“It was dangerous for you to leave her all alone down there,” said Jack as Arc helped him down a flight of stairs.

“You’re going to give me attitude even after risking my life to save you?” asked an incredulous Arc.

Jack paused and thought for a moment. “I think you’re right,” he said. “Sometimes I have a big mouth and need to think before I say things.”

“I’ve said that?”

“Not in those words.”

“Well, they’re good words, you knucklehead. Take them to heart.”

Jack laughed, but winced from the pain as his abdomen contracted and clutched onto the rails to stop himself from keeling over. “That’s my payback coming in right on schedule.”

“Quiet,” whispered Arc, pulling Jack back from the railing he was using for support.

“What?” mouthed Jack, but he heard it too. A door down below opened and Arc could hear two sets of footsteps hurriedly ascending the stairs.

The bounty hunter kept low and peeked through the railings to see if he could catch a glimpse of his foes. With a smile, Arc took aim with his revolver at the second-floor walkway and waited. As soon as the first bandit stepped in-line with his iron sights, he squeezed the trigger and splattered the ne’er-do-well’s brains on the floor.

The other bandit dove out of the way and Arc leaned back, knowing that his enemy would be aiming in his direction. All he needed to get the upper hand was a little distraction. He took two of the guns he’d grabbed from Colt’s men on the roof and slid one of them along the step and off the edge.

As it fell, there were six successive bangs and a loud grunt of frustration from the bandit. Arc took the next gun and slid it out too, letting it fall and be shot at eight times.

“Fourteen shots,” he muttered, hoping the man was using the same guns as the ones he had just slid into the abyss.

Arc quickly and quietly moved down three steps and leaned out. He emptied his cylinder as the bandit fired the last bullet in his magazine, only to hit the spot where Arc had been dropping guns from and send a small chunk of concrete spiralling in the air before hitting the wall.

Three of Arc’s bullets struck the bandit—one in the shoulder and two in the chest—and he fell into the wall before sliding along it and tumbling down the stairs. Arc listened closely and waited, but no movement from the man came. He didn’t even make as much as a moan of pain.

“Dead,” said Arc, looking over his shoulder to Jack.

The young man was as white as a ghost. “Good,” he said.

Arc walked back up to Jack and put his arm out, giving the lad something to lean on. The bounty hunter helped his young friend down to the floor where Julie was impatiently awaiting them and opened the rusted iron door carefully, not wanting to startle her.

He held up a hand signalling for Julie to not move as he and Jack stepped through the doorway and onto the grated walkway above the factory floor. Arc held Jack back, knowing that he wanted to run to his sister, but he had to make sure that they were alone.

He looked across the huge room and surveyed the machinery down below, running a keen eye through the nooks and crannies to ensure that no more bandits were lurking in wait. Even the torn apart crates and boxes could have been hiding spots if the bandits had made enough effort to conceal themselves. After a minute or so, he was satisfied that the area was as clear as he had left it before he and Julie had parted ways.

Upon being released, Jack limped over to his sister who hurriedly stowed away her gun and ran to embrace her twin brother. The two hugged each other tightly and, although Arc couldn’t see Jack’s face, he knew the young man was in immense pain; to his credit, he hid it well.

“Brings a tear to my eye,” said Arc, walking up to the two of them and ruffling their hairs.

“Mine too,” said Julie, pulling away from her brother—much to his relief—and wiping her eyes with her purple t-shirt.

Arc wanted to tell her that he said that in jest, but decided not to spoil the moment. “You’re a crack shot,” he said instead, looking up to the broken glass overhead where he could see the roof walkway. “I thought for sure you’d leave one of them standing and I’d take a bullet or two. And I don’t mean that in a disparaging way, I could have missed just as easily. You’ve got a knack for this.”

“Is that a good thing?” asked Jack.

“If she wants to be able to defend herself, yes,” said Arc. “If she wants to join up with one of the other bandit gangs, no.”

“I can’t say I fancy that,” said Julie, furrowing her brow and making Arc laugh.

“Now that Colt the Splatter is dead,” he said, “what say we round up the last of his minions and see what goodies are hidden around this place? I’d love to buy myself a few new trinkets and give you pair some money to keep yourselves afloat for a while.”

“Sounds good,” said Julie, throwing her arms around the spellslinger’s waist. “Thank you for saving him, Arc.”

“My pleasure, Julie,” he replied, patting her on the shoulder. “Now before we all start weeping like weasels, let’s finish the job.”

Arc led the way through the factory while the two armed teenagers watched the rear and helped him check any side rooms for lurkers. They kept a slow pace to ensure they were quiet, but also to let the pained Jack keep up with them without injuring himself further.

On the third floor, they encountered a sleeping bandit who had stuffed tissues into his ears to block out any noise. Arc thought it was a shame to wake the man who had managed to miss all of the action, but he had an important message that needed spread.

“Wakey wakey,” he said, tapping the bandit on the chest with his revolver.

The man jolted awake, looking around wildly before realising that Arc was pointing a gun at him. The bounty hunter seized him by the t-shirt and hauled him out into the corridor. He took him to the stairwell and held him to the edge of the railing. Jack grabbed the tissues from the man’s ears as Arc smiled at the pleading man, who was begging not to be killed.

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“Be quiet,” said Arc and the man did as he was told. “Your boss is dead, as are most of your crewmates. I’m going to give you one chance to make it out of here alive. I’m not even going to tell you what I want you to do before asking for agreement. If you’re in, nod your head. If you’re not, then we’ll see if you can survive your skull smacking solid concrete after a thirty-foot drop.”

The man nodded furiously while saying nothing.

“Good. My name is Arc the Hawk; you’ve no doubt heard of me by now. You are to go and spread the word to the rest of Colt’s men holed up in other bases, hideouts, outposts and beyond that they’ll be getting no more payments for any work they do. I would also advise each and every one of them, including yourself, to give up the life of banditry because it won’t be long before I show up on their doorsteps and wipe them out. Any who choose to take a more virtuous path and strive for redemption will receive no such visit. Have I made myself clear?”

The man nodded again.

“Good,” said Arc, pulling the bandit back from the edge and shoving him towards the stairs. “Now get to work.”

“But…but my weapons!”

“Grab a car and hope there’s a spare in the glovebox because you’re not coming back inside. What’s your name?”

“Thomas.”

“Thomas, I hope I don’t see you again.”

The man nodded and scurried down the stairs. When he reached the bodies of the two men Arc had shot from above, he howled, before picking up the pace. Arc, Jack and Julie waited and listened to hear if the metal door leading outside slammed. It wasn’t long before they heard it echoing down the corridor and ascending to their ears. Shortly after, there came the distinct sound of a car engine rumbling before it screeched off into the night.

“Are you really coming for each and every one of them?” asked Jack.

Arc shook his head. “Nah, that’s just to scare the pants off them. Unless, of course, they make it to the bigtime and end up with their own bounties. Hopefully my warning will make them cease their wicked ways, renouncing them for a life of farming. Sometimes all you need is the fear of the bogeyman to set you on the straight and narrow.”

“You think many will renounce banditry?”

“No, I don’t,” sighed Arc, “but I’ve done just about everything I can to give them a chance. With Colt dead, they’re a disorganised mess, but there’s a strong likelihood that they’ll join up with a rival gang, claiming that they never liked Colt anyway.”

“You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Sadly, yes, but it’s beyond my reach and resources to take out every single one of them before that happens. The best I can do is spread a message and hope they take it onboard.”

Jack put his hands on the back of his head. “And to think I gave you so much grief on the way to Pembroke,” he said solemnly.

“We’re all good, my friend,” said Arc, going to pat the young man on the back before remembering how bruised Jack was.

The trio continued to search the factory, rummaging through every pack, drawer and cabinet they could find. By the end of it all, they had managed to gather thirty-one ounces of gold, two hundred and twelve ounces of silver, not to mention the wealth of guns and ammo—both usable and sellable—stashed away. The one thing they didn’t find was the one thing Arc truly sought as the spoils of this rescue mission; further spell cartridges. But Arc wasn’t without hope and suspected he knew where some may be.

Before heading outside, he found the main office where a microphone sat hooked up to a bunch of wires. He was confident that there was nobody left in the building, yet he thought it was worth sending out a wide message in case anyone had been moving around at the same time he had been going from room to room and they just so happened to miss him.

“Gentlemen,” he said, pressing the button, “Colt is dead and you will be too if you don’t leave. I’m armed and dangerous with more spells loaded into my caster than you’ve seen your boss use in all the time you’ve known him. You know who I am and you know what I’m capable of. No more warnings.”

With that, he, Jack and Julie headed back through the corridor, down the staircase and out into the night which was slowly fading into morning. They walked around the factory, stepping over the dead body of Jolly Roger—or Jimmy, as was his real name—and to the back of the building where Colt’s pale, broken body lay in a pool of its own blood.

His hands hung limply while his arms were twisted into awkward, unnatural angles. Even his jet-black hair had lost its sheen and rested lifelessly on the concrete in the growing light of the early morning. The bandit’s face was fixed in an expression of terror that Arc prayed continued on into death as his spirit burned in whatever hell awaited him. He resisted the urge to kick the corpse, deeming Colt not worth the wasted energy, and picked up the man’s copper spellslinger.

“A single Arcane Shot,” said Arc, taking a cartridge from the chamber and slotting it into his own gun.

He kneeled down and rifled through Colt’s jacket, finding another three cartridges that made Arc’s face light up.

“Jackpot,” he said, throwing them into the air, catching them one by one and holding them in an open palm.

Jack and Julie looked into Arc’s hand and saw another Arcane Shot, the squiggly rune now familiar to them, along with a green cartridge and a blue cartridge.

“What do the colours mean?” asked Julie.

“Well, my dear,” said Arc, grinning widely. “The green one is an enchantment and the blue one is an alteration. Enchantments can do all sorts of wonderful things to a foe, from charming them to confounding them, but this one will put a target right to sleep.

“And the blue?” asked Jack.

“Getting to it, Mister Impatient,” snapped Arc. “Alteration spells can manipulate reality to a degree. There’s one that can open a locked door, which frankly I think is a waste of money when a good hammer tends to do the trick. There’s even one that you can shoot yourself with and turn your skin to stone.”

“Like the basilisks do?” asked Julie, looking alarmed.

“Nah, you retain all of your movement and it wears off over time. Think of it as body armour that makes you as tough as a golem.”

“What about this one?” asked Jack, pointing at the blue one in Arc’s palm.

“Jack!” scolded Julie. “Will you let him speak?”

“Sorry.”

“This one, my pint-sized friend, will create ropes that bind your mark, bringing them down to the ground and making them easy pickings. A very useful one if you feel like interrogating someone.”

“I had no idea spells cartridges were so versatile,” said Jack, looking impressed.

“We’re just scratching the surface, Jackie Boy,” said Arc, stashing the cartridges away and then twirling Colt’s spellcaster around like a baton. “Is it any wonder that magic is so feared across not only Nuvaria, but all across Maestria?”

“Do you think that’s going to soften anytime soon?”

“Only once I’ve purged the world of evil using these handy little trinkets,” said Arc with a wink.

“That’s a tall order.”

“And a notion I don’t take lightly.”

“Yes, I believe that fully.”

Julie walked over and squatted beside Colt’s body. “What should we do with him?” she asked. “Seems strange to just leave him here.”

“Any stranger than leaving the rest of them?” asked Jack with a frown.

Arc shook his head and scoffed before turning around and starting to walk away. “Let the rat have a final purpose as food for the vultures, coyotes, wolves, or whatever creature sniffs out his rotting remains over the next few days.”

“Farewell, Colt,” said Jack, holding up a hand in a mocking goodbye before spitting on the bandit leader’s corpse.

“Was that necessary?” asked Julie, scowling at her brother before following Arc.

“No, but it makes me feel better about getting my ass kicked over and over by him and his cronies.”

“Don’t fight, you two,” called Arc as he headed straight for one of the pickup trucks. “This should be a happy occasion. We all survived, you two are reunited and we’ve just made some serious coin while ridding the land of some prime cuts of scum.”

“Hoorah!” cheered Jack, throwing a fist to the sky.

“Yay…” said Julie, less enthusiastically while running her hand over the gun sticking out of her belt.

Now that the dust had settled, she had to process the fact that she had killed several people over the last couple of hours. Necessary to rescue her brother as it may have been, she didn’t feel good about it. At the same time, she didn’t want to burden Arc and Jack with her feelings on the matter.

Arc looked over to her and gave her a small nod that she returned. That one small action made it clear to her that he knew what was going through her mind and that she could talk to him about it if she wanted to, but she decided to save it until they all had a chance to rest back in Pembroke.

The trio hopped into the car with Arc sitting in the driver’s seat and the twins cramming themselves into the passenger seat. Julie insisted on taking the window side, wanting to feel the breeze on her face while she watched the world awaken upon the rising of the sun.

“Ready?” asked Arc, turning the key and starting up the engine.

“Ready,” said the twins.

“To Pembroke, we go.”