The Flats

Memory- A New Life.

Twenty Years ago.

The Thief knew he’d walked into shit storm but it was the kind of room you couldn’t walk out of once you’d stepped through the door. The Girl with revolver kind of gave off that vibe and the dead man slumped on the desk backed her up.

The Thief slowly raised his hands.

“There’s no problem here I never really liked…”

“Shut up. Nobody likes their fence.”

The Thief sighed.

“Hand it over, I don’t have to worry about noise here.”

He recognised the girl from the night before, not her face but the way she carried herself, loose yet alert with confidence. He also recognised the smell Jasmine or something like it. She didn’t look like how he imagined, with the mask and tough attitude he’d assumed tightly cropped hair and maybe a few battle scars. Her brunette hair was cut in a neat bob while her attractive face was unmarred. She looked to be around his age but looked at him like he were a child.

He’d met her inside the Wainwright Ranch in the dressing room of Mrs Wainwright. He’d been on a job and about to leave when he met her. Sometimes Two thieves bumped into each other on Hot Prowls especially with a prize like the Ocean Blue, a 420 Carat Sapphire set in the finest silverwork known on the Flats. It had travelled far to wind up in The Thief’s hands and the second he felt in in his palm he also felt the revolver against his neck.

He froze but then relaxed, he was staying silent to avoid detection and whoever had found him hadn’t fired which meant they were doing the same.
“You’re not going to shoot.” He whispered, aware the wainwrights were only in the next room and the place was crawling with guards.

The Thief turned from the safe and straightened up when he felt the weapon fall from his neck. He turned to face a woman dressed all in black with only her green eyes exposed.

“Adorable costume what’s the occ…”

“Shut up, give me the jewel.” She said quietly.

The Thief had no intention of handing over the Jewel, it was the biggest score of his life and he’d invested too much time and beads into getting it.

“Look we’ve both worked hard to get this so let’s talk deal.”

“I don’t deal.” She hissed as she pulled out a fencing sword.

“We’ve been over this, I’ll scream then we’ll both be in a world crap.” The Thief muttered.

“Not without a windpipe.” She said as she lunged at him.

Silently The Thief bobbed and weaved to avoid the incoming strikes. He got the feeling she wasn’t really trying to get him, more testing his reactions. He rolled to the right and came up with his own sword and rusty a battered looking cutlass.

“Look we can’t do this here. We can deal or arrange to slice each other up later but I’m not handing it over.”

A creak outside the door ended the conversation.

The handle of the door slowly twisted.

The pair stared at the handle which clicked.

Locked.

An explosion of buck shot tore the lock away and blasted the door open.

Time to leave The Thief thought. He looked back towards the woman but she was already making her way to the nearest window. By the time he got there she was
already through, The Thief poked his head out and looked up in time to see the woman’s foot come down on his face.

He fell out of the window and heard another roar from the shotgun. He landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. He was glad Mr Wainwright had shown when he had as it broke negotiations between him and The other Thief. He’d never seen her before and he didn’t recognise most of her gear but there was no time to focus on the mystery woman. He could hear the Wainwright Guards rushing towards him.

Quickly The Thief made his way to the stables and grabbed the first horse he saw. He then opened the gate and rushed the rest of the horses out into the Flats, no sense in the animals dying for his bad luck. There wasn’t time for a saddle so he just leapt on his steed, as he left he tossed a small smoke bomb into a pile of hay which quickly ignited.

“Should keep them occupied.” He thought as he sent the horse racing from the ranch.

He didn’t look back and figured if he ever saw the woman again it would be too soon.

Too soon was barely a day later in the office of his Fence the ironically named “Honest Sam Lovell”. Who was now “Dead Honest Sam Lovell” slumped over his desk.

“You shot Sam?”

“Yep he saw my face my face but you’ll be glad to know he told me all about you. I know where you sleep.”

“That an offer?” Thief said with crude smile.

“Only offer I’m making is the Ocean Blue for your life.”

“I’d take it.” A deep voice said behind him. The Thief inwardly sighed he hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room and knew he was trapped.

“Alright what’s to stop you killing me the second I hand it over?”

“My kind nature.” She said without a hint of a smile.

The thief sighed and pulled the Jewel out of his pocket.

“You had it on you?” She said incredulously.

“Safest place for it.”

“Clearly, hand it to my associate.”

He didn’t turn but instead handed the Jewel over his shoulder. He felt a strong hand clasp the Jewel and made his move.

Moving quickly he dropped to one knee and thrust his right elbow back. It caught the man behind him square in the groin. The Thief was counting on the woman not firing as it would endanger her associate. He spun around 180 degrees on his knee and shot to his feet bringing his knee up and into the large man’s nose. He then vaulted over the man, turned, grabbed a fist full of hair and wrenched the large Man’s head back.

The man was tall much taller than the thief had thought so he kicked out at the Man’s knees keeping him off balance as he reached into the Man’s holster and pulled out a revolver which he pressed against the man’s temple.

The Thief’s eyes fell on the Ocean Blue that had landed on the floor during the tussle.

He then looked at the Women who kept the Revolver pointed at The Thief.

“Alright, now we talk.” The Thief said.

Silence descended on the room.

“So talk, you broke my bloody nose.” The large man slurred.

“I’m not annoyed you killed Sam, he’s ripped me off more than enough in the past and probably had it coming, but I’m getting sick of you pointing firearms at me.” The Thief said.

“I told you he was good Ivan.” The woman said to the big man.

“Yeah I love him already.”

“Look I’m going to put my cards on the table here. I have no interest in this trinket, my only wish was to kill Mr Lovell.” She said nodding at Sam.

“Why?” The Thief asked.

“Reasons.”

“So let me take it and go.”

“I want to, but I also want to offer you an opportunity.”

“What?”

“Work with us you have the right attitude and with a few months of polishing you could have a very lucrative lifestyle.”

“Come on, you’ll have to try much harder than that.” The Thief said shaking his head.

The woman lowered her gun and pushed Sam’s body to the floor before sitting in the dead man’s chair. She put her feet up on the desk and produced a pipe.

“Do you know of The White group?”

“The White Group? Are you kidding? You’re scraping the barrel here Sweetheart. Any other Conspiracy theories you want to float? Father Singh being an Oni maybe?”

“It’s true.”

“Ha so you’re telling me I got the drop on two Assassins who, if the stories are to be believed, can walk through walls and kill a man with mind bullets?”

“That’s telekinesis, and those are just stories. Besides who said you had the drop on anyone?”

Like a dog that had just been let off a lead Ivan threw his head backwards and smashed into The Thief’s face. He then reached back and grabbed The Thief with one hand before throwing him over his shoulder. The thief crashed into floor and weakly brought the revolver up which Ivan simply kicked away.

The big man reached down and lifted the Thief to his feet before going to retrieve his weapon.

“Told you.” She said as she handed The Thief the Ocean Blue.

“Thanks.” The Thief said while he tried to get his blushing under control.

“The scores would be much bigger than this.”

The Thief looked at the Ocean Blue and at Sam’s body.

“Ok, where do I sign?”

“I sign, in Blood.”

The Thief turned to see Ivan’s fist driving for his face.

#

The Thief awoke in a cold room with a well-dressed man sitting opposite him.

“Where am I?” He groaned.

“Ah you’re awake, Mr Charles.”

“That’s not my name…”

“It is now. The man you were is dead. Alongside Mr Lovell, seems the entire office burnt to a cinder.”

“So it’s true?”

“What is?”

“You’re… The White Group?”

“No, I’m Fawkes but I’m a member of the White Group, The ringleader if you will.”

“So what now?”

“Training.”

The Woman and Ivan appeared from the shadows behind him. The Thief wished they would stop simply emerging from dark corners.

“I trust you remember Ivan and Clementine, They’ll be seeing to your training.”

#

The Present.

Mister Charles looked around His office, the same room he’d met Fawkes in all those years ago. He didn’t know it then but the three people in that room were to become the most important in his life. He’d seen them all die but he still had his memories.

The Ocean Blue hung in his office which had been Fawkes’ before him, he never sold it and true to her word Clem had no interest in it. There had been a time he wanted to give it to her but now it just hung on the wall, gleaming despite the low light.

He turned and looked at the stack of Papers sitting in front of him.

#


The Jobs.

Curtain Call.

Location: New Mesa

Target: Alfonzo Guerra

Information: Guerra is a highway man turned Gunfighter who in-between duels preforms a trick shooting show at New Mesa’s Ginger Cat Pub. The show makes him a fair income but it ensures him a never ending stream of challengers who Guerra will only fight in return for a hefty payment. As he sees it he’s already the best so why should he not get paid to fight.

The client wishes Guerra to die in a very public fashion so no sneaking through the window in middle of the night. They also stipulate that Guerra’s nickel plated revolvers are to be recovered as a trophy.

Guerra employs two bodyguards who were childhood friends of Guerra’s and should be considered very dangerous as well as loyal. They are Pepe and Diego Silvia, a pair of brothers who are known brawlers. Both are famed for their Physical strength and imposing demeanor. They are usually found fairly very close to Guerra. While it is not part of the job to harm the Brothers operatives should be aware of their presence.

Just Deserts

Location: The Badlands, Zeppo’s Camp.

Target: Zeppo

Information: Since Gretch took over New Mesa there has been a power vacuum in The Badlands. One group who simply call themselves Zeppo’s Crew are the odds on favourite to become the next biggest gang. This is because they have been raiding Trade Caravan’s travelling to Farpoint and trading the goods for weapons. We have been tasked by Happy Trail’s Caravan Company to find and kill Zeppo in addition to ensuring his operation is unable to continue in his permanent absence.

To help us in this Happy Trails has provided us with information on Trade Caravan routes. It’s down to the operative how they wish to play it. They can shadow the Caravans from a distance, go undercover as a guard or set out to find Zeppo by other means.
Zeppo is believed to have a penchant for blades and is lethally accurate with throwing knives. Like all Tribals he has a sadistic streak and has been known to torture survivors of his raids for days at a time.

Top tip is Ensure you don’t get caught.

Target: Alfonzo Guerra
Occupation: Ex-highwayman turned gunfighter (Does trick shooting in between duels)
Plan: Watch Guerra's show from behind the cover of the crowd when he takes a bow cut his head off, grab the pistols and run (If necessary shoot the brothers with the revolver).

It only took one step into new mesa for Alexander to realize what a true shit hole was. As he walked down the street all he saw were casinos, bars, hookers, and shady looking people hanging about. Alexander stopped at the first person he saw that didn't look like a hooker or bandit and asked, "Excuse me mam, but would you happen to know were a Ginger Cat Pub resides within this city would you?" The twenty something woman replied to him, "What business would a proper looking young man like you have in that hole?" "Heard there was a gunslinger there that put on a pretty good show." Alexander replied with a slight twinkle in his eye and the smile that could make most anyone melt. The woman stuttered slightly and said, "I-I'll take you over their myself." "I would really appreciate if you would." Alexander replied as she began walking towards the pub. "It's a good distance off." she said while beckoning for him to go down an alley way before her. That made him suspicious, this was basically a kill zone just then he saw movement on the roof and drew his sword. He heard sudden movement behind him as the woman ran toward him with a knife pointed out. He spun around slicing the armed hand off then decapitating her. Using his years of experience he manages to avoid every drop of blood. Then the rest of the bandits poured from the roof tops, there were five of them not including the now dead woman. The biggest and dumbest looking one stepped forward with a blunderbuss pistol pointed straightish at Alexander whom then realized that pretty much all the bandits were drunk. The man pulled the trigger and the gun didn't even spark he had forgotten to light the blasting string. Alexander laughed slightly as the bandits ran forward at him with clubs and cleavers. The biggest man got there first and used a wide overhead swing, Alexander just ran the man through the liver with a classical fencing stab. Then the other men were on him and Alexander blocked or dodged every hit flawlessly killing two more. This is when Alexander noticed that there were only three men fighting him, he looked around and found the final man climbing about on the roof tops about to jump on Alexander. But, as Alexander looked at the man on the roof the bandit on the ground saw this as an opportunity. He kicked Alexander in the leg and Alexander's leg bowed and just then the rooftop bandit pounced down on top of Alexander pinning him to the ground. Alexander lost hold of his sword and drew his stiletto stabbing the man in the kidney twice and pushed him off. The second man came forward with a massive downward swing with his cleaver. Alexander dogged just in the nick of time and drove his stiletto up under the bandits chin. "Well that was a PAIN IN MY ASS!" Alexander yelled whilst picking up his rapier. But, when Alexander looked forward he saw the pub and said, "Well I guess it wasn't all a loss after all." Alexander searched the bandits and came up with a couple of pieces of jewelry that may have been worth something, but other than that the bandits must have been completely incompetent.

He then walked forward into the pub and Alexander traded one of the pieces of jewelry for a beer and sat back for the show to start. The man came forward with a little bow then turned and shot the beer right out of Alexander's hand. Alexander smiled and gave a slight clap. The man's show continued wowing the crowd. Alexander looked around and saw the two brother's sitting ready to pounce on anyone that attacked the gunman. The show came to an end with an applause from everyone Alexander included. The man took a bow and that is when Alexander struck. He drew his rapier and crossed the five feet to the man in literally a blink of an eye. He cut for the mans neck, but the man moved and redrew his pistols then fired at Alexander who manages to dodge at the last second behind another man now filled with hot lead. Alexander came forward again this time making at least some contact as he stabbed straight threw the mans left hand and followed up with a stiletto strike aimed for the mans eye, but it was grabbed midair by one of the brothers who's fist slammed into Alexanders noes with enough power to send him sprawling. Alexander tried to stand, but the two brothers were on top of him in an instant which was lucky because it blocked Alfonzo's shot. Alexander then swept around with his rapier cutting off one of the brother's legs. He used his momentum to catch the other brother off guard and cut his arm off. Now that Alexander was on his feet he used his agility to doge in between tables and counters to stay out of Alfonzo's line of fire. Soon he was in striking range and stabbed forward with a flurry that was mostly blocked with the gunslingers guns, but one got through and buried it's self deep into the other mans neck killing him instantly. Alexander then grabbed up his guns and put them in his waist band. He almost ran out the door, but went back to the bar and grabbed a gigantic bottle of whiskey then ran out and headed back to base with a few bruises and a couple of bullet grazes he figured it was a pretty good job... if a little sore over his entire body and really tired and now drunk.
Target: Eliminated and plated pistols in operatives hands

Takes what’s yours and makes it his.

Location: Farpoint

Target: The Spruce Framed Havelock Rifle.

Information: Robert Willan is a dealer of rare antiquities based in Farpoint or rather a Grand Airship called the Parnassus floating over the city. His business dealings have made him fantastically wealthy, to the point that he no longer actually hunts for artefacts but rather does the research then sends out teams of mercenaries to retrieve the item. The rest of his time is spent entertaining other wealthy people as well as local women of ill repute from Farpoint.

Recently he acquired the Spruce Framed Havelock Rifle considered to be the rarest old world fire arm still in existence. Wilian keeps the rifle as a prize in his drawing room which in the centre of the Parnassus and is very well defended. The client wants the rifle, collateral damge is entirely up to the operative.

He employs numerous security measures on the Parnassus while will make infiltration difficult these include but are not limited to heavily armed Mercenary pirates on the ship, an airlock design that means each door can be locked on the ship thus containing attackers on the upper decks while a response is coordinated and a detachable section that can allow a quick escape. However the most lethal countermeasure is Mercenary called Miss Globe.

Miss Globe is the Ochilian chief of security and a skilled fencer she is also a very experienced in the Ochilian martial arts. Her skills once marked her out for selection to the White Group however her recruitment never took place due to her seeming contentment as Wilian’s security Chief.
Wilian himself shouldn’t present much of an obstacle however he is apparently skilled with a bull whip.

Everyone lived odd hours in the Sanctuary, and Arachne Webspinner was no exception. For her, dawn was the middle of her "day", which ensured she'd have enough time to accomplish anything important before people awoke, but she would also get to visit vendors or other day-goers. This particular morning found her sitting in a dim alcove, practicing her knot-work with a length of twine she'd found. Her favorite knot she called the Cripple's Grip, as it was strong enough to hold a man's weight, but if she pulled the right string then the entire net would come apart. She'd put it to good use on several jobs in the past.

Singing softly to herself as she undid her creation, Arachne scanned the room under her quickly. Something below caught her eye, however, as Mr. Charles had posted two new jobs on the board outside his office. She stowed her rope in a pouch on her harness and broke out her climbing hooks. The rafters were a dangerous place to the unprepared, after all. Her scuttling passed without mishap, though, and she descended with practiced ease.

"Always puttin' the papers so damn lofty..." Arachne complained to no-one in particular. Reaching over her head, she yanked down both papers to read.

"Let us take a peek..Scummy gunslinger in New Mesa. Public bumping and nip the revolvers? Plus, two meatblocks who play tag along. Sounds too heated for my liking." After a few minutes deliberation, she decided against that contract and swapped it for the other.

"So, what's this one scoffin? 'Nother scummer wastelanding about. 'Zeppo'? What a stupid moniker! Hmm...Hello! What's this? 'It’s down to the operative how they wish to play it,' eh? You're a saint, Mr. Charles. Sabotage and murder my way? Winter solstice come early, methinks!"

Arachne replaced the New Mesa contract on the board, though not without a fair bit of swearing and jumping. She returned to her hidey-hole in the rafters to examine her stash and plan.

"No needs to be hasty, right? We've time, we do. Best make the most of it," she whispered, mostly to reassure herself. The pre-mission jitters were already on her, causing her hands to shake slightly. After sorting through all of it, she decided to bring her sand colored garb and cloak, her bow and arrows, tunneling spades, various smoke bombs, and her poisoning dagger.

Anything else, she'd have to procure in the field, not that she minded. A spider would want it no different, after all. Finally ready, Arachne stopped by Mr. Charles' office to pick up the maps and details promised in the contract before setting off. As she stepped out into the slowly brightening world, Arachne flipped up her hood to shield her face from prying eyes.

For two days she followed the charts, doggedly pursuing what should be a trading caravan. On the dawn of the third day, Arachne stumbled upon evidence of other humans being on the same path as her. She slowed her pace, but did not change her behavior or mannerisms. The best camouflage is to hide in plain sight, just like the crab spider. Mimicry can be a powerful tool.

As the sun began to set, a thick column of smoke came into view on the horizon, indicating that she was too late. Arachne ducked sideways into the less traveled dunes and picked up her pace. Nearer to the caravan, manic shouts and agonized screams drifted over her, hinting that her quarry lay before her. She ascended a particularly tall dune and dug a small divot to crawl into so she didn't alter the horizon line. The caravan was set ablaze, the merchants still inside the wagons. The women had been divided up amongst the bandits, who were indulging their wickedness upon them. Arachne sat patiently for many hours, awaiting the inevitable sleep cycle that must come upon them.

Zeppo's gang surprised her, however, as once they'd finished tormenting their captives, they chained them together and began their trek home. The wastelanders moved surprisingly quickly, though it was no challenge for an Ochil like her to keep up with them. They arrived at a fenced in compound around midnight to the cheering group they'd left behind. Within minutes, the screams resumed as the men left behind got a piece of the spoils to sample. Using the distraction, Arachne scaled the perimeter wall and crept along it towards the rear of the compound, where she assumed Zeppo would keep his sleeping quarters.

As luck would have it, the most lavishly decorated tent was indeed where the man bedded down for the night, though he wasn't in at that time. It didn't matter to her. Arachne cut a small slit in the corner of the tent and peeked through. Most of the floor was covered in rugs or pillows, but a fair amount of sand still showed through the ground. Perfect spot for an assassin to hide. She carefully dug herself into the sand, keeping a small slit of her hood exposed so she could maintain vigil of the tent. Hours passed uneventfully, so Arachne used the time to rest and catch a quick catnap.

A loud, abrasive voice shook her awake at last. Zeppo entered his tent with three women, shouting at his guards to go make themselves useful elsewhere. After a moment of glaring at the entrance to his tent, Zeppo turned to his terrified captives and resumed ravaging them. The night must have been hard on him, though, because he tired quickly and went to sleep. Seizing the opportunity, Arachne emerged from her hidey-hole as silently as possible. Quickly applying a particularly nasty type of poison to her needle-like dagger, Arachne plunged it into her target's neck. Almost instantly, Zeppo snapped awake and countered with a straight punch to the face. The three women seemed to have died sometime over the night, so it was just the two of them. Zeppo tried to scream for help, but she'd punched a hole in his windpipe and all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

Still, poisoned and bleeding, Zeppo didn't plan on dying like a little bitch. He drew a curved, serrated knife from his belt and lunged for Arachne. She ducked his first swing, countering with another stab to the stomach and then withdrawing. He wasn't having any of it, though. Arachne began to worry that this man was immune to her poison, as he certainly showed no signs of being any the worse for wear. Zeppo caught her off guard with an underhanded knife toss which sliced through her lower calf. Arachne barely restrained her cry of pain, but couldn't react in time to stop him from closing the distance between them.

Needing to end this quickly, Arachne jumped forward and closed her jaws around her opponent's throat, simultaneously releasing a deadly toxin and slicing through an artery in his neck. Not even the toughest creature could withstand having its throat torn open, and Zeppo was no exception. Defeated at last, the bandit leader collapsed on the floor with hatred in his eyes as the lifeblood drained away onto the rug. Arachne tore a strip from his shirt to bandage her leg and ducked through the hole she'd cut. She needed to return home before the rest of these bandits discovered her deed. Arachne climbed the rear wall, though not without an increased effort due to her wound, and dropped onto the sand below.

A week's passing found her back at the safehouse, exhausted but jubilant. She'd completed the contract and lived to see home once more. Her leg had healed up a bit, but her constant use prevented the wound from closing completely or correctly. She'd most likely walk with a limp after this.

Knocking lightly on Mr. Charles' door, Arachne reported in. "Zeppo won't be doin' no terror on the caravans these days, he won't," she boasted. "I'm a bit tucked, so's I'm gonna have some lax time now." Limping away, Arachne curled up on a cushy pillow and slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

Location: Farpoint
Target: The Spruce Framed Havelock Rifle.

A cloaked figure strode through Farpoint, seeming always to blend in the shadows, just another part of the swarming, noisy crowd. Even though it was midday, the large shadows of countless airships covered nearly the whole town. Small shafts of light streamed through, highlighting various piles of refuse and rubbish that served as houses and buildings. A solid kick could probably knock even the most well built shanty to the ground. Countless people, filthy and dressed in rags, swarmed through the streets. All the rich floated above in their airship palaces, unconcerned with the happenings below.

The cloaked woman, Adalin Nix, finally reached her destination, a small, dingy building that served as a tavern. The interior was nearly hotter than it was outdoors, and the floor was hard packed dirt. Rickety chairs and tables were haphazardly strewn about the room. The bar was already nearly full of people ready to spend their weeks wages on the cheap beer. Adalin took a seat in an unoccupied corner and spread out a schematic of the Parnassus that she had acquired earlier along with a Skyhook, lock picks, and some Somnus, a liquid that, if inhaled, would render a person unconscious. Ada preferred to avoid unnecessary killing if possible.

She looked carefully over the faded map, noting how old it seemed. Ada would have to be ready to adjust if new things had been built. She noticed that the airlock design was missing from this particular map, and she wondered what other surprises she might encounter. The guards should not be a problem, she could easily take them out with the Somnus. However, once she took out the first guard, she would have a severe time limit. Once the alarm was raised, her mobility would be severely limited because of those airlock doors. As long as she encountered no major unexpected complications....

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. The young man wore a black outfit complete with a bright read armband that bore the symbol of the Lion-Heart Mercenaries. She had dealings with that group when she had been a wandering mercenary herself. He was boasting of how they had just gotten contacted by Robert Willan for one of his expeditions. Several men gave him a good-natured clap on the shoulder. A contract from Mr. Willan always had a hefty paycheck. The young man, Treven if she recalled correctly, loudly ordered a round for everyone and a loud cheer went up. Ada watched him over loosely folded hands, a contemplative look on her face. As she remembered, Hamud, the leader of the Lion-Hearts, owed her his life, among other things. It seemed she had God's favor on this mission.

A couple hours later, thoroughly inebriated, Treven stumbled out with Ada silently following. He stumbled into a camp at the edge of the city. Ada stood just outside the firelight, letting her eyes adjust as she took in the scene. The group had grown since she had last worked with them. Her eyes passed over at least a dozen of the rowdy mercenaries before she found Hamud sitting alone watching his men. After a moment, she circled around the camp and silently entered the light, lowering her hood and shaking out her hair as she came up beside him. Hamud jerked when he saw her in the corner of his sight and stared a moment before relaxing. "Oh, it's you, Nyx. Been a while. Lookin' for work again?" She nodded once and he continued. "Well, you're in luck. I could use someone like you. Just gotta contract from Robert Willan, yeah, you know 'im. Gonna go see him tomorrow to make it official and find out what we're after. Gonna be a good job. Set us up for a while. You in?"

She paused a moment, as if considering. "Yes, I would not mind going with you to your meeting. I do not think I will be along for the mission though."
"Your up to somthin', aren't you. Never mind, I don't wanna know, do I?" At questioning her look, he gave a heavy sigh, "Yes, yes, I know. I owe you. Fine, come along, but I don't want any part of what you're doin', you hear?"

That next day, the group went out and bought supplies and made themselves ready for the mission. Ada stayed out of sight, not wanting to associate herself with them so they would not be held accountable for her actions. By nightfall, it was time for the meeting and everything had been prepared. Hamud took only a few of his men and Ada, leaving the rest to pack up the camp. They arrived at the air tower the Parnassus was docked at and strode aboard.

With two burly guards guiding them, they soon came close to the center of the ship. Ada began to shift to the back of the group. As they turned the corner that led to the office, Ada slipped away and hid in a small closet. She waited until she heard the group leave again to make sure her absence went unnoticed. As soon as all was quiet again, she slipped out of the supply closet, carefully checking the hall for any sign of life. Seeing no one, she sneaked down the hall to the drawing room. She jiggled the handle, but the door was locked, of course. Kneeling down, she reached for her lock picks and set to work. One broken lockpick and an agonizing minute later, the door popped open.

Adalin walked in, her eyes immediately falling on gorgeous rifle mounted prominently on the wall. It was no wonder the client wanted it. She had never seen a more beautiful gun. Just as Ada removed it from its mountings, she heard the door click closed behind her and cursed herself for her lack of attention. She whirled, taking in a small, dangerous looking Ochilian woman, with a rapier drawn and pointed at Ada from across the desk. So this must be Miss Globe. She set the rifle on the desk and drew her sword. Her daggers would be of little use now that she did not have surprise in her favor.

Miss Globe looked at her with a disdainful interest. Obviously, she thought she could easily defeat this thief in the night. Ada took a fighting stance, blade held up in front of her before her left eye. Globe made the first move, darting around the desk and striking at Ada's stomach almost faster than the eye could follow. Ada dodged and met Globe's blade with her own, a sharp clang ringing through the room. Globe almost seemed surprised, but recovered quickly as she parried Ada's return stroke. They dove and lunged and shuffled around the room, blades clanging together almost faster than the eye could see in a deadly dance. Neither missed a step and a small smile appeared on Ada's face, but this only served to infuriate Miss Globe. Ada was merely enjoying the pleasure that came with fighting with all she had.

As the fight dragged on, Miss Globe's slashes and hacks became filled with rage and her breathing came heavier and heavier. With the pure ferocity of her strokes, she drove Ada into a corner of the room, raining blows upon her with fury. One hit its mark, violently slashing Ada's left shoulder. However, in delivering this stroke, Globe left herself open and unguarded. Without a flinch, Ada brought her sword up to the Ochilian's neck, backing her into the wall. "That was an enjoyable fight, Miss Globe. You did not quite live up to my expectations though," Ada said, a smile lingering on the corners of her mouth. Without making a response, Miss Globe's hand immediately fell to the shelf next to her, knocking over a couple books and triggering a small switch. Immediately, a loud, obnoxious alarm sounded. Ada heard doors whooshing closed with one resounding bang after another.

Taking a Somnus-soaked cloth out of her pouch, she pressed it against the woman's nose and mouth. Within seconds, she slumped limply to the floor. Ada sheathed her weapon and picked the rifle up, sheathing it in a special pocket she had attached to her sword sheath specifically for this mission. Knowing that there was no escaping through the now closed off halls, Ada went to the large window and smashed it with the handle of the Skyhook she brought. Sitting in the window, she ignored the sharp pieces that still lingered there and aimed at the lower gondola of a nearby airship. Whith a loud whirring, the projectile launched off into the night, firmly attaching itself on a railing.

Just as she heard heavy steps pounding down the hall, she pushed off, swinging into the night. Midway down, she realized the line was going to be a bit short. When she was in the middle of her swing, she let go, falling the last fifteen feet to a scrap metal roof. Legs outstretched, she hit the roof with a loud bang, crumpling into a ball and rolling as the house fell. Her left shoulder and foot took the brunt of the impact, and she grunted in pain as her wound began bleeding profusely. She heard the surprised screams of the inhabitants of the house she destroyed as she rolled to a stop and sprung to her feet with a wince.

She began sprinting as fast as her twisted ankle would allow to the edge of the city, reveling in the rush of adrenaline. This left her all too soon, however, and she slowed to a jog, limping heavily. She tore a small strip of cloth from her shirt and tightly wrapped her shoulder. At least it had stopped bleeding for the most part. She continued until the sun rose, putting as much distance as possible between her and the city. She would not like to be found by Robert Willan's mercenaries, not in her condition.

She stopped in the shade of an overhanging rock, and sat down heavily. She did not dare remove her foot from her boot even though it was getting painfully tight, but she did loosen the bindings slightly. She knew she would not be able to get it on again if she took it off, and that would be unwise since she still had a day's travel ahead of her. Instead, she took the rifle out and carefully checked it for damage. Once she was satisfied, she replaced it in the hidden sheath and fell asleep.

Upon waking, she took a small drink of water and stood, but had a difficult time even walking. Nevertheless, walk she did and it slowly got easier as the blood began to flow again. She determinedly made her way back to the White Group Workshop. They day past slowly and painfully, but she was steadily getting closer. Finally, she arrived and proceeded to the Office. Setting the rifle on the desk, she gave him a nod before limping out to her room.

She cleaned her shoulder wound and sewed it closed with a clean needle and thread with an odd familiarity. This was not the first time she had stitched herself up, nor would it be the last. She dragged herself to her bed and unstrapped her weapons and cloak, setting them against her nightstand. Finally, she unlaced first her right boot then her painful left with a small gasp of pain. Wrapping it with a wet, cool cloth, she set pillows under the injured foot and fell into a deep sleep.

Memory- Training.

Mister Charles didn’t love the White Group, not now, he was no longer capable of that. He understood it though and in many ways was the living embodiment of the White Group yet the Workshop brought him pain, from the memories it conjured.
However pain had always been part of his life in the Workshop, even in the early days when Ivan was teaching him how to fight like an assassin.

“Your style is about creating space, this makes sense as you were a thief and thieves defend themselves by concealment and escape. This will not serve you well here. Everyone in the White Group has their own style built around their abilities. I’m here to help you develop you own unique method of unarmed combat by offering some observations I’ve made over the years.”

Ivan was the White Group’s combat Expert back then, he didn’t use finesse or stealth to achieve his goals, just strength and superior firepower. His height and muscular bulk made any other way of fighting nonsense.

The Lessons were hard learned as Ivan didn’t really pull his punches when sparring, he said that it didn’t create a true representation of full combat. He was right of course but that didn’t mean Charles liked getting manhandled by the Mountain of muscle.

“Aggression is key my friend, you must always focus on creating maximum damage with as few moves as possible. There is no such a thing as a single knockout punch or at least there is no such reliable thing. Bones, organs and joints are reliable. Break a man’s leg and he cannot chase you. Break his fingers, he cannot shoot you. You must understand your violence must be brutal but efficient. All those flips and kicks you do, while pretty, ultimately achieve nothing if you fail to cause enough damage.” Ivan explained.

Charles started to work on his strength almost as much as his agility to give him more power and stamina during fights. He started to read medical texts with a particular interest in pressures points and joints. He brought this knowledge to his sparring sessions and Ivan began to notice.

“You see? Economy of movement is the most important thing you need to know in unarmed combat. Aggression must be controlled and released in these short movements. Now we move to the Sword.”

#

He found his sessions with Clementine to be more enjoyable these focused on agility and stealth, things Charles was already competent in. Within a week Clementine was confident in his abilities and they started going on field trips. They started simply by a bit of dipping and
shop lifting but soon they were on prowls on land and in the air.

For Charles these sessions were enjoyable because he excelled but also because he got to show her his abilities. He knew he was developing feelings for the woman but she wasn’t like the women he normally went for, to begin she was sober.

#

Fawkes was the leader of the White Group and rarely left the Workshop, Charles got the idea he was doing a lot more than just telling the assassins what to do but knew better than to pry. His main association with Fawkes was at the Firing range where the older man put him through his paces with various firearms. Charles had never fired an Old World gun before he joined the White Group, now it was a daily occurrence but back then it had been mind blowing.

“Habit, is what firing a revolver is all about. Fire one enough and it becomes an extension of the body much like a Master Blade’s Sword becomes an extension of himself, a Duellist’s pistols become an extension of his body.”

Fawkes had then handed Charles a revolver. The same Revolver Charles was looking at now, it was hanging on the wall of his office and hadn’t been fired for years. The reason was out of respect as this was the gun that had killed Fawkes.


Epilogues

Rice Carver of the Happy Trails Caravan Company looked at the reports on his desk, the fact they were there told him the Assassin had been worth it. The Caravans were getting through and trade was resuming. Zeppo had obviously met his end.

Of course now he had another problem, he hadn’t paid the White Group, the man who did that now stood in his office.

“I trust your problems have been solved?”

“Yes but I must ask why did you decide to help the company?”

“We both had an interest in seeing Mr Zeppo being removed. I didn’t wish to interact with the assassins directly so I used you as a middle man.”

“So that’s it?”

“Yes I have no further need of you or your company.”

“Oh.” Carter was relieved but there was something off about this man. His skin was a very pale and his accent suggested he wasn’t from The Flats.

“As I said before I’m a deeply private person and don’t wish my involvement in this matter to become anyone’s knowledge but our own.”

“Of course.” Carter got the feeling that the man was threatening him, subtly of course but it was there, in the edge to the Pale Man’s voice.

#

Miss Globe awoke and her hands instinctively went to her head to block any incoming attacks.

Slowly her mind caught up with instinct and the fight came back to her. The alarms had stopped and she was no longer in the Drawing Room but in the Mercenary quarters of the Parnassus.

She let out a roar of frustration and got to her feet.

#

“How could you let this happen? I was told you were the best? What exactly am I paying you for!?”

Wilian had not been understanding and she hadn’t expected him to be. The shame of failure burned her deeply and only her dark Ochillian skin saved her the shame of blushing in front of the man. Her pride was wounded along with her reputation, for an Ochil of her stature that
was unacceptable.

“Mr Wilan, you have my word the Rifle will be recovered and the intruder dispatched.”

That was all she said after Wilian had spent half an hour screaming at her.

She meant it.

As soon as the meeting ended she felt the shame fade and the fury build. Normally if a Man spoke to her like that he would he dead before he was a dozen syllables in but Wilian was her employer and he was right. Both things made the rage burn all the hotter.

“You did not quite live up to my expectations though.”

The jibe had hurt to and Miss Globe’s anger just continued to build until it suddenly broke and became controllable. She felt pain in her
hands and looked at her bloody palms. She was so angry and had balled her fists so tightly her nails had drawn blood.

She remained calm and thought logically. There had to be an insider, aware of their betrayal or not, but someone knew something and she was going to find out who. First she would need help to round up the Lion Heart Mercenaries and then see if they lived up to their name.

#

Hamud had been useless and killed himself before Miss Globe could conduct her ‘interview’. Others had been more forthcoming given the right motivation.

#

Treven was suspended by his wrists hanging over a pit, with his legs dangling over a starving, pack of dogs in the pit below him. His panicked flailing seemed to be get the dogs more riled up.

Miss Globe had to shout to be heard over the dogs.

“Who Stole the Rifle?”

“I don’t... what are you doing?” Treven moaned.

Miss Globe put her thumb down and Treven was dropped into the pit putting his legs within range of the snarling animals. He screamed as they bit at his legs, angry teeth tearing into his limbs.

Miss Globe watched for a few moment before bringing him back up.

“These dogs like Sausages, I’ll make sure they can reach yours next time.”

Treven was panting heavily. He’d tried to kick the dogs but there were just too many, his trousers were now a bloody mess and his legs ached. He watched his blood dripped onto the flurry of gnashing teeth below him.

“A woman, Hamud was speaking to a woman.”

Miss Globe became intrigued, so far he was the only one who had mentioned anything remotely related to the intruder.

“Tell me more.”

#

The dogs got their meal but apparently the boy didn’t agree with them so what was left of his body remained in the pit.

Miss Globe now had a name, Nyx, which wasn’t much but more than she began with.

Her new team consisted of just five, including herself, all were good at what they did and once more they owed her a favour. This Nyx was dead, it was just a matter of when.

Jobs.

Angel of Death.

Location: New Mesa, The Cavalier Building.

Target: Stella Knock, Jenks (Possibly).

Information: Stella Knock is an informant for the White Group who provides me with information regarding Gretch’s Organisation. As you all remember Gretch is the leader of New Mesa after a bloody coup inventively called the Battle of New Mesa or Kill Fat Nick Day.

Since killing Fat Nick, Gretch has mainly kept the status quo by continuing to run Fat Nick’s Casino and keeping the town in check with his own brand of brutal justice. Street executions and gory displays of ‘criminals’ is now common, perhaps suggesting Gretch’s tribal past.

Stella Knock is a dancer in the Casino and as such is privy to all sorts of information about Gretch and his organisation. However she was caught at one of our dead drops leaving some information for later retrieval. Stella was taken by Gretch’s men to the Cavalier Building, an old world building that was some kind of meeting hall that Gretch now uses as a storage area for Arms, Alcohol (pick some up if you get the chance) and whatever else he can sell in New Mesa.

Knock is no doubt being interrogated quite heavily by a man called Jenks who deals with internal security in Gretch’s organisation. I’d say Knock is not having too much fun in his company. Your objective is to get to Stella before she breaks and either rescue or silence her. She is now a liability to the White Group as her cover is blown. While she doesn’t know anything that would jeopardise us it’s probably not good having someone running around talking about us.

It’s up to the operative whether they wish to save or silence Stella Knock.

In the event that Stella has broken Jenks must be dealt with before he can make his report to Gretch who it seems to away at the moment, where exactly is unknown but he’s not in New Mesa.

Jenks is a wiry man and agile fighter who, like Gretch, specialises in the use bladed weapons, including throwing knives and the like. He is very slippery and will use misdirection in battle. The Cavalier Building will be very well defended as it houses Gretch’s wealth. Expect a lot of resistance around areas traditional burglars would use and access to be strictly limited.

Additionally this mission must be sensitive to Gretch’s Business interests, he has used our services in the past and any negative impact on his bottom line affects ours. Damage must not be caused to his goods while assaults on his personnel should be kept to a minimum.

Black Tie

Location: Farpoint.

Target : Hamish Waker, Petra Walker, Mary Walker

Information: Everyone in this room probably has something on their person imported by the Walker Clan and their Airships. They started out with a small caravan but quickly moved into Airships thanks to their father’s business acumen. Now Jones Walker is at death’s door and his four children’s minds have turned to who will inherit the company and fortune.

Mary is the youngest at only thirteen and has the weakest claim to the fortune however it is highly likely she will be included in some shape or form as she is her father’s favourite. It’s reported she reminds the old man of her mother. Petra is the third oldest and has a reasonable claim. She is 21 and involved with Lance Baggins, another useless person from a wealthy family. She enjoys being rich, vapid and hedonistic. The parties on her own Airship are reputedly the wildest one can hope to attend. Hamish is the eldest at 31 and has a strong chance of being announced the heir as he impresses his father with his forceful persona. I always found him to be supercilious and a bore, albeit a handsome one.

The second child is Hamish’s non identical twin brother Dylan. Dylan has been the brains of the company during his father’s ill health. He does not look like Hamish and by all accounts is quite sickly looking, yet he is considered to be one of the most intelligent men on The Flats. I’ve only met him once years ago and like his brother found him to be a bore, however unlike his brother the man is a bag of nerves. He is not to be harmed in any way during the operation and if any attempts are made on his life they are to be prevented if possible. He has his own security team but it’s in our interests to keep him alive.

Hamish, Petra and Mary are all to be assassinated however the killings must not implicate Dylan in any way. As the more astute of you may have out together Dylan is the client.

These objectives are to be achieved during a birthday party held in honour of the elderly Jones Walker. I’ve heard it said it’s to be his last and he will most likely appear to be very unwell. Nothing untoward is to happen to him. The party will take place on board The Skywalker, the family’s flagship and is a black tie event so dress accordingly. There will be security people as well as other members of staff you would expect at a society dinner. There will most likely be a high turnover of deliveries to the Skywalker during the day. Staff onboard the ship will not change and is a tight knit group so avoid impersonating them as you will be likely to be found out should you encounter any.

The Desert Dash

Location: Skycove

Target: Corvin Reynolds

Information: Reynolds is apparently an ex-devotee from Hope who escaped and was able to liberate a few books from the Library at Hope. As you know the Library at Hope is a shrine to Old World Technology and as such the books Corvin Reynolds has might contain information about research and development going on at Hope. Valuable information.

Corvin has been on the run for nearly two weeks now and made it as far as Skycove, not bad considering this is probably his first time in the Flats and he’s on foot. He needs a buyer for his book so he can escape The Flats and the homicidal team of Guardians hot on his tail.

That’s right. Guardians.

There’s no way Singh was going to take this lying down so apparently he dispatched four of his best to find Corvin. They will be working as a team which means there is no chance of you taking them. The Guardians of Hope are the only group on the Flats comparable to our own and in terms of skill our only main difference is they use small units while we use single operatives. Engaging the Guardians is suicide.
Therefore your only chance is to get to Corvin first, secure the information (which I’ve been told is two weighty books) and escape.
Maybe setting up Corvin to be killed by the Guardian’s in enough but as I said before do not engage them unless you wish to find yourself out manned and out gunned by a technologically superior foe.

I’m allowing a supply of funds for this Job and you can collect the beads from the armoury. Obviously Corvin cannot know he is selling us the Book the alias is up to you.

Targets: Hamish Walker, Petra Walker, and Mary Walker
Plan: Sneak aboard using a much smaller airship in the dead of night and take out each one of the heirs before the night ends. Get caught on purpose Whilst trying to "kill" Dylan and escape when the chance arises.

Alexander adjusted his silk tie which was part of his most expensive suit that would make anyone jealous no matter how rich. He walked up to the airship dock and found the smallest and shadiest looking boat and captain he could. "I need you to take me to another ship i'll give you 100 for the trip there I wont be needing your help for the trip back." Alexander said. "How far away is this ship?" The man asked. "A couple of hundred feet that way." Alexander said whilst pointing in the direction of the Walker flag ship that just left port. "That's an awfully long trip I think I'll need at least 200." The man replied with a grin. "You'll take what i'm offering you or I will just take my business somewhere else." Alexander said with a slight amount of anger in his voice. "Alright, alright i'll take what your offering." The man said whilst extending his hand Alexander dropped 100 beads into the hand and then they were off. The small ship may not have looked like much from the outside, but it was incredibly fast compared to the Flagship they were chasing, though the flagship was hardly going it's full speed. After about five minutes they were along side the ship.

Their ship was the size of an ant compared to the ship and was in no way noticeable in the darkness of the night. Alexander jumped onto the ship when the coast was clear and the hired captain pealed away making a beeline back to the docks. That was the easy part now to kill the heirs Alexander thought to himself. He decided to start with Petra he figured it wouldn't be hard to get her alone with his good looks and charm. The other two would certainly be a problem though. He began walking towards the front end of the boat were the party was more than likely already on it's way. Soon he saw Petra walking about talking to some of the people on the deck. She began walking his way with a drink in her hands this was his chance. He began walking forward and using his skill as a fencer he stepped in such a way that would make her bump into him without her realizing it was his doing. It worked and he had to grab her by the wrist to stop her from falling to the ground. She dumped the entire glass of red wine onto her self.

She looked like she was about to scream bloody murder when she looked at his face and realized how handsome he was. "Oh my I'm very sorry mam." Alexander said steadying her. "It's quite alright. Why don't you walk me to my room so I can get cleaned up." She replied. "Why I would be honored to." He said with a fabulous grin that really showed of his boyish charm. She blushed slightly and they were on there way down to the lower decks. This was when he noticed they had a shadow following them. He figured it was a guard whom he could dispatch when they reached her room. But, as the walked he realized how bad of a shadow the man following them was. So it wasn't a guard that must mean it was Lance Baggins. When they reached the room the shadow finally spoke up. "You think you can just come down here and have my woman without a fight?" He said whilst running forward obviously about to throw a punch. That was when Alexander had the perfect idea on how to cover up this first murder. Lance threw a big looping punch that was so easy to block Alexander almost yawned. Lance then followed up with another looping punch this one Alexander ducked and used the chance for a take-down he didn't want any bruises on the man that would cause and suspicion. He then wrapped his arm around Lances throat and squeezed cutting off the blood supply to the brain which caused a knock out almost instantly. Alexander then stood up and brushed himself off. "

Wow that was amazing you are and amazing figh..." She was cut off mid sentence by a gigantic left straight which slumped her to the ground and she immediately began to sob as he had just broken her nose. He then dragged them both inside. Lance still knocked unconscious he was easy, but she was a thrasher and was hard to get in the door without making much noise. "I'm not going to kill you, but I might if you don't stop thrashing." he lied. This made her stop and let him drag her inside with ease. He searched around the room and found a knife that was sharp enough to cut through skin and he pocketed it then went up to the girl and said, "I lied." with that he wrapped his hands around her throat and unlike with Lance he cut of her air supply rather then her blood supply which would take twice as long and would be extremely painful, but would look better if the body was found. When her eyes bulged and she stopped struggling he knew she was dead and stopped squeezing. He then moved on to lance who was just regaining conciseness. "I can't believe you murdered that girl Lance. You must feel so guilty you can't take it anymore and just end it." Alexander said whilst quickly grabbing the man by the wrist and slashing straight down the artery causing blood to almost spurt out. At this rate he would pass out in ten seconds and would be dead in 20. When the man was out Alexander wrapped Lance's fingers around the knife to make it look like a murder suicide. Now if someone found these bodies they wouldn't immediately assume that the other heirs were in danger, of course after he killed the second one it wouldn't matter. Now for Mary.

He stepped out of the room when he was sure the coast was clear and climbed his way back up to the deck and looked around for Mary. She would probably be somewhere near the old man being his favorite and all. But, he was wrong she was alone leaning over the edge of the ship. It would be so easy to push her over. So easy in fact he couldn't believe that she was unguarded. He looked around for a while before he finally saw the woman on the roof scanning around with a crossbow. He moved around finally finding a way up to the woman on the roof. He began sneaking toward her when he stepped on a board that made a fairly load creaking sound. The woman turned instantly about to let lose a bolt, Alexander was just fast enough to move so that the bolt pierced his shoulder rather than his head.

He grunted, but still moved forward at and incredible speed tackling the woman to the ground. He pulled out the bolt with a grunt and stabbed it straight into the woman's eye. She twitched a little, but died soon after. He then took the crossbow and put another bolt into it from the woman's bag then he hid the crossbow and jumped down with the dead woman in his arms. The young girl turned at the sound and her eyes widened as she saw that her guard was dead. "Sorry little one." Alexander said and kicked the little girl over the railing. She didn't even make a peep as she fell. Alexander then threw the woman over board whom obviously made even less noise.

Alexander then got back up to the guards spot which had a good view of the main party were he had seen Hamish a little earlier. He took aim with the crossbow it wouldn't be an easy shot nor would it be that hard. He let it lose and it struck Hamish right through the nose. Blood sprayed out onto some of the nearby dancers. The woman Hamish had been dancing with screamed. Alexander had enough time he knew to get away but it was part of his plan to then make a mock attempt on Dylan to be sure he wasn't suspected. Alexander dropped down and drew another bolt back into the crossbow this time taking aim at Dylan. He let it loose and it slammed into the eye of a guard near Dylan. Suddenly several guards were on him. He dogged the first attack that came at him. But, within seconds he was surrounded and another hit him in the back of the head knocking him out almost instantly. Alexander quickly came to which was good, but he was already well bound and being dragged to the brig. They threw him in and he waited almost two hours before someone came in.

"I am Lesley. I will be your interrogator for the day. So why don't you just tell me who sent you to wipe out the Walker line and I will let you live. If you don't give me what I want I'm going to torture you then kill you like the dirty whore you are." The man said whilst setting down a bag that he then opened. It was filled with blades and other tools that made Alexander's skin crawl. "I'm willing to talk if you'll give me a deal." Alexander said while tearing his eyes away from the tools on the table. "I gave you the deal." He said while taking out a hooked blade that Alexander knew was used to peel away the skin. "It was the Baggins. I didn't kill all of them Lance Baggins killed Petra that girl. But, h-he couldn't take it so he offed himself." Alexander said not at all feigning the fear in his voice. He figured they would knock him around a little not send in a professional torturer. The man took the knife to Alexander's pointer finger and pressed it hard enough to draw blood. "You gotta believe me man." Alexander yelled. "Oh I do." he replied and let the knife slip which tore off all the skin from Alexander's finger. Alexander screamed so loud he was sure everyone on the ship heard. The man then put away the knife and took out another tool which was used to put onto fingers and would slowly shatter them to the point that they could never be used again. Just before the man began cranking another came in and whispered into Lesley's ear. "Well it looks like something else has come up. My associate here will finish my job here. He isn't as precise as me though, he prefers to use his fists, but it's just as good." Lesley said while packing up his tools. The new man was a piece of muscle that looked like he could bench a small airship. The fist punch connected with Alexander's face and he saw stars. The second knocked him over with the chair clanging over. He felt this loosen the arm and he finally saw his way out. The muscled man picked him up and punched him again and Alexander fell once again this time knocking the arm of the chair completely lose, but Alexander kept it in place. The man stood Alexander up again when he punched Alexander griped the arm and swung connecting with the mans groin. He fell over with a grunt holding his groin. Alexander undid his other restraint and beat the man to death with the arm of the chair. He then spit on the muscle bound man whose face was now mush. Alexander towards the door, but stopped first when he saw a gun it was new world, but better then nothing. He checked the barrel it was loaded so he ran out the door. He began sneaking when he reached the hallway. He realized with every step he was leaving a trail of blood from his finger so he quickly wrapped it up with his tie and continued on until he found a window.

He looked out and saw that they were on the dock. He snuck out the window and shimmed his way towards the wood of the dock and jumped off the boat and just barley grabbed hold of the wood. He pulled himself up and snuck passed the guards and police. Seeing Jones walker weeping over the deaths of most of his children Dylan was by him comforting him. Alexander continued on until he found a doctor who disinfected his wounds and wrapped up his finger. Alexander then payed the man and bought some extra bandages for the trip "home".
Targets: Eliminated, Operative severely injured.

The Desert Dash
Location: Skycove
Target: Corvin Reynolds

Ada awoke almost a full day later, feeling somewhat groggy, but also refreshed. Slipping off the bed, she unwrapped the now dry cloth from her ankle and tentatively moved it around with a grimace. It was still quite sore, but not as bad as before. She quickly pulled on a fresh set of clothes, wincing as the cloth brushed her shoulder. She walked out of her room, still showing a slight limp, intending to get something to eat, but the notices outside the office caught her eye as she passed. One word in particular jumped out at her. Guardians.

Without pause, Ada snatched the notice from the wall and scanned it. She began to think of her own escape from Hope. She, at least, had been smart enough not to take anything of importance. Even then, it was likely the only reason she was not pursued is that Singh had bigger issues to deal with at that time. Even so, could she really do an assignment like this? Engaging in something so close to her past could be dangerous in a way most missions were not. If she was not careful, Father Singh could remember she was still out and alive, and might get the idea that he still wanted her brought to justice.

Even so, she might be the person with the best chance of success. Though Ada had never met this Reynolds, she knew about the Guardians, which could prove crucial for this. At the same time, just the use of that knowledge could endanger her. However, reason was quickly losing to desire. Adalin wanted to do this for little more reason than curiosity, the challenge, and a desire to see something, and perhaps someone, from her past. With that, she decided. She hurriedly made her preparations then retrieved beads from the armory and a waterproof sack to contain the money, and, later, the books. Returning to her room, she abruptly realized she would not be able to bring her sword. The symbol on the guard would mark it as an item from Hope to any who had lived there. Ada stared at the weapon with regret. The thought of going on a mission without it was odd. She had not been parted with it since she earned it and became a Guardian. It was ironic that she would have to leave it on this mission. She tenderly rested her fingers on the pommel, as if bidding the sword a farewell, before whirling out of the room with her cloak flowing behind.

As Ada traveled, her ankle slowly improved, though slower than it should have since she moved as fast as she would have normally, ignoring the pain, and later, the discomfort. It was nearly a week before she arrived at the spot the Skycove was supposed to be. She knew she was in the right place from the thick piles of various junk, debris, and even bodies covering the ground. The stench was far from pleasant. Nearly half a day later, as Ada skirted the thick debris, she came near the edge the city's shadow. Moments later, she happened upon a ferry of sorts. It was a rather small airship, just bigger than a hot air balloon. The gondola was big enough for perhaps half a dozen people including the pilot. A few people were milling about, apparently waiting until the ship was ready to fly. Ada found the captain, obviously a 'retired' pirate from his scars and tattoos, and negotiated passage up to the city. With that, the captain apparently decided he had enough passengers for a trip and they soon docked at the city on one of the more 'permanent' ships.

With that, her search for Reynolds began. After discreetly asking in several rowdy inns and taverns of sorts, she finally found word of a man trying to sell some rather valuable and unique items. At least she had yet to hear of the Guardians chasing him. After checking at the ship he was supposed to be on and greasing a few palms, she finally found his actual location. It was far too easy in her opinion, but this was the Rat Cloud after all. What else was one to expect from these lowlifes.

The sun had just set and the air was cooling, giving Ada much needed relief from the heat. In an effort to conceal her face from any who would remember it, she had not removed her hood. If she were honest with herself, she was anxious, and even afraid, about leaving information behind that could jeopardize her life. At the same time, and for the same reason, she felt invigorated by the challenge, the danger. Ada crossed one of the many rickety bridges to the correct ship. It was one of the smaller of those permanently docked, so finding which room Corvin occupied was not difficult. The stout man who was some form of a land lord/ owner of the ship announced her as, “Some lady interested in whatever it is you’re selling.” Ada had to fight down the compulsion to punch the knowing smirk from his face.

When she entered, Corvin scanned her form nervously, frowning at the gloves covering her hands. Ada knew what he was looking for, but made no indication that she understood, or even cared. She merely thought him foolish for not running if he was so uncertain, though it was much easier for her that he stayed put. He motioned for her to take the only chair in the room, sitting on the bed himself. Obviously, he was waiting for her to make the first move. She sat, noting with satisfaction the look of keen hunger that passed over his face as the beads in her pack clinked together. As she began to speak, he tried to make out her face under the hood, but she was sitting too much in the shadow for him to make anything out.

“I hear you have some rather interesting merchandise. The sort of once-in-a-lifetime buy ‘The Knights' would be interested in,” she said, using the name she had decided on earlier.

“The Knights? Never heard of them,” he questioned, an interested look on his face, though he was still discreetly trying to make out her features. She was glad she had never had contact with the man before. It certainly made this easier.

“Perhaps not, but you will,” she allowed a small, thin smile to show. She was bluffing, but with God's favor, he would never know that. “In any case, I seem to recall that we will not have much time to make this transaction, correct?” At his hesitant nod, she continued, “Five thousand, for all of it.” She named a number a quite a bit less than what she had. He spluttered at the ridiculous figure, and made sure she knew just how much these books were worth with a rather lengthy lecture for time they had. Ada only paid attention with half of her mind, listening for any sign of the Guardians. She knew they would not be far behind her, and she knew they would not rest until Corvin was found. After some negotiating, they finally settled on a number. Instead of counting it out, Ada stood and walked to the door. She could faintly hear a commotion and some yelling outside, perhaps on the top deck of the ship.

“Aren’t we going to make the trade? I just need to go retrieve the books and I will be back,” Reynolds promised nervously. Ada heard the retort of what had to be an Old World rifle, a sound she had only heard one place before. She whirled on the man, startling him, but she could not care less now.

“It seems you have some visitors,” He went wide eyed at the declaration. “I will meet you tomorrow morning at the north dock. We will take one of the ferry ships and finish the transaction there. This room is no longer safe.” She left the room after watching him squeeze out the window with a bulging bag on his back. She exited the airship from a different lower deck window, cursing herself for not bringing a Skyhook. When the commotion on the top deck calmed down, she climbed up the side of the ship and swung herself onto the bridge that connected the airship to the adjacent one, sprinting away without looking back. Ada heard a shout behind her, a man's voice that almost sounded familiar, and two sets of feet running after her. They were too far behind to catch her, and she had the advantage of being somewhat familiar with the area from her search for Reynolds. Approaching a large, uneven stack of crates and barrels, she quickly scaled the makeshift wall, slipping into a tight, awkward space that was both unexpected and hidden from the outside. She heard them rush by, and her heart pounded as she glimpsed a face through one of the cracks.

She had recognized the voice. It was Arret, who Ada had grown up with as a Guardian. He had never forgiven her for being initiated before he was, and there had been a longstanding rivalry between them. He was the closest thing to a friend she had ever had. They quickly passed, and she heard their shouts for some time after that.

Ada woke with a start several hours later, unaware that she had fallen asleep and terribly sore. She awkwardly pulled herself from her hiding place and stretched her stiff muscles, especially her ankle. Her shoulder also ached, but Ada was glad that it had not started bleeding again. She hoped that Corvin Reynolds had also found a good place to hide during the night, or she would have a long and dangerous chase ahead of her, not to mention one from which she would probably not return.

Within the hour the sun was well above the horizon, and Ada made her way to the north dock, easily blending into the crowds. Arriving at the dock, she was relieved to see a cloaked figure with a bulging pack that she recognized. So Reynolds had made it through the night! Ada pretended to take no notice of him, instead, arranging passage on the ferry. She hoped he would, or already had done the same. Within minutes, the ferry was full. She made eye contact with Corvin who had apparently been watching her and gave her a nod. They entered the ship, standing near each other in the crowd. Ada carefully set a large coin purse down, and Corvin followed her lead and set the bag down. No one glanced their direction a few moments later when Corvin picked up the purse, eagerly looking at the beads within. Ada slipped Reynolds bag in her own, closing it tightly in the waterproof sack and replacing it on her back, under her cloak.

Just as the ship left the dock, they heard a commotion. As everyone crowded around the windows, Ada caught a glance of the four who were unmistakably Guardians. It was nearly funny how much they stood out, and how much space everyone gave them. The man they were shouting at was shielding his face with his hands as they angrily pointed to the departing airship. Ada watched with frustration as they forcefully commandeered a ship that began after the ferry, and she eyed the cannons uneasily. The Guardians smaller, less encumbered ship was quickly catching up to the ferry. Ada had hoped this would go smoothly, but it did not seem that would be the case. They were nearing the ground, but not quickly enough. Ada watched with irritation as several cannons began to swivel toward the ship. “Brace yourself!” she shouted at Corvin as a boom sounded out and the whole ferry seemed to rumble. Several women screamed, and fear was plain on many faces. Just as many acted as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. Blasted pirates.

The ship shuddered and began falling out of the sky as another volley of cannon fire ripped through it, this time blowing through the passenger compartment and taking lives. Ada grimaced at the screams of the dying. The ferry hit the ground hard, throwing everyone down in a heap. Inevitably, Ada hit her left shoulder on one of the wooden beams, causing her to gasp as the wound open slightly, lazily oozing blood. Luckily, Ada was near the top and was able to scramble through one of the many holes in the ship. Many followed her example, scrambling out and running for safety at the edge of the debris field. She knew they would not make it before the Guardians came after them. Seeing Reynolds, Ada grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him to one of the large piles of trash, but he jerked away and ran further into the rubbish field instead of out of it. Ada threw herself into one of the piles and covered herself, trying not to breath too deeply. She took the book bag off her back and shoved it deeper into the muck. The books would be well protected from the filth by the thick material, and if she was found, there was a chance they would be missed. After all, there was no real reason that they should be in her possession. At least this is what Ada tried to convince herself.

Within minutes, she watched as the commandeered ship landed, four figures jumping out before it completely halted. Obviously, they quickly spotted Corvin. Two split off after him, and the other two went after the other passengers. If he handed off the books, they did not want to lose them. Ada saw that Corvin was quickly caught. He was unable to fight them off, and was dragged back bloody for his trouble. The other two caught up to each passenger, rapidly halting their flight and violently searching them before uncaringly casting them aside like an unwanted toy. The two with Corvin took out guns and began mercilessly shooting those passengers who were fighting back. From this distance, the shots were like child’s play. Within moments, the brutality was over, and the two Guardians who had searched met up with the others who had caught Reynolds. They were uncomfortably close to where Ada now hid, and she could hear snatches of the conversation, quickly picking out who Father Singh had sent.

Besides Arret, there was Dered, a grisly older man who had been a Guardian as long as Ada could remember; Eva, a fierce woman who was deadly with the rifle, as she had just shown; and Trite, a weasely looking man who wielded a short sword and sword breaker with deadly results. She grimaced as she heard what they planned to do with Corvin, though she was not surprised. He would be burned at the stake, and, apparently, they had permission to carry out his execution immediately. Adalin racked her brain for some way to help the man, but came up with nothing. Anything she could do could only hurt the mission or herself, and it would still do him no good. She watched helplessly as they gathered wood from the wreckage for a large fire, all the while debating how they would find the books and how the books could have gotten past them. They looked in surprise as Corvin who was already securely tied on top of the wood pile, interrupted, offering information in exchange for his life. Ada winced as Dered gruffly said, “Tell us what you have to say, and we will decide if it is worth your life.” Ada knew there was no way they would let him live. He had betrayed Hope after all. She prepared herself to run if Corvin decided to reveal where she hid, and her hand stretched back through something that was both slimy and repulsive to firmly grip a handle of the book bag.

Instead, he told them he had hidden the books somewhere in the Skycove, where only he could find them. The Guardians looked unmoved as they lit a torch and brought it to the pile of wood. Corvin Reynolds screams for mercy resounded in Adalin’s ears, and she was frustrated by her inability to do anything. It made her want to scream with him. She rested her hand on the bag and gripped the material tightly. She asked herself, not for the first time, if it as worth it. As the stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils, she hated herself for doing nothing to save him, for her inability to save him. It contradicted her every instinct, and she nearly leapt from her hiding place several times, just barely restrained by a crushing sense of hopelessness.

It seemed to take days for the fire to burn out, leaving only embers, ash, and a foul stench. After a rather heated discussion about whether to trust what Reynolds had said, the Guardians slowly returned to the commandeered ship while half heartedly searching a couple piles. With some shouting, an obviously drunk man, maybe the captain, was thrown overboard and the ship took to the air, headed back to the Floating City.

Once they were out of sight, Ada grabbed the bag and dislodged herself from the pile of refuse. She was covered in filth, but it mattered little. She began to run, not caring where she was going. She only needed to release her frustration. She ran tirelessly for nearly an hour before her ankle gave way, causing her to crumple to the ground. Exhausted, she wrapped herself in her cloak and fell asleep where she had collapsed.

She woke from a nightmare that the books were fake, and she was caught and burned for the mistake. She tore the bag open in a panic and carefully pulled the books out, one by one. They were real, to her relief, and she even recognized one of them. She replaced them in the bag with a dull feeling of relief before heading for home. The rest of the trip back to the Workshop was uneventful, though she did hear many whispered rumors of a roving band of Guardians. Some were absolutely ridiculous, but Ada was cautious to keep herself concealed all the same. She arrived as night was falling, again heading straight to the office. She dropped the bag onto his desk without looking at him, the leftover beads clinking softly as they settled. She stalked out, not really upset but not wanting to be around anyone either. Entering the Practice room, she climbed to the top of the tallest practice ‘building’ and sat with an air of nonchalance, though she was deep in thought.

Angel of Death
Location: New Mesa
Target: Stella Knock/Jenks

Dusk. Also known as the Shadow Hour, the Concealing Mother, and the Hunter's Refuge, Arachne chose this hour to leave. Earlier that day, she'd found another job on the board. Normally she would have just ignored it, but it looked too important to pass up. Plus, she was perfectly suited for the type of work it called for.

Stella Knock, one of their informants, had been compromised and in all likelihood was even now being tortured for information. That meant Arachne needed to get to New Mesa as quickly as possible and infiltrate her building. Arachne packed a few essentials, such as her "Spider's bite", her poisoning dagger, a thief's tool-set, and her climbing hooks. She dressed in a gunmetal colored outfit for this mission, as the building was a warehouse, and as such sand wouldn't be very common there.

Arachne booked the fastest schooner she could find to get her to New Mesa. The captain, a greasy man named Hooker, agreed to rush her over once she'd clubbed him over the head with a bag of money. Arachne didn't like the way his eyes wandered over her form, but she couldn't kill him because then she'd have to find another way to New Mesa.

Three uncomfortable days later, Arachne hopped off the airship in port and hurried away. The captain made several passes at her during the trip, and only her incredible self control prevented her from tossing the man over the rails of his own ship. Still, three days is a very good time and she was thankful he'd kept his word and flew with all haste.

Her destination lay at the heart of the city, the Cavalier Building. As it was Gretch's storehouse for all his goods, Arachne wasn't surprised that this was where they were 'storing' Stella. Her climbing ability still wasn't 100%, so she needed to find an easy way in. As she approached the warehouse, Arachne slowed to better examine her surroundings.

Not many people milled about the streets in this district, probably due to Gretch's men patrolling the area at random intervals. While people weren't stritcly banned from being here, they definitely were encouraged to find other places to be. Arachne didn't plan on being shooed away, though.

Casually taking a meandering path around the building, Arachne scoped it out without being too obvious. She left her hood on, but not so much as to appear furtive. Ochil weren't uncommon around New Mesa, after all, and their customs were very foreign to outsiders. If anyone asked, she'd simply tell them it was a tribal thing and they wouldn't understand.

After an hour of deliberation, Arachne finally settled on a course of action. One of the accompanying buildings' roof jutted out just far enough to make a safe leap into the second floor of the warehouse. The windows were all open, probably to vent or allow circulation, giving her unrestricted access. Ducking inside said neighboring building, Arachne quickly scaled the stairs, favoring her good leg.

"Just a short hop, and in we squeezes. No fear," she muttered, mostly to steady herself. The jump looked much farther in person than it had from the ground. Normally she would have leapt by now, but she was unsure of how her leg would hold up. A week isn't enough time to fully heal a severed calf muscle, after all.

"No fear...no fear...no fear!" Dashing forwards, Arachne pushed off the edge with her good leg, tucking into a ball and rolling through the window across from her. So far, so good. She'd landed in an alcove along a hall, probably an administrative area. Climbing to her feet, Arachne looked back and forth down the hall, checking the carpet for worn patches, which would indicate frequent patrols. Seeing none, she shrugged to herself and took the left side path. Every few doors, she stopped to listen and see if anyone was coming or occupying one of the rooms.

Turning the corner, Arachne arrived on a catwalk, overlooking the main warehouse area. Rows of shelves stocked with boxes and bottles, all probably illegally gained and going to be sold at double their values. Arachne shook her head to focus. That wasn't what she was here for. Her gaze swept the room, looking for a door or area that would indicate "torture cells". She began moving along the catwalk, noting guard positions and movements, as well as sizing them up. Arachne felt confident she could handle most of the guards in the warehouse.

Finally, her luck turned. A man matching Jenks' description stormed out of one of the side doors, looking furious and muttering to himself. Several of the guards took notice and moved towards him, questions on their minds. Seizing the opportunity, Arachne dropped lightly onto an adjacent shelf and then to the floor, slipping up to the door silent as a shadow. Her mood plummeted when she found the door locked.

"Are you putting tricks on me? Barred? My schedule can't work with this!" Hissing in frustration, Arachne unfurled her burgling tools and grabbed a pick and chisel. She scraped the tumblers impatiently, but with a practiced precision. She managed to pop the lock and get inside without mishap, however. The door locked itself again as she shut it, much to her relief. As quickly as she could, Arachne darted down the stairs and around the corner. The cells had barred windows, allowing her to peek in as she passed them, though she had to jump to do so. Near the middle, Stella's cell came into view.

Arachne had no sooner approached the door than Stella appeared at the window, tears running down her face.

"I knew someone would come to save me! Thank you so much! Please get me out of here!" Doing her best to calm the woman, Arachne began to pick the lock on the door to her cell. When she opened it, Stella tried to rush out and make a break for freedom. Arachne jumped on her back and put her in a combination of arm bar and choke hold.

"Stupid! If you rush the guards now, who isn't going to cut you down? When you're peaceful like a still water we can plan." Arachne was afraid she was going to have to choke out this crazed dancer, as the woman ignored her and kept thrashing for several minutes. Finally, the lack of oxygen combined with the pain of the hold caused Stella to relax. Arachne dragged her back into the cell and closed the door behind them.

"What have you revealed?" questioned Arachne. Stella instantly teared up again, but shook her head.

"Please, I had no choice! He had all these knives and he was threatening me! I was so scared!" Arachne got quiet then, debating in her mind. On one hand, this woman was an innocent. On the other, she was a liability. The risks outweighed the rewards of saving this woman. She was simply too much a burden. Stella began to say something, perhaps to plead for her life again, but Arachne silenced her with a gesture.

"You should have been more careful. Your foolishness bit many hands, and they don't like getting bit." Shrieking in horror, Stella backed away from her new tormentor, but Arachne was far quicker than her. With a lightning motion, Arachne slashed Stella's throat, spraying the blood all over the wall. Luckily she avoided the spray.

Arachne watched her victim's life drain out slowly, matching the woman's accusing glare with one of emotionless interest. Death was such an odd thing to witness, yet it never lost its effect on her. She had just extinguished what had once been a bright, vital flame and left behind a pile of meat. The change was always so drastic...almost beautiful in a twisted sense. Arachne heard the door to the cells open, then close and lock again.

She leapt to the opening side of the door, so that she'd be hidden once Jenks entered the room. At least, she hoped he'd enter the room. An angry grumbling, accompanied with light footfalls, grew in volume until he was at the door.

"What the fuck!! Holy shit!" Jenks shouted in surprise. Throwing the door open, he stormed into the room with naked blades. Arachne seized the opportunity to slip up behind her target and plunge her blade into his side. The flesh parted easily before her blade, veins eagerly accepting her toxic gift and spreading it to the rest of his body. Looking over his shoulder in surprise, Jenks managed to gasp some curse or other before collapsing to his knees and into death's embrace.

Well, that's how the scene had played out in her head. What actually happened was Jenks kicked the door open so hard it rebounded off her face. Alerted to the danger, he darted around the door and thrust his blade into the space. Arachne managed to dodge the thrust and counter with a sharp punch to his throat. The blow caused him to recoil, eyes watering, as well as drop one of his knives. Following with a snap kick to the nose, Arachne sent Jenks' head flying backwards. She followed with a flurry of hits to the chest, a knee to the groin and then she shattered his ankle with a stomp.

Like her last target, however, Jenks wasn't a weak man. He grabbed Arachne by the collar and lifted her over his head in a throw. She landed upside down on the hard metal interrogating chair and then bounced off. Jenks buried one of his many knives in her shoulder, twisting it with an angry snarl. Arachne cried out in pain, he free arm spasming on the floor. Her hand collided with the hilt of Jenks' dropped blade, then closed on it and pistoned it in and out of his rib cage furiously. Jenks staggered back, clutching his side in surprise. His look became frozen on his face as Arachne buried the blade up to the guard into his eye, instantly killing him.

Breathing heavily, Arachne looked at the blade in her shoulder. She'd have to remove it if she wanted to get back alive, but the prospect of pulling a seven inch knife out of her shoulder really didn't sit well with her. Luckily, the blade passed through pretty much everything without too much damage. She'd be able to heal this one back to new no problem. If she made it back to the workshop, that is.

Arachne put the handle of one of her hooks in her mouth to bite on as she gripped the knife, taking several deep breaths before yanking upwards on it. Her muffled cry of agony filled the cell, and she wiped the tears of pain out of her eyes. Looking back at the knife, Arachne almost fainted when she realized that she'd only pulled about an inch out of her body. The next twenty minutes she spent removing the blade from her shoulder and bandaging the wound, though most of it was her openly weeping from the pain.

Finally, as patched up as she could be, Arachne slipped out of the cell and ascended the stairs. She peeked out the door to the warehouse, and seeing no one, she slipped out and shut it gently behind her. From the gaps in the merchandise, Arachne could see two patrols, though neither was facing her. Spotting an open window, the assassin quickly sprinted towards it and tossed herself through it, landing roughly but maintaining her momentum and kept going towards the dock.

She booked a longer passage back to the Sanctuary, to give her time to rest and heal up. By the time she returned, Arachne felt much better. She went straight to Mr. Charles' office to be debriefed, recounting the whole tale. When she finished, he dismissed her politely and returned to his work.

Arachne migrated to the common room to do some stretching and practice her forms. She still needed to stretch out her leg, as well as maintain her shoulder's healing. It wouldn't do to be a crippled assassin, after all.

Epilogues.

He had hoped to meet at least a representative of Dylan Walker but instead he got a courier. It was to be expected, Walker had a lot to prepare now he was running the largest courier company on The Flats so a young nervous looking Courier was all he was getting. The Shady Dune Pub was the location of the meeting as Charles knew the owner, an old Ochillian by the name of Thuum Re who had helped him out years ago.

Mister Charles opened the sack the courier had dropped on his desk and the amount of beads contained within almost took his breath away. Clearly Dylan Walker had wanted his family dead quite badly. Under the leadership of Dylan the Walker fortune was in a good hands and Mister Charles knew he probably had a repeat customer on his hands, the first contract is always the hardest, in time Dylan would be calling hits for the slightest inconvenience which was very good for business.
“I assume you know what’s in this bag?”

“Yes.” The courier said wiping her dirty, sweaty brow. Her skin was tan from working in sun a striking contrast to Mister Charles’ pale hands. The question made the girl nervous and that told him she hadn’t stole. He grabbed a handful of beads and dropped them into her hands.

“For your trouble.”

The girl beamed and walked away. Even now he liked to make a woman smile.
Charles stood and began making his way back to The Workshop.

#

Ada was not a woman Charles could make smile, she simply dropped the book on his desk along with some left over beads which Charles found strange. He had expected Ada to pocket any change, he shrugged and put it down to some residual Guardian sense of honour.

He opened the sack and tore into the books which smelt faintly of decay. The first was a useless religious text explaining Father Singh’s beliefs. It was interesting, but ultimately worthless. The second and third were more his speed.

The first described a type of weapon modification called The Whisper. It attached to the barrel of a rifle and reduced the noise made by the rifle report. This was something he could use. The third book was another design manual that described an item called a “Cradle”. The cradle was a small balloon, much like one would find on an airship except much smaller, that was capable of lifting a single person. The idea was it could be used as a kind of “life boat” should an Airship go down. He was sure the White Group could find another use for it. Although it was interesting that Hope was looking at developing such a thing, to his knowledge Hope had no fleet.

#

A few days later the Armoury had working prototypes of both the whisper and the cradle. The Whisper had since been renamed a Silencer as Kincaid the armourer, thought it sounded “less fruity”. Kincaid was a large man with a thick beard almost as course as his attitude. Charles didn’t pay him for company though he was a fine gun and blacksmith.

“Can you get it on a revolver?”

“No chance. Only rifles and then only old world stuff.”

Charles shrugged it was better than nothing. He lifted a rifle with the Silencer attached and shot a target down range. The noise of the rifle was noticeably lessened but no to the extent Charles had wanted.

“It doesn’t sound much different.”

“Aye but we’re indoors and standing right beside the gun. At 300 meters outside, well you’re not hearing a thing, apart the screams of the bloke who just got shot.”

“Maybe when you’re shooting Kincaid. My people drop them first time.”

“Aye, I’m in a perpetual state of awe by your crew’s sheer lethality.” The Smith deadpanned. “Wanna see the Balloon?”
The balloon was contained in a large case alongside a large heater. In about ten minutes Kincaid had a fully inflated balloon in the middle of the range.

“Now that’s just me putting it up I’m sure your gang of motherless killers could do a far better job than a lowly blacksmith.”
Mister Charles looked at the balloon and let a small smile play across his lips. He liked Kincaid giving him a hard time every now and then, it made him feel like less of a boss.

“You did just fine Kincaid.”

#

Arachane finished the story of her hit and Charles nodded, seemed like all objectives were met but the yellowing bruises on the woman told him that the fight may not have been as easy as she claimed. Nevertheless all Mister Charles needed was Knock taken care of. Arachne’s beads would be left in her room as usual.

#

A tall muscular man was standing over the body of Jenks. They called him Gretch but nobody knew his real name. Rumour had it he was a demon sent torture the Flats, others claimed he had been a Confederate Solider driven insane by violence others said he woke up one in day in a riverbed before deciding to take over New Mesa. The facts were he’d united disparate Tribal Clans into a cohesive and highly successful gang. He’d done this through force of personality and acts of extreme barbarism.

Then he turned his attention on New Mesa and Fat Nick. Now all Gretch wanted was a quiet life, wenches, lots of shine, a little spice and the occasional slaughter. What he did not want was dead traitorous wenches and dead loyal Men. Jenks had been with Gretch for a long time and now the big idiot was dead.

“Put the Bitch’s head on a stick and let all the girls see it. Make it seem like we did it. Then ask ‘em lovelies if they know anything about what old Stella was up to.” Gretch said before spitting on the woman’s corpse.

“Sure thing Gretch.” One of his boys said.

“Lefty and you. Go bury Jenks. Give him something with a nice view, like looking at the cathouse. Real peaceful.” He had pointed at two men one of whom had replaced his missing right hand with a hook.

Gretch’s eyes blinked asynchronously at the body of Jenks before shrugging and leaving. While his men trusted their leaders judgement and knew better than to cross him his blink was a trait everyone found unsettling.


Memory- The Wildcard.

Eight years ago.

The Workshop had changed Charles, he wasn’t the boy he’d been twelve years ago. The turning point had been happened in his second year working with the White Group when he’d killed a child who’d spotted him, at the time he didn’t even think about it. Witness versus Corpse wasn’t even a decision regardless of age, gender, race or sexual orientation. When he got back to the workshop however the decision weighed heavily on him, his mistake had cost a child his life. Ivan hadn’t cared much simply saying it was part of the job while Clem said it was something he’d get over, only Fawkes truly understood.

“Sometimes in this line of work things don’t pan out. We have to deal with it. Ivan uses aggression while Clementine promises to do a better job next time. You think deeper, sometimes that’s a good thing helps you understand people and a hunter must know his quarry. I’m the same way, that why I do the things I do.”

Fawkes passed him a cup brimming with clear liquid that, from the smell Charles knew, was Shine. He took a sip and Fawkes passed him a pipe laden with Stumble. He took a long drag and felt a wave of calm pass over him.

“People like you and me we’re no different from the spice junkies up there, except we get the kicks from the adrenaline, the drugs just numb the memories.”

From then on, at least once a week, Charles and Fawkes would go on a bender usually after a particularly bad mission. Over time though Charles knew his heart was hardening, he’d killed all kinds of people most of whom didn’t deserve it, just like the kid. Still some jobs stuck with him.

#

He was returning from one such mission when his world changed. He’d taken out a singer by the name of Molly Montana a beautiful woman with an even prettier voice. It wasn’t so much the killing than the reason, a jilted lover had called the hit. He did that kind of thing a lot but this time it seemed like such a waste to take something beautiful out of the world for such a petty reason. It wouldn’t keep him awake at night but it depressed him.

#

He stowed his kit and went to debrief Fawkes who would be in the office. He already knew something was wrong as the metallic smell of blood hung in the air, a normal smell in the sparring room but not in the office. He pulled out his sword and kicked the door open.

Fawkes was broken, his limbs were limp and bloody with bone erupting from skin while the elderly man’s face was a pulpy mess. A long blade was buried in his chest pinning the man to the table.

Charles reacted instantly by trying to stop the bleeding.

“What happened?” He asked knowing Fawkes didn’t have much time.

“Ivan… he betrayed…”

“What? Why?”

Fawkes spluttered, the old man would expend the last of his breath giving Charles one last job.

“He’s taking over the group… Escobar too. I discovered… He knew…”

“Bastard.”

“Clementine… he…”

“He what? Where is she?”

“The ship… the Wildcard.”

“Got it.”

Fawkes grimaced with the pain, unfortunately there was still some life left in the old man. Ivan had done just enough damage. Charles wondered why he’d left him alive at all, he had to know Charles would pursue him then he realised that’s what Ivan wanted. Charles running around was a liability so Ivan had taken Clementine to force Charles to come at him. Under other circumstances Charles would have taken his time and planned an inspired response. Now he had to avenge Fawkes before Ivan killed Clem.

Fawkes cleared his throat and jabbed his chin toward a revolver on the wall.

“I couldn’t trouble you…” He groaned.

Charles lifted the revolver and sent Fawkes to the same place he’d sent countless others.

#

Two days later Charles was ready, he’d sunk a lot of his own cash into the plan. The Airship along with the explosives had eaten into his beads but he didn’t expect need them much by the time the night was out.

Ivan’s Airship was called the Wildcard while Charles’ was called the Grant. It was a dilapidated old thing but he didn’t intend to be on it for long. The Grant was purely divisionary while a much smaller gondola would deliver him to his target. Under the cover of a moonless night he launched his plan.

#

Fat Nick Escobar ran New Mesa like a Mafia Enterprise. His sole interest was the accumulation of beads and power. When Ivan presented a business proposition to him Fat Nick was powerless to resist, his own army of Assassins trained by a member of the White Group along with access to the White Group files. It was too good an offer to pass up. He planned to go to war with Hope as the God Squad up North had been interfering with his business practices of late. He was going to use Ivan to take them down. All Ivan needed was an airship and some men which Fat Nick was happy to provide. He gave Ivan the Wildcard, Fat Nick’s security vessel and a crew of his best men. This was where Charles would meet Ivan and have his vengeance.

#

Ivan was waiting for Charles he knew he’d come for Clementine, who he’d locked in the lower decks, after breaking all her fingers of course. She was still dangerous even if she had been beaten like a dog by Fat Nick’s Men, Ivan thought that had been too much but the men Fat Nick had provided were not professionals. The Mayor of New Mesa who would one day be deposed by the man they called Gretch had bankrolled Ivan’s scheme as he would gain not only the means to train an army of assassins but also the information the White group had collected over the years. Even Fat Nick could see the advantages of having such information.

Ivan was in control of the operation while Fat Nick just provided the beads, weapons and man power. This worried Ivan as Nick’s men were not trained to any standard while the weapons were all New World crap still the beads were good. Ivan knew well enough that numerical superiority was exactly the kind of thing Charles has spent a career overcoming, however this time he would be trying to sneak by another assassin. Ivan had placed men at all the weak points on the Wildcard and had tried to educate Nick’s men about techniques Charles would be likely to use. That had been a waste of time, the men were more interested in posing with their new guns and trying to stare down Ivan. The assassin threatened their masculinity due to his size and prestige, Ivan put an end to threats immediately by breaking the spine of the largest man he could find and threw him overboard. They didn’t listen any harder but they feared him.

“There’s a ship approaching.”

The Captain of the Wildcard was a stout man called McCarthy who Ivan didn’t like because he viewed him as an incompetent. Ivan was standing on the bridge on a cloudy night with only the light of flaming torches to guide his way.

“Well tell them to leave and send a warning shot.”

McCarthy complied and then came back to Ivan.

“They ain’t slowing.”

“Blow them out of the sky then.”

Ivan already had an idea what was happening. Charles was going to ram the Wildcard and then use the ensuing panic to get aboard. Unfortunately Charles didn’t know the Wildcard had been outfitted with extra cannons, something Fawkes didn’t even know. The opening Salvo battered the hull of The Grant beyond recognition but still it kept coming.

“He’s committed now, no sense backing down. Keep firing.”

The Grant withered under the torrent of fire but still the flaming wreck kept bearing down on the Wildcard.

Finally the Grant erupted into a ball of flame and seemed to hang in the air for a second before plummeting to earth. In that moment Ivan realised his mistake.

“Bring me Clementine. Charles is on board.”

“What do you mean the ship got nowhere near us?” McCarthy asked.

“Did you see that explosion? It came from inside the ship our weapons didn’t do that. It was a distraction.”

“Maybe we hit the Ammo Cache?”

“Nobody keeps their ammo that close to the hull. Besides did you see anyone on that ship?”

“No.”

“No Crew, no nothing. So it was a fire ship, a diversion. Go get Clem and search the ship.”

#

Clementine wasn’t cuffed or otherwise restrained as her broken fingers prevented her from doing much. She saw no point in speaking to Ivan, he had made his choice. Instead she stood on the deck and wondered how many she’d be able to take out before they got her, her mangled hands of course meant she’d only have her feet which was something of a handicap. One of Fat Nicks boy’s was holding a revolver to the back of her head and until he was dealt with the number remained at zero.
McCarthy appeared beside Ivan and informed him Charles had been found in the lower decks while planting a bomb. The men had also discovered other bombs dotted along the ship.

“Bring him up.”

Charles emerged into the cool night air a few moments later flanked by three armed guards with his hands bound in irons. Ivan remained impassive.

“Good now everybody’s here we can begin. I’m sorry things worked out like this. Fawkes forced my hand.”

“So you tortured him? Traitor.” Clem said through gritted teeth.

“That was unavoidable. He was unreasonable. Beside you owe him nothing what did he make us give? For what? For Who? The highest bidder. We do the deeds and get none of the power.”

“We got paid.” Charles said.

“Hardly enough, not for what we did.”

“You threw everything away for more beads?”

“Influence Charles. Think about all the warlords we brought down, all the business we directly created. We could run this place if we just used our abilities to our own ends. We could shape this place make it our own.”

Charles snorted his derision.

“Alright Charles is it worth it? He turned you into a drunk just so you could sleep at night.”

Charles’ eyes dropped at the barb.

“He wasn’t one of us. Fawkes had no ambition.”

“I’m only interested in the beads. If I was living any other way I’d be dead by now, Fawkes saved me. This is how you show gratitude bringing this rabble into the workshop and murdering him?”

“Of course not I intend to start where Fawkes left off. That means keeping some secrets. I did that job myself.”

“So that’s what it’s all about you wanted to be in charge.”

Ivan shook his head slowly, Charles wasn’t getting it. He pulled a revolver out but kept it at his side.

“The bombs were are they?”

“Your boys got them all.”

Ivan looked at him and sighed, he’d lost the ship.

“I don’t believe you. I’m evacuating the ship.”

“Uh we can’t do that.” McCarthy mumbled.

“What?”

“The Gondolas, He’s cast them all off. There’s no lifeboats.”

Ivan rubbed the bridge of his nose something he did when stressed.

“The bombs Charles. These idiots found what you wanted them to find. Just like that stunt with the Airship. Tell me how’d you
get aboard?”

“Gondola then skyhook. Shot the Balloon out to send the gondola back down.”

“Cute. Search the lower decks again he’ll have placed the largest bomb first.” He pressed the revolver against Clem’s head.
“Bombs or Clementine.”

Charles looked at the woman and let his eyes drop.

Ivan shrugged and pulled the trigger. Clem’s head erupted across the deck as she pitched sideways and over the railing of the boat.

Charles wanted to save her but knew it was a slim chance. He’d made his choice, if he mentioned the Cargo net filled with explosives he’d pinned to the keel of the Wildcard they were both dead anyway. Of course the smaller bombs were distractions for the benefit of Fat Nick’s men. He had attached the large bomb to the underside of the Wildcard on the structurally sensitive Keel which if broken would destroy the entire ship. His placement was perfect he just had to make sure it wasn’t found.

“You loved her but you let her die. For Fawkes? That’s you all over Charles, dedicated to the mission but never a friend. You leave me no choice so we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Ivan produced a long sword while Fat Nick’s men grabbed and restrained Charles. Ivan lightly stabbed Charles in the shoulder.

“Next one is in your eye.”

Charles gritted his teeth, winked and opened his eyes was wide as possible. It was getting near time anyway.

“Alright.” Ivan slowly brought the Blade towards Charles’ face.

That’s when the explosion tore through the centre of the ship.

#

When Charles came to he was upside down and looking at the Desert floor about a mile beneath him. His vision was blurry and it felt like something was in his eye. He gingerly checked it with his hand and pain shot through his head. A long cut ran down his forehead through his left eye and down to his chin. Obviously the explosion had jerked Ivan’s hand at the cost of Charles’ eye.
He looked up towards the Wildcard which was in a particularly bad shape. The explosion had broken the Keel which was the back bone of the ship. The ship had then collapsed under its own weight severing the bow from the stern. Both of which now hung from the balloon by their rigging at a ninety degree angle. The shifting weight had set the balloon off balance and the whole thing tilted by forty five degrees toward the heavier stern like a set of scales.

Charles was still alive as his foot had become entangled in some rigging leaving him dangling from the whole flaming broken mess. He reached up and grabbed his leg with his still cuffed hands before grasping for the rope. He then started the slow climb up. Occasionally he’d hear a scream as another person passed him on their way down a very abrupt landing. He wondered if Ivan was among them but in his heart he knew he wasn’t that lucky.

He found himself climbing into the galley which had been torn in two by the explosion, he slowly worked his way toward the door which was directly above him by climbing on the various cabinets that were nailed to the walls. A job easier said with cuffed hands. Eventually he made it to the door which he climbed through and kicked shut. At least now he had a floor between him and ground a mile below. He allowed his eyes to adjust before looking at the cuffs.
They were a simple new world affair. Crudely made which meant picking them took only a few seconds. Fat Nick’s Boys hadn’t noticed the thin set of picks when they patted him down. Typically they removed his weapons and Skyhook but never bother to look closer. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw a man slouched in the corner.

One of Fat Nick’s Boys.

The man was baked, his face was a hard crust of ash. This man had been very close to the explosion when it went off. His revolver was write off, the bullets all discharged due to the intense heat of the explosion thus destroying the weapon. The man did have an undamaged knife and slightly sooty but otherwise unmarked cutlass as well as a skyhook. Not the best weapons but they would serve his purpose.

He began to climb higher using the skyhook or furniture that was nailed to the walls as holds. It was slow, hard work and the higher he got the worse the smoke got until he was standing on the Bow of the Wildcard. He wiped his brow an instant before a bullet whizzed by his head. He looked down to see Ivan clinging to the hull aiming another shot. Quickly Charles jumped onto the rigging and began to climb as yet more rounds whistled past.

The Bullets were penetrating the balloon but like most high class Ships the Wildcard’s Balloon was actually made of many smaller Balloons inside a large one so a single shot would not be able to bring the entire ship down. Although a quick blast of escpaing hot air hit Charles whenever a shot hit the Balloon.

Charles began to hack at the rigging beneath him that was holding up the Bow. Ivan seeing the danger began his ascent in earnest. He leapt just as Charles sliced the last rope sending the Bow plunging towards the desert.

Of course this redistributed the weight and sent the balloon straight up. Now the Stern and Balloon looked like a giant exclamation mark with a flaming point. Charles began to climb with Ivan in pursuit. The larger man would be sure to defeat him in a straight fight.

Charles was running out of Balloon to climb when he got the idea. He produced the knife and threw it into the Balloon just in front of where Ivan was climbing the blast knocked the larger man aside temporarily. Charles turned so his back was toward the Balloon and held himself in place with rigging. He then placed the Cutlass between him and the surface of the balloon .

Then he let go.

He was falling so fast that all he felt was a tickle at the back of his neck as the hot blasted out of the balloon as his cutlass tore at it. He was gaining speed by the time he reached and passed Ivan.

The massive blast of Hot air blew the man clean off the side of the balloon . Charles started grasping wildly for purchase as soon as he saw the Ivan lose his grip. He was nearly at the bottom when his hand found a lose piece of rope. He swung wildly and a large arc before slamming into the stern. He felt ribs crack but held on while gasping for air while his cutlass fell from his hands.

“Charles!”

He looked down to see Ivan beneath him aiming the revolver.

Charles groaned and let go of his rope.

He crashed into Ivan and both men started to fall.

Twisting and turning in the air. Ivan began landing punches while Charles grabbed for the dead man’s Skyhook he’d taken earlier and pressed it into the Ivan’s chest before pulling the trigger.

The claw burst through Ivan’s sternum and out his back before finding purchase somewhere on the stern of the Wildcard.

Charles clung to the pistol grip of the skyhook while Ivan coughed blood onto his head.

Charles looked up in time to see the life drain from the large man’s eyes.

He tried to pull himself up but the busted ribs exploded with pain.

Ivan’s blood was getting in-between his fingers making the skyhook slippery . He gritted his teeth and tried to hold on.

Then he was falling.

#

He woke up on the ground and tried to decide what hurt the most. He settled on his leg which was unresponsive and twisted the wrong way. The Stern was a lot lower than he’d thought probably due him tearing a large gouge out of the side, while the combined length of the Skyhook line and dangling Stern had got him a bit closer to the ground. It was still a hell of a fall and it looked like his right leg had taken the brunt of.

He could still see Ivan suspended in the air silhouetted by the flaming remains of the ship.

That’s what he was looking at until he lost consciousness.

#

He woke in a tent with a young Ochilian girl looking at him.

“Hello.” She said with a smile.

“Hello.” Charles said weakly.

“You took a real big fall Mister.”

“I know.”

“Broke your leg up real bad and your face… it’s baaaad, Mister.”

“Call me Charles. Where are your parent’s?”

“I’ll go get them Mister Charles.”

Charles let his head collapse back into the pillow.

He sat up again when he heard someone enter the tent.

It was an severe looking Ochilian man dressed in robes.

“I am Thuum Re, you are Mister Charles.”

“Yes, Thank you for saving me.”

“Old Ochilian saying ‘Words get Words Actions get beads.’”

Charles nodded.

“Get me to a Doctor called Bond in Farpoint. I can pay you there.”

Thuum Re’s face cracked into a smile.

“Good deal. Good deal.”

#
Over the following weeks the Re’s nursed Charles back to health before dropping him at the Dr Bond’s office in Farpoint. They were paid handsomely for their services. Charles’ leg still worked but he walked with a limp and his acrobatic days were over. His left eye was a ruined and the long scar on his face would be a constant reminder of his failure.

After a few Months he was able to return to the work shop. He went directly to Fawkes office. He’d buried the body along with the other staff who’d died in the Workshop when Ivan attacked but the room was still a gory mess. He never thought he’d be able to clean the blood out while the smell of death seemed to hang in the air no matter what he did. He thought it was fitting.
Ivan was true to his word and it seemed like the location of the Workshop was one he took to his grave. The library was still intact was the armory which meant Charles had everything he needed to rebuild. All he had to do was a recruitment drive.

Jobs.

Don’t Pillage the Village.

Location: Tarkan

Objective: Defend the Village of Tarkan, eliminate the threat presented to Tarkan by the Coral Snakes Gang.

Information: Tarkan is a new world Shit hole in the middle of the Badlands. Now that’s out of the way I can explain why you’re going there. The town was built on a supposed bead mine and many people from Shade City decided to move and try to make a life there. Around fifty families made the move. The village it’s self is very basic with the only places apart from homes being an infirmary and few sheds containing mining equipment and the like. The Tarkan mine is quite extensive and has produced a reasonable amount of beads not as many as expected which lead to some families leaving.

The trouble for Tarkan started when a Gang of about thirty Raiders calling themselves the Coral Snakes. The snakes demanded a cut and apparently things got a little heated and the miners backed down. The Snakes started taking liberties with the Town’s women and girls which was resulted in us being contacted. The client is the entire town you have been saving beads to pay for you.

The objective is simple end the influence the Snakes have on this town while preventing loss of life. There are currently forty men women and children living in Tarkan among them around fifteen willing to fight alongside you. These people are miners however and as such have no combat experience, I’m sure you could find a use for them.

While destruction of the town is possible please try to leave them something to at least work with.


The Deal.

Location: The Flats.

Objective: Eliminate Rivan Kytl. Secure beads and destroy Gatling gun.

Information: Rivan Kytl is an Ochilian arms dealer who is attempting to sell an Old World Gatling gun. It’s similar to the ones found on the Old Walls of Hope. Kytl found the weapon and had it broken down for movement. The weapon it’s self is very large and incredibly heavy and was designed as a static defence. Kytl works only with other Ochilians on his crew and as he believes he can trust them. For our purposes that means they are nimble and deadly.

Kytl is meeting with representatives of an interested buyer called Mr Autumn. Autumn will not among them however it is believed these men are actually Specials for the Confederate Army. Confederate sightings have been up and if reports are to be believed this is possibly the first wave in an invasion force. As always The White Group remains impartial in such matters.

The Gatling Gun must be destroyed how this is achieved is up to the operative. Just keep in mind those Ochilians are smart and can spot an imposter easily.

Protection.

Location: Skycove.

Objective: Protect Jenner Reese, Deliver Jenner Reese to the Airship Horus.

Information: Jenner Resse is 21 year old woman from the Peaks who is under threat. Her Father is an influential man in The Northern Peaks District called Cal Reese. Jenner ran away from about a year ago and made her way down to the Flats where she’s been working at a Pirate place called Kiladeys serving grog to drunks. I don’t really get it either but apparently The Peaks is a lot more conservative than The Flats so maybe it was a youthful rebellion thing.
In any case her father has become embroiled in a private war up in the Peaks which turned personal when the families got dragged in to it. So far Reese has lost a son and two daughters so he is understandably concerned about Jenner. His rival is a man called Mozambique who has also lost family at the hands of Reese. It’s a pissing contest that got out of hand. In any case Mozambique has put a price on the rest of Cal Reese’s children.
That means every two bit hitman or gun slinger from across the Flats is gunning for Jenner Reese. It your job to make sure Jenner survives long enough to get to a passenger Airship called the Horus that is docking at Farpoint in four days. Your contact on board the Horus is a Mercenary called Mr Costner that will bring her safely back to The Peaks.
The young Jenner is apparently identifiable by her flame red hair and freckles. She is currently held up in the Thorny Rose Inn at Skycove after surviving an attempt on her life. She knows people are looking for her but whether or not she actually wants to go back to The Peaks is another issue but not we need to be concerned with. Get her Farpoint, on the Horus and into Costner’s hands. You will receive payment there.

Mission: Protect the town from the bandits.
Plan: Divide and Conquer.
Alexander shuffled up the road feeling all the damage he had taken the day before. He could barely move his left shoulder, if it had been his right struck by the bolt he wouldn't have even taken the job. He finally arrived to the town were the people were gathered ready to meet him. When they saw his beat up shape they all whispered in almost perfect unison, "This is what we saved up so long for?" "I heard that and trust me I can function just fine, there are thirty of them anyways not even the white groups agents are good enough to take on 30 gang members at once, right now you're not paying for my body, but my mind and no matter how broken I become physically my mind will always be worth the price." Alexander said looking each in the eye showing no sign of the pain that he was really in just by moving his jaw after the beating he took. "Now the leader of this town please step forward." Alexander said politely, but also very commanding. A young woman whom looked wise beyond her years stepped forward and replied, "That would be me I suppose."

"How many times has this town been raided?"
"We lost count a while ago."
"How many deaths?"
"We don't fight back anymore so none, but at the rate they are taking our money and supplies we will start to starve in a few weeks."
"Which direction do they come from and in what kind of formation?"
"They come in the same way as you did and as best as I can tell they're just a big blob of men with no real organization."
"How well do they follow their leaders orders?"
"Not well, it can take days for the leader to gather up some of the hornier gang members." at that she looked down and back up obviously pained and embarrassed.
"When do they attack?"
"usually midday, Friday or Saturday."
They continued to talk about what weapons the gang would come with and other such important things.
"Okay, so they're predictable, disorderly, and disobedient. Yeah they don't stand a chance." He said lifting her chin up slightly and giving a big smile, which would have been extremely attractive if his face wasn't welted and swollen all over.

"Alright, anyone who would like to fight step over to me anyone who either can't or wont fight are going to help set up for our counter attack, fighting is optional that is not." Alexander said. 12 men and 3 women stepped over to them including the leader of the town. "Alright you ten and all the children I want you to go onto that mountain and start digging a trench that is just deep enough to not be seen if you squat." Alexander said pointing at the crowd. "The fifteen to fight gather any viable weapons and explosives that you may have." Alexander continued. "I am also going to need two houses that some people aren't to fond of that is near the entrance of the town and they have to be across from each other, but not directly they have to stagger a bit."
The leader who's name he had learned was Tabitha volunteered her home and another man named Ricky volunteered his house which was in the perfect position to both hide men and set explosives by.

He set the rest of the town to work digging two shallow ditches in the place were the enemy should be cut off from each other and stunned the holes would be be filled with explosives and shrapnel like things such as nails, plates, jewelry, and silver ware Alexander had also brought with him 30 musket balls that were split evenly between the two holes. Soon the explosives on the two houses were set in such away to blow them down across the road effectively cutting the enemy down the middle. All the miners willing to fight were to take on the back end which they determined to be the weaker end as they were lesser in armaments and armor. Alexander would hold against the front side long enough to be reinforced by the miners on the back side. He was probably putting to much faith into the ability of the miners, but he didn't seem to have much other choice.

Soon it was midday Friday and Alexander's forward scout came running in yelling, "They're coming, They're coming!" Alexander yelled out for the men and women to get into position which they did flawlessly. After five minutes the gang crested the hill and Alexander's explosive lighters got into position. After three more Alexander walked out in front of the gang and yelled "Halt!" which was the signal for the lighters to light the string. They did halt if only to laugh. First the houses exploded killing two of the enemy that were in the derbies way, the debris did their job and effectively cut off the enemy from escape. Then the two shrapnel mines went off in perfect unison blowing away at least half the men on both sides of the enemy. The miners then charged in almost perfect unison with Alexander as he charged at the enemy who was now stunned and confused. Alexander recognized who the leader was right away and charged at him whilst he was still dazed, cutting him neatly two. Alexander then moved on to the next and then the next. Sadly the men were coming back together on both sides. But, the miners had killed enough in the first charge that there was no way they could lose now. Alexander on the other hand was no so lucky. They had already stabbed him twice and one had thrown a knife that cut at the side of Alexander's cheek causing the skin to separate and even though Alexander's mouth was closed you could actually see some of his perfectly white teeth. But, Alexander fought on dogging and slicing. Then Alexander was shot right in the upper leg by one of the younger looking gang members, it wasn't immediately deadly by it's self, but Alexander was so completely surrounded that when he fell to the ground 4 men jumped on top of him right away, which helped they tangled themselves up hurting each other and stalling Alexander's death just long enough for the miners to make it around the debris and for them to defeat the remaining bandits killing them down to the last man whom seemed was going to get away, but Alexander took out the gun he had picked up earlier aimed, and fired striking the man in the side of the head blowing his head to pieces in a shower of crimson blood and brain matter. The men and women's cheers were the last thing Alexander heard before loosing conciseness. He woke up 3 days later with Tabitha and the towns local doctor standing over him. "Well I best be on my way." Alexander said but he didn't even attempt to stand up. "That was a close call kid, you were in surgery for three hours as I dug this here bullet out of your leg." The man said whilst gesturing to the metal slug in his hand.

"I've had worse."
"Maybe you've felt more pain, but there is almost no way you've came that close to death before." Tabitha said
"You'd be surprised. Doc how long do you think I need to stay before my leg is healed up enough to get back to base?"
"Depends on were base is."
"Not close."
"I'd give it a month before we even try to walk on it and maybe another 6 months of physical therapy."
"So two weeks then?"
"I guess. You know as long as you're fine with losing a leg."
"Three then?"
"I guess if you really rough it you could do it in three, as long as you don't walk on it for a little while after that."

Three weeks later Alexander waved goodbye to the townsfolk and headed back to the white group hide out using his sword as a cane the whole way. It took him quadruple the time it took him to get there, but he made it all the same.

He headed up to Mr. Charles's room and told him what happened and how Alexander's leg was.

Mission: Complete, Alexander was Mortally wounded and permanently scared in many places, but the damage to the town was minimal and very few miners lost their lives in the battle.

Weariness. That's all that lingered in Arachne Webspinner now. Almost a month and a half ago, she'd accepted a job from Mr. Charles, tasking her to track down Rivian Kytl and destroy his Old World weapon. She'd accepted, though only because she knew Rivian was from a rival tribe and she wanted to kill him for personal reasons.

The first two weeks she spent wandering the Flats aimlessly, questioning any Ochil tribes she met up with if they'd seen or heard anything of Rivian. The answer was always a regretful no, followed with directions to another tribe who might have seen him. After being directed to a tribe she'd already visited, Arachne began to suspect that she was being led on a wild dog chase.

Getting nowhere, Arachne trekked back to her old tribe to replenish her diminished food supply and get a bit of rest. She had to consult with her shaman and see if he could offer her any advice. Her arrival was heralded by a good sized clamor of men and women who remembered the young, but spirited Arachne who'd left their village so long ago.

"Ay, there's a glim we've not scryed in these dunes a fair shake!" cried the shaman upon seeing her enter his hut. Arachne dropped to her knees and respectfully bowed before the shaman, greeting him in the old language. Old Shakeman Coyote chuckled, but said nothing. Some Ochil never shook the old habits.

"I've skimmed a vast sandsea to seek your knowings, Old Shakeman. Rivian be loose with an Old World terrorgun, and I'm possessed to put the breaking on it. Can you give me a twister to chase?" Coyote sat back and stroked his long beard, weighing unknown things and making decisions. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet and retrieved his old bowl of knucklebones.

"Tis a slippery, shaky thing you seek, young Spinner. Know this: I can only give you a wild twister, not a homeward eagle, point? You'll have to make of it what you can feel." Arachne nodded sharply, to which the shaman responded in kind.

Taking a deep breath, Old Shakeman Coyote began to chant, invoking the power of the spirits to guide his hands. He gently swayed back and forth, swishing the knucklebones about in his bowl and rising in crescendo. At the peak of his chant, the old man upended his bowl onto a mat he had laid out in front of him, sending the bones tumbling.

"Now, let's see what the dunespirits have to whisper to us, eh?" Coyote retrieved an old, chipped pair of spectacles and perched them on the bridge of his nose, examining the bones in the musty firelight. He hmmed and hahed for a moment, reading the signs with a frown. Finally, with a quick sweep, Coyote gathered up his bones and put them back in the bowl.

"Your fly hides in the shadow of the setting sun, hoping that the strength of his trees will protect him. Beware, for many jackals guard his treasure. That's all the sign I can read you. Please, child. Stay with us a moon and rest. Not often do pups return to the den, and we should celebrate!"

Old Shakeman Coyote led Arachne to the village bonfire pit, where most of the Ochil had already gathered to partake of the evening meal. He sat Arachne down at an empty seat and took his place in the middle. He led the village in evening blessings and prayers, thanking the dunes for sparing them another day and continuing to provide them with food.

Arachne had just begun to eat when a familiar voice intruded into her thought space.

"Only one person I've ever known wears a hood to mealtime." Arachne turned, only to be attacked and dragged to the ground. Her indignant cry soon faded to a subdued laughter as her childhood friend Armored Serpent bit her ear in a friendly manner. Arachne managed to regain her feet, engaging in casual dinner conversation with her friend and making small talk till the meal was over.

"So what drags you back to the den?" queried Serpent. Arachne looked her friend in the eye very seriously for a moment before detailing her mission. Without hesitation, Serpent informed Arachne that she'd be having some company for the duration of her mission. Arachne made to argue, but couldn't due to a pair of lips pressing themselves against hers. The night passed quickly for the pair, who were very glad to be reunited.

That morning, Arachne woke before her lazing companion, though she didn't want to move for fear of disrupting the peace she felt at that moment. How long had it been since she'd spent a night in the embrace of a lover? Too long, she decided.

"Morning, sleeps-for-ten-hours," Serpent whispered into her ear. Arachne giggled and rolled over, pulling her bed-mate down for another kiss. She brushed some hair out of her face with a smile.

"I've missed you, you know. You should visit more often." Arachne nodded in agreement and got up to get dressed. She could sense Serpent eyeing her form, admiring her from her vantage point on the ground. Arachne turned and was treated to the same show, though of course Serpent made it more sensual and exciting. Arachne's demeanor slowly changed to a more serious tone.

"Arm...You need to get knowing of my work. When we complete the job, you can't be tagging along like a pup. I-" Serpent interrupted her before she could finish her thought.

"Shhh...You gab on like a fowl. Let's focus on the works we've got before worrying if the sun will fall from the sky, eh?" Without waiting for an answer, she pulled on the last of her plate armor and retrieved her Shi'kla, or whip-spear. Sighing in defeat, Arachne followed her and took the lead.

Another week in travel heading west found them at the horizon line of an oasis, the indicator Old Shakeman had warned them of. Once they'd closed the distance a bit more, Arachne could tell that something was amiss here. She picked up her pace, hoping her fears weren't true. Unfortunately, they were.

The oasis was deserted, and neither the Gatling gun, nor the men supposed to be guarding it were anywhere to be found. At first, Arachne simply thought they were mislead and that there was another place they were supposed to be. However, on closer inspection, Arachne picked up signs that there were indeed a group of people camped here.

"I don't understand, Arm. We're here! Why's the terrorgun and all the jackals gone? How could we miss it?" Arachne continued picking over the campsite, as if she couldn't really believe that everyone was gone and she'd completely missed her mission. Here and there, large holes in the ground made it apparent that airships were docked here, and a large patch of dead grass outlined where a huge crate had occupied space for a long period of time.

Arachne bit back tears of frustration. This was the first time she'd ever not finished a mission, and to fail in such a spectacularly mundane way made it even worse. How was she supposed to tell Mr. Charles that she simply missed the deal entirely? Serpent rested her hand on her friend's shoulder, sympathetic but not really understanding.

With a sigh, Arachne sat down and explained everything. To any other person, she wouldn't even consider telling them her real name, but this was Armored Serpent, who had been her best friend since practically birth. She explained her work as an assassin, the White Group, Mr. Charles, everything.

"I've not the faintest whisper of what happens to a nightwalker who fails a tasking. I don't know if I'll be whipped, broken or put in the sand. I've got the shakes about it." Serpent thought to herself for a while, then shrugged.

"Just explain. If you say you had to chase a dog for a month and the deal happened when you were otherwise grabbed, then there's nothing for it. You can't be faulted for bad tails, eh?" Her confidence started to rub off on Arachne, who finally nodded and started the trip back home. Serpent tagged along until they entered their tribe's territory, where she broke away after a long goodbye.

The end of two weeks of grueling travel found Arachne back at HQ and ready to turn in her report to Mr. Charles. She braced herself and entered his office, falling to her knees and bowing till her forehead touched the floor. Mr. Charles looked at her strangely, but listened silently until she recanted her failure. He stopped her then, brow slightly furrowed and lips pursed.

"Arachne, are you telling me that you completely missed the shipment?" She nodded remorsefully. "What were you doing that caused you to lose them?"

Arachne hesitated for a moment before describing her trip. She told Mr. Charles about the tribes she'd visited that kept sending her in circles. She told him about visting her old tribe and seeking her shaman's aid, though she omitted her meeting with Armored Serpent. She described the campsite she'd found at the oasis, and of the remains of airship anchors and the signs she read of men.

When she'd finished her tale, her employer sat back and thought for awhile. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.

"It's a dissappointment that you failed in this, Arachne, but it can't be helped now. You are dismissed without pay as punishment for your failure. Do try harder next time," he informed her flatly. Arachne bowed her way out of the office, trying to regain her composure. The shakes she'd developed from fear still wracked her body. She decided to go out into town and grab a drink to steady her nerves.

She visited her favorite inn, which served the finest Ochilian ales. Taking a seat at the bar, Arachne waited patiently to get the attention of the bartender for almost half an hour. She almost decided to get up when a pint was set in front of her. Arachne looked up at the bartender in surprise, but he simply smiled and walked away. Shrugging to herself, Arachne took a big gulp of the ale, savoring the rich, smooth liquid as it flowed into her belly.

"Only one person I've ever known wears a hood to a bar," whispered a voice behind her.

Protection.

Location: Skycove.

Objective: Protect Jenner Reese, Deliver Jenner Reese to the Airship Horus.

Before the week was up, Ada had accepted another assignment. It had never been in her nature to be idle for long, and that had not changed. Growing up in Hope, Ada had always been told, ‘An idle mind is the breeding ground of corruption.’ That attitude was solidly ingrained in her, quickly making her tense and antsy when she had nothing to do.

She had taken the first assignment she saw, not caring what she had to do as long as she could avoid sitting around and questioning her actions, as she had been doing for the past few days. Having to retrace her steps back to the Skycove did little to distract her from brooding, but Ada managed to keep her mind sufficiently occupied.

She had mended fairly well from her recent mission to Farpoint, and was able to make excellent time to Skycove, which was now much closer than it was a week ago. Having grown up in a Old World city made of unchanging stone, it was hard for Ada to grasp the concept of a ‘city’ moving around so much in the span of just a few days. It was even irritating to some degree. However, this time the annoying unpredictability of the ‘Floating City’ worked to her advantage. Time was not her ally on this mission, so getting to Skycove ahead of schedule took some pressure off.

If only finding this Jenner Reese and convincing her to come was as simple. The first issue was actually getting to the Thorny Rose Inn. Ada faintly recalled having stopped in there to ask questions at one point, and she thought she could easily find it again from that. However, it was nowhere near where she thought it was. In the end, Ada ended up having to ask after it, and, in a place like Skycove, one does not simply get information with only words. The young woman she asked seemed natural at playing the idiot until Ada flashed a few beads. It was amazing how suddenly the woman remembered where it was.

Finally, after having lost most of the morning, Ada found the inn. Of course, the scrawny, fidgety innkeeper had never seen or boarded a red haired woman in his life. His constant twitching made her want to scream at him to stay still, but she restrained herself, becoming colder and less polite by the minute.

Finally, with a little extra persuasion, he was finally ready to take a message to Jenner, and Ada was ready to punch him. She quietly gave him the passphrase that would identify herself to Jenner as someone her father sent. Though that could possibly backfire, that was all she had at the moment.

He bustled back to the small rooms clustered together down a narrow hall. After several moments, Ada took a seat near a porthole, looking out at an adjacent ship that seemed to be temporarily docked. A moment later, the innkeeper scurried back out and stood expectantly behind the counter, closely followed by a young man who immediately split for the door.

The way the innkeeper’s eye kept darting towards the narrow hall made Ada suspicious. The young man was currently blocking the entrance, and all but staring at her. She was just about to stand and find out what was happening when she glimpsed movement through the porthole out of the corner of her eye. Flaming red hair whipped around a pale face as the young woman swung across the narrow gap between airships.

“Blast it,” Ada murmured under her breath. She whirled and started toward the door, noting the young man tense and crouch as if ready to attack, desperate to keep her from following Jenner. “Let me pass,” Ada growled dangerously, already irritated. Instead of answering, the boy pulled out a knife and lunged at her. Using finesse so she would not permanently injure him, Ada kicked his knee with the bottom of her foot, causing him to trip. Grabbing the arm he flung out for balance, she pivoted with his arm over her shoulder and used his momentum to flip him over. He hit the ground with a solid thud and began gasping for breath, the wind knocked out of his lungs.

Wasting no time, Ada flew out of the door and charged across the rickety walkway to the ship Jenner was sprinting across. She pushed through a couple groups of talking people without pause, ignoring their angry yells. Ada and Jenner ran form ship to ship, leaving either unhappy or laughing people in their wake, yelling curses or cheering them on. After a short time, Jenner ran across a thin plank haphazardly strewn between two permanent-docked ships, dislodging it with her foot when she was safely across, just as Ada came to it.

Without hesitation, Ada jumped the wide gap, landing hard and rolling safely onto the deck. Jenner, seeing this, began climbing the tall central mast of the large ship. The little chase was starting to gather a crowd, all cheering on Jenner to get away or Ada to catch her, making bets on who would win out. Ada heard a couple comments on Jenner’s red hair and how it seemed familiar. ‘This is not good. We are making too much of a commotion,’ Ada thought with a scowl as she started up the mast after the woman. ‘This would be so much easier if she would have listened instead of deciding to expose herself to every money-hungry, would-be assassin in Skycove. Do these blasted pirates have nothing better to do?’

Ada was quickly gaining and Jenner was running out of mast to climb. The fleeing woman pulled herself onto the narrow, flat platform that served as a crow’s nest with Ada close on her heels. As Ada pulled herself up, Jenner began backing away nervously, eyes fixed on the cloaked woman who had so doggedly pursued her.

Jenner took one step too many, tipped back, and gave a shriek. A look of horror crossed Ada’s eyes as she launched herself onto the platform and across, stretching out her hand toward the falling woman. She managed to catch Jenner’s shirt, along with a handful of fiery hair, violently pulling her back onto the platform and spinning Jenner around to pin her to the mast, the cloth of her shirt still balled up tightly in Ada’s fist.

Ada panted for a moment, head down, not only from the chase, but also from the fright of almost losing Jenner over the edge. After a moment, she lifted her eyes up to meet Jenner’s nervous gaze and spoke in a scolding tone, “That was a rash, no, idiotic thing to do.” She slowly released her fist, and Jenner shakily leaned against the mast. “You have decimated any cover you might have had and made this much more difficult than it should have been.” Ada stopped then, taking a couple breaths to calm herself and release her anger.

Jenner retorted, “How did you find me and what do you want?” She cursed vehemently. “No, more importantly, what does my father want?”

“If you did not notice, you have a price on your head. Which means every money hungry pirate who recognizes you will be out to kill you. Someone has already tried, have they not? Yet here you are, blowing what little cover you had and flaunting yourself to everyone.” Ada’s voice was emotionless and stony, making Jenner wince. “Your father wants you safe. Whether you like it or not, that is your only option if you do not want to be murdered in the night.” Ada peered over the edge at the slowly dispersing crowd. Finally, they were getting bored and wandering off, denied the excitement of a fight and, thankfully, unable to hear the conversation.

Jenner took a cautious step toward her, still holding the mast, as Ada turned to face her again. “What makes you think I would want my father’s help? I came out here to get away from that overprotective, hot tempered maniac. I can take care of myself and don’t need him intruding in my life anymore!” Jenner’s voice steadily rose until she was shouting at the unflinching Ada.

“And you have been so responsible with your safety already. It seemed you father was not the only hot headed person in your family,” Ada said in a dry, sarcastic tone. She continued, “If I must, I will bind you in a burlap sack and carry you out of here on my back.” There was no humor or anger in Ada’s tone; she was merely stating a fact. She watched impatiently as the sun sunk lower in the sky, casting sharp, long shadows.

Something slowly changed in Jenner’s eyes. Defiance was replaced with defeat and a weary acceptance. Finally, under Ada’s impatient, questioning stare, she asked, “What’s the plan?”

“I am taking you to Farpoint. You will be a passenger on the airship, Horus, where a man named Mr. Costner will look after you,” Ada said, every word firm and authoritative, allowing no argument.

Jenner’s eyes seemed to light up when Ada mentioned Mr. Costner. “James? Of course father would send him for this.” She smiled softly. “Fine, I will let you take me to him.” She tried to sound irritated, but the happily nostalgic look in her eye ruined the effect. It seemed as though she both known and trusted this Mr. Costner.

Ada made Jenner wear her cloak to cover her bright hair. Perhaps they could reduce the number of people who might guess her identity. They made the decent to the deck, this time moving slower and more carefully. Ada was watchful and tense as she waited for Jenner to join her safely on the deck. She watched carefully for any sign of an attack, but it seemed no one was paying attention to them now.

They headed west to find a transport. Ada watched the people around them closely as she argued with Jenner about going back to retrieving her things and say goodbye to her boyfriend. Apparently that was the young man who attempted to keep Ada from following Jenner. “You lost the opportunity for goodbyes when you ran. Perhaps you can write a letter when you are safe, but now is not the time.” She had to stare coldly at the woman for a moment before Jenner whirled around and stomped off, still heading toward the dock. At least she was cooperating a bit better now. Ada still kept a close eye on her, following silently.

They had no issues finding a ship down from the city. There were only a couple other small groups of people with them, but Ada watched one particular group of three men out of the corner of her eye. They had boarded right after Jenner and Ada had, and were watching Jenner far too closely for Ada’s liking. They made no move on the ship, though, and she and Jenner began their journey. Ada knew she might be acting too paranoid, but she decided they would travel north before turning west so no one watching would be able to guess their destination easily.

After a short time, the sun was beginning to set. They saw a line of hulking forms that were clustered together. At first Ada dismissed it as piles of debris; but coming closer, she realized it was horses, all tied together and picketed so they would not wander.

Moments later, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. She covertly watched three figures steadily proceeding toward them as the darkness began to fall, weaving around the piles of garbage. Ada’s heart quickened for a moment, though nothing showed through her expression. Jenner seemed almost startled when Ada began quietly speaking in a calm voice a few moments later. Jenner, for the most part, had been sulking quietly after a couple horribly unsuccessful attempts to escape from Ada.

“Do not look around. We are being followed.”

Jenner’s eyes grew wide, perhaps realizing the seriousness of the situation for the first time. “Who is it?”

“I am not sure, but they are trying to sneak up on us…. Perhaps those men from before?” she said, the last part murmured as if she had not meant to speak aloud. A plan was already beginning to form in her head.

--------------------------------------------
As the darkness began to settle and the moon was beginning to peek over the horizon, Ada and Jenner began to sneak around to the horses. Jenner seemed somewhat loud to Ada’s keen ears, though she was barely making noise. The men behind them were beginning to realize what was happening, and after a moment, they dropped any pretense of being silent and catching the women off guard.

By that time, it was already too late. Ada and Jenner had freed one of the horses, jumped on, and rode past the men sitting around a fire guarding the animals. They all stood with a yell as Jenner’s pursuers noisily reached the horses. Thinking they were there to steal an animal as well, several of the horse-guards charged the assassins, weapons drawn, while a couple others jumped on their own horses and began pursuing the fast-fleeing women.

The wind whipped Ada’s hair as she crouched low over the horse’s withers, feeling the animal move underneath her as Jenner held desperately to her waist. She heard the two sets of hoof beats behind them, and headed for the opening of a rocky ravine to their right. Hopefully, if they were fast enough they would make it in and quickly lose their pursuers.

They darted through the ravine, though slower than Ada would have liked. She had only ridden a few times before. And, though she had usually ridden at a gallop before, for either a getaway or pursuit, she had never ridden for very long. She had no idea how long the animal would last at such a high speed.

She noticed a large crevice mostly blocked by a boulder, barely visible from the front, and slowed the horse. She dismounted and half pulled Jenner from the horses back when she started to argue. Ada whacked the horse’s rump, startling it and causing it to gallop away. She pushed Jenner into the small space, getting as far in as they could before stopping to listen. Their pursuers were not far behind, and she could soon hear them pounding through the sandy soil.

Just a moment later, they slowed to a trot as they cautiously rounded the next corner, moving away. Jenner gave a heavy sigh of relief and Ada looked at her with sharp disapproval. Jenner sighed again in exasperation, though much quieter this time. Soon all was quiet, including Jenner, and Ada whispered, “We will stay here for the night.”

“Why’d you chase that horse off? We could have been halfway to Farpoint by dawn!” Jenner said, rather loudly.

“That is what they wanted, is it not?” Ada replied softly as she turned toward the entrance. “We do not need more people tracking us than already are. Stay here,” she intoned as she walked to the small opening.

Ada carefully watched for any sign of someone watching before cautiously walking out. She carefully wiped their tracks from the sand and strewed a few sticks and other debris randomly around the swept ground. A completely clear track would be like a beacon for an experienced tracker. After a few moments, she was satisfied with her work and returned to the small opening in the rock. It was only about ten feet deep, and the rock converged overhead to make a roof. The moon shone brightly through small openings overhead, illuminating their faces in a pale light.

Ada kept watch, listening for any noise. She pulled out some food from a small bag and they ate silently. Jenner was soon fast asleep, still wrapped in Ada’s cloak. The night was cool and silent, and Ada allowed herself to drowse, coming wide away at every sound. It was a trick she had been taught early in life, and it came easily to her. Finally, the sun rose. Ada stood stiffly, stretching briefly before turning to wake Jenner.

They traveled quickly for the next couple days with Jenner frequently complaining about nearly everything she could think of, from the heat to their ‘brutal’ pace. Eventually, she became bored with this and started asking Ada questions about her life, her sword, or her profession, which she answered vaguely with only half her mind, still very aware of their surroundings. Usually, each of these questions would end with Jenner complaining about some part of her past and that she would be going back to her father. Surprisingly, Ada did not mind all the meaningless chatter. It at least kept the hotheaded woman from trying to plan more escapes.

On the third night, they made a small camp without a fire, as they had for the past couple nights. After eating, Jenner fell asleep, exhausted from the day’s travels-- and complaints. Ada wearily kept watch, leaning against a dead, dry tree that was probably centuries old. It had been struck by lightning at some point, and was blackened and split about halfway up. Ada was wary; though, she was fairly sure they had lost their pursuers. They would arrive at Farpoint sometime the next day.

In the early morning, when the moon was just beginning to sink, Ada dozed. Suddenly, a noise awoke her. She did not raise her head or open her eyes, but merely listened. She heard the noise again, closer this time. Whispered words, a sword unsheathing, and a shuffling step resounded in Ada’s ears.

Moving quickly, Ada harshly shook Jenner awake, saying, “Climb the tree, you will be easier to defend.” She pulled the confused, half-awake woman to her feet and pushed Jenner toward the tree where she obediently began climbing without argument for once. Probably because she was not awake enough to argue yet.

Ada pulled out her daggers, watching the deep shadows around them. She cursed herself for not being more careful and covering their tracks. It must have been easy to follow them, but she had been overconfident that they had lost their pursuers. A man with a rifle appeared to her right, and Ada whirled to face him, keeping her back to the old tree and her ears listening for any other attackers.

“Give us the girl, and we might not kill you,” the man growled in a rumbling voice. Ada made no reply, readying herself to lunge at him or dodge. When he noted her refusal, the rifleman intoned, “Finish her.” He turned, as if to disappear back into the shadows. As soon as the man turned his back on her, Ada lunged, not willing to let the man dismiss her that easily. Before she could finish her attack, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and flung herself to the side, rolling to a kneeling position, the swipe of a club just missing her head.

The brute who wielded the inelegant weapon brought it over his head to slam it down on her. Ada dodged the slow, if powerful movement, immediately lunging to deliver a deep gash to his arm. He roared in pain as she swung around behind him, ready to end him. The thought felt natural, to kill in defense of someone she must protect, and it only made her more determined to bring this band of murderers down.

Before she could move, she was caught off guard by the man’s wild swing with his uninjured arm, which, while nowhere near full strength, was enough to send her flying off her feet. She hit the ground hard, but scrambled up again, ready to defend or attack. A couple of her ribs must have been broken, and they screamed in protest as she moved. ‘If you let pain overwhelm you, you will be useless.’ The words of an old Guardian echoed in her mind, and she ignored the pain, not allowing it to slow her.

Ada heard Jenner scream her name, the first time she had used Ada’s name since Ada had told Jenner to call her Lyn, and her eyes immediately swept to the tree. Another man she had not noticed before was agilely climbing toward Jenner, grasping a curved sword in his teeth. Perhaps he had been a pirate, used to climbing through a ship’s rigging. Without losing a moment, she began to charge toward him. She could not let him get to Jenner, at any cost.

Suddenly, the brute with the club was nearly in front of Ada, blocking her path. She stopped, wracking her brain for a way to stop the climbing man. Before two seconds had passed, she desperately threw one of her daggers, watching as it seemed to slowly whirl through the air and sink into the man’s fingers, immediately amputating a couple of his digits. He gave an agonized scream as he fell back down to the hard earth with a groan and an agonized scream.

Without pause, she threw the other dagger at the throat of the brute before her. He was far too slow to block the weapon before it sunk into his throat, and he gagged and fell to the ground as the blood rushed from his jugular and seeped out of his wide mouth.

The man whose fingers had been cut off finally stopped screaming, probably falling unconscious. ‘One more,’ Ada thought, though she was not sure if she was reminding or reassuring herself. She drew her sword and began backing up towards the tree, her eyes sweeping the shadows. She heard the click of the rifleman’s gun being loaded, and located the man in the shadows. The arrogant man had probably thought he would not need to waste any of his precious bullets on her, leaving the dirty work to his subordinates. Now, he fumbled with the cartridges as Ada charged.

The rifleman calmly stood from his hiding place and leveled his gun at Ada, squeezing the trigger as she attempted to dodge. The bullet grazed her temple, leaving a deep gash. Ada stumbled and the man kicked her away, loading once more. As Ada lay panting on the ground for a short moment, he casually began loading once more.

Ada struggled to her feet, her head wound bleeding profusely near the corner of her right eye. “Lyn!” Jenner yelled. Suddenly, she saw Jenner behind the man, a rock spiraling toward his head. Using the opportunity, she lunged as the stone made contact, distracting the rifleman for the briefest instant. He tried to take aim, but he had no time for accuracy. His gun discharged just as Ada’s sword found its target, plunging through his stomach.

As the bullet found her flesh, Ada moaned in pain. The rifleman fell back off her sword and she sunk to her knees, dropping her sword and holding the injured shoulder just below her collarbone. Jenner screamed her name once more as she collapsed, briefly fainting from the shock to her body and pain finally washing over her in full force.

She only lost consciousness for an instant, but when she opened her eyes, Jenner was already crouching over her prostrate form. She struggled to rise, and Jenner gently helped her come to a sitting position with concern in her eyes. Ada waved her off, reassuring Jenner that she only needed a moment. When she no longer felt dizzy, Ada cautiously shrugged the backpack from her shoulders with a wince. A few minutes later, she had bound her wounds with a roll of bandages Jenner pulled from her bag. The bullet had thankfully gone all the way through, so she would not have to dig it out later. Though Jenner begged her to rest for a bit longer, Ada refused. The sun was just rising, and they had to get to Farpoint that day or the ship would be finished loading and gone, along with Jenner’s way home. They tightly bound the man who was still living to the tree, his sword just out of easy reach.

With a long drink of the water they had left, Ada rose and they headed off toward Farpoint. Though Ada pushed herself, what should have been a relatively morning’s journey took them until late in the evening. It was not difficult to find the Horus, and they were soon safely aboard. Mr. Costner, a man who seemed old enough to be Jenner’s father, had been anxiously waiting for them on the deck. He was surprised when Jenner flung herself into his arms, but awkwardly returned the hug after a moment. However, it seemed clear he had some affection for the girl. Ada received her pay, stuffing the money in her bag, and nodded to the two, turning to walk away.

“Wait!” Jenner yelled, running after her. She unclasped the cloak and slid it from her back, handing it to Ada. Ada looked surprised as she grasped the material. She had completely forgotten it. Jenner gave a shaky, somewhat sarcastic, “Thank you,” before pulling Ada into a hug. Ada gave a small gasp of pain as her ribs protested, and Jenner released her, apologizing profusely. They said a simple goodbye, and Ada walked off the ship, a rare smile curving her lips. ‘She has spirit. I think she will make it,’ Ada thought decisively.

Ada lodged at a small inn, allowing some time to regain her strength, before journeying back to the workshop. It was a much easier journey going back, though much quieter.

Ada checked in with Mr. Charles, telling him what was necessary and nothing more in a properly emotionless voice as she handed him the payment for the mission.

Epilogues.

The Coral Snakes lay in ruins with only a few survivors remaining lucky enough not to have been part of the attack and they quickly dispersed when it became clear the Snake’s time was over.

Tabitha remained in charge of Tarkan but without an enemy to focus them the miners soon began to question her leadership. Only her strength of character was able to prevent power from slipping through her fingers. Stories spread about the battle at Tarkan and how the miners defended themselves bravely, any suggestion of a ringer was downplayed as the paying for Alexander once had almost crippled the town ad there would not be a repeat.

Mister Charles was surprised when he saw the shape Alexander arrived in. For a long time it had been standard for operatives to conduct their tasks solo this was to prevent mass casualties should a mission go wrong. It was a financially motivated decision as operatives were expensive to train and it took time to find suitable recruits.

Nevertheless seeing the broken Alexander made Mister Charles question the logic. Innovation was key to his trade and his informants told him a storm was coming, the confederates were definitely on The Flats. Maybe it was time to change the game.

#

Captain Cole presented the assembled Gatling Gun to his superior officer, Colonel Augustus Autumn. Cole was one of the specials, an elite unit within the confederate army that specialised in stealth missions and counter terror actions. Their leader was a man to be respected, he had served with distinction as a special himself before a shrapnel wound gave him a gimped leg. Autumn was a natural leader of men and ambitious. His arrival on The Flats was testament to that.

He planned to take and hold the region using only his specials, this was to be achieved by using local intelligence, asymmetrical warfare and his natural cunning. So far he’d taken New Mesa without firing a shot. All he had done was supply the mad man Gretch with weapons and pointed him in the direction of New Mesa. His intelligence had suggested Gretch because of a long standing grudge with Fat Nick Escobar, the previous leader of New Mesa.

In any case Autumn had taken New Mesa and the Flats was none the wiser. Farpoint would take a softer touch while Skycove would be a tough nut to crack. The only major problem he saw was Hope. That place would never go quietly.

That’s why he had the Gatling gun.

Cole was prattling on about the weapons Specs but Autumn had no interest in such details, he was a big picture sort of man.

“Can it be mounted to an Airship?”

“Yes sir but you’d need a light ship with a big balloon, she’s heavy.”

“Good. Ammunition consumption?”

“A lot of the working parts are Old World but some will need to replaced with tougher components, the rounds we’re finding
here are of a much lower quality than this weapon was ever designed to fire. As for consumption it could rattle though our
entire supply in about ten minutes, Sir.”

“Some Ten minutes though?”

“That’s correct, sir.”

#

“Failed? What the fuck?”

“The mission was failed.” Mister Charles shrugged.

He was sitting in the Gretch’s office in New Mesa.

“I’ll expect a refund.”

“Of course.”

“You know I should cut your head off your limp legged fucking body.”

“Don’t be foolish you know what would happen if you did that.”

Gretch gave an asynchronous blink. “You really think I’m scared of your cowards?”

Mister Charles produced his pipe and lit it. “Not scared of pain, I know you well enough not make that mistake Gretch, You’re scared of going back to The Badlands, back to knocking over caravans for nothing. You’ve worked too hard to end up on that side of the desk.”

Gretch rubbed a palm through his stubble and nodded.

“Discount on the next job?”

“Of course, if that’s all I’ll be on my way.”

Mister Charles didn’t wait to be dismissed he simply stood collected his cane and made his way toward the door.

“Just-a-second,” Gretch said and Mister Charles stopped. “Couple of weeks ago one of my Girls and one of my men died under mighty fucking mysterious circumstances, you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

“I can’t hand out information like that even if we were involved. It’s a slippery slope, where would it end?”

Mister Charles pulled on his hat and left the office.

Once he’d left, Gretch slammed his palm onto desk in front of him which was covered with his work, empty glasses and vials of sand.

“Crippled fucking fuck.” He yelled then sneered “Slippery slope”. Mocking Mister Charles. “I’ll see him dead before I breathe my last, you mark my words.”

“Yeah Boss but what about that gun, the confederates got it.” Said Max, Gretch’s new right hand man since the death of Jenks.

“Yeah old Charlie’s still useful, at least his killers are. That dickwipe Autumn thinks he’s dealing with some tribal. Thanks he can throw me a bone and have fucking lapdog. Then this fucker fucks the whole fucking thing.”

“Don’t worry boss you’ll thinka something.”

Gretch looked at Max incredulously. “That’s your fucking advice? Fuck me sideways, at least Jenks came up with an idea not a fucking pep talk.”

Max looked at floor sheepishly.

“Get me a drink.” Gretch said, beat.

#

Cal Reese waited anxiously for the arrival of the Horus, he knew the ship was carrying his daughter and wanted to great her at the dock. The bad blood needed to be put aside, now was a time for Family and strangely he had Costner to thank for the realisation. Costner’s life had been a difficult one but he’d found purpose working the Reese family to the extent he viewed each child as a member of his own family. That’s why Cal respected his council.

The Horus approached the dock and Cal noted the ice coating a balloon. He’d never been to The Flats but he knew it was warm. He hoped Jenner wouldn’t be too cold.

He saw Costner first as Jenner had her hair still hidden under a scarf and he missed her small frame. He quickly ran towards his daughter and scooped her up in his arms.

“Jenner, I’m... I’m so very... sorry.” The sorry was blurted like it was a new word to him which was nearly true as Cal Reese rarely apologised.

“I know, I know... me too. Mr Costner explained everything.”

Cal hugged his daughter and then held her in place by the shoulders.

“Let’s get this off you’re safe now.” He said as he pulled off the scarf Jenner was wearing.

“Beautiful Red hair, just like your...”

Red liquid hit Jenner’s face abruptly and when she blinked her eyes open half of her father’s face was missing. She hadn’t heard the shot but Costner was already moving to position.

“Jenner MOVE!” He grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged the woman to cover. “Sniper! Fuck!”

His responsibility was Jenner so it was up to the rest of Cal’s security team to find the shooter. With their boss dead though Costner wondered how loyal the men really were.

“Jenner we have to run.”

“My hair, it’s red!” she said running bloody fingers through her hair.

The girl was still in shock but Costner was already pulling her along trying to get lost in the quickly dispersing crowd.

#

Interludes.

The Ochillian bar tender called Wynn was a broken mess but still he wouldn’t talk.

Miss Globe was becoming frustrated, there were only two things in the world that gave somebody that kind of strength, Love and Fear. This guy was scared but the question was of who?

Miss Globe and her crew had been going at the man for the last two days.

“Now I know you know this Nyx and who she works for, trust me whatever you’re scared of I’ve done worse to you already. Please let me end this, we’re both Nomads and there is no honour in this kind of death. I swear by my forbearers your body will treated with dignity. I just need the name.” She stroked his face sensually but to Wynn’s broken body it felt like a sucker punch.

Someone cleared their throat from behind and Miss Globe turned to see Angus, one of her mercenaries standing behind her.

“We found ‘em. He’s got a sister with one of the smaller tribes.”

Wynn let out an animalistic sound of pure sorrow and Miss Globe knew it was true. She turned with a bright smile on her face that made sure Wynn could see with his one remaining eye.

“Fantastic now we’re getting somewhere.”

Wynn grunted something.

“Louder!”

“White... group...” he groaned before collapsing into fits of sobs. “Charles... He said... they’d kill them... oh Mother... what have I done!”

Miss Globe shrugged and with a quick flick of her wrist ended the Ochillian’s life.

“Let’s get this bitch.”

“What about the body?” Angus asked.

“Feed it to the dogs.”

“Is that right? In your religion?”

Miss Globe theatrically looked at her hands and clothes which were covered in Wynn’s blood.

“Do I look particularly religious to you?”

#

Jobs.

Employee Benefits.

Location: New Mesa

Target: The murderer of Wynn Carnival.

Information: A member of our organisation has been tortured and murdered, His name was Wynn Carnival. The reason we are aware of this is his head was delivered to his family last week. As you all know decapitation is the worst possible disgrace to the Ochillian people as it implies total and complete submission. His family was unaware of his activities for us so we found out about it though some of our contacts in the Ochillian community. Sending the family his head was a clear movement by his attackers to antagonise.

However what is not clear is if this had something to do with us. That’s why you are to travel to New Mesa and uncover the truth. We know that Wynn, despite his name, was a compulsive and luckless gambler. This could be related to gambling debts. He also worked in a bar called Gregger’s so it could be something to do with that finally it might have something to do with his work for us.

You are to travel to New Mesa and uncover the truth.

I must admit I feel some responsibility for the death of Wynn as I recruited him and used his family as a bargaining chip. If it did have anything to do with us it’s likely he hed on so long in an effort to protect his family from us.

FAQ.

Location: Farpoint.

Target: Kevin Winslow.

Information: Our client’s recently come into possession of an Old World safe believed to contain a treasure trove of old world artefacts. A purchase she was very happy with. Unfortunately the trader she got it from, Kevin Winslow, has decided to push his luck and supplied the client with a fake combination for the safe. He is now offering to sell her the correct combo for double what she originally paid.

The safe is also old world and is of great value to the client. Therefore she will not entertain the notion of trying to pick the safe through fear it will be damaged. This is where you come in.

Mr Winslow has employed a few local gunslingers to protect him, originally he wanted us but couldn’t afford it. That’s life. These men are considered dangerous but not outside of your skill set. It’s up to you how they are dealt with. The Target is Winslow who himself is no slouch. Rumour has it he’s an ex confederate special who fled south after deserting. I know you’re thinking the confederates are a joke but the specials are better trained, more disciplined and are the leading edge of any confederate attack. He maybe a bit older but his life of recovering old world items has kept him lean and alert. Do not expect him to make the foolish mistake of leaving the combination sittings around.

How you get the combo is up to you brute force or finesse. All our client needs is a set of numbers that works. I know it goes without saying but don’t kill him until the client has confirmed the safe is open. He’s the kind of man that would pull that stunt. Additionally if you decided to go the brute force route he’ll likely be quite resistant to torture due to his time in the Specials.

A Pirate’s life for me.

Location: The Flats (More specifically the Airship Penzance.)

Target: The Airship. (That’s right)

Information: Our old friend Hamish Walker has reached out to us once again. It seems under his guidance Walker Transportation is doing better than ever, thanks of course to our intervention that secured his place at the head of the table. I even hear he’s romantically involved with his brother’s ex-Beau. Families eh?

The problem Mr Walker has is a pirate band led by Captain Redeye. I don’t know where they get these names. Most pirates avoid Walker Airship’s as Dylan had the good sense to keep them well secured and armed. The trouble is Redeye’s superior captaining ability, using old tricks like forcing his enemy to fly toward the sun, hiding in clouds and a complex sound topside ram manoeuvre he has been able to muscle his way into Walker’s business.

Obviously Mr Walker is dismayed and has requested our help in destroying the ship. The problem with Pirates is they are notoriously hard to track, therefore the operative will have to get the most up to date information possible and somehow get aboard the Penzance. Maybe Kincaid the armourer can be of some help with getting on board, I understand he’s developed a kind of personal Balloon that might be of some use.

The Penzance and her crew is to be completely annihilated, Walker has no need to send a message he just this problem promptly taken care of with absolutely no possible chance for recourse from the target. It’s up to you how this is achieved, sneak on board, use a disguise, ram the Penzance with a flame ship or individually murder everyone on board. Just bring it down.

The walk up to New Mesa was an unpleasant one. By the time Alexander arrived his leg felt as if it were on fire. The town looked like an even bigger shit hole than before. He saw even more muggers than before and they didn't even seem to try and hide what they were. "I must have been on the good side of town last time I was here." Alexander muttered to himself. Though with his new battle scars he could tell that most of the muggers didn't even glance at him twice figuring that he was a bit to much of a target. Even though he was fairly sure he would not be mugged again that didn't change the fact that he was still weary when he approached a group of women who were quite obviously prostitutes. He grabbed at his bag of beads and tossed five of them to one of the girls.
"What can I do for you handsome?"
"I'd like to know if you know were a man named Wynn works?"
"Oh that dumb ochillian? Yea he worked down the street at Gregger's"
"Thanks."
"Hey teach that animal a lesson or two. They don't deserve to be in this town."
Alexander grunted at this and then continued on down the street. He stopped at Gregger's and looked up at the sign that had a large breasted naked woman hefting two overflowing pints. Alexander walked through the door and was immediately surrounded by a sea of flesh both male and female offering him private dances and anything else he could imagine and some he could not. He pushed through the crowd and took a seat at the bar. There was another woman there serving drinks, but unlike the others she was fully clothed. "Can I get you something or are you going to sit there and gawk at the only clothed person in the place?"
"What is your name?" Alexander asked. "Gah you creeps you could have any woman in this place besides me and you go for me."
Alexander smiled his now lopsided smile, "A man named Wynn used to work here did he not?"
"Still does as far as I know, but the lazy bastard hasn't been in here for quite a long time."
"He is dead."
"What? No... no you're a lair"
"I didn't know the man, but we worked the same job together."
"I didn't know he had another job." She said in a slurred voice.
"Well he did and I'm meant to find his killer."
"Who'd he work for?"
"White Group."
"He... he was an assassin?"
"I would guess so"
"Do you want a drink?"
"No."
"Then can I help you in anyway?"
"Has anyone come in and threaten you in the passed few months."
"Other than Gretche's thugs? No one."
"Did he seem nervous or on edge?"
"No, never. The fact that he was in white group explains a lot actually. He never got afraid even when some of Gretche's thugs raped and killed one of our girls. Just now that I think about it that man never came back in. He kind off just diapered Wynn must of killed him."
"I really am gunna need your name."
"Harper Bell."
"I've got just a few more..."
at this point all the workers had gathered around and most were crying. But, as Alexander looked around he noticed that one of the girls was missing. "There is a girl missing who saw her leave?" Alexander asked with urgency. "Barbara just ran out the door naked." One answered. Alexander sprinted out the door and saw the girl weave towards Gretce's place. He chased after her with sword drawn. People darted out of their way. Suddenly Alexander was at the doors of the casino. There were two bouncers out front who looked like they could do some damage to Alexander by themselves. Then Alexander saw a gun poking out the window. Then another then another until every window had a gun poking out. Soon a scared man walked out. He was wearing a heavy duster. "What the bloody fuck are you doing to my girl!" Gretch yelled. He seemed angry. But, Alexander could see the calm on his face. His hands were in his duster ready to draw a pistol or maybe his famous throwing knives. "I reckon you're Gretch" Alexander said. "I reckon you're a dead man if you don't tell me why you were chasing my girl. If you're a rapist i'll just cut your dick off and feed it to the dogs. If you aint you better say other wise because my men's fingers are getting mighty itchy and I wouldn't want them to slip before I get to have my fun." Gretch said with the sickest smile any man could ever have stitched across a face. "No sir, i'm not a rapist, but a good friend of mine was killed recently and I have good reason to believe that woman knows who the killer is or at the very least where I can find the killer." Alexander explained whilst slowly putting his sword back into the sheath. "You lying sack of shit. She aint never been out of this town. Least not in the past year and a half." Gretch turned his back and gestured to the two bouncers to take him inside. Alexander considered fighting, but the guns were still trained right to his head and not a single gun looked like it would miss a shot. So Alexander let them take him without a fight. They sat him down in a room that was dark and had a strange mix of the smell of feces and fresh blood. Gretch came in a few moments later with a knife in hand followed by two bodyguards one a man one a woman, both looked like killers that much was clear. They took positions on either side of the door. He didn't say anything he just slashed Alexander across the face making an X across the scar that was forming over his cheek. It was a perfect slash Alexander immediately respected the man even if he was bat shit crazy. "Did you wanna kill me, steal my money, or just fuck me in the ass?" Gretch asked. Alexander was getting pissed. "Yes." Alexander said with out a hint of sarcasm in his voice. The binds they had put on Alexander were poor and he had gotten them off pretty easily. So rather than wait until Gretch got to use his immense skill at torture Alexander decided to make his play as fast as possible. Gretch screamed his eyes basically on fire from pure rage. He stabbed straight down for Alexander's crotch. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. is all Alexander could think as the blow was blocked only inches away from it's target. Alexander considered himself a fairly honorable fighter, but now was not the time. He took hold of Gretch's knife arm and then Alexander slammed his head against Gretch's nose. Blood squirted out almost straight into the air. The two guards were already moving forward. Alexander then kneed the already more or less incapacitated Gretch in the nuts and then disarmed him taking the knife for his own. Alexander then move forward with jumping blow straight for the man guard's eye. The blow was smacked aside by the woman's foot with the grace of a dancer. The big man took hold of Alexander and the woman side kicked him in the stomach. Alexander managed to tense his abs in time to mostly stop the blow, but it still hurt like crazy. Alexander slammed himself and the other man into a wall. Causing the man to let go, but Alexander also fell forward. But, before he hit the ground a placed his hand on the ground and spun back to his feet. He blocked another kick from the woman and pushed her back. He then quickly turned around and slammed his heel onto the downed man's neck as he tried to get up. The crunch that followed was both sicking and satisfying at the same time. The woman looked angrier than before. They must have been dating or something. "Did I kill your boyfriend?" Alexander taunted. The woman drew two revolvers at a speed that seemed in human. Alexander ran forward as she fired. She was angry enough to miss her first shot which gave Alexander time to get in close, but the second shot hit it's mark right next to the wound he got from the crossbow women. Alexander caught hold of both revolvers and slammed his body against her's smashing them against the wall. She lost hold of the revolvers and he came out on top slamming his fist into her face over and over again until he was sure she was out cold. He could now hear people running down the near stairs. So he sprinted up and out and ran towards the exit. "Were the fuck do you think you're going?" Asked Gretch with a smile. Somehow he had gotten in front of Alexander. "Through you." Alexander stated. He took aim and was about to take a shot when three knives took flight from beneath Gretch's heavy duster. Two slapped away his guns then the other drove it's way into Alexander's stomach. Alexander ripped out the knife and ran forward at Gretch. He tackled Gretch over and hovered the knife over Gretch's eye ready to drive it into the skull. "Who killed Wynn?" Alexander asked calmly. "Dunno I was busy skull fucking your mother when that business was happening." Gretch said then he spit on Alexander's face. "Where is the girl?" Alexander asked ignoring the spit. "She's just down the hallway I gave her to some of my men to have a good time with." He smiled. Alexander slammed the handle of the knife onto Gretch's temple knocking him out. Alexander was only a few steps away when Gretch began to stir. Alexander ran forward down the hall and through the door that was supposed to have the captured girl. She was fully clothed and there were no men in the room. Just her. Alexander ran forward and grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the room. He then pushed her out a window in the hallway. She landed on a pile of garbage. Alexander then followed suit and landed next to her. She was crying the whole time, but when he put the knife to her throat she stopped making a sound as she cried. He snuck(I know it is sneaked, but my god that sounds horrible) her back to Gregger's and used the back room as a interrogation room from the graces of the bartender.

"Who killed Wynn?" Alexander asked whilst taking out his flask of alcohol that he never though he would drink. "I honestly don't know." She cried out. Alexander took a swig of the brilliantly aged drink that must have cost the poor sod Alexander took it off of a pretty bead or two. "Then why did you run out the door naked when I started asking questions about Wynn?" Alexander asked after he took another swig. The girl was straight up balling now and Alexander was starting to get nervous that she really didn't know anything, but he didn't show it at all. "Stop crying now!" Alexander yelled. She stopped crying, but still let out a whimper every few seconds. "You don't know who I am so I think I'll tell you a story. It was one day after the largest battle the wastes gangs had ever seen. Hundreds lay dead by my sword alone thousands by others like me. But, for every one man and woman that lay dead we had 10 captives. For every ten captives we had one that would be worth a damn on the market. So the order to execute most of the captives came down the line of command. But, really it was up to me. I decided it was the best choice. I personally executed 50 or so people. But, my men executed hundreds. Other peoples men executed thousands." Alexander smirked. "Oh... oh god. You're the Butcher." She whispered. "So tell me who killed Wynn?" Alexander said whilst pulling out his new world gun and cocking it back "I'm just a spy for her, don't hurt me." She cried out tears freely flowing again. "Tell me her name and location and I'll let you go, you know I will. I'm a man of my word." Alexander said whilst placing the gun against the girls head. "They, they call her Miss Globe." She cried. Alexander gave her a look that said he wanted more. "I'm supposed to meet a direct associate of her's soon. It was just on the outskirts of town. I'll take you there." She cried out her eyes pleading for mercy. Alexander smiled then pulled the trigger on the gun and it made a loud click, but no bang. The girl blinked, but she was dead faced and that told Alexander more than he could ever have learned even from hours of torture. "Fuck." She said to herself. "You got me." She continued. "I want to know were this woman is." Alexander said whilst holstering his gun and gesturing to his bottle asking if she wanted some. She smiled and nodded he tilted it for her and she took a long gulp. "Smooth, how do you even know I was telling the truth about that?" She said after taking a gasp of air. "I don't, but what I do know is that my budget for this mission is nearly endless, so unless you have some kind of actual allegiance to this person whomever they are that isn't based around money I can double it, hell if I ask nice I can triple it." Alexander said whilst taking out his blood and brains covered stiletto. She looked at the knife and back up, "I doubt you could even match it." She said. "I'm not a patient man, so you either accept what I have offered you which is at least double the money or I kill you here and now. I know your not afraid of death at least not directly, but I'll kill you rest assured." Alexander said whilst placing the stiletto over her throat ready to slash it. "Okay, okay I accept." She said her voice not even breaking from the pressure of the blade. "Take me there and I'll see to you getting your money."
Alexander said as he untied her. Harper came in a few seconds later with some clothing. Alexander had forgotten that she was completely naked with the death threats and all that, he had to admit she was quite a beauty. To bad that wouldn't last.

They left early the next morning, she was mad that she wouldn't be getting the money here and now. But, the amount she had asked for wouldn't even have been possible to carry. Not that it much mattered. Alexander was probably going to kill her when they reached the location. They stopped at a small inn the next night Alexander wouldn't let her out of his sight so they ended up sharing a bed. Which any sane man would have tried to take advantage of, but Alexander never thought of him self as very sane. So the night was uneventful. They woke up early the next morning and they grabbed a quick breakfast of stale bread and cheese it wasn't great, but Alexander could tell that they had both had way worse in their lines of work. "So who'd ya piss off to give you that scar across your pretty face?" She asked between bites. "I led some resistance against a band of brigands got pretty beat up." He said whilst lifting up his shirt and showing a couple more of his scars. "You defended a village against bandits?" She laughed. "Don't worry I almost bankrupted them with my fees." Alexander said as a he took the last bite out of the bread. "Alright take your poddy break now because were not stopping till we get to Miss Globes place." Barbra said which was the girls "real" name

They walked another eight hours before they saw a low bunker that was obviously some kind of remnant of the old world. "There it is home sweet home." Barbra said. "This was were Wynn was killed?" Alexander asked whilst drawing his stiletto. "I would think it is the place that he was killed, but I wasn't present for that business." Barbra said as she picked at her nails. "Well go on then you first." Alexander said pointing the stiletto at ger at her. "Great threats again. You know I'm not afraid of death." she said slouching down to the ground. "Makes me feel better to threaten other people's lives. Seriously go or I'm just going to cut your throat." Alexander said with a smile that most certainly did not reach his eyes. "Fine tight ass let's go." she got up and walked to the door. She simply opened it and then ran ahead at a speed that was completely unlike the speed that she had ran away from him when going to Gretche's place. She was there one second and the she practically disappeared. He heard a click and the door behind him let out a sound as if steam was being pushed out like a tea pot. Then there was a bang and a dart was flying at him. He knocked it aside with his knife, but it still grazed his face. He almost immediately felt the effect of the drug. Alexander bent over and barfed losing what little food he had. He dropped his weapon as he continued to retch. Then he passed out simple as that.

Alexander came to a few minutes or a few hours later. He didn't know if he was in the same building or a different one. All he knew was that there was a horrible intimidating woman standing over him. "Miss Globe I presume?" Alexander said even though his mouth was incredibly dry and his head throbbed like crazy. "You would be correct young man. I hear you were the Butcher of the Wastes?" She asked. "Naw that was just a lie I told to try and get that girl to speak up about where you are." Alexander said. "Last I heard the Butcher may have been working for white group. And so does... did Wynn. Why are you guys after us?" She asked while walking behind Alexander and wrapping her arms around his neck. Alexander smiled then slammed his head back to try and catch her in the nose, he missed. "Dill get in here our guest is being a very bad boy." she called. A man the size of a mountain came in. "The regular treatment madam?" He asked whilst taking out a bag. She nodded and walked out of the room. He pulled out a vile that was full of a greenish red liquid. "What would you prefer horrible nightmares or remembering the worst memory in your life?" He asked pulling out another vile that was black. "That's not so bad. Surprise me." Alexander said. "Ha that's what they all say. I just hope you keep your sanity long enough to feel real fear." He laughed then grabbed Alexander by the jaw and opened it forcefully then poured it in.

It started the second it hit his stomach. His vision faded back to to the time he executed those 50 people. "Sir, I can't do it I can't execute the kids." James his second in command said. "You will do as I order!" Alexander yelled. "No, I'll sneak them out start an orphanage on my own or something just let them go!" James yelled back. "I can't I was ordered to have my men kill everyone and you are disobeying my orders and everyone else's!" Alexander screamed. "I won't kill them and none of the men will either, we already executed all the adults. 3 men have already committed suicide from what they've done. I will not have the death of 50 children on their shoulders." James stated. Alexander pushed passed James and walked up to the line of children and drew his sword. He looked into the child's eyes then looked away and slashed the child's head from her shoulders.

Days or minutes later Alexander came out of his nightmare and Miss Globe was holding more of the vile in front of his face. "Oh god no more no more." Alexander stuttered out whilst trying to blink away his tears. The women laughed the shrillest laugh she could it was terrifying. "All I heard was more." She said and poured more down his throat. The nightmare continued as Alexander slowly started to lose his mind. The children crying as he cut through them.

Alexander came back to the world again and he just stared ahead not even recognizing where he was. All he saw was their faces. They were no longer giving him the drugs, but all he saw was their faces. "Stop please stop..." he said as Dill came in with some food and water. "Your a tough one you know most would lose their mind after the second dose especially when they do the shit you have done." Dill said. Alexander just wept more as he felt the gazes of the children every time he closed his eyes. "Stop looking at me!" He screamed whipping his head side to side.

Miss globe came in with a new vile, it was white. "If you tell me everything you know about white group I'll give you this, it is a poison. You will die and in extreme pain, but you will die." She said looking at him through the white liquid. "No." Alexander said. "Fine then, that was your only chance. I will get you to talk." She said throwing the poison to the ground. Dill came in again this time with a different grouping of bottles. "This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed at home, This little piggy had roast beef,his little piggy had none. And this little piggy went... 'Wee wee wee' all the way home..." Each line went with a bottle he took out. At the end he said, "Open wide Alexander." Dill said as he grabbed Alexander's jaw and poured in the drugs. He felt the feeling of grogginess immediately. It was a form of truth serum. Miss Globe walked back in a grabbed a hold of Alexander's face. "Do you work for White Group?" She asked. "Yes." He said whilst slowly closing one eye then the other then opening them again in the same order. "Do you know where their head quarters are at?" She asked. "Ye... no." Alexander replied wiping his head back and forth. This continued for what seemed like hours. In the end Alexander didn't give up the location of the head quarters. But, he did tell Miss Globe about a good chunk of the white group members. Telling their strengths and possible weaknesses. "I think that is most of what we are going to get from him in this state." She said. "Start trying to make him into a double agent." She said. "Madame he's not exactly the double agent type. That only works on the weak minded and the greedy and as far as I can tell he is neither." He replied to her looking nervous as hell disagreeing with her. "I know, just try if he wont turn he wont turn. Just try your best." She said then walked out of the room. Dill then went to work. He would drug Alexander up to see the dead children when he did something wrong. But, when he agreed to something the bad drugs would be replaced by drugs that made the memories go away. Slowly Alexander gave in more and more. It wouldn't be long before he broke completely. But, he was still hoping beyond hope that maybe Mister Charles would send a member out to get him. He felt like he left enough of a bread trail for a good tracker to follow. But, then again he was starting to blame Charles for what was happening right now. Strangely almost forgetting it was Dill and Miss Globe doing the actual torture. He was confused, but more angry then anything else. "Maybe if I just do What Miss Globe asks I can be free." He would think to him self. Always followed with "No, she wont stop ever. Right?"

Rising at her normal hour, Arachne stretched a bit and climbed out of the soft bed she'd passed the night in. The arms around her waist sleepily attempted to hold her back, but soon lost their strength and released her. Arachne dressed quickly and slipped out the back door of the house/shop.

Armored Serpent had followed her here from the Ochil village, which was a feat in and of itself. At first, Arachne was very angry, but that soon passed and she welcomed the company. An assassin's life could be a lonely one, after all. Putting up a bit of her own money, Arachne helped her friend acquire a long-hut, which she'd converted into half a house, and half a smithy. She hadn't gotten any business yet, seeing as to how she was so new in the neighborhood, but she knew once it picked up, they'd never be short of money. Armored Serpent had created over half the armor and weapons for her tribe, and her craftsmanship was superb.

Arachne stopped by the Safehouse to see if anything new was going on. The first place she checked was the job board, and of course there was a new posting. She had to read it three times to make sure she wasn't missing something.

"Pop a whole balloon? That's not a proper target! What is this trash?" Arachne considered putting it back, but she really needed to redeem herself, both in her own eyes and to Mr. Charles. Sighing to herself, Arachne folded the contract up and climbed up to her stash in the rafters. She'd healed up almost completely, so it wasn't too strenuous an effort.

There wasn't much here that could help her with her work, so Arachne simply grabbed some generic smoke bombs and a knife. She did a quick scan of the Safehouse, but seeing nothing that caught her interest, she left and headed back to Armored Serpent's place. Arachne was greeted very warmly on her arrival, though the pre mission jitters kept her from fully showing her appreciation. Serpent understood the importance of Arachne's work and tried not to get in her way. However, she didn't refrain from expressing her concern over Arachne's saftey and her likelihood to return to Serpent in a body bag, or not at all. Arachne shushed her gently with a kiss as she left, promising to return unharmed.

Arachne decided that the best option was to hire a ship and deck it out with finery to disguise it as a merchant vessel, then when it came under attack, to sneak aboard the Penzance in the confusion and plant explosives. She'd visited Kincaid earlier to see if he had any ideas, and he'd given her a couple gunpowder charges that should be strong enough to tear through the hull of a ship. Arachne thought it'd be more than enough to ignite the envelope of a balloon.

Arachne and her dummy vessel left port and set adrift, wandering the desert at random. She'd neglected to inform the crew of their mission, on the off chance that they did something to screw up her plan. For weeks they drifted about, and it was getting to the point that Arachne started to lose hope. One night, she finally told the captain to turn around and head back to port, stating that the thing she was looking for was nowhere to be found. On their way back, however, disaster struck.

The first sign of trouble was an extra shadow in the sand following them. Arachne wasn't the first to notice it, but she was the first to react to it. She quickly scrambled towards the opposite side of the ship and climbed the anchoring lines to the top of the balloon. She could see the Penzance in the distance, closing on them rapidly.

The Penzance rammed into the balloon of her ship, slicing through it easily. Arachne jumped and snared the side of the Penzance with her climbing hooks, clinging to the underside tenaciously. As the pirate ship circled its kill slowly, Arachne made her way closer to the top. She peeked over the edge of the keel, noting everyone's positions and moving back down. She made her way over to one of the mooring lines and after making sure no one was looking her way, began her rapid ascent.

She'd almost gotten out of sight when someone alerted the rest of the crew to her presence. Arachne's timetable just got accelerated. She scrambled madly up the balloon and pulled out her gunpowder charges. Kincaid had told her that the backs were coated in a wax sheet, and if she pulled it off, they'd stick to whatever she wanted. Arachne stuck one in the middle of the balloon and lit the fuse, then repeated the action near the end of the balloon with the other. Just as one of the pirates cleared the ropes to the top of the balloon, her little surprise detonated, throwing the top half of the surprised pirate careening into the distance. Taking her cue to leave, Arachne leapt off the Penzance in a swan dive.

"Here's to hoping my science wasn't wonked. I'd hate for Serpent to be upset with me," Arachne thought in her head. She pulled at a cord under her cloak, which released a large sheet of cloth that stopped her from plummeting to the earth and exploding all over the ground. The second charge also went off, dropping the ship like a rock into the dunesea and shattering it into many pieces. They weren't going anywhere ever again.

Her invention, which she called 'Newborn spider silk' was a success, causing her to whoop in relief and excitement. Her descent was still a bit more rapid than she cared for, but since she didn't die, she considered it a success. Arachne balled up the silk and stowed it in the pouch she'd designed for it.

A quick examination told her that both ships and crews were dashed to pieces, and neither was salvageable. Still a win in her book, though. Arachne trekked across the desert, foraging as she went for food and drink, and arrived back in the city in a month. Her first stop was the Safehouse to deliver the details of the mission to Mr. Charles and get her payment. Next, Arachne went straight to Armored Serpent's house to shower and change into some comfortable clothes, followed by a long night's sleep.

While she'd been away, Serpent had gotten several jobs and was starting to make a name for herself in the neighborhood. Ochilian goods were rare in this part of the Flats, and Serpent made the highest quality Ochilian armor and weapons. When Arachne had arrived, however, she dropped all her work to embrace her friend, nearly crushing her in an affectionate bear hug. Over the next several days, her work went slowly to allow her to catch up with Arachne.

Gretch groggily got to his feet and pulled a knife from his coat but he was far too late, Alexander had long since left.

“That little fucking cun...”

“Boss!” Max burst into the room interrupting Gretch . His gun was drawn and he instinctively checked the corners of the room. Gretch noted the small but important display of tactical knowledge. His replacement for Jenks might be a fool but he knew how to handle a gun.

“What the fuck just happened Max? Who was that fucker with Skycove Smile?”

Max knew Gretch was referring to the intruder with the cut up face.

“Dunno Boss, but I know who might know. You know Jimmy No lips who drinks in Gregger’s?”

“How many people do you think live in this town are called Jimmy and also have no lips? Of course I fucking know him! Get to the point!”

Gretch was pacing like a caged animal, he wanted blood and come hell or high water he was going to get it.

“He says he saw the Bartender talking to the guy.”

“Who? The Ochillian?”

“No the woman, whatdaya call her. She only pours drinks.”

“Harper Bell, frigid bitch.” Gretch muttered as he went for the door.

#

Sixty seconds later Gretch was barrelling through the front door of Gregger’s. His nose was still a bloody mess from where Alexander had broken it but he still brought enough fear with him to silence the entire bar. It wouldn’t heal right but Gretch didn’t care. He stood in the middle of the bar and dared anyone to make eye contact.

“Jimmy?” He said finally to the room.

“Yeah?” A hideously ugly man nervously replied from one of the tables. True to his name Jimmy no lips had no lips after an unfortunate tryst with a tribal who was going through withdrawal. Apparently she’d chewed the lips right off his head while he was passed out drunk.

“The little fucker who was in here, chased the girl, who was he talking to?” Gretch asked but his eyes had already fallen on Harper Bell.

“Her!” Jimmy shouted releasing a rope of spit from his disfigured face as he pointed a trembling hand at Harper.

“Everybody out! Now , Now, Now!” He yelled pointing at the door.

“Go on off you fuck!” He said as the crowd made its way past him and toward the door. Harper didn’t move as she was transfixed by Gretch’s stare.

Once the bar was empty Gretch pointed at Harper. Max and another of Gretch’s boys grabbed hold of the woman and sat her down at one of the tables. Gretch removed his Duster and gently draped it on the chair opposite. Finally he removed a large cleaver from his apron and set it in the fire that was burning under the hot water stove.

Silence reigned once again.

“Grecth you can’t trust...” Harper started.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Gretch screamed his face inches from Harper’s.

The silence was thick and oppressive for a few more minutes while Gretch lifted the cleaver and tapped a knuckle to it. A sizzling sound told him it was ready. He returned it to the fire and pulled out a second Cleaver.

“Arm.” He said.

Max grabbed Harper’s left arm and held it out straight on the table. Gretch shimmied up to the table and watched Harped squirm for a few seconds with a look of utter panic on her face.

“Pleas...” She started but was cut short when Gretch slammed the cleaver down severing her left arm in the middle of the forearm.

“I told you to shut your fucking mouth, Harper.” He said calmly while she collapsed in a screaming heap. Gretch dropped the cleaver and nonchalantly walked back to the fire under the hot water stove where he retrieved his other cleaver which was now dully glowing. He quickly returned to Harper, grabbed the bloody stump and pressed the cleaver against it.

“Gotta stop the bleeding, don’t want you passing... Too late.” He said as Harper’s scream ceased and she slipped into unconsciousness. The last thing Harper remembered was the smell of her own scalding flesh.

#
She came round a few seconds later to find herself still sitting at the table. She first looked at her left arm which was minus hand. Gretch was sitting opposite her using said hand as a back scratcher.

“Wakey, Wakey sleepy head!” Gretch said with a genuine smile.

“Wh.. Why?”

“I got questions, you got answers. Never really saw the point in fucking about with beatings or threats or theatrics. I’ve come in shown you I’m not fucking around. I have shown that right?”

“Right.” She said quickly her eyes wide from fear and skin pale from blood loss.

Gretch slapped her hand down on the table and pointed with his own.

“The man who you were speaking to, chased the slut over to my place, what was his name?”

“He never said.” She said panic and fear choking her answer.

“Ok that’s ok. I believe you. What did he want?”

“Wynn, he was asking about Wynn.”

“Wynn Carnival?” Gretch asked.

“Yes.” She said. Gretch caught the look of surprise in her eye. People always assumed he was just a dumb violent thug who happened to get lucky. It was a perception he cultivated far better to have people underestimate you than overestimate you.

“It’s my business to know stuff, just like how right now it’s your business not to fuck me off. Why was he asking this?”

“He said Wynn worked for the White Group and that he was there to find him. Said somebody had killed Wynn and he was here to find out who.”

“So mystery man works for The White Group?”

“Yes that’s what it seemed like.”

“You’re doing great Harper. Where they headed and why’d he pinch my whore? He sweet on her or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I overhead them he’s going to try to find a woman called Miss Globe.”

“Don’t know her.”

“She’s an Ochillian I think. A mercenary. Barbra was working for her, helped her track down Wynn.”

“Righto. Last question then it’ll all be over.” Gretch said as he stood up and pulled his Duster back on.

“What is it?” She moaned.

“You didn’t juggle or nothing? I mean I’d feel just terrible about this whole...” He managed to get out before he broke into peals of laughter while he waved goodbye to Harper with her own severed hand.

#

Back at the casino Gretch decided it was time to put get some questions answered. He collapsed into his chair and put his feet on his desk.

“Maxy, looks like The Cripple has either gone off the deep end and wants to start something or he’s got a dog off the lead. I want everybody doing everything they can to make New Mesa as unwelcoming to those White Group fuckers as possible. If there’s even a wiff that somebody’s one of their spies he goes on a spike out the front. I want people scared to even whisper the name.”

Gretch opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle a clear liquid Max knew was shine. Gretch took a long swing before resuming his orders.

“Second I want the fucker that came in here broken down until he’s a fucking paste and I want this Miss Globe bitch to explain why she’s bringing her shit to my door. Lastly that crippled fucker Mister Charles. I want him dead.”

Max just nodded this was a tall order. He turned and made his way out of the room.

“Oh and Max get rid of this.” Gretch said lobbing something at Max who was too slow to react which earned him a slap across the cheek from Harper Bell’s disembodied hand.

Max left the office to the sound of Gretch screeching with laughter.

#

Mister Charles approached the Long-hut with the smithy attached, apparently the Ochillian that ran it was something of an Artisan. He was immaculately turned out as usual despite his ride from the workshop but he was travelling light and would be carrying less on the return trip.

He knocked the door with his cane and was soon greeted by a not unattractive Ochillian who was covered in dirt from a hard day of labouring. He knew she was alone as Arachne was in training at the moment, he was sure of her routine.

“Hello how can I help you?” She said with a cheery smile.

“Hello. I’m looking for Armoured Serpent, the blacksmith.” Charles said extending his hand.

They shook while the Ochillian explained he had found her.

“I represent a rather large band of mercenaries and they’re in need of quality arms. I understand you’re the best in the area.”

“Well I don’t know about that...” Serpent began to bashfully explain.

“No, no need for modesty a good friend of mine, Arachne Webspinner, recommended you.”

“Ah a friend of Arachne’s you should have said.” Serpent said as he welcomed him inside.

She offered him a seat and some food but he declined citing the need to return to his mercenary unit.

“I’m simply here to offer you a retainer. This retainer in fact.” He said as he handed her the plain canvas Napsack he had been carrying.

Serpent opened it and sharply drew in a breath.

“Mister there’s more beads in here than I’d make in three months.”

“Consider that your retainer, someone will be by next month with more of the same.”

“What do you want?”

“At the moment nothing, but one day I will call on you and ask you to use your skill as a blacksmith to earn these beads. I expect you to be ready for that day.”

Serpent just nodded as she let the beads fall through her fingers.

“ I’m sorry but I must be going, it’s getting late.”

Serpent stood and extended her hand.

“Mister I don’t know what... I don ‘t even know your name?”

“Charles, Mister Charles. Speak to Arachne I’m sure she’ll tell you all about me.”

He doffed his hat and returned to his horse and the road back to The Workshop.

He knew it was a low move and he didn’t begrudge Arachne happiness, if anything he hoped this would make it easier for her to tell the truth. Charles knew it was near impossible to keep secrets from one you genuinely cared for. He hoped Armoured Serpent would be seduced by the beads and know to keep her mouth shut.

He also knew Arachne would pick up the subtle message of his visit, there are no secrets in the White Group.

#

Augustus Autumn rolled his shoulders and perused a report sitting in front of him telling him increasing numbers of Tribals had been mounting near the camp. It was resulting in small skirmishes between them and his men. While he’d yet to lose one of his specials he was worried about needlessly wasting supplies.

He clucked his tongue and made a decision.

#
Twenty minutes later he had his Captains assembled.

“Cole, the Gating gun is now operational and installed on our Flagship?”

“Yes Sir.” Captain Cole said with a slight note of giddiness in his voice.

“Outstanding. Captains Baker, Franklin and Lewis your groups are rested and ready to move?”

“Yes Sir we can be on the move in two hours.” Franklin responded.

“What about if we disassemble the camp?”

“Give us three.” Baker said.

“Make it happen. We’re marching on New Mesa. It’s time to let these goddamn savages know The Confederates are here and we’re going to fix this rotten excuse for a region.”

“Yes Sir.” The four Captains said in unison as Autumn dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

#

James Costner slowly pulled back the curtain and peeked out the window of the hotel room he was staying in. A blizzard was blowing outside but he was warm from the fire Jenner had kept burning in their small room at the Inn.

“Are they still out there?” Jenner asked from the bed.

“Yes. Three at least, They don’t know we’re here.”

“So we wait it out.”

“Yes.” Costner said as he let the curtain fall back into place. He glanced at Jenner who was sitting in a chair by the fire. She still looked strange to him even though she’d dyed her hair black over three weeks ago.

“I’ve been thinking James. I know someone that might be able to help us.”

“Help us escape?”

“No help me find and the kill the bastard that killed my father. Then whoever ordered him to do that and from there anyone who benefitted from it.”

Costner was only mildly shocked to hear the coldness in her voice. She’d lost her father, brother and two sisters all in a war between business men she didn’t understand. She’d mourned, briefly, then the hardness began to creep into her voice. Costner knew then that her childhood was over, her innocence lost. She ran to The Flats to find out who she was but in the end The Peaks told her. Her path would be one of death, blood, revenge and tears.

Costner knew this because he’d walk the path with as long he could.

“Who’d you have in mind?” Costner asked as he walked over to his own seat.

“Lyn the mercenary who brought me to you.”

Costner exhaled in a low whistle as he sat down.

“I don’t think mercenary covers exactly who rescued you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... Assassin is probably closer to the truth and they don’t come cheap.”

“Please, James I’m a Reese. I can give as many beads as she wants. Father wasn’t stupid he set aside enough in case of a blizzard like this. Enough to pay Lyn the Assassin to wrest control of my family’s fortune to me, after that beads won’t be a problem.”

FAQ.
Location: Farpoint.
Target: Kevin Winslow.

Despite her better judgment, Ada took a mission the moment she felt her injuries would not get in the way too much. In other words, she was barely half healed, but decided she had to tough it out anyway. Her ribs ached with every step, but it was not unbearable when they were tightly bound. Because she still only had limited mobility in her injured shoulder, she took a mission that she felt would not be terribly physical, as long as she set her stones right.

The trip to Farpoint had few difficulties, and Ada's first stop was to a busy local tavern. She casually asked after her target, Kevin Winslow, to see what she could find out. The tavern's owner gave her little of use, but a few questions to the poorly clothed waitresses brought her to the conclusion that Winslow favored a small bar a few blocks away. She rented a small room and began gathering information. It did not take her long to find out that Winslow seemed to be quite the heavy drinker. Over the course of a few days, she had even seen him enter the bar several times, always coming out at an ungodly hour of the night, dead drunk as he staggered home to his airship, often with a woman on his arm. It seemed to be his usual routine. This would be the easiest way in, though Ada did not love the idea.

The next day, she entered the bar shortly after he did, missing her cloak and long sword with only a single dagger hidden in the small of her back. After he had downed a few drinks, quickly beginning to lose any sobriety as he noisily laughed at the slightest provocation, Ada approached him and offered to buy him a drink. All cheer left his face immediately as he took her in, seeming nearly sober with that suspicious stare. When Ada confidently called out to the barkeep for a couple drinks, as if she had done this hundreds of times before, he slowly began to relax. As he took a large swig of the bitter liquid, the happy fool from before began to return.

Though they talked a bit and he asked her about herself, she found she only had to give a vague answer and he would soon be off on some tale of his life in the specials or of his 'treasure hunting' adventures. He certainly was a loud drunk, to say the least. Ada did her best to look impressed by the belching man before her, though she was not terribly convincing. Luckily, he was already pretty out of it.

She nonchalantly asked him about his work, asking if he had done anything interesting recently. That really seemed to set him off and he blasted into a tirade about how this person had bought something for this much, and he had duped this person into buying some piece of junk, and how this other person had passed up his 'excellent services' for some amateur. Ada just about had given up on learning anything useful pertaining to her mission when he suddenly mentioned selling a safe to a rich woman without even having the combination. Apparently, he had been unable to get the combination when he took the safe, but knew where it was if the lady ever paid him for it. Before Ada could learn any more, he quickly moved on, not wanting to talk too much about business. A bit late for that, though.

By the time it was early morning, Winslow decided he had drunk himself senseless enough and half asked, half commanded Ada to "come see the airship of a wealthy man." With the slightest pretended hesitancy, Ada relented and held his arm as he staggered out. They slowly made their way through the streets with only a few catcalls and threatening looks toward the pair.

They were soon aboard his little airship, and Ada noticed three of his reported 'gunslingers' as they made their way to Winslow's rooms. Not of these guards paid Ada any notice, apparently used to this kind of behavior. He led her through his office, and she shut the door as he stumbled over to his bedroom door, half-falling in with a laugh. Wasting no time, Ada drew her dagger and hit him sharply behind the ear with the hilt before he could turn and see what she was doing. He slumped limply to the floor with a soft grown. With much effort and small groans at the pain emanating from her ribs and shoulder, Ada dragged him to the bed, positioning him so it seemed he passed out on his own. It was likely he would wake up with little memory of the night, and Ada was sure his head would ache little more than usual.

Ada hastily went back into the office, and began quietly opening the drawers of his desk. Several were locked, and she pawed around for a key before going back to Winslow’s slumped form and digging through his pockets. He gave a small, groggy moan and Ada froze until he let out an obnoxious, breathy belch and a snore. He was not waking up any time soon.

Ada finally found a set of small keys in the breast pocket of his coat, and, after a little trial and error, she unlocked the right drawer and dug through the papers inside. She found a small piece of paper with vague instructions to some half buried, Old World ruin, a couple days from New Mesa, where he had found a heavy safe. There was a tiny, scrawled note on the back about digging a bit further into a building to get a small locked box that could have the safe combo inside, as well as a crude drawing. Satisfied that this was about all she would get, Ada carefully replaced everything so the drawer seemed untouched, re-locking it and replacing the key in the snoring man's pocket. She stuffed the paper in a hidden opening in the lining of the boots where it would be safe.

Ada simply walked out, carefully closing the door, and strolled right past the heavily armed men. There searching stares made Ada uncomfortable, but she ignored them. They seemed unsurprised at her departure, already having heard several loud snores from their boss' rooms. Ada returned to her own rented room, gathering her belongings, paying the owner, and leaving for New Mesa as the sun began to dawn.

It took her nearly two weeks of searching, gathering information, and even several bribes before she got a promising location. One band of Ochillian traders knew the place and warned her that the ruins were falling apart and dangerous enough that only the insane would enter.

Soon after she spotted small bits of the ruins poking up through the sand, a sand storm blew up. She took cover as well as she could in an abandoned, run down shack at the edge of the ruins as the storm hit, sending sand flying through the many holes and crack in the walls. It was nearly two days before the storm died down, and Ada had to crawl out of the nearly buried shack. Looking around, she was surprised to see much what seemed to be an ancient city now exposed, roofless, ruined walls reaching for the pale sky.

Taking the stolen paper from her boot, Ada followed the brief instructions until she found what seemed to have been some sort of mansion, now in a sorry, dilapidated state. Entering through a missing wall, Ada began carefully navigating through the long abandoned residence. In several places, parts of the floor was entirely missing, revealing a long drop into darkness. The floor creaked dangerously with her every step. Though some of the rooms were entirely open to the elements and decimated by years of wear, just heaps of rotting wood, others seemed virtually untouched, many with only a single opening that used to be a window or a door. It seemed there used to be an upper level to the residence, but it was long gone. The room she was looking for was on the lower level of the building, but she doubted there were any intact steps.

Going back outside the building, she peered at the small, faded schematic of where Winslow thought the combination might be, realizing that there was some sort of entrance on the south side of the house. It took her a few minutes to find the half buried stone steps, still littered with rotting wood from what might have been cellar doors. She hastily began pulling out what she could and digging through the sand until she could squeeze through.

She hurried down the crumbling, debris-filled stone steps, the cryptic map on the stolen paper finally beginning to make sense. Ada came to the area marked on the map and began sorting through piles of ruble sitting under gaping holes in the floor above. She did not slow for her injuries, often grunting in pain as she strained her tender ribs. After several minutes of sorting, she came across a sharp, sandy groove in the floor near an intact wall that must have been where the safe was. Not far away was a small metal plate in the wall, half covered.

Ada walked over, scanning the surface of the metal. Long, ragged scratches covered the surface, showing someone had tried to open it by force, as well as pry it out of the wall. After a few minutes of digging and pushing rubble out of the way, Ada managed to uncover the whole box. There was a single, badly damaged keyhole near the top of the door. It looked like someone had tried to pick the lock with an ax.

Taking out a lock pick, Ada experimentally pushed it into the lock, raking the tumblers. Fortunately, it seemed that most of the damage to the lockbox had been external. Whoever had tried to open it must not have known much about lock picking, or just did not have enough time and patience.

It did not take her long to realize just how difficult this particular lock was. It was much more complicated than she had thought at first. After what seemed like hours, Ada was down to her last couple lock picks and her fingers were painfully cramped, but she managed to get it unlocked. Getting the battered door open took a while longer, but finally the bent piece of metal unexpectedly burst open. As Ada stumbled backward, barely avoiding the swinging door, she tripped over a piece of wood and sat with a thud on the dusty ground.
Scrambling up again, she peered into the cramped, dark interior of the box, seeing a small wooden case sitting on several old, stained papers. She excitedly took everything out, shifting to a small pool of light from one of the many holes in the ceiling. The wooden case contained a long, gold chain studded with gemstones. Snapping the case closed, Ada stuffed it into a small knapsack on her belt. Though it was obviously valuable, it was not what she was looking for. Shuffling through the papers, she saw nothing that even vaguely resembled a combination, the words terribly faded and often missing. She carefully rolled up the papers and stored them with the wooden case.

She returned to the lockbox, checking it thoroughly to make sure she did not miss anything. Frustratingly, there was nothing else inside. Ada began to search around the perimeter of the basement, dodging around debris and piles of sand. There was nothing else there that was of any use.

Suddenly, the wind unexpectedly picked up, blowing everything around. Ada heard a groan from the wood overhead, and she paused, immediately aware of the danger of the house crumbling even more. The wind increased to a shrill screech, followed by a sickening crack overhead. Ada ran for one of the solid stone walls as the ceiling began to fall around her, covering her head with her arms while numerous chunks of wood hit her as she ran. She reached a corner and whirled around, watching as the debris slowly stopped falling.

There was no way for her to get to the other side of the room, much less the stairs. The pile of debris blocked her in. Looking around, she realized her only chance was to get out through one of the openings in the floor. Coughing from the settling dust, Ada began adding wood to the largest pile of debris. Her ribs and shoulder ached, and she had to force herself to rest a couple times before beginning again. It was quickly getting dark as the sun began to descend, and Ada worked as fast as she could. She soon became impatient and scrambled up the pile, several feet short of being able to reach the edge of the opening.

Not willing to stay there overnight, Ada decided to risk a jump. Leaping as hard as she could, she managed to catch the edge. She gasped, almost losing her grip as splinters gouged into her hand and her ribs and shoulder screamed in protest, making her feel numb for a moment. She painfully pulled herself up with a groan and crumpled onto the dirt-encrusted floor, quickly rising and hurrying away from the flimsy edge. Exiting through one of the many gaping holes in the walls, Ada slumped to her knees and took a moment to compose herself. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky a quickly fading crimson.

Moments later, she heard voices approaching. Ada pressed herself up against a wall, taking a moment before peering around the corner. There were several men, all holding flickering torches. One turned slightly, illuminating his face. Ada was surprised to recognize him as one of the gunmen on Winslow’s airship. It seemed her knockout was not as effectively memory erasing as she had hoped.

From the few snatches of conversation she could hear, they were definitely after her, and not happy about it either. Her best option was to get out of there and hope she could search for the combination later. She silently edged around the building, careful to keep out of sight as much as possible. The wind began to pick up again, throwing sand into the air and pelting Ada’s bare face. When Ada was far enough away, she broke away from the cover of the house to another ruin nearby. It would not be good for them to find her, and she was sure they would search the mansion for any sign of her.

Soon she was concealed, her footprints slowly being covered by the fierce wind. She hoped her prints would be gone before the gunmen could find them. It was only moments before two began coming around the corner, carefully scrutinizing the ground. Ada knew she was in trouble then. The tracks were still apparent and there was no way the wind would conceal them in time. They came closer and closer, and Ada knew she only had two options: run or fight. However, if she fought, she would likely lose her chance to come back and search again.

Just as she was ready to run, sure she would hear one of them call out that they found her tracks, the wind swept through. Both men paused, cursing and muttering, before pulling thick scarves up around their heads and faces, stumbling half blind through the driving sand. Their torches were madly flickering, threatening to go out, and the two men hurried around the next corner which was better sheltered from the wind.

Ada was exhilarated by her narrow escape, but soon that exhilaration faded to impatience. Ada peered into the growing darkness for several minutes, squinting against the stinging sand. She had almost decided to give up and find shelter when she heard an odd noise, nearly drowned out by the wind, which steadily grew. It took a few moments before she realized what it was, and she nearly flung herself from her hiding place. They were burning the ruins of the house.

She watched intently, hoping she was wrong, but her certainty grew with each passing moment. She realized what they must have seen: disturbed sand and one set of footprints going down, but none coming up. It was likely they thought she was still down there, trapped by the flames. Ada gritted her teeth in frustration. Now it would be impossible to find anything at all in the ruins. It would take much more than Ada alone could do.

She was sure, then, that she would fail her mission, though she was not ready to admit it yet. Infuriated by the whole situation, Ada rose and stalked away taking more care about leaving tracks behind. However, she told herself she would not have cared, or might have even liked it, if one of the gunmen came after her. Her ribs gave a twinge and she grimaced, reminded that she would be at a great disadvantage in any fight. ‘Why do I have to be so hasty?’ she mused, still hearing the growing fire even as she steadily moved away.

She found the dilapidated shack where she had sheltered from the storm before, now only half buried, and made her way inside. Having to abandon the flaming house made her antsy, but there was nothing she could do until the gunmen left. At least they thought she was dead and would have no reason to stay.

The night passed as slowly as the day had. Ada was unable to manage more than a light drowse, constantly alert for any noise. She did not think they would find her, or even think she was alive; however, she was unable to relax. Finally, morning came. The wind finally died down to a persistent, fluttering breeze. Ada felt terribly sore, barely able to rise from where she had been sitting. It took her several minutes and a lot of pain for her to stretch out the cramped muscles. She debated whether to wait a while longer, but impatience inevitably won out.

She began a slow, cautious trek back to the ruined mansion, darting from cover to cover until she reached a place with a good view of the house. It was now little more than a pile of crumbling ashes, the original first floor now almost filling the basement with burnt chunks and ash. Only a couple charred sections of wall still stood, the rest of the structure totally flattened. If anything worthwhile survived the flames, it would be nearly impossible to get to, especially if you had no idea where to begin to look. It would also be days, perhaps weeks or months, before the ruins were cool enough to walk on, much less dig through.

A noise in the background caught her attention, and her eyes darted to the area behind the house. The gunmen were still there, sitting around a fire that had long since gone out. They had already set up a rude campsite. It seemed they planned to stay for a while. Perhaps they had other orders than just coming to find her?

In any case, Ada decided she could accomplish nothing by staying here. As much as she hated it, this would have to be a failed mission. Reluctantly, she traced her steps back to the shack before setting out for the Workshop once more.

On the entire trek back, Ada wracked her brain for what she could have done differently, where she had gone wrong, why she had failed. She came up with nothing and decided it must be general incompetence. She was simply not good enough. Instead of feelings of disappointment, Ada only felt a strong determination to become better in every way. She was angry with herself for becoming so weak and feeble as to fail what should have been an easy mission, at least easy to her mind.

After a few days, she arrived back at the Workshop. She entered the office to intending to give her report.

“He did what?” Mister Charles asked his mouth agape.

“Bust right in there and give Gretch a hell of a beating. Bastard had a broken nose” Elaine McGovern said with a snort as she threw a cup of Tanu Tea down her neck.

“Then what?”

“Gretch threw everyone outta Gregger’s except Harper Bell. Last I saw her she was minus an arm and talking about getting out of New Mesa.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“I just got word something big is going to hit there soon.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Warning you now”

She snorted and took another slug of the tea. It was a viscous dark blue liquid that was popular in New Mesa and with the Confederate Army. Charles thought they would be quite happy there.

“Well C here’s your warning Gretch is on the war path for the White Group. Word is he’s killing people based on even a hint they’re connected to you, which means I’m leaving anyway, good thing to, I’m too old for this dancing nonsense. Maybe I could find a rich man to take me under his wing.”

Charles smiled and stood from the small table they were sharing at the small Pub.

“Until next time Elaine.”

#
Job: The Medua Mission.

Charles returned to the Workshop a few hours later where he found Arachne’s mission was complete but still no word from Alexander or Ada. Alexander would get a tongue lashing for going after Gretch and Mister Charles wondered if he should have Gretch killed. With the Confederate Army on the move to New Mesa though it was possible that job would be taken care of for him.

He was sitting reviewing Arachne’s report when a runner burst in through the door. It was a young boy, one of his “Alleyway Allies”. While he would avoid using a child in a combat role he had found them to second to none at the great game. They could slip in and out of places relatively unnoticed even in plain view. Adults like Elaine had their place, for there were things that people would only share on a bedroom pillow, but his eyes on The Flats often belonged to children.
The child standing in front of him was called Puck.

“Puck how did you get in here!?”

“Mister! Mister! They got the... they got...”

“Take a breath, sit down.”

The filthy child sat on the chair opposite Charles’ desk and struggled for breath. Mister Charles rose and called for a glass of water.

“What is it? How did you find this place?”

Mister Charles never met contacts in the workshop, he didn’t want people knowing the exact location of his bed.
“Followed you a few months back.” Puck explained as he took a gulp of water.

“How many know where this place is?”

“Just me.”

“Good.” Charles said as his heart rate dropped. Puck didn’t know it but the Workshop was now his home, and rightfully so the child had stalked Mister Charles all the way back to his lair. If that didn’t warrant inclusion into the White Group nothing did.

“Now what did you want to tell me?”

“The big man, your big man. They got him.”

“Alexander? Who got him?”

“The Ochillian woman. She’s scary. Hit him with an arrow.”

“Is he dead?”


“Don’t think so they took him away with them.”

“Took him where?”

Puck scrunched his face up in a thoughtful pose.

“Madua, The Ghost town.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Bout a day and a half.”

#

Mister Charles grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled a note to Arachne.

Arachne,

Alexander has been taken, the boy handing you this message is called Puck he will guide you to the town of Medua. It’s a mining town that has been abandoned these twenty years. They say a tribal band called “The Ridgebacks” operate in the area and live in Medua. They are easily the most powerful gang in the east although not the largest. This tells you something about their methods.

The Mercenary group that has taken Alexander is not believed to be a part of this gang however they are operating in Medua so expect there to be some sort of business dealing there.

I’m going to send Ada after you but it is imperative you not waste time. I want you to go to Medua and have a skulk around. See if you can locate Alexander or glean any intelligence. Do not assault until Ada arrives or two days pass from you read this sentence. If possible retrieve Alexander. If not he is to be killed. We can’t risk leaks.

C.

#

Puck handed the letter to the Ochillian woman and scratched his ear.

“So we going or what lady?”

#

A few hours after Puck had left his office Ada walked in looking tired and a little beaten. He knew she had failed her mission. The Guardian’s stance told Charles that her ribs were still in pain and he wondered if he was doing the right thing sending her out again.

If he didn’t though it would leave Alexander and Arachne on their own.

She began by explaining that her mission was not a success but Charles simply held his hand up.

“Later. Right now we have a much larger problem.”

He produced a map and pointed to the town Medua.

“Alexander was supposed to find the killer of Wynn Carnival, a bartender and one of our contacts. Something went wrong. Alexander apparently had a run in with Gretch before getting snatched by a mercenary band led by an Ochillian female.”

He looked up from the map at Ada and wondered if she would be able to pull this off. He knew Guardians were tough but this could be suicidal. Whoever had taken Alexander down was clearly smart and his team would need their wits about them. He continued with his briefing.

“Arachne is already on the way with a boy called Puck who knows the way. She’s going to observe and start working on a plan. You need to follow them and save Alexander. They only have a head start of a couple of hours but you’re going to need to lug the equipment. From the look of you I’d recommend a rifle and engaging from a distance, let Arachne get up close. Kincaid might be able to help you, he’s developed an item called a silencer that may help conceal your position.”

He gave a smile but knew it was weak. He was asking them to go against two enemy forces one of which had already taken down one of their comrades. His operatives were tired beaten and he had precious little intelligence to offer them. It could be a massacre or their finest hour.

“Of course that could all change when you get on the ground. Medua is also home to a tribal gang called the Ridgebacks. It’s made up of Ochil, Tanu and Humans so be careful. I don’t think they are working with the Mercs but they will defend their territory. “

Charles let out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry it worked out like this but this is what we do. Get the job done Ada.”

He waited for any question before dismissing the fragile looking Guardian.

#

Miss Globe watched Alexander rave under the effects of her drug.

The Blackwort was a terrible plant, it’s roots when ground up and consumed enabled the user to travel through their own memories to most painful times in their lives. She’d seen killers turn into gibbering buffoons in a matter of minutes. Alexander though was holding on and she respected him for it.

Wouldn’t change anything though.

So far he’d admitted to being in the White Group and all but admitted he knew where the Workshop was. The location he wasn’t about to give up.

That’s why she would move on to the next stage of her Blackwort interrogation. Blackwort was sometimes called scab. This was because of its highly addictive qualities. Like a child that picks a scab despite reopening a wound, addicts to Blackwort would continue to use despite its effects. By now Alexander would have enough in his system to be dependent.

She ordered he would receive no more and see if he felt like talking after a few days of withdrawal.

Alexander was chained in a basement below a shattered Old World Town. The place had been picked clean by scavengers years ago and was now home to a Gang called the Ridgebacks. Their leader, Blasta was a large man who Miss Globe suspected carried Tanu blood as well as a wicked addiction to sand. An addiction she was able to exploit. That’s how they had been given access to the Ghost Town.

The Ridgebacks provided security around the town while she and her band of mercenaries remained in the destroyed old world basement which was actually part of a larger network of tunnels that ran all over Medua.

Up top the Town was over looked by the Ridge from which the Ridgebacks took their name, this was a tactical disadvantage as a sniper could play merry Hell but if they wanted to get Miss Globe any attackers would have fight their way though the Ridgebacks and Her Mercenaries.

She felt she had enough time to break Alexander before the White Group could save him.

Max Conti had a smile on his face. He’d received a promotion at work and his boss had given him an important task that he felt reflected his growing responsibilities. Of course the promotion was due to his predecessor being brutally murdered and his Boss was a raving psychopath but on the Flats Max was considered upwardly mobile.

His latest task was to find the White Group and destroy them, with particular attention being paid to their leader a man called Mister Charles who was known to Max. Working for Gretch was a binary proposition, there were no grey areas only success or failure or living like a king or dying like a dog. Max didn’t know any other life.

He guessed that’s why he felt so nervous around Gretch. Jenks, who had been Gretch’s previous right hand, man had been smart and confident. Max figured this was because Jenks knew Gretch well and they had developed a good working relationship. Max saw this White Group job as his opportunity to do the same, to cement his own identity and reputation in Gretch’s outfit.
He’d gathered up the best men he could find and deployed them teams to seek out whatever they could find about the White Group. After seeing the beating one of them had given Gretch, Max ensured they were well armed and ready for anything.

Max of course could not join them in their search only coordinate it, he was Gretch’s right hand man after all. He knew he had been chosen for his size and strength in fact people sometimes joked that he was part Tanu. When he joined Gretch’s crew he was just a bare knuckle boxer fighting for small beads in the middle of Pubs. He remembered the night clearly as it was the night he beat both Pepe and Diego Silva at the same time. After the fight Jenks walked straight up to him and asked if he wanted to join Gretch’s crew. Of course he did.

Now though Max wanted to be seen as more than a bare knuckle boxer who got lucky. He wanted the respect that Jenks got from the men and even from Gretch sometimes.

Max was sitting by the door of Gretch’s office and overlooking the casino floor, he had boys spread out around the casino but trouble was rare here. Nobody was stupid enough to mess around in Fat Nic’s.

Max was considering getting a glass of shine when doors of the casino crashed open and man spilled into the room.
“Confederates! The Confederates are coming!”

Max rolled his eyes, the man was called Paulie something or other and he was one of the many town drunks. Instantly Gretch’s men had lifted the man from the floor and chucked him into the street.

Then they froze.

Max stood because they were acting strangely, they should have returned to their positions but instead they were standing with their mouths agape staring at something in the street.

Max bounded down the stairs to the door and took a look at what had them so transfixed.

It was an airship, easily the biggest Max had ever seen and affixed to the front of it was a massive Gatling gun.

#

The Leviathan had New Mesa firmly in her sights although she would not fire a shot from that big gun.

Colonel Augustus Autumn lowered the spy glass from his eye and turned to his signal man.

“The town is ready, unleash Captain Cole and his specials.”

The signal man nodded and ran off toward the rear of the ship. He unspooled a long rope with several flags attached to it and a weight at the bottom. He hefted the weight overboard and watched as rope snapped taught.

#

Hidden behind a sand dune Captain Cole glanced toward the Leviathan and the message hidden in the flags. He then turned to his second in command, a Tanu called Reggar.

“ Alright Autumn is giving us the go ahead. Give them hell.”

“Finally...” Reggar said before letting out a blood curdling war cry that was mirrored by the troops dotted along the dune. It was a small force of around 150 but it would be more than enough to take the town and hold it long enough for the Leviathan to deploy the rest of the force.

Cole leapt to his feet and began sprinting the short distance to the town from the Dune he looked left and right and saw his men where joining him his charge. The humans were easily outpacing the bulky Tanu but speed wouldn’t matter once they were fighting in the streets. Then the Tanu would come into their own.

#

Autumn remained stoic everything was going according to plan but you wouldn’t have known it from his face. Until the town was in his possession he wouldn’t he pleased.

“Commence sharpshooter fire.”

Moments after he uttered the words he heard the cracks coming from the sniper nests below the massive ship. It wasn’t particularly accurate just enough to make the people in New Mesa keep their heads down while Captain Cole’s team approached from the rear. The Leviathan was doing an excellent job of drawing attention.

#

“Shit.” Was all Max could utter.

“I told ya they were coming!” Paul muttered from the dusty road where he’d landed in front of the Casino.

Max never ran as fast in his life. He crashed through the door of Gretch’s where he caught Gretch “entertaining” of the dancing girls.

“What?” Gretch asked without breaking his stride.

“Confederates. Here. Now.”

“What!” Gretch said as he left the girl on his desk and briskly walked out of his office. He was still doing his belt by the time he got to door of the Casino.

“That Northern Bastard.” Gretch muttered as he quickly thought. “Send all the boys that way.” He said as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

“They’re attacking from the front...” Max explained.

“That’s a diversion. Why make it this fucking obvious!”

Max turned and told the boys to carry out Gretch’s orders.

“Where’s the rest?” Gretch asked.

“Out looking for the White Group.”

“So you sent out all our best guys to look for those fuckers in the process leaving the base almost fucking undefended?”

Max nodded while Gretch fumed before suddenly exhaling loudly.

“Not your fault. Go get some horses.”

Max nodded and ran across the street to the stables. Obviously peo1ple were starting to react and had emptied them of all save one Nag. Max shrugged and brought the animal to Gretch who was standing on the Casino steps.

“That it?”

“Only one left.”

The street was starting the throng with confused masses and gunshots were erupting from seemingly everywhere at once.
Max shouted over the din. “I could ride behind you and we could both esc...”

Gretch moved his left hand incredibly quickly and suddenly Max couldn’t breathe. He raised a hand to his throat and it came away bloody. He felt something long and hard protruding from his neck. He pulled it out and held one of Gretch’s throwing knives in his hand.

He looked at Gretch with wide eyes and spluttered out a mouthful of blood.

Gretch made his way down the steps and kicked Max in the chest, knocking the large man over. He then took the reins of the nag and climbed on.

Max clutched his throat and tried stop his life leaking away from between his fingers.

The last thing he saw was Gretch riding off into the sunset.

Arachne was roused from her sleep by a frantic knocking on her door. Blearily, she rose and wiped the sleep from her eyes, only pausing to throw a cloak around herself before answering the door. What awaited her came as a surprise. A small child hopped back and forth, clutching a note in his grubby hands and staring into her eyes anxiously.She impatiently snatched the note from him, scanning it with a frown.

"So we goin' or what, lady?" chirped the orphan. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I need a grain or two. Quit fussing," she instructed him. The child frowned, acting as if he was going to argue, but she shut the door in his face first. As Arachne began to dress, Serpent awoke from her slumber with questions already forming on her lips. Arachne assured her that it was just a small job, and that she'd be back soon enough. Thusly reassured, the armorer rolled over and resumed her dreaming. A small grin manifested itself on her face as Arachne kissed Serpent's forehead affectionately. She grabbed her bow and quiver, pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, and stepped outside. The child, Puck, hadn't stopped his frantic movement, much to Arachne's annoyance.

"Okay, youthful. Get showin' me some breadtrails. We've a man to pluck." Puck stopped and cocked his head at her, completely mystified. Her shooing motion, however, communicated her desire effectively and set him of in the correct direction. Arachne trailed behind the child, maintaining awareness of the environment around them. It wouldn't do to be caught unawares, after all.

Meanwhile, Ada began her report, pulling the interesting papers and the wooden case containing a priceless necklace from the small pouch on her waist. Before she could explain where she had found them, or even that she had failed her mission, Mister Charles held up a hand as if he already knew what she would say. Ada met his eyes with a keen intrest that belied her apparent fatigue as he explained the situation. Her eyes widened slightly at the thought of a White Group operative being captured. That in itself told her much about their enemy. She scrutinized the map carefully, quickly noting its location among familiar landmarks and figuring the quickest route to Medua with part of her mind while calmly taking in what Charles said. She felt his eyes on her for a moment as she studied the map, but a breath later, he continued. The mention of an Ochillian female awoke a vague, nameless worry somewhere in the back of her mind, but she paid it no notice as she intently absorbed the information.

"Get the job done Ada.” Ada gave a short silent nod, setting the items in her hand on the desk with little care as she nearly whirled out of the room. Mister Charles could draw his own conclusions about them, but they were of little use to her and she had no need for unnecessary baggage. She quickly gathered supplies, visiting Kincaid briefly, and left within little more than half an hour of arriving at the Workshop. All traces of her previous lack of confidence were swept away as she traveled out across the wasteland with a ground-eating stride. Occasionally, she would move wrong and a twinge of pain would run up her ribs, however she paid it as much attention as she would a fly. She had no time for weakness or recovery now, and no patience for it either.

The trip proved uneventful, but somehow still managed to be tense and stressing, probably because Arachne kept checking over her shoulder every two seconds to make sure they weren't being pursued. Puck tried to make some semblance of conversation several times, but his journey partner remained tight lipped and refused to make a peep. She simply had no patience for small talk while trying to formulate plans and contingencies in her head. She hoped that Ada would meet them at the site, so they could form a plan and not just rush this place suicidally.

Though she was forced to stop for the night, Ada continued as soon as it was light enough to see. Though she wasn't exactly refreshed, a sense of urgency drove her on. She was eager to find her comrade, but she was already preparing herself for the worst. She began fretting and running various senarios through her head as she walked, though she was quickly able to calm herself when she caught sight of her destination. Careful to keep herself hidden, she carefully scoped out the ghost town. Mister Charles was right, this was a great place for a sniper, however, Ada wondered if that was the only way to handle this gang. She took in as many details as she could before heading off to meet Arachne.

Startled out of her reverie, Arachne realized that Puck had been whispering in her ear for some time now, pointing behind him and jabbering on. Appearently he'd spotted Ada and shown her the way to Arachne's overlook. The assassin stood and brushed off her legs, raising an arm in greeting to her fellow.

It was not long before Ada happened upon a boy. She was half startled when he actually noticed her watching from the shadows and softly called out her name this was no ordinary boy, it seemed. He quickly guided her to Arachne, getting her attention.Ada merely nodded in response to Arachne's greeting, immediately getting to the point. "What information have you gathered?"

"The camp tends a fair mass, but their ways are stiff. With a bit of glimming, we shouldn't meet any nasties." Arachne handed Ada her spyglass and pointed out several reinforced points throughout the camp, as well as certain patrols. Examining her partner more closely, Arachne frowned.

"Are you in full shape to be raiding? You look a mite raggedy."

Ada noted eachpoint Arachne showed her, a general plan forming in her mind as she gauged distances and blindspots. She was quickly, though hesitantly, realizing she had no alternative but to use the rifle, though the thought of killing in such a manner gave her chills, and always had. She did not enjoy the idea of killing without giving the opponent any chance to defend, or even see the attack coming. It made her feel cowardly either way. Nevertheless, especially in Ada's condition, this would be the most efficient and least risky. The important thing now was getting to Alexander, and there was no way she would put the enemies well-being above her own comrade, no matter what her feelings on the method.

Ada was half caught off guard by Arachne's observation. She had not realized she had still been holding herself awkwardly and irritation showed briefly on her face, though it was directed fully at herself. She unconsciously straightened, as if denying her injuries, but quickly realized how childish the action was. Her ribs protested slightly, but she gave no further sign. "I will manage. In any case, provisions have already been made," she said, her tone emotionless. She motioned to the rifle strapped to her back.

Eyeing the rifle, Arachne decided not to question her friend's skill with it, nor its origins, and instead simply nodded and jogged down the path down the mountain. At the base of the path, the road widened, morphing into the main broadway through the small town. Every few hundred feet, a guard patrolled whatever route he'd set for himself. There were about fifteen guards moving throughout the town, meaning that at all times, there was at least two sets of eyes in her direction. If she wasn't careful, or missed a step, then the chances of getting Alex out alive (quietly at least) were going to be dashed on the ground. She watched the street for a good five minutes, measuring everyone's movements and when she felt confident that she knew their patterns, Arachne dashed forward into the shade of a nearby house.

One of the guards passed around the corner, whistling tunelessly and playing with his spear. He spotted Arachne at the same time she did him, and the two stood frozen for what felt like a year. Shaking herself out of her stupor, Arachne leapt at the man, clearing over ten feet of distance, and crushed him to the ground with her momentum. She quickly drew her knife and put it up to his throat, hushing the man gently.

"Oi, guardman. I've a few curiosities that I feel you'd be able to satisfiy. Shiny?" Petrified, the guard nodded slowly and swallowed. Her interrogation didn't last very long, as her captive spoke readily and she asked very specific questions. Having finished with her prisoner, Arachne shoved her knife through both arteries and his windpipe, wiped it off on his clothes, and stowed it back in its sheath. She stashed the body within the house and covered up the blood on the dirt, then returned to Ada.

As Arachne loped into the town, Ada wasted no time watching, instead quickly finding a good position to set up where she would have a view with the least blind spots. In her cloak, she nearly disappeared into the shadows. She watched carefully as Arachne came into view again, observing the movement of the guards, before dashing into the shade of one of the houses. Her timing was almost perfect, but her luck was not, and seconds later a guard happened upon her hardly a moment passed before Arachne was upon him. If it had been the other way around, Ada would have shot the man, but for the moment, she trusted that Arachne was in control of the situation. Moments later, as Ada carefully monitered the rest of the guards to make sure none would happen upon the pair, Arachne was done with the man, giving him a quick end. She soon returned, again skillfuly avoiding the other guards. Either she was very lucky, or very skilled at strategizing. Perhaps it was a combination of both. Ada rose slightly as Arachne approached, ready to hear what she had gained from the encounter.

Of all the foolish things Arachne had ever agreed to do, this had to be the most foolish. Not only did she have to cut through a heavily patrolled township, but then she had to make it through an equally heavily populated mine to the very depths to spring their comrade, who the guard revealed was under some heavy drug influence and might not even want to come with them. She explained all this to Ada, sketching a very, very rough plan out in her mind.

"I muse I can ghost the houses with a fair breeze and nary a scent on the wind. Alexander is gonna put some lead in my balloons, though. I've not the bulk to carry him, and if he's truly on the mush, mayhap he won't want to tag along. Should the Dunes smile upon us, we'll need that bangstick of yours to keep any gritters off our knees, yeah?" Arachne got up to leave, but stopped suddenly. She took the bow and quiver off her back and set them down next to Ada.

"If things go whirly and I don't come for these, take them to Armored Serpent back in the flats. Mr. Charles can tell you the way. Don't stay too long, as I can't guarentee she won't be a bit swingy with her fists."

The drug had been working it's way into Alexanders brain for days now. He was afraid, but more importantly angry. Now at everyone and everything. Miss Globe opened the door for his annual torture on top of the drugs. She swayed forward coming towards Alexander in an almost alluring manner. Her body was saying that she was friendly and inviting. But, her eyes told a different story. She was angry, but not at Alexander. Alexander was just an outlet for said anger there was something deeper. Some true hatred. Maybe Charles had wronged her in some way. Or maybe the world had. Either way, Alexander had come to love those eyes. Even when she was torturing him all he could think of was fixing that look in her eyes no matter what caused it. But, Alexander was a survivor. And he knew what had to be done. When she stepped within reach of Alexander he grabbed her very suddenly and pulled her to the ground. He then slammed his fist against her face several times, but she was recovering. She kicked him off then stood up. But, she wasn't stupid she knew she couldn't beat a trained white group agent, so she called in Dill. He charged in with sword drawn. He slashed at Alexander in a large arch. Alexander dogged, but his reflexes were slowed from not standing up for several days. Alexander then tackled Dill to the ground. And was about to throw a punch when Miss globe slammed a chair on his back. His forehead slammed into Dill's nose as he was hit. It killed him instantly. Alexander then got up and kicked Globe into the nearby wall. He picked up Dill's sword then stopped. "You are an unbelievable tease you know?" Alexander said, then he ran out and locked the door behind him. Alexander then sneaked through the mine taking out any unsuspecting guard that got in his way. Alexander finally made it outside. There was about a quarter mile to the nearest cliff. That is where Alexander was headed. He continued on with a crouched run, but he didn't see any enemies. He climbed to the top of the hill and immediately hit the deck. It was Ada, she looked pretty banged up. He stood again and tapped her on the shoulder. She immediately had him down with his stomach on the ground, Alexander cried out "Ow, fuck it's me Ada." She didn't release right away. She looked pissed that Alexander had gotten captured. They then gathered up Arachne and when back to base. But, something didn't feel right. There hadn't been enough resistance to his escape. The girls looked like they were ready to go through an army and Alexander had just walked out. Maybe he was lucky, or maybe they had a tail. But, at this point Alexander didn't much care.