Charles ducked into the bank, pulling his black hat close to his head as the dust started flying outside. He wasn't going to stick his neck out for the outlaws. He'd be in line to get free if the fight went well. If it didn't, he could come up with another plan. Abyss, he might get the two groups to take each other out and solve his problems for good in the long run.

But, if things went wrong too quickly, he wouldn't get close to anything he wanted. It was a delicate balance, looking out for himself while also needing the outlaws to survive long enough to make a dent in the problem. That was why when he reached the second floor, where the swordsman fought the big man, Charles had to make a choice.

The swordsman was on his knees, sword at his side in the center of a room filled with desks. Many had been thrown to the side in the conflict, and papers littered the floor around the fighters. That didn't match the fight he had seen earlier, and Charles didn't see an injury on the fighter beyond a cut in his shoulder.

Surely that wasn't enough to take him down.

"Hey." The big man reached out with one weapon poking it at the fighter. "What's wrong with you?"

Brr.

Charles flattened himself against the wall as a strange sound echoed through the room. He couldn't identify what it was. It sounded like a deep rumbling, like a stone collapsing beneath the ground. It grew louder and louder until a crack formed in the far wall.

Crack. Crrsh.

A sharp spade cut through the wall, carving down the line like it was slicing through butter. With a single slice, it opened a hole, and a long, muscled tan arm followed a long shovel through. A tall woman stepped through the hole, long black boots clunking to the ground.

"Cragg," she said, nodding to the large man. "You alright?"

"I think he fell," Cragg said, looking down on Sayed.

"Mister Deadman broke one of the gems for them," the woman said. "He had that as a backup plan."

"Gems?"

"He took some as a precaution." She shook her head, approaching Sayed.

"He's stuck?"

"Yeah."

"No fight?"

"No."

"What do we do?"

"Kill him so we can help Mister Deadman." The woman smirked, revealing sharpened teeth. "The longer we're up here, the more problems we'll have later."

"I guess." Cragg frowned. "He killed Bragg, but I wanted to fight more."

He raised his hammer high, and Charles frowned. After breaking the gem, Ortega was down for a good few moments. It would ruin the entire operation if they had the gems for the entire crew. Charles bit his lip, his mustache twitching as he looked between the two standing people.

If they were beaten this easily, he wouldn't have the chance to swoop in at the end and solve his problem. Their enemies weren't even bloodied. Charles needed to intervene, either so Ortega's crew would win, or they would draw.

All he would need to do was buy some time, which would give Sayed a fighting chance. He drew his revolver and lined up the shot. Without his curse active on the bullet, it wouldn't be as useful as he wanted it to be, but he was just a distraction.

Bang. Thud.

The bullet slammed into Cragg's shoulder but didn't pierce. Cragg stopped in his swing, his eyebrows twitching as he looked at Charles. Of course, they were too strong for a normal shot to work. That was why he had his curse.

A bullet that canceled the effects of aether, including other curses, could pierce through aetherically fortified skin. It could also break through constructs made from aether. Charles's curse was a game-ender when used on unaware opponents.

If only he weren't using it to free himself and Ortega.

"Better appreciate this, Ortega."

He lined up the sights on Cragg. He would take the shots quickly, so he had to focus. He took in a breath and exhaled. As the breath exited his body, he pulled the trigger.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Thud. Thud. Ting.

Two more shots slammed into Cragg's hand, knocking his sword down. The woman's shovel intercepted the third and caused it to ricochet off into the wall. Charles shook his head, ducking behind the wall and starting for the nearest stairs.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

He thundered up them because retribution would be hot on his heels like the black dogs.

"Hammer Swing!"

Crack. Boom.

The wall behind him exploded into a shower of splinters as Cragg charged through. Charles only glanced at the man rolling through like a boulder with his hammer. He had two shots left in his revolver before he had to reload. He was better off running.

"Get back here!" Cragg yelled.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He charged up the stairs on all fours, tossing his hammer to the side as he scrambled. He climbed like a boulder with arms, which was an impossible image to Charles. Charles hit the top of the stairs and turned up the next set, not bothering with the one door on the landing.

Crack. Crrsh.

The rumble from before ran through the walls, ending with the shovel cutting through the wall on the landing. The woman popped out of a carved hole in the wall, stepping on it just before Cragg could reach the landing.

She looked up at Charles, her arms flexing as she planted the tip of her shovel into the wood. Charles could never have imagined that a shovel could be such a fearsome weapon, but this was the first time he had seen one used to dig with such speed.

It had to be part of her curse.

"Who's the rat dumb enough to start a fight with us?"

Bang. Ting.

Charles took the shot, but the woman threw her shovel between them with a blur of speed. She smiled at him, her red hair blazing like a fire behind her. Bolton had one more shot.

"Maybe I was wrong," Charles said, his mustache twitching as Cragg stopped behind her. "I just want off this rotten island."

Creak.

She was too tall for the stairs and would need to duck down if she kept climbing. Cragg's bulk was pushing through the railing, and if he moved too quickly, Charles imagined the entire thing would crack. He had options, but the question was whether he could use them. All he needed to do was buy time.

"And who are you?"

"Charles Bolton." Charles smiled, lowering his gun. "Outlaw."

Charles wasn't that well known yet, but he had made a name for himself in some robberies. There was some hope that they might know him and the strength behind his name. That was why any outlaw would declare themselves. It could help them get out of a fight.

"You know him, Cragg?"

Crack.

"No, Lucre." Cragg leaned to the side, and part of the railing broke.

"Some no-named outlaw, throwing out his name like it means something." Lucre shook his head. "You're no 'Tin Man.'"

Bolton's mustache twitched at that. She had to say it. A fire sparked in his belly as he chewed at the air. A grunt escaped his lips as he stared down at the woman. She had the nerve to say such a thing. To take his name and grind it down in the dirt like it was worthless.

"What did you say?"

He said it cold and slow, but his hand shook at the words. His heart, steady throughout the chase, began to beat rapidly in his chest. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as his whiskers frayed.

"Did I stutter?" Lucre grinned her pointed teeth at him. "You're. No. 'Tin.' 'Man.'"

Bang. Crack. Click. Whir. Clack.

Charles's shot hit her in the mouth. It would crack through her teeth and come out the back of her throat. He immediately knocked open his slider, pulling out a moon clip with his other hand and racking another set of six bullets. His gun resettled on her as she stood, head knocked back.

His whiskers relaxed, and his heart slowed down.

"Lucre?"

Crack.

Cragg stood, grabbing hold of the woman's shoulder and shaking it. The woman didn't move, frozen like a statue with her face watching the ceiling. Charles lined up another shot.

"Grah!" the woman screamed, her head popping up to reveal she had caught the bullet between her fangs.

Charles's eyes widened. All he had to show for his shot was that two of her teeth were broken. Without his curse, his bullets weren't different from punches, and he didn't have unlimited ammunition.

"You're going to regret that!" Lucre yelled, taking her shovel in both hands and pointing it toward him. "Shovel Charge!"

"Ruh."

Clatter.

Pain spiked in his right shoulder. He dropped his gun as he fell, and the woman rode him to the ground. A pressure fell on his stomach as she stood over him. Her boot held him down, and her shovel held his shoulder.

His gun lay just out of reach, next to his immobilized right hand.

"I bet you thought you were clever, taking that shot," Lucre said, leaning down with a low voice. "You're lucky we're not supposed to kill anyone unless it's necessary."

"Lucky my ass." Charles clenched his teeth to push the pain out of his mind.

He needed to maintain his concentration. It was all that kept his memories intact. If he let go, he might not even remember he had a curse to fight off. His fingers twitched for his gun, but his arm wouldn't move. He wished he had his other gun but had given it to the bounty hunter.

Kindness was his undoing. If that wasn't the encapsulation of everything he had ever done wrong, he didn't know what was. From his first job to now, kindness has always been the problem.

"Gotta kill it," he whispered. "With everything you do and everything you are."

Squelch.

"Did I hear you right?" Lucre pulled her shovel up, releasing the pressure on Charles's shoulder.

It didn't stop the pain but freed up his arm. His fingers wiggled out, and he touched the butt of his gun with his middle finger. Just a little more, and he would have it.

Weern.

The shovel's metal vibrated as she brought it over his heart. Charles locked eyes with the woman. Dark brown eyes glared down at him down the shovel's shaft.

"You said you were ready to die?"

Charles pulled his gun a little closer, flexing one finger to put pressure on it. He pulled it into his hand, but his hand refused to close around it. His arm was like a floppy noodle, and he couldn't close his hand around the butt.

Thud. Thud.

"What about me?" Cragg appeared in his peripheral vision.

Lucre didn't take his eyes off of him. Charles was stuck, and there was nowhere to go. The moment she stabbed into his chest, he was done for. However, his heartbeat was steady. His breath was calm. He knew he was going to die, but that didn't matter.

"Go down and kill the swordsman, for your brother's sake," Lucre said, leaning forward on her shovel as it touched Charles's shirt. "I'm going to finish this one off."

"Yes, ma'am." Cragg lurched away.

"Now, what were we doing?" A sinister grin crossed Lucre's face, her pointed teeth showing as she stared down at Charles.

She was enjoying the idea of killing him but was also dragging it out. Charles understood it. She had that kind of personality. She enjoyed causing pain.

"You're making one mistake." Charles coughed.

"What's that?"

Bolton raised his left hand, grabbing the shovel. The point pushed deeper into his jacket but didn't break his skin. He held onto the shovel's head tight as he smiled back up at Lucre with the same manic smile.

"You shouldn't play with your food."

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