Time to meet the wrecking crew

Greta’s back room smelled like cigar smoke, gun oil, and something old enough that Joey’s instincts told him not to ask questions about it.

The massive wooden table in the center of the room had been cleared off except for weapons, maps, and several glasses filled with a dark amber liquid Crystal refused to touch after Greta casually described it as “mostly whiskey.”

“Mostly?!” Crystal had shouted.

Greta ignored her.

Cassandra stood beside the table with her arms crossed while Joey leaned against the wall, trying not to stare too hard at the literal arsenal being unpacked in front of him.

Silver ammunition.

Holy water grenades.

Knives.

Runes.

A crossbow that looked like it belonged in a medieval war crime.

Crystal picked up a tiny silver sphere carefully.

“What does this do?”

Greta looked up from cleaning a revolver.

“Depends.”

“…Depends on what?”

“How many vampires are standing nearby.”

Crystal slowly put it back down.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.”

The bell above the front entrance jingled.

Then heavy footsteps followed.

Greta grinned immediately.

“Ah,” she rumbled. “The psychopaths are here.”

Joey straightened instinctively.

Three figures entered the back room.

And somehow—

every single one of them looked dangerous in completely different ways.

The first was enormous.

Not fat.

Not bulky.

Just massive.

At least six foot six with dark skin, broad shoulders, and hands that looked capable of crushing concrete. His shaved head reflected the dim overhead lights while silver scars crossed his throat and jaw like claw marks.

He wore a long black coat despite the heat outside and carried what Joey initially thought was a baseball bat.

Then he realized it was a steel war hammer.

The giant looked at Cassandra first.

Then nodded respectfully.

“Cass.”

“Malcolm.”

Greta gestured dramatically.

“Joey, Crystal—meet Malcolm Graves.”

Malcolm gave them a calm nod.

“Pleasure.”

Crystal blinked.

“That man talks like a funeral director.”

Malcolm looked at her.

“I was one.”

“…I’m sorry WHAT?”

Greta barked a laugh.

“Malcolm used to run a mortuary in Chicago. Then one night a nest of feral vampires tried using his funeral home as a feeding ground.”

Malcolm rested the hammer against his shoulder casually.

“They killed my staff.”

His voice remained calm.

Flat.

Which somehow made it worse.

“So I killed them back.”

Joey swallowed.

“…All of them?”

Malcolm finally smiled slightly.

“They stopped counting after twenty-three.”

Crystal whispered:

“Jesus Christ.”

“Close,” Greta replied. “But no.”

The second mercenary slid into the room almost silently behind Malcolm.

She was smaller than Cassandra, dressed in a dark leather jacket with fingerless gloves and combat boots. Her black hair had streaks of silver running through it despite her looking barely older than thirty.

A cigarette hung loosely from her lips.

Multiple knives were strapped openly across her body.

She looked Joey up and down once.

Then sighed dramatically.

“Oh no,” she said. “He’s adorable.”

Joey immediately pointed.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because you look like a golden retriever accidentally wandered into a vampire war,” she replied.

Crystal immediately snorted.

Greta gestured toward her next.

“This miserable creature is Valerie Voss.”

Valerie gave a lazy salute.

“Professional monster hunter. Semi-professional alcoholic.”

“You forgot emotionally unavailable disaster,” Malcolm rumbled.

Valerie pointed at him.

“You shut your giant haunted ass up.”

Joey blinked.

“Wait… you hunt monsters too?”

Valerie shrugged.

“Only the rude ones.”

Cassandra leaned slightly toward Joey.

“She specializes in killing werewolves.”

Joey looked at Valerie again.

“…You are much scarier now.”

“Thank you.”

Finally—

the third figure entered.

And immediately changed the mood of the room completely.

He looked young.

Too young.

Maybe twenty at most.

Messy blond hair.

Skinny build.

A hoodie.

Glasses.

He carried a backpack slung over one shoulder and looked more like a college student than a supernatural mercenary.

Crystal frowned.

“…Did Greta accidentally hire a barista?”

The young man looked offended.

“I heard that.”

Greta grinned wickedly.

“This is Elias.”

Elias waved awkwardly.

“Hi.”

Joey looked confused.

“…What exactly do you do?”

Elias adjusted his glasses nervously.

“I’m a technomancer.”

Silence.

Crystal blinked.

“…A what?”

“I do magic with technology.”

Longer silence.

Then Joey pointed.

“Absolutely not. Those are two things that should NOT go together.”

“They really shouldn’t,” Elias admitted. “But here we are.”

Greta clapped both massive hands together.

“Elias once trapped a demon inside a cryptocurrency mining server.”

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That caused three separate blackouts.”

“It was educational.”

Crystal stared blankly.

“…I’m having a stroke.”

Elias smiled sheepishly.

“I also do surveillance, warding, communications interception, and counter-tracking.”

Joey looked impressed despite himself.

“…Oh. Okay that’s actually cool.”

Elias brightened immediately.

“Thank you! Most people just call me a nerd.”

“You ARE a nerd,” Valerie said.

“Magic nerd,” Malcolm corrected.

Elias looked proud of that.

Greta moved toward the center of the table.

“Now,” she growled. “Business.”

The mood shifted instantly.

Maps were spread across the table.

Cassandra pointed toward Joey’s apartment building.

“The hunters already tested the perimeter once. They’ll come back heavier next time.”

Malcolm nodded.

“They’ll assume you’re isolated.”

Valerie lit another cigarette.

“Which means we make them regret existing.”

Crystal raised one hand carefully.

“Question.”

Everyone looked at her.

“…How likely is it that I die?”

Valerie tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Tonight specifically?”

“That answer is already terrible.”

Elias adjusted his glasses again.

“With the protections Greta sold Cassandra? Maybe twenty percent.”

Crystal looked horrified.

“TWENTY PERCENT?!”

“Actually pretty good odds,” Malcolm rumbled.

Joey looked at Cassandra.

“…How are these people making you seem normal?”

“I ask myself that often.”

Greta began handing out weapons calmly.

Malcolm took silver shells and loaded them methodically into a massive shotgun.

Valerie checked blades.

Elias pulled strange electronic components from his backpack that glowed faintly blue.

Joey watched the crew prepare with growing disbelief.

This was real now.

Not just weird supernatural flirting.

Not isolated danger.

War.

And Cassandra—

for the first time since he met her—

looked relieved not to carry it alone.

She caught him watching her.

Their eyes met briefly.

And through the bond Joey felt it clearly:

Trust.

Not complete.

Not careless.

But enough.

Enough that she had brought killers to protect him.

Greta finally shoved a wrapped bundle into Joey’s arms.

He looked down.

“…Why are you giving me the cursed machete?”

“Confidence,” Greta answered.

"What does it do?" Joey asked

Greta explained it was an Aztec weapon used in ceremonial sacrifice. It can kill anything alive or dead, but the spirits of all those sacrificed want to possess whoever is holding it. The charm Cassandra gave him will help protect him from the possession.

Valerie also added:

“And statistically speaking, someone always ends up needing a machete.”

“That does not comfort me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

Crystal looked around the room at the assembled monsters, mercenaries, vampires, and magical lunatics.

Then, slowly drank the rest of Greta’s “mostly whiskey” in one gulp.

“You know,” she muttered, “I really miss when my biggest problem was Joey forgetting extra ketchup packets.”

“I said I was sorry,” Joey replied automatically.

And somehow—

despite everything—

the room laughed.