It struck Alter as he listened to the approaching footfalls that he really should have stolen a glance at the men who had been watching them. Now here he was preparing to ambush a pair of feet that could belong to anyone. Strange world. Had the footsteps become faster and more urgent sounding since he rounded the corner? Or was that just him. Either way it was too late to bail out now. The individual who promptly appeared at the top of the stairs was certainly no waitress. Riptide’s assessment seemed to track; this figure was absolutely in possession of a roguish flair. His clothes were made of dark leather with a red tinge akin to autumn leaves. Alter was no expert when it came to leatherwork but he could recognise the deftness of a master craftsman when he saw it. Across the man's back lay a dark fabric cloak complete with hood, it reached around his shoulders and was fastened at his breast by a silver clasp shaped like a howling wolf. A thick belt made of the same leather housed a number of knives and other survival tools. He had no major armaments that Alter could see, but who knew what the cloak could be hiding. His face was scarred and weathered, with short black hair and a beard that slalomed along his jaw like a shoreline with a cross-current. His grey eyes spoke of the eerie stillness of yesterday’s battlefields and the harsh calls of carrion birds. A grim face, hardened to the world.

The man took the surprise of nearly bumping into Alter well, other than his eyes widening and a stuttering half-step he barely reacted as he moved past. Alter’s eyes slid along after him, tracking the path of the back of his head but never making direct contact. He did not flinch nor slow down but instead continued for a short distance before smoothly producing a room key from a pocket and vanishing through one of the many doorways. A soft thud and a metallic click quickly followed. Alter found himself alone, his hand still idly toying with his pistol holster and the growing sense that he was, indeed, getting a little paranoid. Why had he been so immediately convinced the man had wished him harm? He would’ve received the warning pulse if he had genuinely intended to attack. With a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment he forced himself to move his hand away from his sidearm and take a slow breath. Nothing good would come from treating people like this.

A low groan escaped his lips as he allowed his legs to carry him down to their rooms, using his shoulder to push the door open. Walross was sat cross legged in the centre of the floor, surrounded by metal parts and mechanical apparatus. He had found a cloth rag from somewhere and was busy polishing what Alter realised was a detached rifle barrel.

“I didn’t know you were a gun maintenance guru.” He remarked as he closed the door behind him.

“I’m not. I just felt the need to do something with my hands.” Walross answered without looking up.

“We’ve only had these for a couple of days, surely they don’t need work already?” Alter crossed to his bed and slowly sank down onto it.

“You’d be surprised. We were in the Badlands for a day and a half, that’s more than enough time for the dirt to worm its way inside. Grime is insidious, I’m not going to let it jam my weapon at a crucial moment.” The German punctuated his statements with harsh, rapid movements as he cleaned. It looked like he was removing the accursed grime by throttling it away. Seemingly satisfied with his now sparklingly clean and thoroughly strangled barrel, he set it down on the floor and cast his eyes about for his next victim.

“It’s strange.” He continued “I’ve never seen the inside of a rifle, or any firearm for that matter. But when I broke it apart, I found that I knew each piece. Even with them all scattered about like this, even though I know none of their names, I can tell which goes where and how they all move and work together.”

Alter found himself leaning forward as Walross spoke, brow furrowing as he too studied the various objects. Yes, he could see it too. That bit with the dangly section next to his right foot slots into the rail-y looking bit by his left calf. It was like a jigsaw puzzle he had never seen but somehow knew inside out.

“It doesn’t get any less disconcerting, does it?” He muttered and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No. It doesn’t.” Agreed Walross and the two men sat in relative silence.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Walross reassembled his weapon in a blur of motion. A quick check over with a couple of test trigger pulls and he nodded in satisfaction.

“Well, I should see about getting something to eat.” He levered himself upright with a grunt.

“I’d do that. Oh, I forgot to mention we had some suspicious men measuring us up down there. I don’t think they intend any harm but just keep an eye open, alright?”

Stolen story; please report.

“Got it.” Walross strode quickly from the room, the sound of his steps quickly faded from audible range.

Alter was considering following suit and cleaning his own weapons when the sound of urgent footsteps and the door opening interrupted his thoughts. Walross stuck his head through the doorway.

“You might want to see this.” His voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Alter felt his stomach drop as he hurriedly stood up and left the room, pausing briefly to lock the door behind him. With trepidation he moved to join Walross at the top of the stairs and looked down. Much to his relief the rest of the squad were still sitting around the table, drinks in hands and pistols out of sight. The strange thing, however, was that the six men he’d left behind had now become eleven. Sat interspersed between his friends were the same dark leather, cloak wearing individuals that had been boring holes in the back of his skull all evening. Now they were drinking, talking and laughing together. There was even a dice game taking place.

“Oh.” Alter managed, the knot in his chest fading.

“Alcohol, my friend. There is no finer social lubricant.” Walross smiled.

“So I see.”

“We should probably make sure no one is doing anything too stupid.”

Alter nodded and the pair scurried downward. Soon the buzz of conversation came dangerously close to drowning out his own thoughts with the room now edging towards being at full capacity. He spotted the fact that Riptide and Boozehound were sitting together with their backs turned to him, seemingly deep in conversation with one of the mysterious men on the outskirts of the group. With some small amount of satisfaction, he stole up behind them and slammed a hand onto each of their shoulders and leaned in between them.

“What’s going on boys?” He asked, keeping his tone light but his eyes blazing.

“Ahh, perfect timing, Captain!” Riptide recovered quickly but Alter could hear the slight slur to his speech.

“Sir, allow me to introduce Huntmaster Raymond Garrosman of the Silver Pack. Huntmaster, this is Captain Alterfate of the RGS Freelance Company.” Boozehound announced names and titles with a suitable level of theatre and drunken enthusiasm.

Alter looked at the man sitting across from them. This was not the individual who had followed him upstairs, but he bore incredibly similar markings. His hair was a faded red, his eyes a warm brown. He placed his mostly empty mug on the table and extended a hand which, with a nod from Boozehound, Alter reciprocated and shook.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Alterfate. Your lieutenants speak quite highly of you.” The Huntmaster had to raise his voice above the din but Alter could detect rich, friendly tones through the background noise.

“The pleasure is mine, Huntmaster. What has brought you to us this evening?” Alter matched his tone as best he could, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I was just explaining that very thing. We are bounty hunters, specialising in the removal of organised criminal organisations. My men and I had accepted a contract for the heads of an Unlimited known as Murgo and his lackeys. But someone beat us to them.” His smile remained. A predator’s smile.

Alter’s eyebrows raised in surprise but he lowered them soon after. They had not been subtle in their movements while travelling here, it wouldn’t require an expert tracker to follow them this far. There was no real point in denying their involvement.

“Six men against forty odd? You play a risky numbers game, unless you have other men elsewhere tonight.” Alter kept his eyes on the man as Vangroover silently appeared and traded his chair for the room key. The Canadian didn’t drink, and was likely more than happy to get some quiet time.

“Indeed. But my men and I are hardened veterans, we were prepared for weeks of ambushes and careful engagements to whittle them down before a decisive blow. We had information on their hideout but when we went to recon the old fort it was empty. Except for the corpses, of course.”

“What can I say, we prefer to travel light.”

“Might I ask why you decided to target them? They weren’t exactly out in the open.” Raymond’s head tilted slightly to the side in genuine curiosity.

“They had managed to kidnap a person important to our employer. We couldn’t just let them get away with it.” Alter kept his voice casual and tried not to ponder the fact that he was talking about people he’d killed.

“The burnt out carriage, and the dead horsemen. More of your work?” He pressed.

Alter simply nodded, eyes flicking to the rest of the group. Whim and Pavejack were busy teaching three of the Silver Pack members how to play liar's dice. A classic, he approved.

“I must ask though, sheerly out of professional curiosity. How did you kill those men? The wounds we found on their bodies are unusual, especially Murgo himself. Miniature piercing marks that seem minor but leave devastating internal damage. Murgo was coated in them, plus a large stab wound through his ribcage that seemed to have been cauterised nearly instantly from the lack of blood. How did you manage that?” Raymond’s eyes glimmered, his gaze intent.

“That’s a trade secret I’m afraid.” Alter smiled and relaxed into his seat and the Huntmaster relented with a wave of his hand.

“I understand. Anyway, you have inadvertently saved both me and my men a lot of time and blood. We may not have received the full bounty but I was able to secure a sum of the payment. Perhaps I could supply you with another round of drinks, as a celebration of our meeting and of the knowledge that there’s one less bastard in the world.” He offered, smile widening, a small coin purse appearing with a satisfying jingle.

Alter knew he shouldn't accept this offer so easily but he quite liked that idea. After all, when in Rome do as the Romans do.

“That sounds lovely.”