Relief hit the inexperienced traveler as he reached the shade of the cliff. He walked deeper in, away from the town, there was no way they would make their hidden entrance in sight range of the citizens. Some of the few enhancements Gunnar had were vision related. Low level heat detection, cheap, not great, but did the job he wanted it for. Hopefully they would come in handy here too.

So, the mercenary kept walking, occasionally checking for any sign of change in temperature, or indication of life in the walls, or under the sand, save for the cactus and hustle behind him there was nothing. He rounded the corner to a little alcove and here was where he noticed a difference.

It was slight. Only slight. A cooler patch, enough for a small room or entrance hidden somewhere nearby. Either they had a techie with them, or one of Puinsee’s gifts was the gift of air conditioning.

Though where exactly this top secret entrance was he couldn’t tell. He searched between rocks, around cacti, tapping along the ground and the cliff edge. There was nowhere within the cool patch that screamed out to him. Hidden was definitely not an understatement.

What could he do then? Just wait and hope? Gunnar thought to himself and eventually stumbled upon a reckless idea, but hopefully one that would work. In the end, he just had to call out Devon. Surely the man would be intrigued into how he knew his name and there was no doubt the mercenary was being watched right now, so close to their home.The only risk of that plan was Devon just straight up shooting Gunnar or having him killed by some hidden trap. He would prefer a non-fatal result frankly. Gunnar realised he had to be quite particular and careful with what he said and also pray he was right about a few assumptions.

He had one last look around before giving up and sitting on a rock near the center of the small crevice. The Mercenary cleared his throat. ‘Hey Devon! Devon of the Gospel of Puinsee. I’ve been looking for you and I’m no friend to the beast. Looking for a way to fight them if possible, they’re causing complete chaos in the city. Look, if you want that thing dead come and chat, that’s all I want.’

Gunnar waited for a reply. Sat down for minutes with no noise, no indication of movement. There was every chance he had just shouted aimlessly into a group of rocks. Maybe the temperature difference was some kind of anomaly and nothing more. Still, he waited.

The cool rock touched his back as the mercenary lay down on it. He already found himself in the middle of the wasteland, so far from home. Was there any reason not to just try and wait? Not forever of course, but if he was right then perhaps eventually this Devon would respond. He looked up to the sky, the rocky walls shielding him from the deathly sun’s glare, just the sight of an endless sky. A feeling rushed over him, like if he kept staring at it he’d fall up into it, endlessly.

So he closed his eyes and, when he finally opened them an hour or so later, he found he was looking into the barrel of five guns. Gunnar blinked after his impromptu nap. He looked between the wielders of said weaponry. Indeed, they were a part of the Gospel of Puinsee, their outfits were unmistakable. Though, these ones were wearing slightly different uniforms. More belts and rigs, holding up ammo and equipment like grenades. Their outfits were also more worn and ragged in places, though still completely insulated. One of them, though, had a strange looking weapon with a pipe going into a small pack on their back.

In between the rest of the group stood one that had nicer armour, and had only a pistol on his hip, though it did also have a pipe reaching around to his back. On his head sat a corroded shape resembling a crown. Gunnar scoffed. ‘You’re Devon I presume.’

One of the cultists knocked Gunnar back down with the butt of his gun, the mercenary groaned from the pain, feeling blood leak from the wound. Clearly this was a speak only when spoken to scenario.

Devon stepped forward. ‘Drop your weapon and then we will talk as you wanted.’ A faint stench of true garlic wafted into the mercenary’s nose.

Gunnar wanted to complain that it was too hot to start a firefight anyway, but he also didn’t fancy getting a large metal gun smacked over his head again, so he did what the cult leader wanted. He held the SMG by its barrel and then tossed it behind him, praying that the very expensive weapon wasn’t also very fragile. The cultists lowered their own guns and backed up to guard their leader. It was all very theatrical.

Though his face was hidden, Gunnar could tell quite a lot about Devon just looking at him. He was tall and thin, but well built, he stood with his arms behind his back and chest puffed out. The man thought he was Puinsee’s gift to the rest of the Ring. ‘Who are you and why have you been searching for me? All my flock told me was that you are an enemy of the beast.’

‘Said beast goes by Puppet or Sinman now.’

‘I don’t care, answer the question.’

Gunnar cracked a smile despite his fatigue and ringing skull. He sat up straight and stared into the visor upon Devon’s mask. ‘I already told you why I’m here, I want help in killing the bastard.’

Devon moved past his guards a little standing above Gunnar, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate him. ‘Then let me reword my question, since you seem determined to feign ignorance. How is it you came to find us, did someone send you? What is your name and why is it you sought us out in particular?’

‘Honestly not sure why it matters who I am and not sure I want to tell you. I found you by tracking down your old church and searching through your undesirables, honestly surprised Puppet didn’t find you. As for why I’m here,’ Gunnar nodded towards the pipe. ‘I’ve seen what that gas you Puinsee worshippers produce does to Puppet and your old speaker told me you are a more action orientated breed. Figured you might have a weapon, or at least some information.’

Devon’s masked head titled. ‘Information?’ It was difficult to read his mood given the mask, but his body language said he was unfazed by Gunnar’s words.

The mercenary murmured a yes. ‘Puppet didn’t go after the Gospels main branch until very recently, but they went after you years ago. That means you’re a bigger threat to them, you know something, or you did something.’

A muffled scoff resounded under the mask as a puff of gas escaped out of a tube around the mouth area. ‘Fine. You might be lying, could just be an agent of the beast, but even if you are, even if the beast finds us, we’re prepared, we can kill it and we can tell you how.’

Gunnar raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s the cost?’

‘The cost is you’ll be risking your life against the beast instead of my flock.’

That was a fair point in Gunnar’s eyes, he couldn’t actually find fault with it. Especially since it meant he didn’t have to give money to a group he’d much rather be ripping apart right now. ‘Alright, shoot.’

Devon signalled to one of his followers who provided a chair for the man to sit on. ‘We didn’t just make a weapon to kill the beast, we knew it, worked closely with it, there are multiple reasons this Puppet wants us dead.’ He looked to make sure the mercenary was paying attention. ‘Almost two decades ago the beast contacted us, fresh after we left the central church, almost too convenient now I think about it. They said they wanted to help spread the word of Puinsee. Supplied us with funds, weapons and equipment and all they asked in return was for us to wipe one family from the city.’

Gunnar’s eye twitched and he clenched his jaw. He had to stop himself from losing his temper right now, but still, his voice was shaky. ‘You killed the Grants on that fuckers order?’

The cultist shuffled his feet, taking an intrigued step forward with his chair in tow. ‘It was more of a deal rather than an order, but, did you say the Grants? They were a nobody family, why would you know that name?’

Panic ran through the mercenaries system, if he revealed that Aethel survived would they finish the job? He hurried to compose himself. ‘I did any and all research on Puppet, that included incidents they might have been involved in. Hence how I found you.’ He steadied his breathing. ‘So what were you saying?’

There was a pause before Devon lent forward towards the mercenary. ‘Do you think I became a shepherd without being about to read sheep? What are you hiding, lamb?’

Lamb? Was that an insult about his age or his intellect? Devon must have been pretty old, given his status and the gifts from Puinsee. Somehow Gunnar couldn’t find it offensive. ‘Whatever, it ain’t pertinent to the conversation.’

‘It might be if my guess is correct.’

Gunnar sighed. ‘And what’s your guess?’

There was a spark under the man’s mask, some deep and dark joy. ‘That you somehow survived the attack, the last Grant come for revenge, using the beast as an excuse, but I assure you, as much hatred as you might feel for us, the beast is your true adversary. If you are the last Grant then you’re one of the few things your so-called Puppet fears.’

Gunnar stopped to think for a moment, not sure how to respond or what to tell Devon. His intuition said the man was telling the truth, but he wasn’t one with an especially great intuition. On top of that, if he told them about Aethel it could just put the man in more danger. Ordinarily it would be Aethel’s choice, but he couldn’t imagine Devon would excuse him for twenty minutes to make a strange phone call.

He debated in his head as the Gospel grew more impatient waiting for a reply. In the end, Gunnar relied on what he knew of his friend and Aethelstan would want him to tell them his name, so they could know who was coming for them. He smiled, picturing the conversation and subsequent blood shed in his mind.

There was a short breath and Gunnar slapped his knees. ‘Alright. You’re about a quarter right. It’s not me. I was adopted by the Grant family and when you. . . Assassinated them,’ he raised his fingers in quotation. ’Their youngest son and I were out playing. We came back to the devastation you caused.’

Gasps resounded through the crowd of cultists, most lowering their guns. ‘Truly?’ Joy filled that single word as Devon reached up and removed his mask. Gas hissed out of the corners to reveal a middle aged asian man by appearance, he had a short beard and a single deep scar that ran across from his chin to his right ear. He stood wide eyed and opened mouthed.

‘Y-yeah. . .’

Devon laughed heartily and looked around him, a few of the other cultists high fived another put their arm around their neighbour. ‘Is- is there something I’m missing here?’ Gunnar asked.

The man caught himself, perhaps ashamed of such an outburst in front of a stranger. He cleared his throat. ’Truthfully by themselves the Grants are nothing. They were… Are the last living blood relatives of the Gould family.’

Gunnar thought to himself. The name sounded familiar, perhaps it meant more to those native to Juniper city, but he felt as though he would have heard of them. ’Feel like I’ve heard the name, but ‘fraid I don’t know the significance.’

‘You might have heard mention of them from history books dating to the age of the Great Authority. The Gould family were once the Authorities most skilled and personal craftsmen. Even more beloved than the Bluttschmiede artisans.’

Now things were starting to get interesting, Aethel was descended from nobility. Might explain his stubbornness. Not just that, but a family close to the Great Authority. Someone in his family must have known, but kept it real quiet. ‘So, what happened to them? Why did their last surviving members become dwellers?’

‘To hide.’ Devon shuffled to be more comfortable in his chair, over the conversation he slowly loosened up, the man seemed truly invested. Gunnar wasn’t sure how to feel, he seemed less. . . Psychopathic than he expected, but the facts couldn’t be changed, he killed an innocent family. ‘The Gould family head chose to join the noble council of rebellion despite the wealth and power given by his master. Can’t say I know why, suppose it doesn’t matter now. Anyway, not all the family agreed with that decision, so those that stayed loyal ran away and hid when the Grand Authority fell, but not before the rest of the family had already been wiped out.’

Gunnar grew wide eyed. ‘Shit. . . So, my friend is technically like what, the last surviving member of an entire noble lineage?’

Devon shrugged. ‘Can’t say, other branches might exist, the Grants were the only one the beast could find though. They’re one of the few that can stop them.’

That was what started this conversation and stopped Gunnar from executing the bastard sitting in front of him. It was about time to find out exactly what this particular Speaker meant. ‘Are you gonna elaborate now?’

A subtle arch flashed on Devon’s lips. ‘I told you, they were the Great Authorities greatest craftsmen, so, when they joined the rebellion, the head of the family began a project to create the ultimate weapon against the Authority, the perfect blade to counter its defenses. The Knight project. Great metal cyborgs, crafted with slaves as the base. The beast is the last survivor.’

This level of world shattering information would be a lot ordinarily, but luckily this certain mercenary had a decent ability to compartmentalise, not to say he wasn’t shocked, in fact he very much was, even so Gunnar had to push on, he could have a breakdown later. ‘So, having a hard time getting my head around that information. How does that give him a way to stop Puppet?’

‘You think a scientist smart enough to create a super soldier wouldn’t have a way of easily stopping them just in case? Well… I say easily,’ he paused. ‘I’m not sure what compelled the Beast to tell us all this, but they did. Somewhere on that metal exoskeleton lies a control panel and inside it is a scanner, if your friend truly is a Grant, then his blood upon that scanner will force Puppets exoskeleton to lock up, their rotting flesh beneath no longer able to move inside of it.’

Gunnar shook his head, trying to get his now racing mind back on track. ‘Okay okay, that’s, like, absolutely insane news, and explains why Puppet went after the Grants, but why did they hire you?’

Devon smirked. ‘That’s the best part. The beast cannot directly harm one of the Gould lineage, in fact, there are several noble families they are unable to harm. There’s a Chip in their brain that they cannot remove or it would kill them. That’s why they can never truly fight alone, quite cruel really.’

To be fair, the whole idea of turning slaves into weapons through torture and forceful augmentation sounded pretty damn cruel all over. Shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that a free puppet would go completely insane. ‘Hold on, but if my friends descended from the side of the family that stayed loyal to Puppet, wouldn’t the creator of this cybernetic soldier have put in some sort of failsafe?’

‘Failsafe? You think the scanner would be able to tell the difference between loyal and traitorous blood. What a ridiculous concept.’

Though his eyes rolled, Gunnar decided to hold back his sarcastic comeback, thinking it still might not go over well. Besides, a lot of what he had just heard began to catch up with his lagging brain.

He sat in stunned silence, mouth gaping. His mind was split in too many directions, even a little bit of sympathy for Puppet, though not much admittedly. The main subject was the revelation about his best friend that even he didn’t know. Aethel was the best chance they had of killing Puppet, the monster literally couldn’t harm him, at least not with their own hands. That was just what Gunnar had just been told though, by someone he probably shouldn’t entirely trust.

The sound of a metallic click brought Gunnar back to reality, the chamber of a pistol aimed at his chest. Devon holding it on the other end. ‘Are you seriously gonna kill me after spouting out that my friend is the cities best fuckin’ hope.’

Devon shrugged. ‘I haven’t decided yet, let my excitement get the better of me. My people have been researching optimal use of our weapon against the beast, so we may not even need the Grant. However, from what I know of that particular lineage and if you truly are friends with the last surviving member there is no doubt they will seek revenge.’

‘You’re scared of one guy?’ Gunnar asked, raising his eyebrows.

He looked disgusted at the implication. ‘I fear what a man fueled by revenge is capable of. The bravest of men have sold their souls for less.’

Gunnar threw his hands up in protest, a part of him couldn’t deny that he worried about his friend’s temper and where it might lead him in a situation like this. ‘Look, the city is at risk, fuck it the whole Ring, we got a bigger problem than you lot!’

‘Yet you do not deny that you will tell your friend of our presence.’

The mercenary wanted to slam his head against a nearby rock, or slam Devons. ‘Then move away again! There’s a whole fuckin’ desert to hide in.’

Devon seemed to actually think on Gunnar’s reply for a moment, lowering his gun, it did not take long for him to raise it once more. ‘Or. I could just take your life. The beast will have no need to come after us once its goals are reached.’

‘There also won’t be a city left for you to convert. Besides, didn’t you want your own revenge?’

He sighed. ‘Yes. My people desire revenge, and I cannot deny that I seek to encourage more to the worship of Puinsee, but do you really expect me to risk my people just to give a stranger the chance to kill the beast?’

Gunnar rubbed his brows, a headache seeping in. ‘Look. Let’s be honest. Weapon or otherwise, right now I’m probably the best chance you’ve got to stop the fucker and save your precious God and it wont be putting your flock in harms way of Puppet.’

Devon stopped and finally put down his gun. ‘Do you understand the importance of holy Puinsee? If you have met the first Speaker then you have beheld our lord’s glorious visage, resplendent in divine glory.’ He smiled, in a way that came across a little demented in Gunnar’s opinion, but what did he know, the only thing he ever worshipped was an older woman.

‘Hold,’ the speaker started grabbing Gunnar’s attention once again. ‘If… If you saw first hand what Puinsees gift can do to the beast and spoke to the first Speaker. . .’

‘Oh yeah Puppet fully attacked the church, me and a few friends fought them off though.’

Some of the cultists seemed unsettled, a little jumpy. ’You fought off Puppet. The beast?’

‘Well it wasn’t fuckin’ easy, involved a very large rocket.’

‘But you are alive.’

He turned to his followers, making silent conversation with each one, then sat back down in his chair changing his expression to a neutral one. ‘You can go. But I will find out who you are and if I see that you or anyone you’re associated with comes out this way again. I’ll make sure to finish the job the Beast paid for all those years ago.’

‘Ha, like I’d ever wanna come back here.’ Gunnar stood up on the rock and turned, looking behind to make sure they weren’t about to shoot him in the back. He picked up his now sand spattered gun and walked back towards the town, making sure to keep an eye on the armed cultists behind him.

They didn’t move a single muscle, so worried they were about revealing the entrance to their secret club. That was probably for the best, Gunnar wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t ever want to come back here, but, if his friend needed to he would return no matter how much he didn’t want to.

For once Gunnar regretted not having any of the sisters fancy gear, some kind of tracker or spy camera. He had a few bits here and there, nothing useful for this situation though. He hated leaving like this, leaving the bastards unpunished, leaving them safe. If he let slip their location to Puppet would they take them out?

When he reached town and the sun glared upon him once again, the mercenary took another look behind him, the cultists were gone, perhaps never to be seen by him again. Though, if he succeeded against Puppet, Devon would no doubt return to Juniper City, spreading his gospel as it were.

The town itself was already back to its usual day having grown tired of Gunnar’s fancy truck already, it had to be slow living out here, no one had enough energy in this kind of heat. In fact if they weren’t mining it looked like they were drinking in the shade.

A part of him wanted to stay here for a while, sure it was mind breakingly hot and the middle of nowhere with little to no amenities, but it was quiet, peaceful, a slow life away from the chaos of the city. The sound of wind gently rattled through the streets and children’s laughter replaced the usual screams.

He reached the truck, feeling a touch of regret, as he reached for the door handle footsteps approached him. ‘So that’s it? You’re just goin’?’

The foreman stood behind him, he never even learnt her name. ‘You wanted me to stay? Asking for a date or something?’

‘I was hopin’ you woulda taken the cultist with ya.’

Gunnar turned around. ‘You wanted me to kill them?’

She shrugged her crossed arms. ‘The mines are dangerous, people die all the damn time. Didn’t have to kill em’ though, just make them not bother my town any longer.’

He smiled, weakly. ‘Won’t be long til you won’t have to worry about them I imagine.’

‘You don’t sound happy about that.’

‘Well I reckon they’ll just switch to being trouble for me.’

The foreman nodded, as if to say she understood entirely what he meant. She put her hand out. ‘Names Kerry, Kerry Casper. What do you call yourself?’

He took her hand. ‘Gunnar Vaene, pleasure.’

‘You seem like you got a ton of weight sittin’ on your shoulders Gunnar Vaene. When it’s lifted, what say you come work for me? You got a perfect build for. . . Mining.’ She looked him up and down.

The mercenary chuckled and looked out the entrance of the parking zone to the hint of blue sky. ‘Don’t think I’ve got what it takes to live out in the sun.’

‘No one does at first, you’ll get used to it,’ Casper remarked.

Gunnar looked back at her, making eye contact as he reached for the door. ‘It was nice meeting you Kelly Casper. And let me assure you, I’d love to come back sometime.’ He climbed into the Clementine and pushed a few familiar buttons.

‘I’m sure you would,’ Casper smiled as the door closed on their conversation. Through the back window Gunnar noticed her watching him leave. If nothing else that felt like a confidence boost. A small spark of serotonin.

As soon as the Clementine was out of the town gates Gunnar rang Aethel, prepared to receive an earful for not taking out Devon. Even though he knew his friend would prefer that pleasure himself anyway.

Awaiting a call, Aethel picked up on the other end straight away. Anticipating what his friend might have to relay to him. No doubt it wouldn’t be what he expected. ‘So, what’s up? You get the bastard?’

Gunnar adjusted in his seat, not quite sure where or how to start. ‘Sit yourself down mate, I got a fuckin’ tale to tell ya.’