Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
Preparations were being made in earnest to deal with the coming attack when the sun went down on this day.
Ezra had spent much of the morning aiding those efforts, which seemed Herculean, in the face of how much time they truly had and the wrath of the enemy they faced. The army had told them to clear out as predicted that Four Corners was a small place they could afford to expend men and supplies to defend when there were larger towns with greater populace at stake. If anything the reply served to deepen the resolve of those who had chosen to stay. It was as if their success would not be merely an issue of victory over the enemy but rather a defiant gesture for those who think they were incapable of defending themselves, not matter what the odds.
Chris had all the appearance of a general leading not only the six men who made up the Magnificent Seven but everyone in town as he directed them in their preparations. Strange how the black garbed gunslinger who was capable of striking fear into the hearts of so many could also boost the spirit of men to fight like lions when he stood at their head. The kind of charisma and faith he inspired was in Ezra's opinion; far more potent than anything Hannibal Julius could engender in his wildest dreams. There were men like Hannibal who dreamt of glory and then there were men like Chris of whom glorious dreams were made.
Ezra had no such need for such lofty ideals. At the moment, his needs were simpler and he would have them fulfilled. Their current calamity had not detracted him from that purpose as he entered the jailhouse while everyone was busy fortifying the town like Troy awaiting an onslaught from angry Achaens bearing gifts. He shut the door behind him and crossed the floor to the barred cells and saw his quarry was exactly where she had been left. Chris had ensured that Diana Belladonna had no chance of telling anyone else what she knew about his situation, to which the gambler was eternally grateful and went a long way to instilling him with confidence that Chris would keep his secret confined to those who already knew.
She was awake and sitting upright on her bed when she saw him. His appearance immediately drove her to the corner of the bed and she was huddled against the wall when he finally stopped his approach. Her wide eyes stared at him with unrelenting fear because she had understood during their last encounter how little he regarded her life in the face of his vengeance. What she knew about him and his character no longer applied after what Julius had done to him. She was accustomed to being in control and the night before had showed her how fragile the foundations of such belief could be.
"What do you want?" She asked trying to keep her voice steady. She failed.
He held the keys to her cell in and when he stared at her through the lengths of metal that were her jail bars, his eyes were black and unlike the man she had tried to charm since her arrival in Four Corners. "Where is he?" Ezra asked simply.
"I can't tell you that!" She cried out. "He'll kill me."
"Fine." Ezra replied smoothly, already prepared for his answer. "You have two options Miss Belladonna, I advise that you consider them carefully. I want Hannibal Julius. I will get him with your help or without it, I prefer the former."
"I can't give you what..." she started to say again.
"Do not interrupt me." He retorted coldly and silenced her instantly with an audible gulp. "If you do not help me I will not kill you. I have not digressed that far into barbarity where you are concerned, despite your selling me out for 30 pieces of silver but what you will help me. If not, I will release you ensuring that Julius knows that it was you who warned us not only of the attack tonight but also of his entire campaign in the Territory. I will say that you were paid very well to become our creature, just as you were his and trust me when I tell you that I can be entirely convincing. Even if he does not believe that you were paid, he will believe that you betrayed him. You are unaccounted for and you are the only one who could have done so. I would be surprised if you made it out of the state and after the revenge he had planned for me, I would seriously worry what he would to a woman if he had dared a rape a man."
Diana listened quietly without saying a word, knowing that when he reached the end of his recital she would be required to make an answer but she had none to give. Everything he had stated was the truth. Julius would kill her and horribly if he believed for instant that she had betrayed. Unfortunately even if she did run, she had no place to go. Her people would see her just as guilty as Julius and would be even more brutal in their vengeance, if such at thing was even possible. She felt the walls of her choices closing in on her and knew that she was trapped with nowhere to go.
"I didn't do it for the money." She whispered as if it would matter to him. "I did it for my people."
"Your people being?" Ezra asked, showing no sympathy. He could not feel that for this creature even if she was a misguided patriot.
"My people being the Apache." She met his gaze. "I'm part Apache. I was trying to help my people."
"Yes," Ezra returned dispassionately, "I can see how delivering me to Julius would accomplish that."
"I have to help him," she declared empathetically. "He promised to give my people back our lands. More and more we are being herded into reservations until one day that will be the only place where we exist. I was trying to do the best for them, to keep us from becoming extinct."
"And you actually believe Hannibal will make this happen?" Ezra did not know to be astonished by her naivete or to feel pity at her delusion.
"Yes." She nodded. "I am a part of his Citadel because he's the only chance we have."
"The only chance," Ezra shook his head at the full horror of their confusion. "Do you know the tale of Caesar crossing the Rubicon?" He asked softly.
"No." She shook her head, glad that he did not intend to continue with his tirade of reminding how hopeless her situation was.
"Caesar crossed the Rubicon and brought and army into Rome where he was able to gain absolute control over the entire Roman Empire. Until then, no army foreign or domestic was allowed to into the city. He destroyed the Republic when he crossed the Rubicon and held the Senate to ransom, making himself a living god among his people. Hannibal believes that he is Caesar in this life and what he has tricked your people into doing, is crossing the Rubicon for him. The Apache, the Commanche and just about every Indian nation that took part in this plan of his will be butchered by the army but not before they create so much chaos that Julius and the Citadel will be the only ones who can promise an end to the slaughter. He may succeed and he may not but your people will pay the price. You think you were on the verge of destruction before? Now you have tipped the balance and fallen over it."
"You don't know anything!" She cried out refusing to believe that it could be so simple.
"I know people and I know Julius. When the fighting is over in the Territory, he will offer order and he has a real army of followers behind him to ensure that he can maintain that order. If you are as closely aligned to him as you claim then you know that."
Diana refused to believe that she and her people could be misled so easily. "You're wrong." She stammered.
"Am I?" He countered. "Julius wants to be emperor as Caesar once became an emperor, do you think if that ever happens that he will simply hand over part of his empire to your people for their use? Are you truly that naive?"
"You don't know anything." She repeated herself because if he was right she was the instrument of her people's destruction.
"Perhaps not," Ezra sighed, unprepared to debate the issue because as far as he was concerned, the die was cast unless Julius was killed now, before he let his fanatics on some crusade that could make the coming blood bath, the first of many. "I do know that your only chance of surviving any of this is if I kill him and hopefully that will be enough to pull your people back before it is completely too late for them."
"You talk as if you care about my people," Diana spat bitterly. "All you really care about is getting your hands on Julius."
Ezra stared at her. "I have no wish to see genocide being committed upon the indigenous populace of the Americas but I am going to dispense with any effort to tell you to tell you that I do not want Julius dead. I want him and he will be dead but first, you will tell me where he is. You will tell me where he is because you care about your people. With Julius were gone, they may yet be able to save themselves from the destructive course they had set, not only for themselves but for those who did not choose to fight but remain neutral in this insidious scheme."
Diana blinked slowly feeling furious thoughts running through her mind despite her outward calm. He was right of course. She had followed Julius because she had believed in her cause and his sincerity to help not only the Apaches but also all the Indian tribes. However, she had been bothered about a few minor things and the vast number of people in his organization frightened her. What Julius had done to Ezra had clearly unnerved her but it was not as terrible as thinking she might be wrong about his honest desire to help them. For Ezra was correct on one point; the army would react to any uprising in the extreme. There would be no turning back from what happened tonight except if Julius were suddenly gone. It might cause enough reaction among the participating tribes for them to pause what they were doing, to stop before they reach the point of no return. It was worth a try at least.
"Damn you," she glared at him, realizing she had no other choice. "Damn you and Hannibal to hell."
"We're all damned one way or the other," Ezra said indifferently. "Question are you going to damn your people?"
Looking into her eyes, Ezra knew her answer before she even spoke.
Casey did not feel so good.
She had been in the wagon with Nettie for a good hour or more now and felt a slight tingle of heat beneath her skin from the onset of their journey. She worried little about it because she had discovered her unfortunate state, she had been suffering all kinds of discomfort, vomiting, nausea, mood swings just to name a few. However, she had to confess that cramps had not been one of them until today. At first she had tried to ignore the constant spasms in her lower regions, keeping silent mostly to maintain the secrecy of her condition. With sitting Nettie at the head of the wagon, following the convoy to its hiding place and leaving Four Corners behind, the young girl felt as if her aunt had enough to worry about without adding her own difficulties to the mix.
She bit down and ignored the cramping for the next hour, trying not to let apprehension be borne out of the rising intensity of her abdominal distension. When the pain began to reach a kind of apogee where it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide, Casey wondered if this was some for of holy retribution for what she had been intending to do about her situation. Beads of sweat began to form on her skin as dawn began to ascend above the horizon. She had to stay quiet, had to endure this until they got to the camp and she could find Alex. If she said something now, she'd have to explain it to Nettie and then JD who was accompanying the exodus out of Four Corners, would know. She could not bear that!
He had been so good to her after finding out what Blackwood had done. He treated her as if she were a victim, to be handled gently and reminded constantly that he did not blame her for what happened that she was abused viciously by his father. How could she tell him that she was now carrying Blackwood's child? How much could he take before he wanted to be rid of the whole situation? Who would blame him if he did? Casey had to endure this pain that felt like her insides were being twisted. She could not risk anyone knowing because she could not risk JD finding out the truth she had been hiding from him this past week.
"Lord girl," Nettie remarked as she was driving the wagon. "You sure can sleep."
"Sorry Aunt Nettie," she uttered a strained response.
Something in her voice immediately caught Nettie's attention and the older woman looked over her shoulder at her young charge. What she saw made her pull up the reins to the horses of her wagon instantly. Casey was lying on the back tray, almost in a fetal position, her face trying to conceal the pain that was obviously wracking her body. However what had captured her attention most was the blot of crimson that was spreading out across the girl's long skirt. Panic immediately beset the woman and she quickly climbed into the back to help her niece who was suffering from something she had knew nothing about.
"Casey," Nettie made Casey look at her. "You're bleeding! Why are you bleeding?" She demanded, knowing that there was far too much blood to be just a case of the monthlies coming at an unguarded moment.
"I didn't want you to know," Casey started to sob as she felt the slickness against her thighs and realised with despair that she was going to be able to hide nothing from her aunt or for anyone at this rate. "I didn't want anyone to know!" She wept quietly.
"Know what?" Nettie asked but she could guess. The location of the bleeding gave Nettie a good idea where it had originated but she had to ask to be sure.
"I'm pregnant." She whispered. "I'm pregnant and it's Blackwood's!"
Nettie closed her eyes to absorb that information, feeling an unprecedented swell of hatred against the man who had reduced her darling niece to this state. She wished she could have killed the man. She would have if she had been given the choice but Nettie along with the seven had made the best decision for Casey by remaining silent and letting Blackwood leave without incident. They had hoped that his leaving would allow Casey to deal with her ordeal a little easier but once again Blackwood had bested them in that desire. He had left Casey something behind to always remember him. Damn, Nettie hated that man with an intensity she never knew was possible until now.
"You hush now," Nettie said firmly, not at all wishing Casey to think that she was at fault. Looking around, she reached for a folded blanket and spread it out quickly over Casey, hiding tell tale signs of what Nettie was certain was a miscarriage in the process of taking place. The blanket would not rouse too much suspicion as Casey was sweating profusely and anyone who did not happen to be a doctor might think she was a feverish. "I'll get Alex."
"Yes," Casey nodded wildly. "Please get Alex."
Nettie realised then that Casey had confided in Alex about her problem and felt a tinge of jealousy that the doctor had more of Casey's trust than herself. However, Nettie brushed that thought away because it would not serve at the moment. Besides, it would make sense that Casey went to Alex first. The doctor would help confirm whether or not she was pregnant and it would not be wrong to say that Casey might believe Nettie would be angry with her. After all, the young tended to believe the old were so set in their ways that they might not understand youthful troubles.
The boys were still riding shotgun to the convoy so naturally all Nettie had to do was stand up and wave one of them to her. The rest of the convoy was proceeding by them and a few faces were looking in their direction to discern why they had stopped. It was Vin Tanner who caught sight of Nettie first and the tracker immediately galloped towards the old lady. Fortunately, JD was on the far side of the convoy at the moment, so he would not have seen Nettie's request for help. Vin arrived on Peso a few seconds later, bringing his horse along side the carriage and looking into the tray of the wagon where Nettie and Casey were presently.
"What is it?" Vin asked although he could clearly see that Casey was suffering some kind of ailment.
"We need Alex," Nettie declared without hesitation. "Something isn't right with Casey."
Vin met the old lady's gaze and nodded simply, requiring no other explanation then that. The tracker tipped his hat forward briefly in Nettie's direction before he started riding towards his wife's wagon. Once he had gone to fetch Alex, Nettie turned back to Casey and dabbed a handkerchief on the young woman's glistening forehead. Her temperature was up and her skin felt warmer than usual against Nettie's palm. The old lady tried to remain calm, reminding herself that Casey needed her this way.
"Its gonna be alright Casey." Nettie cooed softly even though she was still weeping softly. "I promise."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you Aunt Nettie," Casey met her gaze with tear filled eyes. "I didn't want anyone to know. I was just so ashamed."
"You got nothing to be ashamed of Casey," Nettie said with hesitation and with the firm voice that told Casey that she was to be believed and obeyed. "You ain't the one who did wrong here. That was Blackwood. Its a woman lot to bear the consequences of a man's needs but you didn't even get that choice. He's a low down animal that did this to you, don't ever believe that you were responsible."
Casey did not answer but at least Aunt Nettie understood. Even it was not the whole truth.
Night started to descend and Vin felt time pressing up against his spine in icy cold tendrils.
There was a hushed silence throughout the town and nothing stirred almost as if its citizens had indeed abandoned the town. Vin stood on the roof of the Emporium for it was the tallest building in town and afforded a sweeping view of the flat terrain before them. On the other side of town, Buck Wilmington had taken up similar position on the roof the grain exchange. They were the sentries that would watch for the first signs of the coming attack. Vin forced away the involuntary urge to think about Alex whom he had left hours ago with Casey Wells. He hoped the young woman came through her ordeal in on pieces and was glad that he had forced Alex to join the convoy. If she had not, there was no telling what would have happened to Casey in her time of need. Fortunately, he had managed to keep JD far enough away for the young man to discover what state his fiancée was in. Casey was having a bad enough time without having to deal with telling about her situation. As far as Vin was concerned, it was all women's business anyway.
He looked into the night and could feel the air of anticipation was moving through Four Corners like a drifting mist. Diana Belladonna had provided no information about how large a war party they were about to encounter but to take a town, Vin guessed it had to be sizeable. While Vin tried not to feel empathy for the Indians in this instance, he could not help himself. He had spent time with the Commanche, Kiowa and the Apache, although the latter was something he tried not think about too often for the unpleasant memories that it brought to surface. However, he could understand why they had been driven to this course even if it was pure foolishness and would hasten their demise as a race rather than save it.
He heard someone climbing up the ladder to the roof and felt no alarm because he guessed who it was even before that person made his appearance. Chris Larabee emerged a second later through the accessway from the floor below and stepped on to the roof, keeping his head low as he approached Vin whose gaze was still fixed in the distance. He could see nothing yet and wondered how long it would take for their attackers to appear. Almost all lights in the town were illuminated, giving the Apaches the indication that their attack would have the element of surprise. Chances are a few scouts would attempt to infiltrate the town first and give a signal for the others to appear if things were not as they anticipated.
"Any sign?" Chris asked quietly as he took a seat next to Vin.
"No," the tracker shook his head. "Not a damn sign of them."
"I hope Ezra is right about this." Chris muttered. "A lot of scared men down there as it is."
"They're coming." Vin said firmly.
"You know something I don't?" Chris looked at him.
"No," Vin's profile revealed his lip curling into a little smile. "I saw the look in Naiche's eyes. He was spoiling for a fight. Can't say he doesn't have cause but he's angry."
Vin's attention shifted from Chris when he saw something in the distance. Something moving through the dark in a vague shadowy shape. No sound out of the ordinary was made as he saw the shape move closer and closer to the edge of light that kept the town aglow. The moon was still full so Vin had been able to make out the shape as it approached. He grabbed Chris and immediately pulled the gunslinger to the ground, so that they would remain unseen. Chris understood and made no reaction, pulling off his hat so that that the line of the roof would remain unbroken.
"How many did you see?" Chris asked in a soft whisper.
"Just the one." Vin said quietly. "But there'll be more coming from different places around town."
Vin removed his slouch had and continued to watch the shape he had spied breaking into the light of the town and moving quickly towards the livery. He took a deep breath and knew that as soon as the scouts penetrated the building it was time to move. Very early on when planning the strategy of how they would deal with the attack, Chris has decided that they would have to catch the enemy by surprise. Vin knew enough about the Apache to know the signals they would use to alert their brethren waiting in the dark that it was safe to attack. The only way to use this information was to discern early on when the scouts would be coming in order to trigger the signal that would bring the others.
"I guess this is it." Vin looked at Chris.
"I guess so." Chris replied and nodded slightly.
The citizens of Four Corners, not to mention the seven were mobilized for the Apache call that Vin would make when the time had come. The Apache scouts who penetrating the township of Four Corners would soon discover that despite the lights in every house, many of the buildings would be unoccupied because the men who had opted to stay and fight were already in position for the coming onslaught. A perimeter of dynamite had been created a safe distance from the Four Corners. As when the bandits paid by Stuart James and Guy Royal had attacked the town, it was necessary to follow the same strategy because Four Corners was indefensible any other way because there were no natural landmark to keep the enemy from coming at them from all directions.
"Do it." Chris ordered and hoped to hell that they were ready because there would be no second chances if they were not.
Vin nodded and cupped his hands together before uttering the Apache signal that would bring the war party out of hiding. The sound sliced through the quiet of the night, an imitation of an animal native to these parts. In the distance an answer was given in the same imitation and Vin could imagine the confusion of the scouts who were at this moment, wondering which one of their number had given the signal prematurely. Vin returned the signal again, allowing the Apache to get confirmation that they had heard correctly. This time the answer received was a high pitched war cry that shattered the stillness of teh night and settled irrevocably the question of Ezra's information.
It began with a low thunder of horses that came from a distance. Chris knew everyone was poised to act now that they had heard Vin's signal. He could hear scuffling emanating from the town itself and guessed that the scouts were being dealt with. The rest of the town's people were awaiting their own signal to begin and Chris and Vin held their breath as they felt the vibration against the ground of hooves pounding against the dirt. Chris looked across the roof and saw Buck standing at the edge of the roof, looking in their direction and awaiting the signal.
Chris took a deep breath, bracing himself because the timing for this had to be perfect. He could not see the Apache just yet but the cloud of dust that had suddenly risen in the night sky indicated that they were definitely on a fast approach. Through the black, he could see a dark wall of flesh sweeping towards Four Corners and knew that those watching within the town could also see. He hoped no one lost their heads in the heat of the moment. He supposed it was too late to worry about that now because things were about to move very fast from this point on. He watched the war party approaching the perimeter they had established around town and wondered how time seemed to slow when he waited them to reach it.
"NOW BUCK!" Chris stood and shouted on top of his lungs when he saw the raiders about to cross the perimeter. "NOW!"
Buck Wilmington immediately forced down the lever on the detonator that would ignite at least a hundred sticks of dynamite that were planted around the town in the defensive perimeter they had created to halve the number of raiders when the attack finally came. The explosions followed almost immediately after and the sound of war cries that were tearing through the air like banshees in the night was suddenly replaced by thunderous roar of exploding dynamite. The distant night became illuminated by the flash point of the detonations, sending dirt and bodies in the air as the ground heaved in protest at is terrible violation.
Riders were thrown off their mounts, their bodies joining their steeds in broken agony. Amidst the pauses of the explosions, they could hear the screams of men and horses falling to the earth, they could hear the rain of dirt across the ground and the continuous thunder of hooves belonging to those that had broken the line of ammunition and were still coming. Still their numbers were curtailed severely from what they had been if bodies left on the ground. Buck saw the surviving riders approaching town and knew that they would be madder than hell at the loss of their comrades and prayed silently that Chris' plan would work. There was only one way to find out, he supposed and when he saw Chris standing up about to give the next signal to act, he knew that the time was at hand.
"GUNS!" Chris ordered.
Across the roofline facing the bare terrain around Four Corners, a phalanx of rifle barrels appeared and took aim. Chris' plan of defense relied heavily upon keeping the number of Indians entering Four Corners to a minimum so that the townsfolk, most of which were unaccustomed to fighting would have an even chance of survival. Even in the dark, he could see the faces behind those barrels etched with fear and knew that for many of them, this was the first time they had faced a situation like this where their lives hung so precariously in the balance.
"AIM!" He shouted as he saw the Indians entering rifle range.
Next to him, Vin immediately pulled out his rifle, the one that had come into his possession when someone had hired Lucious Stutz to kill Mary Travis. The weapon had been an assassin's gun and Vin had admired the workmanship although the nature of what it was crafted for still unnerved the tracker somewhat, Chris suspected. However, as a marksmans weapon, there was none finer anywhere in the Territory and the odds they now faced required all the skill and precision that Vin could muster. Vin used the wooden edging of the rooftop as a stand for his weapon and took careful aim, immediately putting the enemy into his cross hairs. Chris was a good shot with a rifle himself though he had none of the talent of Vin Tanner and his own rifle lay on the ground next to the tracker. Chris saw the enemy closer into view until there was no more time to reflect and he shouted his final order, rolling the dice on what fate had in store for him.
"FIRE!"
Flares of light move through the town like fire crackers being ignited. The fading eruption of dynamite had now been completely ecclipsed by the cackling cacophony of gunfire. Powerful burst of sound swept projectiles through the air and laid down a deadly barrage upon the enemy. Chris dropped to his knees and reached for his rifle, preparing to join his gunfire with those already assaulting the Apache raiders. He saw Apache braves being thrown off their horses when they met their fate at the end of a bullet. Those who fell were promptly tramped underfoot of horses that could not stop in time to avoid them. Screams and cries were heard as the deaths mounted and among those pained expressions was also an angry roar of defiance by the survivors who swore vengeance on the killer of their comrades.
Vin Tanner grieved each time he pulled the trigger but had little choice but to do so. It was a question of survival that was before him. His ammunition was laid out within easy reach and he pulled the trigger at five seconds intervals which was all the time needed for him to shoot his target and move on. The Apache made their raids at night so that it would be difficult to see their numbers but Vin could tell the barrage of sniper was having its effects upon the oncoming braves. The Apaches had begun to return fire for they were carrying rifles supplied by Hannibal Julius but they did not have the range or the stability required to be as effective as the snipers perched on the roof line of Four Corners. However, despite their falling number, there were enough raiders passing beyond the range of the rifles for Apache to still take the day.
Leaving their fallen behind, the Apache enemy soon entered town limits where their rifles were slung and their weapon of choice became an assortment of hand guns and. The minute the raiders had breached the town limits, Vin and Chris switched weapons and immediately descended from the rooftop. The townsfolk were ordered to remain above ground so that they were provided ample cover against the Indians who were more capable than they with close quarter combat. Chris and Vin, like the rest of the seven would continue the fight from the ground. The air was still charged from gunfire and hooves beating against the ground as the men lowered themselves into the Emporium once more.
By the time they had emerged to the ground level, the raiders were well and truly in town. Chris and Vin looked through the glass display window to see the Apache riding through the main street Four Corners on horseback. A number of riders broke off from the main group and rode briskly towards the Emporium and the buildings located in the same block. Gunfire was erupting from the men stationed overhead but those who were on the ground with them were also fighting with the same vigor. The flare of gunfire appeared sporadically from darkened alleys and vantage points chosen by the defenders to launch their defensive. As the group of braves approached the Emporium, Vin caught sight of one of them lighting a torch and came immediately to the conclusion what they were attempting to do.
"Aw hell..." Vin started to say as he saw the torch sail through the air, impacting against the large window and bringing down the glass with a shattering roar before landing on the floor near a bolt of fine lace. The flames ignited the crisp white material immediately, illuminating the inside of the store with amber hues.
"We got to put it out!" Chris shouted as his eyes searched frantically for something to beat out the flames with. The Emporium was one of the largest buildings in town and if it were set alight, its proximity to its neighbor would ensure the rest of the structures in the fire would spread. Chris hurried to the section of the store where the blankets were kept and tossed one to Vin as he returned to the scene of the fire. Vin caught it with one hand and the two men began attacking the flames which had spread to the rest of the fabric on display. There was simply too much flammable material in the Emporium to allow any fire to run rife. The smoke from the flaming cloth filled the air with noxious smoke and their eyes burnt as they tried desperately to suffocate the flames beneath the blankets.
Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw something emerging through the window and swung around just in time to see an Apache raider about to shoot Vin in the back. Without thinking, Chris drew and fired, sending the brave sprawling backwards across the front walk of the building onto the floor. Vin turned around sharply and realised what his best friend had done. The tracker merely tipped his hat in gratitude before beating out the last of the flames that had turned the fabric section of the Pemberton Emporium into a charred mess. Unfortunately there was little time to appraise their handiwork because Chris' gunfire had alerted the other raiders to their presence and small handful of Apaches were converging upon them.
"I think we're in trouble." Chris whispered as he and Vin sought out cover, in this instance behind the large serving counter in the back of the store.
"Been in tighter." Vin commented.
"Really? When?" Chris asked as a barrage of gunfire came at the counter, splintering wood as bullet slammed through the wooden panels.
"You want me to name something?" Vin asked as he stuck his head over the edge enough to squeeze a number of shots at the enemy. He was certain his bullets killed at least one of the shooters.
"Well you know me," Chris retorted, doing the same when Vin slunk behind the counter again. "Always being picky."
Chris emptied the entire contents of his peacemaker into the enemy bombarding their refuge with ammunition. He aimed in quick succession and was deadly accurate. Vin was a sharpshooter but Chris was a quick draw and was able to make almost every bullet count. He measured his success by the screams of the men he killed cried out when his bullets met their target. Although taking a life could hardly be called success, he thought as he heard his gun click with the sound of an empty chamber. Suddenly something leapt out at him from the corner of the counter. The raider had kept low and made it across the floor during all the pandemonium. Chris had little or no space to avoid him and both men went down hard on the floor.
"Chris!" Vin shouted but it was hard to help his friend when the space behind the counter was so narrow and shooting was not an option. If he stopped shooting at the others attempting to get through the window, they would get the drop on both he and Chris. The question was soon taken out of his hands when the shooting resumed and Vin was forced back under the counter. The gunfire seemed fiercer and Vin had this idea that their attackers had suddenly gained more assistance. Vin saw Chris grabbing the brave's gun as they wrestled and appeared to be capable of holding his own for the moment. It was just as well because if he stopped shooting to help the gunslinger, they would be overwhelmed with more than just the man Chris was fighting off.
Chris wrapped his fist around the man's wrist and slammed it against the wall, forcing the gun in his grip to fall. The brave brought his down on Chris' skull, knocking the gun fighter's skull against the floor and disorientating him for a few seconds. Chris felt the stinging pain dissipate just long enough to hear Vin shout. "Chris! He's got a knife!"
Chris blinked and saw the weapon come at him. He caught it in mid air and twisted the man's arm. The brave struggled hard but Chris was able to roll over him, the gunslinger's fist wrapped firmly his opponent's arm, who refused steadfastly to let go of the weapon he was holding even as Chris straddled him. There was a moment of clarity in the midst of all that straining when Chris felt something give and the brave uttered a sharp scream. The blade impacted against something hard, the hard stop vibrating up its length to tingle in Chris' grip. It took a few seconds for Chris to realize that the obstruction was the floor. The long blade had speared through the Apache brave and kept going until it hit wood. Blood pooled beneath his body and Chris pulled away, breathing hard as he saw the widening spread of crimson.
"You done with him?" Vin barked. The tracker was trying desperately to keep the group of Apache firing at them from outgunning him but was fast losing the battle. Each time he paused to reload was time they were allowed to make their advance into the building. He had already shot one or two of them who had been attempting to set the place ablaze once more and knew that he could not maintain this pace for long without his defenses being breached at some point.
"Pretty much." Chris looked into the face of his enemy and felt saddened that the brave he had killed could not have been more than 18 years old. A boy, the gunslinger thought regretfully.
"Well if you don't mind," the tracker retorted, unable to give Chris a moment when the situation was so critical. "I could use a hand here."
Chris saw at least four Apache warriors beyond the bullet-ridden walls that held the shattered display window and knew that Vin had every reason to fear. Immediately Chris retrieved the gun that had gone flying when he and the young brave had jumped him. Lending his firepower to that of the tracker's, both men continued the ruthless barrage of ammunition until one by one, those who would have burned them alive in the store were now lying dead among the rubble. As the sound of immediate gunfire came to a close, Chris let out a sigh and stood up to take a cautious look to see if the coast was clear for the moment. Vin was busy reloading the mare's leg, ready to continue the fight that was still progressing beyond the walls of the emporium. If the gunfire and pandemonium they could hear in the near by vicinity was any indication, the fighting was still fierce.
"You okay?" Chris asked as he let his gaze sweep across the room and winced at the destruction of life and property that lay before them.
Vin stood up and dusted particles of splinted wood, plaster and glass from his jacket and nodded. "Yeah."
Chris climbed over the counter and walked towards the broken window. Peering outside, he could see the Apache riding through town, carrying torches. Sporadic gunfire could be heard from above and on ground level as Four Corners maintained a united front to defend itself against the invaders. The Apache were on horseback and they were on foot. Bodies lay on the street and on the usually ordered boardwalks, some were Apache, some were not. Chris took a deep breath, aware that this night of fire and death was far from over. Grimly, he waited for Vin to reach his side before they continue forward.
"Any idea how we're gonna do this?" Vin asked when he did just that.
Chris stared into the depths of the night, watching friends fighting for their very lives at this precise moment and turned to Vin, the moonlight reflecting off his green eyes in the dark, making them appear almost feline. "Kill anything that tries to kill us first."
Vin could only nod because it was sound advice that made this whole situation all the more tragic.
JD Dunne heard something moving inside the Standish Tavern and knew that some of the Indians were starting fires to throw the town into further disarray. With both guns drawn, the young man stepped inside the familiar saloon when he and his friends so often shared a drink and heard no sounds of movement. However, if there was one thing that Buck had drilled into his head since meeting the man, it was the rule of going with his gut and at the moment, his gut told him he was not alone. JD was certain that there was noise that did not originate from the shooting that was occurring randomly throughout the town. He stepped through the batwing doors and looked around cautiously, seeing nothing out of the ordinary in the empty tables and unattended bar. When there was no one about, the bar seemed somewhat eerie and JD had to confess to disliking it intensely when it appeared this way.
He took another step into the place and winced when the floorboards creaked underfoot, giving away his presence. Swallowing thickly, he continued nonetheless, deciding what would happen would happen and was willing to accept things on that basis. His ears listened for the slightest sound but no repeat of what he had heard to bring him into the saloon occurred as JD moved past the table normally occupied by the seven towards the bar where Inez so often held court. His gaze shifted upward, wondering if perhaps whomever it was had made the noise was hiding upstairs but dismissed the possibility because the distance would make it improbable. Besides, even if by some miracle he had heard it originating from the upper levels, it would have been next to indistinguishable above the sound of gunfire.
No, whatever he heard was close.
JD neared the edge of the bar and suddenly heard what sounded like a clink of glass. Both guns swung in the direction of the space between the wall and the counter. Beads of sweat started to run down his skin. The heat of the night and the fires burning in some buildings had covered his skin with soot and made it feel insufferable in his clothes. Growing impatient with waiting, he decided to take a more direct approach. He knew it could be no Indian behind the counter because Apache didn't hide but someone was definitely there and he really did not have the patience for it.
"You come out there!" JD ordered. "Don't make me come and get you. I know someone's there."
He waited for a reaction and the seconds stretched into a full minute with JD seriously considering repeating his message when suddenly he heard another clink of glass and the shuffling sound of a decision being made. He held his breath, uncertain what to expect as his prey rose from behind the counter. JD did not know what he expected but what stepped into view was certainly enough to give him pause.
It was an Apache warrior no more than sixteen years of age.
JD knew he was a warrior because he was painted with all the colors the other braves were but there was no doubt in the young man's mind that the boy before him was not at all like his older counterparts turning Four Corners inside out with violence. Both of them stared at each other for a moment, unaware of who was more shocked. JD could tell that the boy was terrified. He was clutching a gun in his hand and the tension in his knuckles seemed to indicate that he was too terrified of using it. JD remembered Vin telling them that an Apache youth was made a warrior at the age of fifteen but did not believe it until now. He remembered how terrified he had been at eighteen when he left home for the first time bound for the West, he could not imagine what this boy must be feeling.
"You're just a kid." JD muttered and felt it ironic that most people saw him and thought the same thing.
The youth did not answer him but his eyes wide watched JD.
It would be so easy to pull the trigger right now, JD thought to himself. So easy to shoot down this boy who wore the face of his enemy and no one would blame him for it. However, when he had shot Annie Nechaus by mistake, JD learnt that there was a price to every death, no matter how justified one might feel. He did not need to kill this boy who was more afraid of him then JD was afraid of letting him go. No, he did need to do that at all and felt pleased that he had come to this conclusion on his own. Perhaps what everyone was telling him lately was true; he was growing and becoming the kind of man he always wanted to be.
"Go on." JD replied, waving him away with and gesturing towards the door. "Get out here!"
The boy stared at him not understanding.
"I said git!" JD repeated himself and started to wave one of his guns at the boy.
Almost as soon as he did it, he knew it was a mistake because the Apache youth already terrified beyond belief reacted to the movement of his short barrelled Lightning Colt violently, swinging the gun he had been holding in his hands at JD's direction. JD saw him readying to pull the trigger and acted on instinct, firing just as blindly as the enemy before him. The boy's bullet grazed his shoulder and sent him stumbling into a table. The Apache was not as fortunate with JD's offering as he crashed into the shelves behind him laden with glass bottles, bleeding from a bullet that tore easily through his skin, then his rib cage to lodge deeply in his heart. His eyes opened in shock and pain, almost as if he could not believe this was happening.
JD watched his fall, bringing down all the bottles on top of him. The young sherrif scrambled over the counter and landed next to him, his boots crushing glass underfoot. The scene that awaited him seared into his mind as he saw the boy cut to ribbons, dying.
"Why did you do that!" JD shouted at the boy who stared back at him with rapidly unseeing eyes, choking on the shards of glass lodged in his neck. "I wasn't gonna hurt ya!" He cried out in anguish.
The boy did not answer and this time it was because he simply could not. Tears rolled from the corner of his eyes and became lost in blood. His lips quivered as he attempted to form words but could not quite manage it. He shuddered once more as his eyes fixed on JD and then saw nothing more when his dwindling life slipped away completely. JD turned away, unable to look any more although he doubted that he would ever sleep without seeing that terrified face in his dreams. In some ways, it was even worse than accidentally killing Annie. With Annie, he had not known what he had done until it was over but this occasion would follow him until he died with every detail enacted with clarity. He blinked, feeling his own tears threatening to come, trying to make himself feel better by justifying the death but he could not. He just could not.
Suddenly the bat wing doors swung open and an Indian brave burst through it, drawing his weapon upon catching sight of JD. This was no boy frightened of being trust into his first real battle but a man, seasoned and every much the warrior. His eyes met JD and instinctively, the young sherrif knew that the brave would kill him with no hesitation or doubt. Both barrels his lighting colt flew at the man just as he raised a rifle to fire. JD did not know who pulled the trigger first because he leapt out of the way the minute he heard the tremendous explosion of sound as both guns sang in unison. The projectile from the bullet smash into a bottle behind him, shattering it with a resounding crash and sending shards in all direction. JD dropped to the floor as he saw the bullets coming from his gun being just a fraction more accurate. The brave took both bullets in the upper torso and fell backwards through the door. He did not pass through them but collapsed on the floor nearby.
For a second JD did not move, just as the body of the man he had killed did move. He saw the blood pooling and the slackened grip around the weapon that could have taken his life and understood then and there that he done what he had to survive, just as it had been when he shot that poor foolish boy. He had been trying to survive. It was not much comfort after what had happened but JD realised than he was not meant to feel better about death, it was meant to linger in the heart if he was to learn anything.
After seeing that boy, JD had learned a great deal.
Josiah could not tell whether or not they were winning but it appeared that the attack was nowhere the slaughter it was meant to be. He lost sight of the others and wondered how they were faring. Despite himself, the preacher felt a little vulnerable without the others. There was something about being part of the seven during a gunfight that was strangely comforting. He moved through the boardwalk, staying close to the shadows as he saw Virgil Watson from the room of his store, playing sniper. The hardware store owner was doing his level best to keep any of the raiders from destroying his store but there were too many of them attempting to get past the defense he had been laying down in the form of rifle fire. Josiah caught sight of an Apache warrior preparing to make another torch, with every intention of flinging it into the hardware store.
Josiah searched the immediate vicinity for a safe place to provide Virgil with assistance and located a large stack of crates that could probably withstand a good number of bullets. He saw the brave he had seen earlier lighting the torch he had been making, flames immediately catching alight the fabric he had used as fuel. Making sure he remained anonymous until he reached safety, Josiah kept his head low and dashed across the space between the boardwalk and the crates. He skid behind the narrow enclosure just as the raider was about to fling his burning weapon into the store and quickly fired. His bullet struck the centre of the man's palm, forcing a shout of pain but also dropping the torch to the ground in the process.
Alerted by a new threat, the Indians attacking the hardware store and its owner immediately turned towards Josiah and concentrated their fire on the wooden boxes that offered them protection. Josiah huddled for a few minutes as the wood around him splintered from the numerous bullets tearing through it. He had to wait until they had paused to reload before he could return any fire. Josiah fired his Remington until the chamber was exhausted; killing two of the men that were trying to kill him before their companions resumed shooting with equal vigor. Once again Josiah was forced to retreat until suddenly he noticed the number of shooters in his direction began to gradually decrease until he was able to peer over the edge of the crates to defend himself. Glancing upwards, he saw that this was due to the fact that Virgil Watson had come to his rescue as Josiah had done for the man himself a short time ago.
It was a rather nice change actually.
The fighting was drawing to a close. With the help of the townspeople and Chris' strategy of cutting down enemy numbers before they actually reached Four Corners, the battle was tipping in favor of the small community. It was dawning on some of the raiders that they had spent too much time in Four Corners and their numbers were dwindling far more progressively then that of their enemy. As the night continued towards daylight, some were beginning to break off their hostilities in favor of making a strategic retreat. It was during this period that Ezra Standish sought out Chris Larabee. He had plans that required him elsewhere at this time and if he wanted to fulfil his unspoken agenda, he would have to leave now. The days were he would have simply left without giving anyone any indication of his plans were behind him and before he scattered to the Four Winds, he would at least tell Chris Larabee of his intent to depart.
Chris was in the midst of discussions with Yosemite and Vin when Ezra found him. Four Corners looked like it had been trapped in the middle of a war zone. The damage to the town however, though significant was not unrepairabe and Ezra knew that Chris had to be feeling somewhat pleased about that, though one could not tell from the grim expression on the man's face. His eyes rose to meet Ezra's as soon as the gambler approached.
"Mr Larabee I need a word with you." Ezra replied.
Chris nodded and stepped away, leaving Vin and Yosemite to continue without him before he took a moment alone with Ezra. "What is it?" Chris asked, hoping it was not some new calamity so soon after they had dealt with the last one. Buck and Nathan were taking of any stragglers still left in town and Josiah and JD had just gone to help. Chris hoped Ezra had not come from there bringing ill news.
"I am going." Ezra said simply since there was no other way to tell him.
"Going?" Chris asked with a hint of demand. "Where?"
Ezra merely stared back at him and Chris immediately knew.
"Julius?" The gunslinger hissed. "You know where he is?"
Ezra nodded. "I managed to convince Miss Belladonna that it would be in her best interest to tell me where he was."
Chris saw the intent in Ezra's eyes and knew what the man was going to do when he found Julius. Chris could not blame him for wanting his vengeance and Julius was a fanatic that had to be stopped. If the reasons for his end was one man's vengeance, Chris could live with that but the truth was, Julius was better a matyr than he was a living demigod to those who followed him. The crux of his organisation rested on the man's personality, he alone kept the chaff together. Without him, they would scatter to the winds and the threat of the Citadel would be forgotten. Chris did not condone murder but vengeance was entirely different thing all together and what Julius had done certainly warranted it.
"Vin," Chris did not turn away from Ezra as he called out to the tracker.
"Yeah?" Vin responded automatically.
"I need to take a ride with Ezra, you think you can handle things on your own for a while?"
"Don't see why not," Vin shrugged. "Looks like we got them on the run. What's up?"
"Just a little private business we got to take care of.." Chris answered elusively much to Ezra's relief.
"Sure." Vin retorted. "I reckon we'd be fine."
"Shall we?" He asked Ezra, with a tone that meant his accompanying the gambler was not up for discussion or debate for that matter. The only way Ezra was leaving Four Corners was with Chris at his side. Over the years, he had become accustomed to an Ezra who was more concerned with profit rather than personal vendettas. Granted this side of him was more than justified for making its appearance, however, Chris was uncertain how Ezra would behave when seeking retribution. What he had done to Diana was proof enough that he was acting very much against his nature and if that were the case, Chris could not depend on Ezra to proceed with his usual deliberation or caution.
At the moment, Ezra Standish was one of hell of a wild card and Chris could not afford to risk letting him play alone.
Something had gone wrong with the plan.
Hannibal Julius sat in his retreat located at the foot of the Seminole Mountains pondering this question and trying to understand from where this substantial flaw might have had its origins. Although Kitson said little, Julius could see his newest protégé had deepening concerns at the continued absence of Diana Belladonna. She should have been back last night and agents sent on his behalf to inquire after had no evidence of where she might be at this moment. Although logically, it would be sensible to delay if their plans were compromised but Julius would hear nothing of it. This was his time, his first true step to establishing his new Empire; he would not turn back now.
"We should really thing about delaying." Kitson responded as the time drew terribly close for the Citadel's contingent of men to ride out and provide aid to the large body of Indians that were about to sweep across the Territory in uprising. "There have been rumors that the army has been deploying its forces and new troop movements."
"They are merely consolidating their hold on the area," Julius dismissed his lieutenant's concern with a wave of his hand. "I would not worry about it. My sources in the military made no mention of anything out of the ordinary and reported it as such. It is not uncommon to do reorganization with the unhappy sentiment emanating from the Indian populace of late. In fact, I would be more suspicious if they did nothing."
"I suppose," Kitson said dubiously. "What about Diana?" His voice almost held a hint of challenge.
"That is a different matter but a woman on her own may fall into unfortunate circumstances unrelated to our present scheme. You have spoken to the Apache?"
"Yes," Kitson nodded. "They said she left directly after delivering your instructions."
"And they had no difficulty with those instructions?" Julius stared at him.
"None," Kitson responded, realizing then he was arguing for a lost cause. Despite his devotion to his master, he felt a little unsettled by Julius' disregard for the life of one of his own. Since coming into the service of the Citadel and Hannibal Julius, Beauregard Kitson believed in what Julius was doing even if he was a little eccentric at times, the most notable being Julius' predilection for males. If given a choice, Kitson would have rather killed Ezra Standish then see what had happened to him at Julius hands. There was some semblance of morality in him that still felt that there were lines that should not be crossed, rape of a man or a woman for that matter, was one of those. Still he fought for the reestablishment of the south he loved and so that forced him to endure the man's habits.
Julius stared at Kitson from the wing chair in the parlor of the homestead he had occupied for some time now. The previous inhabitants were left in unmarked graves at the rear of the backyard, having shuffled off the mortal coil so that Julius could begin his tenancy. Kitson was a good man but he was sentimental and Julius made note to keep closer eye on him following their present. Glancing at the pocket watch in his expensive suit, he took note of the time and raised his gaze to Kitson's once more.
"It is time you were going Mr Kitson." Julius reminded him. "Its time."
"Are you joining us?" Kitson inquired, guessing that Julius probably would not. The man did not feel it necessary to be actively involved in the actual killing his grandiose plans seemed to require.
"I will arrive at the scene soon enough," Julius said tautly, not at all liking the tone of the question. "Go."
Kitson nodded and turned on his heels. Julius settled into his chair when he was alone, talking a long deep sip from the sifter of cognac that had been resting on the table beside him. He drank the cognac thinking pleasant thoughts of the conflagration that Four Corners must be enduring at this time while hearing in the distance, the voices of men mounting horses in preparation to leave. He thought about Ezra Standish and an involuntary smile came to his lips at what the man must have endured since their encounter. Pity he was so adverse to the idea of bedding a man, Julius thought as he remembered how satisfying taking Ezra had been. Perhaps Julius should have kept him just a little longer to 'educate' him. Doesn't matter now, he supposed with a sigh if Ezra was not already dead, his beloved town and his woman would have met an incendiary end for certain.
The floor trembled for a moment at the pounding of hooves as Kitson led the men away to join forces with the Indians who would be sweeping across the Territory. He listened for a little longer, hearing those sounds diminish into the night like a fading breath of wind that had swept across his cheek. He finished to contents of the sifter and then refilled the glass receptacle with more amber fluid, idly wondering how long it would take before he would ride into Four Corners after the destruction was more or less complete and surveyed the damage. He did so hope that the Apache had taken survivors. If they could not take Ezra alive, he would be just as satisfied with Larabee.
He wondered briefly how Ezra would have fared explaining the truth to Larabee. He strongly suspected that the gambler would have kept his ordeal a secret. These frontier men had very little tolerance for that kind of inclinations. He was certain that any revelation made by Ezra would undoubtedly scar his relationship with his friends permanently which made Julius enjoyment of the experience all the more sweeter. Julius continued to work steadfastly through the decanter of cognac, his thoughts swirling around Ezra Standish, his god hood and the patterns of amber in his glass. Time slipped away from him without his even realizing it. It did not matter that it did anyway, Gods had no need to mark the passage of time.
Suddenly the doorknob twisted and Julius looked up just in time to see it swing open.
His first impulse was to go for a gun but there was hardly time for that as the audible click of a gun snatched his attention away from that futile attempt. Ezra Standish strode into room, his gun drawn and eyes basking in the sight of Julius like a starving lion that had caught its first scent of a dying zebra. The gambler moved into the room like a shadow beam of light, casting darkness as he slipped deeper into the room. Behind him, Chris Larabee who was usually the most overpowering presence in any room could not compete with the radiating darkness of the gambler that threatened to draw all light towards him.
"Hello Julius." Ezra said in a voice not quite his own. He had no idea how he was going to be seeing Julius again but now as he cast his gaze upon the man who had given nightmares the likes of which he had never known in his life, all he felt was this numbness and detachment. It was as if the soul had drained away from him completely.
"Ezra," Julius responded aloofly, not about to show either man that he was concerned at their appearance. "What a pleasant surprise. Come back for more?"
Ezra flinched just enough for Julius to know that his remark had struck a nerve and the man continued, reveling in the power he still had over the gambler. "And you've brought a friend. Perhaps you would like us both to have turns."
"Shut up." Chris found himself saying, unable to imagine what kind of evil could lurk in that vapid face so full of arrogance but none of the intellect truly needed to be the man he wanted. Unfortunately in Julius' case, he was about to get one hell of a reality check.
"It is perfectly alright Mr Larabee," Ezra replied, his eyes never leaving Julius'. "He is merely afraid. At this moment, he has deduced that keeping us talking will give him the time to come up with some form of plan or at the very least, give his men time to come to his aid."
"I reckon you're right," Chris nodded with a little smile before meeting Julius' gaze. "Too bad they're all dead. You didn't think anyone would find you so there were that many men left to protect you. We took care of them easy enough. Most of them died without making a sound."
"I see that you have me cornered." Julius shrugged and extended his hand outwards to Ezra. "You've won Ezra. My congratulations. I will cooperate fully while you savor victory at my capture. I don't suppose you'd care to reveal how you came by the location of my hiding place?"
Chris glanced at Ezra, showing the gambler that it was his decision to reveal that information. Ezra's guns were still drawn but he had paused by a knife that was nestled under a display case in the parlor. For a few seconds, he did not respond as he studied the large bowie knife gleaming under the dull light of the room. "Diana Belladonna." Ezra said offhandedly. "I found her when she was returning from her rendezvous with the Apache. Let us just say that I convinced her to impart the information by brutal force. Once she was in a little pain, she was rather helpful."
"And what else did she tell you?" Julius said tautly, realizing that Diana was privy a great deal more than he could afford to have revealed.
"Enough. When your men get to those towns they intend on raiding with the Indians, the army will be waiting for them. We knew about that well before Diana gave it to us. She just helped us save Four Corners which though a little worse for wear is just fine." Chris revealed with a predatory sneer.
"So now you've come to arrest me is that it?" Julius asked, oblivious to the fact that Ezra had removed the knife from its case.
"No." Ezra answered before Chris could. "Mr Larabee," he turned to the gunslinger as he fingered the long blade in his hand. "Perhaps you should canvass the area, ensure that we have not left anyone behind."
Chris met Ezra's gaze and nodded in silent understanding. He had agreed to his and he would stand by his promise, no matter how distasteful Ezra's actions was going to be. He supposed that after what Julius had done to him, it was only fair that the gambler demanded retribution, even a bloody one. "I'll leave you to it."
"What's going on here?" Julius started to feel tendrils of fear crawling up his back as Chris Larabee started to retreat out of the room. He turned to Ezra as the door closed behind the gunslinger to see Ezra smiling at him with an expression on his face that was full of sinister malevolence. "You do not frighten me." Julius retorted. "You're not a killer."
Ezra's response was to promptly blow away his kneecap.
Julius screamed loudly as he dropped to the floor clutching the shattered knee that was agonizing in the pain it caused throughout his body. Once he was down and writhing in pain, appearing quite incapacitated, Ezra took a step closer.
"You will never see the inside of a courtroom Julius." Ezra remarked, still holding the gun in his hand and the knife in the other. "You took away everything inside of me I could call a man and destroyed it. You turned me into a monster and made me hurt the people who mean everything to me, even more than my so called shame. If I spend an eternity of time in hell for this, I am prepared for that. Unfortunately, since I cannot injure you in the way you did me, I have been forced to improvise Your vengeance against me was against my manhood, so I will be petty and play tit for that, at least in the physical sense."
Julius' eyes widened as he saw the gleam of the knife in Ezra's hand.
"No!" He screamed in terror as he tried desperately to crawl away.
Ezra's hand lashed out, catching his uninjured leg by the foot and kept him from getting away. "Do not worry Julius," Ezra's eyes gleamed in sinister fire. "And do tell me if your balls taste as sweet as my ass, that is if you can still talk with your mouth full."
Chris Larabee lit a cheroot as the first screams shattered the night deciding that the wild cards that get played the least were often the most dangerous.
Until this moment, he had never realised how much.