Hallier München
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When it comes to boogie-men, urban monsters and spook-stories amongst American-born crashers, there's a lot of talk about certain men. For instance, Bibb Graves. And the killer called El B.J. And you can be sure, there's sure as hell a lot of talk about Wesley Krumb. But somehow, when talk turns to Hallier München, most people shut the fuck up.

There are reasons for this, of course.

People like to speculate and talk shit about Mr. Graves because, well, he moonlights for Callus Detier Drogovich when he's not filling orders for Filthy Walter (or some other "Unnamed Cheney", possibly NASA), and these men all have well-earned reputations for being professional, perfunctory, and dangerous when pissed off. And people like to talk about El B.J., because the most fucked-up shit on the planet seems to drop into his lap every couple of months, and yet he's the calmest mother-fucker you'll ever meet. And there's plenty of chatter about Wes because, let's face it, he's a fucking demon-serving fucking lunatic seemingly just as likely to buy a guy a beer as he is to punch a man's head clean off his torso, and with the same casual smile on his face either way.

Seriously. Chet Awesome saw it happen.

But the problem with Hallier München is that he doesn't work for anyone but Dierdre Östermann, and nobody knows what the fuck she's up to in that creepy castle of hers, there on the rolling green hills on the other side of the Atlantic. That is, if she exists at all. Hell, some people say that she's the reason there hasn't been a British 'Crasher community since pre-WW2, and that Hallier München is the gun who pulled the trigger on that.

Or, maybe, let's put it this way: Bibb Graves makes it a point to have people talk about him, even while making, almost mechanically, absolutely certain that a hit can't be pinned to him. He genuinely likes the moment when he tells somebody that his name is Mr. Graves, and then they shit themselves a little. And for El B.J., it's just good business practice to have people telling scary stories about him around the camp-fire. He's the best protection from hatchetmen that money can buy, as anybody will tell you. And a guy like Wes, well, fuck: he just doesn't give a shit. He once picked up a cop and pitched the poor bastard through the windshield of his own squad-car and clear into the back seat, and that was before flipping the thing over while it was on fire.

Seriously. Chet Awesome saw it happen. Swear to god.

But if urban legend is to be believed, the man called Hallier München is the personal attack-dog of the evilest, wealthiest bitch in the whole wide world, and yet there isn't shit that anybody can say about him with absolute certainty. Amongst his various purported attributes are listed such things as invisibility to cameras, short-range teleportation, immunity to non-magical weapons, the ability to hear the next thirty-three seconds of what anyone in the world says after his name is spoken by them, and possibly the ability to make electronics stop working if he stares at them. Oh, and his heart has been replaced with something that looks like bits from a 1930's toaster oven. It glows a little.

Everyone knows that he can see in the dark, though. That's pretty much confirmed. And everybody TRULY in-the-know can tell you that he's not "invisible" to cameras - they just stop working around him. Which is probably where that tall-tale about him being able to turn off other electronics comes from. Or, maybe, it's from the time that he stopped an elevator from closing by yelling "Nein!" at it, but nobody believes that, because if he killed everybody in the building, who first told the story?

Anyway: if the whispers about Hallier München are to be believed, spoken by men who've woken up to finding him standing over their bed, he's the "North American Liason" for Mrs. Östermann, and he hates being sent here to fetch people. In fact, he's hated being sent here since his first mission … back in 1638.

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