from the top of the filing cabinet onto his back and they both smash into the desk. He wraps his meaty arms around the werewolf's throat to try and strangle him, which Huffman responds to by raking his claws along Pitt's back. Pitt grabs Huffman's snout, and with all his might twists until the werewolf's neck snaps. As Huffman thrashes on the floor, Pitt weakly climbs to the other side of the desk.

quote:

I heard the scraping of bones again as Huffman's vertebrae realigned. In a second he would be back up, and I would not be able to fight him off again. With my good hand I struggled up so I could see over the desk. There was Huffman's dinner, and in my brain that was running dangerously low on blood and oxygen, it struck me as funny. "Need a hand?" I asked nobody in particular and giggled.

The werewolf was starting to sit up. In another few seconds I would be providing him nourishment. Then he would be off killing innocent people at every full moon. On the other days of the month I was sure that he would just keep being the worst boss in the world. I don't know which one made me angrier.

Huffman swiveled his from head side to side as he regained his senses.

"Not this time, rear end in a top hat!" I said as I heaved all of my weight against the heavy desk. With a groan of protest it moved from its depression in the carpet. Desperately shoving, my one good leg straining for traction, made even more difficult because I was missing my shoe, I pushed the desk into Huffman, knocking him over, and before the werewolf realized what was happening I had pushed him and his damned desk out of the window.

This book is loving awesome.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 22:48

Vox Valentine: May 31, 2013; Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

What a loving juxtaposition between this and Ready Player One. If only it wasn't written by a horrible, morally repugnant person.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 23:33

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

I like how we went from an author who tries his hardest to avoid writing difficult action scenes to an author who starts an action scene on page 7 that takes up the whole rest of the first chapter.

# ? Apr 4, 2018 23:40

Malachite_Dragon: Mar 31, 2010; Weaving Merry Christmas magic

I think I'm gonna get testosterone poisoning before we get halfway through the drat book

# ? Apr 4, 2018 23:58

ashnjack: Jun 8, 2010; FUCK FLOWERS. JUST...FUCK 'EM.

I remember loving it when I read this the first time. Unfortunately by the third book things start getting super uncomfortable to read.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 00:22

Choco1980: Feb 22, 2013; I fell in love with a Video Nasty

Wolfman's got nards!

Also, I suspect Pitt miiiiight be a self insert, and the author pic looks like he might not be a small guy.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 00:24

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Choco1980 posted:

Also, I suspect Pitt miiiiight be a self insert, and the author pic looks like he might not be a small guy.

Might have a point.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 00:36

PittTheElder: Feb 13, 2012; Yes, it's like a lava lamp.

This book is amazing. I'm not sure why but him stopping to point out that he'd lost a shoe somewhere cracked me up.

And yeah holy poo poo this is a refreshing change from RPO, even if this author is also destined to be an absolutely terrible person.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 00:40

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

PittTheElder posted:

This book is amazing. I'm not sure why but him stopping to point out that he'd lost a shoe somewhere cracked me up.

And yeah holy poo poo this is a refreshing change from RPO, even if this author is also destined to be an absolutely terrible person.

Of course your username would be loving PittTheElder.

I actually do think this fight scene was staged well, even if it comes so rapidly that the book is basically hitting you in the face as soon as you open it. It would flow together nicely in a movie.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 00:44

Back Hack: Jan 17, 2010

I�ve opened Pandora�s box, the coming misery is my guilt. :shepface:

# ? Apr 5, 2018 01:43

TheGreatEvilKing: Mar 28, 2016

So far this is actually fairly fun.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 01:44

Internet Wizard: Aug 9, 2009; BANDAIDS DON'T FIX BULLET HOLES

The idea of that tublord climbing on top of a filing cabinet is pretty hilarious

# ? Apr 5, 2018 02:16

skrapp mettle: Mar 17, 2007

I've actually read the first three of this series, and may have them all confused with Drive Angry since I think the plot line of one of them matches Drive Angry? Cool guy has to stop some sacrifice in a swamp? It's been a while. Now I have to watch Drive Angry tonight.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 02:47

Paingod556: Nov 8, 2011; Not a problem, sir

chitoryu12 posted:

At the publisher's request, this title is sold without DRM (DRM Rights Management).

Off to a good start there.

This is the second weirdest Office Space fanfic I've seen. :munch:

# ? Apr 5, 2018 02:52

Somebody Awful: Nov 27, 2011; BORN TO DIE
HAIG IS A FUCK
Kill Em All 1917
I am trench man
410,757,864,530 SHELLS FIRED

His middle name is Zastava? :raise:

# ? Apr 5, 2018 03:20

The Grey: Mar 2, 2004

I read this book about three years ago in mass market paperback, so apparently he got beyond self-published at some point.

I remember it being somewhat fun, but not particularly memorable.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 03:21

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Sperglord Actual posted:

His middle name is Zastava?

He's the cheap copy of Dirk Pitt, you see.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 04:02

Foglet: Jun 17, 2014; Reality is an illusion.
The universe is a hologram.
Buy gold.

'Zastava' is a Russian word meaning 'outpost'.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 04:18

roomforthetuna: Mar 22, 2005; I don't need to know anything about virii! My CUSTOM PROGRAM keeps me protected! It's not like they'll try to come in through the Internet or something!

chitoryu12 posted:

I like how we went from an author who tries his hardest to avoid writing difficult action scenes to an author who starts an action scene on page 7 that takes up the whole rest of the first chapter.

Yeah, this contrast is really striking.
Cline's Monster Hunter International, chapter one:

My boss turned into a werewolf. I grabbed a gun and shot him repeatedly. He kept coming, so I shoved a desk into him and he fell out of the window and died. "I learned that move from watching Hong Kong Phooey," I said.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 04:26

Vox Valentine: May 31, 2013; Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

I won't lie though, I'm fully expecting either:
A: this is the most action that happens for a while and it keeps coming in fits and bursts and the parts without action are intolerable.
B: endless breakneck idiotic action.

I'm hoping for B but have been burned enough in the past by crazy people writing action novels to know that they have a bad sense of pacing/escalation.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 04:31

JUST MAKING CHILI: Feb 14, 2008

I googled Larry Correia after reading about him in the RPO thread, and I can�t wait for this thread. This blog (http://www.johndbrown.com/i-spent-7-days-in-a-car-with-larry-correia-international-lord-of-hate-and-lived-to-tell-about-it/) reminds me of all the terrible east Texas relatives I have to see every few major holidays, and I can imagine them writing terrible gunporn fantasy pulp.

Can�t wait!

JUST MAKING CHILI fucked around with this message at 05:21 on Apr 5, 2018

# ? Apr 5, 2018 05:12

Somebody Awful: Nov 27, 2011; BORN TO DIE
HAIG IS A FUCK
Kill Em All 1917
I am trench man
410,757,864,530 SHELLS FIRED

Foglet posted:

'Zastava' is a Russian word meaning 'outpost'.

It's also the name of a famous arms plant in Serbia, which I suspect is how Correia first heard it.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 08:02

Pustulio: Mar 21, 2012

Sperglord Actual posted:

It's also the name of a famous arms plant in Serbia, which I suspect is how Correia first heard it.

Pretty sure they actually explain the source of his name in the next couple chapters, something about his badass dads history or something I think?

# ? Apr 5, 2018 08:09

Foglet: Jun 17, 2014; Reality is an illusion.
The universe is a hologram.
Buy gold.

Sperglord Actual posted:

It's also the name of a famous arms plant in Serbia, which I suspect is how Correia first heard it.

Looks like it's a Serbian word meaning 'flag'.

Still, all three are stupid for a person to be named after.

Michael Outpost Conley
Greg Flag Roddy
Todd Gun Williams

edit: that gives me some serious 'Mike Truk' and 'Karl Dandleton' vibes, is all

Foglet fucked around with this message at 08:29 on Apr 5, 2018

# ? Apr 5, 2018 08:27

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

quote:

I could tell I was dreaming. Everything had that fuzzy, disjointed dream feel to it. First I had flashes of dragging myself toward the elevator, my belt being used as an improvised tourniquet on my leg. However, in my dream it didn't hurt a bit. Movement was slow as though I were underwater. There were glimpses of an ambulance and men sticking me with needles and pounding on my chest.

The next scene was weird, since I usually dreamed in a first person perspective. I floated weightless as I looked down and watched people in masks shock my heart with a defibrillator.

Back in the first person again. Now I stood in a field. A good, strong, green crop of some kind. My feet were bare and I could feel the wetness of the dew as I wiggled my toes. The sky was dark blue and the air smelled fresh and clean like after a summer rainstorm. A herd of cows grazed in the distance.

A man stood nearby. He was old and bent. His white hair was wild and he had a kindly smile, but hard eyes behind small round glasses. He leaned on his cane and waved.

"Hello, Boy." The old man had some sort of heavy Eastern European accent.

"Are you God?" I asked.

He laughed hard. "Me? Ha! Is good one. 'Fraid not. I just friend."

"Am I dead?"

"Almost. But you need go back. You have work to do. Yes, much work."

"Work?"

"A calling. Is hard, but is good."

"A calling?"

"From before you born. How you say?"

"Preordination?"

"More like you get short straw. Now go. No time. I send you back."

"Will we meet again?"

"Only if you are slow-witted boy and get dead again."

The nice dream ended and my world exploded in pain. �

There was a steady beeping noise. It matched pace with my heartbeat. Bump-bump. Two black shapes stood over me.

"I say we waste him now."

"Not yet."

"No way he's clean."

"You know the rules."

"The rules are wrong. I could smother him with his pillow and nobody would ever know."

"I would know."

I went back to sleep.

Pitt wakes up to the smell of antiseptic and a dry mouth, the painkiller high the only thing keeping this from feeling like a hangover. He's in a hospital room, his left hand in a cast and an IV in his arm, covered in bandages. He reaches a hand up and feels a line of stitches along his forehead, and lifts up the bandage on his chest to find that it's been stapled shut.

His brain starts trying to apply logic to what just occurred, insisting that the werewolf stuff was just a hospital fever dream and he really got in a car crash, but he tells his brain to shut the gently caress up. He hits the call button, but the people who show up aren't exactly nurses.

quote:

"Mr. Pitt. I'm Special Agent Myers and this is Special Agent Franks. We're with the government." The two men flashed their credentials in my general direction. One agent was a dark brooding type, obviously muscular and grim of attitude. The speaker was older and looked more like a college professor than a Fed. They were both wearing off-the-rack suits, and neither looked very happy. They pulled up chairs. The professor crossed his legs, steepled his fingers, and scowled at me. The younger one pulled his gun.

"Move and I'll kill you," he said, and I did not doubt him for an instant. It was a Glock, and it had a sound suppressor screwed onto its muzzle. I did not know what caliber it was, but from where I was sitting the bore looked freaking huge. The suppressor did not waver. I did not move.

While this seems like a terrible way to conduct a government investigation, there's actually a point to it.

Myers hands Pitt some water while Franks keeps the gun on him, giving him enough moisture to speak. Pitt tries to lie and claim that his injuries are from falling down the stairs (he blames the morphine for coming up with such a crappy excuse), but they immediately tell him that they saw the security tapes and are well aware that Cecil Huffman turned into a lycanthrope and got shoved out a window.

quote:

"It was self-defense. I'm the good guy here. Why the gun?"

"You know how people become werewolves, don't you, Mr. Pitt? That's one thing that the movies get right. If you're bitten by one you, too, will be infected. The DNA-altering virus lives in their saliva. If you're clawed there is a smaller chance that you can be infected, but it's still possible. If we had found a single clear bite mark on you, we would be disposing of your body right now. Under the Anti-Lycanthrope Act of '95 we're supposed to terminate all confirmed were creatures immediately. I'm sorry."

"I don't think he bit me," I squeaked. But I felt a lump of dread in my gut. He had mauled me pretty badly. Was I going to turn into a werewolf? Or was the FBI just going to shoot me first?

"Silver bullets," grunted Agent Franks. He kept the Glock centered on my head. I don't know what kind of Jackie Chan move he was expecting me to pull, but I wasn't planning on going anywhere. I could barely move. "Just in case."

So yeah, these definitely aren't regular FBI agents.

They're still waiting on a blood sample to come back to confirm whether or not Pitt is going to transform into a werewolf and tear apart the room. He's free to go if they come back negative, but will be in violation of the Unearthly Forces Disclosure Act if he breathes a word of any of it and will be hunted down with lead bullets. In the meantime, they wait.

So I have one big problem here. I flipped through the rest of the chapter, and it seems like he's in a regular hospital and not some secret Monster Hunter International base deep underneath a mountain or anything. These guys were getting ready to pop a patient in a public hospital with a silver bullet to the forehead. Suppressors may quiet a gunshot, but they don't exactly make it silent (and as a gun sperg, Correia should be well aware of that). I hope they had a plan to bag his body and find a way to smuggle it out while still in their suits, unless they want to end up on the evening news.

quote:

A doctor came in and took my pulse and blood pressure. A nurse changed my IV and checked my bandages. The staff seemed intimidated by the Feds, and left without talking. Flowers were delivered. They were from Hansen Industries, with a card wishing me a speedy recovery. Along with the card there was also a letter on Hansen Industries stationary that informed me that I was fired for violating the Official Workplace Safety Code No Weapons in the Workplace Rule. If I did not want to risk an interruption to my Workers' Compensation, I had best not protest the firing. Hugs and kisses, Human Resources.

Myers and Pitt watch Jeopardy on TV together, which Pitt easily destroys him in. Franks sits with his silenced Glock and a Diet Coke.

quote:

Alex Trebek had all of the answers. I just had questions.

"What is Constantinople? So, Myers, how bad was I injured?"

"You lost a lot of blood and technically died on the operating table for two minutes. No brain activity at all. You have about three hundred stitches and staples in you and some broken bones. If we don't have to shoot you, you should heal up just fine. But you won't ever be pretty. What is the Great Wall of China?"

The thought that I had actually been dead was interesting. That was kind of cool. I wondered if I could use that as a pickup line.

"Who is Ghandi? What happened to Mr. Huffman?"

"He landed on a Lincoln Navigator. The desk landed on him. He was pulped. Nobody else got hurt." He was frustrated. I was tearing him up in the Famous History category. I could tell the professor was used to winning. Ha ha sucker, eat hot trivia death! "What was the Magna Carta? Huffman didn't pull back together or anything did he?"

"drat, you're fast. Nope. Lycanthropes can regenerate from just about anything other than silver, but it takes energy to restore tissue. There's only so much energy stored in one body, so if you inflict enough damage on them, they die."

"Fire," grunted Franks.

"Indeed, fire works great. Wait, I know this. What is uranium!" he shouted. I made a buzzing sound.

"Wrong. What is beryllium? drat, Myers, I thought you had to have an education to be a G-man. You suck."

Myers gives up and switches to CNN, where the news is covering a Russian oil pipeline blown up by Chechen terrorists. Pitt tries to ask more questions, but gets firmly shut up as being on a need-to-know basis. There's a knock on the door, but it swings open immediately after and Franks barely has time to hide his pistol under a Martha Stewart magazine. The man who walks in is lean, average height, mid-forties. Close-cropped blonde hair and no real distinguishing features apart from a cigarette in his mouth.

Yes, there's actually a bunch of fan stuff about this series. They even made a tabletop RPG.

quote:

"Well, if it ain't the junior danger rangers. How's the murdering witnesses business?" the man asked, reaching into the pocket of his leather bomber jacket and pulling out a business card. He stuck the card into the edge of my wrist cast. It stuck there, vibrating slightly.

"Screw you, Harbinger," Franks said.

"Situation's under control. No need for you here," the professor stated in a cold voice.

"I'll be ice-skating in hell before I believe that you federal weasels have anything under control."

"You better shut up," Franks growled.

"Or what?" the man said with calculated belligerence and just a touch of a southern accent. "Gonna arrest me? You might not like it much, but we're a legitimate business again. If you Feds hadn't booted us out of Yellowstone, that werewolf wouldn't have gotten away, that fat guy wouldn't have gotten bitten, and this guy never would have gotten attacked."

"National parks are our jurisdiction. Your people can't legally be armed in them, so you were out of luck. So you just need to calm down," Myers stated in a manner that suggested he was used to being obeyed.

The new guy sneered. "I need to calm down, Myers? Your bureaucratic nonsense caused this trail of bodies. You could have let us break a couple of stupid laws and you wouldn't have two dead people and this one." He jerked a thumb in my general direction.

"The rules are there for a reason. Not obeying the rules is what got you shut down the first time. I think it was a mistake to ever let your kind back into business."

I'm wondering if Harbinger is some kind of non-human based on what Myers said. Considering this is a Larry Correia book, "your kind" could just as well be a no-nonsense Republican who breaks the rules to save the day and stop those darn SJWs.

Pitt interrupts, and Earl Harbinger shakes his hand and introduces himself as being from MHI. All he says about them is they're a private, for-profit business and that he thinks Pitt would be a good new recruit. He waves off the agents' thinking about him turning into a werewolf; as he says, he "wrote the book" on werewolves and after 5 days without any signs he's confident that Pitt isn't infected. He says once the tests come back negative to give him a call on that business card.

As Harbinger leaves, Pitt flips off the agents and tells them to leave him alone to get some sleep.

quote:

I had a strange dream. It was hazy and blurry, jerky and disjointed, violent and quick. Not like a normal dream at all.

There was a battle. I did not know when it took place, but somehow I knew that it had occurred in the past. Details were obscured by billowing clouds of snow. Huge numbers of soldiers defended against a single unnatural being, trying in vain to keep him from his goal, and dying by the score. The only thing that mattered to him had been taken, and he had come to reclaim it. He was the Guardian.

There was an evil thing in the dream, even more sinister than the Guardian. It too was old, cursed and blighted, and seething with rage and hate. It was weakened by failure, and retreated as the Guardian approached. Its final minions fell before the immortal killer as the cursed thing fled into the ruins.

The last soldier waited for the Guardian. He had been the leader of the blood-drenched, elite force. He stood defiant in his black uniform, towering over the body of a frail human sacrifice, proudly shouting that his lord would return to finish what they had started. The soldier placed his pistol against his temple and ended his life.

The final moments of the dream had a small bit of clarity to them. I was able to finally see the Guardian. He was a giant of a man. Every inch of his skin had been covered in strange tattoos. The ink lines moved like living things. He looked right at me across space and time. His eyes were solid pools of hate-filled black.

"Thou shalt die by my hand."

Pitt wakes with a start, Myers' cell phone playing an annoying "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" ring tone. The phone call ends without him saying anything, and Pitt closes his eyes as the fear and anxiety well up. He hopes that if they're about to shoot that his brains leave a mess on their suits. Finally, he opens his eyes to see the agents walking out. Franks actually looks a bit dejected about not getting a chance to kill someone.

quote:

Slow minutes passed as I made sure they weren't coming back, but all was still. The call had come. The stranger's promise had been true. I was not infected, was still human, and wasn't going to die. I laughed until I pulled something in one of the many lacerations in my back and then I cried in pain and then in relief. As I said earlier, I was not normally by nature a pious man, but on that night I sure was. I sobbed and heaved as all of the stress left me spent and wasted.

There were two final things to do before I went back to sleep. I grabbed the bouquet of get-well flowers from Hansen Industries and hurled it across the room. It had been a stupid job anyway. Then I pulled the business card out, brought it up close to my face, and tried to read it with my blurry eyes. I couldn't focus well enough to read the fine print, but I could read the heading. �

Monster Hunter International
Monster Problems? Call the Professionals.
Established 1895

chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 13:23 on Apr 5, 2018

# ? Apr 5, 2018 13:20

EVGA Longoria: Dec 25, 2005; Let's go exploring!

chitoryu12 posted:

So I have one big problem here. I flipped through the rest of the chapter, and it seems like he's in a regular hospital and not some secret Monster Hunter International base deep underneath a mountain or anything. These guys were getting ready to pop a patient in a public hospital with a silver bullet to the forehead. Suppressors may quiet a gunshot, but they don't exactly make it silent (and as a gun sperg, Correia should be well aware of that). I hope they had a plan to bag his body and find a way to smuggle it out while still in their suits, unless they want to end up on the evening news.

"He woke up and started going crazy! He grabbed for my partner's gun, and I had to shoot him."

# ? Apr 5, 2018 13:32

Paingod556: Nov 8, 2011; Not a problem, sir

He's gonna stop cold to mention every firearm through this, isn't he?

The 'it was a Glock' line just came off as clunky. At least he didn't specify it was a 'Glock 22C in .40S&W, with a SilencerCo Osprey suppressor' or some poo poo. I've read too many fics where the author seems to think if you don't say exactly what a character has, in that much detail, you'll confuse them. What's wrong with 'service pistol with a big-rear end can screwed on'.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 13:52

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Paingod556 posted:

He's gonna stop cold to mention every firearm through this, isn't he?

The 'it was a Glock' line just came off as clunky. At least he didn't specify it was a 'Glock 22C in .40S&W, with a SilencerCo Osprey suppressor' or some poo poo. I've read too many fics where the author seems to think if you don't say exactly what a character has, in that much detail, you'll confuse them. What's wrong with 'service pistol with a big-rear end can screwed on'.

Better than how Die Hard 2 did it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecwK3UMxoxQ

# ? Apr 5, 2018 13:57

Paingod556: Nov 8, 2011; Not a problem, sir

chitoryu12 posted:

Better than how Die Hard 2 did it.

Or Captain America: Civil War and the :airquote:

'AR-15s'

(the rifles were SiGs, FALs and Galils, none have any relation to Stoners rifles, and yes it still annoys me)

# ? Apr 5, 2018 14:04

Drunken Baker: Feb 3, 2015; VODKA STYLE DRINK

I think this is the first one of your threads where I've actually read all the book parts. Hahah.

Shame the dude is a weirdo. You write schlock! Own it. There's nothing wrong with enjoying and creating daft fast-food literature! (Some might argue that point)

# ? Apr 5, 2018 14:10

Orthodox Rabbit: Jun 2, 2006; This game is perfect for empty-headed dunces that don't like to think much!! Of course, I'm a genius... I wonder why I'm so good at it?!

There's more action in the first chapter then all of RPO put together.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 14:24

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Drunken Baker posted:

I think this is the first one of your threads where I've actually read all the book parts. Hahah.

Shame the dude is a weirdo. You write schlock! Own it. There's nothing wrong with enjoying and creating daft fast-food literature! (Some might argue that point)

He seems to be one of those conservative guys that is absolutely convinced that the only reason society is bowing to those darn SJWs and their "give human rights to people" advocacy is because of the liberal media propaganda, so when the Hugo Awards started awarding progressive authors he lost his mind and started trying to get people to nominate the dumbest pulp ever (which coincidentally often included his own books) in protest.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 14:38

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# ? Apr 25, 2024 18:01

Renegret: May 26, 2007; THANK YOU FOR CALLING HELP DOG, INC.

YOUR POSITION IN THE QUEUE IS *pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt*

Cat Army Sworn Enemy

I'm not much of a gun person but I'm guessing that the love interest in this book will be the Glock that Frank's holding. Pitt will run into the Glock on the street downtown without her business attire (the silencer) on and it'll kick off an initially tense but sexually charged professional relationship that will eventually turn into something more.

# ? Apr 5, 2018 14:39

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > Texas Concealed Carry Law And You - Let's Read Monster Hunter International

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