“What in Logo’s Hells is this!? Explain yourself!” The grinning Ghast demanded as he stepped from the long ladder towards his colleague at the end of the arrival-plateau. Logan’s gun remained high, trained on the wall - still admiring his well-placed shot on the rope.
“I’d heard there was another Ghast in town.” Was all Logan said as he lowered his gun calmly and demanded: “Stop your mind-powers. They’re in pain.” His voiced cooled to a chill - one that made Zeke’s tail cling to his back legs.
“That is the point! Explanation! Now!” The Ghast continued to demand as he stomped forward. The congregation gasped as Logan raised the gun again - this time training it on the Ghast’s white mask. “First, you let them go. You are attacking my conscripts and, by extension, me. I’m in the right to blow your head off.” The Ghast froze and sounded his disbelief with a protesting utterance of an “umph”. He made a point of tarrying before raising his hand, finally releasing the congregation and the boys writing with agony atop the wall.
Logan kept the gun trained on the Ghast’s mask as he continued: “This woman is my partner and lover. She is distilling alcohol for refilling my accelerants - she has been my line in this region for years. Thank you for informing the entire town of our business, I’ll be sure to repay it.” None seemed as perplexed by that information as Ethel herself, but none could see it for her bruised face.
“Secondly, the farms are out of commission between sun-up and sun-down tomorrow. I’m making repairs to boost efficiency.” He was short and to the point, ignoring the building crowd behind the Ghast. With any luck, they were well aware of his destructive capabilities, even if they outnumbered him. A thousand to one meant little to one of their ranks - not without arms nor skills. It seemed, by the respectable distance the furious masses held, that they were informed.
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The Ghast seemed to consider his position and how he could save as much face as possible and it seemed aggression was his go-to choice of action. He raised an accusing finger to his colleague and shouted: “Who do you think you are? Ghast or not, the efficiency of this town is my business - the Citadel has sent me to deal with this situation!” It was as if Logan had expected it. A verbal trap for the man to stumble blindly into.
“The repairs I’m making are to compensate for the lack of electricity. If you’re looking for a place to start, I suggest examining the power-station.” Logan’s hand loosened his grip on the gun and the mechanisms inside his right sleeve caught it - sliding it back up against his arm, out of view.
Before he turned around, Logan shouted: “Everyone, return to your homes. Try to have a pleasant evening, despite the cruelties.”
The Ghast was left standing there as the crowd dispersed around him, shouting countermands to Logan’s orders, only to have them fall on deaf ears. He was predictable, so very predictable. In an effort to display his power and earn the people’s obedience, he had far overspent his abilities - controlling a mass of hundreds of people, only to have his trial thwarted by a stranger - a brother, no less.
Logan grabbed a gentle hold of the strange woman’s arm and began to lead her down the stair, quickly followed by the large, red hound. Her mouth hung agape, still trying to process what had cut the rope around her neck.
“I’ll need to sleep in your house tonight. Just in case he decides to check our alibi.” Logan muttered beneath his breath. Observing her limp, he decided to drive the point home by raising her up in his arms and began the journey down the long steps, chuckling as he heard her bold statement: “Stranger, if you really wanna fuck me, I’ll make it the best damn night of your life.”