Cowboys From Hell

The Deadwood Bounty Board

Savage Tales – The Deadwood Bounty Board

All-Seein’ Eyes
It ain’t like other times, when cattle get taken by mountain cats…or worse. No, them Double-X animals were slaughtered by people. Twelve of ’em in the last three months! Hung up from tree branches by the hind legs, throats slashed open, and almost all the blood gone. Must be collecting it in buckets, the twisted bastards. I hear the mayor offered a $100 bounty for whoever captures the guilty party.

The Ancient One

The Battle o’ Mentor
As the trains start running again, the Great Rail Wars heat up too.

By the Skin o’ the Teeth
Out of the rainstorm a hard-ridden mare gallops down Main Street in a lather. There’s a young lad—12 years old at the most— hanging on to her mane for dear life. They both look played out. The youth gets a wild look in his eyes as soon as he sees people. “Please, Mister!” he hollers. “You gotta help my Paw and Uncle Eli!”

Cult of Worms
In the midst of a series of kidnappings in Chinatown, all occurring in the dead of night, a family member of one of those gone missing contacts the posse for help.

Don’t I Know You?
The town council of Coffeyville has been passing some mighty particular laws lately, governing what sorts of clothing are acceptable to wear around town, how many drinks one can have in a sitting, and even a list of curse words that shan’t be uttered in public.

Frozen Nightmares

Head of Evil, Hand of Fate
A freak show provides respite from the terrors of the trail by displaying curiosities of a more benevolent stripe.

Hell Drive
FREELANCERS, REGULATORS, and BODYGUARDS wanted for dangerous work. Must provide own guns. GOOD PAY, inclusive of three square meals and hazard stipend. Interested parties please inquire of Daniel Prester at the Tin Lamp Hotel.

The Hersey Curse
Some have called the Lebold Mansion the “finest house west of Topeka.” Maybe a few of the more affluent townsfolk are a little jealous. But that doesn’t explain the whispered tales among saloon workers, the gossip of working girls, and the wry conversation going around poker tables at the Bull’s Head—all of it hinting that a few of the workers who built the Lebold Mansion met an untimely end. Some folks swear up and down that Lebold’s new house has a curse on it. They avoid going inside it or even walking under its shadow, and they advise all good people to do the same. Whether they’re right or wrong, their fear is real.

Hickok’s Revenge
“I told ’em! I told ’em all, Bill would be back! He came back once, you know, with a big ol’ hole innis’ head. You don’t look so good, I says to him, and he told me to shut my mouth. And he’s back again, oh yes indeed he is. Whoever hired Jack McCall is about to die, I reckon, because ’ol Bill ain’t hisself these days.”

Holy Warpath
“Gettin’ chased by angry Sioux is what we’re doin’ out here, Mister. That and lookin’ for the leader of our flock, Sister Belinda. She never could stomach the evil that men do to one another, so she tried to step between some soldiers and an old Sioux. She tried to call down a miracle. I—I was lookin’ at her face, and I saw somethin’ break. I saw the sadness in her eyes when it fled. Then she went off screamin’ like a bat out o’ hell, rode north out of Deadwood, and no one’s seen her since!”

Little Brother
“Please, Marshal Barnaby, please help me! He’s not lost in the corn, he’s gone into the Flint Hills, into Indian land! We all know Ned ain’t been the same since his brother August died, wearin’ that preposterous muffler all the time. But now he’s lost on his own and he just needs help. Won’t you help me? Won’t you help my poor Ned?”

Meet the Achesons

Night o’ the Hellscorchers
One of Our Own
Pickman’s Book
Pit Dwellers
Somethin’ About Some Files
Slaughterhouse Special
The Soulflayer
The Spook Juice Massacre
The Stagecoach Robber Rides Again!
They Call Me the Kid
This Hotel Ain’t Big Enough
Thompson’s Plates
Thorn o’ the Rose
The Union Pride

The Last Sons

1. The White Calf
On a stagecoach headed for Deadwood through the Sioux Nations, the posse meets. The stage is waylaid by bandits in the middle of the night, and observant hombres notice a mysterious Iron Dragon train stopped on the distant tracks. Before they can investigate too thoroughly, a wounded Indian emerges from the darkness and begs someone to help him.

2. Dark Doings in Dusky Jewel
Near Deadwood our heroes encounter Union soldiers and irregulars from a force led by Custer. Turns out Ol’ Goldilocks is invading the Sioux Nations to reclaim Deadwood for the Union. The heroes’ stagecoach barely beats Custer’s army into Deadwood.

3. Fortress o’ Fright
4. Vision Quest
5. Prime Cuts
6. The Ghost
7. The Lodge of the Last Sons
8. Hell on the High Plains
9. The Great Medicine Dance
10. Broken Arrow
Epilogue: Quoth the Raven

A Special Run of the Tombstone Epitaph

When the most recent issue of the Tombstone Epitaph hit news stands, it took even its most regular readers by surprise. Billed as a “Special Edition”, the standard array of fantastic articles about the goings on of the American Southwest had been replaced by old articles, strange new articles of untold stories from around West, and even fictions about a time traveling band of adventurers. Although initially off-putting, many of the regulars and a few new readers were soon engrossed by tales of the former Governor summoning a demon only to be defeated by the Last Stand Gang, mysterious strangers saving a young girl from murderous scarecrows, an Indian brave wrestling his friends from the jaws of a Mojave rattler, the death of a murderous psychopath at the hands of the last law man in a post-apocalyptic Tombstone, and one man’s quest to kill the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the Devil to save his daughter, a quest that takes him to the far reaches of space.

On the final few pages of the Epitaph, the stories disappeared and in large font were the words

“The Last Will and Testament of Mary Louise Stokes”

Just below the headline on the left side of the page was a picture of a young girl, probably still a teenager, with dark hair and light eyes. She is pretty but dresses in a boyish manner and seems to carry herself with the air of a practiced killer. It is obvious from her appearance that she has seen more in her few years than any one person should have seen in a lifetime. The article continues after the picture.

My name is Mary Louise Stokes and if you’re reading this I am dead or will be soon enough.
I have lost both of my natural parents to the Hellscape that is the American southwest and have no living relatives save for an absentee grandfather in Savannah and an adoptive mother that runs a brothel in Last Stand. At the time of this writing I am two months shy of my seventeenth birthday, unmarried, and without children. With a shortage of relatives, few living friends, and a lack of worldly possessions, I have very few bequests but those few I have, I would like to make public for the sake of every living person on the Earth. Now for the legalese.

I, Mary Louise, Stokes, of Last Stand, Arizona, being of sound mind and body (in spite of everything that will follow) revoke any former Wills and Codicils and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament.

Article I

Identification of Family

I have no husband, children, parents, or living grandparents save for a grandfather, Ulysses Herschel Walker Danbrook of Savannah, Georgia. All references in this Will to “my grandfather” are references to Ulysses Herschel Walker Danbrook.

Article II

Payment of Debts and Expenses

I have accumulated no debts in my lifetime but should I accrue any after the writing of this Will, they should be first paid from my estate. In the off chance that my corpse is returned to civilization and not left to bleach in the desert sun, I request that my body be burned and the remains given to Sally Mae Whitaker of Last Stand, AZ to be spread about the area of my family farm outside of Last Stand. All arrangements should be paid first from my estate.

Article III

Disposition of Property

A. Special Bequests. I direct that the following specific bequests be made from my estate.

To Lacy O’Malley, of Tombstone, AZ, I bequeath the journal of Ulysses Walker Danbrook, with the special request that copies be made and delivered to The Agency and The Texas Rangers that they made make use of the information within. Also, a copy should be delivered to Sally Mae Whitaker of Last Stand, AZ that she might know the travels of her close friend and partner. After exact copies have been made and delivered, you are free to do with the journal what you will. I trust that you and your companions as the Epitaph will be able to do a great deal of good with the knowledge therein; much better good than I could have done.

To the Lady Luck Society of Shan Fan, California, I bequeath my copy of Hoyle’s Book of Games, 1769 edition that you may use it to keep up the good work.

To Sally Mae, Whitaker of Last Stand, AZ, I bequeath my family land outside of Last Stand to use or sell as you see fit.

To the man, woman, or child that might find my corpse in the desert, I bequeath any of my possessions you might find on me, save for my gun and gun belt.

To a just man who has been wronged by the evil world, I bequeath my gun, the Saint of Vengeance, that you may use it to put your world and the world at large back on the right path or at the very least, to put down any man, beast, or devil that might seek to send it spinning further off the tracks.

To every man, woman, and child of the world, I bequeath the following knowledge: There is evil in the world. Not just the kind that dwells in the hearts of men but the evil you have only imagined in your nightmares. Since the Great Quake of 1863, the world has slowly become the playground for evil spirits that call themselves the Reckoners. They have taken the guise of the the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and with the help of their Servitors, they seek to turn the Earth into a world ruled by chaos and fear. My natural father, Ulysses Walker Danbrook, killed them in the future that he might save my soul from the clutches of the Devil, but in killing the Devil these timeless beings attached themselves to the bodies of their Servitors, men that now terrorize the American West:
- Reverend Ezekiah Grimm of the cannibal cult of Lost Angels, I name you the Servitor of the Reckoner known as Famine.
- The Indian known as Raven, I name you the Servitor of the Reckoner known as War
- Jasper Stone, I name you the Servitor of the Reckoner known as Death.
- Doctor Darius Hellstromme of Hellstromme Industries, I name you the Servitor of the Reckoner known as Pestilence.

Let every man, woman, and child know your sins and the let them judge you accordingly.
Let them seek you out where ever you may hide and show the justice of cold steel, of hot lead, of stone ax, of righteous fury, and of the courage of just and good men.
Let your dying screams be filled with the realization that you have failed to claim our world and let the Devils that reside in your hearts and souls cry out in vain as they are ripped from existence to never terrorize another living being.

Just as there are evil men, there are also good men who have found powers to help them in the fight against the supernatural menace that plagues our world. Faithful men who can summon the wrath of the Almighty, gamblers who have found arcane secrets hidden in plain sight, shaman who can channel the energy of the spirits, even men armed with nothing more than a gun and an honest heart; there are many people I have met or have not met that travel the West, seeking to right wrongs and fight injustice and evil whereever it hides. If you should meet one of these men or women, thank them, give them a place to rest their head and a meal to fill their belly if you can for they have helped each of you in ways you cannot fathom.

To the scientists and governments of the world, I bequeath a warning: beware the use of ghost rock. It will lead to all of our undoing. Choose another path and ignore the voices in your head. They speak only lies.

To the man that hears a scratching at his bedroom door, I bequeath you the courage to open it and face whatever monster awaits you. May you be a torch in the darkness.

To the Indian that has heard the call of the spirits, I bequeath the voice to answer. May you carry the strength of a hundred men.

To the woman who has read the Hoyle’s Book and spotted something “off” in the writings, I bequeath you the curiosity to read on. May the deck always be stacked in your favor.

To the priest who has had his faith shaken, I bequeath the hope to carry on. May you be a voice for those who have been silenced.

To the young boy with a heavy gun in hand, I bequeath the strength to raise your arm, look down the sights, and fire. May your aim always be true.

To Reverend Ezekiah Grimm, I bequeath the wrath of the righteous. May the men and women of true faith wash over you like the flood that carried the Ark.

To Raven, I bequeath the gift of unending war. May the fury of good and fearless men find you wherever you may hide and know that you may count as many coup as you want but our side must only count it once.

To Doctor Darius Hellstromme, I bequeath the knowledge that you will save your precious Vanessa. I also bequeath the knowledge that the day you save her will be the day you lose her forever. May the irony of your pathetic existence suffocate you like the fumes from your putrid smoke stacks.

Lastly, to Jasper Stone, I bequeath the gift of death. The death you gave to Wyatt Earp and his family, John Henry “Doc” Holliday, Ulysses W. Danbrook, Michael and Thomas O’Malley, and countless others will be repaid a thousand fold by my hands. Even if you should kill me, it will be the icy grasp of my dead hands around your ankles that will drag you down into Hell.

The will carries on for several more pages of legalese before arriving at a seemingly out of place line from an old hymn.

Let the circle be broken
By and by, by and by

Stone and a Hard Place

Plot Points
1. Shootout at the OK Corral – Complete
2. The Vengeance Ride – Complete
3. These Hills Run Red – Complete
4. Number 13 with a Bullet – Complete
5. The Battle of Diablo Crater – Complete
6. If You Meet Stone, Pray for Death – Complete
7. Heart to Heart – Complete
8. Saint of Killers
9. God Forgives. Stone Don’t!
10. Stone and a Hard Place

Savage Tales

  • A Lonely Place to Die – Completed
  • Aces Low – Completed
  • Big Iron – Completed
  • Blood Beach
    Cedar City, Nevada – Union soldiers on furlough go missing along the banks of the Great Meadow Wash. The locals have called for freelancers to find them. Fees are negotiable.
  • The Bloodwire Man
    El Paso, Texas – Elsa Nolan offers the posse $100 each to investigate the recent disappearance of a miner named Gus Nolan—her brother.
  • Bounty Board
    Various – The Wild Southwest is full of rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers and Methodists. Least you could do is get paid to take care of some of them.
  • Conquistadors! – Completed
  • Dead Man’s Dance
    Railhead, California – Late one night, a simple roundhouse mishap leads to an unusual round-up.
  • Fangs o’ the Range
    Potential, Arizona – With Garrett Falk’s herds under nocturnal assault, the rancher looks to hire troubleshooters. A broadsheet posted in Potential directs interested parties to Muleshoe Ranch.
  • Graveyard Nights – Completed
  • House o’ the Beast
    Phoenix, Arizona – Folks say the Hohokam tribe left the Phoenix area 400 years ago because they had no water. That’s true, but it omits the culprits responsible for drying up the valley.
  • The Insect People – Completed
  • Line Walkers
    Yuma, Arizona – A Confederate Army broadsheet calls for gunmen willing to provide escort to telegraph line repairmen in dangerous territory. The wage is $15 per day in gold coin.
  • No Humps is Good Humps
    Phoenix, Arizona – Before the War, the U.S. Army experimented with camels in place of horses to withstand the Southwest’s extreme climes. With the outbreak of war the project was abandoned, and the camels released into the desert. But folks kept on telling tall tales about them.
  • The Ones Who Kill Everybody – Completed
  • The Scare Crow – Completed
  • Wages of Death
    Last Stand, Arizona – A ghost rock fire rages in the last mine, and Blackwater Bank and Trust is hiring drivers to deliver nitro – $1000 a man!
Lost Colony

Episode 1: Banshee Screams

Episode 2: Over the Hills and Faraway

Episode 3: Hunger Games

Episode 4: The EXFOR Strikes Back

Episode 5: Bitter Pill

Episode 6: A War to End All Wars

Episode 7: The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed

Episode 8: Will the Circle Be Unbroken?

The Darkest Timeline: HoER

Episode 1: Breaking Out Is Hard to Do?
Waking up in the Blackleaf Correctional Facility with little to no recollection how they got there, the posse makes an easy escape before an encounter with some of the wasteland’s denizens forces them to rethink their plans.

Episode 2: Deja Vu All Over Again
The posse makes a quick detour to Boise to try and reconnect with old friends, only to find the world they woke up in has apparently gone to Hell (well, even more so) in their absence, before making their way to Devil’s Canyon and a strange encounter with a man from their future past.

Episode 3: Cartomancy
Continuing their trek south, the posse finally comes to Junkyard, where Jessie gets himself in trouble with the law and Ulysses gets a troubling tarot reading.

Episode 4: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
In exchange for their freedom, the posse works with the Junkyard militia to stop a plot by the Combine. In the middle of this, they find two things equally troubling: an undetonated ghost rock nuke, and the Man in Black.

Episode 5: The Fool
After clearing things up with Judge Toliver, the posse gains two new members and a familiar face. Heading south toward Last Stand, AZ, Eli and the posse are reunited. The reunion is not without its fair share of difficulties and answers to lingering questions only add more questions to the list.

Episode 6: The Krewe of Rex
The posse is New Orleans bond in search of the Saint of Vengeance but they’ll have to survive Mardi Gras first. With the King of Mardi Gras dispatched, they meet with Mama Tibutu and receive foreboding insight into their future and discover a strange figure following them at a distance.

Episode 7: The House of Stone and Light
Returning to Last Stand, the posse finds more of the Templar swords and tabards staked in the Mourning Star cemetary. Ulysses strikes out on his own to the Grand Canyon while everyone else meets a strange trio of seemingly unstoppable foes.

Episode 8: To Live and Die in LA
The posse comes across the last surviving priest of the Church of Lost Angels, who offers to help them. An encounter with not one but two of the fearmongers residing around LA is only the start of their problems, however, as the mysterious triplets appear and abduct one of their own.

Episode 9: All for One
Eerieness is the name of the day as the posse finally meets their strange stalker and heads off to Neverneverland Ranch to save D’Artagnan from the clutches of none other than the undead Michael Jackson! Afterwards, the two Templars decide to return to Boise to pay their final respects – only to encounter a Horror none of them expected!

Episode 10: How the West Was Wyrd
After the destruction of the Boise Temple, the posse is confronted by Flagg, who seems to reveal the reasons behind his manipulations to Ulysses. In an attempt to free them from the Fates, he sends them to a place where even Fate can’t be touched.

Episode 11: The Greatest Trick the Devil Ever Pulled
Crossing into a dark section of the Hunting Grounds with a little help from a being who may or may not have been Charon the Ferryman of myth, each member of the Posse is confronted by their own worst nightmares. Eventually freeing their old friend O’Malley from his torment and finally finding Mary Lou, one member of the group is forced to make an impossible choice.

Episode 12: Not With a Bang…

The Posse reunites and heads to Tombstone for a massive battle with Jasper Stone.

July 1, 1863. Gettysburg, PA.

The 13th Alabama Infantry have all lined up shots.

The Confederates and the Union have been at war for just about two and a half years now. It’s been a long, bloody, violent war with incalculable loss of American lives and both sides mean to make Gettysburg the turning point. Each of them has amassed a force in the tens of thousands, prepared for what should be the bloodiest battle in the history of the mankind. The night before, all of the soldiers have celebrated. The Rebs sang Dixie and drank deep while the Yanks sat around and roasted marshmallows and told ghost stories. No one wants to admit that tomorrow, most of these young boys will be dead. Those that could write have long since sent letters home to their mothers and fathers, to their sisters and brothers, to their wives and children, to their betrothed. All except the 13th Alabama Infantry. They’re all sent to bed well before nightfall and each one was roused before dawn to dig ditches. They’ve done nothing wrong mind you. Nothing save for being placed under the command of one Jasper Stone.

You see, Sergeant Stone had a reputation for being the meanest cuss in the South. His own men often joked that he couldn’t make friends with the devil which only made him meaner and angrier. He’d often threaten their lives if they didn’t complete menial tasks like digging latrines or scrubbing their boots, or pissing their own pants at gunpoint, all for his own entertainment. Just before dawn, all of the 13th Alabama are digging ditches, save for one Jasper Stone, who sits in his tent, drinking, smoking, and gambling. With himself.

By now, the men have been stewing for months and they’re fed up with the Sergeant’s attitude. By now, they’re already in a killing mood for the imminent battle. By now, maybe they’ve gleaned that they’re going to be the first to charge that dawn. By now, maybe they’ve realized that most of them are going to die. And by now, maybe they’ve come up with a plan to take a little something with them before they go. By now, they’ve realized that despite his talk and his attitude, Jasper Stone is still a man and bullets kill all men just the same.

When dawn finally comes on July 1st, Jasper Stone is the first man to charge at Gettysburg and the 13th Alabama Infantry have all lined up shots.

The road back to Last Stand was long but, with two close friends by my side, it seemed to clip by. It felt good to be back on the road in Arizona, riding in the steam wagon with Eli at the helm and Mary Lou on the H-1000 not far away. I don’t recall looking like an aged Librarian in those days, nor do I recall Eli looking like some sort of Lovecraftian cultist I had time to read a book or two at the Library, sue me but the spirit was all the same. It was a good week. Fitting it should change as we rode into Last Stand.

The sun was just cresting over the horizon at our backs when we turned down the main road. So very little had changed in 200 years that it was almost eerie. The Penelope and the Calypso looked just as I had left them and, in two centuries, no one had taken the time to repaint that old sign above the “Cry a River” Saloon. It was strange taking it all in but the reminiscences would have to wait. We weren’t alone.

There in the crossroads at the center of town were two crucifixes; one holding a man, the other a woman. I knew before I saw them that they were Paul and Sally, just as I knew who the figure was standing on the ground between them. There was no mistaking that tall, lean figure, or the way the dozens of badges clinked together as the duster blew in the wind and only one man “alive” carried old cap & ball Dragoons.

“Danbrook”, spoke that gravelly voice. “Figured I’d find you here.”

I let down the Imposter hex. There’s no sense in hiding. “Jasper Stone. I was wondering when you’d catch up. Here to finish this then?”

“Not quite, gambler. Not here.”

“Then what, Stone? What do you want?”

Stone always had a way of laughing; a low, gravelly cackle somewhere between nails on a chalkboard and Tom Waits gargling asphalt. It had a way of digging under your skin and into your very soul and I hadn’t heard it in two months. This laugh in particularly was a doozy and it took everything in me to keep my cool as he snickered and tossed a small bag on the ground in between us.

“Take that. Take it, find a posse, and meet me in Tombstone in one week.”

My footfalls felt like they weighed a thousand pounds as I approached the bag. I could feel the raw arcane power pulsing from it with every step closer. In my daze I even lost track of Stone but if he’d wanted me dead, I’d be dead. This would play out just how he wanted. Kneeling down, my fingers fumbled for a moment with the ties before the cloth slid away, revealing a black orb. It couldn’t have been larger than a small bowling ball but it had a way of staring at you with its tenebrous, cycloptic gaze that seemed to rattle the earth, like that feeling you get just after lightning strikes outside and shakes the ground beneath you but constant and without end.

Closing the bag I turned back to Jasper. “What am I to do with this?”

“You’ll figure it out, Danbrook. You’re a smart enough man. Now, before I go there’s the matter of these two fools here.” From his pocket, he produced a coin. “Call it gambler.”

As I turned and walked away from there, bag in hand, I headr the unmistakable shink of a coin being flipped through the air. With everything I had left in me, I kept my mouth shut. The orb is back in the saddlebag before the coin hit the ground with a plop.
“I won’t play this game with you, Jasper. I’m done with you. Take your pick and be done.”

Stone was always quick to draw his pistols in a fight but there was no fight to be had here. Slowly, deliberately, he drew his duster back and moved his hands to both guns. He slid both pieces from their leather and raised his arms slowly. He aimed to kill them both.

It was about that time I heard a voice say, “I’m going to try something. Back me up.” I looked up at Mary Lou as she drew her pistols. “Stupid girl,” I said to myself. My next move was unexpected and my target, even less so.


That same old gambling parlor. It smells rotten like it always does. The wallpaper is peeling off to expose rotting walls beneath and its just me. I take a seat at that poker table the way I’ve done a thousand times before and wait. It’s not long before the dealer shows up. He’s ugly. Always so ugly. It’s not the same dealer as I’ve seen before but he’s ugly just like all of the ones before him, and all of the ones that’ll appear after him. He laughs as he sits.

“So what are the stakes, Ulysses?” he asks with a smug satisfaction.

I wish they could all be more original. “I need to stop a spell being cast. You know the rest.”

“One hand. Joker’s wild.”

“They always are. Deal. I’ve got places to be.”

“My pleasure.”

He deals the cards slow. One to me. One to himself. One to me. One to himself. He looks at his cards first. Amateur mistake. I stare at him long and hard before he realizes I haven’t take a peek at my own.

“Don’t you want to see your hand, Ulysses.”

“I’m fine. Just deal the cards. And it’s Mr. Danbrook to you.”

I stare him down for a long time, never once touching my cards. He waits impatiently. This goes on for a while. Finally I see a bead of sweat on his brow. I snatch my cards up quickly and he jumps. They’ve sent a little manitou this time. Their mistake. First round his mine.

A king and an 8. Both clubs. Not the best suit but I’m in. I have to be in. The flop yields the king of hearts, the 8 of spades, and the 7 of hearts. He grins. Pocket 7’s I’m guessing. He’s got me beat but I don’t let him know. The turn pulls a 5. I don’t recall which.

“One last card Mr. Danbrook. Sure you don’t want to fold yet?”

“Do I ever?”

He laughs, burns a card, and pulls the river. King of diamonds. I smile.

“Three of a kind. Your soul’s mine.” He lets his words echo for dramatic effect. Idiot.

“Full house.” I lay my cards on the table and let him realize he’s beat.

He screams. They always scream. The Kings crawl out of the cards and drag him back in, flailing and screaming.

“Stoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop,” he cries. They don’t stop and in a instant he’s gone and so is the gambling hall.


“Stop!” I shout. There in my hand was the full house. The hex went off and foiled Mary Lou’s but my eyes were on Stone. “The boy, Stone. I pick the boy.” I turned away.

One gunshot. I saw the look of horror and anger on Mary Lou’s face but I coudln’t bring myself turn back to look.

“One week, gambler.” And then he was gone.

(Prepare for spelling and grammatical errors from this point forward. It’s 6:30 am. I’ll proofread it later.)

I dug the grave with my own two hands. No hexes or help. I found some shovels in the old general store and picked a spot behind the Calypso. I don’t remember what I was thinking or if I was even thinking at all but a couple of hours later, I pulled the body into the grave.

I picked the dress Sally had been wearing the first time we met to bury here in. It must have been February of ‘76 when that fateful train showed up in Last Stand. Sally was one of the first few to arrive in the wake of Crow, Eli and me reopening the ghost rock mine and our friendship was almost immediate. She needed work and I needed working girls. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman but she had a head for business, a kind heart, and good soul. I’ve never been in love with a woman before but if I ever had, it would have been Sally. We could have had a great long partnership. In the old days I could have never taken her hand in marriage but I could have stayed with her in Last Stand. I could have made that town something and we both could have prospered. She was never the jealous type and didn’t mind my dalliances but it was always her I came back to. After all we had been through together she was gone. Sally was dead and there was no coming back. Stone had ended her and as far as history is concerned, no one has ever returned once he’s put them down.

In one her pockets I found my old deck, the one I had carried with me from Savannah. I almost cried at that.

I found Eli and Mary Lou in the saloon. They’d moved Paul from the crucifix and Eli had cleaned and patched the boys wounds. He’d make it. At least there was some kind of silver lining.

“Eli, leave us.” He stood in place, confused, as he processed my words and for a moment I expected he’d stay but he gave Mary Lou a worried look and left. I shut the door behind him and turned to her. My first instinct was to hit her, to slap her across the face and put her on the floor. I didn’t. She hadn’t killed Sally but she had almost gotten herself killed.

“You idiot child. What the hell were you thinking?”

The look on her face was surprise at first but it was soon replaced by anger. She clearly wasn’t accustomed to taking shit from anyone. In hindsight, I’ve never been prouder of her but pride would have to work its way through humility first. She hadn’t gotten to fire a gun but she’d have a chance to unload her words on me. “I was thinking it’s about time one of us stood up to that monster. More than I can say for you.”

“‘That monster’ isn’t one to be stood up to. He’d have put you down whatever you had tried. I’d be burying three bodies, not just one. Think on that.”

“I’m done thinking. We’ve spent two months thinking and it’s gotten us nowhere. Maybe it’s time we start acting.”

“‘Maybe it’s time we start acting like adults’ is how that sentence ends. You know, I figured that 200 years would have made you wiser but clearly that’s not the case. What did you plan on doing? Shooting him? Shooting Stone? You and I both know how that ends. In the dirt.”

“NO! For your information, Ulysses, I planned on stealing bullets from his own gun and shooting him with them. Maybe he’s weak to his own bullets. Did that ever cross your mind while you ‘slaved’ away at the books for a month?”

She was right. It hadn’t crossed my mind. It should have and I don’t know why it didn’t but she was right and we both knew it. The kill wasn’t far off and I should have quit while I was behind. I didn’t.

“I spent enough time in those books to know a stupid idea from a good one. One of us knows more about Jasper Stone than the anyone else alive and that one of us isn’t you, Mary Lou.”

“Yes, it’s YOU. You’ve always made this about YOU. YOU have to be the one to kill Stone. Bill was YOUR friend and this is YOUR story. YOU were the one to sacrifice their future to save us all. Well newsflash, dad. YOU failed. And while YOU were busy failing, some of us had lives to lead. Bill wasn’t just your friend. He was all of ours. Hell, he was more our friend than yours. In the story of his life, you were just a bump in the road. Maybe YOU should think about that. I’m done here.”

“Fine. Leave. Try not to do anything stupid while you’re out there.”

“No,” she said, “I’ll leave that to you.”

And with that she was gone. I think she slammed the door but I was already lost in my own mind. She’d struck home with everything she had said and she knew it. I knew it. I knew she was right but the taste of crow is seldom a welcome one. I don’t know how long I sat in that room with Paul but it was well after noon before I finally got the nerve to head downstairs.

Mary Lou and Eli were nowhere to be seen so I grabbed a bottle of whatever from behind the bar. Eli had left my saddlebag on lying about when he unloaded the steam wagon. The room was covered in mad science and junker gadgets but I made my way to the place I had sat so many times before, pulled out the cards I had played with so many times before and I drank. I drank and I thought. Somehow, the black orb found its way out of my saddlebags. Or maybe I pulled it out. I don’t recall but one way or another it found its way onto the table and I found myself staring into its murky depths. And as I gazed I found my thoughts wandering.

I thought of the posse we had left behind two months ago in Junkyard. I thought about all of the people we had met in our time in the Wasted West. About the people I needed still to meet. Simon Mercer. Joan the Schismatic. Jo the Templar. The people we had met wehen we first arrived. About everyone we left behind in the Weird West. About the the clockwork cowboy. About Doc Holiday. About the Pinkerton woman we’d met.

About O’Malley.

He was supposed to have met us in Wyoming when we came out the other side. This was all supposed to have gone differently. He was supposed to be here.

When I finally looked up from the orb I reached for my drink. It was full. I thought I had drained it. Oh well, more to drink.

And O’Malley was there.

I had clearly been drinking too much because he couldn’t be sitting across the table from me but there he was. I stared at him for a long time and he stared back before he spoke up.

“You’re late.”

“No, you’re late. And where’s my money?”

“It’s tied up at the moment but you’ll get it. So answer me something, Danbrook. How did I get here?”

“I don’t know, I’m drunk.”

“Well maybe you should sober up because a lot of us are wondering the same thing.”

It was about that time I realized that there was a lot of noise outside of the saloon and it wasn’t just the pounding in my head. Stumbling to my feet, I made my way to the front porch and looked out at a crowd of faces, some strange but most of them familiar. It must have been a full minute before I turned to Eli.

“Eli, who are these people?”

“I was wondering the same thing, Mr. Danbrook. A chime just started playing and they all just appeared.” He shrugged which was out of character for Eli. It wasn’t often that the both of us were dumbfounded. Its the little things I guess.

And then it hit us. “The orb.”

The both of us turned to look at it. It sat motionless on the table and thrummed, the only thing it ever did. It had to be the orb. It was the only explanation.

“Maybe you should say something?” said Eli.

“Yeah, maybe.” I turned to the crowd and spoke. “So you’re probably all wondering why you’re here….”

By nightfall everyone had settled in. We had sorted out that the black orb had pulled them all to Last Stand – or at least that’s the assumption we were operating under at the time- but I had calmed every one down and thanked them for coming, not that they had a choice in the matter. When I explained that we’d be heading to Tombstone to face Jasper Stone, I was surprised by the amount of people who volunteered to stay. We had done enough in our travels to give people hope and a reason to fight. If I died this week, I’d die knowing that much at least.

Later on in the saloon, I spoke to Simon Mercer and Joan about possible ways of killing Stone but both proved to be less helpful than I would have hoped. Simon made me a companion for all the good I had done in hopes that the martyr’s would bless me. It was a nice gesture but nothing more.

I took my old room in the Calypso. It was strangely much the way I had left it before; a comforting thought but strange given the amount of time in between. It might have been the last night I ever slept in that bed. I should have been there with Sally but that’d never happen again.

There came a rapping at the door and slowly, I climbed out of bed. In the doorway stood Nathaniel Van Houten, one of the people I’d met when I first arrived in Texas a couple of months back. I invited him in and took a seat at my old desk. I offered him a drink which he took and sipped on. Despite his brawny build, I never took him for much of a drinker. I’m usually a good judge of character.

“What can I do for you, Nathan?”

“Well, sir, I don’t exactly know how I should go about this so I’ll just out and say it. I want to marry your daughter.”

No word play, just straight to the point. The honesty in that was refreshing. I was shocked at first but the memory of secretly read letters came rushing back to me and I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I don’t know how to answer that.”

“If you don’t want me to, just say no. I’ll understand.”

“No. It’s not that. I just don’t exactly have the right to say either way. We’re not really on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Oh,” he sat silently for a moment before he started again. “What do you suggest I do?”

I shrugged. “Ask her. You have my blessing, for what it’s worth. I’ll even walk her down the aisle if she let’s me.”

Nate rose to leave but as he reached the door I stopped him. “One last thing. You’ve only seen half of the power I have and if you ever hurt that girl, I’ll show the other half.” He left quickly and shut the door behind him. Crawling into bed I smiled to myself, I always thought I’d be a good father. Turns out I was half right.

The wedding was the next day. It was rushed but with the world ending and a lot of us dying at the end of the week, it felt appropriate to put a rush on things. Love is fleeting enough without Hell just outside your door and if my daughter had found it, I was happy for her no matter the state of our relationship.

I swallowed my pride and made may way to the church where I found a small gathering of people. Nathan had cleaned up well. They’d have good looking kids together assuming they made it through the end of the week. Simon Mercer himself had agreed the perform the ceremony and even if I couldn’t walk her down the aisle, I could at least sit in the back row. Hopefully she wouldn’t take that from me.

Needless to say I was surprised when Simon called me to the front and led me into the backroom. It was as it had been many years before, meant to house a single cleric in a spartan lifestyle. Inside I found Mary Lou in a white dress someone had scavenged for her. It fit almost well but it didn’t matter, she was beautiful. There was a long silence between us but it was me who broke it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like a child.”

“It’s okay, dad. I said a lot of hurtful things that I didn’t mean.”

“That didn’t change the fact that they were all true. I’ve been an idiot. Forgive me?”

“If you forgive me.”

“Of course I do.” I moved in and hugged my daughter and as much as I hate to admit it, I cried (it was the day of my daughter’s wedding so I’m allowed to feel something). The ceremony was short and sweet and it gave us all a reason to be happy. I spent most of my time talking to Simon about the martyr’s he’d mentioned.

It was a beautiful day. A perfect day to forget about the world going to shit.

For most of us anyway.

The journey to Tombstone was a quick one. We caught the Convoy as they passed through on their way passed Tuscon and when they heard our tale, they agreed to join us. It brings a smile to my face to hear so many people lining up to do the good thing but I couldn’t help but wonder how many more of these people would die before the day was through.

At Tombstone, we all climbed off or out of our respective vehicles and it soon became clear that all eyes were on me. I thought long and hard for the proper words to say but nothing came to mind. We stood there, all of us waiting on the words to say when I finally spoke. I had no speech ready at the time. I just spoke from the heart. Sometimes, that’s your best bet.

“They cheated.”

Every turned to look at me.

“The Reckoners. They cheated.” I let the words sink in before I continued.

“I don’t know how they did it. If I did, things would be the way they were supposed to be but we all have eyes to see the state of things.”

It took me a moment but I pushed forward.

“200 years ago a woman named Jackie Wells found a way back to the past to warn me and mine about the coming doom, about the Reckoners and the fear they needed to thrive on. She’s dead now. I watched her die with my own two eyes. She gave up her life to come back and try and stop the world from becoming the way you all know it and Eli and I gave up our future to do try and do the very same. And for what? For this shit hole? For this Godforsaken rock we called Earth?”

I let them all think on that and continued.

“Now don’t take my meaning wrong. I have no regrets and given the choice, I’d make the same one over again because its the only choice there is. Two of us give up their lives so that countless millions can live in blissful ignorance. I’ll take those odds any day. But we failed. I’ve spent the past few months blaming myself for all of your problems, for all of my problems, but I’ve come to realize that this could never have been my fault. I didn’t bring any of this upon us. They did. Pestilience, War, Famine, Death, the lot of them, they took our futures away for a tiny bit of fear. Soon enough they’ll leave our wold and move to the next and Earth will be a faded memory of a couple of good scares. Well today we show them we’re not afraid. Today, with a resounding fury we charge forth to look Death’s right hand in the face. Just down that road waits Jasper Stone and he aims to kill every last one of us and I won’t lie, quite a few us will die. I wouldn’t blame any of your for turning and running away now. None of us would. But if you do, you only feed the fires of Hell on Earth. You only make them stronger. But if you stay, if you stay and you fight, you show them bravery beyond bounds. You show them that you can’t cheat to win and that humanity won’t fear them any more. With one furious, righteous scream, you show them we’ve had enough. We won’t hide under our sheets from the monster under the bed. We won’t cry out for our parents for the monster in the closet. Our parents are gone, the sheets are gone. It’s time to look Death in the face and smile. Today, there WILL come a Reckoning. Today, we settle the score. Today, Jasper Stone meets his maker and the Reckoners learn the hard way just who they’re dealing with.”

I lost myself in the din of jubilant “hurrahs” and as the noise hit a crescendo, there was only one word left to say.


And charge they did.

It must have sounded like thunder to Stone as the horde of us turned that corner. I remember his smile as the crowds ran past me, sword drawn, guns blazing. Twelve shots rang out and twelve of us died but still they charged.

I remember O’Malley next to me, knife in hand, revolver leveled at Stone’s head. He took a bullet to the shoulder but still they fought on.

Brubaker, the psyker leveled his rifle and shot only to have his gun back fire and hit him in the leg. But still he fought on.

Nathaniel and Bushi were there in the front line, slicing at Stone to no avail and even when Bushi died, Nathaniel fought on.

Jed Smith let a magazine hit the Earth and even when none of his rounds phased Stone, he fought on.

It was beautifully futile. I can still hear the percussion of the gunfire and the symphony of steel and none of it phasing him but still we fought on. We were stupid. We were fools but we were none of us afraid. I smiled.

And then it was there. The sharp pinprick in my back. It wasn’t a bullet; I’d been shot before. No, it was smaller. I turned to look and there he was. Stone was right behind me and in his hand was a syringe. In the chaos, no one noticed him and why should they. Only two of us knew that there were two Stones. Why should the others even care to notice? He laughed the way he always did and stared down at me triumphantly. I was so warm and sleep felt so good. Why fight it? Why fight the end? The black set in around me. Who was I to resist?

Ulysses Goddamn Danbrook. That’s who.

JASPER!” I shouted loud enough that I could hear myself over the cacophony and when the gunfire began to die away, I knew he had heard me, too. A few more shots and a few more corpses hit the ground between him and me and I could see in the looks of the others around me that they had noticed the second Stone.

“Given up, gambler? You finally quit?” laughed the second Stone. “Let’s me and you finish this.”

The sheer arrogance of this fool. He’d pay for it in blood. “No. You’re next.” There was hellfire in my voice, so much so that I almost scared myself and for an instant, the second Stone staggered. It was all the time I needed.

“Call off your hound, Stone. It’s me and you now. It always has been me and you. It ends now.”

He cackled but I ignored it. The world was red and in my sights was the right hand of the devil himself. He’d lie low in the dirt before the day was through, I’d see to that. “Is that so Danbrook? Then tell me, how does it all end? Go ahead and tell us all before I end you.”

I took a quick survey of the crowd, looking for words. Most of them lie injured or worse. Brubaker was nursing his leg but he looked up at me and nodded. Eli was there, dragging a wounded man out of Stone’s path. O’Malley was nowhere to be seen but there was no time for him. If I saw his corpse, I’d lose this fire and that was the last thing I needed. It was blood I wanted. The mutant was there, healing the wounded while Jed Smith reloaded his gun and readied his aim, the damn ballsy fool. And then I saw Mary Lou. She was fine, hardly scraped at all. She stood firm by her husband and cried. She never quavered or made a sound but I could see the tears. She knew before I did that this was the end of my story.

I thought about what she’d told me. About how arrogant I’d been. I’d made this personal but it was bigger than me. All of these people dead in the street, it was their story, too. And Brubaker’s, and Eli’s, and O’Malley’s, and Nathaniel’s, and Mary Lou’s. All of them. It was the end of my story but the beginning of ours and it would start with the death of Jasper Stone. It was time to stop playing the protagonist and start playing the hero.

And then it came over me, a white light, like a rush of wind, cool and calming and a single word came to my mind. Blaze. And then I knew what to do.

“You’re a pawn, Jasper. A small fish in a big pond and I’m done with throwing you back. So this story, your story ends with you putting one of those guns against your head and the other against the other you and pulling both triggers.”

Stone smirked a moment before he realized that his Dragoons had found their own way up, one against his temple and the other against that of his doppleganger. They both stared at me and then one another confused.

Two guns fired. Two bodies hit the ground.

One was Jasper Stone. The other, Michael O’Malley. Sometime later I’d find out that he’d become a cyborg in the interim and that his AI chip had been the personality of Stone. Stone had wanted insurance and he’d gotten it. He’d been the one hounding me all this time. Jasper had used my own friend against me and he’d won.

O’Malley and Stone lie motionless in the dirt and for an instant there was silence.

Had we really done it?

Was Stone really dead?

When Jasper crawled out of the dirt and looked me in the eyes, I knew the answer all too well. “My turn now, Danbrook. Goodnight.”

Until that moment I had never heard the hammer click of a gun so close before. It was almost refreshing that it would end this way. Stone laughed the way he always did and pulled the trigger.

Or he would have if his gun hadn’t been melting.

He looked around for an answer and when O’Malley dug himself out of the dirt, he got the answer he’d been looking for. I’m not from the future but I’m smart enough to know that the rapid beeping I heard was a bomb. O’Malley placed his gun and knife in my arms and shoved me backward. “You know what to do with these, Danbrook.” I pulled the cards from thin air and fell through the shadow of the setting sun, tumbling out of another not thirty feet away.

Jasper Stone stood confused and leveled his gun at O’Malley. He fired six shots and O’Malley took all six hits and kept coming. Stone spun the chamber but before he could fire again they were grappling. The beeping grew louder as they wrestled, Stone firing off shots into O’Malley’s arms and legs and guts but still he came forward.

With one furious move, O’Malley grabbed him in a bear hug. The beeping grew louder and then stopped. Everyone nearby that hadn’t scrambled away quickly cleared out and left the two of them there in the street.

For a long time there was silence. Then Stone spoke.

“Why won’t you die?”

O’Malley smiled and, with the smug air he always had, stared the right hand of Death in the face. “Didn’t you know? I’m you.”

I’m guessing this wasn’t according to plan for Stone but I’ll never know.

There was one final beep and then darkness.

The smoke cleared long before my ears stopped ringing. It was Nathaniel who helped me up off of my back and out into the street. Where once O’Malley and Stone had stood there was nothing but a black crater. I looked for a sign of anything but there was nothing to be found. No gun, no scrap of clothing. Nothing but a hole and the bittersweet taste of victory. Stone was dead, but at what cost?

It wasn’t long before the first cries of joy rang out in the streets of Tombstone and why shouldn’t they? We’d earned it. But if it was cause for celebration, why did I feel so empty. I sat down at the edge of the crater and stared for a while and spoke a few words at the emptiness that would have been Jasper Stone.

Eli was the one to help me off of the ground this time and with the help of the others, we gathered the dead into the O.K. Coral. With solemn words and drinks, we burned it down. Too many had died to kill just one man and I couldn’t help but wonder if the cost was worth it. Many people had lost loved ones and Eli and I had lost a dear friend. And it wasn’t really us who did it.

Stone had made the mistake of shooting O’Malley’s fetter and giving him control. Most cyborgs don’t last too long after that but O’Malley always was a tough Irish bastard. With his last moments on Earth, he’d taken the devil with him, right back to Hell.

I watched the fire burn late into the night as the town of Tombstone came to life with celebration. Singing and dancing could be heard for miles around in the wake Jasper Stone’s death and as far as anyone else was concerend, we’d earned it. It was luck really, or unluck. A poorly aimed shot ended Jasper Stone but I guess that was always the case with us. Just getting by on the skin of our teeth. I smiled and joined the party.

The next morning I awoke in a bed I’d never seen before. The room was large and fancily decorated and in the bed with me was a beautiful woman, nude. It was Joan, the leader of the Schismatics. I climbed out of bed and made my way to the window. The sun was just cresting over the horizon. I turned and looked back at the gorgeous figure in the bed.

“Well, Ulysses. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

There came a tapping at the window and on the sill I spotted a crow. My whole life every crow had looked the same as every other crow before but when I saw this one I knew it was the one that had followed O’Malley for all those years. I opened the window a tad to let the bird in and I’m guessing the breeze woke Joan.

“Ulysses? Why are you up? Come back to bed.” She rolled over and I followed the curves of her hips to where they met the covers. I was never a man to turn down curves.

Halfway to the bed I stopped and turned around. I found my clothing and gear strewn on a chair and thought for a moment. I reached inside the coat pocket and found a metal star, the badge O’Malley had given me years before when he’d tried to recruit me. I swore then I’d never wear it but time has a way of making liars of us all.

Back in bed, I wrapped my arms around Joan and pulled the covers over us. I took a long, deep breath and caught her scent, the smell of a woman, the way a woman ought to smell. She was beautiful ,the way she slept, and at peace. I pulled her close against me and thought of the day that had gotten us here. We’d killed Jasper Stone and I wished I could say our journey was done but I knew it wasn’t. There was still Raven and Grimme to worry about. Them and whoever Pestilence had shackled to do her dirty work. And once they were worm food, we’d have to worry about the Reckoners themselves. If Death’s servant was so hard to take down, imagine killing Death itself, not to mention the fact that there was still probably another Stone out there somewhere. The work of a hero is never done.

I rolled Joan over and kissed her and when she was awake and kissing back I took her as I had the night before and for a few moments, there was just us. When we’d finished and she’d roll off back to sleep I stared at the chair and the badge on my jacket. The sun would be up soon and we’d have a whole new batch of problems to deal with when it did. But for now there was rest to be had and we’d damn sure earned it. It was time to sleep, if only for a few moments.

And for the first time in a long time, I did just that.

Ulysses and Mary Lou travel to the Chamber. (Filler)

At first glance, the Chamber is perhaps the most uninspiring sight in the Wasted West, and that’s saying quite a lot. But in a land where green skinned, flying squirrel men aren’t uncommon I’ve met one personally it’s an almost refreshingly mundane experience to find a herd of cattle grazing in a box canyon.

The Chamber itself sits in an old Spanish mission not too far outside of the shell of Tombstone. Nestled in the mountains, it’s an easily defensible position and rightly so considering what I’ve gleaned lies in it’s depths. If you’re a member and you’re reading this, don’t worry. I won’t divulge that here.

Mary Lou and I had spent several weeks on the road, slinging vittles or killing game as it showed up. The journey from San Francisco to Tombstone was long but I was glad for the company. I could finally make up for lost time with the daughter I had adopted and then left behind. Afterall, I might not get another chance.

In 200 years, Mary Lou had grown into quite the woman. She was smart, self possessed, and beautiful; everything I could have hoped she’d become. She told me about her adventures in my absence, about running from Stone, about the war and the day the bombs fell. She told me about all of the boys she had cared about and let go of because of her goal to keep fighting the fight I had asked her to fight, the fight that I had stared. I was proud of her but sad for her. If I had never left, this girl might have had a normal childhood. She might have met a man and gotten married. I might have even walked her down the isle. In another life I would have filed the papers to make her my own and she would have lived the life of a princess, a life which she deserved and still does. Maybe if I’m successful and I fix all this, I’ll give her that life. The thought of that happening is almost laughable but at least I can still dream.

Three weeks together went by quickly. By day we’d camp out of sight, out of the sun and heat, out of the elements. By night, we’d ride. From time to time I’d catch her sneaking glimpses at letters, reading them over and over again before she’d fall asleep but I didn’t have the heart to ask who they were from. Best let her keep some secrets I suppose and if they put a smile on her face, they couldn’t be a bad thing.

I was shocked to discover the Chamber when we came upon it. From the outside, it was a dilapidated mission that must have been in its prime about the time I was stomping around Arizona so many years ago. As we approached, we were greeted by gunfire. A few warning shots echoed through the box canyon from above before a few armed guards appeared and held us at gun point. After a brief inquiry and dropping the name Eli River, they escorted us inside. The mission was in an extreme state of disrepair but it was only a cover. Beneath the surface was the real Chamber, a mostly in tact Confederate military base from years before. It wasn’t long before I met Eli. He hadn’t changed a day, although it had only been about two months since we parted. He wore new robes, carried an odd looking stick and had a robo-monkey he’d named Little Bill that followed him around but, given how well I now Eli, none of this was particularly out of character, the monkey least of all.

The Library was a dark, dank place, with a ton of quietly speaking initiates running around trying to impress the higher ups with the vastness of their knowledge. It was a miserable place, perhaps the least human place I’d ever been, and although the people were nice, the environment was less than ideal for a man accustomed to loud saloons and the bustle of a busy house of ill refute. I say this so that when I tell you that the Chamber made the Library look like the House Calypso, you grasp the magnitude of my meaning. With only 40 people at the facility at any given time, all of which spouted techno babble at 1,000 miles an hour, it’s easier to wish for better company. Finding Eli was not my main motivation for being there though.

After some begging and pleading, I was finally introduced to Whitlow, the head of their group. It was him who I had set out to see to begin with. Before my leap through time, I had met a woman named Jackie Wells who claimed to come from the future. She died in the past but not before leaving me her journal, claiming the Chamber had sent her back.

I wasn’t shocked to learn Whitlow had never heard of a Jackie Wells nor had they been able to pull off time travel. Stone had murdered her in the past, and somehow when Stone killed you, you seemed to die a hell of a lot more efficiently. It was a major disappointment to learn but not without a silver lining. Whitlow and his ilk claimed to be able to pull off something like time travel but not without a massive, concentrated power supply. Something like the Heart of Darkness which had gotten to the future in the first place. The next step would be to find it.

Empty handed and back at square one, Eli, Mary Lou and I departed from the Chamber. If we wanted to get back to 1876 we’d have to find the Heart of Darkness again or something similar and we were without a place to start. Tombstone was only a day away though, which meant Last Stand was only about a week or so off. What better place to begin looking that in the place where our stories began.

If only I had known what was waiting for us when we arrived, I probably never would have gone. Hindsight, they say, is 20/20.

Ulysses first entry in his newly acquired Palmcorder.

Paul left.

I suppose I should have seen it coming. Even with my nose buried so deep in apocrypha I should have seen the signs; the restlessness, the hushed conversations behind my back, the secrets. I should have known one of the three of them would leave before too long, and Paul was never one to sit idly by while adventure waited just outside. Personally I don’t blame him. A few years back and I would have left myself. However, bravado is no longer a luxury I can afford, not with so much at stake.

I bring all of this up because I know that Paul’s departure means my time here at the Library is coming to an end. While Liebowitz and his comrades have been more than accommodating, I’ve infringed upon their hospitality long enough and no matter how much I wish to tell myself, I’ve no more information to be gained here. It’s time to ride out, meet Eli and begin the real legwork.

I’ve always been more the type to talk than to write so under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be reading this. Liebowitz was kind enough to leave me with a Palmcorder though so I can dictate my words and maybe it’s about time I do just that. All of that information might seem a bit arbitrary at first but it brings me to my point. I’ve gotten through all of this – the time travel, the apocalypse, all of it – by the skin of my teeth but even my luck has a limit I fear and one day, it’ll run out. That having been said, if you’re reading this, my name is Ulysses Walker Danbrook. I am the only person in the world who knows how to kill Jasper Stone and I’m probably dead.

It’s a weird thing, death. I hadn’t thought about it much until lately. I’ve spent almost a month of my life in books trying to figure out how to kill one man and it seems that the subject has a way of seeping into my subconscious. Out of boredom and egotism I looked myself up in the Library’s records the other day. There wasn’t much- bits and pieces about being a known gambler and outlaw and disappearing in 1876 – but that got me to thinking. If I was presumed missing then I had to have been presumed dead, which means that somewhere along the line there was a funeral for me and that somewhere out there is a tombstone with my name on it. “Ulysses Walker Danbrook. October 31, 1842 – ???, 187?”. In a dream I saw myself standing over my own grave in that old cemetery just outside Last Stand. There were other graves, too – the graves of the others who had died in our journey, both good and bad – but I stood over my own and stared. For how long, I can’t say. Eventually, there came a cackling all too familiar and out from the grave burst Stone. He pulled himself out of the dirt as if he had just clawed his way free from Hell and leveled his Dragoons to my head. There was a loud gunshot and I awoke in a cold sweat to a pounding on my door. It was Mary Lou. She told me Paul had gone in the night.

I dressed quickly and followed her to Paul’s room where we found Sally in tears. I tried to calm her but she insisted on chasing off after him and with 200+ years distance between us, I’m no longer a man who can really tell her no. In hindsight I can think of a thousand things I should have said to Sally before she left that night and if I knew what I know now, I would have said them all. I took a break from my work that day and spent it with Sally and Mary Lou, reminiscing about the old times and hearing all of their tales from the in between years. It was the first time in a long time that I can recall being happy. That night Sally came to my room and I took her to bed as I had so many times before. It was different but somehow the same. By morning she was gone.

Mary Lou said the two of them had eaten together that morning before she left out but I couldn’t bare to ask her anything further. I just smiled and changed the subject. To Stone. Always to Stone. I gave her my book and made her learn the Imposter hex and told her we’d ride out in three days time. Half expecting her to push the subject, I was bit shocked when she didn’t. After all these years she was still playing the part of the daughter and to a father she barely knew. Back in my room I set about slinging a talisman; the old wooden mask I’d had in my saddlebags all this time. I was leaving the Library in three days time, but not without at least one Ace up my sleeve.

At dawn on the fourth day Liebowitz was there to see us off with a few other Librarians. They’re good people, the Librarians. I expected to find them inhospitable but instead I found friends, a rare thing to find in these dark times. As Mary Lou and I mounted up on Eli’s metal horse, Liebowitz tossed me a bag and bid me farwell. Inside, he’d slipped us a couple of Librarian robes and a prognosticator for Eli. Miles down the road the two of us slipped into the new robes and popped an Imposter hex on, myself of an old man I’d seen passing through last stand a couple hundred years back. Mary Lou adopted the look of one of the girls from the Calypso. No one would recognize people that hadn’t been around for two hundred years. As we climbed back up on the horse, Mary Lou turned to me and asked, “What should I call you? You know, for the sake of authenticity.” I thought for a moment before I spoke, “Telemachus.” She smirked and responded, “Odysseus’ son? Fine. Then call me Nausicaa.”

I gave a half hearted smile and put my feet in the stirrups. “Before I knew you, I had a daughter named Nausicaa. I’ll have to tell you about her some time, before it’s too late.”

“We have time now”, she said.

I smiled and told her about my life in Savannah, about my wife and my daughter and how I lost them both so many years ago. Mary Lou never once interrupted nor did she ever seem to let her mind wander anywhere but onto my story, absorbing every word. When it was over she smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I missed you. We all missed you while you were gone.”
“I missed you too, Mary Lou. More than you can know.”

I had lost my first born daughter but in my travels I had gained another. That day I swore to myself, I’d die before I lost this one.

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