Jason Blackstreak, and His First Night in Abandon Hope

I galloped into this little Wild West town called “Abandon Hope”, just before sunset, with a package ready to be dropped off. Thankfully, no one had seen me; a horse wandering the road alone might have caught the eye of an odd cowboy, but thankfully I didn’t have to worry about that as I approached the town, I found a nice secluded spot behind a hill to transform back into a human. From there, all I had to do was slip on the clothes I was carrying in my bag, and find the saloon.

Before we get on with my story, I should probably establish what I am. I'm a Skinwalker; my mother was a Navajo witch who used a spell to make me possessed with a Skinwalker spirit from an early age. Ever since childhood, I had the power to transform into animals. Well, any animal native to the American Southwest at least. I've tried transforming into things like giraffes and tigers before, but it never worked.

After finding the saloon (which was pretty easy; all I had to do was follow the sound of piano music and drunken shouting), I walked up to the first woman I saw in it, a cute little Irish looking woman.

“Ma’am, is there an Oliver Munny here?” I asked.

“Sorry sir, but the manager doesn’t see just anyone.” She said. “Afraid you’re gonna have to give a reason why you’re here.”

“I have a delivery.” I responded.

“A delivery? Why, you certainly don’t look like no postman.” She teased.

“Not that kind of delivery.” I said. “One that’s best kept off books.”

Her expression quickly changed from playful to serious. “Wait at the bar, he’ll be out shortly.”

When Iva came back, she was escorting a man who stank of cigar smoke, whiskey, and sweat. I’d never met him before, but I instantly knew this was the guy.

“You Jason Blackstreak?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” I said as my client took a seat. My last name was actually Tsinajinnie, but white people generally didn’t want to learn to pronounce that, so I mostly just used its English translation.

I then reached into my satchel and pulled out an artifact brought all the way from the underground markets of Guatemala.

“Here you go, a Mayan fertility necklace.” I explained. “As long as you’re wearing this, you’ll never be soft.”

He seemed a bit angry that I said that, but ultimately didn’t do anything about it. Instead, he simply put on the necklace and exclaimed “Lord, I can feel it working already.”

As I explained, this deal was one that was best left off the books. Magical artifacts were banned for private use, but out in the Wild West, a few minor magical trinkets here and there wouldn’t cause much of a fuss. Still, best to keep such things off record, just in case a lazy lawman felt like making a bullshit arrest for the overtime pay.

He turned to the Irish looking woman and said “Iva, get me a blonde, and get me one right now.”

“No need to rush.” I said. “The magic in the necklace won’t wear off, you’ll have as long as you…”

He clearly stopped paying attention to my instructions once Iva presented him with a girl. But before he could go back upstairs with her, I stood in between them and said “Hold your horses; I still need to get paid.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like at least $8 worth of silver. Which I was particularly happy about, since the artifact only cost $5.

“Keep the change, I don’t care.” He said as he left to go upstairs.

I’d have preferred cash, but it wasn’t worth making a big deal out of. I knew any bank could exchange it for cash the next morning.

I decided there was no need to rush home, so I stayed behind. I spent the next hour or so drinking beer and playing poker. And then, the evening fun suddenly ground to a halt.

Someone ran inside screaming “ZOMBIES!”

I wasn’t terribly surprised. I knew zombie outbreaks sometimes happened out West. What did surprise me though was how many. I looked out the window to see what looked like hundreds of them, and they were all over town. And some were headed right for the saloon.

“WEAPONS AT THE READY!” Iva shouted as all the patrons and staff began to draw their guns, but I knew it wasn’t going to be enough. The bartender had a shotgun underneath the bar, but everyone else just had handguns.

I normally didn’t transform in front of people, but I knew it was now or never. So right there, in the middle of the saloon, I transformed into the most powerful animal I coul; a bison.

The locals started looking at me, and some were clearly assessing if I was a threat, but before my mouth transformed, I managed to say “Don’t worry, I’m on your side.”

I then charged out of that saloon as a 2,000 pound bison moving at 35 miles per hour. I must’ve taken out at least forty zombies with my initial charge, but that wasn’t even the most important thing. The most important thing was that I distracted the zombies.

Being in an animal state, I was immune to the zombie attacks. If I was still in my human form, I’d be turned by now because of all their bites and scratches. But as a bison, they were about as harmful as simple sand gnats.

While the zombies were trying to subdue me, the town’s people fought back. Iva led the charge, running out the saloon wielding a pair of derringer pistols.

She mercilessly shot any zombies she came across. Other townspeople began to join her. A Native American man emerged from a blacksmith shop wielding a pair of tomahawks. The way he fought with them was nothing short of remarkable; he approached a trio of zombies, first by throwing a tomahawk at one of their heads. Then, as the other two started stumbling towards him, he stepped forward and struck another one, splitting its skull right in two. He then ran back, picked up the tomahawk he threw at the first zombie, and took out the last of them. It was truly one of the most impressive combat displays I’ve ever seen.

With me continuing to distract the zombies by continuing to charge, the townspeople and I were starting to make a real dent in the horde.

____________________________

We fought them for hours. Many of the survivors, at least in our part of the town, had formed a makeshift base out of the saloon; not for drinking and gambling, but just so that we could start fighting in shifts. Men and women would go out, fight until they were practically unable to fight any longer, and then go back in the saloon to recover and get some water before going back out once thye were ready. It wasn’t a great system, but we were on track to win the fight.

That was, until I sensed werewolves.

“Shit.” I thought to myself once I smelled them coming. Thankfully, they smelled at least a mile away.

I went back to the saloon and transformed into a human.

“Werewolves are coming!” I shouted. “I smelled them coming towards us; the scent of zombies must be attracting them!”

“No worries.” Iva said. “We have silver weapons, we should be able to hold them off."

She then looked out the window to see that there was still a decent amount of zombies in the town. "You know, I think we can make this work for our advantage."

I transformed into a grizzly bear: grizzlies have the best sense of smell of any animal in my arsenal. Then, I took a position on the roof of the saloon. From up there, I could practically see with my nose, and I could see great distances.

“Perfect.” Iva said. We had a perfect plan in the works.

I sniffed the air every few seconds, keeping my lock on the pack. When I could smell them approaching, I stomped on the roof, which Iva knew was the signal. shouted “EVERYONE, INSIDE!”

Once she did, all the folks who were outside fighting the zombies came rushing in. The moment everyone was inside, we put the barricades back up, keeping all the zombies out.

The barricades wouldn’t hold for long, not against so many, but they didn’t have to. Because minutes later, the werewolves arrived, and once they did, it was a full on feeding frenzy. Most of the remaining zombie horde were quickly chewed up and eaten. By the end, only a handful of zombies remained. It was a truly gruesome sight that would’ve been horrifying, if not for the fact that the werewolves were saving us.

Well, they were saving us at that moment. Once their supply of zombies began to run dry, they quickly started sniffing for more meat. And they quickly found it, in the saloon.

I leapt off the roof of the saloon, landing right on top of the pack’s alpha. I knew I could take him out, but there were at least twenty others in the pack, I couldn’t possibly take them all out on my own. Thankfully, I didn’t have to.

Once again, Iva led the charge. She used silver bullets to start blasting at werewolves. Even the Native American man had a silver tomahawk that he threw at one of them, killing it instantly by landing it right at the beast’s heart.

The pack’s alpha pushed me off of me and started clawing at my belly. It then tried to bite my neck, which would’ve killed me, but I pushed it off of me and then swiped at its head. My claws tore open half of its face, leaving it blind in one eye. It then retreated back a bit, but not to leave. All it wanted to do was size me up.

I stepped back a bit and got in a good fighting position. From there, we were like a pair of boxers in the middle of an intense round; all we had to do was start feeling each other out.

It tried to swipe at me, but I kept deflecting its blows. Then, it got cocky and tried to pounce on me. I stepped in to meet him full force, and then got him on the ground. Before it could get up, I mounted on top of it, and while there, I bit into his neck, breaking it with a single bite.

Once the alpha was dead, most of the werewolves ran back into the desert. A few stayed behind, and they were easily shot dead by the townsfolk, but most of the werewolves knew this battle was a foregone conclusion and just ran away.

After I was sure it was safe (relatively; there were still a few straggling zombies, but not enough to put me in any real danger), I then transformed back into a human, and went into the bar to get a much needed drink. As I sat down, Oliver Munny approached me.

“That was real impressive, what you two did tonight.” He started.

“Thanks.” I said as I poured myself a glass of beer.

“You know, I could use someone like you around here.” He said. “Abandon Hope can be a dangerous town sometimes. Lots of vampires and werewolves around here.”

I considered it. I then said “Alright, but fair warning, I don’t come cheap.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want a cheap bodyguard, not in these parts.” He said.

“The bit of silver I paid you with earlier. Pennies compared to what’s in my fault. If you are willing to stick around and be my personal protection, a good portion of it can be yours.”

I thought for a moment and said “Deal.”

The Gun Mage Came To Town

October 31st, 1856, an hour before sunset.

Louis de Keyser rode into the small mining town of Abandon Hope, the town’s silver painted sign swinging in the evening breeze. The sky was ablaze in reds and oranges as the sun was slowly sinking. The town had a large main street, it was dirt but widen enough for a wagon train to turn a full circle.

Louis dismounted and walked Voedsel, his tired Clydesdale, up the road. Most of the stores were closed or closing. The Silver Bank was closed but had an armed guard sitting in a rocking chair on the porch who eyeballed him. Louis motioned for the horse to stop, and he walked towards the guard.

“That’s about far enough, mister!” The guard pointed his rifle at him. “Banks closed.”

“You must forgive me; I am merely asking directions as I am onbekend…unfamiliar of your petite town.”

“You talk funny.”

Louis smiled. “I supposed my tongue would sound seltsam to you. My name is Louis de Keyser, emissary of Leopold the First, King of the Belgians. Could you direct me to the burgomaster?”

“Burg-a-what?”

“Sorry, forgive me, English is my fourth language. Burgomaster…mayor…man in charge.”

He pointed up the street. “Try the High Hope.”

“Au revoir!” Louis clicked his black boots together and the heel and bowed before heading back to his horse. The stroll through town was uneventful, people mostly miners were either heading home or towards where the noise and music was coming from. Seemed there were two: The High Hope and its counterpart across the road, The Glory Hole, had patrons swarming to and fro like bees. Louis and Voedsel walked up to The High Hope where he lashed the large beast to a post and gave him a handful of salt and apple. Louis took his saber from the saddle and attached it to his side and then dusted off a skullcap. Checking himself in the water troughs reflection, headed into the High Hope.

As he was about to enter, a man flew out the doors like shot from a cannon. Louis placed a hand on the saber hilt and walked in through the swinging doors. The High Hope was a hive of activity. Tables withs poker, a band set up in the corner playing jaunty tunes, alcohol freely washed about, women of low morals but large personalities.

“What the hell are you?” A large burly man coated in days of mine work stood before Louis, presumably the man who ejected the other man.

“I am looking for the mayor, danke.”

“Danca ain’t the mayor? You talk funny.”

“So it seems. Could you point me in their direction?”

The man looked Louis up and down. “Are you a Jew?”

“Does that effect your ability to point?”

The man scratched his head pondering the remark but not quite getting there. He spat into a nearby spittoon, pointed at a lively table in the middle of the room, grunted and walked away but Louis caught him firmly by the elbow. Several onlookers gasped and a weird hush came over the place, even the band stopped playing.

“He touched Mad Bob!”

Mad Bob tensed spun around and glared at the odd man hanging off his arm.

Louis smiled. “Before you go, mon ami, vas is their name?”

Mad Bob glanced at the expectant crowd, this odd but friendly Jew-man, the crowd again. “Nobody touches me.”

Louis tilted his head slightly in confusion then brushed some dirt off Mad Bob’s shoulder like a mother readied their child for Sunday school. “This is incorrect, I am touching you, but no matter, perhaps this is a weird English thing. Their name?”

Mad Bob fumed with rage, mainly at the crowd staring at him as the odd man fiddled with his clothes. He pulled back a big right hand, cocked it and was about to let fly when a large beer was placed into his hand by a big man, tall, with a bit of a paunch, but not grossly fat with black oily hair, and a thin mustache wearing a leather apron.

“Settle down Bob, you start trouble here you’re riding to El Paso for drinks.”

Bob’s anger faltered as he stared at him. “Yes Mr. Munny.”

“Quit your gawking!” He yelled at the bar and the noise resumed. “Oliver Munny, owner, proprietor, head barman and local legend. What brings you to Abandon Hope, stranger?”

Louis did his click bow again. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Louis de Keyser, emissary of Leopold the First, King of the Belgians. I am seeking the mayor of your fine town.”

“You want Melton, he’s over yonder.” Oliver led Louis to the table where four men and a women sat talking and drinking.

“Sorry for the intrusion folks,” Oliver rapped on the table to get their attentions. “This the King of Belgia.”

Louis shook his head, stepped forward, click bowed and properly introduced himself. “I am Louis de Keyser, emissary of Leopold the First, King of the Belgians. I am here seeking the mayor of Abandon Hope.”

“That’d be me, Melton Goldberg,” a small man with a complexion of year of sun damage, a white chin beard, wearing fine black clothes extends his hand. “Welcome to Abandon Hope, your majesty.”

“You seem to misunderstand, perhaps I am not speaking English correctly, I am in the service of His Majesty Leopold the First, I am not him.”

Melton nodded. “Well, welcome anyways. These are, well essentially the town council. This is Sterling Silver, owner of the Silver Bank…”

Louis nodded politely at the white-haired man in the grey suit, who in turn raised a silver wine flute to him.

“This is Atticus Butterworth, Abandon’s resident doctor and undertaker…”

A lean man with a stern gaze looks upon Louis. “Sprechen sie Deutsch?”

“Ja, Herr Butterworth. Auch Französisch, Niederländisch, Englisch, wie sie sehen können, mit ein paar brocken Spanisch.”

The doctor promptly shut up having exhausted all his Bavarian in the exchange. Melton then pointed to the red-haired woman. “This is Iva Little, she is the…well…um…she is…”

“Dame de putes?” Louis asked.

“If that means madam, then that’s me.” Iva sculled her beer and burped in manly fashion. “You need a girl for the night, the week, you come see me.”

“Iva, please.”

“Ah stow it Melton!”

The mayor of Abandon Hope forced a smile onto his face because now was not the time to begin a slanging match with the chief prostitute in the middle of a bus evening. “This is out sheriff, David Fancher.”

“Keep your nose clean and we’ll get along fine.”

Louis touched his nose. “Is there something upon my face, oh I am so sorry, please for…”

“Oh no, no,” Melton reassured him. “It’s just an expression, what he…um, well, ah and this is the towns smith, Stone Feather…”

Louis looked quizzically at the Indian with a white right eye with a scar that runs from just above his eyebrow, near the bridge of his nose, to the top of his right cheekbone.

“Pardon my staring, Monsieur Feather, but I have never seen anyone of your colouring before but have heard of your kind. You are not actually red at all.” Louis click-bowed at him. “Now pardon my seeming rudeness, but I do have some pressing matters to discuss with you Herr Goldberg, is there somewhere quieter we could discuss?”

“Room six is free,” Iva chimed in. “Melton knows it.”

The mayor of Abandon got momentarily flustered and walked with Louis up the large staircase in the middle of the High Hope. Two ladies in clothes not really appropriate for outside the boudoir waved and flattered their eyelashes at them as they headed up to room six.

“So, what can I do for you?” Melton asked as he took a seat on the padded blanket box at the end of the bed. The room smelt of chlorine and candles.

“As I said, my name is Louis de Keyser, emissary of Leopold the First. I am his Arme à feu Tovenaar which the closest English translation is Gun Mage. I have been sent here to secure silver for a Belgian expedition into the Mexican lands. I have documents from His Majesty to make a formal arrangement between Abandon Hope and the Kingdom of Belgium. His Majesty requires silver and a safe haven to launch an expedition into the Mexican lands, and the town of Elpas…El Paso…the Step…so many languages…whilst closer hasn’t the silver which Abandon has.”

“The King is coming here?”

Louis waved his hands in swirling motions, sparkles of light and flecks of energy dance in the air when he stopped as sounds from the floor below drifted up. Gunfire, screaming, breaking of wood, swearing that would offend any god.

“What in the Sam Hill is going on down there?” Melton mused as he headed for the door when Louis grabbed his arm and reefed him backwards.

“As you are now in formal negotiations with the King of the Belgians, you are now under my protections,” Louis declared as his hands crackled with energy. “You will remain here, view the documents, and make sure all is in order whilst I go see what is going on. You will not leave this room.”

“Okay.”

Louis waved his hand and wafts of energy drifted into Melton’s eyes. “You will not leave this room.”

“I will not leave this room.” Melton replied as if he had no will of his own. Louis drew his saber and opened the door. It was chaos on the lower floor as dozens of undead had swarmed in and were continuing their push through windows and doors. The patrons of The High Hope were fighting back the horde but were outnumbered. A zombie chased a prostitute up the stairs, Louis stepped forward and decapitated the creature with a precise slice then leapt down the stairs and into the fray. Bullets, bottles, boards, blood, and beer flew across the room. The Sherriff and the bar owner popped up to fire shots from behind the bar. Louis noticed Stone Feather cradling a blonde woman with a nasty wound on her neck as several monsters shambled towards him.

Louis whistled loudly and with a spectacular crash, Vodesel smashed in through the window sending glass and undead bodies scattering.

“Danke!” Louis patted the beast on the neck and withdrew a long-barreled blunderbuss from the side holster. With a wave of one hand, and some old-fashioned packing with the other, the Gun Mage primed the blunderbuss and fired a cacophonous shot that shook the walls. A dozen clumps of ball bearings charged with magical energy flew in several different directions at once, hitting nine zombies with volleys of bullets.

The bar was oddly quiet for a second when the drone of undead moaning crept in from a distance.

“What in the hell is going on?” shouted Iva as she flicked brain matter off a bottle she’d been using as a weapon.

“Is this your fault, Butterworth?” Oliver levelled a pistol at him.

“How is this my fault?”

“YOU’RE IN CHARGE OF THE GRAVEYARD!” Oliver yelled in his face.

“RUSTIG!” Louis yelled, everyone turned to him as they didn’t know what he’d actually said but his tone was clear. “Herr Silver, is your bank secure?”

“Safest bank in the country,” Sterling replied smugly.

“We are going there, and you are locking these good people in the vault while I deal with whatever is going on.”

“Well, the…”

“This is not a discussion!” Louis snapped and then noticed the wounds on Voedsel’s flanks. “Scheisse! We move now.”

The ragtag group headed for the door when the undead form of Mad Bob staggered to his feet and roared. Louis stepped forward and rammed his saber through the mouth of the creature and out the back of its head. With a thump it hit the floor, but it seemed the patrons who’d been killed were beginning to stand up.

“Yes, very good.” Sterling gulped as he fumbled with a large set of brass keys.

Louis herded them to the door and viewed the street. Dozens of undead wandered the town, some were feasting on townsfolk, others just walking, some banging brainlessly. Voedsel nudged him, Louis patted his neck and reloaded his blunderbuss. “My friend, this is where we must part. I am saddened, and truly sorry.”

The group made their way down the street when another thunderous kaboom went off. Louis joined them and after clearing a group of zombies made their way into the bank. Louis waited until everyone was inside and waved his hands at the group as wafts of energy drifted over them.

“You will stay here; you will protect each other.”

The group repeated it in unison. Satisfied, Louis made sure the door was closed and got up onto the roof of the sturdy building. He reloaded the blunderbuss and fired another magical shot at the zombies in the street, felling a dozen or so but in barely made a dint in the swelling horde.

“This might be a long night,” Louis said as he examined his spell components and black powder supplies.

__

As the moon in all its fullness rose to its zenith, Louis was out of ammunition for his blunderbuss. It’s been several hours of him keeping watch from the roof of the Silver Bank, shooting down zombies when their numbers got to many for his liking around the perimeter. It was a distant howl that caught the Gun Mage’s ears.

“This might not be good,” Louis muttered as he pondered the last of his spells.

In the dark sometime later another howl pierced the night, then another and soon it was a choir of canine voices. Then they came, slowly trotting into town drawn by the smell of the dead and the recently killed. Louis readied a fire spell when a wolf morphed from canine to a hybrid human form.

“Gott in Himmel!” Louis gasped. “Loup verdomd Garou!”

The were creature whistled and several other wolves morphed and fell in behind him. “Normally this place is off limits, with all the goddam silver about, but tonight it smells too damn good! Careful boys, we eat and then we leave fore sun ‘up. And if anyone finds the mayor, bring that white bearded bastard to me.”

Louis’ eyes widened; the mayor was still in the hotel. He grabbed his blunderbuss and leapt off the roof and charged up the street. The wolves noticed him and gave chase as the Gun Mage dodged and ducked zombies to get to his destination.

“Oooweeee! Got ourselves a live one!” snarled a wolfman who easily caught the Belgian. Louis spun the blunderbuss and cracked the beast in the lower jaw with a sickening crack that dropped the beast. The silver inlay on the handle was finally more than decoration. Another wolfman tackled Louis to the group but the Gun Mage rolled with the attack and ended up sitting on top of the hairy dog.

“Bonsoir!” Louis greeted the wolfman before his hand ignited with hellfire and he smashed his fist into the gaping maw. The werewolf yelped and scampered away. Louis got to his feet checking around him for threats before standing on the High Hope porch.

“This building is under the protection of Leopold the First, King of the Belgians. Any man or beast who crosses the threshold will suffer the power and wrath of the Gun Mage!” a yellow light burst from Louis and coated the saloon like powdered sugar on a croissant.

“Whoever brings me his head, becomes the beta!” growled the leader and six ran up, pushing zombies out the way to confront and kill Louis. The Gun Mage smiled and stepped back inside the doors as the quickest one leapt at him. As soon as the snout of the werewolf crossed the threshold it was if he’d been struck by lightning! His skeleton was briefly visible in the explosive flash before he hit the ground, steaming like a ham. The other wolves screeched to a halt.

“You were warned!” Louis yelled as he glared at them. The werewolves paced back and forth as they pondered what to do as their friend lay there in an electrically enforced coma. Louis hoped his bluff worked because that glyph worked but once. “The next mutt that steps up will die horribly.”

The werewolves scampered back to their leader as Louis, leaping over the body of Voedsel, dashed up to Melton knocking zombies out the way who were feasting, wandering, and ambling about the saloon. Louis found Melton holed up behind the bed, revolver in hand.

“I didn’t leave!” Melton cried as Louis stepped over several zombies filled lead.

“Leopold and I thank you,” Louis helped him up. “Does Belgium and Abandon Hope have an accord?”

“Yes, yes,”

Louis clicked his fingers, releasing Melton from the compulsion. “We need to get you into the bank with the others.”

“Gun Man…”

“Mage, Monsieur, Gun Mage,” Louis corrected him.

“What is going on in my town?”

Louis peeked out the window to watch the werewolves and the zombies ransack the town whilst keeping a wide berth from the High Hope. By the time the sun crept up over the horizon the werewolves headed off leaving a smattering of undead to wander the streets of Abandon Hope. The Gun Mage led Melton Goldberg down to the bank, chasing off the occasional undead that dared come their way and unlocked the townsfolk. Louis clicked his fingers to release their compulsion he’d charmed them with.

“Three cheers for the Gun Mage!” Melton led a rousing cheer for the Belgian envoy. Louis click-bowed. He knew that in a few short weeks he’d be leading an expedition into the Royal Presidio of Santa Maria de las Caldas of the Huejoquilla Valley, some two hundred miles south to claim territory for the Belgian crown thanks to the agreement signed by Goldberg.

--

Louis drops into French, German, and/or Dutch when needed. If you're curious on the word, copy it and pop it into google. One of them is a swear word :)

The Belgians have been in and around Mexico since 1537

Note: This is a Choose Your Own Adventure. Due to some technical difficulties with CV, I had to switch the choices that were posted to my MurderHornet account (before the deadline) to my cbishop account (after the deadline). Nothing about the story was changed though. -cb

Wild Western: Abandon Hope - All Ye Who Enter

The stagecoach pulled out of El Paso early in the evening. If the little man in the blue cowboy hat had not paid for the entire coach, they would have jammed up to eight people inside. As it was, the three full-grown adults that rode with him seemed like more than enough to fill it. Beside him sat a very tall African man, skin particularly dark. Across from them sat an older white gentleman with a bald head, and thick mustache. Beside him sat a woman who was unbelievably even darker than the African. She looked very serious, but a light of mischief seemed to dance in her eyes, and it made her strangely attractive. She wore a long coat that seemed to be a little too big for her.

"Sir," said the white man to the little man, "I'd like to thank you for letting us ride with you. Without your kindness, we'd have been another two days getting to Abandon Hope."

"Nonsense," said the little man. "We are going that way, and my companion and I enjoy company. Name's Thomas Knox. You can call me Tommy."

"Well, thank you, Tommy," he said with a slight grin. Then, he looked at the African man, and said, "Companion?"

"Yes. This is Odongo Odango. I saved him from hanging, and he's traveled with me ever since."

"You saved him from hanging?" the man repeated, not quite incredulous, but clearly surprised. "How?" Looking to Odongo, more than a little curious, he said, "Why was someone trying to hang you?"

Odongo and Thomas exchanged looks, and the African smiled hesitantly. "It ain't what y'think. Some men- they think that I was a runaway, and wanted to know where I ran from. I ain't no runaway though, so I couldn't answer 'em like they's want. They's wouldn't b'lieve that I's free though. So, they was gonna hang me. Missuh Knox though, he come along, and..." he smiled bashfully for what he was about to say, "he mades 'em b'lieve that he had magic, and they ran off."

The man made a face like he was most impressed, and said, "Oh, I see." Looking to Mister Knox, he said, "I suppose if people aren't too used to seeing midgets, they'll believe almost anything."

Tommy laughed lightly. "You could say that." Holding out his hand palm up, a small blue flame danced over it, and he added, "Or... maybe I just have magic."

"Oh?" said the Marshal. The silent woman looked most curious as well.

Knox smiled. "Maybe we can stop pretending with each other, eh? I sensed there was something special about you when I saw you. What is it?"

The man pursed his lips for a few seconds, and he said, "I'll tell you what. I'll tell you about me if we can all stop pretending."

The little man turned his head slightly, giving the man a sideways glance. "What do you mean?"

"I mean your friend. He's pretending too. His speech isn't consistent. He's only trying to sound uneducated."

The tall man smiled broadly, and looked to Thomas, who nodded. Looking back to the man, he said, "My height draws enough attention. It comes in handy sometimes to be as dumb as people expect. I was a slave, but the man that owned me allowed me to be educated so he could keep me in the house, and show me off to his friends. He gave me my freedom before he died. Mister Knox did save me from hanging though, like I told you."

The white man had tilted his head while listening to the story. When Odongo finished, he held it up straight again, and nodded. "My name's Heironymous. I'm a dragon."

"Why's a dragon in human form, taking a stage coach?" asked Knox.

"Flying dragons draw attention as well," he said with a grin. "Being among people allows me to learn more about them."

Tommy nodded. "And what do you do while among them?"

"I'm a bounty hunter," said Heironymous.

The little man chuckled, "Why?"

Heironymous smiled again. "Because it pays in gold and silver."

"Ha!" laughed Tommy "That sounds more like a dragon! What's your business in Abandon Hope?"

"A bounty, of course. Yours?"

"I'm from that area."

"And you, miss?" Odongo said to the woman. "I have not seen many darker than I am, and almost none of them since I was taken from Africa. But you- you are blacker than anything I have ever seen! It is most intriguing."

The woman gave a slight nod. "You are not the first to say this about me."

"Gentlemen," said Heironymous. "This is Sara La Kali. In the past, she has been known as Sara the Black, and Saint Sarah, among others. Lately though, men have been calling her Pistolence."

Odongo looked surprised. "Ah! We have heard of you!" he said with awe.

"Indeed," agreed Tommy. "I hear you are quite the terror with a gun, miss."

Sara crossed her arms, reaching inside her coat for the pistols hidden at her waist. When she withdrew them, eight more arms emerged from the darkness of the coat, all holding pistols. "Or maybe just a terror," she said, leaning forward with a hungry smile.

Knox giggled his appreciation of her show, and Odongo stared in awe, saying, "Amazing."

Sara grinned as she sat back, and her extra arms vanished one and two at a time. "At times."

"And are you a bounty hunter too?" asked Tommy.

"I am looking for someone, but not as a bounty," she answered.

"She's doing me a favor. Helping with my bounty, since we were going the same way."

Sounding doubtful, Thomas asked, "What kind of man does a dragon need help with?"

"A woman, and she's quite powerful," was Heironymous' only answer.

"Well," Tommy said happily, "it seems as if this trip will be a most interesting one." With that, he kicked his feet up on the seat towards Odongo, leaning against the stage's side. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, folded his hands over his stomach, and closed his eyes. "We should be there by tomorrow evening. Good night."

Sleep seemed like a good idea to the rest of them as well, so they all settled back to rest.

***

The next day, they talked some more. A few times, when the horses were only walking, they got out and walked alongside to stretch their legs. Tommy rode on his companion's shoulders, either straddling his neck, or held on one shoulder by Odongo's hand.

They reached Abandon Hope about an hour before nightfall. The stage pulled up in front of the High Hope, and its passengers disembarked.

Who do you wish to follow? Heironymous & Pistolence, or Tommy & Odongo?

*******

Notes: Story and characters owned and copyright Chris Bishop 2022. Heironymous, Pistolence, Tommy Knox, Odongo Odango, and White Feather are owned by Chris Bishop. Oliver Munny, Iva Little, Stone Feather, Sterling Silver, The High Hope Hotel, Abandon Hope, The Silver Mining Company of Abandon Hope, and The Silver Bank are also owned by Chris Bishop, but have been okayed for use by the Wild Western: Abandon Hope group. White Feather is off the board after this story.

The Glamourdrekt #0

Iraq, 2004

!BOOM!

“Bay One! Bay One!”

The charred limbless body of Private Hansmichael Trūkst-Disparu was carried into the triage table by the chopper pilot and gunner. Two nurses and an army doctor swarmed the man who writhing in pain from caught an RPG at close range. He had burns to at least seventy percent of his body, his left hand was missing, his right arm gone as was his leg and left foot.

“Holy…” Nurse Bronya gasped as she cut the semi melted uniform from the sticky flesh.

“What do we do, doc?” cries Nurse Jadis who placed a CPR ventilator over the young man’s face. “Stay with us, soldier.”

Doctor Benjamin Marion Blake jammed a hypodermic needle of adrenaline into the man’s neck. “We need to…”

!BOOM!

The room shook from another blast of some sort of mortar or rocket. Dr Blake held his arms up as one of the surgical lights slammed down on his head. Nurse Bronya threw herself over the patient as Nurse Jadis took cover.

{He’s going to die} Bronya muttered to the HUD inside her eye……Jadis whispered into her locket <He’s going to die> as arcane symbols

as alien symbols and numbers scrolled up. {I can save him}………..hovered in the air. <I can save him>

In coincidental unison Bronya focused her alien technology as Jadis harnessed her eldritch powers and they fired a pair of energy at the young man. Millions of years of alien technology combined with arcane knowledge of the ancients and bathed Private Trūkst-Disparu in swirling colour.

“WHAT?” Bronya and Jadis were aghast, marveling in each other’s revealed secret.

!BOOM!

The room shook again bringing the roof down upon the triage when another explosion of furious gold light erupted. Hovering in the air was a man.

{<Glamourdrekt<} Bronya and Jadis said simultaneously in their languages.

__

Hansmichael Trūkst-Disparu looked groggily at the two women at the end of his bed. He felt funny. Everything seemed a bit off and the humming in his head wouldn’t quit.

“How are you feeling?” Jadis asked as she checked the drip beside him.

“Sore. Thirsty.”

“Do you know what happened? Where you are?” asked Bronya studying the heart monitor beside the bed.

“Asad Airbase, Iraq.” Hansmichael lifted his arm only to have Jadis firmly but gently place it back down.

“You’ve been in an accident,” Bronya told him as she unplugged the machines. “But…we, are going to help you. My named is Bronya of the Vlastsila Conglomerate, a superior intergalactic race that came to earth to study you simian based carbonites.”

“And I am Jadis, a member of the High Council of Archmagi, who have protected the Earth since Roman times. Both of us, saved your life.”

“I don’t understand,” Hansmichael coughed. “I don’t think that should make that sou…”

“My alien technology and Jadis’ sorcerous ways somehow combined and turned you into…”

“We don’t really know,” Jadis said as she ripped out the drip. “But you are possibly the most powerful being ever to have existed, The Glamourdrekt!”

“Glabbadick? Hey I think I…where’s my hand? WHERE’S my hand? WHERE’S MY HAND? OH GOD WHERE’S MY ARM?! HELP!”

“Let’s go!” Jadis waved her hand and levitated the bed into the air as Bronya tapped a device on her arm which made the wall shimmer like a pool of water. As Hansmichael screamed at his horrible situation, the trio vanished from the room.

__

Hansmichael sat in his wheelchair looking over his now crippled form. His skin looked like a dried beetroot and cheese toastie. He didn’t have a left hand, his entire right arm was gone from the shoulder. It matched his missing stump of a right leg and the void where his left foot should’ve been. He would’ve cried but his tear ducts had been evaporated in the blast, so he just sat convulse crying.

“You are the Glamourdrekt,” Jadis said as stood on Hansmichael’s left.

Bronya smiled as she stood on his right. “You are a scientifical magical blend of the galaxy’s best technologies…”

“And the world’s most powerful magicks!”

“I’M A F#%^-> CRIPPLE!”

“No,” Bronya put a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “You are the Glamourdrekt!”

“WHAT THE F#%^ IS THE GLAMOURDREKT!” Hansmichael exploded in bright white light and was reborn, rebuilt and rejuvenated as a 7ft tall, muscular man clad in enchanted techno-armour; a longsword on one side, a multibarrelled laser gun on the other. Eldritch symbols danced across and around him as LED lights blipped inn tactical patterns.

“I am the Glamourdrekt, ready to serve.”

The Scent of the Dead

Location: Savannah, Georgia

Year: 1929

I was coming inside my home after a long day’s work at the port office, when I heard something from inside my kitchen. I quickly reached into my purse and drew my pistol.

Out of nowhere, this creature that looked and smelled like an undead human came stumbling towards me. I fired at its torso, but my shots appeared to be doing nothing.

The strange man-like creature kept coming towards me, and it looked hungry. But then, right as I thought I was going to die, someone or something dropped down from my ceiling, and landed on top of the walking corpse.

It pulled the corpse’s head off its shoulders, and then threw it against the wall. Then, it started smelling the air.

“Who are you?” I asked, but it didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to shoot it or not; it just saved my life, but I had no idea what it was or what it wanted.

I turned on a light, and what I saw shocked me. It looked kind of like a man, but its skin was pale as snow, and it had almost dog-like fangs protruding from its mouth.

It turned to face me as it continued sniffing the air, and once I got a look at his face, I recognized him.

“Charles.” I said.

Moments later, Charles transformed into a bat and flew out of my window. I watched it leave, and it flew onto the arm of someone else I knew; Reverend Hayes.

The bat landed on Revered Hayes’s arm, and together, the Reverend started walking away.

_______

The most surprising part of the whole incident wasn't that a vampire was in my house; it was that I recognized him.

My younger brother Charles went blind and deaf as an infant due to a bad fever. Once he was just two years old, my parents decided that he was too much work, and sent him to be taken care of by nuns at a children's asylum, and we never saw him again. Five years later, we found out he had died in a fire.

That was all fifteen years ago, and I had long come to terms with my brother's passing. I never forgave my parents for giving up on him, but I had accepted what happened.

Until that night.

_____

The next day, I went to the church. The door was closed, but I started banging on the doors.

"Welcome Sandra." Reverend Hayes said as he opened the door. I could tell he was coming even before he spoke; his cologne was as strong as ever. We often joked that we could smell him from all the way around the block.

"Susan, it's so good to see you here again, I don't think you've attended service since…"

"Where's Charles?" I asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"My brother, Charles." I said. "I know he was in my house last night, and I know you carried him off."

For just a moment, just a very brief moment, there was a look of surprise on his face. But he quickly went back to normal.

"I'm sorry Susan, but you must be mistaken. Your brother died in a fire years ago. I officiated his funeral myself."

"You're lying!" I said. "You know where he is and what he's become, I know it."

"I'm sorry, but I truly don't. If you'd like to discuss your grief, I'm happy to walk you through some Biblical passages on dealing with loss. But otherwise, I'm afraid I have a sermon to prepare."

_______________

I knew he was lying to me, so that night, I snuck into the church.

I broke in my prying open the backdoor. Then, I made my way to the top.

“WHO’S THERE?” Reverend Hayes screamed, but I didn’t let him stop me, I kept pressing on.

I could hear Revered Hayes coming down the stairs, along with someone else. I looked up to see that he was escorting my brother.

My brother sniffed the air, and then came running towards me. He stopped when the Reverend tapped the floor three times.

“Charles!” I said as I shed a tear. I went to give him a hug, but Reverend Hayes motioned for me to stop.

“He doesn’t recognize you.” He said. Then, he held Charles’s hand and appeared to rub his fingers across his palm.

“This is how we communicate.” Reverend Hayes explained. “It’s called tactile sign language. I’m telling him that you’re his sister.”

“What’s he doing here?” I asked. “And how’d he end up like this?”

“I might as well put on a pot of tea.” Reverend Hayes said. “This is going to take a while.”

_______________

“There was no fire at the asylum.” He said. “My organization made that up to cover what really happened. The truth is that on that night, a vampire broke in and committed a massacre; killed eight children and drank their blood before we stopped it. Only one of its victims survived; Charles, your younger brother.”

“He’s still deafblind, but when the vampire virus took over his system, his other senses sharpened greatly. His sense of smell makes a bloodhound’s look weak by comparison; we know because we’ve tested him against bloodhounds, and he won every time. That's actually why I wear such strong cologne; that way he can always find me by smell even if we get separated somewhere in the city.”

“We didn’t make him work for us. We gave him the chance to simply be transferred to one of our safe houses, a place where he’d have fit in nicely. But he chose to become one of us, and aid us in our never-ending mission.”

“I’m sorry, ‘us?’” I asked. “Who’s ‘us?’”

“A secret organization known as the Protectors of Humanity.” He said. “Ever since the Middle Ages, we’ve been working behind the scenes, protecting the world from the paranormal. We’ve stopped everything from vampires like Dracula and Carmilla, to mad scientists like Dr. Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll, and The Invisible Man.”

“But, those are all fictional?” I asked.

Reverend Hayes laughed. “Not as fictional as you might believe. Those authors borrowed a lot more from our adventures than you’d like to believe.”

“Anyway, this church has been a front for the Savannah branch of the Protectors of Humanity for over a hundred years. Most people don’t realize it, but under the surface, this city is crawling with supernatural threats, including a recent series of zombie attacks. You know, like the one you almost died in last night.”

“We don’t know who is responsible for these attacks, or what their motive is. Our only advantage is his sense of smell; if there’s a single zombie in all of Savannah, he can track it down.”

And then, we heard the whistle of his tea kettle.

"Tea's ready." He said. "You take anything with it? Sugar? Honey? Milk?"

_______

We continued talking until Charles started sniffing the air and pounding his feet on the ground.

"Something's wrong!" Reverend Hayes exclaimed. "There must be a zombie."

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, we?” Reverend Hayes asked. “Charles and I are going to resolve this.” He explained as he reached into a cabinet to grab a sawed off shotgun and two knives.

“You are going home.” He continued.

I stood up and said “No. I haven’t seen my brother in fifteen years, and I’m not leaving him now.”

Charles was getting more agitated, so the minister quickly realized that he didn’t have time to argue with me.

“Fine, you can tag along.” He said. “But you will not engage with any zombies we find. You will stay back and allow Charles & me to handle them. Understood?”

“Yes, understood.”

“Good, now get your shoes on.”

Charles transformed into a bat and held onto the Reverend’s arm. Together, the three of us walked in the direction he was pointing with his wings.

Ultimately, we knew we were close when we heard a woman scream. The Reverend tapped Charles's wing, which made Charles take flight and fly in the direction of the scream.

“STAY HERE! Reverend Hayes ordered me, and I remained on the

sidewalk while he followed Charles towards the house that contained a zombie.

While I was waiting for them, I felt something on my leg. I looked down to see a python crawling onto me.

Before I could even start fighting it, it had wrapped itself around me and had started to squeeze. Moments later, a carriage pulled up beside me.

“Good evening, ma’am.” A man said from inside.

“No worries, Emmauel will not kill you. Only make you, how you say, fall asleep.”

He then picked me up and loaded me into the back of his carriage. “HEY, STOP!” Revered Hayes shouted as he started firing at the carriage, but it was too little too late.

__________________

I woke up with my legs chained tightly to a chair. To my surprise my arms were free, and I was in front of a table with a full set of silverware, and even a glass of wine.

It was a small room; just a dining room table, two chairs, and a window; a window whose blinds were all the way down, preventing me from seeing anything outside.

My kidnapper was sitting on the opposite end of the table.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He said. “My chef should be ready with the fried catfish in just a few minutes.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Heavens, where are my manners?” The sharply dressed stranger said. “I’ve gone by many names over the past century. I currently go by Papa Brown.”

“Papa?” I asked. “Bit of an unusual suffix.”

“Not for a voodoo priest.” He said.

Moments later, a zombie emerged from another room, carrying a tray with two plates of food.

“Excellent.” He said as he started eating. “Go on, eat.”

I had no intention of eating my catfish. The smell of his chef alone spoiled any appetite I may have had; but even if he smelled right, I was certainly not going to eat anything prepared by a corpse.

“You might as well have some.” Papa Brown said after taking a sip of wine. “It might be your last meal.”

Hearing him say that made my heart sink. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, after I have no use for you, I’ll probably just feed you to my horde.” The stranger said. “Only reason I kidnapped you is because I want information on the vampire who keeps foiling my plots, and the man who always accompanies him.”

“I don’t know anything.” I said. “I just happened to run into them in the street, thought I’d watch them.”

“Really?” He asked. “So it’s just a coincidence that a day after one of my zombies almost kills you, you’re at the scene of my next random attack.”

“Yes.” I said. “I know it’s unbelievable, but strange things happen.”

“I think that’s nonsense.” He said. He then stepped aside to take the blinds out of a window.

Even in the dim light, I could see a whole horde of zombies, at least twenty of them or so.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Papa Bown asked. “And these are just my personal guard. I have more stashed in other places outside of the city.”

“That must be why Charles hasn’t found him.” I said to myself. Reverend Hayes said he can only smell zombies within the city; he said nothing about the surrounding areas.

“I’ve spent years planning to takeover Savannah.” He continued. “The attacks, like the one that almost killed you, are simply my trial runs. Soon, I will have this whole city under my control.”

“And right now, the only thing standing in the way of that is a vampire and an old man.”

Just then, I felt a snake slither up my leg and wrap itself around my torso.

“Emmanuel doesn’t have to make this quick.” Papa Brown said. “He can make this last as long as he has to. Believe me ma’am, we are literally squeezin’ everything we need out of you, and no matter how long it takes.”

I was so scared that for a brief moment, I was almost tempted to tell him what he wanted to know. But then, moments before I might have caved and given him the information he wanted, there was a loud crashing sound coming from the ceiling.

“Emmanuel, come.” he said as his skeletal serpent slithered back to him.

He turned on a lightswitch, and I saw my brother fall to the floor.

“The vampire appears to have found us.” Papa Brown said. “No matter, he should be no match for my horde.”

He was wrong. Two zombies stumbled towards Charles; Charles started sniffing the air, and once he had a clear sense of where the zombies were, he struck. He raised his hand and slapped a zombie’s head right off its shoulders. The other zombie tried to grab onto him, but Charles kicked it away.

Moments later, Reverend Hayse barged in with a Thompson submachine gun. The moment he ran in, he started opening fire on the zombies, hitting their heads with surprising accuracy.

He ran up to Charles, and used their tactical sign language to say something to him. I obviously couldn’t tell what it was, but it appeared to be something along the lines of “I’ll finish off the zombies, save Susan,” because after sniffing the air one more time, Charles started running in my direction.

He burst through the window, landing on the ground in front of me. Meanwhile, I took advantage of the commotion to take the steak knife off my table and start breaking at my ties.

“Leave, or you will die!” Papa Brown shouted. I was tempted to tell him that Charles was deaf, but I figured that he’d catch on soon enough.

“Emmanuel, attack!” He ordered. His snake launched itself at Charles, latching onto his arm and trying to get to his torso. But Charles simply grabbed it, pulled it off of him, and then pulled it in half.

“Ma’am, hold my coat.” He said as he took off his jacket and threw it towards me. I simply tossed it on the ground and continued sawing at my ropes, but I don’t think he even noticed.

Only then, once his jacket was off, did I see that he was also a zombie. He had rotting flesh, some even to the point where bones were sticking out of him. Nonetheless, he looked ready to fight.

“He seems to rely on his sense of smell.” Papa Brown said. “Let’s take that out of the equation.”

He then waved his arms, and all of a sudden, the room started filling

with thick fog that smelled like rotting corpses. “There, that should keep him distracted.”

He then approached Charles, who had no way of knowing where he was coming from. Papa Brown then pulled a vial of water out of his pocket, uncorked it, and threw it towards Charles, who immediately started to burn.

“Holy water.” He said. “I’m never without it. If only I had more, so I could finish you off. Guess I’m gonna have to do this the old fashioned way.”

He then grabbed Charles and threw him against a wall. Charles tried to fight back, but there wasn’t much he could do about an enemy he could barely even sense. Once he had him against a wall, he started to beat him. Charles continued to throw out strikes of his own, but Papa Brown was blocking all of his strikes. He didn’t stop until Charles was virtually immobilized from his injuries.

When he was reasonably sure that Charles couldn’t do much to fight back anymore, he went over to his cabinet, and pulled out a wooden stake.

“Goodnight, vampire.”

I then finally burst free from my ropes and charged into action. I ran at him with my knife, and before he could even react, I had already stabbed him in the back and pushed him down.

What happened next was nothing short of incredible. Charles appeared to feel the vibration of his fall on the ground, and finally had a sense of where he was. Once he had a lock on him, he jumped forward, landing right in front of Papa Brown. Papa Brown tried to repel him with magic, but Charles fought back, and was able to grab ahold of him.

One his hand was wrapped tightly around Papa Brown’s neck, he simply pulled it off, and threw it against the wall.

Moments later, Reverend Hayes burst into the room. He was covered in blood and brain bits, but he didn’t care. The first thing he said was “Are you two alright?”

“I am.” I said. “Charles looks hurt though.”

Reverend Hayes took a look at his injuries and said “Nothing a few nights of rest can’t heal. Surprisingly, this isn’t even close to the worst he’s been through.”

________

Reverend Hayes drove me home. I told him I was fine, but he insisted. As we approached my house, he had a conversation with me that changed my life.

“Susan, I want to offer you a place within our organization.” Reverend Hayes said.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yes, I am.” He explained. “You showed real strength back there, when you saved Charles. We need people like you working with us.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, it will be difficult.” He continued. “I will personally facilitate your training, and I can guarantee you right now that I will go out of my way to push you to your limits. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do it, but if you’d like, I’ll gladly make you a Protector.”

I said “Sir, there’s nothing I’d like more than to join you and Charles in protecting this city.”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” He replied. “Now, unless you have any plans today, I suggest we begin your training.”

The Return of The Orphan

It had been a year since The Orphan and Crybaby had killed Benny Factor. You don't kill one of the East Coast's biggest gangsters without fallout though, and they had been on the run until yesterday. Yesterday, they were caught, and now Annie and Sandy Crabb were out by the docks, tied to wood chairs in a rundown warehouse called The Spatterworks. It was the home and workspace of a wannabe abstract artist named Doc Spatter. Really, he was the brutish fist of The Velvet Glove, also known as Elvis Velvet- a gang boss and ally of Benny Factor's. He had the atmosphere down though. The place was dark, the immediate area lit by a single lamp hanging above, and it smelled like seawater and bad meat.

Currently, the girls were alternating between taking bare knuckle beatings and electric shocks through a wet sponge pinched in a jumper cable. Annie would scream when she got shocked; she was human, not a movie hero. Sandy was angry at the man beating on her, and as always, she was crying through her anger. Doc hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious. It was a good bet that Velvet was watching by video, enjoying their torture with a sick glee. He wasn't going to actually be here. Not with this stink.

Annie had known for a few weeks that the net was closing on them, and she had made what plans she could. She reached out to the only person she felt she might be able to trust, and despite their present situation, she still held out hope that they'd show. Despite her swollen face, she grinned slightly when she saw the brief movement in the darkness behind Doc.

"Wot's so funny, den?" demanded Doc.

The movement began to coalesce from the shadows, and the eyes and forehead of a raven haired woman appeared- the bottom half of her face covered by a black mask that came up from the neck of her shirt- almost like she had pulled a turtleneck up too far. She had a silenced nine millimeter in one hand, and held one stiff index finger from the other up to her face, winking at Annie. Silently, she slid up behind their torturer, and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around in surprise, she slammed the gunbutt across his face.

Doc just stood there. He reached up to his face, wiped a little blood away with his fingers, and looked at it. Wiping at it with his thumb, he looked at the girl in black, and almost calm, he said, "You shouldn'ta oughtta done that. Wot you gotta say fer yerself, girlie?"

"She can't say anything," Annie managed through her swollen lips. "She... she's The Mute."

Spatter grunted. "I hearda you. Some deaf an' dumb little piece that likes to dress in black and play with guns. I ain't impressed, is I?"

He swung at The Mute, but she ducked him effortlessly. As she stood up straight again, she put a bullet just above his knee. The gun being silenced, there was just the wet impact, and Doc's deep bellow of a scream, but he didn't go down.

The torturer's face contorted with anger. He was about to lunge when another slim form in black dropped from somewhere above the warehouse lamp, and a thin sword suddenly tipped at his chin. "Do you want to die?" asked an elegant voice. She walked around him until she was in the light, the sword still at his chin. The Mute made room, stepping off to Doc's side, still holding him at gunpoint. The lady with the sword was Japanese, covered in black similar to The Mute, with a black silk blindfold tied over her eyes, its ends hanging between her shoulder blades.

"Well?" asked Doc. "Who're you s'posed t'be den?"

She pushed the sword upwards a bit, forcing him to raise his chin. "Purr."

Too stupid to show fear for the blade at his neck, Spatter laughed. "Wot kinda name is dat?"

"If I didn't think it would be wasted, I might explain it," she said.

"Wotta you wont den?" he sneered.

"We want these women," Purr said as if explaining it to an unruly child. Stepping back a bit, she added, "And I'd like you to be quick about it. The smell here offends me almost as much as your stupidity."

"Y'know wot's really stupid?" asked Doc.

Purr didn't answer. She merely inclined her head to show curiosity.

"You moved," he said flatly. As he did so, he clamped his ham-fist over the barrel of The Mute's gun. Despite her firing it into his palm, he spun her sideways, smacked her in the side of the head with his other hand, and then used that hand to grab the gun, and shoot Sandy through the head. Annie screamed as much as her swollen face would allow, and then Purr's sword thrust through Spatter's chest. He winced, and looked down at the bloody blade in surprise. Finally, he went down to his knees.

Purr stepped up close behind him. Putting a hand on his shoulder as she leaned down next to his ear, she twisted the blade, and said, "My sword is too good for you."

Doc looked shocked as he stiffened at that final pain. Then he slumped, and fell over on his side.

The swordswoman reached towards The Mute who was having a hard time picking herself up off the floor. Helping her stand, Purr gently took her gun, and then shot Spatter twice in the head. Handing the weapon back to The Mute, she asked, "Are you okay?"

The Mute made the "okay" sign.

"Can you stand now?"

She gave a thumbs up.

Walking around behind Annie, she used her sword to cut through the ropes that held her to the chair. "I'm truly sorry about your sister," she offered.

"I'm not," came a voice over a P.A. system, making the three women start.

"V... Velvet?" Annie managed.

"If it makes you feel any better," came the voice over the tinny speaker, "Crybaby actually pulled the trigger on Factor. Her death, and you having to watch it, satisfies the contract. You can walk out now, and this can be the end of it."

Annie shook her head, knowing he'd see it on whatever camera was watching them. "No," she called back, her voice strengthened by her anger. "We just gave Benny the same he gave our parents." She coughed behind the effort of talking, and might have doubled over if Purr and The Mute hadn't taken her by the elbows, and stood her back up. "We were trying to go," she said, shaking with anger. "That could have been the end of it. Now though, you all have finally made me... well and truly... The Orphan." With effort, she seethed, "I have no one... and nothing... left to lose." Standing up straight, and pulling free of the other two women's grip, she pointed in the direction of the voice, and said, "And you're going to find out what that means."

"Please," droned the speaker. "Do I sound scared to y--" He was cut off by a bullet taking out the speaker.

Annie loooked at The Mute through heavy, swollen eyes. The Mute winked back.

Purr asked, "Do you think you'd like help with this?"

The Orphan was silent for several long seconds, and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I might." After a minute, she finally looked behind her, and said, "First though, help me get my sister out of here."

*******

Notes: They're all OC's, but the new ones are Purr (blind swordswoman), Doc Spatter, The Spatterworks, and Elvis Velvet. Returning are The Mute and The Orphan. Departed is Crybaby- RIP. Oh, and Doc.. may he rot where he lays.

Story and characters owned by Chris Bishop, copyright 2022.