“Don’t worry; I am fairly certain that I can keep their eyes on me. Besides, if anything goes wrong I am sure you won’t be able to miss it. If that happens, you just do your best to get clear, understood?” Marshall waited just long enough to be acknowledged with a brief nod before he turned back towards the doors and casually approached them.
Moving like he was born from the shadows themselves, Deputy Rook slipped off into the twilight, his side arm already in hand. Marshall took in a deep breath and held it for a long moment as he willed the thought of just how crazy what he was about to do really was out of mind. But with the conscious effort, came so many old faces again. Faces of so many people that he had passed by looking for some heroic figure who he thought would have shown up to save them at any moment. But no champion ever came; it had only ever been him there, watching out for some fantastic figure instead of doing something.
This time, he was the hero, and he was going to take action. Marshall released the air from his lungs in a long slow exhale and let his mind clear. He seized upon his purpose with iron resolve and raised his Hole Maker. “Well, here goes,” he told the empty air around him and squeezed the trigger back in a single fluid pull.
Awaiting the release of his trigger finger, the weapons arc-igniter sparked to life and sent a pulse of electric current coursing into action. Resting at the rear of both barrels a pair of caseless projectiles exploded as their propellant ignited at the touch and vaporized into the promise of violent velocity. Each round ripped its way down the barrel before it until they both blasted angrily against the waiting door.
As it shuddered against the sudden assault, another pair of rounds rotated into position and immediately was sent flying. The lever flicked forward in a flurry as Marshall let his bullets bust the door to pieces. Once satisfied the hole he had made was big enough he slipped a few shells into the guns cylinder and holstered it as he stepped inside.
“Who’s ready to run the Gauntlet tonight,” Marshall roared. “Come on out, knock-knock; its justice come calling. Anybody home,” he goaded, daring someone to try to stop him. If anything would get under their nerves, a blatantly bold move such as this had to be right at the top of the list. He wasn’t wrong.
Episode 30 – Tarnished Badges
“This has to be some kind of nightmare, even for Newport,” Arbiter spat bitterly. The whole situation had spiraled out of control and looked to be rapidly rushing into the realm of absolute chaos. “How is it that, of the two of you, neither one could handle a single stranger?”
His question had almost the same impact as a braided leather whip as it stung both Eris and Dyzon’s wounded pride about as well. Already the unusual Uraor had been on edge ever since they had been contacted by her robbing rival, demanding they set up a meeting. Eris would have liked nothing more than to take out every frustration she felt in a furious frenzy directed his way. But even she could see the folly in such temperamental tactics.
As for the Bloody Bachelor himself, he was consoled by the constant reminder that there was still a likely chance Eris could be caught at the unfortunate end of this Gauntlet guy’s guns. Taurus couldn’t possibly fault him for that one, if it just happened to occur. Could he? The Red Bull was notoriously difficult to predict when it came to how he might respond to some things. Which was precisely why Dyzon desperately wanted to walk away from this whole ordeal as soon as possible, he could almost feel the breath of hounds hunting him at the nape of his neck. The thought made him shiver despite himself.
“Like you have done any better,” Eris was the first to snarl back in an avalanche of anger. “You’ve not managed to stop this dangerous drifter either,” she challenged. “And you’re the shiny shield who is supposed to keep things like this from even becoming a problem. Instead you let the man just walk off the Titan Train and into town without so much as bothering to even search him. Then, all of a sudden, we have a violent vigilante on the loose and the only authority in town’s great idea to handle the situation is a fancy speech. While we are dying in the streets at the hands of some campaigning crusader you are rallying sheep.”
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone much,” Arbiter automatically snapped in response. “Besides, while I have danced about to keep everything going smoothly all this time it wasn’t me who failed so miserably. Both of you two had him outnumbered and both of you came up on the short end if you recall.”
“Don’t you dare lump me in with her,” Dyzon chimed in, a growing agitation of his own building. “She only sent 3 piles of scrap to the heap; I had to send two flesh and blood men to the Digger Doll. The guy just got lucky is all, simple as that. However, if you had been bothered to warn us just how dangerous this man was it might have been different. For that matter it never should have happened in the first place if you’d simply done what you were paid to and arrested this fool.”
Arbiter opened his mouth to defend himself with another verbal volley, but a loud series of shattering sounds stopped him. “Dirty diamonds, what is that racket,” he cursed. The sinister Sheriff spun to face the fragmented frame of what was the warehouse’s doorway while suspicions were slung about behind him.
“This is some kind of trick,” Eris accused, using her finger to level a blow of blame towards the Bloody Bachelor. Simultaneously he snapped a slung shout her way as well. “You idiot, you have lead him straight to us!” Marshall’s bellowed bravado carried its way through the air to only further infuriate the battling bandits.
Arbiter immediately felt a surge of sadistic glee as he watched this hero walking through the doorway without a single weapon in hand. “You have a lot of guts, I’ll give you that Mister,” the Sheriff said with a smile. “But you have just reached the end of your rope; you just don’t know it yet.” Behind his back, he already had a gun in hand. This was going to be so easy, and so very enjoyable.
“Draw,” Arbiter roared, his voice resonating like a struck gong. He twisted with a jerk and swung his already drawn weapon before him to fire. In his excitement, he misjudged his aim – the Sheriff hadn’t had to engage in a gunfight in quite some time. Arbiter had allowed himself to become rather rusty he realized, and now he regretted it.
In a fluid motion, Marshall pulled both pistols and took aim. He had been a hair faster on the draw than the Sheriff, but had opted for a well placed shot instead of a wild one. It was a decision he was delighted by the outcome of, when a blazing beam flew past him. Two hammer falls rang in response as he sent a pair of shots back. One slammed home into the Sheriff’s upper chest near his shoulder and sent him stumbling. The other burned its way into his gut, sending a wave of sickness through him, and stealing his breath.
“Some friendly advice; doesn’t matter much if you can out draw another man, if can’t hit what you aim for.” Marshall watched as the Sheriff let his gun fall to the floor, free from his grasp. Struggling for breath his hands grabbed at his chest as blood already started to soak its way out. “You have brought disgrace to your duty, and dishonor to the badge,” Marshall explained with icy venom.
“Get him,” Dyzon and Eris cried in chorus as they charged past the fading form of Arbiter. Marshall snapped off another rapid fire staccato song of shots that thudded their way into his opponents. Several caught the Uraor with fearsome force only to be met by her body’s uncanny ability to recover from damage quickly. Already the wounds were beginning to close.
Another blast took Dyzon from behind and to the side as it dropped him to the ground, cutting his rushed assault short. Scrambling, Marshall dropped his Tamel’s and grabbed for the hanging hilt of the sword at his side. The light caught and rippled along the edge of the shattered blade as he brought it to bear. Eris screamed with rage as she sent blow after blow his way, a crashing wave of close-range combat.
Marshall steadied himself as his hands took their grip along the heavy blades handle and rolled his body to maximize the momentum. The sharp stub sliced through flesh like rushing water through a valley and an arm fell
to the floor. A howl of pain exploded in answer and Eris fell back a step to clutch at the ruined remnants of her lost limb. Fire still burned in her eyes, but with it came a clear understanding of what awaited her if she continued.
“Mercy,” she pleaded, feeling the inherent shame the words brought forth from insider her with them. She would recover, she knew, but to die so disgracefully; that would haunt her in the hereafter forever. It was better to live and reclaim her pride later than to be known as a weakling by those who told of her tale.
Episode 31 – New Sheriff, New Plan
Without a single whispered word, Marshall set himself into recovering his beloved bullet-slingers. One by one he reloaded each empty cylinder slot with a quiet click as it turned. When finally he spoke, it was the somber voice of seriousness, his head still cast down at the gun in his hand.
“Where are the rest of them,” Marshall asked suddenly. “Tell me, right now – if you truly do wish for any manner of sympathy; where are the rest of your friends.” A twinge of concern shook Rook’s conscience awake as he began to worry where Marshall might be going with this. Even a criminal, once caught was subject to the right to face the law for their crimes, not be executed on the spot.
“Whoa, easy there ‘slinger,” Rook pleaded, his hands held before him. “Let’s simmer it down a notch and wait a tick, alright?” Marshall made no move, his hat’s brim still cloaking his face in shadow. “If you’re asking about the other two; the Ursian and the Kry-Santhian – they split out the back as I was making my way inside. I think it is safe to say we don’t have to worry ourselves over them; we have the leaders of both gangs. One dead, the other in custody and we have removed a corrupt official from power. Isn’t that enough bloodshed for one night?”
Some distracting thought seemed to distance the grim drifter as he reached down to examine the crimson stained corpse, of which only moments ago had been the Sheriff of Redemption. With his left hand he casually plucked up the blood slick badge dangling from a scrap of cloth and held it up just enough to let the light catch it. The small shield had once been a symbol of authority, of the promise to protect. Now it was little more than a sullied trinket in his eyes.
“The town will be needing a new man for the job I should imagine,” Marshall mused, his tone still hollow and out of place. “I can’t think of anyone better suited for the task,” Rook admitted, a sincere smile joining the remark. But when Marshall looked up his eyes met the prismatic purple of Rook’s own and the Deputy knew full well that Marshall had never meant himself.
“Neither can I,” the deadly drifter declared and tossed the badge towards him. Rook easily caught it in his hand and regarded it, wiping clear some of the gore with his thumb. “I don’t know what to say,” he stammered shortly, working to find the words he wanted to say. “Not sure I even know how to do the job,” he confessed finally.
“You’ll do fine, trust me; I am great judge of character.” Rising once more, Marshall holstered his gun and looked from the stunned new Sheriff to the wounded warrior woman. “It is easier than you think; all you have to do is what you know is the right thing. Enforce the laws, keep your head and do your best. Just try not to forget two very simple things; justice may not always come from a judge and if you stray from the straight and narrow – you can find yourself facing a Gauntlet.”
The last comment, Rook couldn’t ignore, it made him curious and caused questions to come to mind. “What will you do now, where will you go?” Now with both of the rival bands of bandits no longer a threat to the town, there wasn’t really anything to keep Gauntlet here in Redemption. Could such a man as Marshall Lawson settle down though?
“There are others who are responsible for the problems here, those who think they are beyond punishment for the pain they cause. I think its time they discover how mistaken they truly are,” Marshall explained. “If you mean Adrian Taurus, I am sorry, but even you cannot reach him. Where he is, nobody ever comes back from; we’re talking as far down as you can go – the end of the line and just beyond. Taurus is a permanent resident of The Graveyard, he is practically already buried.”
“Well then,” Marshall announced with a chuckle. “Perhaps it is high time that I managed to get myself back into prison.” Rook had been certain that nothing else Marshall said could have surprised him by this point. After everything else they had been through, surely he was accustomed by now to the man’s madness. And then there was this; which he couldn’t honestly say which part was more unbelievable – the fact he wanted to be sent down to The Graveyard or the fact that at some point he had already been on the opposite side of barred walls.
“You know, you really are a few shots shy of a full load,” Rook exclaimed. “If you get sent down there, then there is no coming back, nobody to protect you. Do you understand that?” Marshall raised one eyebrow and a glowing gleam in his eye made the new Sheriff stop his speech suddenly.
“That is what makes it perfect,” Marshall countered. “There will be no one to get in my way, no one to protect him, and no where else for him to run. The man thinks himself safe in his castle, in the one place everybody believes has him kept from causing any more harm. He is hiding there, and enjoying complete absence from any manner of suspicion whatsoever. Its time for that to end I think.”
“If you ask me, you are only signing your death warrant,” Rook replied, echoing his reservations with the idea. “No worries in that regard, I know the perfect professional for the task should the need arise. I might even be able to get a discount.” Marshall laughed once more at the mention of the macabre maiden, and Rook couldn’t refrain from enjoying the joke as well. “There is just no talking sense into you is there,” he had to ask. Still laughing Marshall easily answered with another whip of whit. “Nope and there is no beating sense into me either. Others have tried, and failed – thick hide and thicker skull I’m afraid.”
Episode 32 – Red Bull Rage
Sitting alone along a crudely crafted bench, Adrian Taurus’s bulky body radiated grave peril to anyone who dared to interrupt him. To the casual observer, one might have found humor in the notion that such a notorious crime-boss could be caught in his spare time, idly enjoying any manner of civilized entertainment. Nevertheless, there he sat; knee deep in thought playing a tactical game of tiles with only his self to provide both player and opponent.
The sound of rhythmic clattering footsteps approaching didn’t even merit a single flinch from his focus as he contemplated the next move to be made. But once the sound stopped and a female voice spoke a tensing of tendons flexed instantly in response. “We have some things to discuss, you and me,” Demure Devadonna began boldly.
Several steps ahead, Adrian already anticipated where this conversation was bound to lead and he didn’t like it at all. If it was good news, well, that would have been delivered with some manner of celebratory grace and expectations of reward. Even if there had been a slight stumbling; word would have been refrained from reaching him for a short time yet, before he was informed through alternative channels. No, without a doubt if this dramatic damsel was the messenger, then this information was sure to leave a terrible taste on his tongue.
“Spill it,” Taurus ordered impatiently. “Just get on with it and skip this play at skirting the subject before you no longer have the fortune of my attention.” Adrian’s eyes never left the board before him as he continued to systematically move and remove the various tiled pieces along either side. With each passing beat of her pulse, Demure found herself starting to tremble as she watched the plastic parts beginning to move slightly faster from the hex shaped game.
“I have just been informed that Arbiter and Dyzon are both dead, sir,” she shakily submitted. “Eris has been taken into custody, just prior to these events the wanted outlaw known as Gauntlet was responsible for gunning down both Wynt and Briscole in the street.” A violent force detonated the table in front of Taurus, shock seizing Demure as she tried to rationalize what was happening before her. As
she watched on, her mind recoiled from the savage display while Taurus tore everything about him to kindling.
The Red Bull’s rage was a legendary thing among the underworld; it was spoken of with nothing but complete terror by those who feared they might earn his wrath. And now here she sat as Adrian Taurus demolished anything within sight. Even the very bench he had been sitting on was flung through the air to explode in a shower of shrapnel against a stone wall.
“Incompetent, worthless, sacks of wasted flesh,” Taurus growled between snorts and snarls. “One single man, one blind fool and not any of you could manage to deal with this disruptive drifter? Clearly I have over estimated the talents of the lot of you! I should have strangled you all myself instead of giving you a chance to be of use.”
Growling, Taurus turned, his eye burning bright red as his frenzy overflowed. “I’ll have your hide for this, and then I’ll get this Gauntlet in my grip myself. His skull will shatter ever so sweetly for trying to topple me.” A scream swept straight from Demure’s mouth before a steady stream of frantic pleading followed.
“Please, I beg you, grant me the opportunity to regroup; I am sure I can repay this rogue for the both of us! He will hurt for all that he has done. I promise you, this Gauntlet will pay dearly – I owe him for Ashes, and as Mayor who else is left to keep control of your public interests? He can’t dare touch me! I can deliver him to you, I swear it, and he’ll be handed down here to you in a heartbeat.”