Demon Hunter [COMPLETE]

Chapter 45 - Richie Returns

*Artie's P.O.V*

*Police Station, 2:30 am*

"It's great that we get some down time," Rosie declared, popping a potato chip in her mouth as she reclined in the chief's chair.

"I agree," I said to her, as I began sorting through my guns and labelling them. NONTHREATENING, THREATENING, and IMMEDIATE DEATH. Hopefully, I don't mix these labels up. "Yesterday was quite a crazy day for the both of us. I hope we don't get another event like that."

"You kidding? That's the most fun I had all week," she said with a wide grin on her face. "Man, I wish we got more action like that."

"Well, I don't. I know they were evil sickos...but a part of me thinks...no, knows that they were still my parents."

"You're kidding me, right?!" Rosie scoffed, "Artie, they disowned you and tried to kill you. If you ask me, their death was long overdue."

"Yeah, you're right..."

BANG!

We immediately turned to the transparent window where that unsettling noise came from.

To my absolute shock and horror, it was Richie! Well, a badly burnt, heavily disfigured Richie, but still Richie in the flesh.

Rosie screamed a bloodcurdling scream.

She scrambled to get her gun while I grabbed mine.

He banged repeatedly on the window.

So animalistic, I thought, disgusted. No human decency to even knock on a front door.

CRACK!

The window shattered as my visibly enraged father stood before my eyes, without anything holding him back now.

"Shoot him!" Rosie yelled, firing her gun at Richie, nonstop, but it seemed to do nothing.

I joined her, however my bullets had no effect either.

She looked at me, terrified.

"How the hell do we kill that thing?!"

Thing was the appropriate term to describe Richie. Barely alive, with flesh hanging off his body, he was a ghastly sight to behold. The type of monster that shows up in your nightmares whether you're young, old, or on the verge of death.

"I don't know," I admitted, as I ran over to the computer and typed into Google, "How do you kill a werewolf? Reddit."

I found a post and skimmed through the responses, including all the comments that had over -10, 000 downvotes.

"Well, what does it say?" Rosie shrieked, reloading her gun and resuming her useless firing session.

"Silver bullet to the heart got the most likes."

"What?!"

"A silver bullet to his heart, if he even has one, should do the trick."

It's just too bad that our guns are loaded with steel right now.

Our station has a couple of guns that fire silver however they're secured within a storage facility room that's more than ten minutes away. 

I used to have a loaded gun containing silver bullets on me, before chief stripped me of it (recently, in fact), telling me in a rather cruel tone, that I should be thankful that he's even letting me keep my other weapons. If you ask me, he just didn't want to waste silver, since it's a precious metal and cost big bucks. I'm talking in the...well, actually, I'm not exactly sure about the price tag or how many digits each ounce of silver costs. All I know is that silver is rare, while steel is so not.