Captain Uni
Eddie Brock
Master Bruce
Sep
Cyberlad
McCoy's Saloon
Kansas City, Missouri
July 4, 1870
The hot, muggy air clung close to Jeremiah Crane as he leaned back in the wobbly wooden chair that sat around the card table. A thin layer of dust cloaked everything in the dimly lit saloon, but then again a thin layer of dust covered everything out west. He didn't miss the New England winters, but he sure as hell missed not choking down a tablespoon of dirt with every meal and every drink. How the people here didn't have severe intestinal problems was beyond him.
The bar was clearly, at one time, some sort of burlesque theater. There was a stage, which now featured far less subtlety. The whores of the establishment now displayed their...goods to entice the patrons, while a burly man in a porkpie hat played ragtime on a piano. Behind the bar, a portly, balding man who looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in years poured whiskey for his patrons. The madame of the brothel stood in the shadows above the stage, standing guard over the makeshift rooms where the men had their fun.
Outside, the revelers celebrating the country's birthday could be heard. The drunk yelling and celebration was more muted here than other places in the Union, no doubt. Kansas City passed between Union and Confederate control during the war, and there were still many that harbored ill will for the Union in its victory. Still, the party was going on as strong as it could in the face of that.
Inside the saloon, he looked at his cards again and smirked slightly. His hand sucked, of course. A two of diamonds and a ten of clubs was nothing to write home about. But the card game didn't matter. It was just something to pass the time before the real reason he came to this dive on the skirts of Kansas City went down. The other men around the table were about what you'd expect from frontier rabble. Dirty, dingy, and wiry, they looked like they all wanted to take a piece out of Jeremiah, which was probably the case.
One other man at the table he didn't have to worry about. The large, imposing black man with a stare of steel sitting across from him. Isaac Freeman wasn't one for the deception like Crane was. He rarely talked in situations like this, but was always two steps ahead of everyone else. Being an escaped, now freed thanks to Lincoln's declaration, slave probably had a lot to do with that. When you're on the run from figurative monsters who want to own you, you have to be smart. Isaac was as smart as a person could come.
"So, Yankee," one of the men hocked into a spittoon after saying the word, "what brings you to Kansas City?"
Jeremiah tipped back forward in his chair, and tipped his wide brimmed cowboy hat back so it was sitting on the back of his head. He put his cards down, and took a large sip of the half finished beer that sat in front of him. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his faded-blue Union duster. It had seen better days, but he was proud of his service in the name of freedom. America wasn't a perfect country, but he was doing what he could to make it better.
Kansas City was on the way to everywhere in the United States. Whether it was people from the east headed west, or vice versa, everyone traveled through Kansas City. Which is why Isaac and Jeremiah had come. They had heard tell of disappearances in the city. Most of the missing were drunks and vagrants, the kind of people who always go missing. But there were also talks of more respected members of the community missing. Young men visiting the brothels when on their way to homestead were allegedly not making it to their final destinations. The two things, to Freeman and Crane, meant the kind of prey they specialized in.
They had asked around the city, and found that McCoy's had a reputation. The most...talented girls could be found there, but also some of the most dangerous men you would ever meet. When they had entered the house of ill repute, Jeremiah noted that the women were incredibly beautiful. Many men had come through the doors since, and many had left looking happy.
The men running and guarding the place, however, didn't look all that tough. Led Crane to believe that they were indeed the people they were looking for.
"Well, gentlemen, my friend and I are looking for a pack of vampires, if I'm being completely honest with you," Jeremiah smiled at the rest seated at the table. "We believe they've been using this brothel as a feeding ground. It's a smart location for it. They're to be commended. But I can't allow decent homesteaders to become lunch when all they're looking for is a bit of fun."
As the Hunter spoke, the bar became dead quiet. He and Isaac were the only non-regulars in the facility, and Crane knew that. Whoever was in charge here had sensed something different about these visitors. The remaining people in the bar were either vampires or humans under their control.
"Seem to have touched a nerve there," Isaac grumbled as his muscles tensed.
Outside, fireworks began to explode, and flashes of light illuminated the dark interior of the saloon.
"We 'erd there was a hunter in town," one of the other men smiled, revealing his fangs as he did. "Didn't think he was stupid enough to come walkin in da front door though."
"Well, I was never the best student," Jeremiah smiled. Suddenly, he and Isaac flipped the table into the two men sitting to the left of Crane. They then sprang upon the two vampires to the right. As he sprung up out of his chair, Jeremiah slipped his flask from a pocket, and flicked the stopper open. He tossed it at his first target, splattering the vampire with holy water. The monster recoiled in pain, and got a stake to the heart in the process.
Isaac had also dispersed with his vampire, and just in time. The two of them turned and had to duck below the table, which the other two card-playing vampires had thrown at them. The opening gave the vampires the time they needed to get the jump on the two hunters.
Crane was pushed down by the superhuman strength of his attacker, but managed to smear his hand in the spilled holy water as he hit the floor. He swung his palm up and pressed it against the face of his attacker as the vampire came in for a bite. He flinched back, allowing Jeremiah to unholster one of his guns. He fired a round into the vampire's heart, who then exploded into dust.
"The wooden bullets actually work!" he laughed in celebration to his friend, who had just managed to stake his second vampire of the night.
"Great," Isaac responded, catching his breath. "Now let's see if they work at a longer range!"
Isaac motioned for Jeremiah to turn around. When he did, he saw the whores of McCoy's saloon bearing down on them. Jeremiah took a deep breath, and let go with his two revolvers. Each time the hammer struck, a firework exploded in the streets, accentuating the thunder of the Colt-made pistols. The flash of lights from the celebrations were like lightning, illuminating the deaths of the vampire temptresses.
Almost all his shots found their target, except for one. The final remaining vampire was steps away when a thrown stake found her heart, stopping her in her tracks and killing her.
"You missed one," Isaac picked the stake up and put it in his bad.
"Well, nobody's perfect," Jeremiah smirks at his fried while reloading his gun. While he does so, hear hears rustling near the door behind him. He turned and fired a warning shot, finding the portly barkeep attempting to escape. The man recoiled into the fetal position, and began to shake.
"P-p-please," he stammers at the two hunters. "Don't hurt me. I'm not one of them. T-t-they took my wife and daughter! Took over my bar! Made me work for them!"
"Then who was the boss?" Jeremiah looked at Isaac sideways.
"The Madame," both of them said simultaneously.
"Probably long gone by now," Crane shook his head.
"They have a ranch," the barkeep said, getting a hold of himself. "That's where they take the men. That's where they took my girls."
"Looks like we're making a house call," Isaac smiled at Crane.
A house call indeed.
