The man with no name examined the door in front of him. His quarry was inside. He thought about going after someone else and coming back. He set his face. This was the last name in the city. He wasn’t going after someone else when his prey was just on the other side of this door.
He was going inside and dealing with this. Then he would leave the city.
He examined the door. Two massive hinges looked too big to smash through. He didn’t see a knob, or a handle. That meant there was a handle on the inside, maybe a locking bar. He took a moment to make sure no one was looking at him through the charred slot before looking at the opening side of the door.
He could faintly see what looked like a shadow at the edge of the door. He stood back and pointed the pistol at it. Flame blasted at the bar until it flew away. He shouldered the door open enough to get inside the bunker.
The man he had shot in the face lay in the way, but he was inside. He closed the door and moved the body in front of it to be a hindrance to anyone else who wanted to get inside.
He decided to check the next room before he rushed in. He was in a foyer for people checking in. There was no telling how many people would be waiting for him if they heard the noise he made breaking in.
The dead man peered around the edge of the door. No one seemed scared. They must not have heard him over the noise generated by the gambling tables, and the crowd surrounding a pit on the other side of the room.
He moved into the room, seraph covering his guns as he walked. He didn’t need to kill all these people. He didn’t need to kill Rennings if he could get his warrant card in his hand.
A few of the staff looked at him. He didn’t fit in with the rest of the mob. They were concerned with the gambling and drinking. He moved through the room, eyes on the people around him. A pit boss waved to one of the security men to deal with this problem.
The dead man wondered what they thought they were going to do. He didn’t see any weapons. Security might be holding artifacts, or special abilities.
Did he really want to kill this whole crowd just to get to one man?
He decided the best thing to do was meet the security man coming right at him and ask for Rennings. Maybe there was a chance to nip things in the bud before they get out of control.
He didn’t need open warfare with the city’s elite. That might hamper the rest of his searches.
“I’m looking for Rennings,” the dead man said. He had to raise his voice to be heard. “Have you seen him?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to ask for him somewhere else,” said the guard. “We can’t have riffraff wandering around in the gambling hall.”
“Do you have any water magic?,” asked the dead man. He looked around the room. How many would he have to kill to get to Rennings?
“I don’t understand,” said the security guard.
Two guns came up. One pointed at the elaborate bar full of alcohol through the crowd. The other at the nearest gambling table. Roars of fire sent a hundred bottles up in a jet of blue flame, and punched a hole through the table, scattering the money on it. People started scrambling away from the fires.
“Rennings,” demanded the dead man. “Then I want you to get these people out of here.”
“He’s upstairs in the private rooms,” said the guard. He looked around at the chaos.
“Go ahead,” said the dead man. He gestured with his pistol. “Don’t get in my way.”
The security guard started waving at people to head for the front door. He gestured for other security to start getting people out the exits.
The dead man headed for the only staircase he could see in the middle of the
gambling hall. He doubted the guards would let him by at the top. They were
completely safe from a fire. It would take a lot to burn the building down around them.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to serve his warrant and move on.
Guards not directing people out of the way started to converge on him. He reached the staircase before they did. He frowned at the stone and glass construction of the thing. There was no way he could break it down behind him as he climbed.
He needed to get up the steps, break through the door he saw up there, and search the private rooms until he found Rennings. Killing the guards might have to be done if they got in his way.
He decided to start with the door to see how tough it was.
The dead man charged up the stairs. He fired both pistols into the door as he went. He hit the lockbar, and blasted it out of the way. Then he hit the door itself with his shoulder. Security waited on him at a distance from the door.
That was a mistake on their part.
They were armed with swords and knives. One man had a crossbow capable of shooting through armor from the looks of it. Most of the weapons were at short range, and depended on quickness to close the gap to where he came into the short hall leading to the private rooms.
His pistols had a better range and his reflexes were faster. As soon as they saw him, they had to close. As soon as he saw them, he started sending lances of screaming fire into their ranks. He made sure to shoot the crossbowman first before the guard could send a bolt at him.
He passed through the foyer area in a stench of sulphur, and screams of pain. He still had eight rooms to check before his job was done. He supposed most of the doors would be locked against people like him.
They wouldn’t be locked for long.
He used his pistols on the door locks. They weren’t made of the same stuff as the outer doors. One shot and a kick opened the door for him. The people inside weren’t happy with his interruption of their games.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Some of them were less pleased at the bolt of flame he put into them before moving on.
Survivors he gestured to the door. He didn’t need to kill them, and they were a distraction to the guards mounting the steps.
He found his quarry in room number six. The room was full of a haze from a weed burning in a brazier. The smell would kill a normal human being. Rennings sat on the middle of the bed, breathing the smoke in. His eyes glowed green to match the smoke. Parts of his skin seemed crusted by whatever he was doing.
“Rennings?,” asked the dead man. He pulled out the glowing warrant card. “I have a paper to serve you.”
“That’s exceptional of you,” said Rennings. He took a hit from the haze. “I don’t accept your paper. I think you should leave now.”
“You don’t get a choice,” said the dead man. He tossed the card at the other man. It seemed easier than just blasting in the smoke.
“I don’t want your card!”, screamed Rennings.
The haze collected into a fist of rage that flung the card back at the dead man. He turned to let it go by instead of trying to catch it. The blue card embedded into the wall with a twang of vibration.
“This is my alone time!,” shouted Rennings. “You are ruining it for me!”
The dead man fired his pistols into the room. The haze took the shots, burning away as it redirected the blasts around the room. It started flowing out into the hall. Tendrils of the stuff reached for the man with no name.
He backed up, trying to think of a solution to the problem. Charging into the mist seemed to be more dangerous than not. He couldn’t get a shot in if it blocked his shots. He needed to separate the man from his protector.
He didn’t see a way to do that.
The dead man retreated from the haze. It filled the hall, reaching out for him. He needed to get around it somehow so he could reach his target.
He stepped into number four. A woman was tied to the bed. Her paramour had suffered an amputation of an arm. The hand still held a cutting instrument in it. He looked at the tray of instruments. He frowned at the variety of blades on display.
He grabbed one of the blades and cut the woman loose with two swipes. He frowned at the sharpness of it.
“Better run while you still can,” said the dead man. He indicated the door with a thumb.
“That smoke?,” said the woman.
“Turn right and head for the door,” said the dead man. “Security should let you pass so they can come up and deal with me.”
She nodded. She grabbed the dead man’s coat and personal belongings before she ran for the door. She pulled on the coat as she tried to get out of the smoke from Rennings.
The dead man hoped the inner walls weren’t as tough as the outer ones. Otherwise, this could be a short plan ending in a failure.
He fired into the wall separating number four from number six. He punched a hole in the separating walls in a few seconds. He kept blasting to keep the haze focused on blocking the hellfire from hitting.
He charged into the haze, holding his breath. He had no desire to have the drug in his body. He knew that was what it was, and Rennings was using it to boost his natural ability.
He had the knife in his hand along with the spare gun he was shooting. The flames from his pistols circled the room without hitting anything before they blew out.
He counted himself lucky the blasts couldn’t be redirected at him as moved into the room.
Rennings screamed at him. He didn’t listen. His eyes were on one thing. He wanted the brazier. Once he had that, he could put a stop to some of this mess.
Something grabbed him around the neck. He knew it was the haze coming to life to stop him. Rennings had that much control.
He had to get free long enough to put the rest of his sketchy plan into operation. He had to hurt Rennings long enough to break his concentration.
Luckily he had a knife in hand.
The dead man dropped the pistol, but kept his grip on the knife. He took aim with the knife in hand, holding it to his ear. He threw the knife through the haze to the other side of the room. Rennings screamed in pain from the throw.
The haze dropped the dead man to the floor. He rushed to the brazier and tipped it over. He stamped out the fire in a few seconds.
The haze started thinning out with its cause extinguished.
Rennings blinked in confusion. The knife stuck out of his torso. He looked down at it. He rubbed his face with his hands.
“I have something for you,” said the dead man.
Rennings looked up. Flame filled his vision for a brief second. Then he was falling to the underworld to work off his punishment.
The dead man pulled the knife out of his dead victim. He needed a sheath for it. He grabbed his other pistol and holstered it before going back to room number four. He went back to the tray and frowned. No sheathes were in evidence.
He found caps. He took one and covered the blade of his improvised weapon. He put it in his pants pocket in case he needed it.
You never knew when you had to cut someone.
The dead man crossed into the hall. The haze had spread out, thinning to nothing in places. It didn’t have the malevolent presence it had undertaken under Rennings.
He moved down the hall to the steps. He doubted security was going to let him walk away. No one liked a total stranger wrecking their place and leaving. He readied himself to kill as many as he had to before they took him.
He glanced out in the gambling hall. Most of the people had cleared out. Workers had formed bucket brigades to put out the fires he had started. A line of archers formed up behind cover at the base of the stairs to stop him from fighting through.
He saw a way out if he didn’t mind getting hurt.
The dead man moved to the railing of the staircase and vaulted it. He dropped to the floor and turned to face the barricade. He sent streams of flames at the barrier as he jogged to the door. He didn’t try to hit anyone, but knew it was inevitable that someone would step in front of one of his shots and have a hole punched through them. Arrows answered his charge, but the archers had wisely decided to rotate around the staircase so he couldn’t come at their flank.
That wasn’t his goal. Pretending to flank his enemy meant he had an open shot at the door and escape from the gambling hall. He reached the foyer, turned and fired a wall of streamers to keep everyone’s heads down.
Someone had moved the headless body from in front of the door. He pulled the door open, using it as a shield. No one was on the street. He stepped outside.
Where was Stupid?
He spotted his horse standing beside the woman he had freed from room number four. He didn’t have time to figure out what was going on. He put his pistols away and jogged over to his horse.
“What do you want?,” the dead man asked.
“I need to leave the city,” said the woman. “I’m in trouble.”
The dead man considered what she was asking. He should leave her here to take her chances. He wasn’t in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress.
It wasn’t part of his job.
Stupid looked at him. The face said have pity.
“All right,” said the dead man. “The least I can do is get you some clothes. After that, we’ll put you on a train, or something to get you out of here.”
“Thank you,” said the woman. “Who are you?”
“Just a lowly bounty hunter,” said the man with no name. “Let’s go before I have to kill some more people I don’t have to.”
He lifted her on the saddle. He mounted behind her. He took one more look at the gambling hall. No one had come out of the place after him. He didn’t have to tell Stupid to go.
They rode down the street until Stupid stopped in front of a haberdashery. He made a whicker. The dead man slid out of the saddle. He helped the woman down. They went inside through a busted door. They came back out with a new dress and boots, and a bag of clothes for her. They remounted and headed off down the street.
The man with no name kept his eyes moving. His list in the city was done. Once he figured out what to do with his companion, he was free to move on.
He saw a train station in the distance. He tugged on the rein and Stupid changed his course. The horse trotted up to the steps leading to the station. He dismounted and lifted the woman down to the ground.
“Thank you,” she said. “I needed the help.”
“Good luck,” said the dead man. “I have to get back to work.”
He mounted up. He watched her walk in the train station, with her bag. No one seemed interested in her. When the train rolling north came, she sat in a compartment and waved at him as the mechanical dragon rolled down the track. He waved back, even though he didn’t know why.
He pulled the deck of cards and picked out the next closest target to the city. The location was northeast of the city, and a day, or two, away.
“Let’s go,” said the dead man. “This job isn’t going to do itself.”