[center][h2]One of Many Hunts: Somewhere in New Mexico[/h2]

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The sun settled on two black dusters worn by Vic Godspeed and Don Grinz. The two were prone observing over a ledge on top of a ridgeline above a small camp. Below their height parked two wagons with a family of four and two wagon drivers bound to large wooden stakes in the ground. Surrounding the family and drivers were 6 outlaws and their gang leader who appeared visibly taller with a black vest fashioned from leather. Gold buttons adorned the center of the vest as each reflected light from the setting sun off the dome surfaces. The leader was bent forward examining one of the young girls with his index finger and thumb, touching her jawline he measured her features with a grotesque smile. There was no question in the mind of a right person that this evil hovering over its prey reveled in the young girl's discomfort. 

Vic never liked waiting around when there was action to be taken, but he knew timing was important, even if everything in his gut told him to go. Vic turned his head toward Don asking, “What do you think?” Vic paused as Don met his eyes, Vic continued, “Is that our mark?” Don mindful of keeping low from the gang’s sight as he moved, slowly tipped to one side pulling out a brass Gregorian telescope. Don laid back on his belly situating his large burly self into a comfortable spot as his elbows extended slightly forward but flat. He closed his right eye as a left eye dominant man, he scanned with the telescope for any features that were noted in the Ranger report. 

There it was on the neck, a mark, a scar, it was something that distinctly told Don this was their mark. The mark was just peeking out from the folded red collar of the gang leader’s shirt. Don took his eyes off the telescope handing it over to Vic, “Yup, collar line, you’ll see.”

Vic took the telescope, looked through, and confirmed the sign, “When do we move?” He passed the telescope back to Don who packed it away back into his duster, “Midnight, when the full moon is at it’s highest.”

The two slowly pulled away from the ridgeline to prepare for the upcoming hunt. 

[i]4 Hours later…[/i]

The fire was cracking below Vic and Don as the two made their preparations in the dark. The gang chattered loudly as the frightened family of four would scream every so often when played with by one of the members. Vic and Don both knew nothing was going to happen to any of them so long as the gang leader’s master had not yet awoke to fill it’s drink, never the less Don could tell Vic was biting at the idea of waiting for something to happen if he weren’t the one initiating it. Don reached into his side jacket pocket pulling out a pocket watch, “Vic, it’s time.” Vic got up from sitting against a rock 10 feet from the ridge line they were observing from earlier. He dusted off his clothes and made his way below.

An outlaw, as Vic was making his way down, walked over to one of the young females in her early 20s. He cut her free from the stake she was bound too as she tried fighting him off but to no avail. The outlaw dragged her to the back of one of the wagon throwing her in and hopping in behind her. Don was surprised, if their monster showed up while that outlaw was defiling it’s meal, he’d be ripped apart and fed on instead. But, these were outlaws, men with no honor, no discipline, no self-control, and will be justly punished as a consequence to their evil. 

Not seconds later, one of the outlaws keeping watch sighted Vic as he approached the camp, “Boss, we got some idiot coming through!” Don from above watched as the gang leader hopped off the stage wagon in between the stakes bounding the family and drivers,. He walked up to the East of the camp where Vic was entering from. Don was perched on the South side which provided him a profile view of the entire camp giving way to each outlaw’s position as they reacted to Vic’s emerging presence. 

“What you doin’ here boy? Best you scat before we make you scat.” The gang leader spoke up as Vic continued his advance. The four outlaws began tightening their formation to meet to Vic reinforcing the Eastern line of the camp, all but two, one was still in the back of the stage wagon while the other remained watching the hostages.

“Are you deaf?” The gang leader drew his pistol, BANG BANG BANG BANG. 

Vic stopped. Don watched three of the outlaws and their gang leader drop to the floor like bricks tossed from a building. The gang member watching the hostages yelled to warn the other, “He killed the crew!” Drawing his gun, the outlaw fired three rounds at Vic’s advance but missed each time as Vic trained his revolver firing one shot which hit the carotid of his attacker. The outlaw fell back with a reflex reaction to bring his hand to his neck, but the blood was too loose, too quick, and too much to stop. 

“You can come on out, leave that girl alone and maybe I’ll let you die quick!” Vic yelled at the outlaw still in the wagon. He was positioned to take a quick shot if the outlaw came out, which he did, and as he leapt out Vic’s bullet punched the outlaw’s left breast sending him to the floor. Vic then quickly moved over the wagon to see if the girl was safe, as he looked into the back of the wagon he saw the young girl passed out, still clothed, but her breath was shallow. Vic climbed back checking her for any mortal wounds, but only saw bruising around her neck. Then he realized…the monster wasn’t coming, it was already here. Vic was ripped from out of the back of the wagon and tossed several feet as his shoulder hit the ground hard. 

Don watched as the thought-to-be dead outlaw from the back of the wagon rose as if never shot, before he could react, the outlaw had thrown Vic clear across the camp. It began to move with speed about to finish Vic off leaving a small window that Don took. The Whitworth Rifle fired an 11.5mm bullet at 100 yards smacking its target between the rib cage. The gravitational force sent the monster to a knee but not to it’s back. Reorienting his senses, Vic drew his other revolver firing three shots, each punching a hole in a small grouping around the left side of the monster’s face. It fell to the floor as Vic retreated to a better position.

As Vic and Don reloaded their weapons, the outlaw-monster rose again.

The monster turned it’s sights toward Don, Vic yelled, “Don! It’s coming for you!” The monster dropped its gait launching toward Don’s location with a fierce stride. Don finished reloading turned back to face the monster down range, “Shit!” Just as the monster leapt from a 15 yard distance Don fired his rifle aiming for the head, but punching the shoulder. The monster dropped short of Don’s position. Don scrambled to get up but the monster was quick taking a second lunge colliding into Don as he stood. Don fell back 3 feet, but the monster now standing where Don was began to burn at the skin. Crying out in pain it tried to move but was incapable. 

Vic took this chance to fire, BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG. Four out of the six shots punctured the monster, one in the rib, two in the hip, and two down the side of it’s left leg. Vic was approaching from the left profile of the monster, and it dropped to a knee. Vic dropped the dead revolver, drawing his second as he approached, BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG, and used his free hand to draw his sword. All six shots hit their target, three in the left shoulder, two in the torso, and another in the hip. The rounds were not meant to kill it, but to slow it down. As the monster recovered Vic was now arms reach about to plunge his sword into its neck, but before he could the monster mustered up enough power to turn as swipe Vic’s arm cutting it clean across, he dropped the blade, and the monster hit him with the other hand sending Vic’s face to one of the rocks. 

The monster found strength restoring in it’s body as it began to move from its locked position to finish Vic off. Stammering over as the bullet wounds slowly healed it raised it’s hand to cut Vic’s head clean off. SHLUK! A blade stabbed through the back of the monster’s head. Don standing behind it with his Whitworth’s bayonet equipped to the end. He used his entire body to send the blade from the back of the skull to the front of crown. Vic regaining consciousness watched in a haze as the monster dropped to its knees still breathing. Quickly, he reacted with his sword somehow still gripped in his hand. He raised himself up and with one strong cut decapitated the monster. The body of the beast fell as the head was still suspended by Don’s Whitworth which he dropped not seconds after. Vic and Don both crashed to the floor.

Don taking a deep breath, “Are you alright?” Vic tried lifting his cheeks for a smirk but settled with, “Yes.” Don took another deep breath, “I’m gettin’ too old for this.” He then proceeded to lay down on his back. Vic leaned up against the rock he had hit earlier, “Ha, not yet old man, I’m just getting started.” Don groaned following Vic’s remarks, “Let’s get the family free and get back home for a debrief.” The two took their time getting up, placing the decapitated head in the bag, “Hey, Don…that vampire was the strongest we’ve run into, what gives?” Don paused, “It’s a Upir, the damn thing is nearly impossible to kill.” Vic processed for a moment, “A Upir? Why’d they only send us then!” Don kept moving along toward the family, “Because ain’t nobody else who wanted the job.” 

[h2]Texas Ranger Outpost: Somewhere in New Mexico[/h2]

Vic and Don were sitting on a bench, Don chewing tobacco spat up some unwanted juices as Vic sharpened a dull edge on his Bowie knife. A commanding officer of the Texas Rangers walked over to the two handing Don papers. Don replied to the man handing off the papers, “What’s this, Greeves?” The man Don called, Greeves, was in charge of the outpost in New Mexico. He was a veteran, about as old as Don but with less hunts and chose administrative duties over hunting monsters. Greeves sat down next to the two, “Well, I wanted to give you two some R&R after the Upir almost took ya’ both out.” Greeves cracked a smile as the two almost detested had they not seen the bait coming a mile away, “Deadwood.” 

Greeves paused, “They got ghost rock in Deadwood.” Don dropped his head slightly, “Damn, how much?” Greeves pointed to the paper that Don placed next to him, “Too much, check the telegram.” Don moved his hand to flip the sheet over, “Yeah, too much, are we headin’ there then?” Greeves nodded, “The assignment comes from the top chariot of our greater ambitious organization, the mayor…a Mr. Farnum contacted one of our connections in the Confederacy who reported to our boys upstairs who assigned it to me to assign to you.” Vic laughed, “We get it, it’s important, why all the sighing big fella?” Vic stretched his arm out patting Don on the shoulder. 

Greeves answered for him, “Because ghost rock wherever it pops up, draws attention, death, and some of the most twisted characters this world has to offer.” Vic smiled at the response, “Good, it’s about time we met a match.” Don turned around to face Vic, “No kid, there is no match…it will be a blood bath, and we are being sent as a sacrifice to get any good information the clean up crew can work from after the fight has died down.” Vic sat back a little, “Hmm…then I guess we better make it a good show.” Greeves chuckled a bit, “I can see why you like him Don.” Don snorted, “Eh, he’ll do for now.” He spat once more releasing the tobacco onto the desert floor of the outpost, “Pack up boy, we are heading to Deadwood.”