“With a flourish of his revolver, Musashi jumped off the balcony, flipping upside down as the fire-whipped wind whipped through his hair. He laughed as he shot at the ghouls expertly, hitting every shot with his gun. The handsome amazing beautiful Musashi landed in a crouch on the other balcony, and blew some smoke out of the tip of his gun. He wiped the sweat from his bare, oiled chest.”

Rathus coughed quietly, interrupting Ruth from her enraptured narration. She held her journal with delicate care, cradling it in both hands as the wagon jostled.

“Question,” the Gun Knight asked. He paused for a moment, considering whether there was any merit in even asking, before plunging ahead anyways. “He isn't wearing a shirt?”

The Princess turned scarlet, but gave him an indignant look. “I don't know what you're suggesting, Rathus, but there's a very good reason he doesn't have a shirt, you know,” she admonished.

Rathus shrugged. “No, I was just-”

“He lost it in a fight against the ghouls, okay? He narrowly got away with his life, but he lost his shirt when they grabbed it, okay?!”

“I wasn't-”

“The oil is... because they were in the kitchen, so he put the oil on so he could squeeze past without them grabbing him. It's a – it- it's tactical. Okay?!” She stammered.

Rathus looked to the road ahead as the Princess stared him down. “Of course.” he replied carefully. “That'd be the sound choice. Tactically and all.”

The Princess shot him a dirty look as she turned back to the pages to find her place. The pair were on the road from Mount's Ankle to the slightly larger town of Pheasantgrove. The villagers had given Rathus both a wagon and a pair of mules to pull it, much to the delight of Grue.

They had refused to accept any money from him for the wagon, citing his heroics. Rathus grimaced slightly as he recalled, thankful that he had managed to at least talk them down from the bronze statues they had wanted to put up. He looked over at his travel companion, who found her place at last, her eyes curling into a smile as she prepared to read.

There is much to be said of the Gun Knights of the Empire of the Eternal Star. Numbering among the most elite of the Imperial Army, their order was founded by Wylos the Conqueror himself, in the early days of his campaign. Soldiers without measure, each member of the Imperial Gun Knights was valued as heavily as a full squadron of seasoned men. They were a veritable army-of-one, highly trained, heavily armed, and magically augmented beyond the limits of human power.

The Vow of the Gun Knight was more than just a promise. It was a Contract, written in the unbreakable language of Law; those who willingly bound themselves to the Vow gave their absolute obedience in exchange for absolute power. Once sworn to their Vows, the Gun Knights were said to be strong enough to crush steel with their bare hands, fast enough to catch a bullet from the air. It was said that they were beyond pain, that they were unkillable, that they felt no fear.

Perhaps these stories are true. If Gun Knights were truly fearless, at least, it would explain why Rathus decided, an hour into their journey, to ask the Princess about the fan-fiction stories she had written about Musashi. To his immediate regret, he had discovered that not only was her literary corpus significant, but it was also a literature that contained significant corpus. The Princess read on.

“Musashi flexed casually as he sauntered to the glass patio door that lead into the Prince's chamber. The light from within glistened on his eight-pack abs and six-pack pecs. Musashi reached out and turned the handle of the door with a light touch like a ghost.

Musashi opened the door, and it swung wide with a creak, as the Prince of Darkness looked up from his bed, his eyes and lips trembling. “You came!” he whispered loudly.

“Not yet,” Musashi said, walking slowly at the bed, “But I have arrived to rescue you, Prince.”

“My evil father is keeping me prisoner,” The Prince said, eyes tearing up with crying, “I knew you would come back and take me away from my father's castle, from the never-ending night of Gloom!”

Musashi gently reached out with his hand and wiped away the Prince's tears. “I am here now in this place,” he said smilingly. The Prince stood and embraced him, his nightrobe billowing in the wind. Musashi looked at the Prince's Prince with mischief as the Prince blushed a lot. “We need to get out of here!” the Prince said. “We... we don't have time for...”

The Prince trailed off as Musashi silenced him, putting his fingers on the Prince's lips. “I make my own time” Musashi said sexily. Then, Musashi went to his knees and started su-”

“Hang on a second,” Rathus interrupted, talking over the Princess's spirited narration.

“-like a champ.” Ruth finished, before snapping the book shut and staring angrily at the Gun Knight.

“There gonna be a lot of uh, intimate moments in this story?” He asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.

“Those are the BEST parts, Rathus.” The Princess shook her head and rolled her eyes, astonished at his OBVIOUS lack of taste. “Why, do you have a problem with it?”

Rathus sighed as he rolled a cigarette. “Well, You're entitled to like what you wanna like, and write what you wanna write,” he said, pausing to lick and seal the cigarette. He tucked it behind his ear for the moment.

“But, the thing is, I know Musashi. He's a friend of mine, we went through trainin' together. It's a little weird to hear this kinda thing about somebody I know personally. If you wouldn't mind skippin' through the, ah, bedroom bits, I'd appreciate it.”

Ruth considered it. She sighed, shrugging her shoulders with slow deliberation, as if the act itself burdened her. “Well, if I must. I shall spare you the details if it is too much for your heart to bear,” she relented. “But you should know that you're missing out on the best part.”

Rathus gave her a friendly smile and chuckled. “I'll do my best to soldier on in spite of th' deficit.”

The Princess opened her journal back to the place she had left, and scanned the page. She flipped the page, and continued her search for the next 'non-bedroom bit', as Rathus had put it. She smiled to herself as she quietly read, and flipped to the next set of pages. Rathus watched a bird flit from one branch to another ahead of them, at a patch of flowers on the side of the road. Ruth continued to flip through pages. The Gun Knight looked over at her.

“Were you done reading, or...”

Ruth shook her head, and flipped through a few more pages, quickly reading through them, before stopping at a passage. She tapped it twice with her finger. “Ah. Here we are.”

“Now it's time to leave this Dread Castle!” Musashi shouted, buttoning his pants as he shot a ghoul coming through the window. “Bid your home and bed goodbye, as we shall journey far and wide!”

The Prince of Darkness sighed, and ran his hands through his messy, scarlet-black hair. “I wish I had time to take a bath first.” he said. Musashi turned to him and grinned, then picked him up and carried him to-”

“Hmm,” Ruth said, pausing. She glanced up at Rathus, and gave him a sheepish smile. The Princess looked back to the journal, gave one slow nod, and began flipping through the pages again.

Rathus sighed, and pulled his lighter out, rolling it around his fingers as he decided that he'd better have that cigarette now rather than later.

“You know,” he said conversationally, “Barashtir doesn't have any sons. He's got 3 daughters.”

“Barashtir?” she asked distantly, as she continued to flip through the pages. She was about halfway through the journal now.

“King of Gloom?” Rathus asked, “Y'know, 'The King of Darkness'? He's only got daughters.”

Ruth snapped out of her concentration, blinking and looking up at him.

“Oh, well, yes, I knew that much. I took creative liberties,” She admitted. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly turned and started to draw another volume from her bag.

“I... did actually... happen to write an alternate version of this story, where Musashi rescues his youngest daughter.”

Rathus lit his cigarette. “That'd be Christine, right? His third daughter?”

Ruth blushed intensely, but remained silent. She pulled at the edge of her riding cloak as she turned away and tucked the book back into her bag. “Uh, actually, it's his fourth daughter, uh, Rose, who um, is, uh-” Her face began to glow slightly as she searched for the words.

Rathus gave a nonchalant shrug. “The Princess don't need to be real as long as the story is good, I reckon.” At that, Ruth muttered an agreement, and moved back to the book on her lap. She opened it and found the page she was on previously.

Ruth continued to search through the pages as they traveled down the road. It would still be a few hours yet until they made it to Pheasantgrove. From what the villagers had told Rathus, this far from Durgen's castle, there hadn't been much in the way of Rebel activity. He imagined that Pheasantgrove, which was even closer to the border, would likewise be safe. More importantly, Pheasantgrove had a Rail station, which they could use to go straight to the heart of Dennis.

Rathus glanced over at the Princess, who was still looking for the next suitable scene in her story. It was strange, he thought to himself, how the silence could be so uncomfortable. This was why he preferred to travel alone. When you were by yourself, it was easy enough to fill the emptiness with your thoughts. You could spend miles alone on the trail, arriving at your destination before you'd even realized it. If he needed sound, he could talk to Grue, or sing. Riding with somebody else somehow made the silence gnaw at you.

After a time, the Princess sighed and closed the book. Rathus considered asking her if she'd given up, or if she'd reached the end of the volume, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. She sat in silence for a while, before it became too much to bear, and she spoke.

“So, is it true? You would know, right?” She asked the Gun Knight. He glanced over at her, confused. “Is what true?” Ruth gestured to her travel-sack, and the selected works within.

“The stories about Musashi, what else? I know that the ones I've written are fiction, of course. But, what about the other ones? 'Musashi and the Scholar Prince'? 'Musashi and the Lion of the Wind'? 'Musashi in the Seraglio of the Goblin King'?”

Rathus shrugged. “I've never read them, so I wouldn't know. I can ask him about it if ya want, though.”

Ruth shook her hands at him to fend off the very idea. “No no no, that'd be so... I mean, I couldn't possibly associate myself with that sort of social breach. Could you even imagine?”

Rathus leaned back in the saddle. “Y'know. If you want, I can tell you a story about Musashi I know is true. If you think that might be something you're interested in.”

Rathus looked over at the wagon, to find that Ruth had already pulled out a blank journal, and had a pen in hand.

“Go on,” she instructed, doing her best to appear casual as she vibrated silently. “I'm listening.”

The Gun Knight scratched at his chin, deep in thought. “How about... Hm. No, not that one. Maybe... Ah. Alright. Here's how it goes.”

**************

The train rattled quietly as it headed towards its destination. Rathus bobbed in his seat, practically vibrating from excitement. His eyes were bright, and his hair perfectly coiffed. His uniform was flawless: his long coat was clean and pressed, his shirt was starched, his battle denims were freshly ironed beneath his breastplate, which was polished and emblazoned with the Everlasting Star of Wylos, the symbol of the Empire. He was fresh and ready for his first real mission. Or so he imagined. There were four others in the car with him, a small squad of 4 Gun Knights, along with their attache.

Rathus looked at her now, as she sat across from him, resting her head on her fist with her eyes closed. Rathus wondered momentarily if she was asleep. She wore no armor, but then again, she did not need any. Anything strong enough to survive getting close to a Star Mage wouldn't be stopped by something like armor, anyways.

Kugelblitz opened her eyes-

“What did she look like?” Ruth asked, her pen scratching away at the journal. When Rathus didn't immediately answer her, she looked up to him expectantly. The Gun Knight shrugged.

“Is that really important?” he asked.

Ruth nodded. “Extremely so. How would your readers know what she looks like otherwise? You need to give them enough to work with here.”

“Wait a second,” Rathus asked, holding up his hand. “What exactly do you mean, readers? You planning on publishing this?”

Ruth waved dismissively at him. “Hypothetical readers, Rathus, don't worry about it. If I'm going to transcribe this, I want to do it properly.”

Rathus sighed, dropping his hands back to his reins. “She was a Dessite, so she had silver hair, short cropped, about here,” He held a hand up to the nape of his neck. “Skin was a medium brown, purple eyes. Height of about 5 foot 10.”

“Build?” Ruth asked.

Rathus shrugged again. “Athletic, I guess? She wasn't bad on the eyes, if that's what you're asking.” Ruth nodded, her pen blazing across the parchment. Rathus stared at its movements for a while. He narrowed his eyes as it continued well after he finished talking.

“You said she wasn't wearing armor. What was she wearing?”

Rathus turned away from her. “Don't remember.” The Princess stared him down as he rode in silence.

“You're a Gun Knight, Rathus, you can't bullshit me. I KNOW you remember.”

It was the Gun Knight's turn to blush, as he squirmed in his saddle. “Fine. She had on a jacket, blue-purple, came down about mid-thigh. She never wore her arms in the sleeves though, just had it fastened around the neck, and open. Underneath, she had... I guess you'd call it a swimsuit. One of those two-piece deals. Blue, white, and gold star pattern.”

Ruth made a noise under her breath, and her writing intensified. Rathus looked over at her as she scratched furiously at the page. The Gun Knight scrutinized her closely as she finished her writing.

“I feel like... you should probably read that back to me.” Rathus said slowly.

Ruth nodded and picked up the paper, clearing her throat before she read.

“Rathus stared at the Star Mage, blushing slightly. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering to her brilliant silver hair, a short-cropped tangle that sat on top of her lovely head. His heart pounded as he traced her heaving bosom, the delicate curves that lay beneath her jacket. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream melted and mixed into it. How he yearned to be like that cream, to melt into her and become -”

“Absolutely not. Erase that.” Rathus said, immediately.

“It's artistic license, Rathus.” Ruth admonished.

“License means it's authorized by the state.” Rathus quipped back. “That's downright slander, is what it is.”

Ruth rolled her eyes at him. “Fine, I'll remove it in editing.”

“Don't joke around,” Rathus warned, “If Kugelblitz reads that, she'll beat the shit out of the both of us.”

Ruth was unimpressed. “So, are you going to continue your story, or not?”

The Gun Knight stared at his ward for a long time before he sighed and shook his head.

“Fine.”

Kugelblitz opened her eyes to look at Rathus. Annoyance flashed in her purple eyes. She glanced Rathus up and down, and narrowed them.

“You're rattling.”

Rathus blinked at her. “Huh?” Kugelblitz gestured to his belt. “Stop bobbing up and down like that. You're making too much noise.”

Rathus froze, his face going pale. “Oh, ah, pardon. I'll stop, I was, I didn't mean to-”

The person to his right sighed as they tapped their fingers on the shotgun on the seat next to them.

“Leave off it, Kugelblitz.” she growled quietly, “The boy's just excited.” The Gun Knight leaned back in her chair, stretching and thumbing at the scar across her nose.

“Description?” Ruth asked. The Gun Knight took the stub of his cigarette from his lips and crushed out the embers between his fingers before flicking it off the side of the road.

“Well,” he said, “that depends heavily on if you're also going to write some pulp romance scene about me ogling my Captain or not.”

Ruth clicked her tongue at him. “I already apologized for that, Rathus.”

“No, you did not.”

The Princess rapped her fingers on the book in irritation. “Well, let's pretend that I did. Go ahead and describe her, so that I can write down the description accurately. Give me some credit, here.”

Rathus took a deep breath, then let out, in a stream, “Agatha Grimm. Captain of Irregular Unit 415. Stocky, muscular build. Fair complexion, but weathered. She was... 37, if I recall, at that time. Salt and pepper hair, shoulder length, but tied up in a ponytail. Big scar across the bridge of her nose from a fight with a Manticore.”

“Clothing?” the Princess asked. She looked much less interested in this description than the prior one, as she scratched at the paper with a dull, studious look on her face.

Rathus gestured to himself. “Gun Knight uniform. Long coat, breastplate, battle denims. Belt. Holdster. Boots.” He pointed to each part in turn.

“What's the female Gun Knight uniform look like?" she asked. Rathus blinked at her. “The... same as the male one? Why, what were you expecting?”

The Princess looked somewhat disappointed, but said nothing. “I wasn't expecting anything in particular, Rathus. It makes perfect sense that the Gun Knights would be all about practicality at the cost of fashion.”

Rathus looked doubtfully at his own outfit. He thought it looked fine, but now he was a little worried. Maybe he should get a hat or something. He shook his head, and continued his story.

Kugelblitz sniffed and shifted in her seat, crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the booth. “Tell him to be excited quietly, or go be excited somewhere else, Grimm. I'm trying to rest.”

Agatha Grimm glared at the Star Mage, but held her tongue. Even if she was in charge of the contingent of Gun Knights, Kugelblitz did not answer to her. Rathus gave them a quiet nod. “Sorry. Ma'am. I'll be more quiet.”

Laughter rang out from the young man standing at the window. Kugelblitz opened one eye to glare at the offending source. “It's hard to hold it back, isn't it? I remember my first mission.” The young man turned, his coat flowing out behind him. Although Musashi wore the same uniform as the rest, he wore it like a hero's cloak, like a conquering king. The prodigy of the Gun Knights.

Ruth looked expectantly at Rathus. The Gun Knight tilted his head away from her. “You KNOW what Musashi looks like. You have a poster of him. Slim build, Long black hair, green eyes. He has a scar on one cheek, although he didn't have it yet in this story.”

Ruth nodded continuously as she worked at her paper. Rathus cocked his head as her description seemed to stretch for the better part of a page.

“Am I gonna have to read through this after you're done to make sure you're not puttin' words in my mouth?” he asked.

“Don't worry about it. Continue, please.”

Rathus wagged his finger at her. "I will, but you're going to have to stop interrupting me every few sentences. I'll go ahead and describe Obrez for you, so just let me tell the story, alright?"

Ruth gave him a solemn nod, and drew her fingers across her lips as if zipping them shut. The knight cleared his throat and continued.

“What gun are you going to use this time?” The fourth member of their retinue was leaning against the wall, his hat pulled down low over his eyes. His heavy chaingun sat at his feet. The Knight looked up, tilting his hat back to reveal a mottled green face with a grin full of fangs, beneath a crop of dark red hair. He was an Orc, wearing the standard uniform of the Gun Knight, which, while it was tailored specifically to fit him, managed to give off the impression that he had been squeezed forcefully into it, as his muscles all but threatened to tear his jacket at the seams. Vyaz Obrez pointed at Musashi, gesturing with one clawed finger of his massive, green hand. “You are still searching for 'the one'?”

Musashi grinned a smile at him, then slid into his seat with liquid grace, swooning with all the feigned lovesickness of a heroine in a book full of men who alternatively brood and smolder.

“Alas,” He sighed, “It eludes me ever still. Shall I never find true love, Vyaz?” he pontificated, exaggerating each word. The massive Gun Knight chuckled. Rathus cocked his head at Musashi.

“What happened to that girl you were dating during training?”

Vyaz laughed again, as Musashi gave him a dismissive wave. “Not quite that sort of love, Rathus,” he explained. “Although, it may as well be.”

He sat up straight in his chair, and reached into the Holdster at his side, pulling out a long bolt action rifle with a wooden stock. “I'll be using the Nugget today, I think. Perhaps this will be the one.”

“Don't stick to just one gun,” Grimm chastized, wiping at her shotgun with a cloth. “You'll get yourself killed for the sake of some romantic ideal. Use the gun that best fits the situation.”

Musashi smiled at her. “Romantic? This is more than just romance, Captain. This is about the very nature of my soul. I've yet to find the gun that sings the secret name hidden within my heart. My perfect pair. My soul-mate, if you will.”

Grimm looked to the sky for strength as he continued.

“There is somebody for everyone, yes? A magic half that will complete you, make you whole. It stands to reason the same is true for the weapon one uses, no? I won't settle for swapping around like some faithless rake. I'll find the gun that I was meant to have, and that will be all I need. But first:" he gestured to his rifle, "I must find it."

Kugelblitz snorted. “'The secret name within my heart?' Stick to the fighting, lover boy. Poetry doesn't suit you.”

Musashi winked at the mage. “Ah, but you have clearly never seen my fighting, have you, my starshine? I can assure you, the lines I pen with my bullets, they are nothing short of poetry. Shall I compose you a sonnet?"

Kugelblitz held up one hand, which began to glow and crackle with energy. “Try it and find out,” she warned. The young romantic sighed and shook his head.

“We'll be at Flush in half an hour.” Grimm announced, “So look alive. The target was last spotted here, and it's assumed that he's holding up in a local safe-house. We can't risk him making a run for it. Not this close to the border.”

Kugelblitz rolled her eyes. “Still don't see why you need 4 Gun Knights and a Star Mage to bring in one person.”

“He's a Dracula.” Vyaz pointed out.

“An Unregistered Dracula, responsible for at least six deaths,” Grimm clarified. “We've no idea how strong he might be, or what sort of powers he might have. Those are dangerous unknowns when we're dealing with a killer."

“The Dossier also, uh, said that he tends to get tied up in the local underworld,” Rathus added, helpfully. “That's how he bucked the last two Gun Knights that were sent after him. He got them all caught up in a firefight, then slipped away.”

Grimm nodded. “That's correct. If he slips away again, he'll probably make it into Gloom, and then we can kiss any chance of catching him goodbye. The undead are under King Barashtir's protection, and even if Gloom falls under Imperial doctrine, we can't force him to break his non-extradition policy. The wording of his Contract is pretty specific.”

Kugelblitz scoffed. “You say that like we don't have authority in Gloom. We don't need to rely on the king to deliver our fugitive for us.”

Grimm gave her a severe look, jerking her thumb at Rathus. “I'm not about to try to tangle with a Dracula under the Twilight Filter, and even if I WAS so inclined, I wouldn't bring a green recruit with me.” Rathus opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Don't apologize, Rathus, that wasn't my point."

“Well, we only need to worry about Gloom if we fail to catch him, no?” Vyaz asked. “We just make sure to catch him before he can run. With the 5 of us, is not problem.”

Musashi smiled, and spun his rifle around his arm. He expertly worked the bolt without slowing it down. The chambered round flew into the air, and as he spun the rifle, landed back into the chamber. He racked the bolt and glanced over at Kugelblitz to see if she had noticed. She had not. Undeterred, he turned to Grimm. “I've never fought a Dracula before," he laughed, "I'm looking forward to it.”

Agatha laughed drily. “They're a pain in the ass. Hard to kill. We're lucky we only have to bring this one in alive.”

Vyaz frowned a bit as he picked at his jacket. “Why should taking him alive be easier than dead?"

“Well, we can just put his head in a box, then put a padlock on it. As long as nobody bleeds into it, he'll be good like that for at least a week.” Grimm replied. “It's not that it's particularly hard to kill them, but keeping them dead? Good luck.”

“McGaff,” she said, “why don't you tell us what we do know about him?”

The young Gun Knight nodded. “We don't know the, uh, full scope of his abilities, but we do know that he's got... enhanced strength, extreme resiliency to physical trauma, mild hypnotic abilities, and some sort of escape ability,” he numbered each trait on his fingers as he recited them from memory. “They aren't sure whether he can turn into mist, or bats, or go invisible, or something like that.”

Vyaz tapped at his chaingun with a smile. “I'd like to see him turn into a swarm of bats. Would be good shooting.”

“Let's try to keep collateral damage to a minimum,” Grimm cautioned. “There's 5 of us, I expect you to show a bit more restraint than just filling the air with bullets.” Grimm opened her mouth as if to continue, then suddenly paused, as if she had remembered something. She reached down and opened one of the pouches on her belt.

“That's right. One last thing.” Grimm reached into the pouch, and pulled out three tubes of vellum, rolled up and sealed with wax. The Imperial signet was pressed into each seal. The scrolls seemed to vibrate with potential energy.

“Warrants of Release?” Vyaz asked, arching an eyebrow. Grimm nodded.

“There's one for each of you,” she replied. “I don't think anybody will need to invoke their Vow to take down the culprit, but just in case, I'd rather you have one on hand. I didn't come here to lose anybody.”

Vyaz grabbed his without comment and tucked it away. Musashi grabbed one and tilted it sideways, looking through the open sides of the tube to see if he could read the page inside. Rathus looked at the last scroll with some trepidation, before finally taking it.

“I hope we don't wind up needing this,” he said, tucking it into one of the pouches at his belt.

“Don't hesitate to use it if you do,” Grimm ordered. “We'll be arriving soon. There are a few informants in town who should be able to keep us abreast of the situation. We'll want to move quickly, so we'll be splitting into two groups. If you find the target, try to stay out of sight, and call for backup. Do NOT engage on your own.” She stood, and gestured to the two youngest of the group.

“Musashi, McGaff, you'll be with me. We'll be checking in with our contact in the warehouse district. Kugelblitz, Obrez, you two check in with our dockside contact.”

“Who would that be, again?” Kugelblitz asked. She stared out the window with obvious distaste, as if she had grown tired of the mission before it had even started.

“Don't worry,” Vyaz reassured her. "I remember all the details." He clapped her on the shoulder, earning him a vicious glare. Kugelblitz looked about to say something rating at least a 6.3 on the Frickter Rudeness Scale, but was interrupted by the gentle tolling of a bell. With a static spike, The conductor's voice came through over the train's speaker system. “Now arriving in Flush. Last call. All travelers going on to Gloom, please depart to the platform and transfer to line 3A.”

“Alright,” Agatha announced, stretching and grabbing her bag. “Let's move out.” She shouldered her shotgun and gestured to Musashi, then to Rathus in turn, beckoning them to follow her as she left the train.

Captain Grim nodded to Obrez and Kugelblitz, as the two teams split up. The Star Mage and Gun Knight headed south out of the station, making for the docks near the river. Captain Grimm led the two younger Gun Knights deeper into the town, through streets with rows and rows of warehouses and storage buildings.

“Our first stop is with a man named Woodrow," she explained. "He runs a few... extracurricular activities around town. I want you boys on your best behavior. Be sure to leave a good impression of the Gun Knights, understood?

Rathus snapped to attention, dragging his attention from a nearby dockside busker.

“Yes Ma'am!” he saluted. Musashi chuckled as he watched the older Knight snap to attention.

“That goes for you, too, Musashi,” the stern Captain warned. “I don't care how early you graduated from training, you don't get a free pass to goof off.”

“Goofing off is anathema to my very soul, Captain,” Musashi gasped. He drew back from her, poorly feigning shock. The Gun Knight gave his Captain a quick salute, while he shot a mischievous glance over to Rathus. Grimm narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh, how my faith in you is rekindled,” she sighed, shaking her head slightly. She stopped in front of a stone-faced warehouse, placing her hand on the large metal door which was set off to one side.

“I don't want to see any dicking around in here. Comport yourselves as a Gun Knight should. We are trying to keep a good impression with these folks, you understand? It took us too long to even get set up with these contacts.”

“Loud and clear,” Musashi replied.

Rathus nodded as she pushed the door open. “I don't got any plans to make a nuisance of myself, Captain, but with the way you keep reminding us, you'd think we're just lookin' for an excuse. Is there something special about this place that...”

Rathus trailed off as Captain Grimm led the way into the warehouse, which had been roughly converted into a fighting arena and betting parlor. A large section in the center had been cleared, and a ring was set into it, encased in cyclone fencing. Four men were facing off in the center. An Orc was bodily lifting one of his opponents up while a Dwarf swung a cinder block on a chain around, menacing the last opponent, who had a piece of rebar.

Rathus stared at the fight, and something began to gnaw in his stomach. He didn't believe much in Fate or premonition, but as their Captain led them into the club, past the bar, beyond the betting cages, he had a feeling deep in his soul. It was hard for him to place, exactly, but as he looked over at his friend and fellow Gun Knight, and saw Musashi's grin growing wider and wider, he thought it might be getting a little clearer. His only hope was that they could get out of here without getting into a fight.

“But of course,” Rathus said to Ruth, “There was never any chance of that. Never a chance of that at all...”