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Summary
As much as he'd like to pretend this isn't his problem, he's sure he's the only one who can help with this. The whole killing a werewolf thing. But, hey, he's retired. He isn't exactly a master of hunting, and he isn't sure he'd be able to protect himself against a werewolf, of all things.
A vampire would be different, but the brute force a werewolf holds? The thing would have him gutted in seconds. Tossed in the pile of lifeless bodies before he could even pull his gun out.
Truly, he's fucked.
OR
monster hunter michael robinavitch retires to rural nebraska, but is brought back into the lifestyle when countless people begin losing their lives in vicious "animal" attacks