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16 Amit Bobrov
lived in this house. For an instant our hero paused to consider
the ramifications of his actions, and the choices that lead him

down this bloody path.
This is not how this once proud man envisioned his life. When
he grew up he wanted to be an air-force pilot. He never once
even imagined that at the age of thirty, he'd be a vigilante hunter,
tracking down and killing monsters, fighting some invisible war
the vast majority of humanity isn't aware of, and stubbornly
refused to be made aware of. The various TV shows and movies
never once expressed the true horror and fear confronting
what the unknown supernatural world entails: to discover that

the whole of humanity is living a lie; that the fabric of society is
being manipulated by alien monsters. No one could help him;
he could not even share his tale without being committed to a
mental hospital. He realized he was all alone; his brother dead,
and not a single person in the whole wide world knew the truth
and perhaps never will.
The burden of his misery was too much for him to handle.

He shoved the stray thoughts away, locking them deep behind
walls of hatred, pride and pain. He checked that his gun was
ready to fire again.
‘No time for self-pity’, Benny reasoned. ‘It's time for the hunt’.
He checked the kitchen; it was a fancy kitchen with a
professional stove and a variety of chef's cooking tools neatly
organized. Then he checked the fridge — no human body parts,
no unusual food stored. The detective breathed a sigh of relief.
Gun leading the way, he checked the pantry to make sure

petite, little me wasn't hiding there. Again, food products were
neatly ordered. Nothing out of the ordinary. He checked the
upstairs bedrooms. They were neatly ordered and cleaned out
of any personal belongings. That was when our clever detective