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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/adorabletapeworm on 2024-09-11 23:48:24+00:00.

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It is with deep regret that I must announce that some self-proclaimed ‘monster hunters’ have arrived. This happens from time to time, and it’s always a headache.

(If you’re not familiar with what Orion Pest Control’s services are, it may help to start here.)

The differences between specialty pest control companies and ‘monster hunters’ will become clear as I describe the events of this week. To start, these aspiring Winchesters and Van Helsings go out of their way to pick fights with the atypical, sometimes without even a basic understanding of what they’re up against. This causes problems not just for them, but for those of us that have to do damage control afterwards.

Dealing with an infestation improperly only makes it worse. That’s true of all pests, regardless of if they’re typical or atypical. For example, most homeopathic or over-the-counter treatments for bed bugs are ineffective for the fact that they’re sneaky little bastards. In order to stop the infestation, the entire colony must be eliminated. It’s not enough to just kill every adult you see.

The reason for the impromptu bed bug PSA is because that’s what Orion was finishing up with when the ‘monster hunters’ rolled up in what had to be the most ridiculous vehicle I’d ever seen in my life.

Their incredibly badass transportation of choice was a motor home boasting a flaming skull spray painted on the side of it with their phone number, which I will not disclose. My jaw dropped, watching it in disbelief as it parked at a few houses over from where we were.

Reyna and Cerri had the honor of basking in the motor home’s glory with me, as well as cleaning up the mess its passengers would leave afterwards.

Cerri voiced my thoughts perfectly: “Is that a clown car?”

Anticipating that some nonsense was afoot, I joked, “Bet you five bucks they’re all wearing leather jackets!”

Reyna quickly said, “I’m not taking that bet. They’re definitely wearing leather jackets. And at least one of them has a cowboy hat. And possibly a katana.”

Sure enough, two large men emerged from their skull-emblazoned transport, clad in leather dusters. And one was, in fact, wearing a black cowboy hat.

Reyna muttered, “Huh. No katanas.”

Cerri was visibly cringing, “I take it you know these guys?”

I sighed, “No, I just know the type. Another group just like them tried to deal with a Dreamer a few years back and ended up making the entire situation several times worse, so… be ready to go to that house.”

“Worse how?” Reyna asked, loading equipment into the back of the truck.

“Rather than trying to catch and release the Dreamer, as we do, they tried to kill it. Unsuccessfully. In retaliation, the Dreamer ended up forcing everyone in the house into a comatose state until we could get it calmed down.” I explained.

She nodded slowly. “Great!”

When it comes to dealing with the atypical, it’s best to do so with knowledge and respect. Going into it with the mindset of ‘hunting monsters’ already puts you at a disadvantage. The Neighbors belong in this world just as much as we do. They’ve lived through and seen things we can only dream of. While they can be dangerous, they are also capable of great acts of kindness as well as all the gray areas in between.

On the subject of vigilantes, humanity has done the Neighbors pretty dirty in the past; there’s a part of me that can see why some of them hate us so much. We forced them to live in the Mounds. And now we take the world we forced them to give us for granted. The very least we could do to make up for it is not be complete dicks to them, if we can avoid it.

While my coworkers finished packing up, I called Victor, watching the house the vigilantes disappeared into for any signs of turmoil.

When I told him about the monster hunters, he said, “Yeah, I know about them. That homeowner called us not long after you three left. Tale as old as time: they pissed off a Housekeeper and didn’t like the answer I gave them. About an hour later, they called back all smug about how much cheaper it is to call those guys.”

Our services aren’t even that expensive, especially compared to some pest control companies. The client must be paying these guys in chicken nuggets.

“A Housekeeper?” I resisted the urge to groan. “Well, that thing’s going to transform.”

“Yup. If it does, just try to make sure it doesn’t kill anyone.” He replied, sounding exhausted.

While Reyna, Cerri, and I have been attending to Orion’s regular (and irregular) duties, he and Wes have been focused on the Gingerbread House. Namely, trying to track it down. But, just as Deirdre predicted, it seems to keep moving. One of them will smell something sickly sweet or find crumbs left behind from discarded confections, only to discover that they’re following a dead trail.

A few days back, when we reconvened after the Dead Duo’s search, Vic mentioned that they’d spotted black thorns wrapped around one of the trees decorated with cookies. That makes me wonder if the Hunters are doing the same thing Orion is. Iolo hasn’t mentioned anything about it in our sessions, but I could tell that the news of the gingerbread house had troubled him.

The good news is that, so far, we haven’t heard any reports of children going missing. We’ll do what we can to ensure it stays that way. And since our initial meeting, the Cookie Hag (for lack of a better term) has not tried to contact me. No more desserts have been left by my door.

Something I want to be clear on is that I’m not planning on doing that deal with the gingerbread house’s owner. Right now, the goal is just to get him to focus more on her than on me and in turn, use the threat of him finding her to keep her from luring any children to her home. The ultimate goal is to see if he considers her enough of a threat that driving her out would be sufficient in evening out my life debt to him.

I know that it’s risky and it’s not well thought out. Believe me, I know. It’s not ideal. But what other options do I have? (And no, inmates. Getting with Iolo is not an option.)

More on Iolo later. Sorry to jump around so much; a lot has happened since I last spoke to yinz. These vigilantes were the root of the chaos we’ve been contending with.

The one with the cowboy hat flew out of the front door like a bat out of hell. Amazingly enough, the hat stayed on his head. That was my cue to get my happy ass over there. I told the other two to join me once they were done loading up.

Cowboy Hat saw me and started shaking his head at me, “Ma’am, you need to leave! There is a very dangerous creature inside this house, but we’ve got it under- HEY!”

I walked right past him.

Fun fact: they did not have it under control.

As expected, the Housekeeper had transformed. The lights were flickering. The TV showed static, which oddly sounded like a distant chorus of women singing hymns. Shouting was audible over the hymns, followed by the sound of wood splintering.

I hurried, ignoring Cowboy Hat as he tried to grab me, presumably to pull me to safety. After weeks of dealing with Iolo’s strength, speed, and skill, it seemed as if this man was moving in slow motion. He looked bewildered as I easily evaded him as I sought out the source of the commotion.

The Housekeeper’s headless body was clawing at a closed door. From another room, I could hear the head cackling as its sharp, bloodied fingernails scraped more deep gashes into the wood. I tried to sneak up on it, keeping a hand on Ratcatcher.

The body abruptly froze. After a moment of stillness, it began to levitate, rising higher until its stump of a neck was nearly brushing the ceiling. It then turned slowly to face me, slumped and dangling as if it was hanging from a noose.

I swung Ratcatcher in an upward arc just as it dove for me, outstretched hands wiggling towards my eyes. It swerved away from the blade, but not quickly enough, earning a thin slice along its side.

More shouting. My coworkers had come in, much to Cowboy Hat’s increased distress. The body had landed roughly on the floor, skidding to a stop against the client’s white sofa.

“Find the head!” I yelled, racing towards the Housekeeper as its twitching hands groped at its injured side.

Afterwards, I heard Reyna’s and Cerri’s footsteps banging through the house regardless of Cowboy Hat’s protests.

Reyna knew what she was doing and while Cerri is obviously still learning, she seems to follow directions pretty well. I could count on them to deal with the head while I contended with the body.

Meanwhile, poor Cowboy Hat was left standing in the living room, dumbfounded, “Who are you people?!”

“Please just stay back!” I replied quickly, knowing that the transformed Housekeeper was about to be even angrier and more dangerous after being hurt.

Sure enough, a chair flew towards me as if thrown. I dropped down to avoid having my skull caved in by it, adrenaline warming my spine. Cowboy Hat swore and drew his gun as if it was going to do something.

“Sir, please put the gun away and find somewhere to hide!” I tried to be polite, I really did, but I didn’t trust this guy not to shoot me instead of the Housekeeper. And even if his aim was accurate, all he’d succeed in doing was pissing it off even more.

The Housekeeper then raised its arms, causing a shelf to tip over onto Cowboy …

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