Chapter 23– Right Through the Front Door

July 3rd, 1862

Dodge, KS

Wild Card Cass

"I want to see my sons, FreeLander!"

"YOU CAN'T SEE YOUR SONS!" his eyes mutated red.

Wild Card stumbled back in the office. He pulled his gun out, "I'll kill you."

FreeLander stood up from behind his long, polished redwood desk, something was wrong with him. His body was misshapen."Do that… and your boys...are as dead as your wife."

Wild Card dropped his gun-wielding arm. He did not know. How could he? He had not returned home since he departed on his journey. But without a doubt did he believe him. Wild Card raised his arm back up in a rage and pulled the trigger. The bullet cut FreeLander's face. Blood spilled onto the desk as he grabbed his wounded cheek.

FreeLander looked back up at Wild Card and smiled. The blood dissolved the wood of the desk. Wild Card Cass froze. This was no man before him. He reached up into the bloody gash. He shoved his hand under his skin and pulled it clean off his face. The blood, muscle, and cartilage underneath shifted and came together. It scabbed over leather-red and settled as new skin. Wild Card Cass was frightened beyond the capacity to move. FreeLander screamed as he finished transforming into his true form. Fangs stretched out of his mouth as two horns emerged from his forehead. His eyes changed from red to yellow, his irises remaining pure black.

"What are you?" Wild Card managed to mutter.

The beast behind the desk ripped out of the expensive suit, almost doubling in size as it bellowed out.

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"EGO SUM DIABOLUS."

August 10, 1865

Dodge, KS

Ira walked through the door followed by Marshall and Peyton. Nothing would stop him from chasing down the man who killed his brother. Will’s body still lay fresh outside. No time to mourn. No time to grieve. Only vengeance.

Wild Card followed behind them. The bar was crowded. Even though it was early morning, these wasted gamblers and gunslingers, crooks and cowboys, thieves, and villains, were still out getting drunk and going wild. The Inferno seemed to keep it all in the confines of the bar. Any of these men could be Black Pawnee. In fact, most of them were Black Pawnee. Peyton and Cass above all could tell this. Marshall looked at Ira, and Ira looked over at Peyton. They were exactly where they needed to be, in the eye of the storm.

Peyton turned from Marshall and Ira and had a look around the bar. They had breached the heart of the enemy. Ira knew soon they would be found by those who know their faces, and then lose the element of surprise. 10 Crows had to be here somewhere. Slaughterhouse Slater and Steel Coat Kildare wouldn't be too far either.

"This way," Wild Card insisted.

He led them into the back rooms of the bar. They walked through two dark rooms where men were getting private dances from harlots and passed into the kitchen. After the kitchen, they walked down a flight of stairs into an empty bar. The bar itself was a shiny transparent metal with dark redwood underneath it, lit by mirrors and torches all along the walls. The door was locked behind them. Peyton heard it lock, along with Ira. "This doesn't feel right." Once Ira drew his pistol, Marshall raised the Winchester up. "It's a trap!"

There was only one other door in the barroom, and it popped open. Black Pawnee after Black Pawnee came running into the room wearing black buffalo skin and face paint, wielding revolvers, and machetes. Marshall turned around, Wild Card was gone. He had betrayed them all and if anyone should have seen it coming it was Marshall.

Two Pawnee rushed Marshall. They were too close to fire the rifle. Instead, he knocked one off his feet and slit the other one's throat as he unsheathed his buck knife. He re-sheathed the knife and pulled out his pistol, gunning down two more Pawnee flanking Ira. Meanwhile, Ira had pulled out his other revolver and shot with both hands, reminiscent of Kid Colt, shooting enemy after enemy dead with one shot.

Peyton battled two Pawnee unarmed. He wrestled with their guns and threw them to the ground, grabbing a hold of neck after neck, and snapping. He picked up the two fully loaded guns. The remaining Black Pawnee they finished off together, standing in a line of three, firing off all the rounds in their revolvers. The last body hit the floor; and the door opened again, releasing more renegade outlaws into the room. The torches blew out and the room went dark.