And here I was. Many stories with unfortunate endings start like this. This just might be one of those. We more/less recruited 2/3 of our current targets. Just one left, Angrok “The Bull” Skulltaker, which is to say yeah “Skulltaker” was really his name. Well, the name of his Clan but such detail meant little of Orcs or Half-Orcs. What made me particularly unhappy was that this was the only recruitment I had to go in alone. Sure Khyon, was somewhere far back with his super-rifle. That did not alleviate my unease about this, neither of our “crew” was particularly...all there...trustworthy, or deserving of living in the first place. But The Bull was a special case, I was going alone because I was the only one who worked with him previously and stayed alive, not for the lack of trying on the part of the enemy or The Bull. Once he goes off, he truly legitimately, doesn't recognize friend from foe until the killing has ended for a good 15-20 minutes, the fact I survived kept me in slightly higher regard in his eyes than anything else that walks. But if the mosquito bites him, the water isn't fresh enough, or the wind blows the way he does not like it, this will be a very short mission. Both Helen and Khyon's Rifle were charged to full stopping fire. Me with Aether bullets, Khyon by fiddling with a rifle security mechanism, and making sure the entire charge is fired at once. Between us, if we hit fully grown Bison at the thickest part of the skull, only the tail would remain and still, I was jumpier and jumpier as I was closing to “The Bulls” camping site. He didn't particularly try to keep it hidden. Heads on spikes began to appear at regular intervals 5 miles back and grew thicker and thicker, the stench was so overpowering that I used Arts to block my sense of smell, not that it would do me much good anyway. I looked at grizzly reminders of just who am I going to meet. He was as always consistent. Not one Race was underrepresented. From frail, Halflings and Gnomes, to average Humans and Elves, over slightly tougher Orcs and Half-Orcs all the way to Minotaurs, Ogres, and at least two Giants. The sound of a Bull about to charge made me stop and place my hand on the Helen “Hákon Firehand.” The voice sounded like something was forcing them out by the great force of will “You come at a bad time.” “There is a good time with you?” I retorted “Gnh!” that was as close as The Bull ever came to a laugh “Guess not. But I haven't killed in a fortnight, my blood is up, and you are the only living thing alive.” Against my better judgment, I slid off the horse “Not for the first time.”

There was a pause, and then, like a ghost, the figure appeared not 6 feet left from me. The Bull earned his nickname. He was the largest Orc or Half-Orc I've ever seen and not only that, he was sculpted as a weapon. Enormous power, married with an inhuman explosive speed. At this distance, there was nothing Khyon or I could do to save me from becoming just another ornament. Just my art of BS. “True. That's why you still live, you deserve to face me. Anyone else would be already dead.” I saw that was true, his arms had involuntary ticks to grab his axes and get done with it, in a way that was a great compliment coming from him. “I see that, but I do suggest you maybe range a bit and find other prey, or you will miss out on what I came to offer.” “Like what?” “I grinned.” “Greatest bloodletting you've ever been part of.” There was a growl “I was part of many great bloodlettings Human.” “Not one like this you haven't.” This was the moment if I piqued his interest to hear more I might walk away with my head, if not...I called upon Aether. The Bull or not, I had no interest in being a lamb for slaughter. Finally, he decided, making fists out of his enormous hands to get involuntary movements under control. “Tell me more.”

An hour later I rode back 4 miles back when another shadow unglued from the nearby rock “Which part of “You have to be within my visual range.” you missed before you entered his hole?” I shrugged “Actually his abode on the inside with one or two changes looks surprisingly like your shop.” There was almost an amusment in Khyons response “What heads are only for the sticks outside?” “Yeah...inside they are on shelves and much more organized.” He looked at me “So my shop?” It was my turn to grin “I did say “One or two changes” didn't I?” Khyon just snorted “What was the second change?” “His game room.” Kyon turned his head toward me and in near complete darkness I almost could see an incredulous look on his face “His what now?” I chuckled and repeated, remembering how it screwed me up when I saw it “Game...Room. How much clearer do I have to be.” “Oh, I think if we went into details we'd be at it still at the Dusk tomorrow. Starting with the fact that he lives in a hole in the ground that he has to crouch or get on his knees to enter. Even you had to lower your head when you entered. Which we still have to talk about by the way.” I spat a piece of grime that stuck on my lower lip while I was in The Bull's abode, at least I hoped it was just grime. “Well about that. I suggest tightening your grip on the saddle, before this. There is actually a 3-story house there, fully furnished. Not counting at least a dozen various tunnels and crawl spaces I didn't ask about. As you so kindly mentioned a few times I was on thin ice as it was.” We rode in complete silence for about five minutes “You are fucking with me.” I snorted “I wish. Even the fully furnished part is true, although some were scavenged, some self-made, and some constructed from things you really don't want to hear about. But for a relatively sane comparison, you saw how he just appeared left of me. I assume that's where one tunnel led, covered with some hay dirt, and gore so you don't look too closely and suddenly a musclebound giant with about a dozen nightmarish blades on his person is so close you could spit on him. If you REALLY didn't value your well-being.”

I saw something like an exasperated wave of the hand “Fine, I think I really don't want too many details just one last thing?” “Sure there is still a shitload to ride until Wellington.” “Wellington? We're not going directly to camp.” “I wouldn't.” There is a short pause “He's following us isn't he?” “Almost certainly, so he knows I usually stay at Wellington when I lay low or plan the next operation, this will hopefully satisfy him, especially if we hit Paddies, he doesn't like crowds if he's not killing them, although I'm almost positive few poor bastards will not be with us tomorrow morning” “You are sacrificing some poor bastards for no reason.” “No reason? Would you prefer to stay on your soapbox and take him to the camp where everyone else is? There are about 4 people in Wellington I care about, I'm willing to spin that wheel. Sidney is harder to kill than one might think, Hanna I'll take for the night, you take Sabrina, Paddy is working as likely as V. As for others I care about about them exactly how much they care about me. Less than to raise an eyebrow when I pass the “Obituary” section in the papers.” “What about Omaha, I know you at least use a kid for free lodging in the stables.” “He's on the cattle drive and won't be back for another week at least.” “Still, you are ok about someone getting butchered because of us.” I actually gave it some thought “O.K. no, but not bothered enough to do something about it. Of course, if YOU care so much there is an alternative. He turned his head so he could observe my face with his fully enhanced vision in the dark.” “Like?” “Like, we stop for the night, as I mentioned there is still a shit load of riding to be done yet. Raising a camp to continue tomorrow fresh would not be suspicious. Of course, he told me he did not off anyone in a fortnight, for him killing is a need as big as eating and sleeping for us...well maybe not sleeping for you but you get my drift.”

“How high are our chances of ending up like a carpet in his love shack or whatever you saw?” “About 70%.” He actually twitched this time “Why so high?” “Because of the game room.” “What about the damn gaming room? You've been dancing around it since we returned.” I rubbed my stubble thinking “I don't think so, just every time we got close you had another stupid question or wanted something clarified, so we just never got to it.” “O.K. whatever, what is so gruesome that spooked you so much.” “Actually kinda mundanity of it all, it was the best-furnished room in the house. The tables and chairs were almost new, I don't think it was scavenged he was choosing prized pieces, slaughtering everyone, and leaving with just the table and the chips.” I heard Khyon take a breath between his teeth, he was exerting himself to catch a trace of The Bull anywhere around us. “And the players?” “Well the heads, duh. Each of them with nice thigh bone in front of it with the date of the kill and the age of the victim. But for some, it was not necessary.” “Because?” “As he explained it, those were worthy kills, opponents he respected so he preserved them.” “What?” “Yup. There is an entire warehouse of them so he switches them around, and talks with them when they play like they are alive. He taxidermied them and did a damn fine job for the last 6 or so years. I recognized about 3-4 in the warehouse but it was too dark there, once in the Game Room I recognized at least about 10. Glazer twins, George The Dart, that old ass Marshal that almost got me near Columbus?” “George “Ceasar” Davis? Everyone thought he vanished somewhere in Canada.” “He kinda did, he did him in at the Lake Winnipeg, Rattlesnake Ramirez, he tracked him all the way to Acapulco...” I was myself to blame there, I could've just quit but part of me thought Khyon deserved to know no matter how bad it was for the mission “What are you not telling?” “I'm sorry Khyon, Humans were not the only “players” in the room.” Words left hanging heavier than any piece of equipment on me. I was trying to phrase it as best as I could but Khyon just cut into it “Del'Vane?” I did not nod just added “And As'ra too. On the same day.” DelVane was Khyons older brother and As'Ra his twin sister. I heard teeth grinding and the smell of ozone. Will power it needed not just to turn to dust everything in a half-mile radius is something I could only hope to achieve, both in just keeping emotions in check and then just doing it without cheating like I did with Aether Clockwork. I waited because even in his current emotional state I knew that the rational part of his brain worked behind it all like a clockwork. It took 5 minutes, and while his voice straightened he said “That does not explain 70%.” “Not alone, “players” are arranged in tables like dioramas, some completed likely making sense only to him. Some are pretty simple. Those not finished are usually the easiest to connect the dots. Del'Vane and As'Ra are on the only Blackjack table he has. Also, it has two Reserved places, one for the Player and one Reserved place for the Dealer. Your name is on a player reservation, mine is on dealer one.” “So his bloodlust is up and both of us pieces to finish his messed up diorama.” “Yup, under circumstances 70% is lowballing it.”

There were several minutes of silence before I said “Yeah, I know.” “I didn't say a thing.” “You're thinking that we're full of Ather, you have your rifle and I have 18 Pure Aether bullets for Helen, 3 loads...” “Clips.” “Yeah whatever, clips of poisoned darts for Drow Hand Crossbow. We can take him.” There was a pause “So, what if I was.” “Two of us can't take him, I doubt even with two other psychos and Red on top we could not win.” Khyon looks at me, residual Aether making his eyes glow with a light blue light “He can't be that good, few people could withstand that kind of assault.” I sighed, this might be hard to explain “He's VERY good, but you are right not THAT good, the thing is his “VERY good” is mixed with another 50% of “VERY hard to kill”. And I mean almost impossible. How do you think he took out that amount of top-notch fighters and Arts users, Del'Vane was better than you in arts and better than me with not only a revolver but with ANY weapon.” Khyon nearly snarled “And what? I have to play nice while the bastard who killed my family runs around slaughtering merrily.” This time I snapped “Fuck that. The shitstain has to die! You know how I felt about As'Ra, why else I would make nice with your corpo/spy/covert cop ass as a fucking wanted criminal!” This calmed him down a bit and even drew a bit of a stifled chuckle at my description of him when we met. “O.K. let's hear the master assassin, whose martial disciplines are: bar brawling, shooting a lot of bullets into stuff, chopping stuff until it doesn't have any more visible stuff to cut off, and if all that fails burn it with fire.” “While very accurate you forgot one important thing, actually most important.” “That being” “All said and the fact that I still am the only one who returned alive and relatively unharmed with the job done with The Bull.” “I know how to kill him and it's not that hard. All you have to be a hateful unscrupulous bastard.” “Well you have that on lock, keep going.” “The thing that no one alive knows, except me that is, most likely not even The Bull himself is that he's an Arts user.” “...What?” “I think that's one of the things that made him insane to start with.”

“Maybe you should start from the start for us slow little boys and girls.” I saw lights of Wellington in the distance “Well, at this pace we have a time for the story. It all started with that job I did with him, well we did. There were 5 of us beside him since we all knew about that “Kill-All That Moves” stuff and figured 5 competent Arts users should have no issue with a Barbarian with a few hundred extra muscles.” “It was a train job right?” “Just two cars actually. The railroad was transferring their earning for those 3 months, Glowing Hunt swore that there was 250k in the last car over 40k per person if we all survived. Unfortunately, the last car was basically a steel box welded on the car before it. Car with 20 Pinkerton finest armed to the teeth. Well plan was simple The Bull rushes in soaking some of the damage, likely butchering some of Pinks in the process giving us space to take up positions and unload on them. Nothing sofisticated. So we had The Bull hides in the cattle wagon, no pun intended, and the rest of us bought tickets and watched the scenery. At one point the train had to go over the pretty steep hill. The idea was to disconnect the last two wagons near the peak so that when they started picking up speed downhill again they wouldn't immediately notice they were a bit lighter. Worked like a charm. Near the hill one by one move from our seats and make our way to the cattle wagon. The final team member arrived minutes before Go time. Right at the top of the hill, The Bull did a very sophisticated thing and instead of uncoupling the wagon just grabbed The chain and ripped it all off, he apparently had some very creative ideas for the part that looked like a hook. Signs were shoving that he began to lose it and we kind of pointed him toward the doors just as he managed to rip the latch part and leave a proper hook with some 3 feet of the chain, He pushed his three meaty fingers through the chain and in second hand he drew some godamn' claw thing. Like four knife blades welded on the knuckle duster. All of that took maybe 5 seconds I doubt Pinkertons even noticed they slowed even more and started to stop when, what we thought was a garden-variety lunatic, slammed his boot into solid iron doors, and while doors did what Railroad paid for and just buckled for about foot and a half everything around the doors and hinges just exploded and flew forward. I doubt the first several lucky bastards even knew they died. Just blinked at one moment and was meeting St. Peter next, several next wasn't so lucky, doors just ground them like, up to half, and left them howling.”

“Not for long since The Bull already rushed in whirling hook in one hand and that claw in another. As far as we were concerned things were going swimmingly. There was enough cover among remains as long as you weren't too squeamish.

The howling of the first set stopped as The Bull just crunched them under his feet, my rough approximation is that around 8 Pinks were already dead. When the remainder opened fire. I took a pretty nice shot with a Lightning bullet that fried brain pans of two that were next to each other Leaving only two there hidden by The Bull's bulk. Glowing Hunt ripped souls out of two in the back row. The fight started not 10 seconds ago and we were already nearly even in numbers, with only The Bull catching a few grazes. That was bound to change, one of Pinkertons right in front of The Bull emptied both barrels of his stagecoach shotgun, I think from that distance its barrels were right under The Bull's chin. Everything above his jaw went into slurry pink mist, if there was some bone, it was lodged with the rest of the pellets into the roof. Honestly, at that moment I thought “Well two birds with one stone”. Lunatic is gone and the remaining share is now nice and round 50k each. I cocked my revolver and waited for The Bull to hit the ground so I can take out his killer and the dude next to him with my second Lightning round. Then I tended to load in pairs, 2 Lightnings to thin the herd, 2 Fires to make them panic about burning alive and start running, and last 2 Pure Aether for stubborn holdouts. But Barbarian did not fall, without missing a beat, like not even realizing he was nearly decapitated slammed that claw under the chin of the guy who decapitated him and lifted him up nailing his head to the roof and at the same time completely obliterating the head of the Pink next to him with the hook. I was still operating under the delusion that this was some prolonged death spasm. But our side stopped firing and watched, the remaining Pinkertones also seemingly forgot us completely pouring everything into The Bull. Then I saw it. His head. It was translucent and purple but it was his head without question, at the same time flesh and bone around the remains of his jaw began to quiver and reconstitute in real-time, in seconds. He wrenched the claw out and again hooked the closest guy through the top of the head his yanking opened his skull as a watermelon. Some Pinkertons tried to reload, one was a blubbering mess, crying and praying, to God or the murdering brute I have no idea. If there were any more alive I didn't see them. The Bull lept to their last position and I just saw a splash of blood, like someone crushed a bunch of red paint under something heavy.”

“Frankly, we had no idea what to do, just stood there neither shooting nor approaching. Until a figure painted red stood up and looked toward us Glowing Hunt figured it out a second before, and the hook and purple Soulripper Bolt flew by each other roughly at the halfway point. Now, Glowing Hunt was learning how to hunt Cougars armed only with a flint knife before some of us took our first shot, he wouldn't be caught by a flying piece of metal from that distance, he twisted and the hook missed him by about an inch, unfortunately, Iron Nell still did not unfreeze and it struck her right into steel plating she had on the right of the forehead, it went in deep and threw her out of the car. I also released the shot into his freshly reconstituted eye. The Glowing Hunt's bolt went straight through his chest and my bullet fried a good portion of his upper head blinding him in the process. Well, in theory. In practice, when he looked at us I saw the purple translucent heart beating where the real one was. and purple eyes watching from the fried holes my bullet left. The remaining of us finally moved Crazy Bill began peppering him with a shotgun fire shells, it looked like a rain of fire and I added two of mine Sal tried to conjure Aether chains to bind him and Glowing Hunt started making Glyph that would rip his soul out. Maybe that would do it, maybe that was what that purple thing inside him was, but that was all theoretical. Because in the real world, he snapped chains and burning from head to toe jumped at us with that one claw, and drew one of his meat cleavers. As mentioned I thought Glowing Hunt had the most chance so I tried to buy him some time. Shooting both of Bull's knees out with pure Aether bullets, bone, and cartilage vanished. There was nothing. Nothing physical holding his upper stumps with the remains of his calves. Nothing except that purple facsimile. It was quite enough though, reaching and severing Glowing Hunt's head at the jaw level in one bound, then going for me with the claw. I jumped back but a fair part still bit me.” After a long time in silence, Khyon said “Those four scars on your chest that look like a bear got you?” I nodded

“Anyway what I think no one of us noticed in all of this bloodbath, is that gravity took the car again and now it was moving it back at a decent speed.”

“My jump back threw me out of the car and left me bouncing down after it, cracking a few of my ribs on the rails but fortunately third or fourth bounce threw me to the side into a pretty tall grass so I more/less just rolled down some 20 more feet. I was lying on my back trying to remember whose idea was to work with The Bull in the first place so I could crawl back to the car and kill them again. When a loud crash cleared my haze. I lifted my head and saw... Oh, joy! The car also tumbled off the tracks and was lying on the side. I checked for Helen and wondrously my pretty was still in my hand. Empty, but undamaged. Unfortunately, my pouch with enchanted bullets was somewhere uphill and certainly spilled, what's more, I wasn't climbing. I somehow clambered to my feet and dragged myself down and looky first damn thing I see is Half-Ork ass on his feet holding bisected Sal's corpse, his back was turned to me, so I could still slip away, but there were 250k reasons not to do that, and I liked working with Glowing Hunt, dependable, fair fellow. Natives usually are if you treat them fairly, so there might be some vengeance involved in my next actions. Besides I noticed something, the large cut he likely earned in the crush wasn't healing or glowing purple. It seemed he was out of juice, and I was not. I didn't have strength or concentration for something fancy, every inch of my body was in pain. So I stepped at steel rails to avoid pebbles and got to some 20 ft all the while draining what power I could muster into double-hand Aether Ball, and cracked him in the back of the skull with it. It still wasn't enough to kill the bastard, I looked around for something suitable, but I demolished concrete walls with Aether Ball, adding to it with a flick with a piece of wood certainly wouldn't help. I made my way to the money car and sat next to it. Placing plam against it I slide the last tendrils of my Aether into the lock mechanism, it took god awful 15 minutes but the doors finally clicked. “You did it?” I looked to my right and shitface was sitting and looking at me for god knows how long. “I did, but I can't open this door on my own, so get your musclebound ass over here, do your part, and give me my money.” We both lifted to our feet. He growled, “You knock me out.” I considered removing my seal, but fuck knows what that would do, maybe melt us both, or gods forbid burn the money making this entire exercise truly pointless. Instead, I moved my shirt “And you kissed me for goodnight”, I said showing the scars his claw made. He considered it for a second “Then we're even this time, but I'll add your head to my collection...in time.” “Nice hobby, I might start with yours too.” I talked a lot of shit but he probably could've snapped my neck then. He opened the doors. There were 5 bags of 50k, he threw me two, I likely wasn't capable of carrying more anyway and 100k was more than I hoped for in the first place. That's the story.”

Khyon looked at me “Ok I get how it ties into the revenge angle, you will use enemy forces to hopefully drain his juice...” I nodded “Them and I might slip Amsel something extra if he gets on the action, he's a greedy fuck.” “Or he rats you out and you get your head chopped off before we reach New Orleans.” I shook my head “Mr. Amsel earned himself one of the first reservations in the Game Room. He'd likely pay me to make it go away. Two assholes with one stone” “Ok, aside from your absolute steadfastness about killing Amsel even if he helps you, how did you get “The Bull” to agree to it.” Wellington was close enough that I was able to see his face and I was not going to miss this. “Oh it was simple, I just basically told him everything, including planning to kill him part. He's game” First time in my life I saw Elf lose control of his facial features to that point. His jaw dropped and his eyes grew twice as big, and even in the dark, I saw he's become ashen color. “You did what!!”