016: TROUBLE LURKING

"Wait a damn sec," Satero hissed, yanking back on Corosa's shoulder as he attempted to take another step forwards. Corosa stumbled back behind him as Satero froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mastersmith's hands fumbling for the handle of a weapon he no longer had. Satero caught himself and swore.

Corosa shot him a questioning look. Satero waved him away, eyes flickering out over the plains. There was nothing in sight but grass everywhere, waist-high in some places.

Corosa thought about that.

Waist-high. Ah.

That was probably why there was nothing in sight.

"There ain't no wind, right?" Satero muttered, still searching.

"No." Corosa was sure of that. For the past half-hour, he'd been wishingfor a wind. Out here, there was no overhead foilage to block out the sun. And it was noon.

"Well, I coulda swore I just saw the grass sway. Or somethin'. 'S silent now, though." Satero ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were narrowed.

Corosa looked in the same direction. The grass was completely still. He looked back at the mastersmith.

It was too early, he'd thought. They'd been resting by the Pronteran roadside for a couple of days, but Satero was still limping and his leg was still in pain. Oddly enough, it'd been Satero who'd gotten them on the move. Not Corosa. Corosa had been for staying a while longer. Satero had laughed at him, and said he'd be perfectly fine. And the whole way, he had been; he hadn't said a word about his leg and he'd never had to call for a stop yet. But Corosa had been watching him the whole way and he noticed things.

If there was something out there, waiting for them, Satero was in no shape to be fighting.

Neither of them were, really.

Corosa was about to suggest they turn back when Satero grabbed his arm and jerked his head in the direction he'd been staring at.

"Shoot. That way," he said, quietly. "Don't ask, jus' do it."

The last statement did nothing to stop Corosa from hesitating. "If it's a monster and I shoot, it'll come after us."

"Yeah, but at least then it won't fucking jump at us from nowhere. Least then we'll know where it is. 'Sides, 's not like any monster round here to sit around and wait. If they ain't attackin', they move on, and if they are attackin', then they damn well attack." Satero spat out the cigarette he'd been chewing on for most of the morning – or, considering the rate at which he went through them, it was possibly his eleventh or twelfth one.

"It might not--"

"Oy, I've got two good hands."

"Legs, too?" Corosa could not swallow the retort.

"Shut up. We're even now. Now shoot or else I'll throw you at the thing."

Corosa stared at the surrounding plains dubiously. Aside from the fact that he did not want to attract some injured and enraged animal, there was also the fact that he had not yet restocked. His ammunition was running low.

Satero hit him on the back of the head. "Want me to count to three?"

"No. Your services are not required."

The shot went off before Corosa had finished his sentence.

There was a sound, beyond that of the gun – louder than the gun, even. Something had yelped. Something that sounded suspiciously human.

"Thief," Satero guessed, watching the trail of moving grass. "Highwayman."

"If so, he's not too good at it." Corosa was watching the same thing, wondering whether he ought to shoot again.

It was around that point that Satero suddenly swore, very loudly, and tackled Corosa to the ground.

Somewhere above them, there was a flash of metal.

Satero was off Corosa in a moment, rolling away and grabbing their attacker's ankle. In one swift movement, he yanked back as hard as he could and sent the man crashing to the ground. But the man was just as fast, and there was a katar aimed at Satero not a split second later. Corosa's gun had been knocked away when Satero threw him to the ground. It was too far to grab. He did the next best thing, which was to smash his fist into the attacker's face.

He cursed. If he'd had two arms, he'd have been able to swing his guncase into the man. Considering the fact that it held the rest of his weaponry, it would have done much more damage. But his left arm was already tired out from carrying it; slamming it into someone was out of the question.

Satero had thrown himself at the attacker again – an assassin cross? Corosa wondered, catching a glimpse of the uniform. Corosa scrambled for his gun, snatching it up and then realizing he'd have a higher chance of shooting Satero than he would the assassin.

The idiot. No one threw himself at someone armed with very sharp weapons when he himself was unarmed. The idiot. Corosa would have screamed at him out of sheer irritation, if he had not seen a burst of red blossom between the two.

He saw a hand go up, katar with it, dark and bony and unfamiliar. Without a moment's hesitation he shot.

A scream, but more of fury than of rage. Corosa could not see whether he'd hit because the hand and katar were both brought down, a minute later, on Satero.

The mastersmith threw himself back just in time. The blade scraped against his shoulder, tearing through cloth.

What happened next went too fast for Corosa to see. He heard a crack, heard another scream of rage, and saw a flash of silver. And then Satero had the man pinned down by one wrist – Corosa vaguely realized the fingers of the assassin's other hand were bent in unnatural directions, the katar discarded – and Corosa had his gun against the attacker's head.

The assassin gave them a more than maniacal grin, and swung his mangled hand into the side of Satero's head.

There was a shout, and for a moment Corosa found himself completely confused. It had not come from any of them. Then he looked up and saw another man, white-and-black haired, already disappearing away from them.

It had been a mistake to look up. Satero was dazed by the blow. The assassin realized that the mastersmith had let go of his good hand and the gunslinger was no longer paying attention to him. Faster than any human should have been able to move, the assassin was up on his feet and dashing after his companion, two katars in one hand.

He shot one glance behind, and Corosa caught sight of bright blue eyes. Bright and blue and insane.

Corosa fired several shots after them, but missed with each of them. He clenched his teeth together, thinking that if he'd been able to use both hands he'd at least have hit one of the bastards.

Satero suddenly put a hand on his shoulder when Corosa tried to reload.

"Shit," Satero groaned. He brought a hand to his head, then dropped it and clutched his shoulder. "Shit. Never mind. Jus' let 'em...oh, shit, shit, shit. Fuck. Fuck. Corosa's, where's your case?"

They looked around.

The case was nowhere in sight.

"Goddammit, you'd think an assassin cross woulda had better things to do than fuckin' steal off other people!"

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A/N: RicePaper, this one's for you since you requested it in Shades of Gray.

Guess who the guest stars are. :D

There's a companion chapter to this one in Shades, if anyone wants to check it out. 'S not that exciting. First...Sound and Stone bitch at each other. And then...they bitch at each other even more! AND SOMEONE ACTUALLY GETS SOMETHING THROWN AT HIM. I think I'm going to have a heart attack!

ALSO ALSO ALSO YOU GUYS MUST SEE THE AWESOME FANART I GOT MFRRHKKGHGHKHGKHKG. I still can't stop squealing about it. (tinyurl(dot)com(slash)2vcp4c)

Thanks so much Rizuuuuuuuuu I LOVE YOU.