“This is where I guess I am supposed to rally myself behind the notion of divide and conquer. But right now I think it is a safe bet that getting caught in any manner of crossfire might be hazardous to my health. No, not with the way my luck keeps playing out. What I wouldn’t give to have them all in one spot just long enough…”
Something in that thought jarred his gears loose and sent his mind stampeding forward. It was the craziest thing, a potentially tactical nightmare; he was going to combine and conquer. Separately it was all too easy for one crew to catch him engaged with the other and try to off them both. He was just one man after all; how hard would it be to shoot him in the back while he was busy in a shootout with your rivals? Too easy, that was for sure.
No, if either the Bull-Boys or Dizcords Daemons didn’t put him into the ground then the Sheriff was going to have him lynched by a town mob. None of which was his idea of good time or a fitting reward, Marshall decided. But if he could make himself into just enough of a nuisance he might be able to nudge them into grouping up to eliminate him as a common problem. And if that was the case, just maybe, he could capitalize on their less than harmonious dispositions.
Perhaps it wasn’t the most brilliant plan to ever be hatched, Marshall considered. Maybe it was even just a tad bit insane – alright full-blown crazy. But right now, crazy seemed to be the best option he had, if not the only option. “Now, if I wanted to really annoy a whole mess of thieving low-lives’; what would I do?”
And now he was back to square one; another question he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Boy, you best get in here; you have work to see to,” Grandma Grael called at him from her store front. “Don’t think for a second you’re going to keep wandering off and avoiding your jobs!” Had he really just walked back to the General Good without realizing it?
“Yes, Ma’am,” Marshall answered the agitated glare leveled his way and headed inside. “Why aren’t you gathered with everyone else,” he asked as he passed her. “For the same reason as you, I have never been a fan of empty words or pointless political performances. We both know it’s all just a song and dance show. Arbiter and Demure both are going to do whatever they want to do whether anybody approves or not. So I don’t see any sense in wasting my valuable time with their foolishness.”
As Marshall sat himself to work on his tasks Grandma Grael quietly appeared behind him. “Never you mind though; if anyone asks you’ve been hard at it in the back. I’ve had my eyes on you the whole time, not that anyone would question my word on the matter.”
Episode 21 – Word Always Travels Past the Warden
Buried deep underground, like an unpleasant memory was the primary prison of Newport. It had never been given an official name, at least not on any of the recorded documents. But when you were told you were heading to ‘The Graveyard,’ you knew you were being given a one way ticket underground. Nobody ever returned from The Graveyard, and typically only the most dangerous individuals were sentenced to spend the rest of their days without even the comfort of sunlight. It was a harsh place reserved for the hardest of criminals.
Born out of necessity, The Graveyard was originally little more than an abandoned mining operation. Located a few miles down from the surface diggers struck some of the densest stone they had ever encountered. As they hollowed their way out they discovered that the resilient rock surrounded them completely, leaving only the pocket space they had cleared. The whole operation ended up going under in the endeavor and the mine was closed off.
Unwilling to waste precious resources to ferry prisoner’s off-world, the New Republic soon decided a facility located on Newport itself was needed. And with the rights to any land defaulted on reverting back to the New Republic they could further cut back on their costs to construct a suitable confinement center. It was a match made in heaven; a low-cost local site to try and lock away the worst threats to an unbalanced bottom line.
And of all the men and women ever sent down to its abysmal depths; Adrian Taurus was perhaps the most perfectly placed prisoner. It was an undisputed truth among the underworld that Taurus was at its top. He had earned for himself a ruthless reputation that nearly rivaled his massive frame. Many a man had met a grizzly end by running afoul of Taurus’ infamous temper. At least locked away in the dark it was assumed that the Red Bull himself and his rage couldn’t harm anyone again. Or at least, that was the general idea anyway.
Adrian always enjoyed the poetic irony prison provided though. Here he was, buried beneath all of Newport to make everyone above him rest easier. The truth of the matter though was that it was he who was beyond reach down here. Down in The Graveyard nobody could blame anything on the notorious Red Bull himself. He was beyond suspicion; free to run his nefarious network without any annoying irritations – like staying out of jail. In fact the only others down here with him were all loyal underlings; servants one might say, all willingly imprisoned to maintain the illusion of a fully functioning facility.
Honestly, Adrian found the whole deal hilarious. The fools had made it all so easy for him to plant his own people everywhere he needed. It was just one of those same people that he now was waiting on, and Adrian Taurus despised having to wait for anything. Patience had never agreed with him, perhaps it was something about his nature but he found the exercise of trying to do so infuriating. The need made it worse pushed his restraint to its limits – five minutes past the scheduled delivery time was unacceptable.
Already Adrian could feel his last dose of Red Blood becoming dangerously close to wearing off. Any sign of weakness could not be tolerated, and that meant that nobody could discover his addiction. Was that a tremor trying to terrorize its way up his arm Adrian wondered? A grunt became a growl as the strange symptom was silenced by his fist slamming violently into what might have been a cot at some previous point.
“Sorry boss,” spoke a hushed voice from behind him marked by the fear of seeing Taurus’s massive might mangling, well, anything. “Here is your care package sir; the delivery guy had to work around some guards. Seems they were too busy swapping news about some business going on in Redemption and he had a terrible time getting this by them without getting caught.”
“What news would that be then,” Adrian asked as he accepted his delivery with every ounce of willpower he could muster to not immediately tear into it. “Oh, yeah, that; it’s just some fresh fool who has showed up trying to play hero. Apparently the word is that he even gunned down the Bot Brothers.”
That got Adrian’s attention, and provided him just enough distraction to take his mind off having to wait – almost. “I don’t care who this joker thinks he is or what Arbiter has to say on the matter; send word to Dyzon that this guy is gone. As in instant extinction; I will not tolerate even a single fly to provide us with a possible problem. Crush him,” Adrian ordered.
“Oh, and one more thing before you go; get rid of the delivery guy. I will not forgive tardiness, no matter the reason.” The emphasis in his tone made the meek minion quickly relocate to less hazardous environments. Once he was alone again Adrian rushed to remove a fresh vial of scarlet shaded liquid. The small tube rolled about in his fingertips and the feel of its promised pleasure made his digits dance.
There was a simple click as the crimson cylinder snapped into place in the injector. Automatically he went through the familiar motions to check that everything was in order and then pressed the device to his throat. The rush was like riding a wave of raw thunder as it arced its way through his nerves. Red once more colored his vision as the drug took hold and a torrent of synthetic adrenaline coursed through his veins.
If Eris had already lost all three Bot Brothers then she had come up short with this nameless man. No matter, Dyzon would probably relish the chance to show her up anyhow, Adrian knew. And if he didn’t dispose of this drifter then he could easily arrange for his disappointments to be relocated down here with him. There was a good reason nobody ever made it back out of The Graveyard.
Ep
isode 22 – The Digger Doll
After the majority of Redemption’s residents had gathered together in town for a little song and dance, courtesy of their selfless public servants, the store became a hub of commerce. Apparently everybody seemed to have the same idea; while they were already here in town anyways, why not do a little shopping. Everyone eased their nerves or placated their fears in their own way and for many that meant turning their focus elsewhere. The whole situation did little to comfort Marshall’s unsettled nerves at present, however. All these swarming shoppers; who only a short while ago were deciding to denounce the actions of Gauntlet made him more than a little concerned. And any one of them could spot a glimpse of him in the back, one accidental view and he might as well stick his own neck in the noose.
In hindsight it might have been a little wiser to have concealed his identity, Marshall concluded. He hadn’t really thought about it before; everyone adored a champion of justice – at least in the stories anyways. Now all it would take was one person who recognized him from the bank or the bombed building and his goose was as good as cooked. At least in both those situations there was the distraction of danger that might have limited people’s attention to his face.
When Marshall next redirected his gaze from the crates of goods he was sorting in the back a startling sight awaited him. It was almost as if he had blinked and missed someone yelling a warning about a bomb. The General Good was suddenly devoid of patrons, save one lone lady. Standing just inside the doorway and looking quite oblivious to the absence of everyone who had just recently shared the space was the familiar form of Miss Donovaen.
Sharply dressed, as always in a flattering three piece suit the mysterious maven silently stepped inside the shop and then greeted Grandma Grael. She removed her topper and bowed slightly. “Lovely weather we are having today isn’t it,” she offered politely. “Business, it seems, is on the rise so I just need to restock on a few things.”
“Certainly dear,” Grandma Grail replied as she accepted a neatly written note detailing everything needed. “My, this is quite a list then; isn’t it? Well, no worries – we’ll see to getting that filled and you back to your waiting workload. Let me just get my extra pair of hands; Marshall, come over here please.”
Marshall’s curiosity welcomed the request as he still found it puzzling how quickly everyone had vanished. He also admittedly wondered at just what exactly it was Miss Donovaen even did for a living. One look at her shopping list didn’t really seem to provide any answers either. It almost seemed like she was building something, but to look at this well-dressed woman he couldn’t begin to imagine her laboring over much of anything.
“Always a pleasure to be of assistance,” Marshall offered with a soft smile. “If it isn’t overly forward, do you mind if I ask what you’re working on? I might be able to lend a hand some if Grandma Grael can spare me on occasion.” Something in his words clearly amused both ladies as a ripple of muffled giggles erupted.
“What,” he asked somewhat embarrassed. “Care to let me in on the joke, ladies?” After a second round of laughter both ladies managed to regain their composure before addressing him with an answer. “Terra here is the town’s resident undertaker,” Grandma Grael explained. “Hence the immediate vacant vicinity that accompanies my presence,” Miss Donovaen added.
“Wait, you mean you’re…” Marshall found the idea strangely hard to swallow. “It’s your job to deal with the dead, but – well, no offense ma’am, you’re a lady. Even taking your profession into consideration, how can anyone as charming as yourself be lacking with regards to social matters?”
Terra was hard pressed to resist a burgeoning blush that already started to show in her cheeks. “Would that more of the people of Redemption shared your thoughts on the matter,” Terra confessed. “Thank you for the kind words, but unfortunately those in my chosen career isn’t exactly the type to invoke a comfortable atmosphere. People accept that such a job is a necessary one but out here it is more visible and therefore less savory of a subject.
I imagine that by avoiding my presence in public they figure they might also keep my morbid occupation out of thought.” Marshall honestly couldn’t argue with that one, but he still couldn’t see anyone turning away from those amazing amethyst eyes. “Do you need a hand packing these items back to your shop,” he asked her still smiling. “If you’d prefer I can deliver them for you next time. Something tells me you’re going to be getting some steady work for a while yet.”
“Perhaps,” Terra agreed as she returned a brief grin herself. “However, I will do you the small kindness of excusing you from your offer to assist me. I will, though accept your help in escorting me back with these supplies.” Turning back towards Grandma Grael she nodded a friendly farewell. “You know you really are getting to be a full service shop here!” The comment prompted another chuckle from Grandma Grael as she admitted in reply; “we do aim to be of service.”
Episode 23 – Spurred Bulls and Bullies
The reinforced safe house door rang with a resounding echo, a sharp series of knocks effectively announcing an urgent demand for attention. Lost, adrift in a rather pleasant daydream, Dyzon’s feet fell from their perch as he returned rather roughly back to reality. Another round of rapped poundings came while he struggled to clear the fog of confusion that clung to his distracted mind.
“Someone is at the door,” Caess pointed out without bothering to look up from whatever tinkering project currently laid before him. “Thanks for the update,” Dyzon countered, not even attempting to hide the agitated edge in his tone. “Don’t worry though Caess, I will get the door, I’d hate to tear you away from anything important.”
Oblivious to any intended insult Caess simply kept working, his attention completely lost on anything else. “Appreciated,” he added automatically. Dyzon grunted as he rose from his comfortable spot, resenting the interruption of what had become a fun dream and headed for the door. Before he could even answer the blasted thing a third pattern of pounds erupted.
“Yeah, yeah; keep your pants on,” Dyzon told the closed door. A keypad beside the door beeped in a steady rhythm as he punched in the access code that allowed it to open. He didn’t see any reason to bother checking who was outside; the only people who might even show up at this location were him and the Bull-Boys themselves or a handful of others loyal to Taurus himself.
“What is it,” Dyzon demanded before the door had barely finished opening with a hushed hiss. “What is so important that it has you beating on our door like your rear is ablaze?” Looking back at him was a frantic young face, belonging to a boy barely old enough to have hair on his chin. Whether urgent or otherwise, Dyzon had no doubt to this kid the delivery of his message had to be the most important thing he had ever been asked to do. If he was lucky the boy would remember to breathe.
“I have word from the Red Bull, sir,” the boy began and didn’t seem to be about to wait long enough for anyone to acknowledge his claim. “He says he wants the man calling himself Gauntlet eliminated immediately. Mr. Taurus says that he doesn’t want him causing any more trouble like he did for Eris at the bank. Crush him and anyone else who even considers standing against Mr. Taurus’s interests – his words.”
“Whoa, rein that horse in speedy,” Dyzon exclaimed as he rubbed at his forehead trying to let everything sink in. “Run that bit by me again about Eris and a bank; am I missing something or are you implying that she tried to rob the bank? And by the sound of it she managed to find herself running into some opposition? Details boy, fill in the blanks here.”
The young messenger’s eyes began to dart about as he was decidedly unprepared to have to provide more than just the recited message. “Uh, well – yeah, Dizcord’s Daemons tried to rob the bank,” he stumbled to explain. “Some drifter showed up and shot down all three of the Bot Brothers before running them off. They say the town has called the man an outlaw and an enemy of the public. Probably already dead or skipped town some say. M
y Uncle Reamus says he must be some kind of freak fighter to take out three bandits by himself!”
“Run along then runt,” Dyzon ordered before clicking for the door to close, anything to cut off this chatterbox kid. “Caess, where are the rest of the boys at, looks likes we get to make some trouble in town.” The ruby eyed Krysanthian barely paused before he relayed their location. It took him a split second to overcome his compelling curiosity. “Wynt is having a drink as usual and Briscole is probably practicing his pummeling. They’re both off in the back somewhere; want me to get them in here for you?”
“Yeah, make it quick too,” Dyzon advised with a sadistic smile. “If old Eris is off licking her wounds with her tail tucked, I want to make the most of the moment and show her how you handle a troublemaker. Its high time Taurus saw just how worthless that whole lot is and just how valuable we really are. We got us some hero hunting to see to; some guy going by the name ‘Gauntlet. Word is he trashed all three Bot Brothers.”
“How you going to find this Gauntlet guy anyways,” Caess asked as he was about to leave the room. “If this fellow fancies himself the hero then we will just have to tear the town up a bit to draw him out. Why hunt him down when he’ll come to us all on his own?”