Chapter 14: Junkyard Dogs

Being offered a job by Rod stung Derek's pride just enough to work. Turning down a job offered by his former rival felt wrong to the fiber of his being. Moping around and watching life pass him by was like letting Rod gain a victory over him in some indescribable way, so Derek heard him out. As Rod described the job, MythMaker rewarded Derek with a sidequest.

Side Quest Acquired!

One Man's Trash: Rod Hockenson's junkyard is a dumping ground for items deemed of no worth. Someone or something has found value there. Investigate and discover the source of the junkyard disturbance.

After Derek read the notification for his new sidequest, a notification on Dirk Dawn's job board burst into flames, and a new message wrote itself in flaming letters.

Side Quest Failed!

Derek Dunn Ace Attorney: The amberkin ruled in favor of executing Teetch kin Baaltha, and you could've done more.

Debuff Acquired!

Heretic Lite: Derek Dunn is a known accomplice of the last Carver, a known heretic. Description: In future dealings with Shaper members of the amberkin race, Derek Dunn will receive a -3 penalty to his Community attribute. Addendum: Heretic Lite does not apply to special classes of amberkin like the Queen or the Wheel.

A glowing red icon of a circle with a slash through it and Teetch's face in the center emblazoned itself onto Dirk Dawn's shoulder like a prison tattoo and a permanent reminder of Derek's debuff. Thankfully, Derek didn't get a mirrored tattoo on his shoulder, but he still cringed at the drastic change of his 16-bit likeness. It would serve as a potent reminder of his failure. Somewhere in the back of Derek's mind, there was a part of him still scheming to go back to the Giild and save Teetch, and the debuff meant that it would have to be a solo operation. None of the other amberkin would be inclined to help him.

At that moment, the thought of the amberkin reminded Derek of Duck's frantic message. There just never seemed to be a good time to read it, and once Derek had succumbed to self-pity, he'd decided not to read the message because it would've just made him feel worse about himself. For better or worse, Derek wouldn't be running any longer. He didn't know if it would make a difference, but Rod's almost incomprehensible pep talk had served as a wake-up call. Derek had forgotten what it meant to be a true Angler. Failure was the bread and butter of a fisherman, but so was the relentless pursuit of their goals. It was time for Derek to bait the hook and try again. Even if it meant failure, at least he would fail, having done so as a true fisherman.

Derek opened the Equipment screen of MythMaker and decked himself out in his gear. The familiar weight of the Wooden Rod and Iron Fillet Knife felt right in a way that seemed connected to his soul in some profound, spiritual way, like he'd been missing limbs of his soul, and their addition made him complete in a way he hadn't been since his return to Golden Lake. Derek strode through town with his head held high and paid no mind to the stares of the summer people watching the guy with the fishing pole strapped to his back and knife on his belt.

Before Derek went to the junkyard, he had one last stop to make. Duck's message was right where he'd left it, tucked into a back corner of the bottom drawer of his dresser. Derek unrolled the faintly golden tube of material amberkin used as paper, and the fresh smell of citrus Derek attributed to Amber wafted from the page. The message was in a flowing script that Derek couldn't read, but as he examined the scroll, he saw the letters and markings reorient themselves until they were in perfect English. Derek wondered if MythMaker had some innate translation feature or if whoever had sent him the message had cast a spell to make it readable for Derek. He guessed it was the former because he'd understood every amberkin he'd spoken to and was sure none spoke English as a courtesy to Derek except Teetch. When the letters finished orienting themselves, Derek read the missive.

Derek Dunn,

I will skip the pleasantries as I'm writing this message in haste. The Wheel has ordered your exile, and there is a short window of time in which this may reach you. Although the Wheel has ordered the execution of Teetch kin Baaltha, I believe that he and you, the Hero of Prophecy, have a vital role left to play. You must find a way to return to the Giild. Do not use the Keeper's Hut. Chaasmyth has your scent, and I doubt you will be as lucky during your second encounter. Once you're in Othiamphuus, wait until the Feeding. I've instructed my loyalists to take you directly to me. I will work on a way for the two of us to free your friend, but it is imperative you return as soon as possible. I fear that without your intervention, all hope would be lost, not just for the Giild but all Realms.

Spoke of the Wheel, Preevka kin Vaasla

P.S. You may be wondering how I was able to send you this missive. My Feeders stumbled upon this Swooper shortly after your arrival in the Giild. It reeks of Human, so I held onto it in case it could prove helpful. I'm unsure what you've done to garner such loyalty from the creature, but it has not stopped pining for you since your imprisonment.

As Derek read the message, he was glad he'd waited so long. Preevka may have preached urgency, but he hadn't been ready before. Pity Party Derek hadn't been prepared for the burden of responsibility, but now its weight settled over him like a cloak. He didn't have the first idea how he would return to the Giild, but he would do everything in his power to make it happen. After all, World Wide Wilco had a Gate. Why shouldn't he try and use it? First, he felt he would need some new Angler skills under his belt before he made his attempt. He would only get one shot. Derek remembered the last side quest he'd successfully completed, which bestowed him with new gear and abilities. Without a better plan, he'd start there.

Φ

Rod's junkyard had always felt out of place in a picturesque town like Golden Lake. It was hard to imagine a place so beautiful could generate waste, but dumping it all in one out-of-the-way location aided in that illusion, out of sight, out of mind. Derek understood the necessity. Golden Lake was out of the way without a convenient method to dispose of waste, especially the larger stuff, so Rod's junkyard acted as a holding ground before a proper waste disposal company could make the long trek to Golden Lake and take care of it. Simple trash made the garbage truck ride out of Golden Lake, but larger, harder-to-dispose-of items sat and languished in the other half of Rod's business, the junkyard. Derek didn't know how it generated income and wasn't sure he cared to know.

The junkyard had a ticket booth-looking structure and one of those yellow metal bars that raised or lowered to admit or deny entry. Still, the faded and rusted metal bar to the junkyard stood permanently open. Derek had never seen it lowered. It looked warm and inviting for intruders, but a security laser activated an alarm if someone snuck in from that entrance. A chain link fence spread from both sides of the ticket booth. In his lifetime, he'd seen the fence's boundaries expand as more large junk entered that was too large or cumbersome to be removed via normal means. The back of the yard pressed against the forest, and the boughs of pine trees mingled with some of the larger piles of junk on the outskirts. Derek could remember when he, Bridger, and Jake had used the same sagging boughs to sneak into the yard. He wondered if that was how Rod's mystery guest was getting onto the grounds.

The way Rod described it, no matter how much security he set up or how long he waited, someone snuck into the yard and messed with stuff whenever he wasn't looking or had to leave. Derek asked if the culprit was stealing anything, and Rod answered in the negative. He just said things were "diff'rnt" whenever his visitor came by. The visitor moved things around and dug holes in the ground but filled them back up. It sounded to Derek that Rod's visitor was a skittish animal that liked to come by when he was away, but Derek's side quest notification made him feel like something bigger was at play. It wasn't like Rod to worry about some animal rummaging through trash.

When Derek arrived at the yard, he didn't know how Rod could tell that someone had disturbed anything. Derek was no expert, but it looked disturbed enough already. There were approximately seven mountainous piles of junk, three times that of hill-sized piles. Rod's junkyard contained refuse from over fifteen years of Golden Lake's lifespan, but Derek found it hard to imagine he and his neighbors had accumulated this much waste. It was an amount that defied reason. When Derek tried walking around the yard, the piles of refuse were so tall the place had an almost mazelike effect. In some ways, walking amongst the used furniture and junked cars felt like Derek was in another time and place than Golden Lake. At one point, he would've sworn he'd even seen a suit of armor halfway up a huge pile. Rod must have had a sixth sense when it came to his junk because Derek didn't have the first clue how he would catch someone in this maze and whether or not he would spot the difference when there was an intruder.

The new and improved Derek wouldn't let that stop him. Without the credibility lent by a MythMaker side quest, he might have concluded that this visitor was in Rod's imagination, but Derek pressed forward like the big fisherman did have an elusive visitor who only showed up whenever Rod was gone. Derek wandering around the junkyard wouldn't flush out whoever or whatever was rummaging around, but he wasn't sure what he should do instead. This new job didn't immediately strike Derek as something an Angler was suited for, but then again, MythMaker also had given him a quest to slay dinosaurs and make his parents proud. He would have to make do with what he had.

On the second day of junkyard guard duty, Derek paced the grounds and tried to get into the intruder's mind. Derek ruled out using Wonder Bait to lure them into the open. Whatever the visitor's motivation, it didn't seem to be food-related, and who knew what kind of weird creature he might inadvertently draw into Golden Lake? As he paced the grounds, Derek looked for tracks but saw no signs of passage save for his own in the dirt. He decided that Rod's intruder was intelligent enough to cover its tracks. Rod showed him the areas where the intruder had dug, and the holes started in places on the outskirts of the yard and were working their way inward like they were systemically looking for something. Derek assumed they were canny enough not to show their face while Derek was actively looking around the yard. As he walked through the winding piles of trash and thought about the intruder as something he had to "catch," a plan started to take shape in his mind.

Φ

Wearing a brown hoodie, the color closest to Rod's junk he could find, Derek sat perfectly still. Derek spent the last several days examining the sights of the intruder's excursions, paying special attention to the most recent digs. Derek best guessed where he thought the mysterious interloper would strike next. Derek spent his third day on the case, testing a new use for one of his Angler abilities and setting up a makeshift trap for the intruder. On night three, Derek waited for hours to no avail; it was the same for nights four and five. Derek refined his setup each time, camouflaging his fishing line and rearranging the makeshift caltrops he'd made from fishing hooks.

Perched halfway up a pile of trash, Derek watched the yard. This evening was the sixth night he was on the case, and he felt like this would be the one. He had the most extensive and well-hidden fishing line set up, and his caltrops would be indistinguishable to the naked eye. Derek's vantage on the junk pile would ensure he got a good look at the visitor, and No Sudden Moves would ensure Derek remained hidden while the intruder wandered into Derek's trap. He couldn't be sure how he knew, but Derek knew that this was the night. The first few nights, Derek had given up around midnight and went home, but his constant surveillance and observations of the intruder's habits made him feel like he was getting inside their head. Derek had no idea what their motivations were or what they were doing, but he could feel like tonight, their wanderings would have them stumble right into Derek's trap.

From Derek's vantage, he could see a good swathe of the fence, including the branches he'd used to break into the yard once upon a time. The perimeter was well-lit, with bright flood lights pointed toward the interior of the yard, but the further one traveled into the yard, the light coverage got spottier. Junk piles blocked lines of sight, creating a warren of light and shadow that made it easier to avoid notice. Derek's best bet was to get a glimpse of the intruder as they were entering the compound. Otherwise, he might lose them in the shadows and miss an opportunity to get the jump on them. Despite hours passing with no sign of Rod's looter, Derek's surety never wavered; something inside him knew that night would be the night.

When someone spends extended periods without moving, it exacts a weird strain on their muscles. Derek would have thought staying still would be relatively easy, but his screaming muscles quickly disavowed him of that notion. His muscles felt like a guitar string that had been strained too tight and threatened to break with the extra tension. Although there was still no sign of his visitor, Derek fought even the slightest movement with every fiber of his being. Logically, he knew revealing himself to Rod's intruder wasn't a big deal, but deeper down, he suspected his psyche couldn't take another loss. He needed the win. Derek's newfound, proactive resolution to be more of a hero and storm the Giild and rescue Teetch was like a baby fawn still trying to find its legs, and Derek worried that if he fell here, he might not get back up. As Derek wondered whether sweat dripping down his forehead counted as movement, he heard something empty and metallic clang followed by a muffled curse.

The sound came from behind Derek toward the interior. If it were the intruder, he'd somehow managed to sneak in behind Derek. If Derek tried changing positions, he risked alerting the wily intruder, and even if he miraculously managed to get the jump on his guest, Derek would be at a disadvantage because they'd be nowhere near his carefully laid traps. Derek needed a way to lure the guy over. Derek had hesitated to pull the Wonder Bait from its MythMaker Inventory slot because of its ominous warning about attracting creatures that weren't native to the Realm. With Derek's luck, he could imagine it attracting a dragon or something. Derek had never asked Teetch if dragons were real, but Derek thought it was a safe bet. He just hoped they didn't like Wonder Bait.

Stolen story; please report.

Derek turned the brightness on his phone to his lowest setting so that when his phone 3D printed with its little neon laser, hopefully, it wouldn't reveal his position. The laser did look noticeably dimmer as it printed the gelatinous, white cube into his hand. Derek still hadn't heard anything from the intruder, but he assumed they were somewhere in the junkyard and hadn't cut their losses. With an underhanded toss, he threw the cube into a little clearing free of trash that acted as an intersection for several winding paths, all of which Derek had booby-trapped.

The intersection with the Wonder Bait looked like an island of light in a sea of darkness, and Derek couldn't help but feel it looked like the most obvious setup in the world. If the intruder was a human, and the muffled curse lent some credence to that assumption, they'd see that conspicuous cube in a well-lit area and avoid it like the plague. However, the item's description didn't exclude humans, and Derek had no better ideas aside from scrambling down the mountain of trash and blindly running in the general vicinity of where he heard the noise. Derek decided to take his chances and wait.

The Wonder Bait did prove to be an irresistible lure to several squirrels and a lean, feral cat with several patches of fur missing from junkyard brawls. When the cat started yowling after pouncing on one of the hapless squirrels, Derek thought the ensuing racket had ruined his chances of finding Rod's intruder for the evening. Imagine his surprise when a tall figure dressed in a brown trench coat that matched his fedora and unshaven stubble stepped into the patch of light, casting a long shadow over the fighting animals. They looked up at the figure in unison and bolted into the night.

Aside from the fact that he was rummaging around a junkyard in the middle of the night, he seemed normal. He reminded Derek of the type of guy you'd see on the cover of a detective novel. Unshaved with a rugged kind of handsome that most guys only think they can pull off. The mystery man moved with a languid grace that belied an innate athleticism that reminded Derek of all things, like a lioness about to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle. Derek's original plan had been to throw an Improved Cast while cutting off all avenues of escape by pulling taut the tripwire Derek held in his other hand, but it felt weird throwing a cast at a fellow human.

While Derek's indecision stayed Derek's hand, the man reached for the Wonder Bait and picked it up. Once he had the cube in his hand, he held it to his nose and sniffed. He turned directly to where Derek was hiding and said, "Do you know how distracting this is?"

Derek tried to shift gears from stalking to conversation mode, but he realized the question was rhetorical when the guy tossed the Wonder Bait back at him.

"I don't know who you are, kid, but someone's paying me a lot to complete this job. You scurry on back to wherever it is you came from before this gets ugly." the man said with a low, rough voice like a growl, "I won't tell if you don't."

"Who are you?" Derek asked, stowing the Wonder Bait in a zippered pocket, "And who hired you?"

The guy tsked and shook his head, "Ohhh, you thought this was a conversation. Honest mistake because of the words and all. It was more of a friendly threat. I don't need killing a kid on my conscience, especially since it's not part of the job. Now, be a good boy and listen to your elders."

Derek quickly considered his next move. If he left, he could technically tell Rod who was messing with his junkyard but couldn't tell him who they were or why they were there. Something told him that if he let the guy go now, Derek or Rod would never see this mysterious stranger again. On the other hand, Derek could still try to catch him and wring some answers out of him, but the guy had talked about killing Derek in the same way someone would describe spilling something on their shirt and lamenting having to take it to a dry cleaner. Derek didn't want to be the stain. He also didn't want to be the guy who failed another side quest.

Before the stranger could react, Derek hefted the Wooden Rod from his back and yelled Improved Cast into the night. The energy and Magic crackling through his body felt good as he channeled it into a cast aimed at a spot near the man's calf. Derek had no desire to hurt him, but he also needed to hobble him so he couldn't escape. Since he'd threatened to kill Derek moments before, Derek felt less guilty about the idea of a hook sinking into the meaty flesh of his calf, but as it turned out, Derek didn't have anything to feel guilty about. As the hook sped toward the man's leg, he waited until the hook was nearly brushing the fabric of his pant legs before he neatly sidestepped the hook and started sprinting into the darkness. Derek hadn't been ready for the stranger to react so quickly, but he still had his backup plan.

Days prior, he'd practiced cutting some fishing line and then concentrating on applying Line of Steel to the cut strands. The experiment taught him he could do it, but it was limited to one line at a time because it was concentration-based, and he couldn't concentrate on more than one. Yet Derek pulled taut a line he'd strung throughout every exit path out of their island of light. If it didn't completely trip the canny stranger, he hoped it would slow him down enough for Derek to get to him or attempt another cast. It had been so long since Derek used the ability, and he'd forgotten the following fatigue. He didn't know if there was any running in his future, but sliding down a pile of trash was still in his wheelhouse.

The stranger cursed, followed by a sharp intake of air. Derek had strategically placed the caltrops in places near his impromptu trip wires. That way, whoever tried to escape would be hindered, even if they spotted the trip wire. However, those who tripped would fall directly into the jagged traps, or at least that was the plan. Derek took off in the direction of the intruder. Derek's limbs responded better than he would've assumed. It had been so long since he used his abilities. However, the fatigue effects of Improved Cast already seemed to be wearing off, and Derek started frantically reeling in his spent line so that he could use it in another attempt if necessary. The intruder hadn't made any more telling sounds, and Derek worried his makeshift trap hadn't slowed the man down enough.

"I don't get paid enough for this," Derek heard the stranger say. His voice sounded rougher and more guttural than before, and he was also much further away.

Something birdlike shrieked from the same direction, and Derek sprinted into the darkness. He used his phone flashlight to light the way, stealth no longer a priority. Specks of blood littered the path, so Derek knew his trap had some minor effect, but the intruder powered through it. If it hadn't been for the third party crashing the scene, the mysterious man would've escaped, and Derek knew he would've never seen him again. Judging by sounds of exertion and the occasional shriek, Derek guessed both the newcomer and the man in the fedora were locked in some struggle.

As Derek approached, he noticed a smell that overpowered the junkyard's curious blend of rusted metal, mud, and pine. The new smell reminded Derek of rotting meat and blood. The site of the intruder's conflict was on another island of floodlit space, with two mountains of trash framing the conflict on either side. In one corner, the intruder stood, but he barely resembled the calm and composed man who'd been strolling through the junkyard moments before. He seemed taller but, at the time, more hunched. At some point, the man had removed his coat, and the grey button-up shirt underneath was straining against muscle and brown fur. His hands ended in spindly fingers and jagged black claws. When Derek entered the scene, the man turned his head. The reflected light from Derek's phone illuminated predatory eyes, devoid of humanity.

The intruder's opponent seized the momentary distraction. Talons raked down the man's chest. Buttons split, and flesh tore. The newcomer pushed off the man/beast, leaving two fresh sets of rent flesh down the man's chest. The junkyard intruder yelped in pain. It reminded Derek of the sound Eustace Everly's dog made the one time the old drunk had kicked it. Without thinking, Derek prepared another Improved Cast, but this time at the intruder's opponent, the one Derek knew was responsible for the new carrion smell in the junkyard. It had the scaly, birdlike legs of a rooster but human-sized. Its upper half resembled a human woman's save for the massive set of oily wings sprouting from its shoulder blades and the black beady eyes that reminded Derek of rats. The beast was human-shaped, but there was nothing human in those eyes.

After it slashed at the man's chest, the carrion creature pushed off him and flapped its enormous wings. It circled its prey, waiting for another opportunity to swoop in and strike. It watched its quarry with a single-minded determination, and if it noticed Derek at all, it gave no sign. Its movements were just the right amount of unpredictability for Derek to worry about being able to land an Improved Cast with any degree of accuracy. Judging by the devastation it had wrought on its first pass, Derek felt the hairy man wouldn't survive another interaction with the beast, his answers dying with him. Derek's only chance would be when it decided to strike again, but if Derek messed up the timing, he'd have another failed quest under his belt and a dangerous bird creature to deal with. Some of him wanted to cast Identify to improve his chances, but things were happening too quickly for Derek to guarantee he could do it before the creature struck.

The original intruder breathed heavily, turning in a wary circle, watching the bird thing. Meanwhile, the bird seemed to be watching the intruder with murderous intent, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Derek didn't know what it saw, but he saw something change in the creature's eyes, maybe a murderous gleam, but before the beast started its dive, Derek bellowed an Improved Cast. The bird didn't seem to care; its focus was on its prey. Derek aimed for a space he predicted the bird would be. If Derek judged right, his hook would pierce the connective tissue between the wing and shoulder blade. He was willing to bet the creature was sensitive there. We'll be alright if it hurts anything, like getting a paper cut between the fingers.

As it started to dive, plummeting through the air at a speed nearly faster than Derek's mind could process, he knew he'd timed the cast perfectly. When the hook bit into soft flesh, Derek pulled. The creature had too much momentum for Derek to do anything other than pull it off course, but that was enough. Its talon sank into soft earth, and it let out an enraged shriek cut short when the man pounced on the bird thing with a blinding speed. The intruder's teeth sank into the winged creature's too-human throat and yanked. A cartoonish amount of blood gushed, bathing the earth in its dark ichor. The intruder let the bird creature fall to the ground like a toy he'd lost interest in and turned toward his discarded coat. As he walked, his body slowly returned to that tall, slender man. He still moved with a sinuous grace, but it didn't look as effortless as before.

"What are you?" Derek asked.

The man didn't even turn to look at Derek, "You really want me to kill you."

"If that's what I wanted, surely there are easier ways than hanging out at a junkyard waiting for a guy in a fedora to do the job."

The intruder laughed, and something dark and wet splattered onto the ground, "Don't make me laugh. That one felt arterial." The man hacked and coughed, all the while poking around inside the wound left by the bird thing, "That should hold me over for now. You don't have a shred of survival instinct in you. Do you? Most folks run the other way when they see a wolf monster, and when they're long gone, they've convinced themselves they saw some drug addict having a psychotic break. This job has a way of cleaning up after itself. No killing necessary unless someone sticks their nose where it doesn't belong."

"Hate to burst your bubble, but Wolfman doesn't even break my top three ranking for bizarre Magical creatures."

The guy stuck an arm in his coat and said, "I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or impressed, and I don't mean to sound ungrateful, seeing as you saved my life in all, but my employers aren't the types that like people poking around and asking the wrong questions, even if they saved a bloke's life."

Derek arched an eyebrow, "The wrong questions?"

"Sure, you'll ask what I've been doing and who my employers are. Forget all that guff. They're the wrong questions."

"Alright then, wise guy," Derek said, stepping closer to the man. This guy wasn't getting out of this without giving Derek some answers, even if that meant Derek would have to get physical, "What are the right questions?"

"You don't last long in my line of work without gaining a little insight into what folks are really after. Especially the ones that are paying you to do the wrong job. Like you, you'd be asking about that mysterious fella in the junkyard, but you're interested in what those Wilco boys are cooking with the amberkin. I can smell it on ya, and I could probably tell ya something about it," the man flashed Derek a wolfish smile, "Free of charge."

"You're just trying to distract me," Derek said.

"If you were smart, you'd let me distract you, kid. That way, we all get to walk out of here."

"Promise you'll leave the junkyard alone, and I'll consider it. After all, I've got my own employer to answer to."

"The big guy? You're working for him? I didn't smell that on ya; maybe you aren't the pup I thought you were." the man said. When Derek didn't respond to the taunt, the man added, "No promises, that's one I gotta run through my employer, but I'll see if I can't talk them off this little town. That's the best you're gonna get, kid. Take it or leave it, but either way, I'm on a schedule here, so make up your mind. If you're going to attack me, let's get this over with."

Derek stopped inching toward the man, but he still clutched his Iron Fillet Knife and replied, "If you don't tell me anything useful, I don't see what choice I have."

"You're going to try and stick me with that thing? I'd laugh if I didn't know you were being serious. Has anyone ever told you you're so earnest it's depressing? Do you know how rare that is in my line of work? Especially when you're dealing with the Awakened. If I didn't know any better, you're brand new at all this, and you think you stand a chance against me? Depressing. I don't want a starry-eyed kid like you on my conscience. I'd much rather turn you loose on those know-it-all warlocks. If anyone could stand to be knocked down a couple hundred pegs, it's those self-important pricks."

Derek didn't realize how badly he wanted revenge against WWW until the stranger dangled the thought of taking them down in front of his face. However, Derek wasn't sure he bought the regretful hired help act. It seemed like a part the guy was playing to distract Derek. Rod hadn't hired Derek to figure out what was happening with WWW; his side quest reflected that. Derek didn't know the consequences if he failed another quest but knew he couldn't give up now. As tempting as the deal was, Derek couldn't take it.

"No deal!" Derek said, "Here's my counter. You tell me who you are and who you're working for, and I won't tie you up in an unbreakable fishing line and dump you into the lake. Do Wolf Men get that wet dog smell?"

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm quaking in my boots, kid. I really am," the man said, "You're sure there isn't another way?"

Derek met his predatory gaze and nodded. He held the Wooden Rod in one hand and the Iron Fillet Knife in another. He could score a lucky hit if he could get a hook into the guy. Derek didn't like his chances, but if he was going to be a Hero of Prophecy, he needed to stay the course even if the course had a surly Wolfman in its path.

In between eye blinks, the suited man had crossed half the distance separating them. By the time Derek raised his hand to cast, even with his improved Level 3 reflexes, the junkyard intruder was already in his face. With a flicker of his arm that Derek's eyes could barely track, he'd smacked the Rod and Knife out of Derek's hands. Derek stepped back, and somehow, the man had his foot behind Derek's. The ground rushed to meet his back, and his breath whooshed out of him. The man pressed an arm corded with muscle to Derek's throat and applied pressure.

"Last chance, kid," he said. He had the unfeeling eyes of a predator. A predator didn't feel remorse when it killed its prey.

Derek met the stare even as he felt his vision blurring from lack of oxygen.

Maybe if I die here, the Hero of Prophecy Magic can go and find someone more worthy? Hopefully, they'll have better luck saving the amberkin and Golden Lake.

Even as the black closed in and Derek lost his sight, he never stopped staring at his killer. Derek met his fate head-on, even if it meant his death.