[h1]Blackjack V The Drunken Warlock Round Three[/h1]

"[i][color=39b54a]Finally! I've got the bloody drop on this asshole, and there's no way he's getting away this time.[/color][/i]"

Teller listened carefully, his armor's external speakers deactivated to prevent the sound of his breathing from giving him away. He could hear the elf moving about, though the demon's movement was silent, but that was alright. Teller cracked the dresser's door open just slightly and adjusted his head until he could see the elf. Thankfully for Teller, the delta didn't seem to stand between him and the warlock, so he could draw a good shot. Moving slowly to prevent himself from disturbing the air too much, he slowly grabbed the LE-21 from its holster and carefully lined it up with the elf's gut as best he could through the dresser. After a moment of checking the angle of the barrel as compared to the elf's position, Teller was satisfied he had the shot. He squeezed the trigger and, with a loud bang, the shot broke through the dresser door and embedded itself in the elf's sternum.

Teller burst through the dresser door in an open charge, bringing his pistol up and firing four more shots. The elf's demonic bodyguard threw out its arm, catching the bullets, but allowing Teller to throw himself into a low tackle into the elf. This time, he didn't hesitate, jamming his pistol into the ribs of the elf and emptying the magazine. Teller knew a thing or two about wounds, and though he didn't know anything specific about the elves, he knew he probably wasn't gonna live through that. Teller rolled off of him and leaned his back against the wall, watching the demon dissipate. The elf weakly drug himself against another wall and weakly lifted his flask to his lips, saying aloud "[color=0072bc]One more drink at least. How funny, a lifetime dealing with demons preparing to fight undead, and its a mere man that kills me.[/color]" The elf chuckled, stopping as he choked on his own blood for a small moment. Then, imploringly, he looked to the Ranger and said "[color=0072bc]If one such as you has to be the one that kills me, could you at least then make my death meaningful?[/color]" Teller lifted his faceplate and turned to look at the elf, and based on the speed with which the color was leaving the elf he didn't have long. As the elf lay dying, he made his final request "[color=0072bc]Please, I know not what you wanted to spend the wish on, but instead please use it to heal my realm. Millions dead to the plague....please...save...[/color]" The elf trailed off as the strength left him, and Teller watched as the elf took his last breath. Now alone with a corpse, Teller said aloud "[color=39b54a]'Fraid not friend. I've got a war to end...my own war.[/color]" Teller walked over and grabbed the elf's flask, clipping it to his chest rig, and striding out of the house.

Teller took a glance at the bar and closed his faceplate, frowning at the thought of the men in that bar. Some were dead no doubt, many more mangled, and by the look of the city he may've just cut its remaining population by a tenth. Banishing the thoughts, Teller moved on, crossing the bridge into the city. Collateral damage was just a fact of life when one fought deltas, the kind of weapons it took to fight them before the discovery of blessed ammo had been the kind only the air force could provide. Even afterwards, Deltas were so powerful the explosive principle of P for Plenty was often used, and heaven only knew how many civilians had been killed applying that principle. As he walked into the city, he triggered a hit from his pre-war playlist [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kRtBIQmy4g]in honor of himself, and the broken dream of the drunken warlock.[/url]