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Whatever happened to all the monsters?
For as long as there have been people, there have been creatures who preyed on them. Lurking in the least-traveled parts of the forest, or hanging around on street corners in the worst parts of town; watching for the weak and the vulnerable, with hungry eyes . . . The drinkers of blood and the tearers of flesh, the things that reek of the tomb but aren’t nearly dead enough, the hunters and the liers in wait.
The really wild things, without conscience or limits.
Everyone knows the names: vampires, werewolves, ghouls. Monsters who preyed on Humanity for centuries, striking from the shadows and then disappearing back into the night . . . But as first gas and then electricity filled the world with light, shadows became harder to find and the night concealed less and less.
By the end of the nineteenth century, it had become clear to the monsters that they couldn’t hope to survive the sharp clear light of the scientific age. Growing mass communications meant everyone knew about garlic and wolfsbane, wooden stakes and silver bullets. So the monsters went underground, disappearing into the underworld of crime; civilization’s shadow. Looking for new ways to prey upon the weak and the vulnerable.
And everyone forgot that monsters had ever been real.
In the white-hot glare of the twenty-first century, no one believes in monsters any more. But they’re still here, more dangerous and more powerful than ever. Someone has to save us.
It takes a thief to catch a thief . . . And a monster to kill a monster.
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