《Blood & Vapor: A Song of the West [Steampunk Western]》


 Chapter 1: Fangs of Steel

    Chapter 1: Fangs of Steel


    A scream of raw pain tore through the operating room, rattling off the steel walls like a caged animal.


    A hulking metallic arm, tipped with a syringe the size of a dagger, jabbed down into the thrashing patient. Machinery hummed low and steady, the vial on the arm draining with a slow, deliberate hiss.


    "Subject 231 is developing a tolerance to sedation."


    The elderly man¡¯s voice was calm, almost clinical. His left eye, glowing green, whirred as it telescoped outward, its lenses shifting quick and precise while he inspected his work.


    With a sharp clink, the eye snapped back into his skull. The spidery metal limbs sprouting from his back folded inward, each segment hissing as it slid beneath his robes.


    "Take the subject to recovery. Adjust the sedative to a 40% opium, 30% chloroform, and 30% chloral hydrate solution. Administer the second round of antibiotics once stabilization is confirmed."


    Stripping off his bloodstained gloves, he handed them to the blonde-haired woman at his side.


    Her pale blue eyes glowed faintly as she took the gloves, her movements slow and deliberate. The tight braid down her back hung sharp as a coiled whip.


    "Yes, Herr Doctor."


    Her gaze flicked to the unconscious patient, a cruel spark igniting in her eyes.


    "Dr. Ashbourne, may I make a request?"


    Dr. Ashbourne flexed his fingers, each joint bending at unnatural angles in jerky, erratic bursts.


    "Make it quick. I''m already behind schedule."


    "May I have this one?"


    The doctor turned, his eye telescoping out.


    "My dear Ingrid, have you grown attached? You did seem to savor 231¡¯s screams more than the others."


    Her grip tightened around her braid, fingers squeezing so hard she didn¡¯t register the bloodied gloves still clutched in them. A shiver ran through her, and a thin curl of vapor slipped past her lips.


    "I won¡¯t deny it, its suffering is... unique. I¡¯m certain it holds a note I¡¯ve been searching for¡ªa perfect addition to my Symphonie des Todes."


    Dr. Ashbourne chuckled as he crossed to the sink, unfastening his blood-soaked lab coat. He scrubbed his hands slow and methodical.


    "Once its usefulness is spent, it¡¯s yours. Alaric will be pleased to hear this¡ªwe¡¯ve been looking forward to it."


    He paused, tilting his head slightly.


    "What instrument?"


    Ingrid darted to a metal cart like a child chasing sweets, her blood soaked braid swaying behind her. She snatched up a bulky device, its surface scratched and smudged with soot.


    "I can hear it when it screams¡ªlonging, agony over something lost. The oboe will capture it perfectly."


    "The oboe? Intriguing. I would¡¯ve guessed the flute."


    Dr. Ashbourne¡¯s tone held a hint of amusement as he reached for a black coat hanging from a hook. With a smooth motion, he swung it over his shoulders, fastening the buttons up to his neck.


    "I assume this means you¡¯ll be missing service?"


    Ingrid didn¡¯t glance up, but the tool in her hand whirred to life, humming like it answered for her.


    "I apologize, Doctor. God¡¯s work is patient work."


    Vapor hissed from the tip as it spun up to speed, the grinding of metal filling the air as she turned it toward the patient¡¯s restraints, her focus razor-sharp.


    Dr. Ashbourne adjusted the cross around his neck, then pulled a large, weathered bible from a shelf.


    "And God¡¯s work is never done."


    Without another glance back, he started up the winding staircase, the grind of steel and the muffled, fevered moans trailing behind him. He gripped the book behind his back with both hands, thumbing its cover absentmindedly as he climbed. Each step was slow, deliberate¡ªlike he had all the time in the world.


    ----


    Fire ripped through subject 231''s chest. Each breath came ragged, raw, like he was sucking air through broken glass. His stitches burned, his wounds threatening to split open.


    ''Keep runnin''. Keep movin''.''


    The sand sucked at his feet, cold and slick with his own blood. His left arm dragged at his side, useless. The faint pulse of amber light beneath his poncho mocked him. Each flicker might as well have been a signal flare¡ªa beacon telling them exactly where he was.


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    A distant grind of metal. Gears clanking.


    ''Gettin'' closer.''


    Levi clenched his jaw. His fingers tightened on the blood-slick handle of his knife. He risked a glance back¡ªamber eyes cutting through the dark.


    ''Shit!''


    His chest heaved, lungs near giving out. He wasn¡¯t just running. He was hunting, looking for his place to make his kill.


    Up ahead, the land dropped off suddenly¡ªa dry riverbed cutting through the desert. Levi barely caught himself, boots skidding against the loose dirt.


    ''Here!''


    Jumping down, pain shot up his legs as he landed, but he didn¡¯t stop. He threw himself back, pressing into the dirt wall. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, breath tight, knife ready.


    He listened. Chest heaving, each breath a razor dragged through his ribs.


    The night hung thick. Heavy. No wind. No movement. Just the slow, creeping hiss of steam.


    Then¡ªthe clank of metal.


    A deep, distorted bark cut through the dark. Too close. Another followed, then another¡ªa chorus of steel-jawed hunters.


    His fingers clenched around the knife hilt, knuckles bone-white. His arm shook, but the blade? Steady as stone.


    The ground trembled. Steam vents hissed, iron paws striking dirt in measured steps.


    ''Come on!''


    Levi pressed himself deeper into the dirt, lungs tight, heartbeat slamming like a war drum.


    That arm. Dead weight. His fingers twitched, but the metal limb stayed stiff, useless.


    ''Breathe.''


    A final burst of steam shot through the silence.


    ''Now!''


    Dirt and stone exploded as the first hound dropped into the riverbed.


    Pushing off the wall, he timed his attack with its landing. Aiming for the gap between the jaw and the skull, he drove the blade deep.


    Click. His thumb slammed the switch on his blade¡ªPSSST!¡ªa burst of vapor shot into the wound.


    The hound screeched. Metal, bone, oil¡ªshattered. It hit the ground twitching, leaking. Dead.


    Levi ripped the knife free and ran.


    Behind him¡ªTHUD. THUD. The others hit the dirt. Barks. Grinding metal. Claws and steel digging deep.


    ''Don¡¯t look back. Move!''


    He pushed harder, boots hammering against the cracked riverbed. The bank rushed toward him.


    Too steep to climb. Not steep enough to stop him.


    He planted his foot, driving up the slope¡ªone, two, three steps¡ªthen kicked off hard.


    Twist. Flip.


    The air ripped past. The hounds snapped at empty space.


    He cleared them. Hitting the ground hard, he tucked into a roll and sprang to his feet.


    The second hound¡ªa hulking white-brute¡ªskidded, clawing deep as it tried to stop. Steam bursting from its vents.


    But Levi didn''t wait. He dove forward, desperation and fury sinking his blade deep into the hound¡¯s hip.


    Bone. A sick thud. A shattering yelp.


    ''Too deep.''


    His fingers jerked at the hilt, but his bowie knife was stuck. The steam charge spent.


    The hound bucked and thrashed, ripping the knife from his grip.


    No time to react.


    A blur of black. The second hound lunged, jaws snapping like a bear trap.


    Too fast. Too close.


    Levi threw himself back, arm raised on instinct.


    Metal met metal.


    A sickening crunch. Sparks burst. The hound¡¯s teeth clamped down¡ªon his arm.


    The arm that wasn''t his. The damned thing he never asked for. The curse welded to his flesh.


    The beast jerked, tore, twisted. Stitches ripped.


    Levi snarled through bloodied teeth.


    Pain. White-hot, ripping through him, but it was nothing compared to the fire boiling in his gut.


    He wasn¡¯t dying here.


    Spitting blood, his chest heaved.


    "You wanna kill me?!"


    His roar tore through the night, raw, edged with fury. Dripping. Bleeding. Staining the dirt. His heartbeat pounded¡ªa war drum, a hammer, a warning.


    His teeth ground tight, and he forced that cursed arm to move.


    "You ain''t got enough bite!"


    Light flared¡ªamber and blinding.


    Levi roared, planting his feet, twisting his hips. All his weight. All his fury.


    He wrenched his arm up, ripping the hound with it.


    Then he slammed it down.


    Skull met rock and blacksteel.


    Teeth exploded from its maw with a sickening crunch. Sparks spat from shattered augments. Its body seized¡ªjerking and twitching.


    Levi rolled, his knees hitting dirt. His good arm wrapped tight over his chest, ribs screaming, vision flickering.


    ''No time!''


    The white hound moved.


    Still carrying his knife in its hip. Still hungry for blood.


    It lunged. Jaws wide. Red eyes locked on his throat.


    ''MOVE!''


    Levi¡¯s metal fist shot up.


    It''s jaw met blacksteel. A wet crack.


    The beast flipped, crashing into the dirt, whimpering and weak.


    Levi¡¯s hand shot to his hip. Fingers closed tight around the hilt of his second knife. He twisted the base of it''s hilt¡ªclick. Steam primed.


    With no hesitation, he threw.


    Steel spun, whistling through the night and buried deep in the hound¡¯s neck.


    The mechanism triggered upon impact, a sharp burst of vapor.


    Pressure built¡ªthen ruptured.


    The white hound¡¯s throat tore open, a burst of steam and gore painting the dirt as they knife burst from its flesh.


    Levi moved.


    His hand snatched the knife mid-spin. One motion. Brutal and precise.


    Steel drove deep.


    A sharp crack¡ªit''s skull split.


    The glow in its eyes flickered. Dimmed, then died.


    Levi planted his boot against its skull, wrenching the blade free. His chest burning as his gaze snapped up.


    Amber eyes locked.


    The last hound had recovered. Steam hissed through its mangled jaws.


    A growl. Grinding metal.


    No more time. He had to end this.


    Levi broke first.


    A sprint. Heart pounding like a steam engine.


    The hound launched straight for his throat.


    Levi dropped low. His momentum carried him under. His knife drove up.


    Steel tore through flesh and metal, hot blood and oil bursting across him.


    The hound twisted midair and slammed into the dirt.


    Levi rolled, spitting blood as he shoved himself to his feet


    His breath came sharp. Unsteady.


    "I ain¡¯t fixin¡¯ to die today."


    He wiped his face. Steadied himself.


    "Not before I get what¡¯s owed."


    The thought of the stitcher¡ªthe bastard who took him, cut him up, turned him into this¡ªit''s what kept him going.


    That man had a debt coming. Him and every last one of his twisted men.


    Levi shoved the thought aside.


    He forced his legs forward. Stumbled to the hound¡¯s body.


    His fingers curled tight around the knife¡¯s hilt, yanking it free. He reloaded the steam capsules and then wiped the blades clean.


    Steel slid back into its sheath.


    No more time.


    No more hesitation.


    His body screamed, but he pushed forward.


    ----


    About an hour later and a few miles out, Levi stopped short, lungs wheezing like a busted bellows. His amber eyes caught the flicker of lights in the distance¡ªright where he¡¯d left those hounds in pieces.


    Spitting blood into the dirt, he wiped his mouth with a shaky hand.


    "They found ¡¯em. Took ¡¯em long enough."


    He turned back toward the endless dark, his legs feeling like they¡¯d been filled with lead.


    "Where the hell am I?"


    His voice barely held together, raw from the night¡¯s fight. His mind clawed at scraps of memory, searching for anything useful¡ªnames, places, a direction. But all he found was the same unyielding fog.


    ''No footprints. No road. No damn clue where I am.''


    Didn''t matter.


    ''Don''t matter how long. I''ll come back¡ªand he''ll wish he''d buried me.''


    Broken, bleeding, and filled with fire, Levi ran.

 Chapter 2: The Edge of Faith

    Chapter 2: The Edge of Faith


    The organ roared to life, its pipes trembling as steam hissed and sputtered from their joints. A nun with augmented hands played with eerie precision, each note hammering through the cavernous mission.


    The congregation shifted uneasily in the pews, their faces pale and glistening with sweat.


    A mother clutched her crying child tightly, whispering hurried prayers into her hair. A young man in the front row sat rigid, his wide eyes locked on the pulpit as his hands twisted. Toward the back, an older man slumped forward, his body limp from the overwhelming heat, as a neighbor fanned him weakly.


    Dr. Ashbourne ascended to the pulpit, his black coat swaying like a shadow. He gripped the edges of the lectern, his gaunt face taut with fervor as his mechanical eye swept over the congregation.


    "My children, do you feel it?... The heat clawing at your skin? The weight pressing on your chest? That is the breath of God Himself, reminding us of His holy vapor. The vapor that purifies. The vapor that burns clean the sins of man."


    He paused, the hiss of the pipes filling the silence like a serpent¡¯s whisper.


    "This is no ordinary room. No, my brothers and sisters¡ªthis is the crucible of faith! Here, in the heat of His divine forge, He tests us. Shapes us. Do you feel the holy fire within you?!"


    The congregation stirred, their murmurs of desperate faith followed by the faint sobbing of a child. Ashbourne¡¯s voice rose, cutting through the noise.


    "Do not flinch from it! The faithful endure! The faithful rise! For it is through suffering that we ascend!"


    He began to pace, his words quickening, his tone both poetic and biting.


    "Once, we were scattered like dust, groveling in the dirt¡ªmere flesh and bone, ruled by chaos and ignorance. But the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, blessed us with Vaporguard. Through steam and steel, we were lifted from squalor and forged into His chosen people!"


    He stopped, his eye zooming in on a trembling young man in the front row. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.


    "But we were not without enemies. The pagans, the heretics, the unbelievers¡ªthey refused His grace. They wielded their sins... their tools of chaos and rebellion. Defying the sanctified might of Vaporguard!"


    Ashbourne slammed his fist on the lectern.


    "And what did their blasphemous powder achieve?! NOTHING! Their wicked iron shattered before the righteous power of steam and steel!"


    The organ swelled behind him, the music pounding like a war drum. He leaned forward, his skeletal fingers trembling.


    "Firearms¡ªthose crude, godless tools¡ªare the devil¡¯s work! To wield such chaos is to spit in the face of the Creator!"


    Suddenly, his voice softened, his tone almost mournful.


    "And yet, the war is not over. Even now... in the year of our Lord, 1822. Even now! We remain defiled by heretics. Native heathens. Clinging to their false gods, their vile Earthsong magic, their defiance of His divine order. Do not be fooled! For they are not victims; they are rebels¡ªenemies of the Almighty. And like Joshua before the walls of Jericho, it is our sacred duty to drive them out and claim this land in His name!"


    He raised a hand, gesturing to the steaming pipes above them.


    "Do you hear it? The hiss of His breath? That is His call to arms! This is not conquest¡ªit is salvation! The west must be cleansed, its false magics silenced, its people brought to heel. This is His will. This is our mission!"


    The congregation sat frozen, sweat dripping from their brows. Ashbourne¡¯s mechanical eye whirred as he surveyed them, his lips curling into a thin, predatory smile.


    "But do not think yourselves safe from judgment. There are whispers among you. Whispers of doubt. Of weakness. To falter now is to betray Him. To show mercy to the heretic is to invite His wrath upon us all."


    He gestured toward the towering icon of the Virgin Maria Machina at the back of the room¡ªa gilded figure of a woman, half-human and half-machine, her outstretched hands cradling gears and a faintly glowing sphere of steam, the Pneuma Core.


    "Yet there is hope. Through the grace of the Virgin Maria Machina, your sins can be forgiven. Come forward now, my children. Confess your doubts, your fears, your failures. Let the breath of Christ purge your soul, and let the Virgin guide your hands toward righteousness."


    The organ thundered once more as the congregation began to rise. Ashbourne extended his arms over them, his voice booming above the noise.


    "Come, my children. Relinquish your burdens. Confess your sins. And march onward in His name!"


    The pipes groaned, releasing a fresh blast of scalding steam as the penitents formed a line, their faces streaked with sweat and fear. Ashbourne¡¯s grin widened as he watched them approach, his final words echoing through the suffocating air.


    "For the Lord¡¯s work is never done!"


    ----


    The final chords of the organ faded in to a hiss, leaving behind an uneasy silence. From the balcony, Ingrid watched the last penitents shuffle out, her sharp eyes narrowing in disdain.


    "False believers. They fear what they should embrace."


    "Even faith born from fear is still faith, my child."


    Emerging from the shadows of the confessional booth, Dr. Ashbourne brushed invisible dust from his robes. He paused, his lips curling into the faintest smile.


    "Not all are capable of venerating the Lord with the same... fervor, as you. Faith is a fragile bloom; but it takes root even in the soil of terror."


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    His mechanical eye, glowing faintly green, flickered to a sharper red as it locked on her.


    "Tell me, Ingrid¡ªhave you come to unburden your sins?"


    Her spine stiffened, a bead of sweat forming at her temple.


    ''He¡¯s mad.''


    Swallowing hard, she straightened and began her descent down the narrow stairwell.


    Once before him, she didn''t hesitate before lowering herself to one knee, bowing her head.


    "Your grace, I have sinned. Subject 231 has escaped. His exact whereabouts remain unknown, we lost his trail in the desert¡ªapproximately twenty miles into native territory."


    Her head dipped lower, her tone taking on a strange edge of longing as she continued.


    "Punish me as you see fit."


    Dr. Ashbourne placed a skeletal hand on her head, the cool touch of his metallic fingers sending a shiver down her spine.


    "Your devotion to the pleasures of the flesh blinds you, my child. If absolution is what you seek, then there is but one path to redemption."


    His grip on her head tightened ever so slightly as his gaze bore into her.


    "Reclaim my prototype. I will not allow my chance at perfection to wander in the desert like a common beast."


    Ingrid lifted her head slowly, her eyes shining with a mix of reverence and pleasure as they locked onto Dr. Ashbourne¡¯s gaunt face. The faint glow of his mechanical eye reflected in hers, and a trembling smile touched her lips.


    "It will be done, Herr Doctor. The boy will not escape me. I have already set a bounty on his head¡ªhe will be found, dead or alive. This I swear, in service to you and to the will of the Lord."


    Dr. Ashbourne said nothing, his skeletal fingers lingering for a moment before he turned away, his robes trailing behind him.


    Ingrid remained kneeling, her hand tightening around her braid as she stared after him, her smile growing wider.


    The hunt had already begun.


    ----


    The sun dipped low over the Red River Frontier, casting long, golden streaks across the endless expanse of New Britain. This wild, untamed land was the Empire¡¯s great gamble, a place where faith and industry marched side by side to tame what lay beyond the edge of the map.


    Back east, across the ocean, the British Empire reigned supreme. From the high-tech streets of London to the far-flung reaches of China, the world bowed under its banner, vapor and steel binding every corner in an iron grip.


    But the Old World wasn¡¯t enough. Greed and ambition inevitably drove the Empire westward, to lands untouched by its sanctified tech and unbowed by its faith.


    New Britain was more than a colony¡ªit was a promise, a place to carve out God¡¯s will with Vaporguard doctrine and unrelenting grit.


    Eight territories stretched wide, each with their own character and purpose. From the sprawling plantations of St. Edmund¡¯s Hold to the misty, coal-choked peaks of the Smoky Hills, settlers scraped out a living against unforgiving terrain and the ever-present shadow of pagan natives.


    And at the furthest reaches? The lawless edges of the primal frontier? Laid the Red River, a jagged scar cutting through arid plains and red-baked mesas.


    This was where the map blurred, where control ended, and survival truly began.


    The Red River Frontier was no place for the faint of heart¡ªit was a proving ground for ranchers, traders, bounty hunters, and soldiers alike. Every breath carried dust, every mile was hard-fought, and every step was shadowed by death.


    Smack in the middle of this harsh land was Denton, a city as mean as the desert sun and as stubborn as the prairie winds. Built along the west bank of the Red River, Denton served as the last stop for cattle drives heading north to Fort Redstone, and the first for anyone foolish enough to head further west into native-controlled lands.


    Denton wasn¡¯t much to look at¡ªdusty streets lined with weather-beaten buildings, the cathedrals spire rising high like a finger pointing to heaven. The Red River Saloon stood at the heart of it all, its raucous noise spilling into the street, while the stockyards on the outskirts rang with the clatter of hooves and the shouts of cowboys herding restless cattle.


    The Cathedral of St. Ignatius towered over it all, its bell tolling at dawn and dusk, reminding folks of their faith¡ªor the price of forgetting it.


    Yet even amidst the grit and lawlessness of the frontier, some horrors were too much for the Empire to stomach. In the shadows of the west¡¯s unchecked chaos, rogue scientists known as Stitchers, had turned the frontier into their playground, conducting unsanctioned experiments far from the prying eyes of the Church.


    Using natives, the poor, and the desperate, these scientists ignored the moral bounds of Vaporguard technology. The results were often grotesque. For every augmentation that worked, a dozen left their victims shattered in body or mind.


    Some were reduced to little more than hollow shells, their broken bodies forgotten in shallow graves. Others, warped by the pain and the strain of their enhancements, turned violent. These were the ones the New World feared most¡ªthe ones called Wasters.


    The Wasters were hunted like rabid animals, their very existence a blight on the sanctity of the church. To them, they were a grim reminder, a shame against their holy empire, and to settlers, they were monsters lurking in the night. For the Wasters themselves, there was no redemption¡ªonly survival or death.


    Life in Denton was rough enough, but the fear of these tragic folk added another layer to the town¡¯s tension. People whispered about sightings in the wilderness, about drifters with glowing eyes or twisted limbs. No one wanted to believe the stories, but no one could afford to ignore them, either.


    On the edge of town, away from the saloons and stockyards, stood a weathered building that many passed without a second glance. It served as an orphanage for the unwanted and forgotten, but its keepers were far from ordinary.


    The man in charge and his closest friend were not only caretakers¡ªthey were bounty hunters, seasoned veterans of the frontier.


    Inside, the two men sat at a small, rickety table, the room lit by a single flickering lamp. Between them lay a fresh bounty notice, its edges curling in the heat.


    "Ever had one of them days? Where your luck¡¯s so bad, it¡¯s rainin¡¯ pussy an'' you still end up gettin¡¯ a damn pecker?"


    A bald man leaned back in his chair, dragging a greased cloth across his Vaporguard arm.


    "Well Edmond, we¡¯ve been stuck in one of them stretches for a while now. How long you reckon them kids gotta choke down that slop before you pick somethin''?"


    Across the table from the bald man, Edmond sat with his elbows planted. His head was buried in his hands like he was trying to push the weariness out.


    "Just say it, Rufus."


    Leaning forward, Rufus¡¯s chair creaked as his energy shifted. His one good eye lit up, the other hidden under the black patch strapped across his bald head. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he wiped his black goatee with the back of his hand and held up a wrinkled poster.


    "Oh, you¡¯re gonna like this one."


    Edmond lifted his head slow and deliberate, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his worn coat. His silver-gray hair and the scar on his cheek gave his weathered face a hard edge, the kind earned through years of fighting. Hazel eyes, sharp but tired, flicked from Rufus to the bounty notice.


    With a steady hand, he reached for the poster, like a man who¡¯d seen trouble plenty of times before and knew it was coming again.


    "He¡¯s just a kid. You know we don¡¯t take bounties on kids."


    "Hold your britches and look again."


    Rufus tapped a finger on the paper.


    "That boy ain¡¯t no child. And leavin¡¯ a Waster to wander¡¯s like leavin¡¯ a fox in the henhouse. ¡¯Sides, the bounty¡¯s worth twice as much if we bring him in without a scratch, so we take him nice and easy."


    "Nice and easy..."


    Edmond glanced back at the poster. His brows lifted as he read the list of offenses.


    "Theft and murder."


    His gaze shifted to the open door, where the dry yard stretched out, filled with the sound of children playing.


    Sensing his advantage, Rufus leaned in.


    "Clearwater ain¡¯t but half a day¡¯s trip by foot. C¡¯mon, Edmond, let¡¯s make some silver and keep these kids fed another winter."


    He wasn¡¯t wrong, and Edmond knew it.


    Bounties this straightforward didn¡¯t come around often, and with a lead straight from the sheriff''s office, arguing seemed pointless.


    Still, something about it gnawed at him.


    "Tell Carter we¡¯ll take it."


    He agreed at last, pushing back his chair and standing.


    "But we eat breakfast first."


    Starting toward the kitchen, the floorboards groaned under his steps.


    "¡¯Bout damn time!"


    Rufus grabbed the bounty and leapt from his seat, heading for the door.


    "Hey, pipsqueaks! Get to clappin¡¯¡ªHe said yes! No more slop!"


    As cheers erupted from outside, Edmond shook his head and turned back to the stove. His shoulders were tense, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t focus on the food.


    ''Wasters... They¡¯re getting younger.''

 Chapter 3: At it Again

    Chapter 3: At it Again


    Once he''d finished cooking, he rang the bell, and soon the kitchen buzzed with the scrape of spoons and the soft grumbles of children picking at their oatmeal.


    Noticing their sour moods, Edmond moved quietly, retrieving a small hidden bottle of syrup from the pantry and setting it on the table. The complaints instantly faded, replaced by the contented silence of mouths full of sweetened oats.


    Rufus returned, brushing off dust as his eyes landed on the empty bottle. With a huff and a sour face, he sat down, muttering under his breath as he filled his bowl.


    When breakfast ended, the children grabbed their books and slates, filing out toward the schoolhouse. Edmond stood in the doorway, watching their small figures disappear down the dusty path before turning back to the quiet house.


    "How¡¯s Carter?"


    "Ornery as ever."


    Rufus slung a packed bag over his shoulder with a grunt.


    "Old coot sends his thanks. Says Fort Redstone¡¯s breathin¡¯ down his neck to get this wrapped up."


    He paused, eyeing Edmond.


    "How long you need?"


    "Be right out."


    Edmond¡¯s voice came low and steady as he walked to his room, shutting the door behind him without another word.


    Rufus shook his head, spitting into the dust.


    "Gonna have to play this one gentle. Here¡¯s hopin¡¯ that kid''s got a deep voice."


    Inside, Edmond stood quietly in front of an old wooden chest, his eyes fixed hard on the latch.


    "Nice and easy."


    His hand hovered a moment before easing the lid open.


    Folded inside was a soldier¡¯s uniform, the British red and white standing out against the worn and dusty room. He stared at it for a long moment, his expression set like stone, before picking it up and setting it aside.


    Beneath it, two sabers rested in their scabbards, their leather dulled and cracked.


    His hand lingered over them, fingers brushing the worn grip. The room stayed quiet, save for the faint shuffle of Rufus¡¯s boots leaving the porch.


    Edmond let out a slow breath, his shoulders stiff as he finally wrapped his hand around the hilt.


    Outside, Rufus stood rubbing his bald head, his face twisted in irritation as his one eye squinted at the sun. The sharp braying of a mule clawed at his already worn patience.


    "I said quit hollerin¡¯! You ain¡¯t comin¡¯, so knock it off, ya stubborn ass!"


    Behind a rickety fence, a black donkey with a white snout stomped and scraped, its ears pinned back as it kicked. The racket echoed across the yard, making Rufus¡¯s eye twitch.


    "Leave him be."


    Edmond stepped onto the porch, his hat pulled low to shade his weathered face. He let out a sharp whistle, his tone firm but calm.


    "Not this time, Diego."


    The mule paused, its ears swiveling toward his voice. With a begrudging snort, it turned back to its hay, but not before letting out one final bray directed at Rufus, as if to have the last word.


    "Jackass."


    Rufus spit into the dust as he fished a cigarette from a tin in his vest. With practiced ease, he slid it between his lips, but his metal fingers sparked uselessly when he snapped for a light.


    "I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ya, that animal¡¯s got nothin¡¯ but hate in its guts. If we ever get tired of huntin¡¯ men, could always scrap that little bastard for parts."


    He snapped his fingers again, his frown deepening when the sparks failed.


    "Out again dammit. Spare a light?"


    Edmond stepped up. With a snap, a small flame sparked to life, lighting Rufus¡¯s smoke.


    "Not his fault he hates you. It''s too easy."


    Rufus scowled, smoke curling from the corner of his mouth. He went to retort, but shook his head instead.


    "Hell, you ain''t wrong. Blame my pa. Man had the devil in him."


    He hefted his bag over his shoulder and followed Edmond down the path.


    Iron Haven Orphanage sat at the northern edge of Denton, perched at the end of a dusty, sunbaked road called Orphan¡¯s Bend. The building itself was a patchwork of repairs, its weathered boards and mismatched shingles speaking to years of hard use. The two men left it behind as they made their way south toward Market Square.


    The heart of Denton stood ahead, its streets bustling with traders, ranchers, and travelers moving through the ever-present fog of dust. The square buzzed with the shouts of merchants and the hum of deals being struck, a relentless energy that made it the cities lifeblood¡ªthough not a single soul would call it welcoming.


    As Edmond and Rufus pushed deeper into the commotion, the clatter of carts and hushed conversations surrounded them, yet most folks kept their eyes low, their greetings sparse. Only a few nodded or offered acknowledgments. Rufus, ever attuned to the chill in the air, didn¡¯t let the cold reception pass.


    "Love thy brother? Only when it suits ¡¯em. We¡¯ve been here longer than half these folks, and I¡¯m raisin¡¯ kids, for God¡¯s sake!"


    "Mind your mouth and let it go. Besides. We got a stop to make¡ªno sense getting riled up already."


    Edmond tipped his hat toward a pair of nuns walking briskly toward the Cathedral. Rufus quickly stepped aside to let them pass, sweeping off his hat with a theatrical bow.


    "Pardon me, ladies."


    The older nun barely spared him a glance, her expression sour as she snapped.


    "Perhaps if you spent more time with the Lord, Mr. Gunn, and less time at the brothels, you¡¯d find some redemption. Come along."


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    She turned sharply, motioning for the younger nun to follow.


    Edmond let out a low chuckle as he waited for Rufus to catch up.


    "See? Too easy."


    "I reckon she¡¯s sweet on me."


    Avoiding the crowd, the pair made their way further, eventually stopping in front of a building with a large, weather-worn sign that read The Gilded Spur.


    As the town¡¯s general store, it was a bustling hub of activity, especially come morning. Folks milled in and out, arms loaded with supplies or just stopping by for a bit of gossip.


    Rufus paused at the entrance, letting out a low whistle as he took in the crowd inside.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait out here. Grab me a can of earl while you¡¯re at it.¡±


    He stepped back, dropped his bag at the base of a post, and leaned against it, crossing his arms as he settled in to watch the street.


    Edmond let out a sigh, leaving him and pushing through the door. The din of voices and the faint scent of dried goods and leather hit him all at once, drowning out the noise from outside.


    The shop was alive with customers, shuffling through aisles and chatting in low tones, while a man with a large mustache worked the counter.


    Making his way toward the front, folks made room quick enough, stepping aside when they caught sight of him. Once he reached the counter, he leaned a little and called out over the noise.


    ¡°Elias! Hey, Griggs! My order ready?¡±


    Elias Griggs was behind the counter, his long fingers workin'' over a ledger like he was picking out a tune. Tall and wiry, he had the kind of face that made folks underestimate him, but there wasn¡¯t a single detail in his shop that escaped those sharp eyes of his, magnified by a pair of Vaporguard spectacles.


    When Edmond stepped up, Griggs looked up without so much as a flinch, his movements smooth as an oiled hinge. Griggs had seen his share of men like Edmond¡ªfaces carved by grit and wear, shoulders carrying more weight than the packs they hauled¡ªbut he never pried.


    He traded in trust as much as goods, and that¡¯s what made the Gilded Spur more than just a store in these parts. It was a cornerstone, steady as the man running it.


    "Lieutenant Thatcher. I already sent word three days ago that it was, indeed, ready. A moment."


    Edmond caught the tone but let it roll off. He¡¯d asked a stupid question, fair enough. Still, he wasn¡¯t about to let the man get too comfortable.


    "Drop the Lieutenant. Won¡¯t say it again."


    Returning a moment later with a small box, Griggs set it down gently on the counter.


    "Of course, my apologies. Now, I do have to mention¡ªmy sources for these are getting scarce. After today, the cost, unfortunately, will be double."


    "Same time next month."


    Edmond grabbed the box without hesitation, nodding toward the shelf behind the counter.


    "Can of Dapper."


    "Certainly, Mr. Thatcher."


    Outside, Rufus was leaned against the post, his head craned as his eyes trailed after a passing skirt. When Edmond stepped out, his shadow cut across Rufus¡¯s view.


    "Quit foolin¡¯ and let¡¯s go."


    "My earl?"


    Without breaking stride, Edmond tossed him the can of Dapper.


    Rufus snatched it mid-air with ease, grinning as he shouldered his bag.


    "What¡¯s got yer britches in a twist?"


    Edmond didn¡¯t answer, his pace steady as he moved down the dusty street.


    Rufus chuckled, popping the lid on the oil can with a faint hiss.


    "Man never was a mornin¡¯ person."


    Extending his augmented arm, a section of it expanded with a soft whir of gears and a puff of vapor. He poured the oil into the mechanism, the faint smell of grease wafting into the air. He tossed the empty can aside as the section snapped back into place.


    "Next time a fat bounty crosses our way, let¡¯s snag it. Saw this new model that lights wit'' somethin'' called e-lek-tric-ty. My girls¡¯d sure appreciate me not smellin'' like a damn tin of earl all night."


    As Rufus gabbed, and Edmond did his best to ignore him, the pair walked on. The streets grew quieter as they moved north, heading toward the bridge that crossed the river on Denton¡¯s northeast side.


    A ferry might¡¯ve saved them the detour, but with money tighter than Rufus¡¯s hatband, they knew better than to waste a single coin.


    After a few hours on the road, Rufus pulled off his hat, swiping a sleeve across his brow as he squinted at the high noon sun.


    "Seems a strange place for a Waster to hole up. Ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ out here but farmland. Reckon'' he''s got kin?"


    "Doubt it."


    Edmond took a measured swig from his canteen. He sloshed the water in his mouth before spitting into the dirt.


    "Wasters don¡¯t usually appear close to home. Those crackpot Stitchers know better than to shit where they sleep."


    Rufus frowned, his eyes narrowing as he kicked a rock down the road.


    "Here¡¯s a thought¡ªwhy¡¯s there never a bounty for the stitchmen? Seems like they oughta be first on the list, seein'' as they¡¯re the ones churnin¡¯ out the problem."


    Edmond¡¯s gaze shifted to a desert dragon skitterin'' across the dirt, its small, scaly body darting for cover.


    "Hard to fear what isn''t right in front of you."


    Snatching up a pebble, Rufus took aim and flicked it hard. The stone flew true, cracking the lizard on the head and dropping it cold. He ambled over, snatched it up, and stuffed it into his bag without a second thought.


    "Don¡¯t sit right. If you ask me, it¡¯s the damn ch¡ª"


    "Didn''t ask."


    Edmond motioned for him to quiet, his eyes catching movement in the distance.


    "One of these days Rufus, that mouth''s gonna get you killed."


    A wagon creaked toward them, the farmer at the reins tipping his hat in passing. Edmond returned the gesture, his face unreadable.


    Rufus stepped aside, tipping his own hat grudgingly before turning back to the horizon. He squinted against the sun as it glinted off metal in the distance.


    Far across the fields of corn and barley, a mechanized harvester rolled through the crops, its gears groaning in a steady rhythm.


    The hulking Vaporguard machine chewed through the rows with ease, steam hissing from its sides as a lone farmer guided it from above. It was a sight as common as the dust, but the crosses and symbols covering it always drew Rufus¡¯s eye.


    "Church sure loves makin¡¯ folks remember who¡¯s keepin¡¯ their bellies full."


    The harvester was a symbol of the church of the Vaporguard, a marvel of engineering that had kept the Empire free from famine for centuries. But to Rufus, it felt more like a quiet reminder of who was pulling the strings.


    "What you think he''s doin¡¯ out there? Carter says he¡¯s been spotted off and on for a week now. Don¡¯t seem like he¡¯s makin¡¯ much effort to keep movin¡¯."


    Edmond was already worried about this. It wasn''t normal, and it was beginning to make him impatient.


    "Doesn¡¯t matter. Just need to find him before trouble does."


    Rufus grinned as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, brushing dust from his arm


    "And here I thought we were the trouble."


    After a few more hours on foot, the path eventually dipped toward Clearwater Creek, a quiet settlement tucked about eleven miles northeast of Denton. Nestled near a bend in the Red River, the community sprawled across rolling plains, its fertile soil fed by a freshwater spring.


    The spring¡¯s cool waters brought a hint of relief to the otherwise harsh frontier, and the settlement was a patchwork of modest farms and fishing docks, all radiating out from the central feature¡ªthe spring itself.


    Clearwater wasn¡¯t large, maybe 200 folks, mostly farmers and fishermen scratching out a living. The place had an air of calm resilience, but it wasn¡¯t immune to the troubles of the frontier.


    Tensions with natives over the ''sacred spring'' lingered, and its isolation made it an easy mark for bandits. Still, the people here were tough, sticking together and leaning on each other for survival.


    As the sun beat down, Edmond cast a glance toward the settlement, his face impassive.


    "He¡¯s probably wounded. Could be luck, or maybe this one¡¯s got some brains left."


    "What¡¯re you drivin¡¯ at?"


    "No sheriff. No church keeping watch. Just enough people to patch yourself up, not enough that you can''t avoid them. If I was hurt and desperate? I''d be here."


    As they crested a small rise, Clearwater Creek came into full view. The spring shined in the midday sun, its clear waters pooling into a wide stone basin before feeding into the Red River.


    Rufus wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his gaze sweeping over the settlement.


    "Place don¡¯t look like the type to take kindly to bounty hunters. Hell, I doubt they¡¯d take kindly to strangers at all."


    Edmond didn¡¯t answer right away, his eyes lingering on the calm waters.


    "They don''t have to. We aren''t here to make friends."


    The two men started down the slope, the faint buzz of the settlement growing louder as they approached. They decided to hit the creek just as the sun was laying down its full weight.


    Edmond dropped his bag by the water¡¯s edge, crouching low to scoop a handful over his face. The relief hit quick, though this bounty still clung to him like an unwelcome guest.


    Rufus wasn¡¯t far behind, dunking his bald head with a bit more flair, letting out a low groan as the water dripped down his neck.


    "Can¡¯t complain ¡¯bout this. Only decent thing ''bout this place."


    Edmond didn¡¯t answer, just stood there staring at the water like it might hold some kinda answer. After a moment, he straightened up, shaking the droplets from his hands.


    "Let¡¯s head in, see if anyone¡¯s caught wind."


    "Reckon we¡¯ll get more scowls than answers. Still, maybe they¡¯ve got somethin¡¯ worth drinkin¡¯."


    Edmond didn¡¯t bother responding, already heading toward the trail.


    Rufus hung back, staring at the waters like he was waiting for something. The spring was quiet, too quiet.


    He shook his head, adjusting his bag. Then he followed, boots crunching dry earth, the scent of dust and trouble thick in the air.

 Chapter 4: Fire in the Blood

    Chapter 4: Fire in the Blood


    The creek gurgled soft and steady, its whispers barely masking the sound of boots crunching on the dirt nearby. Levi lay half-buried in the muck, reeds tangled around him.


    His eyes narrowed as he spotted the two men up ahead near the water¡¯s edge. He couldn¡¯t hear what they were saying, but he didn¡¯t need to.


    The way they carried themselves¡ªthe easy confidence, the weight of their movements¡ªtold him they were trouble. The kind of trouble that came looking.


    He stayed low, letting the reeds do their job, his heart pounding harder than it should¡¯ve.


    ''Bald one looks dangerous.''


    Sweat trickled down, stinging his eyes, but he didn¡¯t dare move. When they finally turned and started heading toward the settlement, he let out a breath, though it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.


    He stayed still as stone, waiting. Waiting for the sun to drop, waiting for the fire in his side to die down. Neither seemed in much of a hurry. The weight of the day began to bear down on him, every sharp breath reminding him the pain hadn¡¯t eased¡ªnot since he¡¯d made his break.


    With a shaky hand, he reached for his poncho, the ragged thing stiff with dried blood and caked dirt. He lifted it slow, just enough to get a look.


    The smell hit him hard¡ªa sour, festering stench that turned his stomach. Infection. He turned his head quick, wiping his nose on his sleeve, fighting the bile rising in his throat. The poncho fell back into place, and he clenched his jaw so tight it felt like his teeth might crack.


    Letting his head drop back against the bank, he let out a breath that sounded more like a whimper. The cool mud pressed against his neck, but it didn¡¯t do much for the fever burning him up.


    His amber eyes drifted to the sky, glassy and unfocused, watching the sun hang stubborn in place. Damn thing didn¡¯t care he was suffering. Nothing out here did.


    Out in the frontier, worse always found a way.


    He shut his eyes, holding still as he could, breathing through the knives in his chest. The creek babbled on, unbothered, and the shadows stretched longer over the bank, like they had all the time in the world.


    ¡®This can¡¯t go on.''


    The thought felt hollow, like throwing a rock into a dry well.


    ----


    As the sun hung low, the last of its warmth slipping away, Levi still laid sprawled in the creekbed, his body shivering as the water lapped cold against him. Gritting his teeth, he turned over, but a sharp stab of pain tore through his ribs.


    He swallowed hard, fighting back a cough, but that just made it worse. The sickening pop of a suture stopped him cold.


    Instantly his strength gave out, and he hit the mud face-first, the damp chill soaking deeper into his bones.


    The world spun, and darkness swallowed him up.


    But it didn¡¯t hold him for long.


    Levi¡¯s head shot up, gasping, his lungs screaming. He rolled onto his back, clutching his side with a hand that trembled. His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breathe.


    "I can¡¯t keep this up."


    His sunken eyes flicked to the sky, now painted in bruised shades of twilight. Desperation tangled with the stubborn spark still burning inside him.


    He couldn¡¯t stay put.


    With a groan, he shoved himself upright, leaning heavy on his good arm as the world tilted. His body begged for rest, but his mind latched onto one thing¡ªit was nearly time.


    If he could just make it to the barn, there¡¯d be hay to lie in, something to eat, maybe even the meds he¡¯d been waiting on.


    For now, he had to move. Pain or no pain, the creekbed wasn¡¯t gonna save him.


    Over the past week, he''d been holed up in Creekwater, keeping outta sight from the townsfolk. When he first arrived, it¡¯d been in the dead of night, his body half-broke from days of trekking through the desert. He¡¯d found what looked like an abandoned barn, threw together a sorry excuse for a bed from some rotten hay, and passed out cold.


    Luck¡ªor somethin¡¯ close to it¡ªhad been on his side come morning.


    Instead of being run out or worse, he was found by a boy, no older than ten. The kid¡¯s face had lit up with fear when he spotted Levi sprawled in the corner, but that wide-eyed look shifted soon enough. The state Levi was in¡ªragged, bloody, and barely holding on¡ªseemed to stir something in the kid. Sympathy, maybe. Or just plain sense.


    Over the next few days, Levi kept to a tight routine. He spent daylight hours hiding out on the edges of town, slipping through the trees and keeping low in the creek. Then, as night fell, he¡¯d creep back to the barn, careful not to draw attention. The boy had promised to bring medicine, but it was taking longer than expected. Levi figured the kid was struggling to get the meds without stirring up trouble.


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    He¡¯d memorized the safest route through the fields, a path he¡¯d worn into his mind after days of sneaking around. Each step was deliberate, leading him to the back of the rickety old barn where he could slip inside unnoticed.


    He stifled a bitter laugh, his thoughts dragging him back to what felt like another lifetime.


    ''Scared of simple folk¡­ been a long while.''


    But fear wasn¡¯t the problem. He was too banged up, too weak. If anyone found him now, he¡¯d fight¡ªhe always would¡ªbut there was no pretending how that would end.


    A door creaked open just off to his left as he crept past a grain house. Instinct kicked in. He pressed himself flat against the shadowed wall, every muscle wound tight as his breath hitched and held.


    Two men stomped out, boots heavy, and one of them was bald.


    ''The pair from the creek.''


    Their movements were deliberate, their posture screaming experience.


    ''Bounty hunters, by the look of ¡¯em. Wonder why their here? Can''t have made the posters already.''


    The thought of his face plastered across the frontier towns made his chest tighten. He pushed the feeling down, burying it deep, as he tracked them with his eyes. They moved toward the opposite edge of town, their pace unhurried but purposeful.


    Levi stayed pinned, counting a few extra breaths after they were outta sight. He couldn¡¯t risk making noise too soon. He noted the direction they were headed, storing it in the back of his mind.


    The barn wasn¡¯t far now, but every step felt like dragging his body through fire and glass. The cold night air barely touched him¡ªhe burned from the inside out, the heat spreading like a wildfire he couldn¡¯t smother. But even that heat couldn¡¯t match the thunderstorm churning in his gut.


    Rage.


    It''s what kept him moving, the only thing that¡¯d kept him whole since then. He had to live. He had to go back. They needed to pay for what they¡¯d done¡ªa debt so steep it couldn¡¯t ever be squared.


    The strange sounds coming from his mangled body¡ªevery hiss, every clink¡ªwas a bitter drink he choked down with every step. Each metallic noise stabbed at his pride, stoked his fury, and sharpened his need for revenge.


    Stopping him in his steps, the sharp, bitter hallucination of sedatives flooded his mouth, dragging a memory to the surface like a hook caught deep.


    Clutching his head, it hit him¡ªa flash of screaming, his own voice raw and ragged.


    He was bound, ribs laid bare, flesh pulled back with cold metal clamps. Where his arm should¡¯ve been, there was only a bloodied stump capped by a grotesque metallic joint.


    As if sensing his thoughts, his left arm jerked, snapping him out of his haze with a fresh wave of pain, doubling him over.


    Gritting his teeth as the fit subsided, his vision cleared just enough to catch sight of it.


    Across a field scattered with rocks and scrub, the crooked two-story barn stood like a sinner¡¯s last refuge. Beat to hell and half-leaning into ruin, it was salvation to his bloodshot eyes.


    Crossing the field, he slowly approached it, leaning heavy against the door, he pressed his ear to the worn wood.


    Sure, the boy had helped, but trusting someone outright was about as smart as kissing a rattlesnake, and Levi wasn''t a fool.


    He stood there a moment, straining to hear anything off, anything that didn¡¯t sit right. Satisfied, he eased the door open slow, the hinges groaning just enough to set his nerves on edge, and slipped inside.


    ¡°Mister! My God, you look¡ª¡±


    ¡°Keep it down!¡±


    Grabbing the boy¡¯s shoulder, he winced as the movement sent a fresh jolt of agony through his stitches.


    ¡°Did ya get it?¡±


    The kid, a wiry thing with reddish-brown hair chopped into a rough bowl cut, nodded quick. Freckles dotted his sunburnt face, and he moved with a jittery energy, like a bird too small to sit still.


    ¡°Sure did.¡±


    His words spilled out fast as he helped Levi to a fresh patch of hay.


    ¡°Sorry it took so long. Had to sneak it outta Widow Munster¡¯s place. Paid my buddy Roger two coppers to open her hen house¡ªworked like a charm. She came runnin¡¯ out yellin¡¯ bloody murder¡ª"


    Levi cut him off with a tired, lopsided grin, his hand trembling as he held it out.


    ¡°Kid, you sure can talk. Hand it over, quick. Fever¡¯s startin¡¯ to cook me.¡±


    The boy¡¯s freckled face flushed, and he darted to a worn bag propped against the wall. Rooting around, he pulled out two small brown bottles and ran them over.


    ¡°Here ya go, mister. It¡¯s all I could grab. Hope it helps, cause ya look somethin'' awful.¡±


    Levi¡¯s fingers barely managed to close around the bottles, but the weight of them in his hand felt like pure gold. He nodded, the closest thing to thanks he could muster, before sinking further into the hay.


    He knew the boy had stuck his neck out to help him. Levi had seen firsthand what happens to folks caught tangling with Wasters. At best, they¡¯d be run outta town. At worst...


    But even that didn¡¯t weigh much on him. When it came down to it, he¡¯d do whatever needed doing to stay alive.


    "Good work, kid. Think this¡¯ll do just fine."


    His eyes lingered on the bottles, the words Morphine and Calomel near glowing like gospel.


    "You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a slug of water in that bag of yours, would ya?"


    The boy¡¯s face lit up, and he darted back to his bag, pulling out a fresh canteen.


    "Gotcha covered! Oh, and I brought some sausages my ma made fer'' breakfast. They¡¯re cold, but they¡¯re damn good. Ma makes the best sauges in all of¡ª"


    "Give me a sec''. Can¡¯t think straight with all that talkin''."


    He twisted the stopper off the Calomel bottle, shaking a handful of the blue pills into his palm.


    ''If this don''t work, this arm''ll get me before much longer.''


    Without hesitation, he tossed ''em back, chewing hard before gulping them down dry.


    "Wait¡ªyou ain¡¯t supposed to eat ''em all!"


    Levi waved him off, barely hearin'' the warning. He snatched the canteen, chuggin¡¯ the water in long, desperate swallows. The burn in his throat didn¡¯t care what he threw at it, but he ignored it, unscrewing the stopper on the morphine bottle with a sharp twist. He took a swig, then another, the bitter tang of morphine mixed with opium cutting through his fevered daze.


    "Mister? Mi¡ªer?... Mi¡ª?!"


    The boy¡¯s voice faded like a bad song left unfinished, the world around Levi blurrier than a mirage. The morphine hit hard and fast, sweeping through him like a wave that didn¡¯t care what it knocked down. For the first time in days, the fire in his ribs dimmed, and the ache in his bones vanished.


    Darkness wrapped around him, heavy and warm. He didn¡¯t mind it one bit. Only the sudden creak of the door behind the kid lingered before everything went black.


    ----


    Whap!


    "Damn skeeters!"


    Rufus cursed, rubbing the fresh welt on his neck as he edged closer to the creek.


    "Couldn¡¯t we¡¯ve done this earlier? Night fishin¡¯ ain¡¯t exactly my hobby."


    "Not my fault you kept us there. She told you no."


    "No¡¯s just a soft maybe if you ask me. A real no? That comes with a slap."


    Edmond shot him a withering glance.


    "Not taking lessons from a mut. Now shut it and¡ª"


    They froze, both men going rigid as their heads snapped toward the same direction. A scream tore through the night, sharp and distant, but unmistakable.


    "That ain¡¯t no coy dog."


    Edmond''s body moved first, faster than a racehorse, his boots tearing through the earth as he sprinted toward the sound.


    Behind him, Rufus¡¯s face lit with a wicked grin. The black patch over his eye retracted with a smooth click, revealing a glowing red Vaporguard eye.


    "Finally, time to get paid!"


    Steam hissed from the vents along his augments as he leapt clean over the creek, his landing sinking the dirt beneath him. He caught his balance with ease, his laughter rolling out loud and free as he barreled after Edmond.

 Chapter 5: Mad Gear

    Chapter 5: Mad Gear


    Earlier, as Edmond and Rufus were nearing the edge of town, back in the barn, the young boy helping Levi was shaking him desperately, his voice trembling with panic.


    "Mister! Aw, jeez, c¡¯mon, mister! If you die like this, I¡¯m gonna get skinned. Plea¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t fret, child. He isn''t ready to meet his maker just yet."


    The boy froze, his heart jolting like a startled rabbit. He spun around, stumbling back, his eyes wide with fear as he tried to scream.


    Before a sound could escape, a cold, iron grip clasped his throat, cutting the breath clean out of him.


    "Hush now, little lamb."


    The distorted voice purred, low and sharp, chilling him to his core.


    "There¡¯s no need to call your flock."


    The boy¡¯s eyes began to tear, taking in the stranger that stood there like something torn from a nightmare. His lungs began to burn as his gaze locked onto the stranger¡¯s face¡ªor what should¡¯ve been a face.


    A grotesque mask, fitted with hissing tubes and gears, covered most of the man¡¯s head. The mask seemed alive, the faint hiss of vapor escaping from vents on its sides like a dying breath.


    But it wasn¡¯t just the mask. His skin¡ªwhat little of it remained¡ªwas a patchwork of burn scars and exposed muscle, fused with jagged bits of metal that seemed to sprout from his flesh like weeds.


    The dim moonlight caught the edge of a serrated claw attached to the man¡¯s right arm, sparks dancing as the cruel blades clicked and flexed. His left arm wasn¡¯t much better, a monstrous contraption of pipes, gears, and a glowing coil that hummed like a demon straight outta hell.


    ''Waster!''


    The boy¡¯s mind exploded, a storm of panic and disbelief spinning wild. But his body couldn¡¯t keep up. His strength gave out, and he went limp, dangling like a broken puppet from the man¡¯s claw.


    Pulling the boy¡¯s face close, the grotesque mask hissed as the intruder inhaled.


    "Siiinnnnn."


    His crimson eyes burned brighter, glowing like the gates of hell before he flung the boy aside. His small body slammed into the barn wall with a sickening thud, then crumbled like a wet bag.


    "Lies!"


    The Waster bellowed, his voice ringing with fury.


    "Sinners and liars!"


    Steam jetted from the vents along his shoulders as he turned toward Levi, his head tilting like a predator studying its prey.


    "They need to be forced..."


    His voice dipped suddenly into a chilling whisper, heavy with bitter resolve.


    "Forced ''til they understand."


    He reached down, claw extended to seize his prize, but Levi moved first.


    With a desperate burst of energy, he rolled to his side, his good arm snapping up to drive his bowie knife deep into the gears of the man''s elbow.


    "Liar!"


    Levi¡¯s thumb slammed down on the switch in the hilt, triggering the burst of steam that screamed as it tore through metal and flesh. Steam and blood erupted from his elbow as Levi freed the knife, his boot came up, slamming into the Waster''s jaw and forcing him back.


    Rolling backwards to his feet with a stagger. Levi¡¯s body swayed, drenched in sweat, but his grip on the blade was stone.


    Shaking his head, he was trying to clear the fog that clung to his mind. Everything felt wrong, like the world had gone sideways, when a child¡¯s scream cut through the air, louder than a rattler¡¯s warning.


    His gaze snapped to the barn door. A wisp of a girl, younger than the boy, stood there rooted in place, her mouth open in a scream that wouldn¡¯t quit.


    She was shaking like a rabbit caught in a trap. He reckoned it must have been the boy¡¯s sister, though there wasn¡¯t time to dwell on it.


    The Waster turned, his bloodshot eyes zeroing in on the girl. Steam hissed from his mask as he cocked his head, the sound like the death rattle of some machine on its last legs.


    "So cometh the flock."


    He raised his clawed hand toward the child.


    "As shepherd, they will be guided to the slaughter."


    "Shit!"


    Levi¡¯s instincts moved faster than his thoughts.


    A burst of steam shot from the Waster¡¯s arm, his jagged claw tearing through the air like a runaway train.


    "Move!"


    Levi screamed, throwing himself forward with everything he had. His arm wrapped around the girl just as the Waster¡¯s claw skimmed past, the broken metal ripping across his back.


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    Pain hit like a hot iron, searing straight through him, but he didn¡¯t let go as the two of them tumbled to the dirt in a heap.


    The girl¡¯s screams turned shriller, mixing with shouts and hollering from the distance. It was like all the noise in the world was fighting to drown him. Levi grit his teeth, his head pounding.


    He slapped the girl, not hard, but just enough.


    "Run, you halfwit!"


    He shoved her behind him. As the sprite smartly took off, his body screamed for him to stay down, but he planted a knee firm in the dirt, pushing through the fresh fire in his back.


    His jaw tightened, and he spat through clenched teeth. Whatever strength he had left, it¡¯d have to be enough.


    Clink, clink, clink.


    The chunk of blacksteel dragged back toward the barn, a black chain pulling it through the dirt like dragging a tombstone. The Waster¡¯s voice rose, warped with rage and desperation.


    "Why''re you all like this?! Why''d you leave me?! Why run now?! Makes no damn sense!"


    KRRAAK!


    The barn door exploded like thunder, wood splintering into shards. The Waster stepped through, twisting his grotesque claw back into place. His mask glowed red, heat pouring from the vents like a pot ready to boil.


    Levi¡¯s gut churned, the sight setting his nerves on edge. The way the Waster moved, the way he spoke¡ªit wasn¡¯t natural. It was like looking at an animal that¡¯d gone rabid, dangerous in ways you couldn¡¯t predict. His words rambled and twisted, making about as much sense as a mule wearing Sunday shoes.


    Swallowing hard, his body screamed at him to give up, to lie down and let it end. He wasn¡¯t fooling himself¡ªhe was in bad shape, too far gone to be of any use in a fight.


    But he couldn¡¯t give up, not now.


    ''I need to end this! Do it quick. Only way is to let the mad bastard get close enough to risk it.''


    "Come get it then! No point waitin'' on proper!"


    Seeing the torches from town getting closer, he knew he was running outta time.


    "Crazy son of a bitch, light that furnace!"


    Both knives in hand, he did his best to make himself look easy to kill¡ªnot that it took much effort. He was already teetering.


    "Wicked lies!"


    The Waster roared, vapor burst from his joints, sparks spitting wildly from his elbow. He charged, a monster of fury and madness.


    ''One shot!''


    Levi¡¯s mind raced, forcing his body to steady. He scanned the Waster with frantic precision, his instincts kicking in like a sixth sense. His focus narrowed to find the weak point.


    ''The mask!''


    He tightened his grip, muscles coiled as the Waster closed the gap. Just as the Waster prepared to strike¡ª


    TING!


    A sudden bolt cracked through the air, ricocheting off his head.


    "Well, fuck! Stay still next time!"


    Rufus¡¯s voice echoed from the dark, his words dripping with frustration. A faint red glow of his eye danced in the distance as he cursed.


    Levi¡¯s stomach sank.


    Racing towards them, silhouetted against the red glow, an amber blur of Vaporguard closed the distance like an arrow loosed from hell. Edmond was coming.


    The Waster clutched his head, screaming into the night like a child betrayed.


    "Where were you?! Why are you here when you shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve left me?!"


    His voice cracked with pain, fury, and something hauntingly close to sorrow.


    "Well slap my ass Edmond! That''s Mad Gear!"


    His momentum stopped, Levi stumbled backward, his body betraying him as the last bit of the strength he''d held fizzled out. He could do nothing but watch as Mad Gear raised that twisted claw for another go.


    TWANG!


    Sparks erupted as Edmond suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his military saber grinding against Mad Gear''s arm.


    "Get back!"


    Edmond¡¯s command was clearly meant for him, but he could barely process what was happening. His body screamed in protest as he dragged himself away. Another¡ª TING! echoed, sparks bursting from second bolt to the Waster''s skull.


    "Stop movin''!"


    "Traitors!"


    Mad Gear roared, slamming his foot down like an enraged bull. The ground rocked, forcing Edmond to step back.


    With the newfound space, Mad Gear swung his massive claw, slamming it again. The impact sent chunks of earth and jagged stones flying.


    TING, TING, TING!


    Edmond swung his sabers in precise arcs, deflecting the incoming debris. Without hesitation, as soon as he deflected the last piece, he moved to close the distance.


    "Legs!"


    THUNK!


    A bolt immediately buried itself into Mad Gear''s thigh.


    "AHH!"


    Staggering as the pain forced him to shift his weight, Mad Gear let out a another roar, releasing a massive vent of steam straight into Edmond¡¯s face. The scalding vapor engulfed him, forcing him to stumble back, coughing and temporarily blinded.


    At the same time, Mad Gear¡¯s arm shot forward, gears grinding as his claw angled towards Edmond. Just as he was about to unleash whatever hell it held, a sharp THUNK! sounded¡ªanother bolt buried itself into the joint of his knee.


    Howling in pain, Mad Gear¡¯s leg buckled. His arm jerked violently back, the mechanism firing.


    And just In that moment, a figure stumbled into Levi''s view from inside the barn¡ªsmall, bloody, and wide-eyed.


    The boy.


    Levi¡¯s heart stopped. Edmond hadn¡¯t noticed, still blinded. The fist was coming, and it would crush the barn, and the boy with it.


    ''Hell.''


    Hating himself, Levi¡¯s augments flickered to life, faint amber veins glowing along his chest. He had to move.


    Digging into reserves he didn''t have, his scabs and stitches ripped fresh, Levi charged, legs pumping harder than they should¡¯ve been able. He slammed into the boy, wrapping him in a desperate tackle just as the fist came crashing down.


    The barn collapsed. A deafening roar of splintered wood and heavy beams burying them both.


    Dust hung heavy in the air, swirling thick as molasses, with faint amber and crimson glows breaking through. The screech of metal on wood tore through the wreckage as Mad Gear dragged his massive hand back with a bone-rattling CLANG.


    "Cowards! Fucking yellow bastards!"


    The Waster raged, his voice echoing like thunder.


    Rufus aimed his arm, steadying it on the glow of Mad Gear¡¯s vaporguard within the dust and steam. Just as he lined up the shot, the light disappeared.


    "What? Hey! Fucker''s makin¡¯ a break!"


    BOOM¡ªZZRRTT!


    The blast suddenly came outta nowhere, lighting up the dust cloud like a prairie fire. The sharp crackle of electricity tore through the air, bolts skipping and sparking in all directions.


    "AHH!"


    "Edmond!"


    Rufus hollered, rushin¡¯ forward. Sparks danced like devils over someone, crawling over what he could only guess to be his partner.


    He got to him quick, his crossbow arm sweeping the shadows as his free hand clamped down on Edmond¡¯s shoulder.


    "You good?!"


    Down on one knee, Edmond grit his teeth, his breath heavy. He spit blood to the side and gave a sharp nod.


    "Good."


    Pushing himself up, without a word, he shoved Rufus aside and bolted for the barn and started tossing wreckage like a man possessed.


    "Think we got other things¡ª"


    "Mad Gear''s gone!"


    Edmond snapped, his voice hard as iron.


    "Stop jawin¡¯ and help!"


    ----


    Beneath the rubble, Levi lay in the pitch-black, crushed under the weight of beams and busted planks. His breath came shallow as the faint glow of his augments flickered like dying embers. The light cast just enough to make out the boy¡¯s small, crumpled body against his own.


    His fingers, shaking somethin'' awful, reached out and pressed to the kid¡¯s ribs. For one long, gut-twisting moment, there was nothing. Then, faint as a whisper, the boy¡¯s chest rose.


    ''He¡¯s breathin''.''


    Relief hit him hard. His head fell back against the broken boards, and the glow of his augments dimmed with his strength.


    The last thing he saw before everything went dark, was the faint shimmer of that mocking amber light.

 Chapter 6: A Strange Peace

    Chapter 6: A Strange Peace


    The world was distant, muffled like he¡¯d been stuffed under a pile of thick blankets. Screams began to cut through, harsh and panicked, though they didn¡¯t belong to him. They came from voices he didn¡¯t recognize. Faint at first, then growing, like they were fighting to pull him up.


    ¡°Get them out! Hurry¡ªtheir still alive!¡±


    ¡°Careful, dammit! He¡¯ll be no use to us dead!¡±


    The noise was swallowed by a sharper sound, wood splintering and something heavy being heaved aside.


    The screams faded like a gust of wind blowing out a fire, leaving behind echoes of laughter¡ªbright, carefree. It didn¡¯t belong, not in this wreckage.


    Stunned, Levi suddenly saw himself, small and light on his feet, running fast as his legs could take him. His breath came easy, his bare feet kickin¡¯ up dust as he darted through a crooked alley.


    The sun was high, warm on his back, and the smell of fresh bread drifted from a baker¡¯s window. He could hear it behind him, the sound of more feet, more laughter, and he knew they were chasing him.


    ¡°Can¡¯t catch me!¡±


    He called over his shoulder, his voice younger, lighter, full of mischief.


    A chorus of laughs answered, all of them kids, his friends. There was Amos, the fastest next to him, always challenging him to races; Clara, the bossy one, shouting for him to slow down; and little Pete, struggling to keep up but laughing harder than any of them.


    He darted around a corner, feet slap-slappin¡¯ on the cobblestones, when the warmth suddenly went cold.


    The alley ahead wasn¡¯t empty anymore.


    A figure stepped out, crooked and shadowed, her silhouette stretching long in the sunlight. Sister Bertrice, the nun who ran the orphanage he grew up in. Her black habit hung heavy on her thin body, her bony hands clutching a ruler like it was a weapon forged in hell.


    ¡°Levi Wilson! You little sinner! Stop this instant, or you''ll go in the box!¡±


    He skidded to a stop, breath catching in his chest as the others piled into him, their giggles dying quick.


    The ruler came down fast, smacking across his face.


    CRACK!


    The hit jarred him from the dream, and pain flooded in like a dam breaking. His eyes flew open, and the bright blue of the sky hit him like a hammer.


    ¡°¡ª!¡±


    He tried to speak, but could only breath, his throat burned raw, like it had been scraped clean with a rusty spoon.


    He could only suffer in silence as the sun blazed brightly, too damn bright.


    His vision spun, the sky churning like it wanted to swallow him. He barely caught the edge of the cart he was in, its wooden planks rough under his hand, before the darkness dragged him under again.


    The fevered visions continued the moment it went dark, Levi now found himself standing in front of the orphanage he grew up in, and it was on fire. Flames danced and roared, licking hungrily at the windows like the devil¡¯s fingers. The heat kissed his face, but his boots might as well¡¯ve been nailed to the ground.


    All he could do was stare.


    Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and stinging, but his jaw was locked tight, rage boiling up inside him. The screams of his friends¡ªAmos, Clara, Pete¡ªcut through the roar of the fire, each one stabbing straight through him.


    Then it rose.


    A massive demon clawed its way up from the flames, steel and flesh twisted together in some hellish way, stretching higher than the burning roof. Its eyes burned red, deeper than blood, glowing like twin beacons of hate.


    In its hand, it clutched a golden cross, the light pouring off it so bright it felt like it was cutting right through him.


    ¡°I''LL KILL YOU!¡±


    He screamed, his voice trembling with fury, but the light swallowed him whole, hot and searing, blinder than the noonday sun.


    BOOM!


    An explosion ripped through the air, louder than thunder. It hit him hard, knocking the breath clean out of him. A scream followed¡ªa sound so raw and full of pain it made his heart feel like it was breaking.


    Bursting through a cloud of smoke and ash, Levi tore forward, running like a bat outta hell.


    The battlefield he found himself on stretched out endlessly, the air thick with shadows that twisted and lunged. His bowie knives like death in his hands, swinging and slashing through the dark like a man possessed. His breath came quick and sharp, each step pounding harder than the last.


    The shadows surged, claws and teeth slashing through the air. He moved like his life depended on it¡ª¡¯cause it did¡ªhis knives cutting through the smoky shapes, but they kept coming.


    His boots hit wet ground, the squelch of mud mixing with the clash of steel and the screams of the dying. Then, just like that, the ground changed.


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    The wet muck began to crunch.


    He looked down, his stomach twisting into knots at the sight of bones¡ªpiles and piles of them, stretching as far as he could see. Every step shattered skulls and ribs underfoot.


    Before he could move, bloody hands shot up from the bone pile, their bony fingers wrapping around his legs and yanking him down.


    ¡°Stop¡ª!¡±


    Levi thrashed, his knives flashing wild, but the hands just kept pulling, harder and harder.


    As he sank, a bright light seared through the darkness, hotter than a blacksmith¡¯s forge. Pain bloomed in his shoulder, sharp and unrelenting, like fire crawling through his body.


    His eyes sprang wide, panic surged as he now found himself strapped to a table, cold metal digging into his bare skin. His body was laid open, his chest flayed wide like the pages of a book. Heart beating like a jack rabbit. Above, the Doctor stood over him, his mechanical eye whirring as it telescoped closer, the green glow making Levi¡¯s soul dim.


    Then, the Doctor¡¯s face blurred, twisting and changing like heat waves. For a moment, it wasn¡¯t the Doctor at all.


    It was a woman¡ªa soft, beautiful face hovering above, her eyes filled with something tender, almost sorrowful.


    The vision flickered back to the Doctor¡¯s cruel grin, then shifted again. The woman¡¯s face returned, just for a blink. It happened over and over, each switch making Levi¡¯s mind spin worse than a busted wagon wheel. Pain ripped through him, white-hot and blazing, as he writhed against the restraints.


    Then the grotesque arm descended¡ªa massive thing of steel and gears, its needle gleaming like the fang of a serpent. He couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t fight.


    ¡°No, no, no!¡±


    His voice cracked, horror floodin¡¯ him as the needle stabbed deep into his chest. The hiss of sedatives filled his ears, cold and cruel, freezing him from the inside out.


    ¡°Bastard!¡±


    His curses cut through the void before the vision slipped away, swallowed whole by the black. The darkness came heavy, pulling him into a stillness so deep it didn¡¯t even leave room for dreams.


    ----


    Levi didn¡¯t stir as a red-haired nun stepped back from his unconscious body. Her face was pale but steady, her Vaporguard hands trembling just enough to show the weight of what she¡¯d done.


    The worn leather syringe kit beside her spoke of experience, her movements calm and practiced as she placed it away.


    Edmond stood over them both, his broad frame casting a long shadow over the cot as she wiped her hands on her apron, the lilt of her Irish accent cutting through the heavy air like a prayer.


    ¡°I cleaned his wounds and re-stitched what I could. That infection¡¯s a nasty one¡ªany longer, and he¡¯d be a goner. Surprised he could even stand, let alone move. The rest''ll be up to him and the Lord now.¡±


    Sitting back with a heavy sigh, the nun¡¯s eyes lingered on Levi¡¯s bandages, worry writ clear across her face.


    ¡°This poor child¡­ what did they do to ye?¡±


    Edmond shifted, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.


    ¡°Never seen scars like that on a kid. How long you think they had him?¡±


    "From the look of him, not long."


    Her brow furrowed as she studied Levi closer. Slowly, her eyes lifted to Edmond, serious-like.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure it said rehabilitation facility?¡±


    ¡°Take a look yourself.¡±


    Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out the folded bounty. The paper was creased and dirt-streaked as he handed it over.


    She shook the dust free and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the words. The more she read, the darker her expression turned.


    ¡°His augmentations are fresh. From the look of these wounds, he didn¡¯t give himself so much as a day to heal before makin¡¯ a run for it. And look at those scars¡­¡±


    ¡°What about ¡¯em?¡±


    ¡°Not a one of them¡¯s surgical. At best, they¡¯re makeshift. Looks to me like the lad stitched himself, likely more than once.¡±


    She folded the paper up quick, her movements sharp, then shot Edmond a look that could cut steel.


    ¡°Keep him hidden. Speak to no one about him¡ªnot a soul¡ª¡¯til I return.¡±


    She began gathering her things in a hurry. Edmond reached out, his large hand catching her arm.


    ¡°Hold on. What if he wakes?¡±


    She yanked her arm free with ease, already back to packing.


    ¡°There¡¯s things I need to look into, Mr. Gunn can handle the rest. I¡¯ll leave medicine for the lad.¡±


    She grabbed a couple of bottles, setting them down on the table beside Levi. Then, just as she was about to leave, she stopped at the door and turned back. Her eyes fixing on Edmond, stern as a judge.


    ¡°Remember¡ªnothing to no one.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am."


    Edmond replied with a small nod, his tone resigned. He knew better than to argue with this woman. As she reached for the door.


    ¡°And Moira¡­ thanks.¡±


    She glanced back, her face softening for just a moment.


    ¡°Sister will do, and you¡¯re welcome, Edmond.¡±


    With that, she stepped out, shut the door behind her, and her footsteps faded fast as she left the orphanage.


    Edmond stayed put, listening. He could hear her boots growing faint, but it wasn¡¯t long before another set started making their way closer¡ªheavier and far less graceful.


    Bursting through the door with all the grace of a buffalo, Edmond barely had to glance to know Rufus was already wound up tight. The creased brow, red ears, and those snapping fingers sparkin¡¯ like flint¡ªit was a storm ready to break.


    "Now I gotta act nursemaid for him?! Who said she gets to boss me around just ''cause she''s pretty?!"


    He jabbed a finger in Edmond¡¯s direction, pacing like a caged wolf.


    "Now, stop broodin¡¯ and remind me again why we¡¯re not turnin¡¯ in our bounty? Why the hell them kids are gonna be lookin¡¯ at us like liars when we tell ¡¯em it¡¯s beans again?!"


    "You saw it."


    Edmond replied, calm and steady as he picked up one of the medicine bottles and turned it over in his hands. His voice didn¡¯t rise, didn¡¯t waver.


    "Those folks woulda lost their children if it weren¡¯t for him."


    It had been a long day¡ªtoo damn long. The rush to get back to Denton with an injured kid in tow, began with decisions Edmond hadn¡¯t even thought twice on, but had drained every bit of energy he had left.


    "So he saved ¡¯em. Does that wipe the slate clean for the folks he killed? You read the bounty. Sure, we can tell ourselves he did somethin¡¯ good, but there ain¡¯t no reason to stick our necks out while keepin¡¯ our cupboards dry."


    Edmond didn¡¯t bite.


    "Watch him. I¡¯m gonna go talk to the kids."


    "Why¡¯s it always gotta be me watchin¡¯ ''em?!"


    Edmond moved to the door, his steps unhurried but final.


    "¡¯Cause I was never much good at doctorin¡¯."


    He didn¡¯t bother waitin¡¯ for Rufus¡¯s reply, just shut the door behind him with a soft click that said the conversation was over.


    "Always takin'' liberties! Not my fault I trained as a medic!"


    Rufus let out a string of curses under his breath, stompin¡¯ in a small circle like a bull about to charge. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he kicked a stool over, propped his boots on it, and slumped into the chair. Pulling a smoke from his jacket, he lit it with a sharp snap of his fingers, his one good eye pinned on Levi.


    "You better have a good fuckin'' story, boy. Or you¡¯re fucked worse than a jailbird walkin¡¯ on Sunday."


    The room settled quiet-like, the only sound the slow pull of Rufus¡¯s cigarette as smoke curled lazy through the air. It drifted over Levi¡¯s face, still as stone, his breath slow and even.


    The world outside Levi¡¯s unconscious state hung heavy, quiet as the grave. That cold, dark stillness pressed down on him, but it weren¡¯t the kind of weight that hurt. It was the kind that dulled the edges, smoothed over the cracks¡ªleft him numb and far from the pain that usually dogged him.


    Maybe it was pitiful, but there¡¯s a kind of peace in having nothing claw at ya¡ªno dreams, no danger, no weight of the world pressing on your shoulders.


    In that moment, with the fire in his chest snuffed out and no past or future to haunt him, Levi might¡¯ve been better off than he¡¯d been in years. As old-timers might say, sometimes the best you can hope for is a little quiet, even if it ain¡¯t the kind you can keep.

 Chapter 7: Between Strangers

    Chapter 7: Between Strangers


    It¡¯d been near a week since Levi last opened his eyes, but on this Friday morning, something finally shifted. Heavy and foggy at first, his mind crawled toward wakefulness, like dragging a body uphill.


    His eyes fluttered open, and a dry groan slipped out.


    "Uuuhhhh¡­"


    It was all he could manage.


    ''Water!''


    The thought slammed into him, shoving aside the urge to sink back under. Blinking slow, he reached up with his good arm, the second he moved, a fresh wave pounded his skull.


    "Yshshhhhh!"


    He sucked in air through gritted teeth, his body screaming in protest. His augmented arm shifted slightly, tight and awkward, the surgical scars still raw.


    Then, like a jolt, a realization hit.


    ''No restraints?''


    The thought stirred a flicker of confusion, but the gnawing thirst in his throat drowned it out quick. He turned his head, catching sight of a pitcher sitting close to the bed. Scooting toward it slow, his senses sharpened just enough for the sour tang of morphine to smack him square in the gut.


    ''Goddammit.''


    His stomach churned like a hog rolling in shit, and before he could stop it, he rolled over and dry-heaved, his body spasming hard.


    "He¡¯s awake! Hey everybody! He¡¯s pukin¡¯, but he¡¯s awake!"


    The voice of a child pierced through his heaving, followed by the sound of feet scamperin¡¯ off. Levi¡¯s heart kicked into high gear, pounding like a drum.


    ''What is this place?''


    Once the heaves finally stopped, he rolled back slow, grabbing the pitcher with shaky hands. He tilted it just enough to peek inside.


    ''Thank god.''


    He didn¡¯t think twice, drinking like a man dying of thirst. The relief was immediate, the cool liquid easing the raw burn in his throat like a godsend.


    For all of two seconds.


    His stomach twisted, rejecting the gift just as quick as it¡¯d been received. He barely had time to roll back before the water came right back up.


    "Son of a¡ª!"


    He cursed between coughs, his body shuddering from the effort.


    "You should slow down, son."


    A calm, steady voice drawled from somewhere close.


    "Drinking hard on an empty stomach isn''t smart."


    Levi¡¯s grip tightened as his breath quickened, then¡ªCRACK!¡ªthe porcelain pitcher shattered in his hands. Rolling back he held the broken handle out like a blade, his eyes wild.


    "Who are you, and where the hell am I?!"


    His voice was shaky, fighting against the dizziness threatenin¡¯ to pull him under.


    "Rufus isn''t gonna like that you busted his pitcher. Maybe you should think a second before you do something else dumb."


    ''He¡¯s the man who fought that Waster.''


    Levi winced, his free hand pressing hard against his pounding head. He forced his gaze around the room, taking stock. Open windows, a rickety door that looked like it couldn¡¯t hold up to a stiff breeze, and the distant sound of children playing outside.


    Still holding the broken handle firm.


    "Just answer my question. Where am I? And who the hell are you?"


    "That¡¯s two questions."


    Shaking his head as he pulled up a chair and sat, the man¡¯s movements were deliberate, easy.


    "Name¡¯s Edmond. Edmond Thatcher. You¡¯ve been here for over a week now."


    "A week?"


    Levi¡¯s jaw tightened, panic flickerin¡¯ across his face.


    ''Too long!''


    His grip on the broken porcelain loosened as he slowly lowered his hand. Feeling no bloodlust from the man, he decided he wasn¡¯t in immediate danger, so swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he braced himself to stand.


    "Where¡¯re my things? I need to get movin¡¯. Appreciate the kindness, but I can''t¡ª"


    Before he could finish, his knees buckled, and Edmond shot forward, steadying him with a firm grip.


    "You¡¯re in no shape to move. And you aren''t going anywhere till I hear your story, kid. Didn¡¯t save your ass for nothing."


    Levi cursed his wounds as he clenched his jaw, slapping Edmond¡¯s hand away and falling back to the bed. His face reddened, and his fists tightened as he fought through it.


    "That a threat?"


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    Edmond opened his mouth to reply, but another voice beat him to it.


    "Bet your Waster ass it is."


    Leaning against the doorway, Rufus stood there, arms crossed, a shit-eatin¡¯ grin plastered on his face.


    "How¡¯s the little patient doin¡¯? Didn¡¯t think about leavin¡¯ before showin¡¯ a little gratitude, did ya?"


    "Leave him be. And no. It isn''t a threat. But you do owe me. Hell, you owe us both. By all rights, there¡¯s a bounty on your head, kid. We¡¯ve chosen not to turn you in¡­ yet."


    His voice dipped on the last word, making sure it landed heavy.


    "And ¡®yet¡¯ is the part you¡¯d best hang on to."


    Levi¡¯s shoulders sagged as he weighed his options, his mood sour but too weak to muster much fight.


    "What happened to the kid? He make it?"


    Edmond¡¯s stern expression softened just a bit.


    "He did. Got a few bruises, but you did right by him."


    Rufus rolled his eye and lit a smoke, exhaling slow through his nose.


    "Before we start plannin¡¯ a damn parade, we got some questions. First off¡ªwhy in the hell was Mad Gear there?"


    "That Waster? No idea. Woke up to the crazy bastard."


    Levi¡¯s gaze flicked to the broken pitcher on the floor.


    "Sorry ''bout that. Wouldn¡¯t be too much to ask for some more water, would it? Feels like the devil pissed down my throat."


    "My pitcher?! You ungrateful¡ªborrowed that from Miss May! Now I gotta¡ª"


    He bent to gather the pieces, his muttering growing louder as he shot a glare at Levi.


    "What the hell, Edmond?! He ain¡¯t got no money, I checked, and we ain¡¯t exactly rollin¡¯ in it ourselves!"


    Edmond raised a hand, cutting Rufus off mid-rant.


    "I¡¯ll see Miss May gets a new one. Now go cool down and grab us some drinks, tell Kati-bird to get some rooster broth going."


    Rufus opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it, muttering curses under his breath as he straightened up. He shot one last glare Levi¡¯s way before storming out, his boots hitting the floor heavy enough to rattle the windows.


    "Sorry about him. He¡¯s an angry bastard, but he¡¯s a good friend. You, on the other¡ªyou a friend? Or something else?"


    Levi brow tightened as he caught the meaning to Edmond¡¯s words. There was no mistaking the kind of man sitting across from him¡ªa man who¡¯d seen more than his share of hell and lived to tell it. Levi had met his kind before. Men who could chew through steel and spit nails.


    "Can¡¯t say I¡¯m anyone¡¯s friend. But if you¡¯re askin¡¯ whether I¡¯m a danger... as long as it don¡¯t come lookin¡¯, I''ve never been trouble for anyone who didn¡¯t go askin¡¯ for it."


    Edmond studied Levi¡¯s response, his eyes steady as it moved from the kid¡¯s, to the scars carved across his face and body.


    ¡°Something tells me trouble finds you often.¡±


    Levi¡¯s hand clenched tight around the sheet, his amber eyes locked on Edmond¡¯s, refusing to flinch.


    ¡®Kid¡¯s like a wounded street dog. Pitiful, but damn dangerous.¡¯


    Edmond leaned back, lacing his metallic fingers together, his face unreadable.


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait on that drink before getting to your story.¡±


    Levi¡¯s eyes flicked briefly over Edmond¡¯s body, taking in the glint of metal.


    ''Both arms. Both legs.''


    The posture told him the spine might be touched too, maybe the neck. These weren¡¯t cheap upgrades¡ªmilitary-grade enhancements, high-end stuff, even if they weren¡¯t the newest models.


    ¡°How long?¡±


    Edmond didn¡¯t answer, his expression darkening for just a flicker before it settled again, calm and unmoving.


    ¡°I¡¯m askin¡¯ how long ya served."


    ¡°We¡¯ll ask the questions.¡±


    The door creaked open as Rufus sauntered in, a leather water bladder in one hand and a bottle in the other. He tossed the bladder onto Levi¡¯s cot without ceremony, then dropped into a chair next to Edmond, handing him the bottle.


    ¡°What¡¯s he said so far?¡±


    ¡°Says he isn''t a danger, to us."


    "We''ll see about that.¡±


    Rufus took a swig from his flask before leaning in, his one good eye boring into Levi.


    ¡°Word is you killed folks. Not just any folks¡ªones who were tryin¡¯ to help. So, tell me... what makes this any diff¡ª¡±


    Rufus¡¯s words cut off mid-sentence as he caught it¡ªthe shift in kid¡¯s eyes. There it was, plain as day: fury, hot and barely contained.


    ¡°Got a problem with somethin¡¯, kid? Don¡¯t like hearin¡¯ ¡¯bout your own crimes?¡±


    ¡°Ease off, Rufus. Give him a chance to talk.¡±


    Edmond motioned for Levi to take a drink. He waited, his gaze firm but not pressing.


    ¡®Bald, one-eyed teapot.''


    Levi did his best to wrestle his temper down. He took a cautious sip from the water bladder, mindful not to overdo it. His throat burned less, but the taste of bile still lingered.


    ¡°The only folks who¡¯ve ever tried to help me were that boy I saved¡­ and I guess now you two. So I dont know nothin'' bout killin'' nobody helpful.¡±


    ¡°So it wasn¡¯t a rehabilitation center?¡±


    Edmond asked, leaning forward just enough to catch Levi¡¯s expression.


    ¡°Never been to one, and like I told ya, I ain¡¯t never hurt nobody who didn¡¯t come for me first. I¡¯m no criminal, and I sure as hell ain¡¯t crazy.¡±


    Rufus snorted, his laugh sharp as a whip crack.


    ¡°So who tuned you up, then? Sister Moira says your augments are fresh. You tellin¡¯ us the place you ran from¡¯s a tech farm? Bullshit.¡±


    His vaporguard arm gave a faint whir as he leaned back, grinnin¡¯ wide.


    ¡°Next thing, you¡¯ll be sayin¡¯ you shit gold and piss whiskey.¡±


    Levi¡¯s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his voice cold as steel.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you shit about a farm. And all I am tellin¡¯ is what I already said¡ªI didn¡¯t murder nobody.¡±


    The room hung quiet for a beat, the weight of Levi¡¯s words settling heavy. Rufus, for once, didn¡¯t spit back. Edmond gave a small nod, taking in what the boy had said.


    Edmond was the first to break the silence.


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t run from¡ª¡±


    ¡°Rooster broth, cock-a-doodle-doo!¡±


    The door swung open, and a bright voice filled the room. A girl of about ten walked in, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of broth. Her red braids bounced as she grinned wide.


    ¡°I added a bit o¡¯ lard to it. You¡¯re way too skinny to get on the mend.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Kati-bird."


    Edmond said with a small smile, patting her on the head as she set the tray on Levi¡¯s lap. His expression softened just a hair.


    ¡°You start the rest?¡±


    ¡°Sure did. But Nathan¡¯s mad again ¡¯bout the beans. Says Uncle Rufus won¡¯t quit teasin¡¯ him ¡¯bout his farts.¡±


    ¡°That boy ''bout cleared the house last time.¡±


    Rufus grumbled, gettin¡¯ to his feet.


    ¡°And it ain''t teasin''. I just keep him steady, is all. I¡¯ll go talk to him. Kids these days are too soft.¡±


    He shot Levi a glance on his way out.


    ¡°Eat every damn drop, boy. Been me watchin¡¯ over ya this whole time. Don¡¯t waste my efforts by skimpin¡¯.¡±


    Levi watched Rufus leave, not sure what to make of the man¡¯s gruff advice. Edmond raised an eyebrow, muttering under his breath.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t take long.¡±


    Turning back to Levi, Edmond slapped his knees as he stood.


    ¡°We¡¯ll finish this later. I¡¯ll come check on ya in a bit.¡±


    Pausing at the door, he looked back, his voice firm but calm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think about running. We¡¯re the only ones who know you¡¯re here. Be real stupid of ya to change that.¡±


    The door clicked shut behind him, but his words stuck in Levi¡¯s head like burrs on a coat. Glancing down at the bowl, steam rose up in a way that made his stomach snarl like a caged beast.


    ----


    Before heading to the kitchen, the two men stepped into an empty room, shutting the door behind them. Silence stretched, neither in a hurry to break it.


    Finally, Rufus exhaled hard, rubbing the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°He ain¡¯t lyin¡¯.¡±


    Edmond nodded slow, his thoughts the same.


    Rufus let out a low grunt, not quite satisfied.


    ¡°He ain''t tellin¡¯ us much though.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect him to. Don''t think he¡¯s looking to burn us, either.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan? We keep him? Toss him? ¡®Cause if we¡¯re keepin¡¯ him, that means money, also means complication.¡±


    ¡°Not looking to keep him. But we aren''t throwing him out, either. Boy¡¯s barely hanging on, and if he doesn''t talk, Sister Moira¡¯s the only one who might have some answers. We wait.¡±


    Rufus clicked his tongue, weighing it over.


    ¡°Hmph. Ain¡¯t thrilled about it, but fine. We give it time. Let him rest, see if he don¡¯t start talkin¡¯ more on his own. No point rushin¡¯ a fella who¡¯s just crawled outta the grave.¡±


    Edmond¡¯s lips quirked just slightly.


    ¡°Funny, didn¡¯t take you for the caring type.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t caring. It¡¯s caution.¡±


    ¡°Sure, that why you were fussing over him all week?¡±


    ¡°Fussin¡¯? The hell I was.¡±


    Edmond shrugged, easy as ever.


    Rufus grumbled something under his breath, but Edmond just smirked, pushing off the wall.


    ¡°C¡¯mon then, beans aren''t gonna complain about themselves.¡±

 Chapter 8: Washed and Weathered

    Chapter 8: Washed and Weathered


    The world was thick with steam, suffocating and blinding, clinging to Levi like hot tar. His breath came ragged, chest tight as he stumbled forward, every step slow and wrong, like moving through deep mud.


    His limbs felt heavy, his body uncooperative. He couldn¡¯t see, but he knew he had to find something.


    The air burned. Standing still too long made his skin feel like it was blistering, so he pushed forward, hands outstretched.


    A flash¡ªrage-filled eyes, wild hair, a native scream of fury¡ª


    ''Not that.''


    Another¡ªa woman, rouged lips twisted in disgust, yanking herself away from his scarred face¡ª


    ''Not that.''


    More¡ªflames licking high, the stench of charred flesh and pooled blood. He was sitting atop a burning fort, watching below as men screamed, their bodies crushed beneath giant, turning wheels of blackened steel¡ª


    ''Not that!''


    He kept moving, feet dragging, his pulse hammering against his ribs. His chest heaved, sweat and soot sticking to his skin. He had to find it. Had to¡ª


    ''Wait!''


    He looked down.


    ''Where¡¯s my arm?''


    A cold, hollow fear opened inside him. Panic flared hot, melting into rage. He couldn¡¯t find it now. He couldn¡¯t fix it. He clenched his remaining fist, the heat around him growing unbearable. Steam hissed and screamed, jets of it blasting hot against him.


    Then came the voices.


    Shouting, laughing, moaning, spilling from the steam like ghosts. They rose around him, pummel¡¯d his ears, drowning out the roar of the vapor, wrapping around his mind like chains.


    He staggered, pressing his one hand hard to his ear, dropping to his knees. The noise threatened to swallow him whole.


    And then¡ªsomething quiet.


    Soft. Brittle. Breaking, yet somehow steady.


    A woman¡¯s voice.


    It rose through the chaos, weaving between the shouts and screams like a river through cracked earth. A hum, low and old, deep with something more than melody¡ªsomething that taught you, if you let it.


    His mind latched on, desperate. The sadness slammed into him so hard it nearly knocked him breathless. He clutched at the space where his arm should¡¯ve been, his heart thundering against his ribs as rain began to fall.


    Steam parted in patches, revealing slivers of grass beneath him, wet and shimmering. He turned, searching, his breath shuddering out of him. His face was wet, and not just from the rain.


    He had to find it.


    The calming voice wavered, slipping through his fingers like water. The other voices surged forward, shoving it aside, reclaiming their space.


    ''No¡ªno, no, no!''


    His mouth opened, his throat froze as he tried to call out, but no sound came.


    His voice was gone.


    His body lurched forward, hand outstretched, desperate to grasp something before it was too late.


    Just as his feet shifted forward, a blazing green light swallowed his sight, blinding and all-consuming. The air filled with the shriek of grinding metal, a sound so sharp and violent it felt like it was trying to tear the whole damn world apart.


    And just as sudden as it came, the world around him shattered.


    ----


    Levi shot up.


    "Why?!"


    The word slipped out, raw and distant, like it belonged to someone else.


    "You were having a nightmare."


    His vision snapped into focus. Instinct took over¡ªhis empty hand shot forward.


    "Shit!"


    Noticing he no longer had his weapon, his breath came fast, heart pounding as his senses caught up.


    Across the room, sitting in a chair by the door, a young boy swung his feet idly, watching him with an amused sort of patience.


    "Looking for this?"


    The kid held up the broken handle from Miss May¡¯s pitcher.


    "Found it on the floor."


    He hopped up, quick and light, crossing the room to set it on the bed.


    Levi hesitated, fingers curling slightly before finally taking it. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but the thing suddenly felt awkward.


    His eyes lingered on the kid as he shuffled back to his chair. Dressed better than most his age¡ªgreased-over brown hair, round face, brown cap settled low over sharp, watchful eyes. The vest and shorts gave him a peculiar look, like someone half-grown but already thinking he ran the place.


    "Heard your name was Levi. I''m Nathan. Nathan Copperhill."


    Levi stretched his legs out, rolling his neck with a stiff pop before settling on the edge of the bed.


    "How long was I out this time?"


    "A whole day."


    Nathan answered, swinging his feet against the chair.


    "How¡¯d you get those scars?"


    The abrupt question caught Levi off-guard. He coughed, his brow furrowing as he took a slow, calming breath. Then, catching the scent of himself, he sneered.


    "Different ways. Boy, they ever teach you ''bout manners?"


    Nathan shrugged, unfazed.


    "I¡¯m sorry if it¡¯s rude, mister, but everyone¡¯s curious."


    He leaned back, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his hair.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I told ¡¯em you got in a fight with a polecat. That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it?"


    Levi could feel his patience thinning, but instead of snapping, he calmed himself. His eyes locked onto Nathan, cold and steady. He lifted a finger, tracing the deep, jagged scar that cut from his mouth to his ear.


    "This one? A gift. From a Crow Valley brave. It¡¯s what they call a Dohiyi Gvgeyui."


    Nathan¡¯s legs stopped swinging. His curious expression tightened just a bit.


    "In their tongue, it means Stealing the white man''s sadness."


    Levi¡¯s smirked, but his eyes didn¡¯t match it.


    "Too bad I gutted him before he could finish. Otherwise, I¡¯d be smilin¡¯ forever, ear to ear."


    A loud gulp cut through the room.


    Nathan shot to his feet.


    "That don¡¯t scare me. But I gotta let ''em know you¡¯re up. Nice to meet you, Mister."


    His stiff-legged stride toward the door made Levi¡¯s smirk fade.


    As soon as Nathan was gone, he let his fingers trail over the scar. The memory of that brave¡¯s final scream rang through his head, clear as a church bell. So did his dying expression.


    He shook the thought off.


    ''No use diggin¡¯ up graves.''


    Instead, he grabbed his shirt and brought it up for a sniff¡ªonly to yank it away just as fast.


    "Holy hell!"


    With slow, deliberate movements, he peeled it off, careful of his bandages. The shirt hit the floor with a weight heavier than it should¡¯ve been.


    His eyes drifted over his body. The bruises, deep and yellowing, were fading. His bandages were clean enough, but he peeled one back to check. Where flesh met steel, thick scabs crusted over the wounds and stitches, dark and tight.


    "Better than I expected."


    He¡¯d always healed fast. Even when sickness swept through places he passed, he¡¯d never caught so much as a fever. Only thing that ever knocked him flat was a bad hangover.


    ''Might as well see if I can bathe before I split. Should be able to move in a day or two¡­ don¡¯t know if I can last that long smellin¡¯ like a damn stable.''


    Levi braced himself, shifting his weight slow as he went to stand. His body moved like a rusted hinge¡ªstiff, uncooperative. Every step felt like walking barefoot on nails. Grimacing, he made it halfway across the room before he leaned hard against a table, his breath short.


    ¡°Son of a bitch. Might need longer than I thought.¡±


    Before he could push off and try again, a knock rattled the door¡ªsharp, no hesitation. Before he could answer, Edmond stepped inside.


    ¡°Looking better. How you feeling?¡±


    Levi exhaled slow, shifting his weight off the wardrobe.


    ¡°Decent.¡±


    He glanced down at himself¡ªbruised, bandaged, and rank as all hell. He frowned.


    ¡°Any way I could use a washroom? Could also warsh my clothes if ya got some spares I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I already sent Nathan to start a bath.¡±


    Edmond cut in, motioning for him to follow.


    ¡°Been tired of smelling ya myself.¡±


    His gaze flicked over Levi¡¯s scars as he turned toward the door.


    Levi didn¡¯t argue, just followed, letting the silence stretch between them. The slow shuffle of his feet and the steady clomp of Edmond¡¯s boots were the only sounds.


    Then, after a beat, Edmond spoke again.


    ¡°You¡¯re too young to have served. But I¡¯d know the scar from an arrowhead or blade as easy as breathing. You¡¯re a merc.¡±


    A dark smile tugged at Levi¡¯s lips, quick and bitter.


    ¡°And you¡¯re a bounty hunter runnin¡¯ an orphanage. What of it?¡±


    ¡°Not accusing. We all got stories.¡±


    Edmond stopped at a door, pushing it open to reveal a shoddily tiled washroom, steam already curling up from the tub.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have Nathan bring the clothes and bandages. Soap¡¯s in the bin.¡±


    Giving a small nod of thanks and stepping inside, Levi reached for the door. But before he could shut it, Edmond¡¯s boot held it open.


    ¡°Nothing stupid, kid.¡±


    Levi met his gaze, steady and unblinking. Just waiting.


    After a moment, Edmond pulled back, leaving without another word. Levi watched his back disappear down the hall, his jaw tight.


    ¡°Nosey old man.¡±


    He pushed the door shut. Stood still for a moment, listening to Edmond¡¯s steps fade away.


    Satisfied with the distance, he let his shoulders sag, the tension leaking out like air from a busted canteen. The act dropped as the pain set in, deep and sharp, pulling a quiet groan from his throat.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve asked for some meds.¡±


    What should¡¯ve been a simple bath turned into an hour-long ordeal, most of it spent fighting against his own body. Every movement pulled at scabs and stiff muscles, the hot water doing as much harm as it did good. By the time he was done, he felt more exhausted than refreshed.


    Drying off slow, he was careful not to tear open the wounds that¡¯d softened. He slathered on the cream Nathan had left with the fresh bandages, wincing here and there but pushing through.


    But as he reached for the last strip of cloth, his hand started trembling. At first, just a little, barely a twitch¡ªbut then real bad, like a greenhorn trying to steady a bolter in his first fight.


    His breath hitched, frustration flaring hot in his chest.


    Gritting his teeth, he forced his arms to still, but the harder he tried, the worse it got. A deep ache settled into his bones, the weight of everything crashing down in a way he hadn¡¯t let it yet.


    He¡¯d fought like hell, bled for it, and damn near died. And for what? Just to sit here shaking like a newborn colt, too weak to even wrap his own damn wounds?


    His fingers curled into fists, nails and metal biting into his palms. For a second, he wanted to hit something¡ªthe wall, the floor, his own useless body¡ªbut there wasn¡¯t a point.


    Anger wouldn¡¯t stitch him back together.


    Swallowing hard, he sucked in a breath and forced himself to finish, slow and steady. Like nothing had happened.


    Finished dressing, he took a moment to inspect himself. The white collared shirt was clean, the fabric stiff but comfortable. He tucked it neatly into the brown trousers before pulling the suspenders up over his shoulders. They fit surprisingly well¡ªnot too loose, not too tight.


    Reaching up, he tied his unkempt blonde hair back, letting the bangs hang free.


    His boots were still back in the room, so he gathered what little he had and made for the door. Just as he pulled it open¡ª


    Rufus.


    The man stood there like he¡¯d been waiting. Didn¡¯t say nothing at first, just gave him a once-over before nodding down the hall.


    ¡°Follow me.¡±


    Levi didn¡¯t move right away, watching Rufus walk off before letting out a slow breath. His muscles relaxed just enough to keep his head clear.


    ''Stay calm¡­ If they wanted to turn me in, they would¡¯ve done it already. Just play along till you get your blades.''


    But despite the sense of it, his gut still knotted up something fierce.


    Rufus led Levi back to his room, stopping just outside the door.


    ¡°Put your stuff away.¡±


    ¡°We goin¡¯ somewhere?¡±


    Rufus just stared, his one eye steady, unreadable.


    ¡®Oh now you wanna be quiet? Fuckin'' teapot old man.¡¯


    Levi set his dirty clothes inside, pulled on his boots, and stepped back out. With a dry smirk.


    ¡°Where now, boss?¡±


    Rufus arched a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching before he turned on his heel.


    ¡°Wanna show you somethin¡¯.¡±


    Levi followed as Rufus led him toward the front of the house, stepping into an open room with a broad window that stretched across the front wall. Through it, he caught sight of the kids playing outside¡ªrunning, laughing, dragging kites through the dirt.


    His eyes lingered on them longer than they should¡¯ve. The way they ran, the way they hollered, the way their laughter carried so easy on the wind. A sound so familiar it stuck in his throat like a bone.


    ¡°Edmond says you¡¯re not a danger.¡±


    Rufus¡¯s voice cut through, but Levi barely turned his head.


    ¡°To be honest, I kinda agree.¡±


    The bounty hunter pulled out a smoke, snapped his fingers, and let the flame catch before taking a long, slow drag.


    ¡°I can also tell you ain¡¯t a liar. Least, not yet. So I¡¯ll just give you this one warning, kid. While you¡¯re here, if you so much as make one of ¡¯em cry."


    He lifted his right arm, the Vaporguard tech whirrin¡¯ as the limbs of his crossbow moved, twitching like a rattler.


    "We understand each other?¡±


    Levi heard every word, but his thoughts were stuck somewhere else, trapped beneath something heavy. Something deep, something dark, curled inside him. A weight he refused to name.


    ¡°We do.¡±


    His voice came quiet, distant. Then, with a breath he didn¡¯t quite release, he added.


    ¡°Mind if I head back now? Feelin¡¯ pretty tired.¡±


    Rufus blinked, thrown off by the shift. He¡¯d expected some sass, maybe a glare¡ªsomething with bite. But there was no fight in Levi¡¯s voice, just a tired sort of sadness that made Rufus frown.


    ¡°Uh¡­ sure. Long as you get it.¡±


    Levi turned on his heel, heading back toward his room without another word. Rufus exhaled slow, watching him go.


    ''Damn kid. Took all the fun outta it.''


    As Levi walked, his face stayed dark, his thoughts heavier than before. His hand drifted to his shoulder, fingers pressing absentmindedly over the fresh bandages.


    Then¡ª shhk.


    He stopped.


    His ear caught it again¡ªquick, sharp, deliberate. The sound of a blade on metal.


    ¡®That ain¡¯t from the kitchen.¡¯


    Kneeling slightly, he listened harder, straining against the noise of the house. There it was again. A steady scrape, followed by a metallic clank. The rhythm was wrong for working tools. This was something else.


    It was coming from below.


    His gaze landed on a door tucked near the back of the hall, one he hadn¡¯t paid much mind to before. Stepping toward it, he pressed his hand against the worn wood and listened.


    The sound was clearer now. A grinding whir, followed by the unmistakable hiss of steam. His grip tightened on the handle, and he eased the door open.


    Stairs.


    And they ran deeper than he expected.


    A basement.


    Descending slow, the air grew thick with the scent of oil and metal, damp stone walls closing in around him. The deeper he went, the louder it got¡ªuntil finally, he stepped through another door into a massive, open space.


    Underground, a whole different world unfolded.


    And there, in the center of it all, stood Edmond.


    Facing down a steambot.


    Levi stilled, eyes sharp as he took in the scene. The dim glow of amber veins pulsed across Edmond¡¯s Vaporguard arms, his stance loose but steady as the steambot lurched forward, gears grinding.


    It was a fight.


    And from the way Edmond moved, this wasn¡¯t just some old war dog keeping in shape.


    This was training.

 Chapter 9: A Fighting Chance

    Chapter 9: A Fighting Chance


    Watching Edmond move like that¡ªlike a damn storm bottled up in a man¡¯s body¡ªLevi damn near forgot to breathe. His eyes tracked the blur of steel and steam, trying to make sense of it. He¡¯d seen plenty of men fight, had fought plenty himself, but this was something else.


    He was so caught up in it, he didn¡¯t even notice Rufus slinking up behind him.


    "It¡¯s an old mine from before Denton was here."


    Rufus pushed past him to step onto the metal balcony that overlooked the cavern below.


    "This here¡¯s the oldest buildin¡¯ in Denton. But that¡¯s the trouble of it¡ªit''s the oldest buildin¡¯ in Denton."


    He let out a dry chuckle, amused by his own joke as he started down the stairs.


    "Quit gawkin¡¯ at him like a schoolgirl. View¡¯s better up close anyway."


    Levi shot him a glare that could¡¯ve curdled milk, real tempting to kick him straight down those stairs. His boots hit the steps heavy as he followed, eyes still locked on Edmond¡¯s fight.


    Feeling a twitch on his scalp, Rufus rubbed his head absentmindedly.


    "Ever seen one?"


    Levi barely glanced at him.


    "That¡¯s a model T-8, isn¡¯t it?"


    Rufus gave a short nod. "Not bad. We call him Timmy¡ªon account he¡¯s kinda special."


    ''Special?''


    Levi narrowed his eyes at the bot as they reached the mine floor. Took him a second, but then it clicked.


    "How¡¯s it so fast?"


    He¡¯d seen the thing moving earlier, but his mind had been too stuck on the sheer scale of the basement to put it together. Now, standing closer, watching the way Timmy¡¯s metal limbs blurred through the air, the unnatural speed was impossible to ignore.


    "I¡¯ve trained with a few of these. One of ¡¯em was even fresh outta the factory. Ain¡¯t no way that thing should be keepin¡¯ up like this."


    Now that he was focusing proper, he caught every flash of movement. Edmond and the steambot moved like they were in their own damn world, their dual sabers clashing with a rhythm that felt more like a dance than a fight.


    But the real surprise wasn¡¯t the bot. It was Edmond.


    The old man was fast¡ªfaster than he should¡¯ve been. Every strike, every step, it all made sense now. The way he carried himself, the sheer power behind each movement¡ªhe wasn¡¯t just enhanced. He was built for war.


    ''They¡¯re movin'' at least 40 miles an hour.''


    Man and machine clashed, sparks flashing like quicksilver.


    "We upgraded his Pneuma Core."


    Levi¡¯s gaze dropped to his own augments, and a sour taste filled his mouth. He suddenly felt... small. He¡¯d fought tooth and nail to stay alive, clawed his way through hell, and yet, compared to that? To them? He wouldn¡¯t stand a damn chance.


    "Give it time."


    The words caught him off guard. He looked up to see Rufus, leaning against a pillar, cigarette between his fingers, eyes on the fight.


    Levi hesitated, then exhaled slow.


    "I ain¡¯t tryin¡¯ to diminish nothin¡¯. But why¡¯re you all doin¡¯ this? I ain''t your kin. I ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ close to those kids. So why don''t you turn me in?"


    Rufus took a long drag, exhaled through his nose, and let the silence stretch. Then, with a shrug, he spit.


    "Beats me."


    "Huh?"


    Rufus didn¡¯t even look at him.


    "Besides, you¡¯re askin¡¯ the wrong man."


    Levi¡¯s gaze drifted back to Edmond.


    This man¡ªthis disciplined, cold, deadly man¡ªhad saved him? But why?


    He found himself staring, searching for some kinda answer in the way Edmond moved, in the way he fought. But nothing made sense.


    "Watch this."


    With a shit-eatin¡¯ grin, Rufus lifted his arm, the bolter expandin¡¯ as his Vaporguard flared with a deep amber glow.


    "Watch your ass!"


    TWOONG!


    Vapor burst from Rufus¡¯s arm as the bolt tore free, kicking like a mule. The force cracked the stone beneath his feet, his legs venting hard to keep him steady.


    The black bolt screamed through the mine like a banshee, splitting the air in an instant.


    Across the mine, Edmond and the steambot didn¡¯t break their rhythm¡ªbut Levi caught the shift.


    Edmond¡¯s stance widened, his knee flexing just slightly before a sharp burst of vapor shot from his shoulder. His saber snapped up, steel kissin¡¯ the bolt mid-flight.


    The impact rattled through him, his arm giving a telltale jerk from the weight of it, but the blade held. In the same motion, he twisted, redirecting the bolt wide as his other saber met the steambot¡¯s strike in perfect tandem.


    BOOM!


    The far wall erupted in smoke and rubble as the bolt struck home, leavin¡¯ a smolderin¡¯ crater. Levi¡¯s gut twisted at the sight. That was no ordinary shot. Whatever Rufus had loaded, it damn near could¡¯ve torn a man clean in half.


    Levi¡¯s eyes narrowed as the steam cleared from Rufus¡¯s Vaporguard. The blacksteel plates shifted back into place, the amber glow between the vents hissin¡¯ like a nest of vipers.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Why didn¡¯t you use that on Mad Gear?"


    Rufus frowned for a moment, his arm lowering as he looked the boy over.


    "Shows how green ya are to ask that."


    "I ain¡¯t no greenhorn."


    "Sure, kid. But scalpin¡¯ natives ain¡¯t the same. Natives ain¡¯t augmented. Fightin¡¯ someone tuned up¡¯s a different story. Ever tussled with someone movin¡¯ like that?"


    Levi clenched his jaw. He hated to admit it, but he was right. He¡¯d only gone up against augmented fighters a handful of times, and none of those were real fights¡ªbar brawls at best. Each one ended the same, with him getting his ass handed to him, not a single blow worth braggin¡¯ about.


    "End spar."


    Edmond¡¯s voice cut through the air like a hammer, halting the steambot instantly. Its vents jetted a burst of steam, mechanisms groaning as it cooled. Now that it stood still, Levi could finally get a proper look at it.


    ¡®Timmy¡¯ was just a standard T-8 model, a mess of twistin¡¯ pipes and cables, its "skin" patched together from dented plating and thick wire mesh. And yet, moments ago, it had moved like the devil himself was winding its gears.


    "Mad Gear¡¯s been on the run a long time for a reason. Think ¡®bout what could¡¯ve happened if he¡¯d swatted that shot back toward town. Once you¡¯re healed up¡­ and if you¡¯re intendin¡¯ to stay a bit¡­ we¡¯ll get ya used to it."


    "Used to what?"


    Edmond walked over, wipin¡¯ his face with a rag, his greying beard and hair drenched in sweat.


    "Fightin¡¯ with Vaporguard. Just learnin¡¯ him that tusslin¡¯ with natives nowadays ain¡¯t the same as fightin¡¯ folks like us."


    Levi¡¯s jaw clenched as his face started heatin¡¯ up.


    "Let me guess¡ªback in your day, redskins were twice as big and swung trees like clubs?"


    Rufus narrowed his eye.


    "Little smart-ass. A war-band usin¡¯ Earthsong is like¡ª"


    "Leave it. Kid just don¡¯t know better."


    Edmond¡¯s gaze flicked over Levi¡¯s cleaned-up state, and a ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.


    "Look like a decent human being now. Who¡¯d have imagined."


    With that, he slung the rag over his shoulder and started up the stairs.


    "Hope you left some hot water."


    "Now hold on a damn minute! Don¡¯t go takin¡¯ off just yet."


    Rufus jabbed a finger toward Edmond, then turned it on Levi.


    "And you. You trained wit'' these models, means you¡¯re familiar. Go give Timmy a dose of earl while the grown folks talk."


    Levi¡¯s frown deepened, the itch of his half-healed wounds flaring up as he stared at Rufus.


    "Quit eyeball-fuckin¡¯ me, boy, and get movin¡¯! You already ate our food and shit in our bed, so show some damn ¡¯preciation."


    Levi turned a shade redder, his lips twitching with irritation as he spun toward the T-8.


    "Follow for maintenance."


    The steambot gave a low whistle, its gears hissing as it turned, its movements awkward, like it¡¯d spent every last drop of grace sparring with Edmond.


    "You two seem to be getting along."


    Edmond lowered himself onto the bottom step with a smirk.


    "Never mind you. We still got problems to deal with. That damn Bishop ain¡¯t just gon¡¯ give up, ya know?"


    As Levi reached the far end of the cave, where two steel barrels sat against the stone wall, their voices faded into murmurs. He glanced around, taking in the cavern, his curiosity twitching like an itch he couldn¡¯t scratch.


    Grabbing an oil-soaked rag, he knelt beside the bot, rubbing its joints with steady hands.


    "Who the hell are these guys? Met my fair share of bounty hunters before, but these two don¡¯t seem the type."


    He paused, eyeing the flat metal that made up Timmy¡¯s face. Realizing how damn dumb he sounded, he sighed and shook his head.


    "Well, guess it¡¯s better than talkin'' to them or those kids."


    His voice dropped, somber now, the words sitting heavier than he meant.


    "Especially those kids."


    "Lemon tits!"


    Rufus¡¯s voice suddenly boomed across the mine.


    "Lemon what?"


    Levi brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what in the hell that meant. Curiosity got the better of him, and he strained to listen.


    Best he started to gather, they were arguing over money. He figured him not being turned in had something to do with it. He caught the way Edmond hesitated when Rufus brought up taking another bounty¡ªlike the idea sat wrong with him.


    Clank!


    Levi flinched as his metal fist knocked against the bot, the sharp ring of steel-on-steel snapping him from his thoughts. He stared down at his hand, a shiver of disgust crawling up his spine.


    "That¡¯s what I sound like?"


    His fingers curled into a fist, tight enough to make his gears grind. That familiar heat crept up his neck, that deep, blood-red anger he¡¯d barely kept buried scratching at his insides. His breath came sharp, jaw clenching as the rage simmered, thick and molten.


    Murder ran through his veins.


    Dropping the rag without a second thought, Levi stormed to his feet, his boots heavy against the ground. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and strode toward the two hunters, his fists still balled tight.


    Levi knew he had to play this just right. Rufus was the type with a temper¡ªshort as a matchstick and twice as easy to light.


    ''Make him mad enough, he''ll start thinkin'' stupid.''


    So as soon as he got close, he made damn sure his voice carried.


    "Hey, teapot!"


    Both Edmond and Rufus froze, but their reactions couldn¡¯t have been more different. Edmond¡¯s eyes widened, and he slowly stood up, taking a few steps back on the stairs, already seeing where this was headed.


    Rufus, meanwhile, turned a deep shade of crimson, his jaw working like he was chewing on a nail.


    Calling a man a teapot was fighting words. It meant he was all steam and no substance¡ªrunning his mouth without ever saying a damn thing worth hearing. Folks didn¡¯t take kindly to it, least of all a man like him.


    "You feelin¡¯ stupid? Or just tired of livin¡¯? Cause I know you didn¡¯t just call me that."


    Levi held his ground, his amber eyes locked onto Rufus¡¯s one good one.


    "Only one man around here constantly talkin''. And instead of wastin¡¯ time doin¡¯ that, I got a better idea."


    Rufus was gone.


    ''Shi¡ª!''


    Levi barely had time to blink before a hand clamped down on his face like an iron vise, a force stronger than he expected lifting him clean off his feet.


    "Rufus!"


    "Boy asked for a lesson."


    The gears in his arm started to whir.


    "As an adult, I¡¯m obliged to teach him."


    Just as the pressure on his skull started to tighten, Levi shouted.


    "Crimson Song!"


    Like he said the magic words, Rufus¡¯s grip hesitated, that mean grin of his twitching. That was all Levi needed.


    Swinging his leg up fast, he aimed clear for Rufus¡¯s nose. The bounty hunter easily stepped back, avoiding the kick¡ªbut he was forced to let go.


    Levi hit the ground, breathing heavy, his body tensed in case Rufus wasn¡¯t done.


    "I know where she¡¯s hiding!"


    Like a switch had flipped, Rufus¡¯s anger drained, replaced with something else entirely¡ªgreed. He was on Levi in an instant, haulin¡¯ him up by his shirt and dusting him off like they were old pals.


    "Now why didn¡¯t you say somethin¡¯ sooner? Now tell Uncle Rufus everythin¡¯ you know."


    But Levi shoved Rufus¡¯s hands off him, meeting his gaze head-on.


    "I¡¯ll tell you¡ªon one condition."


    "Name it."


    "You take me on the hunt."


    "No."


    Edmond answered immediately, his voice final.


    Rufus waved a hand, already working around it.


    "Now don¡¯t go gettin¡¯ hasty. Just ¡®cause we bring him along don¡¯t mean he has to participate. He can¡ª"


    "No."


    Levi cut in, firm.


    "Either I¡¯m an equal partner in this, or I ain¡¯t sayin¡¯ nothin¡¯."


    "I already said no."


    "Goddammit, Edmond! He ain¡¯t yours to protect! But them kids upstairs are! If he says he can help, you got no right to stand in the way. We need money, and we need it bad. Winter¡¯s comin¡¯."


    Edmond exhaled slow through his nose, his jaw tight as he weighed it. A vein bulged at his temple as his eyes flicked between Levi and Rufus, wrestling with something in his head.


    "Fine. But I got a condition too. You heal first. Then we¡¯ll see if you¡¯re capable. If you can last more than thirty seconds against me, you can go."


    "I call bullshit!"


    Rufus threw his arms up.


    "Might as well just keep your ¡®no¡¯ with rules like that!"


    Levi didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t blink. Just squared his shoulders and looked Edmond straight in the eye.


    "Fine. Thirty seconds against Timmy, then."


    "Deal!"


    Levi and Rufus both agreed at the same time, their voices overlapping as they turned to glare at each other.


    Feeling like he¡¯d just stepped in something foul, Edmond ran a hand over his face with a sigh.


    "Since that¡¯s settled, I¡¯m taking a damn shower."


    "What''s the rush? Don''t we got some plannin'' to get to? Hey! Don''t just walk away."


    They kept bickerin¡¯, their voices blending into the mine¡¯s low hum as steam hissed from the pipes overhead. Levi let them go at it, his mind already elsewhere. Turning over the fight in his head. Counting every second he had to last.


    ''Thirty. Ain¡¯t long. Ain¡¯t short, neither. But it''s enough.''


    He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders, letting the ache settle in. It worked. Not as clean as he wanted, but clean enough. Whatever was left of luck, fate, or some damn twisted sense of mercy¡ªhe¡¯d take it.


    A chance to escape. A chance to get his knives back.


    And he wasn¡¯t about to waste it.

 Chapter 10: Scars and Stories

    Chapter 10: Scars and Stories


    Three days. Longest damn stretch of stillness he''d ever suffered.


    After striking his deal with Edmond, he knew his time was ticking. He had Crimson Song¡¯s whereabouts, but no telling how long she¡¯d stay put. He needed that hunt to kick up dust, enough to cover his escape. That meant healing fast was step one.


    So he¡¯d spent the last three days in near-complete bed rest, doing his damndest to keep to his room, avoiding everyone. But no matter how much he tried, them kids still found ways to pull him into their world¡ªlittle voices, little feet, too much energy for a place this quiet.


    "Feels more natural. Not sure I like that."


    Lowering his arm, a sudden high-pitched scream from outside made his chest clench. Not fear, but childhood fun¡ªjust a sound that pulled something from deep in the dark.


    With a slow breath to shake off his thoughts, he sat up, testing the weight of his own body. Felt solid.


    "Think I¡¯m ready."


    Pushing to his feet, he stepped to the center of the room, rolling his shoulders, letting his muscles wake up. Time to see if his body agreed.


    Shedding his shirt, the motion came easier now, free of the sharp pull of pain. He unwrapped the bandages next, letting them fall loose.


    The flesh where steel met skin was still pink, but the scabs had fallen clean. He flexed his shoulder, rolling his arm across his chest, testing the stretch.


    Dropping low, he stretched out his legs, feeling the last of the stiffness finally ease up. He kicked out, letting the motion flow smooth, then pressed up into a handstand, his arms holding the full weight with ease.


    For a second.


    ¡®It¡¯s like I¡¯m carryin¡¯ somethin¡¯.¡¯


    The difference in strength between his arms threw him off, too much to ignore. The balance shifted¡ªhis body tilted¡ªand before he could correct it, he toppled over, landing hard.


    Staring up at the ceiling, he could just imagine how bad that bot would hand him his ass if he tried it now.


    "Pathetic."


    Then, noise from outside his door caught his attention.


    The kids.


    He could hear them now, huddled just beyond the door, arguing about something, their voices hushed but full of mischief.


    He expected the usual irritation to rise up, but it didn¡¯t. Instead, he found himself thinking of Pete. His childhood friend wouldn¡¯t have lasted this long, not without breaking down the door, demanding answers to every question that popped into his damn head.


    Moving quiet, Levi stepped to the door and swung it open fast.


    A startled yelp rang out.


    Nathan stood frozen, flanked by two other boys¡ªjust for a heartbeat. Then, like spooked chickens, the other two tore off down the hall, leaving Nathan stranded, looking up at Levi in shock.


    Rolling his eyes, Levi walked back to the bed.


    "Just gonna stand there?"


    "Oh! Right."


    Nathan scrambled to shut the door before plopping down in his usual chair, feet swinging.


    "You look lots better, Mister Levi."


    "Drop the ¡®mister.¡¯"


    Levi grabbed his shirt, pulling it back on before sitting to tug on his boots.


    Nathan let out a low whistle, his eyes roaming over the scars still visible before the fabric covered ¡¯em.


    "Uncle Rufus says you¡¯re a bootjack, but Edmond says you¡¯re a merc. Which is it?"


    The word bootjack soured Levi¡¯s face, a sneer twitchin¡¯ at his lip.


    "Same damn thing. But don¡¯t call me a bootjack again, or I¡¯ll box your ears."


    "Sorry!"


    Nathan flinched, his face flashing panic before curiosity overtook it.


    "Does it mean something bad?"


    Levi sighed, leaning forward on his knees.


    "Mercs usually get hired at the tail end of a fight. Paid to clean up what¡¯s left¡ªfinish off the wounded, strip bodies for weapons, supplies. Folks say we¡¯re low enough to steal a dead man¡¯s boots for a coin. That¡¯s where the name comes from."


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    Nathan¡¯s nose scrunched up.


    "Redskins wear boots?"


    The sheer, innocent absurdity of the question caught Levi off guard. Before he could stop it, a chuckle escaped.


    "Ha! You laughed! Roger owes me a copper."


    Levi¡¯s smile froze, his amusement shuttering like a door slammed shut.


    "Alright, kid. What brings ya here? What your friends send you to ask?"


    Nathan leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity, clutching his cap like it was something sacred.


    "Well, we were wondering¡ªsince you¡¯ve fought natives and all¡ªwhat¡¯s Earthsong magic like?"


    Levi worked his Vaporguard arm in slow circles.


    "Ain¡¯t got a clue. Never seen it."


    Glancing at the kid¡¯s fading expression, he smirked.


    "Why don¡¯t you go ask cue-ball?"


    Nathan sighed, slamming his cap back on his head like he¡¯d just lost a hand at cards.


    "Edmond doesn¡¯t like when we ask about that stuff. Uncle Rufus told us a little once, though. Said he fought a tribe that could summon fog and storms."


    Levi¡¯s smirk faded as the words hit something deep. A memory, sudden and sharp.


    The night he was wounded and taken. Fort Maria, flames rising high, the stench of blood and burning wood thick in the air. Just before the arrows came raining down, a storm had rolled in outta nowhere, like the heavens themselves had been called down for vengeance.


    His fingers flexed unconsciously against his knee.


    "I¡¯ve fought my fair share, but every one of ¡®em was just flesh and bone. If they were usin¡¯ magic, didn¡¯t make much difference to how they died."


    Grabbing the new pitcher on the table, he took a long drink, the cool water washing down the taste of old memories. When he set it down, Nathan was sitting stiff, his face pulled sour.


    Levi sighed, rubbing his temple.


    ''Kids not gonna leave happy with nothing. Might as well give him something to report back.''


    "¡¯Bout two years back, I¡¯d just started takin¡¯ merc work. Done a few jobs by then, nothin¡¯ big, but I was finally in the right place at the right time. Heard about a battle, figured I¡¯d roll the dice and see if I could make a payday at the tail end of it."


    Nathan¡¯s curiosity flickered back, but there was still that shadow of letdown in his face. He wanted magic, something grand and unnatural.


    Levi let a slow grin creep across his face.


    "I¡¯ll tell you somethin¡¯, kid. Magic or not, I¡¯ll never forget what I saw that day."


    He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping low.


    "A holy knight. Atop a war machine."


    That did it. Nathan¡¯s eyes went round, his grip on his cap tightening.


    Levi let the moment hang, seeing the kid was hooked. Hell, who wouldn¡¯t be? Even grown men got quiet hearing this one. He wasn¡¯t much for talking most days, but this? This was one of the few stories worth telling. And after a drink or two, he¡¯d learned how to spin it just right.


    "A Knight Commander, one of the Sacred Order of the Steam-Templars. Covered head to toe in golden Vaporguard armor, not a single inch of flesh showin¡¯. Not a man no more, least not one you¡¯d recognize. A machine of war built for one thing¡ªkillin¡¯ in the name of the Church."


    The room seemed quieter somehow. Even the usual clatter of the orphanage outside felt distant.


    Levi¡¯s gaze darkened as the memory played clear as day. He could still see the way that gold-plated armor caught the last light of the setting sun, polished like a damn idol, steam hissing from vents as it moved¡ªlike the damn thing breathed.


    And the sword.


    Lord help him, the sword.


    "He wielded a blade damn near as tall as I was, covered in fire so bright it burned blue at the edges. Cut through flesh like it weren¡¯t nothin¡¯, turned men to ash before they even hit the ground. He rode through the battlefield, through a band of natives fleein¡¯ for their lives, and that blade carved through ¡®em like a reaper¡¯s scythe."


    Nathan¡¯s mouth parted slightly, the boy hanging on every word.


    "Weren¡¯t just him, his horse¡­ if you could even call it that¡­ weren¡¯t no normal beast. It was Vaporguard, all metal and wire, pullin¡¯ this big-ass chariot that chewed up the ground like a sawblade. Thing was covered in gold, big damn cross on its chest, shinin¡¯ so bright you couldn¡¯t look straight at it. And its mane¡­"


    He let out a breath, rolling his shoulders like he could shake the thought loose.


    "Weren¡¯t hair. It was light¡ªmovin¡¯, flickerin¡¯, like it was alive. Left streaks in the air when it ran."


    The sound of it still rattled in his skull.


    "And the chariot? Weren¡¯t for show. That thing was built to kill. Wheels big as a man, spikes on ¡®em that¡¯d grind folks to pieces. Had blades on the sides, too¡ªlong ones. Anyone dumb enough to get close got cut clean through. People ran, tried to fight, screamed. Didn¡¯t matter. That thing kept comin¡¯. Couldn¡¯t stop it. Nothin¡¯ could."


    His fingers curled tight against his knee, jaw clenching up.


    "Watched that knight tear through ¡®em like nothin¡¯. Never seen nothin¡¯ like it before. Ain¡¯t seen nothin¡¯ like it since."


    The room felt small all of a sudden, too quiet. He blinked, shaking the weight off his mind, and looked back at Nathan, who was sitting there with his mouth half open.


    Keeping back his grin, Levi stepped to the door and swung it open.


    "Alright now, go on and tell ¡¯em. Sure they¡¯ll eat it up. Just don¡¯t be expectin¡¯ much more like it. Now get, I got shit to do."


    "Yes, mist¡ª I mean, yes, Levi!"


    Nathan jumped up, bolting for the hall, but stopped quick, looking back with a wide grin.


    "I¡¯ll make sure the others know never to call you a bootjack. And thanks for the story."


    Levi gave a nod, watching as the kid tore off down the hall, already yelling for his friends. He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, exhaling slow. That feeling was back¡ªsomething crawling up his chest, a mix of guilt and something else he didn¡¯t wanna name. He pushed it down fast.


    "Damn kids."


    Shaking it off, he turned and headed for the basement door. House was quiet, no one around. Good. He slipped inside, taking the steps down two at a time, keeping his mind on what was ahead. He didn¡¯t have time for ghosts.


    As he got closer to the mine entrance, a sharp thud echoed down the hall¡ªsomething hitting something soft. He slowed, listening.


    "Guess they¡¯re in there."


    Another thud. Then another. A familiar twang followed by the hiss of vapor.


    Levi pushed the door open just enough to see inside.


    Rufus stood at the far end, crossbow raised, vaporguard vents spitting short bursts as he fired bolt after bolt into a target dummy, each shot landing dead center.


    Levi frowned, leaning against the doorframe, watching.


    "Why him?"


    Stepping down the stairs, he eyed Rufus as he worked. The bounty hunter stood solid, boots planted firm, taking each shot with the calm of a man who¡¯d done it a thousand times. His light gray slacks and vest fit snug over a white collared shirt, a brown rope-tie tucked under the buttons.


    Over it all sat a tan trench coat, split at the back from the waist, sleeveless on the right to keep his Vaporguard arm free. The black goatee, thin and sharp as a dagger, matched the bald shine of his head, and the eye patch stretched tight over his right eye only made him look meaner.


    Levi kept his steps light, but Rufus didn¡¯t need to see him to know.


    "''Bout time, kid. You ready?"


    Levi slowed, brows drawing down.


    "For what?"


    Rufus finally turned, a grin spreading slow across his face. Without another word, he flipped back his coat, hands flashing to his hips.


    THUNK. THUNK.


    Two familiar blades stuck firm in the dirt at Levi¡¯s feet.


    His bowies.


    He barely breathed, eyes locked on the knives.


    Rufus smirked, leaning just a bit.


    "Ain''t gonna sharpen your ass sittin'' around, boy."

 Chapter 11: Steel in the Spine, Fire in the Gut

    Chapter 11: Steel in the Spine, Fire in the Gut


    ''This is it.''


    Levi forced himself to move slow, fingers curling around the hilts, feeling the weight settle in his hands. One felt right¡ªnatural, familiar. The other... off. Wrong. The fact he could even feel the handle didn¡¯t sit right either.


    ''No... not yet. He¡¯s watching. Probably gagin¡¯ my reaction.''


    With his good hand, he twisted the knife, letting it slide over his fingers like it had a life of its own, slithering and dancing as easy as breathing. The motion steadied him, just enough.


    "Where¡¯s my belt?"


    "Gotta admit, I was surprised to see those."


    Rufus drawled, strolling over to a cabinet on the wall.


    "Don¡¯t see ¡®em used much nowadays."


    He yanked open a drawer, pulling out Levi¡¯s belt and tossed it over.


    Levi caught it easy, slinging it around his waist in a practiced motion.


    "I like second-gen. Old and reliable."


    Pop, slide, click¡ªtwo fresh cartridges snapped into his knives, the weight shifting just right.


    "So, how we doin¡¯ this?"


    Rufus raised a brow, smiling that shit-eatin¡¯ grin.


    "Slow your damn horses, kid. First, you¡¯re gonna run."


    "Run? I know how to fuckin¡¯¡ª"


    Tsunk!


    A bolt slammed into the dirt by his feet. Levi damn near jumped outta his skin, backpedaling quick.


    "You crazy bastard! What the hell¡¯s your problem?!"


    "You are! Flickin¡¯ those knives like you¡¯re ready to duel, but you don¡¯t even know your own body yet. You don¡¯t know how to move right, so you don¡¯t know how to fight right. You think you got time to argue? Or maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI know what the fuck I¡¯m doin¡¯?!"


    Levi clenched his jaw, doing his best not to chuck a blade straight into Rufus¡¯s throat.


    "Alright."


    He holstered his knives and raised his hands up in surrender.


    "I¡¯ll run."


    ''Just play along. Take advantage of this. Who knows, might learn somethin''.''


    "That''s better. Now start runnin¡¯ laps ¡®round the mine. Keep goin¡¯ till you¡¯re done."


    "Till I¡¯m done?"


    Tsunk!


    "I''m movin''!"


    He leapt away from the bolt, damn near tripping over his own boots as he fumbled with his collar, unbuttoning it as he picked up speed. His face went red, but he managed to find his rhythm, feet hitting the dirt steady.


    ''Till I¡¯m done? What if I¡¯m done now, ya bald asshole?''


    Frustration bubbled in his chest, his arms pumping as he circled the mine. As he passed Timmy, he reached out, tapping the steambot¡¯s head.


    "Thirty seconds."


    "Quit foolin¡¯ and get runnin¡¯!"


    Tsunk!


    "Shit!"


    Another bolt kicked up dirt right in front of him, bits of rock pinging off his shins as he barely managed to jump over it.


    "Stop doin¡¯ that!"


    "Run faster! And look proper, you run like a damn girl! Pick your feet up, swing those arms!"


    Levi gritted his teeth and ignored the old bastard. He focused on the ground ahead, but something still felt... off. He figured it was just being off his feet too long, but the longer he ran, the worse it got.


    His jaw clenched. He stopped short, panting hard.


    Rufus raised his arm, hand already tensing for the trigger, but then¡ªhe paused, a slow grin spreading across his face.


    "He noticed."


    Levi bounced on his feet, dropping low into a squat, stretching out his legs. Slapping his thighs once¡ªhard¡ªhe took off again.


    A few more laps passed, sweat dripping from his brow, until suddenly


    ¡ª


    "Bullshit! I¡¯ll fuckin¡¯ kill ''em!"


    Levi swung a fist at the air, damn near fuming.


    "He¡¯s hittin¡¯ a wall."


    Rufus took a slow drag from his smoke as he started toward him.


    "Don¡¯t get flustered, kid, it takes time to get used¡ª"


    "Leave it!"


    Levi snapped, dropping his head and pushing forward, his pace barely stumbling.


    Exhaling slow, Rufus watched him for a long moment before smiling. He flicked the ashes from his smoke.


    "Stubborn¡¯s good."


    And so it went. Lap after lap, Levi kept pushing through, stopping now and then to curse or stretch out muscles that felt stiff in all the wrong places. Meanwhile, Rufus stood in the center, smoking away, looking more bored than impressed¡ªbut he knew it was working.


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    Even though Levi had been running long enough that he should be slowing down, Rufus was watching close. Timed every lap in his head. Kid wasn¡¯t dropping pace.


    "He¡¯s got good stamina. Damn near died, but keeps runnin¡¯ like a kicked mule. Stubborn constitution, and personality."


    He let the thought roll around a second before getting an idea.


    "Take a break! Get some water and walk while you drink."


    Levi followed Rufus¡¯s motion toward a canteen sitting on an old, rickety desk. He jogged over, snatched it up, and drank deep, his boots crunching against the dirt as he walked.


    Rufus watched, brows twitching slightly.


    ''He''s gettin'' more agreeable.''


    The thought caught him off guard¡ªwhy the hell should that impress him? Scowling, he spit on the ground, grumbling to himself, he turned and walked toward a large cabinet.


    Levi caught the movement, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the old bounty hunter pull out a heavy copper box, thick cables coiled around it like snakes, their ends clipped with metal clamps.


    Levi¡¯s breath hitched. He knew exactly what that was. A sharp jolt of excitement hit his chest, his body moving before his mind could stop it.


    Then it curdled.


    The second he caught himself¡ªfelt that flicker of want, of curiosity¡ªit turned his stomach. His jaw clenched, bile rising up with the heat behind his ribs.


    ''Fuck him...Fuck that tinkerin'' bastard.''


    He wasn¡¯t grateful for any of this. Wasn¡¯t about to feel anything but hate for what had been done to him.


    Setting the box down with a solid thud, Rufus turned to call over¡ªonly to stop short when he saw Levi already right beside him.


    "Well, least your steps are gettin¡¯ lighter."


    But he barely heard him. Levi¡¯s eyes were locked onto the machine.


    "That thing even work? Looks busted."


    "It works. Least it should."


    He flipped open a panel, flicking a few switches. The machine whirred to life, the Pneuma Core inside humming as steam pushed through its vents. A low amber glow flickered to life along its seams.


    "Now, if yours are prototypes of somethin¡¯ new, it won¡¯t tell us exactly what they do. But it¡¯ll at least tell us what you got."


    Levi crossed his arms, watching as Rufus checked the machine¡¯s readings.


    "Judgin¡¯ by the look of ya, obvious ones are your arm, shoulder, and part of your chest. But that glow in your eye tells me there¡¯s somethin¡¯ more."


    "A glow?"


    "Faint one. Only seen it a few times. But my gut says there¡¯s somethin¡¯. Sit down."


    Levi hesitated.


    He hated how bad he wanted to know. Hated the part of him that felt itchin¡¯ for answers, like wanting them made him weak¡ªlike it meant he accepted what was done to him.


    ''No. Knowing isn''t acceptin'' it.''


    Knowing meant strength. Meant getting stronger. And that¡¯s what he needed to go back, to get his revenge.


    With a stiff breath, he sat down.


    Wasting no time, Rufus clamped the cables to his augments.


    "This is gonna hurt. The sniffer forces your core to spike output¡ªsharp-like. Reads what¡¯s in ya so we don¡¯t gotta find out the physical way."


    "Just let me know before¡ª"


    "Huh?"


    Rufus threw the switch.


    Levi¡¯s jaw clenched, his breath ripping from his throat.


    ''Motherfucker!''


    White-hot vapor slammed through him. His veins bulged, body locking up as the sniffer hissed and clicked, its metal shell vibrating like a struck bell.


    Ding!


    The pressure stopped, but the ghost of it lingered in his bones like a fire that wouldn¡¯t go out. Even though it had only lasted a moment, it felt like his whole body had been torn apart from the inside.


    ''Body?''


    His breath froze. His eyes dropped to his arm¡ªthat hunk of metal latched to his shoulder¡ªand a horrible dread started crawling up his spine. His gaze swept over the rest of him, a sick feeling churning in his gut.


    ¡°What¡¯s it say?¡±


    ¡°Give it a sec.¡±


    The machine whirred and buzzed, spitting out a strip of paper. With a final ding, the paper cut off, and Rufus plucked it free. He pulled a pair of specs from his jacket, holding them up as he started reading.


    "...Well, shit."


    That''s all he said. Just that. His brow tightening as he kept reading, eyes flicking across the page.


    Levi¡¯s stomach twisted tighter.


    ¡°Well, say somethin¡¯.¡±


    Rufus cleared his throat, slow-like.


    "You¡¯re fine, kid."


    He avoided Levi¡¯s eyes as he handed him the paper.


    "Just a bit more than we were expectin''."


    Levi snatched it quick, too distracted to notice Rufus palming the torn-off end. Turning it over, he tried to read, struggling with the words.


    ¡°Un¡­known sor-source.¡±


    He paused, jaw clenching.


    ¡°That means they¡¯re prototypes, right?¡±


    The fun had been sucked clean outta the room. Rufus¡¯s usual smirk was gone, his face drawn tight.


    "Basically everything you got is one. Your arm, shoulder, and chest? All prototype tech. But that ain¡¯t the real surprise, kid."


    Levi¡¯s grip on the paper tightened.


    "You ain''t finished. You got augments you can''t even use yet."


    That cold dread inside him turned to ice.


    They did more. More than he realized. More than he could feel.


    ¡°What else did they do?¡±


    Rufus sighed, like he didn¡¯t wanna say it.


    "Besides your arm, they enhanced your muscles and bones. You got an inorganic mesh overlay¡ªI got somethin¡¯ like it myself¡ªbut if it¡¯s prototype, I got no clue what its limits are."


    Levi swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists.


    "And..."


    Rufus hesitated, his voice catching for just a flicker.


    "Your eyes and spine have been replaced as well."


    Silence.


    Spine.


    Eyes.


    It hit like a gut punch. A tingle ran down his back¡ªsharp, crawling, wrong. Like something buried under his skin was finally stirring. Painful. Disgusting.


    Levi went pale. Covering an eye with one hand, the paper crumpling in the other, the room started closing in.


    Ripping the clamps off, he turned, and threw up.


    Sighing heavy, Rufus rubbed his temples, wishing Edmond hadn¡¯t been the one to head to town. As much as dealing with Sister Moira wasn¡¯t his idea of a good time, it sure as hell beat sitting here dealing with this.


    "You okay, kid? I know it¡¯s a lot, but trust me, it ain¡¯t that bad. I''ve seen much worse, look at Mad Gear."


    "I¡¯m okay."


    Levi wiped his mouth, sitting back up, his face carved from stone.


    "Why can¡¯t I use ¡®em if I got ¡®em, then?"


    Shocked by his quick turn around, Rufus bit back a grin, thinking it over. He knew the kid¡¯s chances would jump if they got his augments tuned right¡ªso he had to take the gamble.


    "Ain¡¯t sure. But I know just the lady to ask about it. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get you changed."


    "Changed?"


    "Can¡¯t have folks recognizin¡¯ ya. Gotta fix you up with a disguise."


    Rufus smirked, that wicked little gleam in his eye that made Levi¡¯s blood run hot.


    "I ain¡¯t wearin¡¯ a dress."


    "You¡¯re no fun."


    Rufus turned on his heel, heading for the stairs, Levi followin¡¯ with a scowl burning deep on his face.


    As he followed Rufus up the stairs, his jaw tightened, his breath slow and controlled¡ªbut inside, coals were burning.


    ''Not much of me left to hate ¡®em proper¡­ but I¡¯ll make damn sure they pay for what they took.''


    As he left the mine, climbing the stairs to the house, the wooden planks creaking under his boots, a sound caught his ear, deep and steady.


    The bells. From up at the cathedral. Their chime cut through the midday quiet, like the town itself was breathing.


    ----


    The Cathedral of Saint Oswin the Unyielding, towered over Denton, its spires punching up at the sky, belching smoke and steam like some great iron beast. Brass and blackened iron framed its hulking silhouette, every inch carved up with the sacred marks of the Church¡ªshields, swords, and crosses all tangled together like roots in dry soil.


    The stained-glass windows caught the last light of day, Saint Oswin and Maria Machina casting their golden glow down on the square like they were watching over the town themselves.


    The place breathed.


    Steam-Powered Organs let various notes, pipes exhaling steady bursts of vapor, like the walls had lungs. The clock tower ground on with the weight of centuries, ticking out time slow and certain, each chime rolling through the streets like a judge¡¯s gavel.


    To folks in Denton, this place weren¡¯t just a church. It was the hand of the law, the weight of judgment, and the promise of mercy¡ªif you could pay for it.


    The poor came begging to the Nuns of the Divine Hand, the broken dragged themselves to the Vaporguard workshops, and the guilty whispered their sins into steam-heated confessionals, their wrongdoins swallowed up by the hiss of God''s work.


    Every last bolt and pipe in this place was a reminder¡ªthe Church owned this land, same as the dirt, same as the folk walking on it.


    And today, the bells were ringing, not to keep time, but to remind folks that time didn¡¯t stop for any man¡ªonly for God.


    And at the base of those stone steps, Edmond stood, just looking up at it. His jaw set, eyes trailing from the gilded cross perched way up top to the iron doors sitting heavy at the front.


    The damn thing looked the same as ever, but today, it felt¡­ different.


    ''Been too long.''


    Too long since he¡¯d set foot inside. Too long since he let himself wonder what might be waiting on the other side.


    His mouth pressed into a thin line.


    "Damn it, Moira. Why haven''t you sent word?"


    With one last look, Edmond squared his shoulders and started up the steps.

 Chapter 12: A Razors Edge

    Chapter 12: A Razors Edge


    At the side of the giant iron doors, a smaller door sat tucked away for easier access. That¡¯s where Edmond was headed. He paused at the latch, his hand hovering over the worn metal.


    His face, lined with age and dusted with old regrets, seemed even more weathered in the midday light.


    With a slow breath, he firmed his grip and pushed it open, taking off his hat.


    Heat rushed, thick and heavy, rolling over him like the exhaust of a steam engine. The scent followed close¡ªincense and hot metal, like prayers and machinery had mingled so long they¡¯d become one.


    Edmond¡¯s nose twitched, the old familiarity of it hitting him harder than he liked.


    The main hall stretched wide before him, rows of pews lined beneath vaulted ceilings of black iron and gold. Even without a service, the place had life¡ªsoft murmurs of prayer drifting from scattered parishioners, the quiet steps of nuns moving through the haze of candlelight.


    At the far end, framed by the great stained-glass window, stood the towering statue of Saint Oswin the Unyielding. Carved from dark stone and inlaid with veins of polished brass, he towered over the altar, his massive shield resting at his feet, his hammer gripped tight. Steam hissed from hidden vents at the base, keeping the metal warm, making it seem like the saint was breathing, watching all who stepped inside.


    Edmond exhaled slow, clenching his fists. Monday meant no sermons¡ªjust a few faithful kneeling before the altar, whispering to a God they hoped was listening. And somewhere in all this was the one he¡¯d come for.


    Spotting a nun he recognized, Edmond stepped forward, ready to speak¡ªbut a familiar voice stopped him cold.


    "Lieutenant Thatcher. A rare pleasure. You¡¯ll forgive me, of course, if I note how seldom you grace these halls. It is, after all, a place of refuge¡­ for those who seek it.¡±


    ''Just my luck.''


    He swallowed the sigh before it could show, his face settling into something respectful, unreadable. Turning slow, he dipped his head just enough to be polite, holding his hat to his chest.


    "Bishop Fletcher."


    Edmond took in the man before him, every inch of him as precise and polished as the cathedral he lorded over. The man didn¡¯t just wear authority¡ªhe was it.


    Tall, lean, and untouched by the Red River sun, Fletcher¡¯s pale skin looked like it belonged in a monastery, not the frontier. His jet-black hair, streaked with gray at the temples, was slicked back neat, not a strand out of place. That face¡ªsharp as a razor, all high cheekbones and a thin, unsmiling mouth¡ªhad the kind of look that made a man second-guess himself even when he knew he was right. And those eyes¡ªcold, piercing blue¡ªweren¡¯t the eyes of a man who ever doubted his own righteousness.


    His robes were just as pristine as the man himself. Black and gold, embroidered with the sigils of the Church¡ªcrosses, gears, and the hammer and shield of Saint Oswin.


    The polished silver cross embedded in the back of his left hand caught Edmond¡¯s eye. It wasn¡¯t just decoration. Edmond had seen that hand at work, fixing augments with the same precision it could take a life with. Healing and killing, wrapped up in one symbol.


    Five years. That¡¯s how long Fletcher had been in Denton. Five years of pressing his influence further into the town, into the hearts of its people. Five years of trying to sink his claws into his orphanage.


    Edmond had held firm. The church had its hands in damn near everything else, but not his home. Not his kids.


    And Fletcher? He didn¡¯t much care for things he couldn¡¯t control.


    "Pardon me for not catching up, but I¡¯ve got business."


    Edmond gave a curt nod and turned to leave.


    "Would you spare just a moment? I would be ever so grateful, Lieutenant."


    Knowing he couldn¡¯t push it without risking offense, he sighed through his nose and stopped.


    "I can spare it."


    "I know we¡¯ve not seen eye to eye since my arrival, and I do admit that is largely due to my persistence. But I¡¯d like to remedy that, if you¡¯ll allow it. I wish to extend a new offer¡ªone I believe we can both agree on."


    "No need, Bishop. My mind¡¯s set. No sense wasting words on it."


    "I assure you, Edmond, my words are never wasted."


    The calmness in his voice set Edmond¡¯s hackles up. Just for a moment, his fingers wished for his sabers. The feeling passed as quick as it came, but the weight of it lingered.


    "I simply have the children''s best interests in mind. And surely, ensuring they remain close to the Lord is paramount, is it not?"


    "They attend every service."


    "Of course they do. It¡¯s not their faith that concerns me."


    Heat crawled up the back of Edmond¡¯s neck, but he kept his face unreadable. His patience, however, was wearing thin.


    "I won¡¯t keep you long, so I¡¯ll be plain."


    Fletcher folded his hands, watching Edmond like a man who already knew the answer to his own question.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "I wish to offer the full financial support of the Church, while still allowing you authority over Iron Haven. We would provide complete renovations, expand the grounds to your liking¡ªall at no cost to you."


    Sounded too good. Edmond waited for the catch.


    "All I ask in return is a modest addition¡ªa small residence on-site for a few sisters to stay."


    ''Like hell.''


    The words sat heavy on his tongue, but he swallowed them. Instead, he kept his voice steady.


    "Like I said, Bishop, my mind¡¯s set. Now, if you¡¯ll ex¡ª"


    "I would urge you to reconsider, Edmond. This offer is for the good of the children. You wouldn¡¯t want to put pride before their well-being, would you?"


    There it was. That measured pressure. Like a boot pressed just firm enough against his chest to remind him it was there.


    Edmond turned, meeting Fletcher¡¯s eyes, hard and cold.


    "Pride ain''t the issue, Cornelius."


    Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode off, cursing Moira under his breath as he searched for that nun from earlier.


    Watching Edmond leave, the Bishop didn¡¯t let a single emotion show, but his grip on his robes tightened, the tension in his fingers betraying him.


    "Men like him think their strength alone will see them through. But the only shield a man can depend on is the embrace of the Church."


    "What would you have me do?"


    The voice came from the shadows, smooth and reverent. Stepping forward into the dim light, a young man revealed himself¡ªmid twenties, bowl-cut golden-hair, face carved like a statue of an angel. Beautiful, at least until you looked him in the eyes. Clouded gray, splotched with sickly brown, like rot had set in somewhere deep behind them.


    The Bishop turned to him, his smile warm, almost fatherly, as he reached out and laid a hand on his head.


    "Sweet Michael, not every battle is fought with action."


    His fingers curled slightly, a gesture more claiming than comforting.


    "I already know they won¡¯t make it through winter without help. The Lord himself will guide him down the right path. We need not interfere."


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    Michael bowed deep, but his gaze lingered. Watching Edmond as he spoke with one of the sisters, his lips pressed together in something just shy of a smirk.


    Edmond felt it before he saw it¡ªthat prickle at the back of his neck, like unseen eyes were dragging over him. His shoulders tensed, every instinct telling him to turn, but he fought it down.


    "Thank you, Sister. I appreciate the kindness."


    "Just wait here. And if you truly wish to thank me, Edmond, you could stay for service next time."


    He gave a slow nod but said nothing. Instead, he turned, acting like he was admiring a painting.


    ''Need a drink.''


    As he stood there, his thoughts drifted to Levi and Rufus, a fresh wave of impatience settling in his chest.


    ''Shouldn¡¯t have left those two. Not that I could¡¯ve brought them.''


    Cursing his circumstances and picturing the worst waiting for him back home, he forced himself to sit before the itch to pace got the better of him.


    Edmond sat there, eyes fixed on the statue of Saint Oswin, doing his best to ignore the hushed whispers floating around the cathedral. Gossip about him was nothing new. Long as folks kept their words soft and their distance wide, he didn¡¯t much care.


    Didn¡¯t take long for the other thing to happen, though. Never did.


    "Mr. Lieutenant Thatcher? Can you sign my sword?"


    A small voice piped up beside him. He glanced down¡ªyoung boy, maybe eight, holding a wooden sword like a family heirloom.


    "I don¡¯t do that, kid. Get back to your folks."


    "Please, oh please! When we play, me an¡¯ my friends always fight over who gets to be you. If I had your autograph, I¡¯d get dibs! My father always tells me stories of the Fanged Reaper¡ªyou¡¯re our hero! Plea¡ª"


    "I said no."


    Edmond¡¯s voice dropped, sharp as a whetted blade. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and cutting.


    "Do I need to have words with your pa, boy?"


    The kid froze, eyes going wide before welling up with tears. He turned and bolted without another word.


    Exhaling slow, Edmond settled back against the pew with a dark weight pressing on his chest.


    "I''m no one¡¯s hero."


    He was just about to stand and leave when he heard hurried steps. Turning, he caught a flash of bright green eyes. Sharp and furious.


    Sister Moira.


    And she looked fit to kill.


    ''What¡¯s her problem?''


    Edmond straightened up fast, fixing his shirt as Sister Moira stormed toward him, her green eyes burning hot. His brow softened as he bowed his head.


    "Sister Moira, that kid was just¡ª"


    SMACK!


    His barely moved, but his eyes flashed with shock. Wasn''t long before the slow-burning anger as he pointed his hat at her.


    "What in the damn hell was¡ª!"


    "You''re a scoundrel, Mr. Thatcher!"


    Moira¡¯s voice rang through the cathedral, sharp as a switch.


    "Nerves of steel ya have, showin'' your face here after the stunt ya pulled!"


    Then, in a breath, her tone dropped low¡ªquiet enough only for him.


    "Say nothin'' and play along."


    His mouth opened, but she cut him off, voice lifting back up for the crowd.


    "I''m a sister of the faith! I''ll not be treated like some prized catch!"


    Then, another whisper.


    "I¡¯ll come by tonight."


    SMACK!


    ''Son of a¡ª!''


    "Leave at once! Only return when you''re ready to repent!"


    Her finger jabbed toward the exit, but he caught the softest whisper slip through.


    "Sorry."


    Standing there a second, Edmond felt like he¡¯d been led into a blind canyon with a loaded bolter at his back. He turned slow, walking toward the exit, his face set like stone.


    That¡¯s when his eyes locked with Michael''s.


    The bastard had been watching him the whole time, those clouded, rotten eyes taking in every damn thing.


    ''So that¡¯s what that was.''


    As he passed, he murmured just loud enough for only Michael to hear.


    "Might want to blink, that look''s showing your hand."


    Michael just smiled, tilting his head slightly before bowing deep, keeping his silence.


    As Edmond stepped outside, he put on his hat, feeling a weight peel off his back the second the sun hit him. He rolled his jaw, flexing the heat from his cheek, still wondering what in the hell had just happened.


    ''This thing''s getting messy.''


    Walking down the steps, he pressed the cold steel of his hand to his cheek, sighing as the sting lingered.


    "Didn''t figure on getting slapped today."


    Back inside, Sister Moira moved with purpose, her heart hammering in her chest. But she barely had left the great hall before her path was blocked.


    Michael stood before her, his face the picture of innocence¡ªif innocence had eyes like spoiled milk.


    "What was that about, Sister? Violence in a house of God?"


    "Out of my way, Brother Michael. It was a personal matter between Mr. Thatcher and me. One that I have seen to and do not wish to speak on further."


    She moved to push past him, but as her shoulder brushed his, a chill ran down her spine¡ª unnatural, unwelcome.


    Michael lingered, tilting his head slightly, his gaze dragging over her like a brand.


    "The furnace must purge the weak steel, lest its imperfections taint the whole."


    His lips barely moved as he spoke, quoting scripture with the ease of breath.


    Moira didn¡¯t respond. She wouldn¡¯t give him the satisfaction.


    Swallowing her unease, she kept walking, quickening her pace as she turned the corner. Out of sight, she leaned against the steel-plated wall, letting the warmth seep into her back.


    ''I hate talkin'' to that man. I¡¯ve never met a thing that made me feel such dread, like I''m talking to somethin'' hollow.''


    Her fingers curled against her habit as she exhaled slow, steadying herself.


    ''Why couldn¡¯t Edmond have waited? Now I have to be careful tonight. If they start to notice me, they¡¯ll notice them. I have to tell him now, before I leave¡­''


    She shook her head, biting back a tired smile.


    "Stupid man. You bring me problems, then make ¡®em worse."


    Pushing off the wall, she straightened her posture, smoothing her skirts before continuing down the hall, her steps light but her mind heavy.

 Chapter 13: No Rest for the Damned

    Chapter 13: No Rest for the Damned


    "Please, tell me I¡¯m dreaming."


    The market square was alive with the usual racket¡ªfolks chatting, haggling, and stirring up dust as they went about their business. Edmond had taken the long way back, hoping a quiet stroll might cool his temper. Instead, it had the opposite effect¡ªnow he was sitting somewhere between panic and murder.


    Right in the thick of it, making a damn spectacle, was that bald-headed bastard he called a friend. Rufus.


    Bowing, flirting, talking up a storm like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world, puffing on a smoke like he owned the place.


    That alone was enough to piss Edmond off. Rufus was supposed to be back at the orphanage, watching the kids. But what really put the nail in the coffin was the beacon of what the hell is that following close behind him.


    A figure, draped head to toe in fur.


    ''A bearskin. He put the kid in a goddamn bearskin.''


    Of course, Edmond knew exactly who it was. Levi. But for the life of him, he couldn¡¯t figure what the hell Rufus was thinking.


    Seeing the path they were taking, Edmond moved ahead, slipping into a narrow alley just before they passed.


    "Imma kill him."


    Didn¡¯t take long for the idiot parade.


    "Come here!"


    Edmond¡¯s hand shot out, grabbing Levi by the arm and yanking him off his feet like he weighed nothing. He tossed the boy into the alley, the kid hitting the ground with a grunt, the heavy bearskin sliding half off his shoulders.


    Rufus, mid-drag on his smoke, choked so hard a burst of vapor shot from his nose. Some poor bastard passing by saw the look on his face and damn near ran in the opposite direction.


    "Move!"


    Rufus jumped like he''d been shot, cast a quick glance around, then hurried into the alley.


    "Fancy meetin¡¯ you here. What¡¯s the word from Sister Moira? We were just headin¡¯¡ª"


    His voice cut off the second Edmond leveled him with that look. That don''t you fuckin'' try me look.


    Levi ripped the bearskin off the rest of the way, jumping to his feet. For just a second, the scene itched at him, like maybe this was what it felt like when kids got caught by their folks doing something dumb.


    His eyes flicked to Rufus, who shot him a look that screamed well, we got caught. Levi, in turn, gave him one right back¡ªthis was your stupid idea.


    Edmond inhaled deep, trying real hard to keep from knocking both their heads.


    "Explain. And it better make sense."


    "Then you got no worries, ¡¯cause it definitely makes sense. See, we was just¡ª"


    "Not you."


    Rufus shut his mouth as Edmond turned to Levi, eyes like iron.


    "You. Explain."


    Behind Edmond, Rufus flailed his arms in frantic silence, like maybe he could stop the kid from saying something that¡¯d dig them deeper.


    Levi ignored him.


    "I got more augments than I thought. They replaced my eyes and my spine, messed with other parts. Rufus says I''m not finished, can''t use none of it. So he''s takin¡¯ me to someone who can help."


    Edmond caught it¡ªthe weight in Levi¡¯s eyes, the sharp edge in his voice. It stopped him short.


    The bearskin was stupid, sure, but what this kid was going through? That was something else.


    His stomach knotted. His spine. His eyes. He thought of the kids back at the orphanage, hell, thought of Nathan. Picture the kid sitting in a chair, some stitcher pressing a scalpel to his back, cutting out pieces, replacing them with blacksteel like he was just some damn machine to tinker with. The image curdled something deep in Edmond¡¯s gut.


    His fingers twitched. They wanted violence.


    He took a slow breath to steady the burn in his chest. The kid was still here. He was still fighting. That counted for something.


    With a sigh, he pulled off his hat, running a hand through his hair as he let go of his anger.


    ¡°Sorry, kid. Should¡¯ve tested ya sooner. And it¡¯s my fault for leaving ya with someone whose brain¡¯s rusted clean through. Guess we¡¯re lucky he didn¡¯t make ya act like a bear.¡±


    ¡°Plenty of mountain folk wear bearskins! No one was suspicious¡ªhell, they even complimented him!¡±


    Edmond shot him a look sharp enough to cut steam pipe.


    ¡°What part of seen by no one don¡¯t you get? And since when did teenagers start struttin¡¯ around in bear hide? You really think this smooth-faced kid made a lick of damn sense¡ª¡±


    ¡°Can we quit this?¡±


    Levi¡¯s voice cut through the air, cold and flat. His eyes burned dark as he looked between them.


    ¡°Standin¡¯ here arguin¡¯ ain¡¯t helpin¡¯ shit.¡±


    Edmond exhaled slow, then turned to Rufus.


    ¡°Where were you taking him?¡±


    ¡°Wait¡ªso we¡¯re not headin¡¯ back?¡±


    ¡°Not asking again.¡±


    Making quick work of explaining his plan, Rufus spilled about the shipyard. Edmond knew exactly who he had in mind. It was a dumb idea¡ªhell, one of his worst¡ªbut instead of telling Rufus that, Edmond looked straight at Levi.


    ¡°From now on, don¡¯t follow his ideas. C¡¯mon.¡±


    As he stepped past Levi, he dropped his hat right onto the kid¡¯s head, the brim damn near swallowing his face.


    ¡°Carry the bearskin. Keep that metal hand hid in it. Last thing we need is people getting curious.¡±


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    Levi adjusted the hat, his grip tight, but he didn¡¯t argue. Didn¡¯t even look at Edmond, just nodded once and fell in step beside him.


    Behind them, Rufus let out a low whistle, tugging on his smoke.


    ¡°Hat suits ya, kid.¡±


    Levi shot him a look that could¡¯ve peeled paint. Edmond ignored them both, leading them deeper into the alley.


    Pulling a flask from his vest, Rufus huffed and took a long swig like a man who just lost his favorite pet. Muttering under his breath, he followed behind as Edmond and Levi led the way.


    "Not my fault the kid listened."


    Keeping to the back alleys and empty streets, they made good time to the shipyard. Too good. A prickle crept up Rufus¡¯s neck, that old sense of being watched. He turned slow, just in time to catch Levi staring him down, eyes sharp as knives.


    Rufus coughed, taking a long drag of his smoke.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t never been much for directions.¡±


    Levi said nothing. Just shook his head like he was re-evaluating every choice he¡¯d made since meeting this man.


    The shipyard sprawled ahead, a beast of iron, wood, and steam. Thick pillars of smoke curled from its forges, the scent of hot metal and river mud mixing heavy in the air. Sounds of hammering steel and hissing pipes carried over the city.


    Levi¡¯s boots hit the dust-caked boards, his pace steady, shoulders tight. The heat of the place clung to him, thick and stifling, but he barely noticed. His focus stayed ahead, past the smoke, past the noise¡ªstraight to whoever the hell they were taking him to.


    His eyes flicked to a battered signboard, the words cut deep in the wood.


    Fairweather Shipyard.


    Didn¡¯t matter. Just another place between him and what he needed. His fingers flexed at his sides, impatience grinding in his chest. Every step here was one step closer to what was owed.


    The shipyard sprawled along the river, a mess of towering workshops and scaffolds, the air was thick with the hiss of steam and the clang of metal on metal. Men moved like worker ants, the whole place humming with the sound of labor.


    Levi¡¯s eyes swept over the crowd, noticing quick how many of them had augments¡ªarms built for lifting, legs built for balance, eyes that flickered with amber glow as they measured and cut. His curiosity flared, pushing through the rage sitting in his gut. If the owners here could afford these type of men, how bleeding rich were they?


    They made their way down a long gangway, the river stretching out below, dark and rippling under the midday sun. Rufus, feeling sheepish, took it upon himself to start rambling.


    ¡°This place belongs to the Fairweathers. Second richest family in these parts. Decent folks, if ya ask me.¡±


    ¡°No one did.¡±


    Levi shot back, not giving him an inch.


    Rufus ignored him, his grin easy, but Levi caught the slight flicker of guilt in his eye before he pointed to a massive ship rolling out from one of the workshops.


    ¡°That there¡¯s a decommissioned naval vessel. They drag ¡®em up from the gulf, strip ¡®em down, rebuild ¡®em. Got a contract with the military¡ªturnin¡¯ old warships into fishin¡¯ rigs, cargo haulers, that sort.¡±


    The ship moved slow, parting the water in smooth waves. Its hull was reforged with fresh Blacksteel plates, steam pipes running along its length like veins. The deck bristled with Vaporguard cranes and winches, the Church¡¯s mark still visible in places¡ªworn carvings of the sacred cross on the metal bow, a rusted engraving of some saint barely visible beneath a fresh coat of paint. Levi¡¯s eyes locked onto it, something tight pulling at his chest.


    He kept watching behind him, so long that he barely caught himself before slamming into Edmond¡¯s back.


    Holding the hat steady, he backed up, his breath near hitchin¡¯ as he realized they stepped into the massive structure. The workdock stretched out before him, a cathedral of steel and timber, its arched roof held up by a maze of thick rafters.


    The air was alive with the hiss of steam and the grind of machinery, cranes puffing vapor as they hauled slabs of Blacksteel and ship parts through the cavernous space.


    Edmond moved ahead, leading them down a gangplank deeper into the chaos. Workers bustled past, their boots clanking against the wooden walkways, their faces tight with focus. More than a few threw irritated glances their way, but none stopped them.


    Levi kept his head low, hat brim dragged down. He felt the weight of eyes all the same.


    Then Edmond slowed some, his voice cutting through the noise.


    "Hey! Jim!"


    Levi followed his gaze and landed on the man in question. He wasn¡¯t the owner, that much was clear¡ªno rich bastard wore his coat ragged or his boots scuffed near through. No, this man had worked his way up with his own two hands, and it showed.


    Leaning in to continue his penance, Rufus whispered.


    "That''s Jim Hardwick, he''s the foreman."


    Jim Hardwick was built like a damn anvil¡ªbroad shoulders, a thick chest, and a gut that spoke of a man who ate well but still earned every meal. His beard was heavy with grey, wiry as ship rope, and his blue eyes cut sharp beneath a battered hat.


    A pair of goggles sat perched on the brim, and his coat¡ªworn tan leather, stained with grease and soot¡ªhung open to reveal a vest and scarf, the whole getup practical but well-worn.


    Tools lined his belt, a knife handle peeking from his side, and his hands¡ªscarred, strong¡ªrested easy in front of him, fingers laced like a man who didn¡¯t move fast unless he had to.


    Even from a distance, Levi could feel it. The weight of authority, not from birthright, but from being the kinda man others listened to ¡®cause he¡¯d seen it all and still had the grit to keep going.


    Edmond had hollered something Levi didn¡¯t catch, but whatever it was, the foreman gave a short nod and pointed further in.


    Before they moved on, though, Levi felt an itch at the back of his neck¡ªhe caught the way Jim¡¯s eyes lingered on him just a second too long. Keeping his step steady, he didn¡¯t look back. Only when the foreman turned away, getting back to work, did he let out a slow breath.


    "Don''t cross that man."


    Rufus''s voice was unusually flat. No joke, no smirk¡ªjust a plain fact.


    They wound their way deeper into the shipyard, past stacks of steel plating and half-built hulls, till they reached a small shop tucked into the back. The window was covered with a slab of sheet metal, bolted down like someone didn¡¯t trust glass to do the job. The door? Looked damn near like a vault, thick and reinforced.


    "This the place?"


    Rufus let out a slow drag, blowing smoke through his nose as he gestured to the door.


    "Behold, kid¡ªyour one shot at salvation. Well¡­ maybe not your only shot, but she¡¯s the best you¡¯re gonna get."


    "She?"


    Before Levi could press, the shop answered for him.


    Boom!


    A sharp blast rattled the shutters, smoke belching out through the cracks. Levi took a step back, half-expecting the whole damn thing to come apart, but no one, not even the workers so much as flinched. Edmond kept right on walking, Rufus didn¡¯t even slow.


    CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!


    Edmond banged his fist against the heavy door, like the smoke pouring out of it didn¡¯t exist. They stood there a moment, the air thick with soot and grease, before he lifted his hand to knock again.


    A box above the door crackled, then a raspin¡¯, mechanical voice wheezed through.


    "It¡¯s¡ªcough¡ªopen."


    Edmond pushed the door open, hinges screeching like barn owls. Watching him and Rufus stroll in like none of this mattered made Levi¡¯s skin burn.


    Stepping through the smoke, Levi grit his teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.


    The augments, the damn bearskin, now some crackpot who couldn''t keep from blowing themselves up¡ªevery bit of it felt like a delay he couldn''t afford. He needed this done. He needed to move, to fight, to feel his body answer him like it ought to.


    And the stitcher who did this to him?


    He needed killing.


    ----


    Four stories beneath the place Levi had clawed his way out of, where he¡¯d bled and burned and begged to survive, the walls still dripped with blood and steam. The screams hadn¡¯t stopped.


    They never did.


    Down here, past the mission halls and below the sanctuary, the air carried suffering like a hymn¡ªvoices stretched thin, broken, then silenced in perfect, practiced intervals.


    Ingrid stood in the center of it, naked as the stone around her, arms raised, fingers twitching like a conductor guiding her unseen symphony. Each scream sent a tremor through her body, her breath coming sharp, erratic. When the cries hit their peak, her body seized, her eyes snapping open in rage.


    ¡°Nein! Nein! Nicht ganz da!¡±


    She lunged for the radio, twisting the dial so hard it cracked, plunging the room into silence. Panting, she clutched at her breast, nails digging in, drawing thin lines of red. The pain soothed her, made her whole again.


    She shuddered.


    ¡°Soon, mein Liebste¡­¡±


    Across the room, a native woman hung nude and limp, bolted to the wall, her arms stretched, her eyelids removed. She couldn¡¯t look away. Blood streaked her cheeks, painting her face in ghostly trails.


    Ingrid approached, slow, savoring. Her hands trailing down to the warmth between her legs.


    ¡°Once I add your voice."


    She leaned in, whispering, brushing a wet finger along the woman¡¯s jaw.


    "I¡¯ll finally have my harp."


    With a soft whir, panels slid open in Ingrid¡¯s palms. Thin blacksteel whips uncoiled, clicking into place, draping down her arms like living serpents.


    The first scream hit like a blade, raw and unrelenting. Then came another, rising, twisting, turning into something near music. Ingrid let it wash over her, let it fill the chamber, let it move through her. Every note of agony, every sharp edge of suffering, it all built into something perfect¡ªuntil¡ª


    The intercom crackled, splitting the moment in two.


    ¡°Ingrid.¡±


    Dr. Ashbourne¡¯s voice came smooth, measured, untouched by the sound below.


    ¡°Come to me.¡±


    Her breath caught. The heat in her chest rolled downward, pooling deep, her thighs slick with the evidence of it. The scream behind her wavered, cracked. She exhaled slow, rolling her shoulders, letting the tension unravel through her fingers and bloody whips.


    "Yes, mein doctor."

 Chapter 14: The Devil’s Work

    Chapter 14: The Devil¡¯s Work


    "Hmm mmhm mmmm mhmhm¡­"


    Ingrid hummed, her symphony still alive inside her, each note rolling through her ribs, curling in her throat like the final tremor of pleasure. She breathed it in, the echoes of agony still throbbing beneath her skin, warm and sticky. Her fingers, still trembling from the aftershocks, curled over the damp fur draped over her naked body.


    The stone beneath her bare feet was cold, but not enough¡ªnothing would be enough to cool the fire simmering inside her. It wasn¡¯t just her music¡ªit was His.


    And He would hear it soon.


    At the top of the stairwell, she tapped against the hidden door. A soft click answered, the wall shifting open. She stepped inside as a disciple entering a shrine.


    Then, she knelt.


    ¡°Your grace?¡±


    Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.


    Ingrid remained still, head bowed deep, hands placed neatly in her lap. Waiting. The warmth still curled in her belly, but already, a chill had started to creep along her spine.


    The air shifted as he stopped before her.


    Dr. Ashbourne¡¯s robes barely rustled, but she could feel the weight of his gaze. The mechanical whir of his eye ticked once, adjusting, studying her. The heat in her chest faltered, breath stilling in her throat.


    Then¡ªhis hand. Resting, firm, atop her head. The weight of ownership.


    ¡°Did I interrupt you?¡±


    The question was calm, but not a question at all.


    Ingrid shivered, pressing her palms tighter to her lap.


    ¡°Impossible."


    His fingers tightened. Just slightly.


    Her breath froze. Then, softer¡ªhis touch slid to her chin, lifting it just enough for her lips to part.


    Approval? Or judgment?


    She didn¡¯t know.


    His green eye whirred, and for a moment, there was only silence.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°I think I may have misjudged something.¡±


    The warmth inside her died.


    Her stomach lurched before she even understood why. Her fingers twitched against the furs on her body, breath locking inside her throat like a caught note.


    She had done something wrong.


    Terror swelled before her mind could catch up.


    ¡°Tell me what I can do. The doctor must not be burdened with doubt. He must be free to work God''s miracles.¡±


    His grip did not change.


    No reassurance. No warmth. Only the silence.


    ¡°Where is Subject 231?¡±


    A shudder ran through her.


    ¡°I¡ªI...¡±


    Her voice cracked, her throat suddenly so dry she could barely force the words.


    ¡°231¡ªI am sure we will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why are you playing with your instruments when you should be looking for him?¡±


    She could feel the blood drain from her face.


    ¡°¡­Is it my fault, Ingrid? Have I failed you?¡±


    The words hit like a blade.


    ¡°Never! It''s I who have failed you! I will focus all my attention¡ªevery ounce of my being¡ªI will bring him back, I swear it!¡±


    Her breathing turned sharp, frantic. Her fingers burned from clutching too tight. The edges of her vision blurred.


    Dr. Ashbourne exhaled, finally, pressing a firm hand atop her bowed head.


    ¡°Come.¡±


    His fingers curled tight against her skull.


    ¡°Pray with me.¡±


    ----


    With a grunt, Edmond pushed the shop door open, and damn near choked as a thick cloud of black smoke came pouring out like it¡¯d been trapped, begging for escape.


    "Maggie! It''s Edmond and Rufus. We need to talk."


    He called out, waving the smoke away as they stepped inside.


    A few coughs came from the back, followed by a sharp click. Then followed a loud rattle and a deep hum, and all that smoke started moving.


    Levi squinted up at the fan sucking the mess out, finally getting a good look at the place. His gaze dropped, landing on the one person still standing in the middle of it all. He blinked, then frowned.


    "That''s her?"


    He shot a look at Rufus, voice thick with doubt as he tossed the damn bearskin off his shoulders.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "This supposed to be my savior?"


    She was short, wiry, and covered head to toe in soot, like she¡¯d crawled outta the guts of some steam engine. Her wild black hair was stuck up in places, half singed, still smoldering at the ends.


    A pair of brass goggles sat crooked on her forehead, lenses flecked with grease. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing off an arm that wasn''t flesh¡ªblacksteel pistons and polished brass ran down to a clawed hand, still clenching a wrench like she¡¯d been born holdin¡¯ it.


    She was fussing with a strap on her coveralls, muttering curses under her breath as she dusted herself off. Then, with a sigh, she finally looked up¡ªdark eyes, sharp and keen, taking stock of Rufus and Edmond.


    Maggie threw up her hands.


    "Already?! Mon Dieu! How can you be so rough with yourselves? I mean, I do not complain¡ªwork is work¡ªbut zis is ridiculous, no?"


    She shot a glare between the two men, already clearing off a cluttered workspace.


    "Which one? Which one of you fools needs the repair zis time?"


    Edmond shook his head, motioning toward Levi.


    "Not us. Kid¡¯s the one needing help."


    Maggie¡¯s brow creased, her gaze shifting to Levi. Her sharp eyes swept over him, taking in the way he stood, the way he carried himself¡ªthen they landed on the sliver of blacksteel peeking from his wrist.


    Her entire demeanor changed in a blink.


    With a burst of movement, she lunged forward, snatching his wrist like he was something rare and precious. Her fingers traced the cables along his wrist, her eyes gleaming with fascination.


    "Sacrebleu! You are a Waster!"


    Reaching toward the workbench, she flipped a hidden switch beneath it. A loud clunk sounded as the shop door slammed shut, heavy bolts sliding into place.


    "Show me. Vite! Do not tease! Show, show!"


    Levi barely had time to scowl at Edmond before the old man gave him a look¡ªone that said just get it over with.


    Huffing out a breath, Levi yanked off his hat, then his gloves. His fingers hesitated at his buttons, his jaw tight. With a sharp exhale, he unfastened his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders.


    The shift in Maggie was instant.


    Gone was the excitement, the childlike wonder. What replaced it was something heavier¡ªsomething close to shame. Her lips pressed together, her gaze drawn to the raw, crisscrossed scars carved into his skin.


    The scars said plenty on their own. More than Levi ever would.


    Slowly, respectfully, she reached out, running a light hand over his shoulder. The hissing click of her goggles filled the quiet as the lenses whirred and adjusted, pulling her face in close to his augments.


    She murmured, barely above a whisper.


    "Mon pauvre gar?on... What have they done to you?"


    Levi ignored her question, settling on his own.


    ¡°How¡¯d you know I¡¯m a Waster?¡±


    His eyes narrowed as she kept pawin¡¯ at him. He leaned his head back, doing his best to keep from swatting her.


    ¡°Pff, when I saw your wrist, I could tell immediately. Rien¡ªnothing¡ªcomes from the Church unfinished.¡±


    ¡°You could tell just from my wrist? Bullshit.¡±


    Still examining, she grabbed his wrist and raised it, her fingers tracing along the metal like she was reading a story written in steel.


    ¡°Your workings are exposed. You lack any protective outer casing on your augments. No self-respecting artificer would let you leave ze Church looking like zat.¡±


    Levi clicked his tongue. He already knew what she meant, but hearing it out loud made it settle like a bad meal.


    The world had its differences¡ªplenty of them. Even with the British Empire and the Church of the Vaporguard running the whole bloody show, every corner of the world still had its own ways.


    Out in the Far East, dynasties still ruled, holding onto their traditions. In Africa, the tribes still waged war, their pyramids and jungle cities vibrant with life that stretched back farther than history cared to write. In the new world, most of the frontier had been pacified by the Church¡¯s iron grip, yet the land still bucked like an untamed horse.


    The world ran under different laws, different customs¡ªbut one thing held true no matter where you went.


    Augments belonged to the Church.


    No one, no matter how highborn or lowly, got Vaporguard tech without going through the right channels. The installing of augments? The Church controlled it. Pneuma Cores? Only the Church could handle those. Maintenance? Some outside shops were permitted, but every one of them had to be sanctioned, approved, and watched.


    So when someone walked around with half-finished augments, wires bare, work left undone¡ªit only meant one thing.


    Waster.


    And to most folks, that word meant danger.


    "You are not even finished!"


    Maggie spat, rattling off a stream of curses in rapid-fire French.


    "Stitchers butcher the craft like¡ªlike¡ªpah! I do not even ¡®ave the words, but I despise them!"


    "They¡¯re all prototypes."


    Rufus cut in, the unlit smoke bobbing in his mouth as he talked.


    "Our sniffer couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of ¡®em. Figured maybe yours could do better."


    He snapped his fingers, trying to spark a light.


    "No smoking!"


    A wrench shot past Rufus¡¯s head, damn near skinning his scalp.


    "Devil woman! Tryin¡¯ to kill me?!"


    Maggie was already on the move, stepping onto her worktable, eyes flicking across the mess of cables snaking through the ceiling. She bit her lip, scanned, then jumped.


    "Ah-ha! Got you!"


    Snagging a handful of cords, she landed with a thud, yanking them down.


    "My machine ¡®as a bit more bite zan their sniffer. So if you need to pee, now¡¯s ze time."


    "Just do it."


    "Tr¨¨s bien."


    She snapped the clamps on the end of the cords onto his arm, then strutted over to the wall. Levi¡¯s eyes narrowed when he saw what she grabbed.


    A lever. Big as his damn chest.


    "Why the hell¡¯s it so big?"


    "Are you ready, mon petit Waster?"


    Levi set his jaw, sitting himself down on a bench. He shook his head once.


    "Do it."


    Maggie yanked the lever.


    WHOMP.


    Levi''s body locked up like he''d been struck by lightning. His chest seized, his spine arched, and every inch of metal buried in him burned white-hot. The Pneuma Core inside him roared to life, blasting vapor through every limb, flooding augments that weren¡¯t even awake yet.


    Rufus winced, looking away with a grimace. Edmond exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.


    Levi¡¯s vision blacked, then flared. His nerves screamed. His teeth ground together so hard he thought they¡¯d crack.


    Then¡ª


    Ding!


    The machine clicked off. Levi slumped forward, gasping, steam hissing from his body like a busted boiler.


    Maggie was already moving. She stepped over, swiping tools and scrap off a worktable, revealing a clunky machine as it spit out a thin strip of paper. She grabbed the readout with steady fingers, eyes scanning.


    Wide-eyed, her body started to tremble.


    "Merde..."


    Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow gasps. Her eyes jumped between Edmond, Rufus, Levi¡ªthen up to the iron cross bolted to the wall, like it might hold some answer.


    "C¡¯est impossible...Only the devil¡ª"


    "Shit."


    Rufus flicked his smoke, stepping forward fast.


    "Hold on a minute, before you¡ª"


    "His heart!"


    Maggie shrieked, her voice cracking with raw horror.


    "They replaced his heart?! Monstres! Inconceivable!"


    Levi felt the blood leave his body. The room lurched, and his limbs felt like they were filled with air.


    "My h¡ª?"


    He tried to say it, but his mouth wasn''t working, his tongue thick as tar. The words stuck, lost somewhere between his lungs and his throat.


    His eyes snapped down to the cables still clamped to his arm. A jolt of panic lit up his spine, and he ripped them free, jumping to his feet so fast his knees near buckled.


    "Steady, kid¡ª"


    Edmond¡¯s stomach dropped. He¡¯d seen men butchered, seen augments done in ways that¡¯d make God look away. But this? This was something else.


    Edmond reached for him, but Levi moved like a kicked-up rattler.


    A wild kick¡ªhe barely dodged it.


    "Calm down!"


    Rufus lunged in, hands up, but he waited a hair too long. Levi¡¯s elbow cracked against his nose.


    "Little sidewinder!"


    Rufus spat, shaking off the hit as both men grabbed hold, locking him down.


    His face was blank. No fire, no fear, just that hollow, vacant look. Levi fought ¡®em like a machine, like his body was running on instinct alone.


    Maggie pressed herself to the wall, hands clamped over her mouth.


    His heart. They took his heart.


    The thought rattled through her, cold as grave dirt. She¡¯d heard of limbs being swapped, eyes replaced, whole damn torsos reinforced, but¡ªthis¡ªthis was something else. This wasn¡¯t survival. This wasn¡¯t repair.


    ''What was he now?''


    Levi jerked, but Edmond and Rufus had him held fast. His breath came in short, wild bursts, his body shaking under their grip.


    Nobody spoke.


    The weight of it sat heavy in the air, like a storm rolling in slow and thick.


    And for the first time in a long, long while¡ªMaggie felt afraid.