Caess considered the fact that this man had supposedly taken out three of Eris’s crew single-handedly. Even with Dyzon’s low estimation of the Daemons, he had to admit that perhaps a small measure of caution was in order. Although, whatever the fool was thinking that made him even remotely consider attacking a whole crew of robbers, he couldn’t imagine. Well, perhaps this guy was just dumb enough to actually make it easy on them. If not just maybe he was smart enough to already have cleared out of town. Either way a trip to town was a welcome thing; he could use some new parts for his tinkering.
Episode 24 – A Charging Bull is a Blind Bull
The sign over Terra’s shop was still visible enough to make out the original writing that marked it as ‘Decently Departed.’ Although a layer of graffiti overlaid it with various less respectful claims. One did catch Marshall’s eye that he had to admit was somewhat cute. It was just two words written in a crude scrawl; Digger Doll. For the life of him he wasn’t sure how he had missed it before.
As for the shop itself, it was perhaps the most well ordered and professional looking establishment Marshall had ever seen. It was both warm and inviting; the whole décor had a friendly welcome feeling to it. There was not even a single hint of the morbid expectations most assumed to be found inside a business devoted to dealing with the dead. In fact, Marshall felt a little embarrassed by his obvious nervous nature at first after entering the shop.
“Well, I believe I can handle everything from here,” Terra said softly. “I would like to thank you again for the help, I’m grateful. It’s quite refreshing to meet someone who isn’t too scared to speak to me.” A grin gingerly hinted at forming on Terra’s face, and was quickly answered in kind by Marshall. “You should probably start heading back, it’ll be getting dark before long and the dusk hounds can be dangerous this time of day.”
“Don’t worry about me, I think I’ve had my fill of warm welcomes from the locals,” Marshall jokingly replied. “No matter how many legs they have; I’ll be careful.” Terra’s smile widened at the clever comment and she laughed once more. The sound was musical and full of wonder to him, like listening to a trickling stream in spring as it overcomes winters chill. “Much obliged for the advice though, ma’am,” he added with a bow and tip of his hat.
“I have every confidence that you’ll be hard pressed to find anything around these parts that will be able to dent that armored exterior you have. Even so, do take care; I will be looking forward to deliveries that have a friendly face behind them.” Marshall felt his cheeks flush a little as he took his leave, his step noticeably lighter as well. Miss Donovaen had been right though, he noticed as he looked up to the sky. The bright yellow orb above had already dropped low in the sky and shifted into a deepening shade of orange. Quickly it would barely be just a pink glow on the horizon as it vanished for the night.
He really should be getting back but his recent encounter had left him in higher spirits, and he’d rather enjoy the feeling for a few moments longer. There were things to consider, matters he still had yet to contemplate. What he really needed was to clear his head and be alone with his thoughts. Given the general disdain for this area and the time of day, Marshall had to admit there might not be a better chance to find some time to think.
His feet led him to the edge of town where Terra’s warning proved true enough to halt his wandering. A small pack of dusk hounds had managed to corner some unlucky beast along the town’s border. Normally Marshall might not have given the creatures much thought and written the whole thing off as squarely within the domain of the natural order of things.
As he watched the dusk hounds maneuvering into position he noticed how their dust-colored hides seemed to blur the difference between where they were and where sudden movement showed them to be. They really had earned their name fittingly enough; these hounds often appeared at dusk and typically did so seemingly out of thin air. It didn’t really seem all that fair to their prey to him, natural or not. And presently Marshall decided that he had had enough of bullies, even if they were mere beasts.
With both pistols to hand Marshall took aim and trained his first shot just to the side of the lead hound. A loud crack echoed out as his blast hit nothing but dirt, a clear miss. His eyes barely had time to notice any real detail in the dusk hound’s reaction; already the growing gloom was providing protection to them from his perception. But engaging an enemy without the benefit of light wasn’t altogether unfamiliar to Marshall. He knew rather well that long before his eyes would discern any detail, they would detect motion instead.
Patiently he drew in a long breath and eased it back out; forcing himself to relax as he waited. Another blur of brown exploded at his left, and he answered it with an impulsive shot. Again only a thud of dirt marked his efforts, but one subtle fact became clear. With each avoided attack the lead hound dodged, the others moved likewise. A plan began to form behind his brown eyes, and a savage smirk soon joined it.
This time when something obscure alerted him he fired again in its direction and immediately followed it up with a second just opposite to the first. A primal yelp of pain rewarded his gambit as a wounded dusk hound stumbled just long enough to be greeted with a sharp staccato of shots. “That’s one,” Marshall remarked gravely as he watched a few fleeing shades vanish off into the distance.
“Guess they weren’t sure who to follow next,” he decided. With the final rays of sunlight fading from the sky Marshall reviewed each gun and reloaded the empty cylinders. Overhead he could already see a few drosswings beginning to circle the prospect of a fresh meal. The large carrion birds glided about on their foul smelling oily black wings, eager to feast on the fallen dusk hound below.
As the sky-born scavengers began their dive down for dinner, Marshall watched on and just as fast marked they scattered as if spooked. But what could have startled these drosswings from a fresh feast? The distant sound of a rumbling roller soon answered that question well enough. It was racing rapidly towards Redemption, and as it got closer Marshall found the vehicle familiar. He had seen this one before, the day the Titan Train was robbed coming to town.
If this was the Bull-Boys heading into town, then it was anything but good news. In a hurry Marshall looked for a better position and when a rough chunk of stone presented itself he slid behind it. The rigid rock was a rough presence at his back as the roar of an engine grew louder. Cautiously he decided to risk a look around the side as a thick trail of thrown up dust flew in his face.
While he coughed up a cloud of his own, the motor’s sound was already fading away. The Bull-Boys had just blown past him in a reckless rush that worried him about their reasons for coming to Redemption. Grandma Grael and Terra’s faces were the first things that came to mind and he found himself quite concerned. He would have to hurry to catch up to that roller and fate frown on them if he was too late this time.
Episode 25 – Beware a Burnt Backside
The sound of screeching steel assaulted the air as the Bull-Boys’ rushing roller skidded to a halt. Immediately, both Wynt and Briscole jumped clear to take up positions along either side of the vehicle, weapons in hand. “Caess,” Dyzon shouted as he rose to step out himself, a gun in one hand and a megaphone in the other. “Get behind that toy of yours and kindly give these good folks a taste of our resolve. I want them to know we mean business and ensure that we have their undivided attention.”
Caess hesitated for a single breath before moving to obey the order, a look of concern clearly etched on his slate shaded brow. “Alright Dyzon, but I haven’t finished testing this thing out yet – no promises that the power cells will hold out under prolonged use,” he explained. “Any particular preference in regards to targets or would you like me to provide them with a warning blast?”
“Just pull the trigger and reduce something to rubble boulder brain,” Dyzon scolded. Without further wait, the Kry-Santhian slipped behind a swivel mounted device, pivoted it towards some nearby buildings and tediously squeezed
its trigger. For a second his heart skipped a beat as he questioned whether it would even work, only to find a roar of relief when it erupted. A bright steady stream of shimmering energy poured out to rip its way through everything it touched. With a jerk Caess pulled the pointed power to his left and watched the wrecking weapon’s blast obey. By the time he released the trigger he knew only seconds had past but before him he would have sworn a few minutes worth of a bullet barrage had occurred.
“It makes me no never mind if you want to hide in your homes or not, you can die just as well no matter where you are.” Dyzon’s announcement easily carried through the evening streets, audibly amplified by the megaphone held before him. As he began his sinister speech fearful faces slowly began to peek out from windows and rubble to regard him. “I am here for one thing and one thing only; the man who calls himself Gauntlet. Can you hear me, hero? I am calling you out, if you’ve got the guts to face a real man. And I can promise you, you’ll not find us the bunch of push-over’s you’re used to.”
Only silent shadows and trembling townsfolk answered Dyzon’s challenge as he looked around. “Alright, there may be no love lost between the people of Redemption and yourself, Mr. Crusade, but I doubt you’ll turn a blind eye to their pain. Show your self or my friend here is going to start remodeling Redemption into ruins.” Along with the threat went a lethal look, which reinforced his meaning as he gestured toward Caess.
The soft sound of soled boots padding over dirt ended with a crunch behind Dyzon, prompting a smile of satisfaction. “You can call off your dogs, friend, I’ll accept your challenge,” the mysterious man proclaimed. Awaiting Dyzon’s eyes when he turned around was a man with his own gaze downcast, his face obscured behind the brim of his hat. No weapon was visible in either hand, nor was a single stitch of protective apparel anywhere to be seen. In fact, only a pair of antique looking revolvers was holstered at his sides and some bizarre blades marked the man as even being armed at all. And even so, the fool had ignorantly chosen to wear his weapons with the handles facing forward.
“Let me explain something, friend,” Dyzon began with a chuckle of amusement. “When you wear a weapon it’s wise to be able to get to it easily and quickly, first of all. And secondly, for your own health; it is never a noteworthy notion to step into our way when we’re looking for somebody.” A growing giggle began to grip Dyzon at the idea that this silly man seemed to think himself brave enough to walk right up to them and accept his challenge. “So why don’t you run along, we have business with this Gauntlet fellow, not some dimwit drifter.”
Marshall raised his head with measured effect, his hands still clear of his carried side arms. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we met; I am certainly no friend to you and your lot,” he countered. Upon seeing the familiar face, fresh laughter found Dyzon as he enjoyed the irony of the situation.
“Well, well, well; look here boys – if it isn’t Mr. Titan Train himself! Don’t tell me you’re this Gauntlet character, causing; or trying to anyways, all this trouble around here?” Marshall surveyed the position of his foes and made a mental note of their placement before answering. “The same,” he admitted careful to keep his best poker face on.
With a shake of his head Dyzon tried to clear his thoughts of the inherent humor in the claim and called for Wynt and Briscole. “Would you two remove this idiot and his bad taste in jokes, please,” he asked with a growing groan of displeasure. Perhaps afterwards, the real hero might show himself. Dyzon hated to waste all night destroying the town looking for him.
Eagerly Wynt took aim, relishing the chance to get back at the man who he’d promised to get even with on the Titan Train. “With pleasure,” he answered. A few steps away Briscole raised his own gun obediently as well. “Whatever you say, boss,” he agreed. Together the pair of thugs began to approach their target in tandem, ready to remove him.
Marshall allowed them three steps towards him as he sized them up and estimated their reactions. Neither one of them had moved their finger to the trigger just yet, nor did either seem intent to do so until they closed in on him. In fact, a staggered step marked Wynt as a man recently engaged in some heavy drinking. He was a sharp contrast to the sweaty tightly muscled man at his side that looked to be fresh from a workout.
Even sober and well rested, Marshall doubted either of them would have the speed to react on the draw fast enough. But right now, he was doubly sure he held the edge in this encounter. It was time to take the advantage and make the most of it, Marshall decided grimly.
Both his elbows dropped to point behind him, his wrists bent ever so slightly as his gun’s grips seemed to reach for his embrace. A subtle whoosh of wind accompanied his weapons as they whipped out, catching the bold bandits off guard by the offensive. Wide eyes stared in disbelief as a pair of pistols barked to life to send speeding shots their way. The violent volley pelted them with piercing projectiles that ended in grizzly gurgling.
Both criminals fell to the ground with a wet thud as Marshall adjusted his aim towards the other two terrorizing thieves. Perhaps now they might take him a touch more seriously. Either way he was ready to receive their reaction.
Episode 26 – Flee You Fleas
Dyzon Naez watched in shock as two members of his criminal crew fell before this deadly drifter. It had all happened so fast, one second he was enjoying the impending end to this silly stranger – and then suddenly shots rang out. How had he drawn on them so fast, let alone managed to get any shots off before them? Who was this man that they were dealing with?
Realization ravaged his insides as a fear began to snake its way up from somewhere deep within him. This was indeed the self-proclaimed hero of Redemption, it had to be; the man who called himself Gauntlet. On this side of those pointed pistols, Dyzon now found himself understanding precisely just how easily Eris could have been overcome by a single Samaritan.
The weight of his own weapon, still hanging loose in his hand felt ten times heavier than he knew it to be. It brought his attention back, his focus landing on the simple understanding that relics or not – two terrifying revolvers were trained on him. Any move he made now to attack would certainly be interrupted instantly by impending death. There wouldn’t even be the need for this avenging angel to draw at all. A quick squeeze or two and he would be waking up as worm food.
“Caess,” Dyzon said hoarsely, trying desperately to keep from showing how scared he was. No matter how dire the situation or how bad the hand he held was, he refused to let this Gauntlet guy see him shake. “Now would be a good time for you to be doing something,” he confessed.
The keen minded Kry-Santhian had already been analyzing the situation as it unfolded, considering a complex array of options. His grip still on his deadly little device he immediately assessed its state only to discover rather remorsefully that his concerns were confirmed. The improvised invention had sucked far more power from its power supply than he had estimated. If only he had had more time to tinker on it, Caess considered. Perhaps it was the direct way he wired the circuit pathways, or maybe the resonating tank had failed to filter the frequency and… This wasn’t the time to troubleshoot his tinkered tech; Caess decided and reined in his train of thought immediately.
“I am doing something,” the stocky stone skinned scavenger admitted without any attempt to mask the urgency he was feeling. “The smart thing to do right now is try to make for a tactical retreat and hope to avoid getting shot in the back! I suggest you do the same, unless you feel obligated to find out if Wynt and Briscole are waiting for you before they shuffle along.”
Dyzon tried his best to study the man still standing in the same spot where he had shown up at. For all his effort he couldn’t read him at all, he had made no move towards him. This silent sentinel just stood there like a statue with his guns at the ready. Would he show mercy if they fled? Or did a bullet in the back await him as soon as he provided the opportunity?
The idea of running from anyone was tantamou
nt to declaring himself a coward – or worse; Eris’s equal. Both things sickened Dyzon as they crossed his mind. And what of his reputation among the people of Redemption, what of the image everyone had come to expect from the Bloody Bachelor?
This was surely a sign of weakness if ever there was one. And after a similar showing from Dizcords Daemons, there was little to keep the town from turning against them. Even with Arbiter on their side, or the Mayor to spin things, this could easily spell the end to the way things had been for them.
Taurus would no doubt hold him personally responsible. That fact was inevitable and left him little option; he could either die here and now or take his chances running. If he ran he might live long enough to rectify the situation by finding a way to take out this Gauntlet character. And even then once the Red Bull received word he would be as good as anyone else occupying a grave. There would be no where to hide or any way to outrun his reach.
“Time to roll the dice,” Dyzon declared through gritted teeth. Caess had had enough good sense to slowly reposition himself behind the driver’s seat and await his peer’s move before he himself did anything. It would simply have been better odds to floor it and save his own hide if Dyzon had chosen to take his chances in a gunfight.