â Coffeeâs fresh. Pie came out of the oven twenty minutes ago. If youâre looking for trouble, Iâd appreciate it if you kept it outside.
Name: Todd Dumont Age: 49 Pronouns: he/him Species: Hunter Faction: GOI (Global Occult Intelligence) Occupation: Co-owner & Cook at Dumont Diner | GOI Hunter Hometown: Montana Sexuality: Straight Relationship Status: Single (though if coffee wins your heart, youâre already halfway there.)
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I. THE BOY IN THE TRUCK
Every hunt began the same way: the crackle of a radio, his father on his feet before the message was even finished, shotgun already in hand. Todd was always a step behind him, moving like a shadow through years of observation and muscle memory. He didnât have to ask what happened, the boy never did; there was no time to waste when a life was in danger. And this was no exception. A hunter never really knows what kind of danger theyâll face; sometimes itâs a single beast out of control, other times itâs a massacre. Todd had seen far too many things from a young age, had mended more broken bones or bleeding wounds than any other young kid should; when his father approached him with a bleeding kid torn apart by claws, half-conscious but alive, his only reflex was to grab the blanket and wrap it around him. Pulse. Breathing. Bleeding. Keep him warm. The usual. He didnât think the kid would survive the night. He did.
II. A HUNTERâS SON
Life had never been soft with Todd. As far back as he could remember⌠the boy knew his father was a presence of fear rather than respect, to stay quiet, answer with a quick âYessir,â and have a cold beer waiting by the time his father stepped through the door. Other hunters had mentioned to him that his father didnât used to be like that; cold and hard as a rock, but rather that things changed after his motherâs passing from cancer. The one monster he couldnât protect her from. Todd always figured grief hollowed him out from the inside. His father couldnât offer comfort. He offered competence instead. A sharpened knife left on the workbench. Boots repaired before the next hunt. It wasnât affection, but to a boy who didnât know any different, it looked close enough. At first, holding a shotgun that felt heavier than he was, was difficult, and he missed most of the shots in the training area, until one night, on the way home, cold and tired, his father said under his breath âIf you canât shoot a gun properly, you will never protect those you need toâ; and that clicked something in Todd. From that day on, Todd made sure to land the shot, to follow the trail, to watch his father closely and study his every move. He inherited his fatherâs discipline. Never his cruelty.
III. KEEPING THE HOUSE STANDING
Another handful of beans went into the stew. Another plate appeared on the table. By the end of the week, Lucasâ torn jacket had been hemmed, the loose spring in his bed repaired, and an extra toothbrush quietly found its place beside Toddâs. Silence had settled into the house years before Lucas ever arrived. Every slammed cupboard, every heavy footstep, every creak of the floorboards meant something. Lucas was loud. Reckless. Emotional. Todd understood every bit of it. He tried to teach Lucas the rules heâd grown up memorizing. Which floorboards creaked. Which moods meant staying invisible. When to disappear before the first bottle was empty. The first slap changed something in Todd. From that night on, he was no longer just a son. He became a shield. Some nights ended with quiet apologies and slammed doors. Others ended with blood on the bathroom tiles, antiseptic on scraped knuckles, and Lucas still asleep upstairs. One beer became two. Two became five. The older man was a ticking bomb, ready to explode over the smallest thing; it didnât help when Lucas was a little louder at times. Excuses became second nature. Fell off the roof. Took a bad hit during training. Slipped carrying firewood. The nurses stopped pretending to believe them long before Todd stopped telling them.More than once, Todd considered reporting his father, when the beatings were too hard and the bruises on Lucasâ face were too purple; but where would they go? The thought of getting separated from his brother scared him more than anything else. Wounds were stitched before they could fester. Lunches packed before sunrise. Homework checked after dinner. Lucasâ favorite snacks somehow always found their way back into the cupboard. Dinners were timed around the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Empty beer bottles counted before deciding whether it was safe to stay in the living room. The front door never opened without Todd already knowing what kind of night waited on the other side. When Lucas lost his hearing, something broke inside Todd; as the older brother, as the one who was supposed to protect and take care of his little brother. The guilt never really healed. Every dead hearing aid battery. Every missed word. Every time Lucas had to ask someone to repeat themselvesIt was still there. So they learned ASL together. Insurance paperwork became another chore. Hearing aids were charged every night beside Toddâs phone. The world had already taken enough from Lucas. Trying, every single day, to give Lucas something worth smiling about.
IV. THE MAN HE BECAME
It was no surprise that the relationship between the father and his sons had quickly strained, to the point it wasnât a family unit, but rather three strangers sharing a roof together. It didnât help that their fatherâs drinking got to a point that the man reeked of beer and whiskey. Finding him drunk and slouched on a chair was a sight Todd was used to seeing, sadly. When a house down the street went up for sale it was a no-brainer; both brothers needed a fresh start and for once, Todd didnât want to be in charge of the manâs wellbeing. Getting a routine going between him and Lucas wasnât easy, but the peace of mind was worth it. He knew they were different, but when it was just the two of them, Todd and Lucas were polar opposites; yet somehow they always worked. And this was more visible when it was hunting season. Some hunters lived for the chase. Others enjoyed the kill. Todd enjoyed neither. He was simply good at it. Quietly. Unsettlingly so. The louder a hunt became, the quieter Todd got. But his crew knew the hunt was officially over when Todd started complaining about whose turn it was to buy breakfast, usually followed by complaints that nobody ever made decent coffee anymore. With years of experience behind him, the man had learned from a very young age that the fewer mistakes in a hunt meant more innocent lives were spared. Hunting wasnât a hobby or a sport, or his job; it was a duty. His experience grew into a reputation. His reputation wasnât built on body counts. It was built on making sure everyone came home.
V. WHAT HUNTERS DONâT SEE
Sunday mornings smelled like pancakes long before anyone else was awake. The first time Lucas shaved, Todd stood behind him with one hand on the sink and the other ready with toilet paper for the cuts he insisted wouldnât happen. Half the house only stayed standing because Todd refused to believe anything beyond repair. He knew Lucas took one more spoonful of sugar after bad hunts. He knew the difference between tired silence and hurting silence. Knew which jokes would make him laugh and which ones would only earn an eye roll. Knew that no matter how old Lucas got, heâd still steal bacon off Toddâs plate if given the chance. Winter meant stew. Summer meant grilling outside. Rain meant soup whether Lucas wanted it or not. He was the first to crack a joke when tensions ran high, or after when his men were around the fire debriefing the day. He didnât just make sure his men were safe, but that they were okay, too. Because he knew anyone was just one bad day away from becoming the worst version of themselves. Fear always looked the same, no matter what wore it. Species never impressed Todd much. Character did. But if someoneâs character put innocent lives at risk, his shotgun was already in his hands.
VI. THE DINER
When Dumont Diner came to life, it was easier for Todd to find his place in Eden Ros. Word quickly spread of the two brothers, their diner and the best roast dinner you could get in town. Hunters complain over drinks. Locals gossip over coffee. Supernaturals and humans alike let their guard down around someone who seems more interested in cleaning a counter than digging into their business. Itâs useful. Information wins more fights than bullets ever will. Besides, everyone needs somewhere they can sit for ten minutes and pretend the world isnât ending. People walked through the doors for the burgers, but stayed for the conversations and Toddâs warm smile. He knew who took their coffee black. Who only came in after bad hunts. Which waitress had an exam coming up. Which hunter always ordered pie after burying someone. One glance at a customerâs face was usually enough. He knew to brew the coffee a little stronger or to fetch an extra slice of banana pie. More often than not, he was right. The regulars liked to joke that the coffee wasnât the reason they kept coming back.
VII. THE FUNERAL
Everything changed when hunters came to the diner one day and told him his father was found dead. There wasnât much time to grieve. The diner still had to open. Bills still had to be paid. Lucas still needed him. The funeral still had to happen. But even if he sat at night with a beer in his hand, he truly couldnât bring himself to feel anything that wasnât bittersweet about his father. Todd spent years convincing himself his father loved him. Not because he was told. Because every winter, his gloves mysteriously disappeared from the drying rack and came back stitched before the next hunt. Because his father trained him. Fed him. Fixed his gun. Made sure he could survive. He called it love because he didnât know what else to call it. Only as an adult did he realize⌠Love wasnât supposed to hurt that much. It didnât help that rumors began spreading about hunters getting killed. His father had been one of the best hunters Todd had ever known. Whoever killed him knew what they were doing. Hunters didnât die like that by accident. Todd had spent his whole life believing that if he worked hard enough, planned well enough, stayed calm enough, he could keep the people he loved alive. Standing over his fatherâs grave, dirt clinging to his boots, Todd realized there were some things experience couldnât prepare you for. For the first time in a very long time⌠He wasnât sure he knew how to keep everyone safe. And that frightened him far more than whatever was waiting out there in the dark.
