A freshly cleaned 357 revolver and one bullet lay on the table next to a small bag of opioids and a bottle of moonshine. A few stray pills were scattered across the table, and the bottle was half empty. Slamming a glass down on the table, Bento shrugged off the harsh taste of the local rotgut. Retrieving a gold pocketwatch from his vest he checked the time; it was 1:38 in the afternoon. What an awful time, he mused, taking up his revolver, putting the bullet in the wheel and spinning it haphazardly. He flicked it home and cocked back the hammer before laying the barrel to rest against his head, pointed at his skull.

[color=92278f]“Since the beginning of time all things have moved according to the necessity dictated by their cause.”[/color] He muttered to himself, reciting his understanding of the world in a way that almost resembled a prayer. [color=92278f]“My body and mind are affected by, and affect in turn, the flow of the cosmic whole. The substance from which my form is manifested, that whose essence is expressed in infinitely many ways, I call you God. This substance, God, by which all of existence is determined according to it’s nature, is supremely perfect.”[/color] Adrenaline pumped faster and faster through his veins in anticipation… His mind was swimming from all the drugs and alcohol, and tears ran down his tormented face as he forced the words through painful sobs. [color=92278f]“To this nature I am beholden, to this God I surrender.”[/color] Breathing heavily, the Immortal teetered on the edge of existence, testing fate, staring deep into the abyss. He finally understood what it meant to be alive as he counted down: 3, 2, 1… 

Everything went black, and for one, perfect moment there was nothing.

In the next, he was on the floor, screaming. Not the controlled screams of rage, but the terrified, erratic screaming of a man whose fate it was to endure his curse, and his gift. He threw himself up from the floor, gun still in hand and spun back to the table. He screamed again, pulled the hammer back once more and fired, sending a bullet smashing through the bottle as it shattered into pieces.

He dropped the gun on the floor and breathed in deeply, over and over, slowly regaining his composure. He calmly returned to the table, picked up his glass and threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

He noticed that his hands had been shaking the whole time. He sank back into his chair and held his head in his hands for a long time. Tears ran down his face once more, this time silent and needless; what good did these tears achieve? He had touched the void, and it had been beautiful, but now he was back. Now he had to keep moving.

Exhaling sharply, Bento shook his head as he stood and crossed the room to grab his belt, then strap it around his waist. Returning to the table, he scooped his gun off the floor before he loaded and holstered the weapon. He needed a new purpose, one that was real. The task of finding one in such a meaningless world, in such a meaningless city was daunting, but at least it had been a while since he had sprung for good whiskey… That would do for now.

[center]---[/center]

Bento sat alone at a table in the corner just listening to the band as the bartender poured another couple of fingers into his glass. Bento pulled out his watch to check the time; it was 3:20. [color=92278f]“Just leave the bottle.”[/color] The Windcaller grunted, as he tossed a handful of dirty 9mm rounds on the table. A couple of minutes later a dirty looking man approached the table, his own empty glass in hand, presumably jonesing for some whiskey. [color=92278f]“I’m not in the mood.”[/color] Bento spat.

[color=ed1c24]“Aww, come on, man! I’ve got an ear to the ground ‘round here… I’ve got good info, man…”[/color]

[color=92278f]“Fucking try me…”[/color] The Immortal responded, tossing the contents of his glass down his throat.

[color=ed1c24]“Well don’t you tell nobody I told you this…”[/color] The man whispered, taking a seat as he did. [color=ed1c24]“But surely you’ve heard about all the crack downs on Immortals lately? Get this… Rumor has it they’re all gathering around Regal Rock out to the east and-“[/color]

[color=92278f]“You think I haven’t heard this bullshit before?”[/color] Bento interrupted, pulling his gun and placing it on the table with a thud. [color=92278f]“Try again…”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]“Jesus Christ, man! Okay! I heard there’s been a bunch of murders up in Gaen territory. Got everyone scrablin’ around, ain’t nobody know what to do with themselves. Huh?”[/color]

The Major poured himself another glass and tipped the bottle over to offer a splash in the old man’s glass [color=92278f]“Here’s what that’s worth… Now give me something other than cheap gossip or we’re done.”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]“Aight, listen up then… Rumor has it the Castalia Family is making a grab for Russell City.”[/color]

[color=92278f]“What did I say about rumors?”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]“No, no… I saw it with my own eyes, they’re shipping the drugs in from Serenity, hiring muscle and girls for this new club they’re opening up. I hear they even got the Wings busting up the little guys… They fuckin’ hit my gas guy this mornin’ and that’s why I need this booze, man. Come on, I’m beggin’ you…”[/color] The man started pleading. Bento tipped the bottle and poured the man two fingers worth before carefully transferring the contents of the bottle into an empty flask in one of his vest pockets. [color=ed1c24]“Dear God, thank you…”[/color] The stranger said, greedily sucking down the whiskey.

Bento returned the flask to his pocket and examined the remainder of the bottle. There was still enough to get some more out of the guy if he played his cards right. He was still pretty messed up from earlier though, and while the drinking had calmed his nerves, it wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of mental clarity. There was no doubt the city’s rougher elements would be focused on the arrival of the Castalia’s, at least until things settled down and all the blood had dried. The real question was whose blood would be spilled, and whose hands it would be on, and whose side would he take? When it came down to it, the lives of a killer and a gambler were not too different. You never play a hand you can’t win, but when you’ve got an easy mark, or bullets in your pocket, you take ‘em for all they’re worth… [color=92278f]“The rest of the bottle for everything you know about the Castalia Family operation.”[/color]

For the first time in weeks, a sly smile spread across the Windcaller’s lips. In the background the band started playing a familiar [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVfX1qiZWEs]song[/url].

[center][color=39b54a][i]I wanna be a bad guy in a silent film,
Lit up by candles in the space between the shadows
I wouldn’t have to say nothing, or sound mean
I just wouldn’t smile, or look too pleased

They can’t all be good
My guess, better that they shouldn’t
What if sorrows swim?
Good God, gonna need to burn them[/i][/color]

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