Bud Dearborne hated demons, faggots, dykes, vampires, werewolves, fairies, hoity toity northerners, and self righteous southerners. Everything on the spectrum that was different than his pasty skin and conservative world view he hated. Hatred ran deep in his family from his father beating his mother every night for one indiscretion with a vampire to his father's head being ripped off in front of him by a bearded demon that took his mother away in the middle of the night. He was twelve then and old enough to know the difference between right and wrong as he took his dead father's side. His mother was a whore then and she would forever be one in his eyes. Now, at thirty three for most of his life he lived in Bon Temp a small narrow minded town he began to call home when his uncle, on his father's side, adopted him raising him into the bigot he was today. That's what they liked to call him, but he was a crusader for all things that weren't supernatural or superficial. His long bear, red scraggily hair, and his beer belly were all part of a personal protest against society's shallow ideals on beauty. They could all kiss his ass.
When he put down his first supernatural he knew that he was meant for greater things. A small town boy with his history, his roots, his ambition to create order in a world of chaos—this was his duty. The vampire was attacking an innocent girl. He had her pinned against a wall outside of a bar he usually frequented. There was a small crowd surrounding them at a safe distance. Two sheets to the wind he sobered quickly growing angry no one was helping and even angrier that the vampire had the audacity to think that no one would do anything about it. One on one in his conditions there wasn't much he could do. With shaking hands unsure about his plan to help he put one foot in front of the other until they made it to his car where he caressed his grill. It was made of silver. When he started the ignition he contemplated driving away but the vampire had let go now and the girl was slumped on the brick sliding to ground half conscious with her blood still warm staining his mouth.
That night when he killed his first supernatural by his own accounts he felt anger rush through him, later on he would call it the spirit, to appeal to a broader audience when recruiting. Though, he'd lived with anger long enough to make the sensation unmistakable.
"Die demon die," he whispered putting on his seatbelt on the lookout for his opening.
The crowd of people part miraculously getting out of his way as he pushed his foot hard down on the accelerator speeding towards the smiling vampire. He didn't move opening his arms welcoming Bud's 4x4 with open arms. The drunken man smiled pushing his truck until it impact with the beast and then the wall behind him.
Eye witness accounts say he wasn't out for more than a few minutes. No one moved to help him because they were all in shock. When he woke he raised his head from the steering wheel. Blood dripped onto his jeans. Frowning he touched his head for the source examining the red coating his fingers from a gash above his eye.
"Shit," he breathed staring at it. For a moment he forgot where he was and what he was doing until he heard the shrill curses of vampire. Bud smelled burning flesh. A satisfied smiled warmed his face when he saw beyond the mess he made of his car the vampire stuck and in pain.
He went into his truck as a loud mouthed drunk who told the world his issues about how it was going to hell never really doing anything about it except for shooting hateful glares or words to whomever he didn't like. Pushing his door open he exited a legend in the making. Pulling a machete from behind his seat he basked in winning before he cut that nameless vampire's head off.
Word spread quickly and in one unassuming night he became enemy and hero and his ordinary life was no longer ordinary. He began recruiting though most people sought him out the man who wasn't afraid of this super species who for the longest time had entertained them in folklore and books and movies. He called his regime the Hawks reliving his football days as a running back for their small Louisiana high school.
He had come a long way from being a regular at a bar with no ambition to a leader, a hero, a voice for the people. And he never let it get to his head insisting everyone call him Bud. They were all the same him and his followers just trying to make it in a world that just getting smaller and smaller from the supernatural infestation. For the longest time it felt like they didn't have much of a chance to make a dent in their numbers. Until a vampire surrendered himself to their ranks, a strong vampire that didn't take much effort to restrain because Bud supposed on some level he knew that his unnaturalness didn't was an abomination.
"Godric asked for you," Bud was pulled from his thoughts when his second Phillip, a tall rotund man, they'd come to expect shouldering a rifle wherever he went.
Chewing on his bacon the older man nodded his head turning back to his breakfast. No, supernatural summoned him. He'd make time for the vampire when he was done his rounds. His fraction made a home at his family bar to train and live openly and freely hating and conspiring against demon forces. He built a sanctuary surrounded by grass and trees with small compounds that catered to the soldiers and their families. Everyone existed to have a part in this war. No child went without training on firearms and explosives and women were given a specific task to care for the needs of the entire community.
Bud hated the word cult. They were an army a resistance against the tyranny of anyone who wanted to push their open minded beliefs on them when they had the god given right to hate and kill if they felt threatened.
"You want some eggs?" the cook holding a pan ready if Bud wanted more.
The leader shook his head wiping his mouth with a napkin and leaving his dishes to be cleaned up after him, "no thank you." He gave her a smile.
His first order of business was to check on the children. Most had been taken out of the public schools so their minds wouldn't be tainted by the kids whose parents preached tolerance. They were basically sheep going along with the government who were probably using vampires in top secret projects that catered to their political goals without the American public in mind. It made him sick to his stomach to think about it as he descended the steps of his farmhouse to the barn renovated into a school. They were lucky to have at least borrowed some teachers from the school who didn't mind relieving the sugar coated history of America and tell young minds the truth.
"American's have a long history of being underestimated the Civil War a great victory for us against a large intimidating power," Pamela stopped her lesson to acknowledge their leader. She pushed up her red rimmed glasses pressing the palm of her right hand against the hairs on her bun to make sure they were in place. "Children," she announced, "pay your respects," she gushed to their fearless leader who made his way through the benches that surrounded Pam in a circle of enraptured minds.
"No , no no," he held his hands up to stop the teacher from gushing fighting his embarrassment.
She was his favorite, a tall glass of water with a brain to boot. Pam was popular amongst the children and men and her sunny disposition endeared some of the women who weren't intimidated by her presence. "Continue," he encouraged her taking a seat in the front with the smaller children looking as enamored as they were when she continued her lesson on the resilience of the human spirit.
She wore a pink sweater rolled up to her forearms with a white blouse and a matching pink skirt that ended passed her knees. She was a really lady in Bud's eyes the epitome of a perfect housewife with the presence of mind to have self respect for herself. He loved watching her. It was one of the main reasons he made a point to come to the school when he knew it was time for a history lesson. At times if felt like he was listening to an impassioned speech and then she would corroborate it with a proud historical moment. In his opinion the lesson ended all too soon for his tastes, but he was happy to have her to himself when questions about the lesson were answered and the last straggler disappeared with one last look for his adolescent daydreams.
"What do I owe this visit?" Pam asked as she cleaned the chalk board.
When she didn't get an answer she turned her body partially to her fearless leader, "Mr. Dearborne."
"Bud," he rushed out dragging his eyes from his boots, "how many time I got to tell you to call me that?" he rubbed the back of his neck.
Pam shrugged, "you are an authority Bud and I only mean to give you the respect you deserve," she reasoned sweetly.
"Well I ain't nothing but a man with a simple name that from here on I expect you to use."
Pam nodded indulgently.
"Try it out," then older man insisted, "It's pretty easy child's play for a think tank like yourself."
Pam dipped her head and turned to her board again cleaning a spot she'd already erased Bud noticed. He liked the affect he had on her, "I done embarrassed you I'm sorry."
"No," she put away the eraser and began to collect her satchel, "I'm…thank you Bud," she stated.
"Why I ain't done nothing to deserve it."
"For having the courage to build this and letting me be part of it."
"You are the one doing us a favor," he rushed knowing that most of their support came from volunteers and donations. "I was wondering if you were going to the picnic Saturday?"
"Yes," Pam nodded holding her satchel with both hands giving him a demure picture that seemed to be missing something vital, a ring.
"So am I," he stated proudly.
"Of course you are it's in your honor," she reminded him.
He nodded foolishly, "yea I know. I don't know why they'd want to do something like that."
Pam reached out to the shoulder of his green and gray plaid shirt retrieving a straw of hay, "I do," she said meaningfully pleased to see him blush.
Deciding that it was now or never as he hooked his fingers in his belt unable to meet her eyes, he was surprised he could keep his head up. "The only honor I'm interested in is having you accompany me if that's alright with you."
Pam's mouth parted slightly in shock, "you have your pick, Bud," she said his name deliberately, "you sure you want to take me?"
Pam was a fairly new member. A rose that everyone wanted to touch and be around just to inhale her, but no one dared to make a move because it was clear their leader had his sights on her. He was taking his time because he was also a warm blooded man with insecurities heightened by the presence of a beautiful woman. And he was self aware to know that outside of his station in their small resistance he didn't have much to offer a woman especially not one as enchanting as Pamela De Beaufort. He decided this morning upon realizing he was building an empire that while he had loyalty and love and he wanted more, a warm body and a smile to share this all with. He went a long way with his hatred but there were times he wondered if there was more to it after each kill.
"I want you," his tone was firm, "to be on my arm, no one else."
"Very well," she swallowed nervously, "I accept."
"Really?" Pam giggled and he straightened up bottling his unchecked excitement, "I mean good. I'll pick you up at y our home around eight?"
"I'm looking forward to it."