Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Dynamite Entertainment, Rockstar, etc.
Gran Turismo was a nice surprise, maybe not anything special, but as a fan of motorsport it was a visual treat.
ian12091995: Kind of you to say that, but not everything is for everyone, and it's not as if Sonja is the most popular character out there.
Nearly there now, as our heroes continue their preparations. But along the way, they'll encounter a stranger that, nonetheless, seems to know the both of them...
She Devil of the Frontier
Chapter 8: Got an Evil Eye
Sonja crossed her arms and glared at Seth; the exhumer had emerged from his hiding spot after the shooting had stopped, and any relief the Hyrkanian had been experiencing upon the rescue of Caroline MacLaughlin sank at the man's off-putting appearance. Before Marshal Cooper took Caroline back to Deming, and her father, the Lawman put them both to the question. "Explain yourself, boy," his barking words causing Seth to flinch. "You throw yourself in with this lot?" he asked, hand resting on the grip of his revolver.
The exhumer waved his arms almost as frantically as he answered, "No partner, I wasn't doing nuthin' with that there bunch," he said, pointing towards the bodies. "I was here on my own, on my own business, yes sir." Stamping his foot, Seth clammed up, manic eyes darting amongst the rest of the group.
"For what… for what it's worth," said Caroline, a cough interrupting her words, "I've never seen that man before, he certainly wasn't amongst the bunch that took me. I'd have remembered him," she claimed.
"That's right!" exclaimed Seth, dirty finger pointing to MacLaughlin, "When they showed up, I hid! I'm telling you mister, I wasn't a part of it.
Cooper eyed Seth for a long moment, but finally gave a single, sharp nod and turned to his deputies, "C'mon boys, let's get Miss MacLaughlin back to her father," he declared. The Lawmen helped Caroline gingerly back to the horses, through the remains of the gun battle that had taken place to save her.
With the lawmen having departed the ghost town with Caroline, it was just the Hyrkanian, Bounty Hunter, and Exhumer. Sonja's jaw clenched as her thoughts lined up to be spat at Seth, but they were in such conflict for which would be the first out of her mouth that it was her companion who spoke first.
"So, Seth," drawled Walker, the Bounty Hunter putting one of his cigarillos between his lips and igniting one of his 'matches,' bringing the flame to his tobacco and igniting it, Walker shook out the fire and took a puff before asking, "Are you ready to help us?"
"I'm not… not quite ready," admitted Seth, stuttering under the gunslinger's icy gaze. Sonja couldn't help but enjoy seeing the deplorable man squirm, smirking as she silently watched the exhumer crack and babble on. "You see, I wasted a bunch of time, looking for that last bit of map," admitted Seth, wringing his filthy hands together. "But then I gots to thinkin," he said, leaning in closer and making the stench coming off him even more unbearable, "Moses was a liar. And I imagined myself doing all kinds of unpleasant things to his corpse, then I realized…."
"Realized you are sick in the head?" asked Sonja, not dampening the vitriol on her tongue, "That you ought move on with your limited time among the living before you are sent to Erlik's fiery pit where you belong?"
"No partner," answered Seth, looking at Sonja for the first time, "I realized that Moses weren't no liar." The Hyrkanian sighed, hopes that she might soon be rid of this man dashed across the rocks. The Exhumre turned back to Walker and spoke, "The issue was Aiden O'Leary… who said he had the body… Aiden died in that flu epidemic!" Sonja rolled her eyes and decided she wanted no further part in this, and walked towards a nearby building that offered some refuge from the blazing sun overhead, Seth still babbling on behind her. "The bodies weren't even buried yet. I've… I've… I've…."
"Got the bodies sitting in the back of that wagon," realized the She-Devil aloud, seeing the wagon parked beside the building, the stench of the rotting corpses making another step an unpleasant proposition.
"Sure do," answered Seth, sounding much too proud of the fact for Sonja's liking.
"Seth," drawled Walker slowly while Sonja retreated to the gunslinger, lest she gag from the smell. "You didn't even wait for the bodies to be buried before you…."
"Well they don't care!" retorted the exhumer, throwing up his arms before turning to the wagon and shouting, "Do ya' boys?"
Silence was their only answer.
"Honest folk, off to a better place," insisted Seth, "Apart from that Aiden O' Leary fella. I never liked him." His voice lowered into a rasp, "They say he lay with his sister." Sonja's lip curled back while she watched Walker gnaw on the end of his cigarillo, but neither answered the man. "I don't like women, partner," continued Seth, his eyes flicking manically back towards the Hyrkanian woman. "I don't, not since… mammy died."
"What," hissed Sonja, hand inadvertently finding its way to the hilt of her blade, "Did you do to those bodies?"
"I brought them out here, to where I thought was a nice quiet spot," admitted Seth as he descended into chittering with each passing word. "And I searched 'em for the map. I needs it, partner, I needs it…" he repeated, trailing off. The next words he spoke were to nobody in particular, "I'm gonna be rich, rich! When I find that treasure, I'm…."
"Did you?" asked Walker, his calm voice cutting through Seth's mania like a sharpened blade. "Because I still need your help."
"Ah, well… how are you?" asked Seth, while Sonja watched his eyes frantically dart from side to side.
"Swell," drawled back Walker, puffing on his tobacco.
"Good…" answered Seth, eyes darting about. "Well… see ya' later, partners," he bid with a wave, turning away from both and trying to skulk off in plain sight.
Sonja looked to her companion and saw him set his jaw, "Where you going, partner?" he called to the back of Seth.
"Nowhere," answered the Exhumer, coming to a halt, stuttering as he began to turn back towards the pair before pressing on.
"Okay, nowhere wouldn't happen to be where that thing you're looking for is kept, would it?" pressed Walker, pursuing Seth with purposeful strides.
Sonja closed in on him too, and the pair soon caught up with the shorter man, standing on either side of him. "No sir. No sir," denied Seth, head hanging dejectedly. The man shook his head, avoiding any eye contact with Sonja or Walker.
"Come on, partner," taunted Joshua, giving Seth a gentle shove that sent the man stumbling towards Sonja.
The Hyrkanina's gloved hand shot out and grabbed the exhumer by the frayed hem of his shirt, keeping him from faceplanting in the dirt, "O… okay," stuttered Seth, "I was just fooling, partner." He got his feet back under him and tried to back away, but Sonja kept her hold on him, keeping Seth from evading them. "Ya' know," began Seth, smacking his peeling lips, "The thought of that treasure… it does funny things to me."
"Your mind must be clear if you are to aid us," intoned Sonja, giving the man a hearty shake, "This treasure you seek, do you know where it resides?"
With a filthy, trembling hand, Seth reached into the waistband of his trousers and came back with a sullied, tattered piece of parchment, but he held it up triumphantly. "According to this," he said, a familiar, wild look in his eye as he pointed up a hill, "It's somewhere up in that big abandoned house over there."
"Let's go then, we'll make sure you get that treasure of yours." drawled Walker, stepping back and relinquishing his grip on the exhumer.
"You… you serious, partner?" stuttered Seth, prompting the Bounty Hunter to nod. "Then let's go!" he whooped, "I'm gonna be rich! Rich beyond my wildest dreams…."
"Then maybe you can take a bath," suggested Sonja wryly, but Seth waved her off as he skipped up the road through the town and towards the big house on the far side. Letting her breath out in a huff, the Hyrknaian joined Walker in following the treasure seeker. "You have been inside where these bandits reside, Fort Cassidy?" inquired Sonja, walking past the bodies of the bandits that had just been slain and thinking only of retribution for their attempt at treachery.
"Sure 'ave, couplea times," answered Seth, not turning his head away from the house that contained his prize. "Suppose you'd be interested, since you're breakin' in and all, you'd wants me to tell ya' about it?"
"It'd be nice," drawled Walker, still smoking his cigarillo while his eyes remained locked on the horizon.
"Army built it for fightin' Indians, Comanche and such like," recalled Seth, the words coming out with a quickness that betrayed his excitement. "Up and left about three or four years ago, that's when Simon and his whole bunch moved on in, he had been stationed there, you see?" Neither Sonja nor Walker answered, and the exhumer continued on, "Walls, big 'ol walls, and Shane's got three or four guys keepin' watch at all times."
"That's not enough," intoned Walker, gnawing on his tobacco, eyes clouded by thought, "We give 'em something to look at and might be able to sneak the Marshal up close. There any way in but the main gate?"
"Sure is, partner," affirmed Seth. "There's a big gap in the east side wall. One of Deek's guys had a… mishap… with some dynamite, oh 'bout 10 months back now, blasted a hole clean through the outer walls, yes sir. You could hear the blast for miles."
"And the layout inside the walls?" asked Sonja, the trio now starting up the gentle slope along a winding path that led to the impressive house where Seth believed his treasure awaited him.
"Nothin' much special 'buot that, a barracks, stable, storehouses…" rattled off Seth, arms flailing about as he listed each feature.
"There any good spots for our kind of work?" asked Walker, cutting the rambling of the treasure seeker short. Removing the cigarillo, the Gunfighter let out a long puff of smoke before clarifying, "By that, I mean a spot with some cover, where nobody can get up behind us, preferably close to the front gate."
Seth's head bobbed up and down, dried lips pulled back to expose a grin of rotting teeth, "Sure is, partner, I can think of a spot just off to the right of that big gate, yes sir, should work a peach for you. No room in the wall behind it, the walkway up above collapsed, and the stables shield you on the left side."
"Perfect," hummed Walker, returning the tobacco to his lips, blue eyes shining with thoughts Sonja could not guess the details of, but found herself smiling at.
Reaching the big house, which, if not for its poor state, would be fit for a Lord or Baron, Sonja watched as Seth skipped up the steps and yanked on the door, only for the wood to fail to budge. "No, don't do this to me now!" cried the treasure seeker, "We gotta get in there! The treasure's in that house."
Rolling her neck, the Hyrkanian took a small bit of satisfaction in shoving the scrawny man aside and raising her boot and unleashing a powerful kick against the door. Only Sonja found that it was not quite so rotten that it crumbled under her effort, but held fast despite her strike, so strong was the door that it sent the Hyrkanian off kilter. Stumbling back and trying to regain her footing, Sonja failed and fell back, only for a pair of arms to catch and hold her above the ground. "Must be tougher than it looks," drawled Walker, the gunslinger looking down at Sonja with a small smirk, "Maybe we'll have better luck 'round back."
Sonja pouted, but voiced her agreement, "It seems we shall." The Hyrkanian was then pulled up to her feet, and she set off after an eager Seth around the house in search of entry.
"Looky here!" cried Seth from around the corner. Turning, Sonja saw the man standing over an open trap door, "Basement's wide open!" Without hesitation, the man plunged into the murky depths, vanishing from sight as Sonja heard the man's impacts and yelps from the entrance. "I'm okay," called the exhumer, "Come on down!"
Sonja frowned as Walker stepped beside her and offered her one of his matches, another one in his own hand. The Bounty Hunter took a tentative step down and struck the match against the wooden door, igniting the small bit of flame that was just enough to illuminate the steps in front of him. Watching him descend, Sonja mimicked his actions, flinching as the flame flickered on the twig's end and she descended into the belly of the structure. Hand pressed against the wall, she felt as much as she saw her way into the basement. Under the dim light of the match, Sonja saw bedrolls, food tins, and personal items, no doubt abandoned by the bandits they had battled the hour prior.
Treading through the basement, Sonja followed the men up the stairs, exiting into the kitchen of the house proper, finding that it too was filled with rubbish. Seth was already bolting about with such speed that he nearly sent Sonja tumbling back down the stairs she had just climbed. "It's here, it's gotta be here!" cried the treasure hunter, "Sweet Lord, don't forsake me now!"
"Now?" questioned Sonja, looking towards Walker, who merely shrugged as the pair watched Seth tear up the house and what was left of his hair. Frantic ravings emanated from Seth as he roamed the house at random, turning over furniture and pounding at the walls in search of the fortune he seemed certain awaited him.
The filthy man rushed back into the main room, spinning around, "Where can it be? It's in here somewhere!" shouted Seth before he stilled, eyes turned upwards. Letting out a sputter of cackling laughter, the man bolted up the stairs to the second floor of the house. "You two! Get over here, lend me a hand!"
Sonja saw the Bounty Hunter offer a shrug before setting off after Seth with measured strides, after a moment, and a huff, the Hyrkanian did the same. At the top of the stairs, the Hyrkanian's eyes went to Seth, the man wildly tugging on a closed door, to no effect. "We gotta get the damn thing open!"
"Shall I?" asked Walker, Sonja noting the slight smirk on his face, "Or do you wanna second crack at a door in this place?"
Hearing the subtle challenge in his tone, Sonja rolled her neck, "Stand back," she growled, and both men stood aside at once. The Hyrkanian barreled forwards, throwing, not her foot, but her shoulder into the decrepit door, and all her strength was enough to cause it to buckle. Teeth set together, Sonja bashed into it again, and this time it gave way completely, quickly shoved aside and forgotten as Seth sprinted into the room.
Sonja took it in, but there was little to see, that was, except for the large, locked trunk that sat in its center. A lock that was destroyed when a single gunshot rang out from one of Walker's pistols, which only stoked the treasure seeker's excitement. "Finally!" shouted Seth with a cackling laugh, "I see the light at the end of this very, very long tunnel!" Another burst of the exhumer's chattering laughter grated against the Hyrkanian's ringing ears. "Seth's gonna be rich after all these years…"
With blank faced astonishment, Sonja watched Seth break out into a celebratory dance, dust shaking from his garments as he did so. "It's silk sheets and Parisian whores from now on!" With that assertion, the man fell to his knees and crawled to the chest on his hands and knees before drawing his knife and prying the lid open. Sonja could not see inside, but could see the way Seth trembled at what he saw. "What the goddamn hell is this?" asked Seth, voice raw with emotion. His hand emerged from within the chest with something spherical in its filthy grasp. "A glass eye?"
A closer look confirmed that the object indeed was an incredible approximation of a human's eye, painted iris a rich brown and remarkable in its detail. Sonja heard a wry drawl say, "I'm sure whoever was the owner of that treasured it very much," and couldn't help but smile at Walker's words.
"Stupid liars…" hissed Seth, still on his knees, "With their stupid chicken shit maps! Making a damn fool outta me." The man seemed on the verge of tears before he sprang to his feet, his prize held high, "A glass eye! It's a glass eye."
"Cease with your tears!" snapped Sonja, fed up with the exhumer's hysterics. "Aid me in the destruction of Cassidy and his men. Then you can find whatever excuse you wish to exhume another of your past friends."
There was a moment of silence as Seth shook his head weakly, his shoulders sagging before he finally tossed away his prize. "Hunting dead man's treasure ain't done me no favors," admitted Seth, voice barely above a whisper. "Sure, sure, I'm ready for the living. I'll speak to Mr. West Dickens, then see about getting' into Fort Cassidy. I'll be ready when you come knockin.'"
Not wishing to remain in the presence of the man any longer, Sonja turned on her heel and made for the door, heading back down the stairs and towards the front door. Upon reaching the entrance to the home that had foiled her earlier, Sonja saw that they were obstructed by a wardrobe. With a shake of her head, the Hyrkanian leaned into the cabinet and pushed it aside with some manner of effort, clearing the barricade just as Walker rejoined her, still puffing on the stub in his mouth. "Come, let us leave this wretched place," said Sonja, yanking the door open and stepping outside.
The trek back to their horses dragged on, their pace slow with no pressing tasks before them. Nearing their mounts, Sonja came to an abrupt halt, her keen hearing picking up voices on the desert breeze. "We are not alone," she warned, her words barely above a whisper.
Alert, the She-Devil listened intently, trying to discern who was near. Drawing nearer, the Swordswoman slipped into a dilapidated shop, treading carefully across the warped floorboards, Sonja peered through a gap in the wall before relaying what she saw. "Four men, armed, look like brigands. Perhaps these are the men who fled."
"And perhaps they're not," returned the Bounty Hunter lowly. His words brought Sonja pause; she did not recognize what little she could see of their faces. These men may very well not serve Gath, as Simon's did. "What're they doing?" questioned Walker, voice calm.
"Little, milling about, one seems to be keeping watch on our horses," replied Sonja after slipping back from the crevice. When Walker didn't answer, the Hyrkanian asked, "What shall we do?"
"You stay here, keep an eye on 'em," answered Walker in his calm drawl, "I'ma go introduce myself." Before she could reply, Sonja watched the Bounty Hunter head for the door and step outside, the sound of his spurs softly clicking on the breeze. The Hyrkanian moved swiftly, but silently, heading for the back door and slipping out of the shop, Sonja slipped behind a broken down cart and peered over, waiting to see how this would play out.
Walker stepped around the corner, "Excuse me boys," he called out, prompting all four men to turn and face him. "I was wondering what you fellas are doing out here?"
"None of ya' business, mister," spat one, the others nodding in agreement. "Go on, get outta here."
"That's the problem, you see, since you fellas are all eyein' my horse over there, I had a thought that y'all wanted to talk to me. Anything y'all wanna say?" The Bounty Hunter paused, the words hanging in the air as he removed the stub of tobacco and tossed it on the ground, crushing it underfoot as he drew his duster back, revealing the pair of holstered pistols. Sonja watched the four bandits slowly square up to Walker, hands inching nearer to their own weapons while the Bounty Hunter stared at each with discerning, narrowed eyes, waiting to see if any would speak. When none did, he spoke through clenched teeth, "No? Well, you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?"
Tension was thick in the air, and Sonja's own hand crept towards her scattergun, meaning to silently draw it before battle commenced, when she spied a bandit's hand grasp the butt of his pistol. Opening her mouth to shout a warning to Walker, all she did was let it gape in astonishment as she watched the man smoothly draw both revolvers, the right fractionally faster than the left, before firing the guns, one after the other, swiftly gunning down three men while the fourth scampered away.
The last bandit pressed his back to the wall of the building Sonja had just left and reached for his pistol, but as soon as it was clear of its holster, the Hyrkanian stood and leveled her shotgun. A blast of buckshot tore through the torso of the wounded man. Replacing the cut down weapon, Sonja strode towards Walker, "You were going to allow that man to escape?" she asked, incredulous.
Walker shook his head, "He wasn't going nowhere fast," he answered, "Not when he had to go through you."
The Hyrkanian nodded, "One more question. The first man you shot, how did you see his hand reach for his gun?"
"I didn't," answered Walker bluntly. Sonja's shock must've shown when he looked at her, because the Bounty Hunter elaborated. "That one in the center, he had a flap holster, he was in no itchin' hurry. The one on the left, the one who ran, he had scared eyes, he wasn't going to do nothin.' The one on the right, he was too busy looking at his fellows, he wasn't going to do anything they didn't do. But that one on the far right, I didn't need to see his hands, not when he had crazy eyes, figured it'd be him to make the first move."
"And you're certain these men were villains?" pressed Sonja.
Walker shrugged as they arrived at their mounts, "None of them whistled Dixie."
Reins in hand, Walker steered Shelby along the trail through the hills towards Thieves' Landing, where, as West Dickens had informed them, Irish was waiting for them after locating a stash of ammunition they could procure for their Gatling Gun. The small town towards the eastern part of the territory, Walker had learned, was a renowned center for gambling, smuggling, and prostitution due to its location on one of the few major waterways in southern New Mexico. Sonja was far from thrilled about venturing there, and Walker wasn't exactly enthused, but they had no choice, not if they wanted to use the machine gun.
After her ordeal, Caroline had been returned to her father, and the pair departed for their ranch before Walker and Sonja had returned to Deming, the pair were going to check in with the MacLaughlins to make sure the family was okay after their ordeal. But the Bounty Hunter told himself he would do that when Fort Cassidy had fallen and he could look them in the eye and tell them it wouldn't happen again.
Reaching the highest point of the path and rounding the hill, Walker spied a lone figure standing beside the road, overlooking the desert below. "Hey, you there, need some help?" called Joshua, pulling back on the reins to slow his horse, "Friend, do you hear me?" Bringing Shelby to a stop the gunfighter got a better look at the man, or at least his back. He was average in height and build, but finely clothed in a black suit jacket and trousers, a silk top hat resting on his head.
"I've been waiting for you two," answered the man without turning around, the words catching Walker by surprise. Joshua cast a glance towards Sonja and, upon seeing the Hyrkanian looked as bewildered as he felt, swung a leg over the saddle and slid off his horse. Warily, the Bounty Hunter approached the strange man, who again spoke without turning around. "Hello Joshua. Joshua Walker."
"Do I know you?" asked a befuddled Walker, walking alongside the man, looking him over. He was in his early forties, with an air of refinement and experience about him, but no scars, grey hairs, or wrinkles marring his face. His hair, like the mustache he sported, was finely groomed, and his eyes were distant, yet pensive as they took a measure of Tombstone.
A sense of unease permeated Walker, and he looked back to Sonja, who too had dismounted her horse and was moving towards the two men. "I hope so," replied the stranger, his tone measured, "I seem to know you." He then turned towards the approaching redhead and spoke to her, "I know you as well, Sonja of Hyrkania."
One of Walker's eyebrows raised as he scrutinized the stranger further, "I'm pretty good at remeberin' faces," he remarked.
"Are you?" countered the strange man, unbothered. His eyes twinkled deviously, sending an uncharacteristic shiver down Walker's spine. "Do you remember Heide McCort's face?"
Taken slightly aback, Joshua took a moment to think back, but nothing came to mind, "Who?" he asked with genuine confusion.
"She was a girl Franz Schultz shot in the head on that raid on the work camp some years back, that one where you first carried those guns," replied the stranger, nodding towards the Schofields on Walker's hips. "Pretty girl," continued the man with a sigh, "Until her eye was hanging out by a thread of tendon and her brain was plastered all over a tree.
Walker remembered that day vividly, but the faces of those there, those except Schultz, were a haze. "Not really," admitted the Bounty Hunter honestly.
"Then why would you remember me, friend?" he asked matter of factly, "You've forgotten people far more important than me."
"I tire of your riddles. What game is it you wish to play?" challenged Sonja, full of bravado.
"But you love to play games, don't you, Sonja. You play them all the time. Like the one you played with Baron Flynt, you completed the task he paid you for, but you demanded more when you learned he had more to give. Tell me, did he wish to play games?" The Hyrkanian relented, eyes wide as she took a step back from the man, who gave the stunned duo a pleasant smile. "I don't have a game," he stated before clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to stroll about. "Listen, sometimes I just wish I'd known more about life. Wish I'd had better guidance." He came to a halt and turned to face them, head tilted, "Friend of mine, is drunk as a skunk in the saloon on Thieves Landing. I think he's going to be unfaithful to his dear wife." The well dressed man turned on his heel so he was facing the pair and continued. "Why don't you two head over there and see if you can advise him how best to proceed?"
"What do you think we are?" asked Walker, mildly indignant.
The stranger chuckled, "I know what you two are," he replied before turning back to look over the landscape. "Just if you have the time, friends."
Looking to Sonja and offering her a small shake of the head, Walker decided it best to not press the issue further and move on to Thieves Landing.
Riding into Thieves Landing under a deep scarlet sky, Red Sonja couldn't shake the sense of unease that draped her like a cloak, her hand twitching towards her revolver or sword if her eye saw the slightest twitch around her. The She-Devil had seen no shortage of smuggler's dens in her travels, and this one was not so different as to be the cause of her unease. Such things as seedy buildings, armed cutthroats, and the lecherous stares directed her way were all the same as Hyboria. As in her homeland, Sonja would seek to complete her business here and be on her way, but in the back of her mind she could not help but think of business that was not her own, a task given by that sharply dressed stranger.
Such omniscience could be come to by means of sorcery, Sonja knew, but Walker made it clear that such things did not exist in this land. Walker was in no mood to discuss the matter of the man either, seemingly as perturbed by his words as Sonja herself. Pondering the words spoken to her, Sonja decided that what the strange man said to Walker was similarly a matter he had no desire to discuss.
Pushing all thoughts related to the peculiar encounter aside, Sonja steered her mount to a hitching post, smoothly sliding off her saddle and securing the horse to the post. Adjusting her gloves and casting a wary glance at the men who had stopped to gawk at the new arrivals, and Sonja doubted their interest lay in her armaments.
Paying them no mind, Sonja turned instead to Walker, who joined her while his cool blue eyes cast and appraising gaze at all those who had taken an interest in the pair. "Shall we go find Irish, Calamity Dame?" he asked, voice tense.
The Hyrkanian gave a curt nod, "The sooner we do, the sooner we can be on our way." Walker then turned towards the nearest saloon before Sonja, memories of the Stranger rushing back to mind, reached out and wrapped his arm in an iron grip, preventing the man from taking a single step. Sonja locked eyes with Walker for a moment before she summoned her voice, tersely asking, "Is it wise to go there?"
Sonja could see that the Bounty Hunter was tense, but did not back down. "Where else would that Patty be?"
Conceding that he had a point, the Hyrkanian's grip slackened and she followed the gunslinger across the muddy road through the center of Thieves Landing towards the building marked 'Saloon.' With each step, Sonja's conundrums tried to rationalize the thoughts plaguing her, there was no magic in this land, the enigmatic man could not know what his friend would be doing in half a days ride in both time and distance, nor would any rational man make such an odd request to two strangers. All that was about to happen, Sonja told herself, was that they would walk in, find Irish, likely drunk, and have Irish take the pair to the ammo he had found before promptly leaving.
Upon weaving their way through the throngs of people, horses, and wagons, the pair found themselves on the steps of the Saloon. Unlike the one frequented by the two in Deming, this one made no attempts at being upstanding, instead seeming to revel in the seediness that oozed from every pore of its wooden construction. Milling about outside, flaunting themselves in smallclothes of silk were the whores who plied their trade on the patrons of the saloon. One of the prostitutes, Sonja noted, was a redheaded woman in an outfit not unlike her own, prompting the Hyrkanian to scowl as the two women exchanged heated glares.
Looking to Walker, Sonja saw that he was staring intently at one of the women and felt a flicker of anger well up as she turned to see who had captured his eye. When she did, Sonja realized her error, for it was not the buxom woman with amber skin and raven hair that he was looking at, but the man speaking to her. He was fairly well dressed, waist length jacket and tailored trousers, but Sonja could hear the slur in his speech as he spoke to the woman. "You're something else sweetheart, my wife never talks to me like you do anymore…."
Sonja's eyes widened, and she turned towards Joshua with her mouth agape. The Bounty Hunter, by contrast, had his jaw clenched, and before the Hyrkanian had a chance to speak, he approached the man and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, mister," interrupted Walker, Sonja watching intently, curious how the man would proceed.
The drunken man turned towards Walker, lips pursed, "Yeah, what the hell do you want?"
Despite his hostility, Walker stood firm, "Look, don't ask how, but I know what you're about to do," began the gunfighter candidly before shaking his head, "You don't want to do this."
"The hell you talkin' about?" asked the man, ire rising.
But Tombstone, noticed Sonja, remained calm, "You know what I'm talking about, mister." The Hyrkanian found herself intrigued, wondering what her companion might advise the man. "Just want to say that I don't think you should go through with it. Your wife? She loves you. Having a woman that loves you is a special thing; you don't want to throw it away."
Sonja was as struck by his words as the man Walker had been speaking to, who stood there gob smacked for a moment until he finally regained his wits and stepped away from the wanton woman. "Mister," he said, "I don't know who, or what, you are, but… I'm guess I'm grateful." His chin dipped and shoulders slumped, "Suppose you're right, I was raised better 'an this."
"Don't mention it," replied Walker before slipping past the man, Sonja following close behind. She couldn't find the words, but seeing the only man she had laid with speak those words with such conviction warmed her heart and brought a smile to her lips, even as she followed him towards the door of the saloon.
The pair didn't enter however, as a slurred shout with a distinct accent reached their ears and caused them to walk past the entrance and around the corner, where Sonja laid her eyes on a deplorable sight. Standing in the alleyway with his back to them, swaying drunkenly on wobbly legs, though those were more steady than the hand that held his tarnished revolver, if only just. "Up sister. Put. Them. Up!" he slurred, jerking his pistol skyward.
The targets of the man's drunken rampage were two slight women, bodies draped in black cloaks with white hoods leaving only their shocked faces exposed as they held their hands up in surrender. Before the Hyrkanian could act, Walker's furious voice roared through the alley, "Irish! What are you doing?"
"Who the hell are you?" asked the foreigner as he swung the gun towards the approaching Joshua.
The Bounty Hunter, unfazed, snatched the revolver out of the man's hand, "Gimme that," snapped Walker, "I'm your old friend, amnesia." With that, he swung the purloined pistol, whipping the man across the face with the butt of his own gun and causing him to cry out in pain while he dropped to one knee. Tossing the revolver aside, Walker wrapped an arm around the foreign man's throat, clasping both hands together and wrenching Irish back to his feet before growling into his ear. "You ever pretend to forget our names or your debts again, and I'll make sure you reach heaven before these two ladies. Now get down there!"
With those words, Tombstone shoved the man down the alley, the drunken man tumbling to a stop at Sonja's feet. Rubbing his head, Irish gave a weary laugh, "Ah! Mr. Walker," he began, craning his neck to lay eyes on the cross-armed Hyrkanian and his lips twisted into a lecherous grin, "Sonja, how lovely to see ya again, lassie. How are you?"
"Ashamed," answered the Hyrkanian, spitting on the rat of a man, "Ashamed to know you."
"The hell's wrong with you?" pressed Walker, the ire filling his voice, "Robbing these gentlewomen and ladies of the Lord?"
"I thought they was doxies!" protested the arms dealer, arms limply raised off the ground.
The two women, clutching one another, gasped at the man's feeble defense, and Sonja felt herself scowl once more at the despicable Irish. "Ladies," began Walker, voice calm and diplomatic once more, "I'm sorry about this man, he's unfortunately lost his mind to the demon drink."
"I hope he has," added Sonja, her disdain laid bare, "And he wasn't this stupid all along."
"Indeed," agreed Walker before he turned back to the pair of priestesses, "So ah… please excuse us." Taking the cue, the pair of women shuffled through the alley, past the sprawled out Irish while casting furtive glances at Sonja.
Once they were around the corner and out of earshot, Sonja cracked her knuckled and hauled Irish up to his feet and threw him against the wall of the saloon. "Now, Irish, we have no ammunition for the Gatling Gun, and it is of no use. I find this rather upsetting, do you not?"
Putting more of her strength to use, Sonja coaxed a pained wince from the man, "Heartbreaking," groaned the arms dealer. The Hyrknian relinquished her hold on the man, and he dropped to a knee, shaking his head and collecting his revolver before continuing, "Which is why I was just coming to see the tae of ya' when the drink got the better of me." Stretching and groaning, Irish stuffed his pistol back into the waistband of his trousers. "Come on," he beckoned, tenderly taking a step towards the alley's exit, "I know where we's can find tae parts for ya's." Taking a second step with a pronounced limp, the man cursed, "Mother feckin' Mary."
At a slow pace dictated by the shuffling Irish, the trio wove through the haphazardly arranged buildings of Thieves Landing. "Whew, that fresh air got me head spinin' like a top," exclaimed Irish as the foreign man braced himself on the corner of a building, "Can't be good for a fella."
"Shut up, you lazy drunk," growled Walker, "Before I stop your head spinin' with a bullet."
"I resent that, Joshy," retorted the Irishman, "I been workin' like a beaver on yers behalfs."
"Working like a weasel on our behalf," corrected Sonja, contempt clear. "Accosting defenseless women of the cloth? You must've been raised on sour milk."
"What're yae talkin' about? I'm a good Catholic boy!" he protested.
Sonja would not allow the rat to feign innocence. "You're a booze blind coward!"
Before the argument could devolve further, Walker cut in, "Where're we going, Irish?"
"Just o'er to the warehouse here in Thieves Landing. I'm tellin' you Joshy boy, it's all set up," assured the craven. "We're meetin' this pal o' mine who works there. Hobble-tongued fellow by the name a Shaky."
"And he has the ammunition we require?" pressed Sonja, wishing above all that Walker and her had not come all this way for naught.
"Jesus, stop frettin,' will ya' lassie?" moaned Irish, "I know about guns front, back, and sideways."
"And you'll be real familiar with the business end of mine if it turns out you're just yankin' our chains, Irish."
But the man ignored the Bounty Hunter's threat as he led them around a corner, "Alright, we're almost there, see?" he said, pointing to a large storehouse situated beside a courtyard filled with stacks of crates that towered over the surrounding fence. "Stay close," slurred the arms dealer before the group crossed the street and arrived at the large gate, which the Irishman gave a weighty tug. The wood didn't budge at his first effort, nor his second. Letting out a guttural groan, all that he did was bang a vindictive fist against the gate, "Damn it! That stuttering bastard said this would be open." Sonja watched the man turn around to face the fighters, chuckling nervously, "Ah well, we'll have tae go 'round back. Shaky's probably just waitin' for us there."
Following the fence towards the storehouse, Irish turned back to face Sonja, corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "I'm startin' tae think you're soft on me, Lassie. Can't even sneeze these days without yae bein' there to catch the drips."
"Only so long as you are of use to us, you good for nothing shyster," corrected Sonja, bristling at the insinuation in Irish's words.
"Ah!" cried Irish, clutching his chest exaggeratedly, "You wound me, lassie… hear that?" he asked, tone suddenly changing as he swiftly sobered. Sonja stopped, her own head tilting as she listened for anything amiss, but could hear nothing over the commotion from the saloon a few streets over, as well as the shouts and steps of those out and about. "Keep your eyes open. Shaky's alright but I don't trust the gang o' fools he runs with."
Tensing at the possibility that battle might be afoot, Sonja's hands drifted towards the weapons on her belt as they slowly ascended a set of steps towards a door when a pained but muffled scream could be heard through the wall, bringing the group to a halt. Treading carefully, the three neared the top of the steps and Irish pressed his ear to the door, though Sonja needed to do no such thing to hear the beating taking place inside. "Sounds like Shaky's gone and gotten himself found out," whispered the drunkard.
The Hyrkanian could barely make out the haughty laugh of a man inside, "Alright, now all we gotta find out is who you're working with. You hear me Shaky, you wretched fucking son of a whore?"
"Su-su-su-suck my…."
"Again!" cut off the first man as the beating resumed in earnest, blows and grunts audible through the door.
"Labor relations don't sound like they're exactly… at an all time high," mused Irish quietly before the group retreated back down the steps until they could no longer hear the beating being administered inside.
Walker looked to Sonja with a steely gaze, "We'll get Shaky out of there," his eyes narrowed and turned to Irish, "You get a wagon. Don't. Run. Off," intoned Walker coldly, finger pressing into the smaller man with each word. "Got it?"
"Yeah, Joshy boy, jeez, laying off me from time to time won't kill ye, ya' know?" replied Irish, trying to take a step back, only for Sonja to impede his retreat.
"But running might just get you killed Irish," threatened the Bounty Hunter before taking a step back and drawing one of his revolvers. Breaking it open to ensure it was loaded, Joshua then asked the alcoholic, "This gang Shaky's in with, tell me about 'em."
"Real mean, nasty lot, proper pit of vipers, they is. They're tae ones who stole that Gatling Gun I found for yas, blackmailed a captain to get it," answered Irish, the words coming out in an exaggerated whisper. "That's how they got all the bullets for it too, extorted a quartermaster… after they killed the man he replaced."
"Then they are worthy of neither pity, nor mercy," surmised Sonja, fist clenched tight as she wrapped the other around the hilt of her sword and drew the blade, steel gleaming in the setting sun. "We shall strike them all down and free your man."
Sonja smirked at the way Irish's eyes widened at the sight of her steel and, slowly, the foreigner backed away. "Good luck ya two. He's a good man, that Shaky," wished Irish before finally turning and scampering away, stumbling over his own feet as he went.
When he was around the corner, the Hyrkanian turned back towards Tombstone, "How d'ya want handle these folks, Calamity Dame? See if we can find a way in through the roof?" he suggested, nodding towards a ladder on the side of the building.
But the She-Devil was in no mood for such stratagems, brandishing her own sword and scattergun, she replied, "My fury will be delayed no longer. Our foes reside on the other side of that door," said the Hyrknanian, sword pointed up at it, "The quickest way to them is to go straight through it."
The man's answer was a mirthless chuckle as he snapped his Schofield closed and drew his off-hand weapon. "After you, Calamity Dame," he drawled.
Grinning, Sonja turned and crept up the steps, not so keen to discard any surprise despite her desire to force battle upon the outlaws on the other side of the door she approached. Taking up station on one side of it, the redhead looked back to Walker, his spurs softly chiming as he gave Sonja a curt nod, hands tensing around the grips of his weapons. Feeling her blood running hot in her veins, Sonja unleashed a vicious kick that splintered the thin door, the tattered remnants swaying open to reveal a trio of startled men standing over a bloody and bruised one tied to a chair.
Leaping towards the nearest man, Sonja brought her sword down on him in a flash of steel that sliced through flesh. With one man stuck down by her blade, the Hyrkanian extended her right hand and leveled the shotgun she held at a man with wide eyes, planting a blast in her chest that blew him off his feet. The twin barreled twelve gauge swung to the last man standing, but he dove behind a cabinet right as Sonja fired, and the barrage of buckshot shattered the glass window overlooking the storehouse floor. The man scooped up the rifle leaning against the desk he sought refuge behind and emerged with the gun raised, only for a pair of rapid pistol shots to ring out as Walker swept into the room, Schofields smoking as the last brigand slumped to the floor, blood painting the wall behind him.
"Th-th-thank ya' kindly," stuttered the man tied to the chair. "Now g- g- g- get these ropes off me before the rest show up!" Walker had his knife out while Sonja flicked the latch of her shotgun with a thumb before tucking the weapon under her swordarm and levering it open. While she pulled out and replaced the spent shells, the Bounty Hunter set about releasing Shaky. "I th-th-th-th-th-thank you for your kindness, m-m-mister and m-misses. I th-th-th-thought I was a dead man."
"Our kindness is only as good as the bullets you're gonna fetch up for us and your friend, Irish. Let me down, and you will be a dead man," promised Tombstone.
A shot cut off any answer Shaky might've had, and all three ducked down, Sonja snapping the shotgun breech closed as Walker joined her under the shattered window. "Yo-yo-your bullets are do-do-do-down there," provided the bruised man as he went for the rifle. "You want them? It's gonna be one-one-one-one helluva fight." Peeking up through the windows, Sonja counted near a dozen men appear, a few firing errant rounds towards the office as they ducked behind the crates and items stored on the storehouse floor below. It seemed that the smugglers were in no mood to press their advantage in numbers, content to cower and hope their bullets would drive off the trio, and that was a hope by which Sonja would not abide.
"They're thick out there, we need to think of…" began Walker, only Sonja, having already felt the clash and sting of battle, was in no mood for a pause to strategize. Holstering her shotgun, the Hyrkanian scampered along the floor to the chair Shaky and been tied to, grasping a leg on the chair before turning and heaving it through the window, sending the glass to the floor below.
Bellowing a Hyborian war cry, Sonja threw herself after the chair, leaping out the shattered window with her sword held high and coming down on a bewildered bandit below. Surprised at his presence, the redhead responded by lashing out with her boot as the man tried to raise his gun, Sonja kicked his head back before driving the tip of her blade into his chest. Crashing to the storehouse floor, Sonja dragged the impaled man behind a nearby crate as more bullets ripped through the air around her before she yanked her blood-soaked sword free. Now unencumbered, the Hyrkanian sprinted forwards, ducking and weaving as more gunfire erupted from the men ahead of her.
Unable to advance further in the face of the hail of lead filling the air around her, Sonja turned back and looked to the office, waiting for Walker to make his presence felt. "Let me introduce you sons of bitches to my p-p-p-p-p-p-pal, Mr. Rifle!" shouted Shaky as he fired back at his former comrades. This, Sonja saw, drew the fire to him as the duster draped Walker slipped out of the enclosure and raised a pistol, able to take aim unmolested, with deadly results. Peeking an eye around the crate that offered her refuge, Sonja saw a bandit fall each time she heard Joshua fire his pistol.
When three men fell, the others took note and sought shelter from the Bounty Hunter, and the Hyrkanian did not hesitate to seize this opportunity. She charged forwards towards a crate she knew a bandit cowered behind and threw all her strength into it, tipping it over as the man screamed and tried to dive away before being crushed underneath. Clambering atop the container and turning, Sonja was faced with a pair of men who stood, mouth agape. It was she who acted first, leaping from her perch and swinging her sword down on the nearer man, slashing him across the chest as he stumbled aside. Bearing down on the second, Sonja pulled the pommel of her blade down near her hip before thrusting it up and through the belly of the second man. Screaming in pain, the impaled bandit let his gun clatter to the floor as he sliced his own fingers open in a vain effort to pull the blade out while Sonja continued to drive it further in.
A flicker of movement caught Sonja's attention as she looked over her shoulder and saw the man she had slashed gathering himself, his tattered, blood soaked shirt hanging off him as he went for his gun. Reacting with furious speed and elegant grace, Sonja withdrew her sword and grabbed it by the blade as she twirled around, swinging her weapon, the Hyrkanian clubbed the wounded man across the head, shattering his jaw with one strike. Without pausing to watch his lifeless body crumple, Sonja pivoted on one foot and swung the sword overhead at the second man. Between her strength and gravity, the impact caved in his skull with all the fury Sonja could instill in the strike.
The roar of an uncomfortably close gunshot and the zip of a bullet speeding past had Sonja ducking and turning to see the man trapped under the toppled crate taking aim at the Hyrkanian with a revolver. Before he could adjust his aim and fire again, Sonja smoothly pulled her own pistol from its holster and took aim, firing just as much by instinct as with the sights. Her shot found its mark, body twitching from the impact before blood began to pool on the floor below him.
Climbing atop a crate to peer over a yet bigger container, Sonja could see the remaining bandits abandon their positions and flee towards the gaping maw of the exit. Before they could escape, Walker skidded into sight and raised both of his Schofields, firing a salvo of shots into the retreating Bandits, scattering them as Sonja came to join him. Together, they advanced towards the entrance of the storehouse when a barrage of bullets forced them to cower behind the stone slab of the building. Walker poked his head up, only to promptly duck back down as chips of rock were blown away by the bandits' answering bullets. "They're all huddled up behind that lumber over there, but they got us all bottled up," he growled as he broke open and reloaded one of his weapons.
Looking about, Sonja's eyes settled on one of the strange oil lanterns used to illuminate the storehouse and scooped it up, "Get ready to shoot," she told Walker as she held the item up for his benefit. She saw understanding dawn on his features as he snapped the Schofield closed and gave her a nod. Biding her time until there was a lull in the ferocity of the bandits' attacks, the Hyrkanian seized the moment when it arrived, standing and hurling the lantern through the air towards the gathering of outlaws. Walker stood alongside and took aim, Sonja feeling her heart race as she watched the glowing lantern tumble through the air until the echo of a gunshot rang in her ear and the lantern exploded, casting flaming oil down upon the brigands.
Terrified, the cowards scampered from their hole like rats, into the waiting pistols of Walker and Sonja, who both fired until their guns were fully emptied and the whole lot of them lay dead in the courtyard. "Go-go-go-go-good job! You two to-to-tore through them like they was nothin!" exclaimed Shaky as he jogged up. "Come on, the ammo for you is stashed right o-o-o-o-over there!"
Weaving their way through the courtyard and the various supplies in it, Shaky led them to a tarp draped stack of boxes before dramatically pulling the covering aside to reveal at least ten boxes stamped with the same 'Federal Government Issue' as the ones holding the Gatling Gun. Picking up a crowbar, Shaky then pried the lid off one to reveal it contained 20 of the magazines for feeding the machine gun, and picking one up to inspect it, Sonja could tell from its weight alone that it was filled with cartridges.
Before any words could be said, there was a banging on the gate of the courtyard, "I know that couldn't kill you Tombstone! Open up, I brought tae wagon for ye two." Sonja could see Walker slouch at the voice of Irish before trudging off to grant him entrance, and it was not long before the arms dealer had parked the wagon and watched as Walker and Sonja loaded up the ammunition while he haggled with Shaky.
"Now we're even," asserted the stuttering man as the last crate was loaded.
"Half even, Shaky," corrected Irish, "You still owe me for them morphine pills to 'calm your nerves.' Shh-shh-shh-Shaky," mocked the alcoholic.
A scowl appeared on Shaky's face, "You'll get your half, more you d-d-dirty f-f-fucking snake!"
"B-b-b-b-b-better!" mimicked Irish before Walker turned and put himself between the two men.
"Alright gentlemen, let's go!" snapped the Bounty Hunter, a stern look from Tombstone enough to coax both men into backing off.
While Walker, Sonja, and Irish clambered into the wagon, the Hyrkanian could hear a call of "Fu-fu-fu-fuckin' fuck…" chase them out the gate.
"Oh my virgin ears," bemoaned Irish as he gave the reins a flick and got them moving.
Closing Notes: Closing in on the home stretch now, I wanted to take the time to introduce another side character, and this won't be the last we see of this enigmatic individual. Still, next chapter will focus on getting ready to take on Fort Cassidy, expect that in the usual time frame.
Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.