Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 10

Walker watched as Heritage Front and Weaver mages were loaded onto prisoner transport vehicles. Omega Six and his group had gone, orders from Walker. Make yourself scarce, because the rest of the Feds were coming to pick up the pieces. Christa had informed the new agents of what had happened, letting them know to be on the look out for Hauptmann Yar'ow. They won, but lost the final prize. Walker took a deep breath as he sat on a crumbled pillar, his hand searching for his cigarettes, but a knowing look from Christa made him smile and drop his hand into his lap.

"Good work today, John."

"Yeah, well..." he paused as he looked over those who remained from the fight. They'd been through hell and back and survived. They'd have another shot. "Yar'ow ain't gettin' 'way, Christa. I'll either tag 'er, 'r you an' yer boys 're gonna. Either way, she just made life somethin' worth livin' fer just a little while longer."

"Words like that, you should consider joining Interpol," Christa said with a smile.

John Walker let out a laugh as he took out his flask and opened it. "I appreciate the offer, Miss Rayne. But I like what I'm doin' right now. Maybe in a couple more years..." he took a swig and handed the flask to Christa.

She took it carefully, taking a swig of her own before replying. "A couple more years? John, you're going to be ready to be put out to pasture by then."

He shook his head and sighed as Christa returned the flask. "As long as there's them like these, I ain't restin'. Can't put an ol' dog like me down." He pocketed the flask and looked directly at Chrlsta. "'Sides, gotta keep ya on yer toes somehow, 'Serge."

The End

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 9

Fire lapped at the base of the altar as the explosion from the LRM rocket destroyed half the platform. The Weavers returned fire, calling upon their magical abilities, reigning death upon their attackers. In return, machine guns gakked in response to the magical fire, grenades exploded sending guards retreating. It was one thing that has lived for the past one hundred years; yes, magical abilities are dangerous, but so is a man with an assault rifle and a keen eye. A unit of heavily armed soldiers will defeat a group like this easily. Fortunately, however, in the event that magical fire would break their ranks, they had some magical fire of their own, as Richard Adams had double duty, engaging with the mages and tending to wounds quickly and efficiently.

And the mages were starting to realize that. And suddenly, it only got worse.

Across the room from the small force, an explosion rocked the cavern. The newly created crater became the new escape route for the Heritage Front. And they started firing on Walker and his group once they caught sight of them. And the Weavers? They were merely caught in the cross fire. Realizing there was nothing they could do and no where else to go, they scrambled back to find safety away from the sudden war which had erupted in one of their enclave.

"Shit, I weren't expectin' this," Walker gritted his teeth as he rattled off a round toward the Heritage Front soldiers.

"Doesn't mean anything, Walker," Christa shouted. "Just means the targets have changed is all."

Morgan let loose with a volley from Ol' Painless, letting a group of Undead who had just shown up behind the soldiers have hell. Omega Six barked orders to his men as Interpol agents matched the volley. They had strategic cover, as they moved into place behind the security of a natural bunker, thanks to the cavern's formations. The Heritage Front were naked to the world, but creating a bunker of their own quickly.

A Gigantic Undead construct broke formation and ran toward the bunker, vaulting the small barrier and lashing out at Six. Everyone knew they couldn't train weapons at the beast simultaneously, they risked hitting each other. The slight hesitation gave way for one to attack. And Adams' magical attack on the construct gave Six time to unleash a volley into the beast. As the creature fell, Adams let out a knowing smile to Six. Maybe these boys wouldn't be too bad with Interpol, if they could get away from Illuminati. But there would be risks too great, Omega Six would have to make the final call.

Germaine launched another rocket toward the Heritage Front soldiers and his sharp eye picked up movement. Large movement. "Shit, man. We got heavies comin' in!"

Walker watched as the hulking mechs marched through the crater toward the line, firing as they caught sight of their targets. He looked over to Omega Six, his former comrade in Illuminati nodded signalling to one of his men. The ground shook as the blue grey units known as the Armoured Convoy rumbled into the cavern, returning the fire of the Front's Mechs easily. Bombs and bullets echoed in the close confines of the cavern, threatening to bring the ceiling down on them all. And again, Morgan's sharp eye caught more movement. He called out to Walker, pointing toward something moving in the shadows. Walker took up his binoculars and peered into the darkness. He sneered when he saw the figure of Hauptmann Yar'ow instructing a group as they carried some object.

"Christa!" he shouted. "Annie, Six! With me!" He vaulted the edge of the bunker and was quickly followed by those he called out, giving and receiving cover fire as they passed through the wave of Heritage Front soldiers. The three pursuing fired toward the Yar'ow and her men, but they were always just out of reach, even with their heavy burden. The cavern's twists and turns took an odd one, as suddenly it emptied into the sewer system, the sound of battle behind them growing faint, but they could tell the remaining men and women had the upper hand.

Six arrived first at a junction, slamming his shoulder into a steel door, wincing as the pain crept into his bones from the force. He looked to Walker and shook his head. The former gunslinger placed his palm on the steel and muttered a curse. "Damn thing's probably three feet thick an' we ain't got the ordinance ta blow it open." He could almost hear the mocking laughter from the other side as a faint roar of an engine could just barely be heard. "An' she's gettin' away."

Christa came up behind Walker and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep tabs, John. We'll watch the Heritage Front and see what turns up. She's gotta rear her ugly head sometime." Walker looked to her with defeat in his eyes, but took a deep breath and nodded. At least today they managed to take out a Weavers enclave and a Heritage Front cell. Though the main target had been lost, they had still managed a victory. The three began trudging back to the rest of the unit, the sounds of gunfire quickly coming to an end, signaling the battle had been won.

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 8

They stood on the crest of a hill in the valley that surrounded Bishop Hills, one last check of weaponry as they waited for reinforcements. A jeep pulled up, and a large black man stepped out, looking as though he really shouldn't fit inside. Walker nodded to him, recognizing Germaine Morgan even after all these years. Walker's attention was diverted as the whup whup whup of chopper blades began to fill the sky. An unregistered Black Hawk hovered near the ground as the gathered crowd hunkered down to avoid the updraft from the blades. Four soldiers stepped out, one approaching Walker as the others eyed the Christa and the federal and Interpol agents with suspicion. Operative Omega Six held out a hand to Walker, and wordlessly, it was understood that this day the gathered were allies, not enemies.

Walker took one deep breath as he looked to his comrades. Christa, Adams, Annie, Six, Germaine and the remaining agents, international agents and Illuminati. Weapons had been taken stock, the players were ready.

"Let's get this started."

*****

The guards stood around the obelisk with vigilance. They needed to protect it, to ensure it would not fall into the wrong hands. Mages would come and inspect the area, ensuring that there was no breach of their wards. One such mage was there today. He was detailing the affects of the obelisk carefully.

A small rumble distracted him. It could have been an earth tremor. But...

It grew closer.

Someone was coming.

The door to the chamber exploded into a million splinters. Heritage Front agents rushed in, cutting down the guards quickly. The mage held his hands up as he realized that there was no way he could fight back. And he scowled as the protagonist made her appearance.

"Word on the street's tha' there's a prime bounty fer this piece," Hauptmann Yar'ow announced casually as she trained a pistol on the mage. "In particular, a man who gunned down one o' yer sect. Pity tha' really."

"What are you doing?"

"Ye used tha' ta bring me 'ere," Yar'ow grinned maliciously. "Well, it seem that it would be rightfully mine. An' I come ta take tha' which is."

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 7

Walker stood to one side as Federal and Interpol agents swept the area. Doctor Richard Adams also arrived on the scene, tending to the wounds that both Walker and Annie had sustained, as well as dealing with the trauma the children had gone through. The aging gunslinger took out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply as he watched the men and women go over the area. From time to time one would look Walker's way, whispering something to a fellow agent. Then they both would nod and move on. No one came and spoke to him.

Except one person.

"Those things will kill ya, John," Christa said in a quiet voice.

"Trust me," Annie replied. "I've tried convincing him to quit."

"Rather this kill me," he said as he inhaled another drag. "Then get taken out by the likes o' these." He looked to Christa for a long moment, then nodded. "I do appreciate ya comin' here so quick."

"You know me," she said with a small smile. "Best damn team around. We get done what we need to."

John studied her again for a long moment, furrowing his brow as he caught something about her unfamiliar. "When ya start wearin' that, Chrlsta?"

"My hat? Always had the hat, John. You should know that."

"Ain't talkin' the hat," he said as he motioned to her ring finger. "Who'd you rope inta a life o' matrimony?"

"Maybe it wasn't me doing the roping," Christa replied with a grin. "Met him a few years ago, around the time you first dropped offa the face of the planet."

"Uh-huh," he replied simply as he took out a flask, opened it, took a swig and passed it over to Christa. He didn't need to get into details, that might lead to the embarrassing questions of why he hadn't settled down. "What do you an' yer boys know 'bout some agent name o' Yar'ow?"

"Before tonight, we never knew the Heritage Front had some new grunt," she replied as she took a swig and handed it back.

"Musta been summoned up recent, then," John stated as he recapped the flask and pocketed it. He took one last drag, dropped the cigarette and crushed it under foot. "Joker said somethin' 'bout a sect what's guardin' some object they used ta roust this Alow fer the Heritage Front. Can use it ta send 'er back."

"What are you asking, John?"

"I'd appreciate the help, Christa," he said in a quiet tone. "At first, me an' Annie thought it were somethin' simple. Gotten a helluvalot bigger."

Adams approached with the last comment. "The children are boarded and will be transported to the hospital immediately." He put away some of his supplies and added without looking to anyone in particular. "And if you require assistance, Mr. Walker, it may be high time you called in some of your favours."

"I already owe you 'nough, Doc."

"I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about those who do owe you."

Walker thought on this a moment, looked to Annie and then to Christa. "Gonna be a lotta shootin'."

"There usually is," Christa replied with a slow nod.

"Might need some heavy explosives."

"Why John," she replied with a sulty smile. "I'm a married woman. Get me all hot and bothered with talk like that."

"You in?"

"Yeah, I'm needing to get some real work done, too," the RCMP officer replied as she caught sight of John's hands. The man rubbed his hands through the gloves he wore, his posture not completely hiding a need for more sleep. She got to her feet and made her way over to John Walker.

"Give me your hands, John. No reason for you to go in stiffer than a... well, something," she finished with a knowing smile as she pulled one glove off and snapped her fingers. The air around her calloused hands warmed as she pressed the man's tired joints into the palm of her hands and rubbed gently. "Gotta have you in top condition."

He began to grumble something in reply, but Christa waved him off. "Don't you start grumbling at me. I got an arrest warrant and a shoebox full of pictures from Tijuana that'll keep you quiet long enough for me to help you. Besides, I'm almost a doctor." She finished her quick massage and placed his gloves back in his hands. "Where are we going now, Walker?"

Walker nodded, a small upward turn at the corners of his mouth the only indication of a smile. "An' by the way, Christa. Thanks fer not arrestin' us on sight."

She looked back to her men for a moment, watching them as they carefully detailed and accounted for the scene before looking back to John and whispering. "Six years ago. There was a package that were dropped off at Interpol headquarters. No name, and no address on it. Addressed to me. Information about Illuminati targets and such." She studied John's reaction for a moment, smiling as she caught just the slightest look in his eyes. "I should have busted your ass when we walked in here. But that package saved a lotta lives, John. Seems being a daddy's made you look at the world a different way."

John said nothing, but nodded in agreement. And so it was, Christa would bring her team. And John had those he could call on. There was Germaine Morgan, an old army buddy from the Persain Gulf. Operative Omega Six, still deep in Illuminati, but his group was close to breaking off and running for cover. He looked to Adams. Maybe the doctor would come too. He'd be helpful.

Walker stood up straight and put the mask back in place. He flexed his hands once or twice and nodded. "Twelve hours. Meet in Palo Duro. From there, we find this place."

"I'll have the information out of this one in three," Christa replied with a smile as she moved back toward her men. "I'll see you in six, John Walker."

Walker looked to Annie for a long moment. She was tired, but she knew that this wasn't over just yet. Besides, he had that feeling she'd follow him to the ends of the earth if need be. His crusade to save his soul, and she'd help him. Six hours would be enough for a rest.

And then the next phase of the battle could begin.

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 6

The location is near Bishop Hills, Mr. Walker. I'll provide you with some ammunition which will help a great deal against the forces you will face against.

An' aside from the finger wigglers, what're we lookin' at?

Some have said the Weavers have the ability to conjure spirits from the ethereal plane. Don't look at me like that, Mr. Walker, just nod and agree. These bullets will help. I was project lead when Stewart Aeronautics was developing new weapons technology. This is one of the developments. Never put into practicle use, but it can come in quite handy for your situation.

What 'bout usin' it against humans?

A silver bullet is just as effective against a human as it is against a werewolf, Mr. Walker. Use any object as a projectile, and it will cause severe damage.

Annie sprayed cover fire as Walker loaded up another clip, taking careful aim as a spook floated menicingly toward him. The bullets Richard Adams gave them were working with perfection. If they weren't field tested much before, they were getting it now. "How many clips ya got left, Annie?" Walker shouted over to his partner.

"Eight, sir," she replied with a quick check. "We've used four a piece." She looked over to Walker a moment as he let the rifle hang about his shoulders, clenching his hands a moment, and flexing his fingers. Annie knew what it was. Walker wasn't young. And like any human being he suffered from the affects of age. Arthritis had started to set into his hands. She turned back to the oncoming forces and continued firing. She worried about him, but he wouldn't allow for it. It was just something he had. I'll get over it, was his mantra.

Through ancient hallways, charred from magical fire, the walls were now sporting the pock marks from a thousand bullets. Guides, mages and spirits fell before the pair. That was the thing. This was the start of a knife fight, but Walker and Annie brought their own party favours. Live by the sword, die by the sword. Especially when your opposition is carrying a fully automatic assault rifle.

The twists and turns eventually lead to an ancient cavern, a natural rock formation which was carved out of the rock by years of erotion from the underground stream that ate away at it. A quick scan of the area could identify the use of the room. Holding areas for prisoners. But there was something else. There was the sound of whimpering, small and quiet. "Annie. That report we heard on the news last week."

"The school bus?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly. He didn't have to say any more. The Weavers have always been famous for their human sacrifices in order to raise the most vile creatures from whatever pit they wallowed in. That bus carried fifteen children, most preteen, eleven and twelve years old. Police hadn't been able to find any trace of where they had gone. It had been assumed that the bus driver who was found later, was responsible for killing and hiding the bodies of all fifteen. But when the authorities went to question him, his mind was turned to mush. A walking vegetable. Not even FBI or CIA could get anything out of him. Quite literally, Walker and Annie had stumbled onto where the missing children had gone.

Annie took one look at Walker. She noticed his hands. He was white knuckling his rifle. She didn't have to ask, she knew. Walker was mad. Not angry, but mad. He had a soft spot for children, one of his decisions for leaving the Illuminati. And Annie could not blame him for his next action.

The bullets began to fly, mowing down the first small group of mages that surrounded the body of a young girl as they attempted a ceremony of summoning. At first he was quiet, not speaking, letting the rifle talk for him. But as he and Annie advanced into the pit, he shouted out so even the angels in the heavens could hear him. "Y'all picked the wrong day ta do this. B'cause sooner 'r later, someone's gonna find out. Guess what? I did, an' I'm comin' ta teach y'all a lesson. An' I bringin' hell with me!"

The mages began to run, knowing that any direct assault would be futile. But a barrage of bullets cut them down quickly, dropping them with precision. Luckily, many of the victims were sitll alive. Alive, yes, but they would still have to live with the horror of what they had witnessed over the past week. "When a dog gets mean an' angry, then it's time ta put that dog down, mages. Well I'm here ta do just that." Within minutes, the mages had been cut down, only one was left standing.

Walker jammed the barrel of the gun underneath the mages jaw, his breath heavy as his finger was only a hair from pulling the trigger. Only Annie's soft touch held him back. "We need information, sir." Walker nodded and stared at the mage, letting Annie do the talking. They'd worked together enough that Annie knew when John got this way, she was the one who needed to keep her head. "What do you know of the recent abilities that the Heritage Front have suddenly acquired?" Her voice was even and calm, which made things all that much more worriesome.

"They came to us... wanted a powerful ally. We knew of the vampyri, so we summoned a vampire for them..."

"That's risky."

"She slaughtered the entire sect," he snarled. "And the jackboots never even paid us for it."

"Is there a way to send her back?"

"There is. But I doubt that any of you could do it. Especially not with this action."

"Yeah, I'm gonna let y'all summon some snot monster with these kids," Walker finally said, his voice cracking slightly from the rage he was trying to hold back. "Just give us the information an' location, an' maybe, the worst that's gonna happen to ya is yer gonna rot in some cell fer the rest o' yer life."

"You would show me mercy?" the mage sneered.

"I never said that," Walker sneered right back as he pulled back the rifle, slamming the butt into the mage's forehead. He crumpled without another sound. "Annie, gather up them that ain't dead an' tend ta their wounds."

"Calling Dr. Adams, sir?"

"No. Callin' someone I ain't talked ta in near a decade," he walked to the edge of the circle that formed the pit and took out his cellphone, dialing a number and praying that it still worked after all these years. There was two rings and a quick hello in a charming but familiar voice, but John couldn't find it in him to reply back in equally charming tones. "Christa."

"John? What's wrong?"

"The school bus. I found the kids."

There was silence for a moment. Christa Rayne hadn't heard from John Walker in years, and now, out of the blue, he called her. One of the many tricks that John had up his sleeve. But now was not the time to berate him. The sound in his voice spoke volumes. "I'll have a team there, John. Good work."

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 5

The pair trudged through the sewers with care. They had a connection back to the office of Walker Securities, but Walker had another idea. Aside from needing a few cuts and bruises dealt with, he needed to know more about the type of "magic" they had seen on their read outs. And the only man he knew who could answer that, without getting himself tossed into a Turkish prison, was Richard Adams. Richard had retired, for the most part. Age was catching up to him, but he was still a well of knowledge, plus, he was incredibly handy with a surgical needle and could keep quiet about certain things.

"We could go back, Sir," Annie suggested. "Tracking her through this will be next to impossible."

Walker looked to Annie for a long moment. "It ain't that I don't agree with ya on that, Annie. It that somethin's buggin' me 'bout this whole thing. An' when somethin' starts buggin' me..." He didn't have to finish as he banged a fist against the steel door. He wouldn't be satisfied until he got an answer. The door opened carefully, and an elderly, yet distinguished, black gentleman poked his head out.

"Ah, yes," Adams announced. "Always do know that one of you is in trouble when lower security starts knocking. I suspect you'll need some attention." Adams held the door open allowing the two gunslingers entry. "So," he stated as the door closed, quieter than one would think a steel door should. "Who were the targets today, and where are the wounds?"

"The wounds ain't so bad, Doc," Walker remarked as he took off the jet black cowboy hat and lowered the bandana from his face. Here, both Mary and John Walker could live their dual life one in the same, with absolute safety. Adams had promised them complete autonomy while in the confines of his home, and he would keep the secret of their dual lives. "Just some nicks an' scrapes. Targets were Heritage Front, but they seemed ta be usin' some kinda magic."

"Not uncommon for Heritage Front, really," Adams replied as he went over a few of the bruises on Mary's shoulder. "You should be more careful, Mary. By the look of this bruise, you're rolling into it too soon." Adams knew what the pair had done, even without asking. It was evident in the shape of the bruises and the depth of the cuts. "Heritage Front agents have practised in magic for years, Walker, you should know this."

"But it weren't no magic we ever seen b'fore, Doc. It had a signature like Weaver..."

"...but there was fluctuations that were off," Mary continued. And again, it was like a well oiled machine between Walker and Annie. All cylinders clicking at the right time. "It seemed much more powerful than anything Weaver has managed before." She reached into her saddle bag and produced a hand held, pointing to the display where the signature first appeared. Adams finished with Mary's shoulder and gently took the hand held, studying the readings intently.

Richard knew what he was looking for, after all, it was he along with researchers from Stewart Aeronautics that created the devices for aerial observation. The ones that went into mass production were not nearly as powerful as the one Mary used. "You're going to have to search out Weavers. They're using an other worldly magic. Find out what it is, and see if you can cut off what the Heritage Front is trying to use."

"I thought it were Weaver magic," Walker replied.

"Similar, but not the same," he corrected. "Weavers will be able to help you out, mind you. Granted, they probably won't be happy to see you." Richard smirked as he tilted his glasses. The comment in reference to a dust up between Walker and Weavers several months back. Walker didn't exactly make friends with them. "See if you can talk to the head mage. If the Weavers won't co-operate, then the only other place you're going to get civil answers is from the CSIS Paranormal."

Walker sighed as he sat down in a chair. The examination room seemed sterile and cold, but it was a great deal more inviting than what lay ahead in Orenbaga. "Sometimes, Doc. Things seemed a lot simpler back in the Gulf."

"Maybe you shouldn't have left the military, John."

Walker took a deep breath and sighed. He knew what they would have to do. Rest, resupply, and make a trek into the desert. People were going to die. But if they didn't go down into the earth, people probably would die anyway. The only difference would be, the latter option would involve a great deal of pain.

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 4

The bullets were starting to pile up. Walker and Annie were hunkered down behind a makeshift bunker as they were forced to retreat into a small storage area. However, they managed to push back the largest wave of soldiers and keep firing. Every so often, one soldier would become brave enough to try and come up to an area close to their flank. This only served to be a futile effort, as Annie's keen sights always managed to find the target. This also added to the growing stockpile of weapons and ammunition that Walker and Annie were using. As John would often say there's no such thing as a Hollywood clip, but there's unlimited resources b'hind enemy lines.

Annie looked to Walker as the gun fire from the opposite side was starting to lessen. Not that they weren't being effective, but Annie could sense a retreat. Walker popped up just enough to see soldiers crawling back deeper into the sewers. "What the hell's goin' on?"

"No idea, Sir."

And suddenly, the gun fire ended completely. If there were crickets, they would be the loudest thing in those sewers. Neither of them moved, sensing that someone or something was soon to make an appearance. And they weren't disappointed.

From the safety of the bunker, the pair could hear the struggles of a person being held firmly as they attempted to escape. There was a soft laugh and what sounded like a whisper followed by a grunt of pain. Walker reloaded his rifle and began to climb out from behind the safety of the bunker. And came face to face with the Hauptmann herself. But this was different. They'd expected a fight, but not hostages. Hauptmann Yar'ow held a small figure in a tight grip, her arm around the smaller woman's throat. Walker could tell this woman was not from anywhere he'd ever been before. She had similar features to Yar'ow, the elven tipped ears, the tight muscle frame in a lithe body. But he also knew she was not a vampire like Yar'ow was either. And Alow had her in a locked grip, weilding a knife next to the woman's temple.

Annie followed suit, holding up her Berrettas on the elven vampire. This could get ugly.

"Comin' out nice an' easy, aye," the elf laughed. "Good, I wanna see yer eyes." She grinned maniacally as her fangs hung low and menacing, close to the woman's neck. "Ye've been a Weaver in the side o' the Heritage Front since ye took up in Palo Duro. Stoppin' shipments, takin' out soldiers. Shame, they were well trained men an' a loss fer the 'Ighest."

"Well, I ain't been one ta abide by the Highest's so called doctrine," Walker replied as he trained the rifle on the elf. She was starting to back up, dragging the smaller woman with her.

"I'd put down the ordinance if I were ye," Yar'ow instructed as she ran the tip of the blade she held along the woman's abdomen. In a quick gesture, she laughed and ran her tongue along the woman's neck. "Tastey. Ye know what it's like. Need ta feed e'ery so often. An' elven blood makes fer a good mix. Never know, I may turn this one. But no' yet. Right now, she's a bargainin' chip."

"You mean a shield," Annie spoke up. Walker could sense her ire rising inside his partner. She was none too pleased with the display, and could see how hard she gripped her pistols.

"Annie," Walker warned, then turned back to the elf. Her eyes danced with a chaotic madness that could only mean how deranged she truly was. "Deal,' he said to her as he lowered his rifle.

"Smart man," Yar'ow replied with a psychotic grin, her fangs only making the look more menacing. "Little Aelrindel 'ere's gonna acc'mp'ny me. She me reassurance that I get out safely. No' tha' I cannu shrug off whate'er bullets ye vomit outta those pea shooters, but I'd rather no' 'aveta take a coupla days ta repair the damage."

"An' what happens ta her?"

"She lives," Yar'ow replied with an even tone, her features almost softening. "Fer now." As she spoke the last two words her face returned to it's usual maniacal appearance. A sneer and a growl came out of her lips as she saw Annie step closer, pistols still raised. A quick stab, and the knife plunged into Aelrindel's shoulder. The smaller elf gave a cry of pain, and seemed to growl to the vampire in anger as Yar'ow ran her tongue around the newly created wound, breathing deeply from the aroma the fresh blood gave her.

"You truly are a sick fuck, Yar'ow," Walker sneered.

"The deal," she repeated as she roughly kept A'mael in front of her. "Drop yer weapons an' dunna follow." Walker never took his eyes off Yar'ow, but motioned for Annie to lower her weapons. His partner gave a grunt of protest, but he snapped his fingers, showing just how serious the situation was.

"Can't do it now, Annie," he said quietly. "Ain't gonna risk the life o' someone over the quick draw o' tryin' ta take out some scumbag who's just gonna keep comin'."

Yar'ow laughed aloud as Walker voiced his opinion. "I knew there were a 'eart o' gold underneath that full metal jacket." She kept a trained eye on the pair as she backed up toward the exit, a transport pulling up ready to take them both to their destination. "Now, if ye two will excuse me, I've go' ta make meself more intimate with me new playmate." In one last display of defiance to Walker and Annie, the elven vampire, began clutching at Aelrindel, running her tongue along the woman's neck, letting her cold breath flow over exposed skin. As they entered the transport, Yar'ow's laughter filled the sewers with an eerie echo, never fading until the transport disappeared from view.

"Sir?" Annie asked as she retrieved her weapons.

"Start the hunt, Annie," Walker said as he shouldered the rifle. "Back ta base an' start trackin' through the GPS. We'll find 'er. We'll find that bitch an' give 'er what for."

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 3

The pair wadded through the sludge of the sewers slowly. Dealing with Gangers, Cultists and Mutties had worn thin on both of them, but Annie reminded Walker that they were closing in on the target. As she inspected a hand held GPS her eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, she showed the display to Walker. He nodded and began checking the ammo situation, loading his rifle with a fresh clip. Annie packed away the GPS and took out a pair of semi-automatice Berrettas. Walker listened for a moment, and finally could hear the sound of jack boots walking on metal grating. This was it.

"Objective, Sir?"

"Heritage Front," Walker simply stated. "Everythin's a target, unless we can identify it as a hostage. Really ain't too concerned 'bout the Fed's policy on capture. It always did seem more like catch an' release." Annie nodded in reply and the pair continued forward again. Walker eased open a door, staying back to the shadows. And there they saw it. It looked like hundreds were packed into one of the large junction stations of the sewers.

"Question, Sir?"

"Go 'head."

"Why is it every organization such as the Heritage Front deems it necessary to pack themselves into a mudhole like the sewers?"

Walker smirked underneath the mask. "Ain't no tellin' in the mind o' a buncha Nazis like these." He looked over to her for a moment. "All set, Annie."

"Affirmative, Sir."

The waiting was over, they could watch the jack boots walk all they wanted to. Each one was merely a target in the grand scheme. Join the Heritage Front, here's your bullseye. Walker started the volley off, taking the group by surprise as he ran for cover inside the room. Six fell to the floor, only one from serious injury. The others, well, there was no need to worry about the other five anymore. As the agents began shouting, grabbing weapons and searching the area where Walker dove to, a second volley from a pair of pistols took down six more.

Annie ran into the middle of the room, firing at random targets, dodging with a cat like grace, and lashing out at anyone nearby. She took up position in another secure spot of the room. And Walker and Annie had them right where they wanted them.

The first step was achieving a secure location in the room, and that was by utilizing the element of surprise. Thus, Walker's action. The second step was confusion. As the soldiers attention was taken by Walker, this allowed Annie to attack and find cover. Now there were two targets. And the soldiers could think all they wanted to about there being a third and a fourth. But with the positioning Walker and Annie had placed themselves, the Heritage Front soldiers were now caught in a crossfire. In the centre of the room, the only cover they had was the bodies of their comrades as they fell to the ground. And once the barrage was done, there was one hundred dead and wounded laying on the ground.

Walker only needed one anyway.

The pair left the security of their positions and found one soldiers crawling along the metal grating. Walker grabbed him by the back of the jacket and flipped him over. The soldier cried out in pain as he was manhandled. "Sorry, son," Walker said in a gruff drawl. "But I ain't one ta 'pologize fer droppin' the hammer on the likes o' you. Now, boy, what gives? Ya goin' through my sector. Why all the ordinance?"

"...escorting...escorting Haupt.. Hauptmann..." The soldier coughed and spat up blood. The look in Walker's eyes told the soldier to elaborate. "Hauptmann...Yar'ow."

Walker looked back to Annie. They'd heard the name before, a very familiar one indeed. An elven vampire who came to Earth from another plane of exsistance. And they knew it, because they helped bring it here. "What ya make o' it, Annie?"

"Only one way to find out, Sir," she stated as she looked to Walker. He nodded in silent reply. Walker knew what had to be done. Search and destroy. Because if the rumours were true, Hauptmann Yar'ow was more dangerous than any Heritage Front Undead before her.

He moved on quickly as Annie looked to the soldier. Wordlessly, she took up one Berretta and placed a slug between his eyes before following Walker.

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 2

Marianne Wollcot locked the door and closed the blinds to the street level office of Walker Security and Investigations. The business day had come to an end, but now a new aspect of business needed to be taken care of. Marianne, or Mary as John was often to call her, sat back in-front of her computer terminal and typed in a series of keys. A schematic visual of Palo Duro Canyon filled the screen.

"It would appear there is a high amount of traffic going through Sector 15, Mr. Walker," Marianne announced. John Walker came out of his office after filing away completed reports.

He leaned on her desk as he pushed up his glasses, studying the screen intently. "Well, look at that. Seems the Heritage Front's gettin' a might itchy ta start somethin'." He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's the full details on that, Mary?"

Marianne tapped a few keys, and a legend was brought up, overlayed on the schematic. "Heavy weaponry movement," she reported in her crisp British accent. "And from these readings, it would indicate a high amount of radioactive energy."

"So alotta them purple cotton candy men 're runnin' through the sewers," John said matter of factly. "They usually stick ta the desert. 'Less o' course they usin' the sewer network ta come up near Potter." He sighed heavily as he contemplated the situation. And then Mary gave the word after seeing something very different.

"This indicates a high amount of magical energy, Mr. Walker," she said, pointing to a particularily red patch on the screen.

"Well, well," John stated with a smile crossing his lips. "Now what do Heritage Front want with Weaver magic. That is the signature we're readin', right Mary?"

"As we've often seen before."

John's smile cracked to a grin as he spoke. "Annie, git yer gun. Time ta hit the sewers an' go huntin'."

Canyons of Steel - Valley of the Damned Pt. 1

"Mary, you have the file on the Carpenter case?" John Walker asked in his usual tone. The office was quiet, as it usually was on a Monday morning. John went through the usual detail of sorting through reports of security contacts from the previous week, and any investigations, whether private or contracted through the District Attorney's Office or the office of Andrews and Morgan.

"Here it is, Mr. Walker," Mary replied with a smile as she handed him a thick file from one of the cabinets.

"Thank you, Mary," John said in his charming fashion as he gently took the file. Time to get to work, and who knew what the day would bring about. After all, he had a lot of work each week as the lead investigator for Walker Security and Investigations. The morning went rather quickly, scheduling security details with employees, seeing clients on case matters, and meeting with attorneys to cover case material and what needed to be investigated. Lunch came around and John drove casually into the section of Amarillo known as Potter County.

He had a meeting, one with someone who had become a friend. John had a nagging feeling that bothered him. He knew exactly what it was, but he needed to relieve that feeling. And the only way he could do so was by telling Detective James Mallard the truth. He pulled the Rancharo into the parking lot, smiling to himself as he saw Mallard waiting with coffee in hand, going over some notes at one of the sidewalk tables. "Never seen a man work as hard as you do, James," John called out as he locked up his vehicle.

"Trust me," Mallard replied without looking up. "It keeps me out of trouble. Don't want to worry Linda any."

"True 'nough, Detective," John replied as he sat down. "Fine lady like that deserves someone by 'er side."

James studied John Walker for a moment as a waitress brought out a coffee for him. Always with that southern charm of his, calling most women he met darlin'. "What's on your mind, Walker. You called me, remember?"

John took a sip of his coffee, inhaled the aroma that came from the cup and looked across the small table to James. "What I gotta say, James, ain't somethin' ya tell a priest. I ain't gotta make right with the Lord, I gotta make right with my own concious."

"Does this look like a confessional? Did you ever see a priest with a sidearm and an Irish coffee?" James replied with a chuckle as he patted the gun holstered under his shoulder.

Walker chuckled as he lit a cigarette "Got it in one, James. Things changed a lot. People say I kinda a hard ass sometimes, but I guess that come from what I seen in my life." Walker's light hearted demeanor soon changed, like a performance vehicle stopping on a dime. "You ever heard o' a man named Operative Violet Rose?"

"Yep. Figured he had issues, since 'Violet Rose' sounds like some two-bit stripper name."

"Heh, yeah, I alway thought it were kinda a stupid name. But he were Illuminati," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee, then looked directly to James "An' I know the name an' the man, intimately." James arched an eyebrow as he nursed his own coffee. Part of him knew already where the conversation was going. "I quit, James. I got out. All fer one thing. A little girl. Life's too short an' too precious ta do the things I used ta do. 'Specially when there's some girl needs her daddy."

"There's always a woman, isn't there..." James sat back and rubbed his forehead.

"Maybe. But I got tired o' it. Tired o' the lies, tired o' the killin'. Don't go start sayin' I found the Lord 'r nuthin', b'cause I know damn well that I'm gonna burn in hell fer the things I done. I ain't got no disillusions 'bout bein' forgiven for what I done come judgement day. But maybe I can make right what needs ta be made right here an' now."

James looked down at his coffee and sighed again as he spoke in a quiet tone. "What do you need from me, John?"

"Fer now, just needed someone ta listen. I trust you, James. Ever since I first met ya. You got that look in yer eye that a man can know right 'way that he ain't gonna get no bull from ya." Walker took a long drag from the cigarette, then crushed it in the ash tray. "An' maybe I needed ta clear my own concious by sayin' it aloud ta someone else. Times gonna come when I may leave this world. An' I gotta know that Danny's gonna be able ta find someone ta look up ta."

"And you're looking here?" asked as he shook his head.

"Gonna show me some other place ta look?" John chuckled lightly. "Maybe I go up to Blue Steel an' let him know."

James studied John for a long time before answering, letting the Texan talk. He had read the reports of Operative Violet Rose, and he'd heard the man simply fell off the face of the planet. If what John was saying was true, then he had an arrest which would break open an entire organization, erasing years of chaos and death as Illuminati could be brought down. But he also knew John Walker. In the six years he'd seen the man work, he'd never seen anyone more dedicated to preserving the peace than this man. James took another sip of coffee and shook his head.

"John." James paused for just a moment as he thought of the right words to say. And realized, there was only one way to say what needed to be said. "I've known you for six years. And that has got to be the biggest line of bullshit I've ever heard." John Walker put his coffee cup down as he started to laugh aloud.

"Is that what you think it is?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Well, alright then. Maybe it is." John looked James right in the eye, and saw that there was something deeper to what the detective felt than was being said. It wasn't that he wouldn't believe it, it was that he was forcing himself not to believe it. "Alright. Then that's that." John looked at his watch and flashed a smile. "Gotta head back ta work m'self." He rose from his chair and placed the appropriate money on the table, enough to pay for both his and James's. "Miss," John said as a waitress came by. "Take care o' this young man. Keep 'im on 'is toes an' make sure he heads home alright." The waitress laughed at the comment and looked to Mallard. Mallard simply smiled.

"Keep your sights clean, Walker," James called after him.

"You better b'lieve it. See ya on the trail, Sherrif." Walker eased back into his vehicle, the smile never leaving his face.

A long, long time ago

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

lyrics from Don McLean's American Pie

It's amazing what you can find when you're doing some cleaning around the house. Things you never thought you still had. For myself, I found a large number of old art pieces that I had done. Most were just experiments, seeing if I could capture form of the subject. And then there was an art piece that caught my eye. I didn't do this one. No, this was done by a man named Scott McCullar.

For those in the know in the world of comics, Scott is an artist. I could go on about his artwork, but I think his own website (found here) can detail much better than I ever could. Scott and I met, well, online that is, through the DC Comics forums and the Green Arrow forums. Both of us had a great love of comics and in particular, specific characters. Scott was, and still is for that matter, the most knowledgeable person on the face of the planet with everything concerning Green Arrow. At the time when we met, I was building the Unofficial Hawkworld Home Page, everything needed to know about Hawkman and Hawkwoman, and eventually became a sort of continuity clean up for the mess DC Comics had gotten the characters into with the monthly Hawkworld series.

This also goes to explain my signature at the end of each blog entry. Keep 'em flyin'. I used that when I was around those old boards. And keep in mind, this is back in the days before phpbb boards were all the rage. Even before the days of Wikis. I think I just dated myself, there. But that sig line was also on the piece of artwork, which you can see here. I scanned it in Photoshop, cleaned up the piece as best I could without taking away from the original image. Now, I think I will have to find a new frame for it.

Until then...

Keep 'em flyin'.

You Outta Be In Pictures

I've really taken to snapping photos a lot lately. Not only is it a part of my job, but it truly is a wonderful hobby. And to think, my experience with digital cameras did not start that long ago.

My first digital camera was the Samsung Digimax D53. A pretty decent camera for simple point and click portrait pictures. I found that scenic shots came out great with this camera. It's easy to use, and easy to transfer photos onto your computer for editing purposes, whether you have a simple photo manipulation program or are an expert Photoshop user. Light weight and easy to hold, this camera has the basic features needed to capture some very good shots.

With a high resolution image that it produces and a 2.4 inch LCD screen, that was just the beginning of what originally sold it for me. The 5 megapixel quality also was a selling point. But the camera had it's share of problems for me.

I always found I had to remove the batteries, or even when turned off, it would drain the energy from them. It went through a pair of AA batteries like nothing. And the Energizer Rechargable batteries weren't much of a help. There was one last problem. I take a lot of photos at the local hockey arena. And this camera just wasn't up to the task. The photos would come out extremely blurry, and in some cases, motion blur filled the image.

I had to find something else.

After a long talk with a friend, she suggested I look at the Kodak line of digital cameras. So I did. I found the Kodak EasyShare Z812 IS. Compact, just like the Samsung, but it has so much more.

A 12X zoom, plus 8.2 megapixel resolution, this camera could also take the photos my Samsung was lacking in. Action shots. This camera also comes with a rechargable Li-Ion battery, and replaceable batteries are cheap. As well, it can handle a pair of AA batteries in a pinch.

As you can see, there is a slight difference in quality in the images taken. The top photo is of the Samsung Digimax D53, taken with the Kodak. While below, is the Kodak EasyShare Z812 IS, taken with the Samsung. Even before I began cropping down the images, I noticed a slight difference. The mug shot, that was taken with the Z812.

The nice thing about both cameras is they take the SD flash card. I already had one for the Samsung, so switching it over to the Kodak was no problem at all. I haven't field tested the Kodak as much as I have the Digimax, but I hope that I'll see an improvement. The Ice Hawks play at home to the Elrose Aces tonight, so I might just get a chance to see the camera in action.

Point. Click. Photo.

Until next time...

Keep 'em flyin'.

cat bloopers 2

And even more lolcat action!

Cat bloopers

LOLcats in action!

Rick Mercer: Rough Ride

I saw this and couldn't stop laughing. I especially like the mock movie trailer for Piffles Taylor.

lolhawk?!?

Found this at ICanHasCheezburger.com and laughed a lot. I find it odd to find this while I'm writing the Hunters story arc.


moar funny pictures

The Evolution of Dance

Something absolutely hilarious to watch, and amazing to think how this was conceived. The evolution of dance.

Hunters - The Hawk's Scream Pt 4

Cat In The Apartment

He paid attention to the one spot on the back of his paw, as though he'd found the most incredible feeling in the world. But that was secondary to the spot on the floor where the sun shone. Zachary purred lightly, his eyes closed as he enjoyed himself. It was the normal morning routine in the apartment. And his human was preparing for work.

Zachary had felt it best to stay at the apartment, after all, there would be no visits to the aviary today. A visit to the aviary always meant an opportunity to show those large birds who was superior. After all, Zachary's mere presence was enough to convince the raptors of this. He heard a thunk on the floor and turned his head to see what it was that made the sudden sound. Ah yes, water. Excellent, my human.

The human walked about the house gathering what he needed before leaving for work. And, as always, he would make platitudes to Zachary, to which the nimble feline would purr and meow his approval. As the human left, the apartment settled back in to what would be a calm day. Zachary would rise and patrol his realm, ensuring that everything was in it's proper place. And once that was complete, he would sit on the window sill and survey his kingdom.

The subjects were of little interest to him. The ones that busied themselves with the hustle and bustle on the ground, and the brightly coloured ones that rushed past. Zachary couldn't believe that there was anything in the world that would make people rush about so madly. The thoughts were pushed back as a slight rush of wind and a flapping of wings could be heard.

Zachary looked to the direction of the sound and seemed to smile, calling out with a meow as the falcon landed on the ledge outside the window.

Good morning, Zachary.

Good morning, Tamara.

You look as though you've had a productive morning.

It has been a good hunt this morning. I found a group of mice near the shore.

Ah, excellent. If only I could have joined you.

Yes, unfortunate. How is your human doing?

Quite well, really. He has to attend to his charges in the large building near the mountain.

More of that education, if I am correct. He seems to treat you with respect and dignity. I understand that he is caring for my mate. Tragic, I thought he was lost when his wing was broken. Imagine my surprise when I discovered he was being tended to.

That would be the hallmark of my human. Tamara, I must admit something to you.

Yes, Zachary.

I find that I am most fond of you. Had things been different, I believe that we could be much closer.

You flatter me, Zachary. And yet, while I await for my mate's release with great anticipation, I too find a fondness for you. You have been a dear friend, Zachary.

I am glad you feel that way, Tamara.

I am afraid I must depart, Zachary. My hatchlings will have need of me. But I shall return. Do take care.

Be well, Tamara. And give my best to your kittens.

The bird of prey took to the air quickly and Zachary resumed surveying his realm. Left to himself again, he lounged in a new sun spot. Perhaps tomorrow his human would take him to the buildings by the mountain. He'd enjoy that. After all, the giant birds needed to be reminded of his regal presence. And then again, he might be able to tell Tamara's mate that she still thinks of him.

Hunters - The Hawk's Scream Pt 3

Maxwell finished serving up his dinner and placed everything on the table, then made sure that Zachary had his food as well. The cat waited patiently, after all, it was a lot of hard work to get a good meal ready for him. He needed everything just right. Zachary, that is, not Max. After seeing to Zachary's needs, Max sat down at the table and began eating. He didn't have the radio on, nor the television. Eating with him was always quiet and peaceful, one of the few things he felt he needed without distraction.

He thought about the past few nights and the seeming whirlwind of events that landed him in Regina. He had applied for a position in the Biology Department that would see him dealing with birds of prey, especially those brought in that needed tending too. Max wouldn't be teaching classes just yet, although the Dean did say the looked over his references and found his historical knowledge of Native history was impressive. Perhaps in the next semester they would want him to assist in the history department as well. He shrugged internally and kept eating. The move would be a good one. No need to get worked up over it all now.

He finished his meal and washed up his dishes. Zachary meowed and trotted into the livingroom to sit on the window sill and watch the world outside of the apartment. Too bad the sun was going down, no sun spots to lounge in. Max took down a few books and set them at his desk, research for the devices he had began to build. He also had a few papers to to sign and hand in to the University. By the time he was finished it was 9 o'clock in the evening. He rose from his desk and went over to Zachary, scratching him behind the ears. Zachary pushed his head up, meowing at the attention, then hopped off the window sill and followed Max as he walked to the basement.

Boxes filled the basement of the house. A workshop was beginning to take shape, even if the contents of the boxes remained where they were. Mostly books, some extra clothes and a few tools. He sat down at a workbench and organized a few papers as he produced his equipment. The papers had drawings, schematics for an odd device. His hobbies had helped him, interests as a child, and those continued on now into adulthood. He had grown quite used to fixing small components of electronic equipment, and had even managed to modify a few things in his day. But this was being built from scratch.

The device looked like a high tech aspirator. It had three small speaks on it, and what appeared to be USB ports. It fit around the nose and mouth of the wearer comfortably, at least. Or so it would appear. The straps and bindings were a soft leather, a strange contrast from the very modern day tech that had been used to create the device. You couldn't even tell that it contained the parts of an old iPod. Max's idea was sound, to take the cries of hawks, falcons and eagles, recorded into mp3 format and loaded onto the storage compartment of the device. A second device, which would wrap around his left wrist, would hold the play list, as it were. A quick tap on the play list would load up the next track and play it. As the sound would come through the speaker system, it would become highly altered, increasing the intensity of the sound to the point where it could damage.

This was the first step that Max would use to investigate the disappearance of his daughter. He was more than convinced that she was still alive, and that the multinational biogenetic company Mandrake Biogenetic was behind her disappearance. But in order to convince others of this, he needed evidence. And he needed to do it in a covert manner. The amplification rig was the only high tech piece he had. The rest of his armour was very much a throw back to his ancestry. Combining solid body armour and old markings from his family's stories, he managed to create something that looked very similar to what Dakota warriors would wear when on the hunt.

As he finished at his workbench, he smiled. The device would need to be tested, but at least this step was complete.

Hawk's Scream would rise and take flight very soon.

Hunters - The Hawk's Scream Pt 2

He pulled off the return fax from the Regina City Hall. They instructed him to register at the front desk as soon as he entered the city. He never gave them his full name, just the monicker. He'd spoken with one of the registrars at great length a few days ago. And she had promised to push the proper paperwork through, even though it was rather unorthidox to apply for registration when you didn't live in the city.

Next, he checked his e-mail. For the past few days, he'd been waiting for a message about a job he had applied for. He smiled as he saw the message from the University of Regina.

Dear Mister Running Cloud;

We have gone over your recent application to join the faculty here at The University of Regina. You're credentials are most impressive indeed. We believe you would be a perfect fit to our staff.
We look forward to seeing you. We are hoping you can begin work in four weeks time. Looking forward to your reply.

Sincerely,

Dean Masterson

Maxwell smiled and dashed off a quick e-mail. Four weeks was more than enough time to get himself set up and comfortable. He'd sublet this apartment, there already was a few offers.

He had it planned, once he arrived in Regina, he'd get settled into an apartment, get his registration completed and then begin the hunt. Even though he researched Mandrake Biogenetic and found them to be quite powerful, he'd also received word that there was a great number of people in Regina who were none too happy with Mandrake. He made a note to seek them out. Perhaps they could help him look for his daughter.

That would come in time. For now, he had some packing to do. The furniture would stay, he offered the apartment as fully furnished. His computer, laptop, clothes... those would all come with him. He didn't have a lot, he never really kept a lot since his wife died. Just the basics.

He cooked himself some dinner, and then packed away what he needed to into boxes. His car was too small to hold it, so he traded it in for an SUV. That would be fine enough, plus it would get all of his stuff to Regina in one piece. He planned on heading out in the morning. Which meant he had to get to sleep. The day was slowly coming to an end, and if he wanted an early start the next morning, he'd better get to sleep now.

Hunters - The Hawk's Scream Pt 1

I want to be a hunter again
want to see the world alone again
to take a chance on life again
so let me go
lyrics from Hunter as performed by Dido

He sifted through the broken glass and the overturned furniture. Aside from the vandals that had spray painted a few things on the walls, the place was untouched. Maxwell Running Cloud looked around at the room for a moment. His family was here once, it had been eight years since he had even thought of this place. He had a wife, and a daughter. But now, well, that was gone. He moved out back behind the house. There in the backyard facing the trees was a small marker. His wife wanted to be buried on the Rez. And he made sure that it was done. If I have to dig it myself he remembered telling her.

He had to leave, this place brought back too many memories, painful as they were. He knew what had happened to his wife, but his daughter... For years, he hadn't given up hope. Now, he was reserved in facing the fact that his daughter was gone.

"Hey Max," he heard the voice. He turned to see Chief Big Bear approaching him. "I just heard, Max. Headin' back to university again?" The burly man shook his head. "Wish more people around here thought like you."

Max smiled. "I've made an impression on some of them." The some of them Max spoke of was a few of the high school students that attended classes on the Dakota White Cap reserve. He tried very hard for the students to enjoy learning, and for the most part, he'd been successful.

"We're gonna miss you around here, ya know that?"

Max shrugged a bit. "I'm actually gonna miss this place. Only place I can really study them without taking them out of their environment." The two of them looked up as if on cue, a red tailed hawk circle above them, letting out a cry.

"You gotta do what you gotta do, Max." The Chief shook his hand and walked off, knowing Max would want some time alone. That's all he really had now. Time alone.

He took one last look around the place before heading back to his car. It was a slow walk, and at the same time, so very long.

He hardly noticed the man standing at the front door of the broken down house, he seemed to meld with the surroundings, such as they were. "Max Running Cloud?" he called out as Max walked by.

Max turned a bit and looked in the man's direction. "Yes?"

"Max Running Cloud? Who's wife an' child be gone?"

Max narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

"Ya can mourn yer wife," the strange man said. "But don' mourn the daughter. The girl's still 'live." The man giggled incesantly.

Max's heart jumped into his throat. He approached the man, being quite forceful in his questions. "Where is she? Who did this? Who has her?"

The man cowered in fear. Max wasn't a small man, by any means, for a scientist. And his size was rather intimidating to some, comforting to others. "They...they...they have 'er. The company Crey took 'er. They wanted 'er fer themselves an' they took 'er. An' killed the love...killed the love."

"Took her where?" Max asked, his voice putting emphasis on each word.

"Ta the city o' steel an' glass. City on down south. The city o' gov'ment." The man began to back away.

"Stop talking in riddles. Where is she?" Maxwell was getting very irritated with this man and his constant babbling.

"The City o' the Queen! Far from here, far from the safty of the Whitecap, far from the City o' Bridges, far from the mighty Saskatchewan." Maxwell Running Cloud let the man babble. He finally had two names to go by. It was time to try and find his daughter and he'd deal with this Crey at the same time.

He got into his car and started the engine, leaving the man to continue his ramblings. He had an apartment in Saskatoon which had his experiments. He studied birds, an ornithologist. His specialty was birds of prey. Maxwell had won a scholarship to the University of British Columbia with his thesis on the cry of such birds as the Red Tailed Hawk, the Osprey, Peregrin Falcon and even the Eagle. In later years, he'd even learned to mimic an eagle's mournful sounding cry, and even amplify it. The experiments scared him a little, as he discovered the damage that could be done.

He was starting to think his idea of the costume wasn't so bad after all. Hawk's Scream. Well, he had some more work to do before heading to Regina. There was things he had to arrange.

Canyons of Steel - Lawman in a Lawless Land Pt 10

The pounding of hooves echoed down the streets of Port William. Citizens ran out of the way, onto the sidewalks as the three horses carried their riders down the pathways. Gangers and Mafia ducked into the shadows of alleyways, not wishing to be seen by those three who tore down the street.

The trio spurred their charges on, galloping up the hill toward the mark where Fort Jasper and Port William joined. Mafia gunsels just watched, hoping that none of the riders would look their way, with a sudden desire for extracting justice.

As the sun set on the island, the three riders stopped their mounts at the top of the hill. Each surveyed the village below with a watchful eye. They were in hell, and each knew that was where they were eventually destined for, but at least for now, they could try to make good on their sins from the past.

It may take a while, but they'd make this village their own.

"Well, mates," Monty said as the grey shifted under his weight. "What now?"

Walker looked toward the villas that dotted the beach front, a small smile cracked on his face. "Mafia's got an illegal gamblin' an' racin' operation goin' on," he said quietly. "Even under the law o' this here island, it's still illegal." He looked to Marianne and Monty for a moment. "Let's go misbehavin'."

The End

Canyons of Steel - Lawman in a Lawless Land Pt 9

John Walker cocked his head as he heard the noise come from the back room. He got up from his desk and wandered through the storage areas, past the make shift medical bay and to a large door that lead to a room not yet cleared. He'd heard the sounds, hammers banging and saws cutting, but had at first thought nothing of it. They still had repair work to do, and this wasn't exactly something unexpected. But to go on for eight or nine hours was something else.

He grabbed the handle of the large sliding door and attempted to push it open. Locked. Or at least it was held firm by something. Drawing his pistol, he stepped back from the door and took a deep breath before calling out. "Annie? Monty? What the devil's goin' on?"

There was a sudden sound of scrambling, followed by... was that hooves. "What the hells goin' on in there?" he shouted again.

"Sorry boss," Monty's muffled voice called back. "Just fixing up a few things, mate. Be right there." Walker could hear a hushed conversation between Monty and Marianne, but couldn't catch the details. The sound of metal being pushed back indicated that the lock, or whatever else it was, being opened. Slowly, the large sliding door was pushed back.

"What in blue blazes..." Walker began before his eyes finally registered what was in the room. Like entering into a holy place, he removed his hat and studied the three new faces that turned to greet him. The chuffling sound each gave as they looked to see who this new person was that entered their new home. The back room had suddenly been transformed into a rustic stable.

Monty stepped up beside Walker as the elder was standing solemnly in the entrance. "Um... yer not gonna start ta cry, are ya, mate?"

Walker looked to Monty for a moment and just chuckled. He approached the brown quarter horse cautiously. The animal craned it's neck to inspect Walker carefully before reaching down to nuzzle Walker's hand, sniffing to see if there might be some food held there. Walker ran his hand down the length of the animal's neck, marveling all the while. Still standing beside the creature, Walker looked to the pair. "You two set all this up?"

"Don't look at me," Monty replied. "Blame her fer alla this, mate."

Marianne smirked at Monty before looking to Walker. She explained what happened, starting with the disease containers, staying cramped in a cubby hole for three or four hours, and seeing the treatment of the animals upon returning to port. Walker nodded as the blade mistress retold the story. "This probably won't sit right with the Family," Walker mused. He looked back to the brown quarter horse and sighed. "Screw 'em. Who cares if they can't take a joke," he said with a smirk. Marianne and Monty looked between each other before offering a kind smile toward the old gunslinger.

But each of them realized one thing. They were in a hostile land. More than likely hated already by most of the organizations on this island. Probably being gunned for at every turn.

But at least this was now home.

Within Temptation - Angels

A friend of mine introduced me to this band. They are a Dutch goth band and have been around since 1995 but haven't recorded that many albums, as they took a small break to continue their studies. The band's name is Within Temptation. This song, Angels.

Fully invested

This weekend has been a crazy one. Hockey games, craft sales, people getting ready for Christmas. But the craziest thing happened on Sunday. Saskatchewan became Grey Cup champions. Not that I didn't believe it could happen, but that it is the icing on the cake of a season that has been an incredible turn around. The Roughriders won it all on Sunday in an extremely huge defensive game.

I believed they could beat Calgary at home in the West semi-final.

I had faith they could beat the Lions in Vancouver. After all, their one win against the Lions came in BC.

And then to watch the 95th Grey Cup and have the Riders come away with a victory was sweet. But one thing impressed me much more than the win itself. It was how the players said that the fans were a big reason why they are where they are. All year long, each member of the team always pointed to the fans. In Kent Austin's words "what a place to win a championship."

Needless to say, the atmosphere in Regina today will be insane. A parade is planned for Tuesday, and from there, we can dream of the Grey Cup in Saskatchewan once again. Now, we just have to get ready for the encore.

Until next time...

Keep 'em flyin'.

Canyons of Steel - Lawman in a Lawless Land Pt 8

The pair walked slowly along the dock, letting the kinks work out of their muscles. They stayed in that compartment for three hours before it finally pulled into port in the William. The man who owned it was a legitimate businessman, even if her captain, hired to sail her, was not. The coast guard detained the ship, then sent her back. The containers of the disease were confiscated and sent to the CDC labs in Atlanta. All in all, a days work complete.

But it wasn't over yet.

"This'll be a hoot, explainin' this ta Walker," Monty commented as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Walker will understand," Marianne replied. A small ruckus along the dock caused her to look up. A ship was unloading horses, and the handler was being none to kind to the cargo. Smacking a grey filly viciously. Marianne scowled, and without thinking, she dashed off toward the handler, ignoring the pain that screamed in her muscles. She reached the handler, threw him up against a wall, and backhanded him across the face. For good measure, she slapped him with a hard, open hand. "Hurts, doesn't it?" she said with venom. "Give me those reigns," she added, ripping the leather reigns from the handler's hands.

"This is Don Maximus' goods," the handler spouted as he wiped blood from his face. "They gonna hear about this."

"Go ahead and tell them you lost the shipment, then," Marianne said with a smirk as she began to lead the filly down the length of the dock. There were two other horses standing at the dock and the former Sister with the Sisters motioned for Monty to lead them as well.

"Great, Annie," Monty called out to her as he held tight the reigns of a chestnut mare and a brown quarter horse. "Lovely, we saved the horses. Now what?"

Marianne just looked back without any answer. The action was implusive. The horses reminded her of the time she spent show jumping when a little girl on her family's estate in Sussex. But what to do with them now. They really couldn't keep horses. Unless...

"The back room, behind the storage area in the Safehouse," Marianne explained. "What about there?"

Monty blinked as he came to a stand still. The brown quarter horse nudged his shoulder, seemingly interested in this human, one of his saviours for rescuing him and the other pair from the hands of these men. "Ya sayin' we make a stable?"

"Why not?" Marianne shot back, and continued leading the horses off the dock and down the street of the William. "We'll keep the horses out of sight as we construct it. Should take only a day, if we work quickly enough."

"Marianne," Monty replied with a snort. "Walker's a Texan. Trying to hide horses from him is like trying to hide cheese from a mouse. The man probably already has some sixth sense that says we're bringin' horses home." Marianne didn't reply. She'd think of something, she always did. At least they saved the horses. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

Canyons of Steel - Lawman in a Lawless Land Pt 7

Sometimes yer gonna find that the best way we can help ourselves, is by doin' worse 'n what some men do. We may have ta take jobs we ain't gonna like. But we make a promise. Ain't gonna take no job 'gainst no honest folk. Any o' them scumbags out there, if we get word on somethin' they got an' we can use, then we take it. Just pray that we may be judged in a way less harsh.

Marianne and Monty quietly entered the ship. The old barge creaked as it rocked on the waves. They'd heard word that the vessel was carrying some cargo that might help them build their medical center. Because they certainly didn't trust the island's Medical System. They were given the job, snatch a few boxes, deliver them to their contact and leave.

The boxes, they found, were crates that they had to divert to the United States. And they contained a disease.

"Annie," Monty said in a whisper. "I gotta say, don't feel right 'bout this, love."

Marianne looked to Monty for a moment. She'd grown used to the nickname that he and Walker had given her, asking that they only use it while they were in the field. "Bloody hell. You pick now of all times to grow a conscious? We're halfway to Paragon. What do you propose?"

Monty furrowed his brow, and then gave Marianne a stern look. "There's a coupla people I know in Interpol. Give it ta them, an' then we scram."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Interpol? Are you completely loony?" She sighed in frustration and looked around the cargo hold of the ship. The containers of the disease sat in a false wall, just in case the coast guard stopped the boat for inspection. "Wait a minute. I've got an idea." She opened the false compartment, dragged out the four containers and moved toward a few packing crates. Carefully openning them, she slipped the containers in amongst food stuffs. "This will nail the boat captain. I've seen him around, not a very nice fellow. Come on." She motioned toward false compartment, and crawled in.

Monty stared in wonder at the woman. "You expect the two of us to fit in there?"

Marianne had crawled in and was sitting in what appeared to be a rather uncomfortable position. "Fine. Then you explain to the coast guard what your doing in the hold of this ship." Monty looked around for a moment for another hiding spot, then moved to the false wall, muttering as he crawled into cramped quarters with Marianne. "Get your bloody foot out of my face."

"Little hard, mate."

Once they both were comfortable, they replaced the false wall. "There. Now just to make sure the coast guard gets a call."

"Marianne," Monty said quietly as they sat in the cramped space.

"What is it?"

"Shouldn't we have done that before crawlin' into here?"

"Grab my comm, it's on my left hip," Marianne replied in a huff. "That's not my bloody comm, you pervert!"

"It's bloody dark in here."

Mariannne's muffled voice explained the situation to the coast guard. All they had to do was wait and it would be all over. In their cramped quarters, Monty spoke in a near whisper. "Marianne?"

"What?"

"You owe me a back massage for this, mate."

Canyons of Steel - Lawman in a Lawless Land Pt 6

"This ain't fair," the ganger screamed from behind a row of crates. "I carved this little piece of heaven for myself and I'm gonna keep it."

"Ain't nothin' personal," Walker shouted back as he squeezed off another round from his assault rifle. "We just need a place ta hunker down, an' Frankie tol' us ya might be willin' as long as ya vacated this here spot." Walker wasn't exactly impressed with what Heck had told them. Originally, the deal was take down Fancy, and he'd find them a place. There was nothing stated about having to clear out a den of gangers.

"Blood hell, mate," Monty shouted as he put two into an advancing Hellion. "Frankie never said a damned thing about us having a place filled with scorch marks 'r removing bodies from it."

"Maybe Frankie should be talked to," Marianne suggested in a calm and rational voice as she fired her crossbow.

"I doubt that any amount o' rational conversation'll sway the bastard fer us," Walker replied as he pushed a crate out of the way, revealing Guido Franetti, cowering against the wall. "Get yer ass up!"

"Don't shoot me. Please don't kill me." Franetti had been turned into a quivering puddle as he found it difficult to rise from the floor. Monty stepped forward and frowned, muttering about the stench. Bloody pissed himself. "Look, I'll... I'll leave. Just don't... don't shoot me, 'kay."

"Goddammit! Yer just some squirt kid," Walker observed with a sigh as he cradled the rifle. "Get yer ass up, an' get the hell outta here. An' don't let me 'r any o' us see ya in the William 'gain. Got it?" Guido crawled past the three before managing to find some purchase on his feet and sprinted out of the warehouse.

Walker took a cursory look around before giving out details. "Monty, that room over there looks like it'd be a decent one fer storage. Annie, see if ya can find what sorta electrical system we're lookin' at. How old it is. We may have ta start cullin' parts t'gether. I'll handle the bodies. When we're done the initial with the buildin', drag 'em down ta Sharkhead an' give 'em a proper burial." Both Monty and Marianne nodded, quickly moving out to take care of their orders.

Walker looked around one last time. Even with the death, scorch marks and all, he smiled.

Home. They finally found a home.

Canyons of Steel - Lawman in a Lawless Land Pt 5

Bullets flew across the room. Walker and Monty hunkered down behind a row of beaten up slot machines. Not that they weren't good before this little fire fight, in fact, they were being used quite a bit. Until the bullets started flying. The pair of Ex-Illuminati agents had busted into the speakeasy quickly, the intent was a warning for one cell of the Family mafia. Frankie Paddaluchi had told the two about this operation, after claiming to know of a good safe house they could use as a base of operations for themselves.

Do this for me, an' I'll hook you two up, capisce?

They never really expected this to be easy, but they also weren't expecting this kind of resistance. And then, they also weren't expecting the Capo to be a woman.

Fancy was her name, with mannerisms that would appear as unseeingly for someone to be associating with the hired gunsels of the Maximus Family. But she was as deadly as she was refined. "I always find it interesting when brutes such as yourselves attempt to rest from my hands the territory and materials that I have worked so very hard to acquire," she called out as she fired off a few rounds from her .38s. "Allow me to ask you gentlemen, what exactly do you believe that you were attempting to accomplish by an action such as this."

"Can I squeeze off a few rounds an' hope ta take her head off, mate," Monty said in a hoarse whisper. "Her bloody limey's the worst I've ever heard."

Walker would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. "Way I hear it, Ma'am, you been puttin' the squeeze on some honest folk 'round these parts. Somethin' like that just ain't right."

"My word, someone with a heart of gold," she called back with a laugh. "Such a thing as that is not commonly found in the Isles."

"Whyn't ya come here an' I'll show ya my heart o' gold while I'm puttin' a bullet through yer skull," Walker suggested, a touch of venom in his voice. He looked to Monty as he heard the shuffling of feet. The shooting had died down, and gunsels were moving into a better position. Walker and Monty wordlessly positioned themselves.

The guns started blazing again as gunsels tried dropping in on them, only finding ripping death as the guns held by the gunslingers took them out quickly and effortlessly.

"She in that bunch?" Walker asked in a loud voice, knowing the answer, using his words to taunt.

"No, mate," Monty replied, just as loud. "Dare say that's a lotta Armani that just got wasted, though. Bloody shame, ya ask me."

"Nah, it ain't no shame. I'd rather go fer a good pair o' Wranglers any day."

Fancy shook her head as she listened to the words coming from the pair. "Dreadful, truly dreadful that such as yourselves would even consider yourself at such a station as we are."

"Hell, Shiela. Ya boys're dead, an' we're still breathin'. I would gather that we're doin' alright. Whaddya say, mate?"

"Hell, boy," Walker replied with a chuckle. "I wager I'm gonna haveta agree with ya." Walker's voice had a smile in it, knowing right away, even before asking, what Fancy's answer to his upcoming proposition would be. "Darlin', tell ya what. Whyn't ya make this easy on yerself. Just call it off, agree ta Heck's terms an' we'll stop shootin'."

Fancy laughed aloud as though she were on stage. The mere thought of such a suggestion was, in truth, laughable. "And where, pray tell, would the profit be for such a venture as that?"

"Well," Walker replied with a smile. "Fer one, we'd stop usin' so many bullets. I think Monty here missed a coupla times."

"I bloody did not, mate," he remarked with a voice that sounded angry, but he couldn't help but smile as he spoke. He knew what Walker was doing. Wearing down the opponent with verbal jabs, and keeping them off guard. "Not like you hit one hundred percent..."

"Oh for!" Fancy finally cried out in dramatic voice and posture. "I give you... gentlemen the same offer you gave me. Give up, and I'll allow you to crawl back to Heck, and receive whatever punish..."

Her words were cut off as she stared at the serrated blade that now protruded from her chest. She marveled at it for a while as she watched the blood begin to drip from the wound. And then she felt the arm wrap around her throat, and her body thrust backward, held fast by a muscular, yet lithe individual.

"Let me guess, Miss Fancy," Marianne Wollcott whispered in Fancy's ear. "A little girl from Oregon wished to be British, and far higher than her station. So, she joined with Don Maximus, first as a whore, and then worked close to the Don and secured herself some property. All the while pretending to be, oh so Shakespearean. How borish. Bloody colonial." Marianne pulled the serrated blade back, ripping new wounds into the woman's flesh. Fancy fell to the floor, tears streaming down her eyes.

"I could... I could have had everything..."

"No," Marianne replied with a whisper, knowing full well that the life had ebbed from Fancy. "No you couldn't. Because this was always your fate." She surveyed the room as the gunsels looked to her. One held up his gun and Marianne replied by pointing her blade in his direction. "If any of you fools knew who you were dealing with, then all of you berks would have run scared well before this fight ever started. Your so called boss was an ignorant bitch. She deserved what she got."

"Is she bloody dead?" Monty called out as he peeked over a crate. "Shite! Walker..." The gunslinger sat up, and peeked over the crate. What he saw was an amazing sight. The gunsels tossed down their weapons as they warily watched the woman who had just killed Fancy.

"Son of a bitch," Walker whispered.

"Aren't the Sisters sticking close to the Web?" Monty asked in a hoarse whisper.

"She ain't a Knife," Walker said with a smile as he pointed toward the woman. "The patches. They been ripped off. She cut an' run, just like us."

Marianne stood her ground as the gunslingers crawled out from their bunker, weapons trained on her. "This is not exactly the reception I had hoped for," she said with a scowl.

"Then respect the fact that it ain't usual procedure fer a member, whether ties 'r cut 'r not, o' the Sisters come save us poor ass the Illuminati."

"Ex-Illuminati, if I remember correctly," Marianna replied.

"Bloody hell," Monty said as he lowered his gun and looked to Walker. "She's good."

Walker nodded to the woman as he lowered his rifle. The frays on the patches weren't new. They'd been ripped off a while ago. "What's yer name, darlin'?"

"Marianne Wollcott," she said quickly. "And if I might say, Operative Violet Rose, your reputation proceeds you. Your exploits are known amongst the members of the Sisters."

"Why you quit?" he asked as he pointed to the torn patches.

Marianne looked down to her shoulder and then back to Walker. "Do you know of Stewart Industries?"

"'Course I do," Walker said with a scoff. "One o' the biggest biogenetic an' pharmaceutical companies in the western hemisphere. Have ta be an idiot not ta know. Why?"

"My sister, Maxine Wollcott, was the personal secretary for the CEO, Derrik Stewart," Marianne explained, a cold look in her eyes. "A sect of the Sisters killed her when Mandrake attempted a very hostile take over of the company. Mandrake failed, and my sister paid the ultimate price. I left the Sisters as soon as I learned what happened."

Walker nodded as Marianne gave her reasons. He studied her for a long while, sensing there was no disception at work. "Ya realize what me an' Monty 're doin'?"

"Law in a lawless land?"

He smirked as he heard the answer. "Well, I guess ya do. Ya ain't gettin' no feelin's o' takin' that pig sticker ta me 'r Monty, an' darlin', we'll get 'long just fine." He looked back to Monty and smiled. "Three o' us is better 'n two. What say we go back ta Heck an' see what he's got fer us in the form o' property ta set up our shingle."

Monty nodded and flashed a smile to Marianne. She merely responded with a nod, not falling for the perceived charm from the Aussie. But at least now, she had allies. And ones she had known of from her former life. Things in the William were about to get more interesting.