Annalynne finds the cool and peaceful darkness part only to discover she is tied to a chair next to Carrot Mandalay who is likewise bound.
This...this is damn peculiar. Last thing she remembers is sneaking up on Carrot with pistol drawn and Little Shithead in tow and now...
"You're awake. Excellent. Now we can begin."
The voice comes from across the table she has just noticed in front of her.
And the voice itself belongs to...
"Holy fucking saints and pleasant ghosts," she mutters.
The voice belongs to Bill Kellwood.
Bill Kellwood dresses in the finest suits, has the finest shoe leather, and the finest hats and gloves all of which are shipped directly from Alabaster City. This is fortunate because Bill Kellwood is invisible save for a red mustache that slides just a tiny bit up and down as he speaks.
Next to her, Carrot still hasn't gotten over the shock.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck on a fuck," he whispers.
In the pantheon of despicable villains that populate the Thriving Wastes none inspires so much dread as Bill Kellwood. The only rumor repeated more than once considering Kellwood is that he was once a New Pinkerton Mercenary King who proved himself far too reckless, vicious, and depraved for his black-hearted brothers.
Kellwood is also supposed to have a Death Sheriff under his employ.
"Just kill us now, you vile well of the Devil's own ejaculate," sighs Carrot.
"Fear not, fellow. An excruciating end is most certainly that shadow that darkens your future's doorstep but take heart! I have need of you. Both of you."
Annalynne looks down and sees she is still armed. She tests the rope that binds her hands together behind the chair. There is slack. But not enough. Not yet...
The mustache of invisible Bill Kellwood wriggles as he continues, "Carrot Mandalay you have killed your way across the wastes collecting tribute for entry into Mission's Mercy. Annalynne Tuckle, you were once a Representative of Mission's Mercy and may return whenever you want for that fair white haven does not truly believe in banishment."
"Yeah," from Annalynne.
"I have...grown indolent, I must admit. Preoccupied with a great deal of nothing is no way to live a life. I have claimed all that I desire, partaken of the forbidden to a degree that not even the Lord God coming down and shitting himself would cause me to bat a lash, and amassed more terrified loyal followers than I frankly know what to do with it. And yet all of this...leaves me wanting. And what I want is what up until now I could not even dream of possessing."
"Mission's Mercy," from Carrot Mandalay.
"Curse me," Annalynne whispers quickly to Carrot.
"Yes. Mission's Mercy," a gloved hand twirls the suspended mustache, "I have tried and failed to lay claim to that gleaming city several times, all my carefully planned machinations embarrassingly rebuffed. It was then I decided-"
"Curse me and I'll take you with me, Carrot," Annalynne whispers again.
"Do you have something to say, Miss Tuckle? I do hope it is of great import because I do not require your tongue."
"Shut up, you fucking bitch! Bill Kellwood is talking!"
A wound opens on her shoulder, blood trickles down.
"Mister Mandalay is a scoundrel too be sure, but he is also a champion of manners it would seem."
"You dumb, fucking cunt! It's bad enough we're caught by Kellwood but then your dimwittedness seeks to enrage him by interrupting the man whilst he's talking? Don't you have a fucking brain in your bitch head, you unforgivably fucked cow!?"
A wound on the forehead, a wound on the rib, a wound on the forearm, and yes! a wound on both wrists. Annalynne begins shifting her hands up and down, up and down.
"Mister Mandalay I appreciate your pursuit of decorum but let us not stoop to rough rudeness and base name-calling."
One hand is almost free, her pouch glows purple. This is it.
"Out! Out, damn cat!"
Little Shithead leaps from pouch to desk, teeth bared and hissing loudly.
Bill Kellwood bolts out of seat and waves his hands in front of a face that isn't there, "Horror! Horror!"
The hand is freed then the other.
A quick draw, three shots into Bill Kellwood's chest, one at the Carrot Mandalay's bonds. She must keep her word. She must.
Carrot draws his own gun, "Did you just kill-"
"Fuck no. It'll take far more than that to end Kellwood."
And then there are footsteps, the high jingling of spurs, and a figure with tin star fashioned to his duster, a figure clutching a shotgun made of bone in both hands, a figure with living wet eyes in a bleached bone skull enters the room.
"Run!"
Annalynne and Carrot bolt out of the tent and find themselves at the top of a plateau. The edge is less than fifty yards away.
"Keep running! Give me a knife! Little Shithead!"
Little Shithead bounds out of the tent faster than damnation and quickly overtakes Carrot and Annalynne. Carrot tosses Annalynne a knife.
With a terrible slash and then a raw more painful one, Annalynne Tuckle cuts off her pinkie finger. She brings it to her lips, whispers secret things to it, and then throws it off the cliff.
"Jump!"
They jump and the finger explodes into a could of black and tan smoke. The enter the explosion but do not come out the other end.
Whatever Annalynne had planned will have to wait. The same could be said of Carrot. Vengeance and sanctuary will have to tarry a while longer. Bill Kellwood and his pet Death Sheriff take priority.
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