Better off unknown.
awarding the world's greatest creeps killers
A brave man is a man that will have his heart torn to shreds repeatedly and continue to love again triumphantly. Cause it doesn’t matter if a dame shattered your soul. You just put all the pieces back together and make a new puzzle with it. A courageous man can take the beating a woman offers his heart.
When you meet a beautiful woman, it’s like stepping into the wrath of a hurricane. She is the single most wondrously marvelous event and at the same time threatening to the point she could wreck your entire life and leave you dying in the gutter if you let her.
A brave man is not a man that is not afraid. But a man that continues to be heroic even when he’s terrified out of wits. The hero without fear is the hero that never quits or gives up. Especially… when he feels immense fear.
I have often felt in my life that I am cursed to know only the pleasure of a woman that has already given her heart to another man, and to whom her sincere love belongs. I enter their rooms like Dracula. Sneaking in through the window or during the dreary midnight hours and feast on them in the dark. Like a blood sucking fiend. Relishing in the secret pleasure I am permitted to witness from my touch and the bite of my fangs in their necks.
It has been my dream to live a bohemian and possibly hedonistic life for as long as I have dreamed of the life I desire to live. Not that of my accustomed condition but of one that was long out of reach and only available in my astral adventures. I now claim it, in my daily reality each day. Writing it, into my existence. By means of mysticism and half-baked mental alchemies powered on studies in the occult and spirituality customs of arcane wisdom seekers and yogis. Particularly my devotion to the immense goddess Kali, under the veneration of Shiva Medusa. Queen to my resolve and will.
A wizard enters a dirty truck stop bathroom and kneels to the altar, then prays to the vomit and puke gods until he’s sobered enough to take more drugs and ingest another quart of liquor. His name is Merlin… I am not he, but I heed his teachings. If not in practice, then by means of study. Groovy.
“Doesn’t this feel, weird. To you?” Raf asks Akemi. He’s dressed in his uniform black denim jeans and red aloha shirt. Mohawk gnarly as ever.
Akemi glares at him playfully from across the limousine. She reaches for another bottle of champagne. “Weirder than our usual day to day weirder shit mysteries. I don’t think so. You should enjoy this. You’re getting your shine in the limelight you deserve. You’re a fucking legend in the mythic underground.”
Raf winces like it hurts to hear it. He recoils out of concern for the fact. Investigating weird shit and solving mysteries wasn’t supposed to be something that led to fame, it’s a job nobody wants. That most people don’t even know exists. The fact his writing for Mythical Monthly and association to the fabled Knights of Merlin has generated such an acclaim for himself, it is just now donning on him that maybe he should’ve remained unaffiliated, and anonymous to the world of creeps killers and weird hunters. Like he was before joining the sacred order of mythos knights.
“Merlin’s knights have been saving the world and defending the realm of mortals for literally centuries. We’re the first ones to be recognized for it. That’s fucking cool.”
Akemi’s excitement has not proven contagious. Raf frowns with a glum sense of being seen by far too many people.
“You really hate the spotlight that much?” Akemi giggles as she sips her champagne leisurely. “Can’t tell by how you dress or how your hair is.” She crosses one leg over the other and leans forward. Doing that thing where she stares right into his face like she can read his mind, and his soul.
Far as anybody knows telepathy isn’t a power she possesses but it would explain how she came to become the reigning “Queen of Games” over Shogi and Chess globally at the ages of nine, and twelve. It often seemed like she could read her opponent’s mind.
“They’re giving us the award for World’s Greatest Creeps Killers. How cool is that. I mean, this is the biggest award they give out. Sherlock Holmes was given it for slaying a chimera in 1901. The 2nd Van Helsing Afrika Cleopatra got it for stopping Count William’s rebellion and dismantling The Monster Society. They don’t even give it out very often. Only like once a generation, somebody manages to do something that earns the prestige of being world’s greatest creeps killers on the planet.” Akemi sips more of her champagne. Then refills her glass.
“Who’s all coming to this. Other than you and me?” Raf stares out the window as they approach the Prestige Theater, an old school stage play auditorium converted to more of an arena type convention center for big commercial event gatherings like this one being held tonight by the Peacoat Society.
Akemi smirks. “Well. You know Petra is. This is her shit. She’ll be fashionably late and arrive like a movie star.”
Raf can already imagine how extravagantly the queen of bloodsuckers will look as she steps onto the red carpet. He wonders what kind of dress she’ll wear. Her spooky one…? Or something else…
“Gomez won’t show.” Raf declares.
“Are you serious, the invisible man, fuck no. He didn’t even respond to my texts or emails. I think he is halfway across the world in Malaysia investigating an ancient curse on some dig site, last I heard from him.” Akemi scoffs and takes another drink. Draining her glass. *refills it*
“Tess wouldn’t come… I tried to get her to.” Raf actually laughs at the thought of her telling him, “Fuck off. Fuck you. Fuck no, I’m not going. Eat my ass.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m sure Merlin isn’t even conscious right now. So, it’ll just be us and Petra. And Dumas, of course. Will be with her.”
Raf nods as they reach the traffic surrounding the theater. There’s a caravan of cars backed up at the red carpet. Legendary creeps killers, Peacoats, and weird hunters of notable fame are stepping out of their rides to the Awards. Getting pictures snapped by the approved photographers.
“How can they even put something like this on?” Raf questions.
Akemi glances out the window then takes a quick sip from her champagne trying to drain it once more before they get out. “There’s a massive psychic block for like three or four miles around the theater so nobody that isn’t myth aware can even get near it. They have the city shut down streets, and block everything off. Surface dwellers don’t even know anything’s happening.”
“Peacoat Society seems more like a government, than a secret society. How much they control, and power they have.”
Akemi nods. Trying to brush off the harsh reality of Raf’s insight. Nobody cares to really admit how powerful the largest order of monster destroyers on earth actually is, or how much control the world has freely given over to them to protect the weak and keep us all safe from… creeps.
Akemi steps free from the limo as a theater attendant opens it for her. Her sleek black form fitting cocktail dress accentuates her every curve. The loveliness of her face and beauty is further amplified by her feminine grace and alluring sex appeal. She has long jet-black hair that spills down past her shoulders like a silk curtain and eyes that are sharp like daggers.
Raf follows behind her, exiting the limo reluctantly. Cameras are flashing from pics being snapped of them upon arrival. There’s a big buzz about the recipients of the world’s greatest creeps killers award being given out this year. Raf glances around searching for any signs of weird threats.
What he finds is swarms of photographers and fellow press from the myth media that have been permitted to attend this assembly of those who kill creeps. Peacoats are in a blockade formation around the building. You can spot men and women in peacoats as they stand in the shadows looming like mighty towers.
The original peacoats actually wore peacoats. These days it’s far less common to see but given the performative nature of this event and the spectacle of it, seems they’re pulling out all the stops and have the security in actual coats. It’s far more likely for coats to instead don Excalibur uniform jackets, with the “X” insignia patch on their arm sleeves.
Akemi grips Raf’s arm so he can’t run away and forces him to pose on the red carpet alongside her, as her date. She smiles as he growls at the cameras. His face a mask of contempt and dissatisfaction from the heightened sense of being perceived by such a large number of eyes consuming him like food.
The clamor around the two suddenly comes to an abrupt end, as the true star of the show arrives in a white limo… it’s Petra.
Before one of the attendants can open the door, it comes open on its own. Two long legs spring out. Followed by the wolfish face of Dumas. The massive man wolf is like seven feet tall and dressed in a fine tux. His fur is pure black all over his body and he has monstrously clawed hands and feet like a lycanthrope.
His pearly white fangs glisten as he smirks. His yellow eyes flickering in the glow of the camera flashes. He reaches towards the dark shadowy cave mouth of the limo to claim the outstretched hand of his love goddess.
Petra’s porcelain skin shines in the dazzling light under the flash of the cameras, as he helps her from the backseat. The vampiress has arrived to awe the crowd.
Interviews on the carpet stop as everyone turns to look, and then the carpet is cleared for her grand entrance. Including Raf and Akemi. Peacoats get to pushing them back and shoving them out of the way. Making Raf get immediately pissed off. Akemi holds him back from bum rushing the coats and starting a fist fight. She whispers in his ear, “Calm down. You have the bigger dick.”
Petra’s chalk white hue contrasts her raven black hair. She has it made up in a 1940s Hollywood starlet hairstyle. Her lipstick is bright red; her gown is coke white. Pearls dance about her neck as she smiles posing for the cameras.
A black minx coat is draped around her shoulders. Her and Dumas step forward like genuine royalty. Like classic film stars from the old time Hollywood. The cameras are fucking eating them up.
Time seems to slow down as they hit the carpet. Raf and Akemi watch from afar, as their fellow knights illuminate the scene with their spooky glamour macabre. The big bad man wolf and the queen of the blood suckers. A match made in the world of the monstrous. Denim and leather gods in movie star drag strutting like A-listers down the red carpet… what a sight.
Director Lucy Harker presented the award. She is a legendary creeps killer in her own right. Having received the award on behalf of the late great, Jet Blackstone. Five years later she received the award herself for her own efforts in creeps killing and was then appointed to head of the White Coat Division at Excalibur. Today she’s Director of the whole agency and sits high among the Coats.
Her hair has become a grayish white color, differing from the blonde of her youth that she is well known for. But the woman is still gorgeous. When she gave her speech she spoke of the true meaning of destroyerism. The art of monster destruction. And what it means to be a creeps killer of notable accomplishment, worthy of being awarded such a prestigious honor.
When she announced the Knights of Merlin as the winners she stated their names to the attendees: Tess Campbell, the 12-Gauge Babe. Petra Radblood, the Queen of the Blood Suckers. Dumas Howler, the Big Bad Wolf Man of the Wasteland. Akemi Fudo, the Queen of Games. Hector Gomez… the Invisible Man. Raf Mythos, the Hero Without Fear, and…
There was a loud thud. It echoed from the back of the theater. A door swinging open and hitting the wall as a man came through it.
Merlin stood there, barefoot. Dressed in dirty blue denim jeans torn in one knee, and a purple aloha shirt. His stringy white hair clung to his face in greasey clumps likely still smelling like vomit from his last prayer to the puke gods. He looked like fucking shit.
Like he’d crawled out of some skeevy alley where he’d been sucking crystal meth out of a glass dick. He reeked of alcohol and filth. The stench of a thousand benders and swimming in the sludge at the bottom of the garbage dump. The immortal wizard of legend. Merlin.
In his hand was a half drunken bottle of vodka gripped loosely like it could slip free from his fingers at any second. He mean-mugged the people seated in their seats as he shuffled down the walkway towards the stage.
“Fuck are you looking at?” He grumbled angrily as Lucy Harker scowled at him from the podium. She’d already taken a step back away from the microphone to hand off the award but now she was standing there watching him. The same as everybody else was.
Tess laughs and takes a swig from her can of beer, seated in the backroom of the bookstore in Camelot. She’s watching the Peacoat Awards on the mythical streaming service… Phantasm.
Merlin stumbles and nearly trips. An aisle attendant tries to help him but he shoves the kid and yells for him to fuck off.
Lucy steps back away from the podium after she reluctantly hands Merlin the shiny award. Raf, Akemi, Dumas and Petra look up at their mentor from the front row in admiration of his very presence.
The Ghost Brothers, Roach and Ziggy… start cheering from the crowd. Yelling out, “You’re a fucking legend!” Despite being nearly the same age as Lucy they haven’t aged beyond their mid to late 20s as a result of the Munchies Until You’re Dead curse. Which they still haven’t cured themselves of.
Merlin plops the award down on the podium, almost knocking it over. He drinks a big swig from his bottle. Then stares into the crowd. A plastered look of indignation over his eyes like a pair of sunglasses. “Do you think destroying monsters is something you should be awarding.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
“Vanquishing evil is not some fantasy, sport, or cheap fucking entertainment. It’s the courageous act of gallant knights. Mythical heroes of legend.” Merlin takes a new big swig to add to the one he took previously. “Gallantry and honor, chivalry and respect. Such… is the code of the gallant knight. To be daring and yet chivalrous… such… is the valor of the gallant knight.” He stumbles in place like he’s gonna topple over.
He raises the award in his fist. “This is a fucking joke.”
The theater is entirely silent. Save for the Ghost Brothers cheering from the crowd like they’re at a concert. “Fuck yeah! Tell these fuckers!” Roach shouts. Him and the wersyn Ziggy Psychward are grinning devilishly as they watch Merlin like they’re at a wrestling event. Roaring in applause for Merlin’s breach of formal etiquette, in open defiance of the Peacoats, and mockery of their spectacle.
Petra, Dumas, Raf and Akemi are stoic. Their faces are like statues. They sit quietly listening to the words of the wizard like children in a classroom before their teacher.
“You kill monsters and call them creeps. You praise yourselves for it and treat the act of bodily destruction as if it was a fucking achievement. Something to bestow awards and accolades for. You overlook the imps that get massacred in pursuit of creeps. The brutalization of those who live in darkness. In the shadows of Gilgamesh. Those living in benevolence. Mythics abiding by your… so-called… laws of monstrosity… but still get exterminated by your enforcers. Your coats.”
Merlin hocks a loogie on the stage in disgust…
“I did not form the sacred order of the knights to be given awards. I formed the order to defend the realm of Mankind from evil forces. The forces of which I see present, in this very room.”
It seems as though everybody’s eyes are facing forward. Refusing to look away or at one another, as if doing so might confess their acts of atrocity or expose them as the very villains the wizard is addressing.
“If being a mythos knight gets you famous, prestige, money and status in the world of creeps killers… you’re better off unknown. Fighting gallantly. A living myth.” He steps away from the podium. Leaving the award sitting there, as he shuffles back down the central aisle. The door slams open again. And the wizard leaves the theater, in silence.
He stumbles outside to the limo parked in front of the auditorium. It’s sitting there in waiting when he walks up to it. His driver opens the door, with gloved hands. Merlin tumbles forward into the backseat and his driver slams it closed behind him then goes to the driver seat and climbs in behind the wheel.
Gomez, the Invisible Man, is dressed like a classical chauffeur, in the uniform and cap yanked down low over his brow. A master of disguise…
He grips the steering wheel tightly before pulling away from the Prestige Theater and drives off.
Back inside, Lucy Harker takes the award down to the Knights seated in the front row and hands it over to Petra.
Petra graciously accepts it, smiling. She looks over at Raf and Akemi, holding it out to them, offering the symbol of their efforts in killing creeps. They both shake their head in decline. Petra nods and cradles the award to her chest like a stuffed animal as the man wolf Dumas puts his arm around her lovingly. The full attention of the room is on the four of them.
Lucy returns to her own seat. Allowing for the award show to continue…
Music begins to play as a human size chimpanzee saunters out. He’s dressed in a tux with a karate gi over it. He approaches the podium and uses the little step stool for shorter speakers to talk into the microphone, “Does anybody need a karate chimp for hire?” Everybody laughs.
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this work was authored by En Pandit Cole.
All rights are reserved to the author of this work - Aug. 2026. This work may not be reproduced in any form by outside parties that are not the author and without the author’s permission.
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