The fog covered the dirt ground and surrounded the small tavern high up on the mountain. The tavern was empty, except for one table. A man holding a mug in his hand was sitting across from a bearded man. The man was drinking coffee and was wearing a black cloak, which covered most of his face except for his strong chin.

“I am looking for someone…” A powerful voice said. It was a large figure, with giant muscles and had black eyes. “There you are.” The giant man said as he walked towards the cloak man.

“What do you want?” the cloak man asked.

“There is a $500,000 bounty on your head and I want a piece of the dough.” The giant man said as the cloak man burst into laughter.

“Good luck trying to get me.”

“With pleasure.”

“Bring it on big guy.” The cloak man said. The giant man charged as the cloak man disappeared into thin air. The giant man slammed into the chair as the cloak man reappeared behind him and clutched his arm and twisted it rapidly.

“My arm!” The giant man yelled in pain as a large silver gun rested on his head.

“Listen buddy,” the cloak man said holding the gun in his hand, “you have a few seconds left before I pull this trigger and destroy whatever is in that thick skull of yours. But you’re lucky I’m in a good mood and will give you a chance to run. I’m going to count to 10, and you’d better be out of here.” The giant man nodded and ran. “One…two…three…four…five…Ha, that takes care of him.”

“How did you do that?” the bearded man asked. The cloak man smirked and took a sip from his mug.

“Do what?” The cloak man replied casually.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” The bearded man yelled as he slammed the table. He closed his eyes for a mere second and the man in the cloak was gone. He felt a tap on his shoulder and a voice screamed,

“This?!” The bearded man leapt out of his seat and turned around. The cloak man was quite tall, and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, the bearded man knew that the cloak man was staring right at him. And then the cloak man disappeared into the air and was invisible. A violent wind passed the bearded man and he looked back at the table, where the cloak man was making loud slurping noises from his coffee mug. “So you want to know more about me?”

“Yes.” The bearded man replied.

“Alright.” The cloak man said. He removed the hood from his cloak and the bearded man fell back into his chair and gasped. The cloak man looked normal, with his coal hair, but what seemed to stand out the most were his eyes. They were fiery red, with a dot of white in the middle. “My name is Aiden, and I am not human.” The bearded man raised a brow and opened his jaw. “You seem bewildered.”

“I am.” The bearded man replied.

“Well obviously you can tell that I am not human.” Aiden said as he pointed to his eyes.

“What are you talking about? There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Are you kidding me? Should’ve seen your face when I took off my hood.”

“No, I didn’t even, wait, oh, your eyes are red.” The bearded man said as Aiden sighed. “So then what are you if you’re not human.”

“I belong to a race called Horaces.”

“Horaces?”

“A Horace is anyone who can alter the fourth dimension.”

“The fourth dimension.”

“Time. I can change time. Freeze it, speed it up, redo any mistakes, etc. For example, I just froze time right now, took a nap and woke up. I’m basically a walking VCR.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am I?” Aiden said as he picked up the mug, finished the coffee and hurled it through a glass window. The mug shattered and the glass window followed.

“What are you doing?!” the bearded man said as Aiden covered his mouth.

“Shh…” Aiden said softly as the mug’s shattered pieces formed back together and landed on the table. The window’s glass formed back together and the bearded man’s eyes opened wide open. The bearded man looked at Aiden, who sat down and took a sip of his coffee. “Want some?”

“How man Horaces are there?” the bearded man asked.

“Two to my knowledge.”

“Who’s the other Horace?”

“I prefer if we don’t speak about him. Ok?” Aiden said as the bearded man nodded.

“So what do you do? Do you have a profession?” the bearded man asked.

“Do you consider taking a pistol and a sword and blowing monster’s heads off a profession?”

“Wait a minute. You’re a hunter?”

“Hunter sounds too uncivilized. We are decent people here, and the term that is most refined would be a slayer.”

“So there are monsters?”

“Yes monsters, creatures, children of the night. Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, you know, all those fun stuff you can find in Vincent Price’s closet.”

“I see, all those ghost stuff.”

“No, no ghosts.”

“Why not?”

“Cause there is no such thing you moron.”

“So how do you stop them?”

“See this?” Aiden said as he pulled out a large gun. “This is a .50 Desert Eagle. This baby can blow your brains out of your skull all the way to the moon. One shot with this to the head, and the monster is dead.” Aiden put the gun away and pulled out a very large sword. “This here is the gun’s sidekick, the Angus Calhoun, 42 inches of stainless steel, crafted by yours truly, has a sharp tip and rugged edges, with a gold holder and a ruby jewel on it.” Aiden stated and started swinging the sword around.

“Why do you have a sword if you have a gun?”

“Cause swords are cool you idiot.”

“So how does one become a Horace?”

“Well that’s my story. The main story I wish to tell. Be prepared for the unbelievable…”