Javier was born on September 30th, 1993 in San Antonio, Texas. His parents were both drug addicts and struggled with paying bills when he was born. For a formative part of his life, Javier lived in poverty with his biological parents. Once a week they would walk a few miles to the local Catholic church to eat a free dinner provided by the church. It was on one of these excursions that Javier had his first encounter with the supernatural, albeit unwittingly.
On a windy Sunday evening, Javier, 13 years of age at the time, was walking down a secluded alley heading toward St. Mary’s with his parents when they were stopped by a man with long black hair and a long, crimson overcoat. He approached Javier’s father first, a sinister smile adorning his otherwise pale facial features. With blinding speed, the man swiped his hand across the father’s neck, and blood began to spray outward from the wound. The man in the crimson coat opened his mouth and began to drink from the sudden fountain of blood, as Javier’s mother looked on in complete shock. After a few seconds, a shrill shriek came from her, but she too was quickly silenced. Little Javier watched on in horror, his body frozen from the suddenness of what had just happened. The man in crimson, his face covered in blood, turned and slowly looked at poor Javier, his next victim.
What happened next was nothing short of a miracle, at least in Javier’s eyes. As the man in crimson stood upright to prey on his next victim, a sickening, squishy thud echoed briefly through the alley, followed by a familiar voice quietly reciting a passage from the Bible. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood... but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” With a sharpened wooden stake protruding through his chest and leaking blood, the man in crimson fell to his knees, a surprised look on his face. Behind him stood a priest, one Javier was familiar with. It was the parish priest from St. Mary’s… an older gentleman with grey hair. He was in street clothes, and it took Javier a moment to recognize him.
“Father!” Javier exclaimed, running around the dead vampire to hug his savior. As the priest opened his arms, Javier buried his face into the man’s shoulder and began to wail, his screaming cries only suppressed by the fabric of the priest’s sweater.
Days later, things were explained to Javier… He would begin his training as a hunter shortly after this incident. Supported by the unknowing local congregation, Javier became quite a good hunter of the unnatural. He had his fair share of close calls, but after years of hunting throughout the city, San Antonio seemed to be well under control.
After much prayer and deliberation, Javier decided that it was time to move away from San Antonio. He began researching different places to continue his work, and landed upon the strange town of Wailing Rock. He read up on the city’s strange history and “legends” and decided that this was where the Holy Spirit was encouraging him to continue “the Lord’s work”.
Javier packed his things into a modified, black 1976 El Camino and began the journey toward Washington. It was time to bring a bit of heavenly truth and justice to the islands.