Thin form crumbled into the fetal position, blood slowly pooling underneath his head. Without pause the Gunslinger leaps over the obstructing polymer barrier, carefully kneeling as he attempts to diagnose the wounded.

No visible injury on initial inspection; bruising and broken bones shattered internally rather than with outside force. Evidence of immense focus and will from the Mage herself, the ability to bring the living to the brink of death exposed from with single motion of arrogance.

From across the room the door swings open again, heavy breathing and light footsteps interrupted as the Gunslinger stands and draws his weapon towards it.

The familiar form of the doctor in training stands before them, Daniel almost falling back in surprise as Alto points his revolver directly at him. Raising both his hands defensively, Daniel attempts to catch his breath. “T-They’re back Alto. The Bandits are…”

“Old Joe is hurt.” The Gunslinger speaks coldly as he reholsters his weapon. “The Mage came and injured him. I need your help right now.”

Surprise, shock, and confusion arrives, The doctor-in-training quickly jogging over to the bar. “What?! Oh Savior below.”

Quickly kneeling down the young man runs his hands through his hair as pure academic knowledge fails him. Unconsciousness without trauma, injuries without evidence; undiagnosable without tools or trade. “What happened?!”

“Old Joe attempted to shoot her.” Alto informs calmly.

“And she didn’t just kill him?!”

The Gunslinger gives a glance of ignorance.

Daniel attempts to take a deep breath, panic setting in slowly. “Alto get my grandmother. NOW!”

Cold darkness envelops conscious thought. In the borderlands of lifelessness the soul takes a moment to consider its position in the world, of the past month of existence. A life lived in but a single town, aging eyes watching the decay of livelihoods in the passing decades. Something grabs it, pulling it back from the brink.

Unconsciousness bleeds into pain, old bones burning as the man flutters awake. Bound by bandages and viscous suffering the mind barely etches out comprehension. A duet of lights hanging above him, familiar sights of his own bar.

“See I told ya he’s fine.” The old tone of Doctor Omen speaks up. “Just don’t panic Daniel and everything will be alright.”

“Gods above Ma.” The younger voice exasperates. “He almost bled out!”

“W-wh…” Old Joe begins speaking, interrupted by the Doctor.

Clapping her hands in proud disappointment, the Old Woman scoffs dismissively. “Well Joe you’ve got five cracked ribs, internal bruising and a hemorrhage inside your lungs. Could’a gotten yourself killed by that bitch.”

The man attempts to rise from the floor, pain piercing through his upper abdomen as internal structure remains rigid through injected matter. A quiet whimper as he almost passes out, Old Joe falls onto his back again.

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“And your new friend here fixed you up with those magical bandages of his.” Doctor Omen adds as she stands up. “So don’t compress your ribs until those bone gel needles dissolve.”

“I-I’m not complaining.” Old Joe grunts as he coughs a small spray of dried blood. “Damned…”

“Get him up, I don't want him to choke.” The Doctor orders her grandson.

“Wait wait ho…”

Wrapping his arms around the weakened old man Daniel snaps him onto his feet with a single motion. Hard, half-dissolved needles tearing through flesh, nerves literally pulled aside as a scream of suffering sounding across the bar.

Old Joe ventelates in pain, turning with an angry face to both Doctor and Trainee. “You two…”

“You’re welcome.” Doctor Omen interrupts as she ignites another puff, bringing the plasteel cylinder to her mouth. “But you should be thanking your gun toting friend over there.”

Turning, the Old Man immediately finds the Gunslinger behind the bar. Ancient double-barreled shotgun in curious hands, inspection complete as his eyes meet. Speaking up, the young voice holds absolute conviction in execution. “That was stupid.”

Remaining quiet Old Joe attempts to lean onto the flat table, pain arriving in echoes through his entire body. “I-I thought I could catch her off guard while she was talking to you. Guess… guess that didn’t turn out well.”

“A collective combat mage will have reactionary shielding augments.” The Gunslinger informs. “And even so, you would’ve needed a much bigger caliber to pierce her skin.”

“How big?” Old Joe asks with morbid curiosity.

“Heavy caliber, if you’re only shooting her directly.” The Gunslinger answers without pause. “Even the Judges always bring special grenades when they go into the Borderlands.”

A smidge of movement sends pain across his body again, the old man gripping his chest. Breath recaptured, he stares at the worried eyes of the surrounding tenders. “So what now?”

“Well we have to take her down, or else she’s gonna kill you Alto.” The Doctor-in-Training speaks up at the words, noting the young man’s holstered weapon. “.357 magnum big enough?”

“For a mage who can react? No, it isn’t enough.” The reply comes instantly.

“Wait then how the hell did you manage to kill an Auditor?!” Old Joe raises his voice, then cringes as a needle brushes a broken rib within his abdomen. “Gods damn…”

Doctor Omen rolls her eyes. “Just shut up Joey and let’em dissolve.”

The Gunslinger stops as memories flow.

Within the streets of a distant land the burning rage of the Five burns against the mortal flesh. A single form stands against him, divinity explicit in the creation of the girl. An audience with the chosen of a far flung nation, life ended with a single bullet.

With quiet words the young man speaks. “She… it's a bad story.”

Daniel steps back from the sensitive topic, focusing on the question at hand. “Look, the biggest problem then is that magical shield. Once that’s down it’s all just about shooting her. Before of course, she decides to tear you apart.”

Old Joe coughs. “Can you say it in actual language please?”

Daniel blinks as he reformulates his words. “Let’s say there’s a thin layer of arcane energy surrounding a mage that acts like armor, it stops bullets if they get too close. As demonstrated, if she knows you’re coming then you’re already dead.”

“So how do we bring that shield down?” Old Joe asks from the floor.

“You can’t.” Doctor Omen chuckles as she puffs out a breath of smoke.

“No, it’s possible.” Daniel corrects. “Well… it’s more improbable. That Advisor of mine said it took a tank cannon to take a mage down, so I suppose as Alto said all we need is a big enough gun to shoot her with.”

His grandmother cackles as she hears his words. “And where do you suppose we get a gun that big? The Feds radio’d that they were sending help two weeks ago, and even if they do finally show up now they ain’t bringing a tank with them. Forget it, with what we have in this town nobody’s going to be able to kill her.”

A minute of thought, planning for eventualities that dead end in lethal consequence. The killing of Demi-gods with nothing more than slugs of metal an impossibility for the decrepit village.