The Staccato cry of machine gun fire, echoed out through the night. Frightened men called to their fellows, while their superiors bellowed orders. Grenades and explosive jars of magic-reactive substances were tossed.

A thunderous roar shook the outer-wastes, rattling winds and drowning out the howl of the wind.

The Five-Dime MoonDogs were facing a threat bigger their fellows, bigger than the armies, or the cartels, or the high level heroes. A demon walks through the midsts. Or some kind of low level dread lord maybe.

They’d fire at it, and their bullets would be snatched from out of the air. Sent screaming back at them as superfast, superheated balls of molten metal. A few brave fools tried to engage with melee weapons or in hand to hand and they were torn apart.

Even more unlucky were those who tried to run. At best it’d simply catch them. The creature’s fist appearing through their torso and crashing through their skulls. At worst the monster would disappear.

Some unfortunate would suddenly stumble, their steps halting as they started to scream. Their flesh bubbling and boiling till suddenly they’d burst.

Exploding like some kind of meat grenade, sending flesh and bone shrapnel flying everywhere.

Then he’d appear, standing where they were standing, covered in their blood. Resuming his pitiless onslaught as he rapidly whittled down their numbers.

*****

Pro-tip, ‘finish the job’. Whether it’s lawn work, or that big school project, or ending a relationship that’s not really working out. I’ve generally found it only bites in the butt if you leave things half done.

The same goes for murder. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a monster and even I think killing wrong, it’s the third worst thing you can do to a person. Still, my statement remains the same, like evil overlord list says, if you’re going to start something, ‘finish the job’.

Don’t just assumed you finished. Don’t just expect that the rest will be handled for you. Or that it’s all a forgone conclusion. Finish the job. Nothing gets people out for your blood, more than the fact that you nearly spilled theirs.

Mind you, I’m probably not the best person to be lecturing anyone on this, I’m kind of a soft touch, plus I’m generally very lazy and even just now I nearly got myself in trouble.

I caught up to those bandits who nearly killed me and took my stuff. Me and the guy who shot me and the guy who stabbed me, all had a little sit down and by the end of it, they were feeling quite bad about the whole situation.

So I got to leave their camp, with my things, plus a war axe that was better than the one I’d had before, and some cash, some extra gear and a brand pair of boots that just happened to be in my size.

I didn’t take the gun. Mostly because I never ‘was’ able to shoot worth a damn, even with my uncanny perception that allows me to see without eyes, and look through souls and count granules of sand on the distant beaches of distant worlds.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

And since Jack-Cannons, were pretty high-tier military tech, at least as far as Corny knew, I was kind of worried it’d be too hot to try and pawn, so I just scrapped the stupid thing, and refined the tiny essence stones inside its bullets.

Unfortunately one of the members that had been their hadn’t liked my negotiation tactics and because they were young and I do loath killing children, they got to scamper off and tell one of the allied gangs what had happened.

The bad news is that their allies didn’t like what happened either. The worse news was that the bloke with expensive gun had been the cousin to some big so-so who had a position in one of local cartels. People with pull.

Folks with influence in Radomir and several other nearby cities, in both the legitimate and criminal world. I shudder to think what would have happened if I’d gone home and been spotted.

Luckily I was keyed off by the fact that they’d started looking for me. The fact that someone was concentrating on my being tipping me off.

I used my ability to Perceive to find the one survivor I’d let off and then perceived and appraised all the people he told and all the people ‘they’ were connected to. Now a week later, I was cleaning up the mess, I’d almost made, sweating bullets because of how close a call this had been.

Whether I like it or not, whether it was real or not, I had a family to protect. I couldn’t be making rookie mistakes like this. Still no one’s perfect, and it was no harm no foul right? I decided I’d just chalk this up to a learning experience, later I’d use my monstrous abilities to erode my humanity a little and don an air of permanent anonymity.  

It’d probably get annoying, getting ignored all the time unless I really tried to get attention,(any attention), but it was better than having people coming after my friends and family.

A skull, was flattened beneath my boot-heel. All sort of thoughts, and philosophies and life views splattering onto the floor.  Some guy, in soiled trousers, was yapping about something, trying to bargain I think.

I spotted the youth from before and this time, I didn’t entertain any unnecessary thoughts of mercy. I left that boss’ panic room, and started wandering through the house, making sure I didn’t miss anybody.

Then when that was done, I sighed, exhausted, but well aware, that I still had a few more places to hit, before I was done, cleaning up after my little screw up. No worries though, I could be very diligent when I had to be.