Snuggled up together, two wicked souls laid under a grand pine atop a blooming hill, covered by an ocean of bright colors - flowers coming to life after the cold season. Despite the passing of winter, the weather remained freezing in the northeastern Kazdelian wildlands, causing their breaths to condense into tiny droplets of water, turning to a gentle fog.

"... How much longer?"

"You're asking me?"

"Right. You don't see them coming or anything…?"

"No."

"Pfft… We should've just done this my way from the beginning. Wouldn't be sitting out here in the cold."

"We've been doing things your way for the past three months."

"And?"

"And? And we had a brush with death every single day, moron."

"Hey, don't call me a moron, Lawie. Don't forget who's the leader here. And don't forget we're sitting at the edge of a very steep cliff and that I'm stronger than you. Y'know, would be a shame if I just-..."

"Shhh! Shut up, they're here."

Approaching from the east, down in the pristine valley below, was a pair of figures; one large and tall, carrying the other, small and weak. The carried, with hair long and luscious, the carrying, with a head shaven clean. Covered in bandages and bruises, dragging behind a single sword, resting in its sheath and wildly swinging from a leather strap. The tall figure's stride was fast, hurriedly skipping through the endless meadows of green and worriedly whispering words of comfort to their companion, resting their wounded head against the colossus' chest. Atop the hill, W couldn't help but yawn.

"Alright, that's them, I reckon. Shoot 'em."

Andy scoffed and turned from his rifle's scope, giving the bored man an annoyed glare.

"It's not as easy as "shoot 'em, Lawie, scalp 'em Lawboy, bring me half the bounty." I need them to get into position."

He sighed in exasperation and crawled away from the boy, grabbing a pair of binoculars.

"I thought this grand plan of yours was supposed to be easier than my way of doing things."

"'Cause it is, moron. I just need them to pass that creek down there."

"Creek? Why, you want them to have a nice last view?"

"No! So I can get a clean shot, shit for brains."

W smacked him across the head. Andy returned the favor by kicking the merc in the shin, as hard as he could.

"Oh, that does it."

A few seconds later, W was already on top, straddling the poor boy and pressing his face into the cold, hard ground with the sole of his combat boot. Andy let out a few yelps of pain and desperately tried reaching for a knife or Nuffer, to no avail. The merc twisted his arm back, sending spirals of pain through his entire nervous system.

"Alright, f-... Stop, I get it! Stop, for Law's sake…"

"Say "Sorry", Lawboy."

"Sorry for what?!"

"For calling me an idiot, when I'm the smarter of us two."

"Fuck you, you're not!"

His halo dimmed for just a second as a new kind of pain struck his head. Seems like the mighty power of the Law itself just flicked his forehead for swearing.

"I clearly am. I'm the one on top, no?"

"Pffff…"

Andy couldn't deny his reasoning as he tried wiggling out of the madman's grasp. Again, to no avail.

"You know, I'm still waiting for my apology. Or we could just sit here 'till the sun goes down… That'd be romantic, no?"

"Can you just stop with your bullshit for one day?! Seriously, this is getting annoying."

"Still waiting."

The boy let out a long, drawn out sigh of frustration, preparing himself to utter those pathetic words of defeat.

"... I'm sor-..."

"SHHHH! Wait, wait, wait…"

W's sharp, orange eyes focused back on the pair down in the valley. The large figure's pace turned rapid, desperately dragging itself and its injured partner through the plains, as if running, frantically trying to escape from some unforeseen threat. As his gaze narrowed even further, the hoofbeat of a dozen mighty burdenbeasts echoed through the valley, sending chills down the merc's spine, washing his smug smirk right off.

"... Fuck, there's company. See, told you, I kept saying we should've brought… Well, Hedley at the very least. Up, Lawboy, some grade F mercs are trying to snatch my bounty…"

He dragged Andy back to his rifle and laid right by his side, eyes glued to the pair of binoculars. The boy was surprised at the sudden change in attitude, but couldn't really complain. It was better than another violent roll in the grass.

"Hear that?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Burdenbeasts. Cheapest form of transportation, I tell you. 'Cept for the merc lines, but that's like comparing apples and oranges."

W licked his thumb and stuck it forward, catching the cool breeze.

"Mmm… Light wind from the west, got it?"

"Uuuuh-huh…"

"Hey!"

W flicked the boy's ear, pointing down at the valley.

"We're doing this your way, so at least focus! Three… No, four riders coming in, should be in our sight in a moment."

"How can you even tell?"

"I can tell, 'cause there's cash at play. And as I said, these bottom scraping vultures ain't taking my pay."

He stuck his eyes back into the binoculars and pointed towards a commotion arising from the east.

"There! Swine, deadbeats, losers… Throw me a few synonyms."

"Uh… Fizzers?"

"Yeah, that. Alright, you got a clean shot on 'em?"

"Nay."

"Ah, right. Creek."

W prepped his head up on his hands, elbows touching the ground. As they both laid there on their stomachs, his feet flew up in the air, dangling and flailing hyperactively.

Far in the distance, the distressed giant kept running, clutching onto their wounded comrade in the face of the approaching danger. A group of riders clad in bright garments, each of them a different color. The one leading the charge, with armor so bright and grand, light gleaming off its golden plating, had a bow in their mighty hands, taking aim to deliver a final blow of justice.

Right by his side, a deathly presence, their burdenbeast pale and skinny, malnourished beyond belief. Clad in robes dark as night, brandishing a grand scythe adorned by various numerals and unreadable passages, only for the daunting jockey to recognize and appreciate.

On his left, a manly, colossal figure, straddling a beast as crimson as the hellfire that fills the deepest pits of the infernal abyss far below. Locked for eternity in a chainmail of the same tinge, the rider had a sword twice his size ready by his side, aimed at the helpless figure in front.

Finally, the last of them all, trotting far behind on a beast so fatty and obese that it couldn't physically keep up with the rest. Their gigantic, plump figure sprawled out on top of the burdened beast, flailing around a pair of scales and wildly screaming out words of encouragement to their allies. Hooves thumped against the ground, shaving off the distance between them and the battered escapees, bringing the devils ever so closer together.

As the bandaged colossus jumped past the creek flowing gleefully down the valley, they dropped their wounded comrade and reached for their sword from behind in a desperate attempt to fend off the attackers. A last stand against all odds. The blade left its sheath with a loud, metallic creak, its glistening surface catching the sun's bright rays and sending them frolicking across the posse's gaze. The riders stopped right in front, their beast's hooves submerged within the shallow creek below. The idol of gold spoke.

"Lay thy iron down, 'o harbinger of death. Thy fate's sealed and thy work has already been done. You called and we obeyed. Death is here."

A low murmur arose from within their robes, as if not their mouth were producing the noise but something far within their very souls. The fatso cackled, becoming more and more labored with each of their movements, each little twitch heavy and uneven, as if their body was bound to collapse at any given moment.

"Yeah, no runnin' fer ya, big fella. Lay 'er down 'n come face the reaper like a real man, ya sissy."

The bandaged man only took a step back, protectively covering the long haired woman behind from the fiends' gazes. He did not speak, didn't even utter a single word. With an expression of pure anger and desperation painted on his face, he simply clutched the weapon tighter, preparing to protect the one he loved so much.

A gentle rattle of bones filled the air as the figure clad in black robes dismounted their beast, propping themselves up against the scythe and hobbling to the front. Its face remained completely invisible as it approached, speaking in a low murmur, words aimed at no one in particular.

"No one runs. Not one escapes. Many tried, all failed. To take is human, to give, divine. None wish to ascend, forcing the reaper's hand… Forcing to reap what they had sowed. A stranger's harvest. Forcing to… To seek, to find and to take. To take by force…"

The figure's advance was cut short by the wounded man's sword, nearly decapitating the doomsayer. Through his gritted teeth, words of pure hatred and anger seeped out, to the rider's amusement.

"I'm not your toy, fiends. Never will be. If you want to take me, there will be a fight."

He assumed a certain stance, one foot in front of the other, the sword's pommel placed against his chest.

"And don't expect me to hold back."

A loud, violent chuckle erupted from the last of the fiends, the one clad in armor as red as the blood seeping from the determined man's wounds.

"Do you seriously think you can take all four of us on? You… Bruised, battered, pathetic… Dragged through the gutter and abandoned by all. Absolutely alone. You're committing suicide."

The man glanced behind himself, at the frail, weak woman cowering behind his towering physique. He shook his head.

"I'm never alone."

The fiends clutched onto their weapons, letting out growls and wails of scorn, preparing themselves to tear this fool apart. He felt his heartbeat speeding up, blood boiling within, a deep, growing rage forming within his head, begging to be unleashed.

Before their brawns could meet in a clash to the death, a swift projectile swished through the air and landed in the creek, right at the fiends' feet. Sending a splash of water into the air, it threw them completely off balance, sending their eyes spinning, wildly scanning the entire valley.

"Fucker's got fire support! 'S a trap!"

The man seemed a bit confused himself, his stance wavering. A second later, his sharp wits grasped the opportunity and he took a step forward, standing at the very edge of the creek.

"That's right, you mongrels! I am NEVER alone! Not in the face of death, not ever!"

Another projectile landed right by the fiends' burdenbeasts, causing them to neigh in disapproval and shift anxiously. The riders were at an impasse.

"Doesn't mean shit! We've got you cornered, four to two, that's still…"

A bullet hit the fiend's crimson armor, piercing his foot and sending a stream of blood leaking down the creek. He grasped his leg in pain and let out a long, feverish wail, barely managing to take a step back.

"Keep running! Keep running, you two! Death catches up to everyone! I reap what you sow! I-..."

Swish. Splash. Three more bullets painted a nice outline around the fiends, as they hurriedly mounted their beasts and ran off, sending clouds of dust flying into the air.

"Wait! Wait, ya fuckers! Wait fer me! Don't leave me 'ere!"

The gluttonous fiend kept wailing as their mount could barely keep itself above a light trot. It took a couple of minutes before their hoofbeat had finally died down, leaving the man surrounded by nothing but pure, pristine silence. Blood kept boiling within his veins, filling his ears with a loud ringing and slowly but surely turning his legs to mush.

He let go of the sword and hurried over to his sweetheart, dropping to his knees by her side. So eager to check on her, to make sure she's fine, still alive and well. Amongst their sweet words of reassurance, their happiness and relief, one matter remained unresolved. The man stood up, turning towards the direction from which the shots came from. Seeking out the glimmer of a scope with his gaze, he smiled warmly towards the mysterious stranger, the shooter who had just saved his life. Was it a divine intervention? A guardian angel sent from the heavens above, to serve and protect? It didn't matter. He raised his hand high above his head, giving a slight wave of thanks and acknowledgement.

The shooter returned the gesture by sending a bullet straight into his brain.

Far, far away, high above the valley, a devil put down his pair of binoculars and let out a mocking snort.

"Pfft. Finally. See, that's what happens with folk who try to fuck with my bounties. Fuck off and find your own damn easy pickings, you… What was the word?"

"Fizzers?"

"Yeah, fizzers! Ha!"

W dusted his hands off and stood up, picking Andy up by the scruff and roughly helping him stand.

"Now c'mon, Lawie, there's a pic to take."

…

Upon making their way down through the breezy, northern forests, the two found themselves standing in the middle of the serene valley, surrounded by blooming meadows and mountains watching from afar. W took a glance around the place, an unnaturally calm smile stretching across his face, replacing the usual sadistic grin.

"... It's kinda nice. Makes you appreciate the few benefits of mercenary life."

"Uh-huh. You sure you're alright? Looking kinda… Tame, here."

"Oh, screw you."

"And now you're censoring yourself? By Law…"

As they approached their destination, W's smirk grew more and more sinister at the sound of a woman crying in the distance. Slumped over the half-headless body of her lover, the woman didn't even bother turning towards the two as they drew near.

"..."

"..."

Amidst her weeping, Andy felt a tinge of awkwardness, especially amplified by W's behavior, who didn't seem bothered by her cries at all.

"'Scuse me, missy, can you just… just move aside? Hello? HEY! I'm talking to you?"

He sighed in exasperation, holding his camera.

"... Lawie, can you get her out of the frame? She's ruining the shot."

"Meaning? What do you even want me to do?"

"I dunno? You're the one with a gun, no? I left mine back at camp. And no, I'm not hitting a woman. Even I of all people have some standards, believe it or not."

Andy stared at the woman for a few more seconds, before shrugging and reaching for his holster, grasping Nuffer by the handle. With a swift movement, he racked the slide back and pointed the gun towards the grieving figure.

"... Or, actually, wait."

His finger froze on the trigger.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. As much as I'd love to see you blow her brains out all over this pretty little meadow... Ammo's expensive, Lawie. You should know that by now. I'll just snag a pic and keep her in frame for dramatic effect, hehe…"

Click!

The camera kept shuttering as W walked around the body, taking pictures from each angle. Once done, they simply left the widow with the corpse, taking off, feeling content with a job well done.

…

…

"Lawie?"

"Mmm?"

"You weren't hesitating back there."

"Uh… huh? And?"

"And you were gonna just nail her in the head, huh?"

"Yeah? She was in the way."

"I honestly though you'd just shove her or something. That's cold, Lawboy."

He gave a grim chuckle and affectionately punched the boy in the shoulder.

"... You know what? In a way, you're more sarkaz than most devils I know. Hell, most of them mongrels I've ever met, even!"

Accompanied by a cacophony of his cold laughter, the two carried on with their march back to camp, Andy's mind buzzing with an uncertain storm of thoughts.

W's words kept ringing in his ears, replayed constantly, over and over in his muddled head. Leaving him searching and asking for an answer to a question he couldn't even fully articulate.

"More sarkaz than most devils."

They kept echoing all throughout the day.

Throughout the sleepless night.

And throughout the entire following week.