Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 7

The soldiers watched quietly as Weaver mages entered the room. A high ranking soldier looked over to Amen'Dell as the Weavers began the ritual. He didn't like dealing with theories and suppositions that came with wild cards. He wanted hard evidence. "As you have stated, elf," he said with words tipped in acid. "This will bring about a weapon which we can use. Something which we can set upon our enemies." It was more a statement than a question. Repeating what had already been told to them.

Amen'Dell sighed and looked to the man. "Yes, as I did state before. You must learn patience, Marsden. It is a virtue that I hold quite dear."

"As you've stated before, you have a thousand years with which your kind can wait," Marsden pointed out. "We... humans, as you have often reminded us, do not have this luxury."

Amen'Dell merely lifted his hand to quiet Marsden. The ceremony was about to begin. Weaver mages began chanting as the runic obelisk began to glow eerily. Heritage Front soldiers held their weapons tightly in the event that things went wrong. The air became crisp and warm. The scent that comes with acid filled the room. Small orbs of light began to dance around the room. Torches extinguished as a rush of air went through the room. A large cracking sound filled the room, and the soldiers braced themselves for the worst. The obelisk seemed to shatter, but the pieces suddenly stopped in mid air, as the glowing orbs rushed to the place where it stood. A scream of anger suddenly filled the room. The pieces of the obelisk slammed back together with great violence, and the sound became deafening.

And as soon as it began, it was over.

The obelisk was whole again. And there was someone chained to it. An elven female, dressed in rags, hung by a set of manacles. The Weavers held shocked looks on their faces, as Marsden sighed heavily. "I didn't need a slave girl," he muttered to Amen'Dell.

"Just watch," the elven wizard said quietly, a knowing smile on his lips.

One of the Weavers stepped forward inspecting the woman. In his hand he held a key, given to him by Amen'Dell. The elven wizard knew all too well what this ritual would summon, and had made preparations. The Weaver unlocked the woman's manacles and lifted her off of the obelisk. His only mistake, but a fatal one. The woman's eyes lit up as she felt the man's touch, and she opened her mouth in a blood curdling scream. Her true nature revealed, an elven vampire. She drew upon strength held in reserve and began to feed off the man. Once complete, she tossed his carcass to the side and looked around.

"More..." she hissed as she moved with lightning reflexes, catching another Weaver. "MORE!" The Weavers panicked and tried to run, only finding themselves cut down quickly. The slaughter took only minutes as the elven vampire laughed with glee, her power back where it belonged. She finished the last Weaver and looked toward her new targets. The soldiers of the Front. But something stopped her from attacking. She saw Amen'Dell and smiled. "You kept your end of the bargain, sweetie," she said with a twisted grin as blood dripped down from her hungry fangs. "And so, I will spare your life."

"And, you will spare these men as well," he motioned to soldiers. "These are new friends I have made. They can give us so much power." He smiled as he studied the vampire's reaction.

Yar'ow grinned and laughed maniacally as she heard his words, clapping her hands with excitement. "Power, power power! It shall be mine!" she seemed to sing. "An army to help me. For I feel such a grand slaughter is comin' ta this world. So many victims, so lil time. Where shall we b'gin, love?"

Amen'Dell chuckled lightly with her enthusiastic display. Yes, the Front now had their weapon. And soon, he would have his own.

And the high guild of the Elven Councils would not know what hit them.

The End... For Now

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 6

The lithe elf set her gear down on the hardwood floor of the Safehouse and she let out a slow whistle as she looked around. "It's quite rustic in 'ere, I'll give ye tha'," she said with a coy smile. "I bet ye rent 'round this place is decent." She leaned lightly against the doorway that lead to the stables, three horses chuffled quietly in the background. "Bu' then, I doubt ye really concern yeself with such trivial matters."

Johnathon Walker stood firm and crossed his arms. There was an explanation that was promised, and he was going to wait on it. But not forever. The look in his eyes held some frustration. First, they'd been set up. Second, this new gunslinger comes around with promise of aid. And third...

Well, at least they got paid.

Pania cleared her throat and coughed. Walker's glare was making her uneasy. It didn't help that Monty's glare was equal to his elder. And Marianne's... just so cold. The pale elf looked to the three for a moment as she took a seat in an old rickety chair and began to speak. "All the thin's tha' ye know. Ev'rythin' ye've 'eard in the past o' myths an' wha'no'. Take 'em an' toss 'em ta the winds. B'cause as o' righ' now, they all change." She leaned back in the chair as Walker pulled up on of his own, followed slowly by Marianne and Monty. "The universe is made up o' more 'n anythin' tha' we've ever know. Places tha' some cannu dream o'. I think it's obvious tha' I'm no' 'uman, an' I'm no' from this world."

"I think I 'ad that figured out, Sheila," Monty said with a soft snort. "Ya look like a reject from that 'orrid Dungeons an' Dragons movie."

Pania rolled her eyes and gave a snort of her own. "I'd rather people equated me own kind with somethin' more Tolkien, if ye please. Bu' little matter. It's no' a long shot in describin' me own 'ome world as bein' rather backwards in comparison ta this world. Very swords an' sorcery, ye might say. As opposed ta the modern technology o' this world. An' Amen'Dell also be from me own world."

"I take it he's some sorta outlaw on yer world," Walker offered his own observations. "An' yer some kinda bounty hunter, I take it."

"Sorta," Pania remarked. "On me own world, I'm a bard, a songstress, a storyteller. An' a storyteller does any manner o' thin' ta write an epic tale fer the masses."

"Sounds like the bloody papparazzi here," Marianne quipped as she crossed her arms.

"Again, sorta," Pania smirked as she gazed over Marianne for a moment. "'Cept we dunna chase down royalty on motorcycles."

"Exactly how long you been," Walker paused mid thought as he formulated the proper words. "...hoppin' back an' forth b'tween yer world an' this one." It was all rather surreal. He was sitting, having a civil conversation with a being not of Earth. Not human.

"'Bout two 'undred years now," Pania said without missing a beat. Monty snorted and shook his head. "The lifetime o' them connected ta the Fey folk is a lo' longer 'n the short lives o' 'umankind," she replied to Monty's action. "Some o' us 'ave lived o'er a thousand years. I'm young in comparison."

"So, what, ya take any o' the things ya find here on Earth back ta yer own world?" Walker asked with some curiosity.

"No," Pania replied without hesitation. "The creations o' this world would only serve ta destroy the weave o' me own world. Magic is as common there as reality television is 'ere. Them like Amen'Dell, 'owever, they would like materials from 'ere ta be sent ta me own world. 'E made an offer ta give power ta the Front 'ere on Earth in exchange fer a supply o' weapons. I found out 'e planned on takin' 'em back ta me own world. An' I plan on stoppin' 'im."

"What exactly is it that this... Amen'Dell were offerin' the Front?"

Pania sighed slightly and looked out the window of the rustic building. In the street beyond, merchants were closing their shops and packing away their market items. The end of another day was upon them. "I dunna know fer certain. But knowin' Amen'Dell, ye want ta find out." She turned to look to the three again. "An' ye'll want ta destroy it."

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 5

The trio hunkered down behind a service box as soldiers began firing in their direction. Someone fired, but Walker had no idea who. One minute he watched as the adjutant discussed shipping orders with the sergeant, the next his brains were splattered across the pavement. Walker hated wild cards. And suddenly, there was a wild card. The three didn't return fire, hoping the possibly the Illuminati would merely fire indiscriminately toward some target. He watched as another target went down. This seemed to come from a completely different area. A sniper. He watched the rooftops for a moment as they remained hidden. Monty and Marianne waited for orders, watching carefully themselves.

"Whoever's fightin'," Walker said slowly as he pulled up his scarf. "Is keepin' on the move. From the rooftops."

"Whoever it is must be fast," Monty added as he watched the rooftops carefully. His eyes narrowed as he caught a glint of light from the setting sun. "But whoever it is, ain't completely perfect. There." He motioned toward the building nearest them. "Up there."

"Time ta crawl," Walker said as he began to crawl on the ground on his stomach. "Monty, take the other buildin'. Mary, keep watch an' keep us posted." The three separated quickly, dodging the incoming bullets. The firing was sporadic, as the sniper picked off another Illuminati agent. Walker curses under his breath. He hated wild cards and that was exactly what this was. He had no clue who the sniper was, but he did know that whoever it was, was a damn good shot. It almost seemed as though the sniper were clearing a path for them.

Marianne watched the movements of the sniper carefully, narrowing her eyes as she recognized a slight pattern. She predicted the next location and started to move toward it, hoping that she'd be able to catch whoever it was before the next volley. She rushed into a condemned building, obviously one that had seen much better days. An old hardware store by the look of the interior. More than likely the owner went bankrupt, or was pushed into early retirement by Don Maximus' men. Whatever the history, Marianne kept herself focused as she mounted the stairway to the rooftop. Keeping close to the shadows, she saw the mark getting set up. She furrowed her brow for a moment, thinking that this was a young boy. But the tell tale signs told her differently. She drew her pistol and aimed it at the figure. "While we appreciate the assistance, I worry that you may turn that weapon on us." Her voice was even and seemed cold as she spoke.

"Well then," Pania Alow said with a slight smirk. "It'd seem tha' I go' a wee bit careless in me movements. Guess I'll 'aveta remember tha' fer next time."

"If there is a next time," Marianne replied in a low tone. Her pistol was trained evenly at Pania's head.

"Ye know, love," the small elf said with a slight coo in her voice. "I think we're aimin' fer the same targets, bu' diff'rent means ta diff'rent ends. Ye want ta recover tha' crate tha's in there," she said, revealing how much she knew. Marianne held her expression well, but was surprised the woman knew as much as this. "I want ta destroy it."

"Destroy it," Marianne repeated, some disbelief coming out in her voice.

"We keep the agents off ye friends," Pania said as she replaced her clip. "An' I'll give ye the full story. I promise." The last she used her persuasive manner to convince Marianne of the urgency of the situation. For some reason, this woman seemed extremely persuasive to make Marianne move to assist her. Granted, Monty's voice over the comm helped the message from Pania more.

"We're stuck in a fire fight, Sheila," he shouted over the comm. "Could really use some support!"

Monty had hunkered down in a bombed out building, using the weakened walls as cover. The agents, both Illuminati and Front, caught sight of him. It was risky, but the position he needed to reach was a difficult one, and he knew that the chance of him being seen was a good one. But he still had to try. And now he was stuck. Every thirty to forty seconds he would return fire that was being directed at him, hearing the impact of their bullets on the surrounding area, while distinctly hearing his own burrow into a pair of agents. His prayers were soon answered as a pair of familiar gunshots were heard, quickly followed by screams for retreat. Walker wasn't far away. The Aussie gunslinger smirked as the old gun hand rolled behind the barricade that Monty had found. "S'prised ta see ya here, boy," Walker said with a chuckle.

"Aye, mate," Monty said as his fears were allayed. "So, we gonna do what comes natural?"

Walker winked and drew his Colt. "Straight shootin', boy. We'll leave them up 'bove ta snipe them we can't see." Monty gave a confident nod as he drew his own pistol. As the pair lept out from cover, the bullets began to rain in, but carefully placed shots, along with excellent cover fire, kept them moving. And move they did. "What's the situation look like, Mary?" Walker shouted into his comm.

"We have a new ally," Marianne replied casually. "And she says everything can be explained. It would appear that we are merely being used. I would say that quite possibly we could end up dead had it not been for Miss Alow. It would seem she knows Amen'Dell all too well."

"Alow," Walker replied with a huff as he squeezed off a pair, not even watching as a pair of agents fell to the ground. "Never heard a name like that b'fore."

"Maybe she's Canadian," Monty shouted as he fired point blank toward an oncoming attacker. The Illuminati agent fell quickly, never really knowing what hit him. The pair of gunslingers strode confidently into the warehouse, catching sight of the well labelled crate. There was the target, but something was most definitely wrong. It would seem that the man who promised them payment was already here. Walker trained his gun on the one wearing the fancy robes, and Monty followed suit. "I think we've been duped, Walker."

"I'd say yer right, Monty," Walker spoke, loud enough for Amen'Dell to hear. "Maybe there should be an explanation comin'. I figure it's only fair."

Amen'Dell laughed under his breath as he lowered the hood that covered his head and turned to face his attackers. The sharp points of his elven heritage revealed to both gunslingers. Monty looked to Walker and mutter quietly. "Definitely not Canadian. But I figure a reject from a Star Trek convention, mate." Walker never replied, but kept his hand steady as he trained the barrel on Amen'Dell.

"Gentlemen," the elf replied with a smile. "I thank you most humbly for making sure that the local government here had no clue what was transpiring. You see, I needed a diversion. Normally, I would simply tap into the weave, and produce an illusion. But here, the weave is weak, and I do not know how to manipulate it."

"Walker..." Monty said in a hoarse whisper, never taking his eyes off the elf.

"We're out gunned," Walker commented without looking. And sure enough, the hidden agents began to crawl out of the woodwork. If Monty and Walker fired now, they'd be gunned down, no matter how good they were, or what back up they had. The old gun hand could tell that backup was coming, as hastened footsteps rushed from behind. Pania Alow and Marianne Wollcott stopped suddenly as rifles pointed toward them. Each knew that they didn't have a chance, and lowered their weapons without protest. At least, none that was visible on their faces.

"Well then," Walker announced as he lowered his gun. "I'd say that we have here what we call a Mexican standoff. But we can make it easy. You still owe me the other cut."

Amen'Dell laughed aloud at that. "And you'll let me go," he said, sounding a little less than impressed or convinced.

"You have my word," Walker said as he holstered the pistol. Monty looked to him for a moment, the question of his sanity in the Aussie's eyes. But Walker kept his eyes firm on Amen'Dell. And the elf seemed to grow uneasy.

"Your word," he repeated. "I have you that you do keep your word." The mage snapped his fingers and a soldier came forward with a satchel. The elf motioned for it to be delivered to the gunslingers. "Your payment. And now, we shall leave." Another snap of his fingers, and the soldiers began to retreat. Weapons still trained on the small group, but holding their fire. The elf and the remaining soldiers disappeared into the belly of an armoured transport, and Walker could only watch as it fired up and drove off. His eyes never left it until it had disappeared in the distance.

And then he turned to look to their new acquaintance. "Explanations, huh?"

Pania Alow took a deep breath as she shouldered her Winchester Model 70. "I did promise tha', didna I." Walker nodded slowly as Monty and Marianne seemed to take up position without word of an order from the gunslinger. Pania found herself surrounded. "I do 'ave ta go after 'im," she said as she removed her bandanna, revealing her own elven heritage to the trio.

"An' you will," Walker drawled. "With our help. You have my word."

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 4

The trio moved quietly through the alleyways of the slum districts of The William. Nobody ever came here. At least, no one who wanted to live. The lowest forms of life on the face of the planet took this region as their own. Not even Don Maximus ever sent his men here. But Walker knew what lay in the darkness. Illuminati agents and members of the Sisterhood used these places for clandestine meetings and covert practice maneuvers. Walker knew all too well what those were like. These were reserved for those few who had potential, but had failed in one way shape or form. Marianne knew all too well about this area also. She spent time here before hooking up with Walker and Monty.

They steered their horses through the muck and mire, quietly watching for any movement that would alert them to danger. Marianne's head whipped to the rooftop quickly. She stopped her horse and watched as a figure crouched down on the rooftop above them. Walker and Monty stopped also. Wordlessly, they looked to Marianne, then to the rooftop. They too saw the figure. Whoever it was, they weren't hiding very well. "Too small to be one of the monstrosities in this area," Marianne spoke in a whisper.

Walker nodded, never taking his eyes off the figure. "An' don't move like any agent I seen b'fore." The three just watched for a moment, a staring contest in the middle of this danger zone. On the rooftop, Pania Alow stared right back, watching carefully these three horsemen. So far, all indications pointed to them being honourable, if not a little trigger happy at times. But then, she could relate, as her hand hovered over the butt of her Glock. Maybe these three would be of use after all. Eventually, Walker motioned to keep moving, and the three carried on as though nothing had happened.

The destination came into view. An old abandoned warehouse. This region used to be a rich shipping port. But years of thieves and cutthroats moving into the area changed all of that. The respectable clientèle moved away as the bullies began to push them for protection money. The economy of the area began to shatter, and eventually became what it is today. A barren wasteland of abandoned buildings, and rats scuttling around in the darkness. Walker slowed his horse to a stop, taking note of those who guarded it. He furrowed his brow as he recognized the uniforms of those that hurried around, carrying packages and taking stock of inventory. The only sign of life in this ghost town.

"I don't like this," he whispered. Monty and Marianne could tell by the sound of his voice what they were about to face.

"Christ," Monty cursed under his breath. "Illuminati. Dealing with the Front." And so it was, a well dressed adjutant of the white supremest group Heritage Front, was going over a clip board with, one could only assume, shipping instructions. The Illuminati were supplying them in this region. "This can't end well, Walker."

"Maybe we'll clean out a few rats," Walker muttered as he pulled his long barrel Colt. "What say you?" The responce was clear. Marianne and Monty both pulled weapons out and quickly dismounted their horses. They'd move together, or not at all. This fight wouldn't be easy, that was most certain. Soldiers from both the Heritage Front and the Illuminati would start firing. This thought was pushed back in Walker's mind as the three moved close to the buildings, watching the entrance of the warehouse carefully. Above them, the lithe figure of Pania moved also, and she too watched the entrance of the warehouse. But she had her sniper rifle in hand. These three were going to need backup against this group. And she would give it to them. Her curiosity about the package Amen'Dell wanted from this warehouse had piqued within her. Though she had no doubt that she would have to destroy it.

Take a weapon from the enemy, make them weaker.

She stopped at the edge of the rooftop, glancing to the trio below her. The shadows had ended. The comfort of the buildings had given way to a long stretch of open. Little to no cover. They could be here for a while.

Or she could cause a distraction.

Moving into a prone position, she readied the rifle, making certain her sites were lined up. The adjutant would make an excellent target to begin the chaos that was about to come. Before getting ready, she quickly scanned the area, determining her next position. Staying in one place for too long was not a good idea. Once it was determined, she looked down to the trio's position. They looked about ready to move. Which was all the signal Pania needed. She lined up her sites, placed her finger on the trigger, waited a moment as everything around her seemed to grow silent.

And then she pulled the trigger.

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 3

They steered the horses along the path carefully. So far they had only received a few sideways glances, and nothing more. Walker knew, however, that each of those looks could have meant death. There were enough on these islands who wanted him and his crew dead. But a word of honour from Don Maximus kept everyone's hand still. No one would draw the blood of these three without feeling the Don's wrath. Walker still didn't know why he made that oath, considering the the Mafia's claim on these islands, and Walker's wish to change that claim. The old gunhand pushed those thoughts aside as Monty motioned toward the crest of a small hill. There was the contact, dressed in the most exotic and finest of robes.

"Buggerin' dandy," Monty muttered.

"Keep the observations 'till after we discuss details o' the contract, wouldja Monty," Walker said in a slow and even tone, even if he was thinking just the same thing. The three urged the horses forward as Walker discussed how they would approach things. "We stay in the saddle an' talk. No movin'. It'll put us at a bit o' an advantage. So far, we been lucky in this region. Ain't seen any agents o' the Illuminati 'r the Sisterhood. It might not stay that way." Walker became silent as they came within fifty feet of the mark. They stopped the horses and waited. The mark wore red and gold coloured robes, his face hidden under a hooded cloak. Two men stood on either side of the man, much larger and seemed to be his body guards. Marianne tensed just a bit as she studied to two flanking the mark and turned to look at Walker. He knew something was up by the look in her eyes and let out a long breath as he reached into his coat pocket for his cigarette holder. "Mornin'," he called out as he took out a cigarette. "Nice 'nough mornin', ain't it."

The mark seemed to look up and moved a little closer, closing the gap between himself and the three riders. His bodyguards followed suit. "It is, indeed," he replied in a calm voice, touched with the sound of nobility. "I assume that you and your friends are ones I have heard so much about. The ... sherrif and his deputies?"

"Ya could call us that," Walker replied as he studied the man. "Word is you've got some piece o' property that needs recoverin'."

"Indeed I do," Amen'Dell replied with a smile in his voice. "It is a rather old artifact. It holds a great deal of ... what is the word ... ah yes, it holds a sort of affection in my family. You could say that it is an heirloom. Something that has been in my family for many a generation."

Walker's horse shifted under his weight as he studied the man some more. The tone of his voice indicated something less than honest about his statement, but Walker made no mention of his feelings aloud. He would do that later, out of earshot. "So what exactly is it ya want recovered?"

"Direct and to the point," Amen said with a grin. "I like that in a man. The object is one of rare value. It has been in my... family, for several generations now. It holds special value to me. And since my arrival here, it has fallen into some rather unscrupulous hands. I believe, as my associates have informed me, that these men are gunslingers. Much like yourselves, as a matter of fact."

Walker looked to Monty, and then Marianne. Gunslingers. That possibly meant Illuminati. This man's property was in the hands of his old organization, one he did not look forward to seeing again for a long, long time. "That's a might dangerous, goin' up 'gainst gunslingers. B'cause I b'lieve I know who ya speak of." Walker's horse shifted again under his weight.

"Does this pose a problem?" Amen replied in a slightly sadistic tone. "I believe I was very generous in the amount of money I was offering."

"It ain't the money," Walker remarked. "That's fine 'nough. But they are dangerous men."

"I could take my services elsewhere..."

"I b'lieve we've got it covered," Walker replied, seemingly cutting the man off mid sentence. "The three o' us 're 'bout the only ones equipped ta deal with the likes o' them anyway."

Amen smiled again and snapped his fingers. "Excellent." One of his body guards tossed over a satchel that Marianne caught with ease. As she confirmed the amount, Amen explained the details. "I expect my package to be delivered in 24 hours. At that point, I will pay the remaining amount. Should you take longer than 24 hours, you will sacrifice the final amount. And should you fail completely... Well... Let us not hope that happens." Amen turned and walked down the path away from the small meeting place, leaving the three riders to contemplate his last words.

"Can I put a slug through his brain pan?" Monty muttered lightly.

"Ain't doin' nuthin' o' the sort," Walker replied as he steered his horse. "But I sense you have the same feelin's 'bout this bastard that I do. Best ta keep on our toes." The three steered their horses back the way they came, concentrating on the task at hand. None of them, Walker and his crew nor Amen, could detect the figure that hunkered down in the grass only fifty feet away. Pania Alow popped up and watched the riders as they left. They might be her best chance. They would be able to get into the compound and secure the object. And then it was a matter of destroying it. But those three...

"Curiouser an' curiouser," Pania muttered. "May'aps a new ally. 'R per'aps a new enemy. Guess we'll wait an' see."

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 2

His cloak billowed in the wind as he stood on the rock face that looked out onto the waters of the triangle. These islands, with such history, and he would only add to it. But to do that, he would have to make such alliances as with those that would populate the area. He spent several years studying the different organizations that seemed to be the most powerful and would suit his needs. Interpol, CSIS Paranormal Division and even MI-5 Paranormal Division were definitely out of the question for his needs. He would have to rely on those with much more clandestine actions.

The Weavers at first looked promising, as did the Forgotten Ones. But each in it's own right held onto the past and refused to accept new ways. This was a problem. Don Maximus was too well known. Illuminati, too secret. This left the organization known as the Heritage Front. They would fit his needs perfectly. Especially when he suggested that he could raise a real vampire to lead their soldiers in battle. This was much more promising to the leaders of the Front. Especially when they spent so much time creating fake vampires and werewolves to fill in for their army.

They just needed the proper materials. And one of those materials needed to be transported by someone unsuspecting. The hiring of mercenaries, while not particularly wanted, was the only solution. And even better when one of honour is found, and with the proper story concocted, then any man would follow along. And now, information had reached his ears that indeed such a man had been reached. His real name was unknown, but he went by one of two names; Operative Violet Rose and Derringer. A gunslinger with old west honour and justice in his heart. The right story would indeed be required. And if they died, then mores the pity. Such is life in the Isles.

"Sir," a smartly dressed adjutant spoke in a respectful tone. "Reports coming in of three people on horseback."

The man in the expensive looking robes nodded in response, looking in the direction the adjutant mentioned. "Let them come. We shall deal with the in a business-like fashion. After all, we have the right information to give them. They won't back down from what we tell them," he replied finally in his impeccable speech. The adjutant nodded, nearly bowing to the man, and turned to carry out his duties as the man remained where he was. The wind again picked up the cloak, billowing it out just slightly, almost as if it were a signal to him. And he pulled the hood away from his head, letting long, golden trusses of hair flow free around his shoulders. The long hair barely hid his heritage, his finely pointed ears betraying his elven ancestry. And if anyone on Earth were to have an clue, they might have recognized the amulet that hung about his neck. A red wizard. On his world, much more powerful than anything on Earth, but on this third rock from old sol, he had to rebuild his power.

Amen'Dell Ger'utinam breathed deep as he smiled, today would definitely be a good day. He scanned the horizon carefully. The three riders were in the distance. This "sherriff" and his "deputies", as he learned was the proper term for a man such as this. His mind was distracted as a glint of light caught his attention. Amen'Dell furrowed his brow and snapped his fingers, motioning toward the direction he saw the light. "Please see what that was," he said in a calm voice. "I'll not have anything disturb this meeting. And I won't tolerate failure." The adjutant snapped to attention then moved to carry out his orders. Amen'Dell turned his attention from the light back to the riders. Nothing would stop him. He was too close now.

Had he continued to study the reflection, he might understand more without having to send troops to investigate. Two hundred meters away, a lithe figure of a woman lowered her binoculars. She quickly stored them and took out a rifle, making certain it was loaded. This woman was similar to Amen'Dell in a way. At least, in heritage. The slender frame, the pale skin, and her sharp tipped ears. The one thing that gave away her elven heritage. But she knew Earth technology all too well. Pania Alow began to hunker down in a small culvert, waiting patiently. She'd been following this elven mage for months since he arrived on Earth from their home plane. He was dangerous. And he had to be stopped. But she needed to find out what he was searching for.

Canyons of Steel - Minus Human Pt. 1

The mark came in. Malcolm Montgomery Watt took the message as he sat at his table, casually drinking his beer. Across the table, John Walker kept his head down as he pretended to work on the daily crossword puzzle. They often did this, the pair of gunslingers sitting in a darkened tavern as they waited for some mark to inform them of some major happening. As they did this, Marianne patrolled the joint, listening for anything of interest. A few of the patrons knew to look for them, as did a few who worked the tavern. Call it payment for protecting the Oakes and Cap.

"We got it," Monty whispered as he pushed a slip of paper underneath his palm toward Walker. The old gunhand set his pen down next to Monty's hand and took the slip of paper.

"Got any idea what a seven letter word fer 'Slipped' would be?" he asked casually as the Aussie smirked.

"Bananas," Marianne suggested as she approached the table. Her voice lowered to a whisper as she took a seat. "What have we got?"

John Walker had taken the paper and laid it out on the crossword, making it so it still looked like he was working on the puzzle. "Recovery," he simply said. "Needa pick somethin' up from a shipment comin' in. Guess there's some gentleman needs somethin' picked up an' moved without the Don's crew findin' out 'bout it."

"What's the pay?" Monty said with interest. A retrieval operation would mean things might move smoothly. As good as they were, the idea of having to work some gun play wasn't looked upon fondly. If need be, they'd do it, but jobs like this one were always looked upon as a better opportunity. So much better the chance of not being shot at.

"Good chuck o' change," Walker replied with a low whistle. "Sayin' 250 upfront once we meet 'im, an' 250 'pon completion."

"I take it that's in the thousands," Monty said with wide eyed enthusiasm. Walker just smiled and nodded. "Well, then. What're we waitin' for? Who is this guy we gotta meet with?"

"Some fella name o' Darkenson," Walker said as he looked to the slip of paper covering the crossword puzzle. "Guess this thing is pretty important to 'im, 'cause he says he needs it d'livered ta some warehouse in Saint Mika."

"Bloody..." Monty said in a low voice. "Saint Mika. Mafia don't even head out there unless they plan on cuttin' from the Don an' go rogue."

"Add to that," Marianne spoke up. "There are reports of agents from both the Illuminati and the Sisterhood that populate the island. Even if it is in the shadows." She took a deep breath as she thought back to her time patrolling under the Web.

"No one ever said this were gonna be easy," Walker replied. He folded up his newspaper, slip of paper inside, and rose to his feet. "We best get ourselves ready ta meet this man. Get the full details from him." Marianne and Monty nodded in unison as they rose as well, gathering their gear and leaving money for the drinks they had.

The trio was known in the island very well. They had become saviours to many of the common people, and a bane to those looking to make a name for themselves. Many of the businesses such as the tavern they vacated had made it known their presence was welcome. Even going so far as adding a set of hitching posts in front of the tavern for their three horses.

John Walker waited on his horse as his comrades mounted their's. He nodded to each as they looked to him, and they steered the horses toward Port William to meet with this strange man.