Easter in Las Vegas

[Ron Caliburn]

Debunker posted the good news, but here's the details on how it went down:

We pulled up to the warehouse that Tab directed us to around about 2000h. It was part of a field of such warehouses set between the city and the desert. Lots of isolation, lots of privacy.

That was good and bad.

We got out of the car and I went around to the trunk to pick up my bag of tricks. I reached inside and pulled out a Para-Ordnance P14-45 and handed it to Jake.

“What’s this for? I told you I don’t need a gun.”

Dumb sonofa - “Look man, I don’t want to get into this right now, but something or someone is probably in there, and they are probably waiting for us. I know you got a thing against killing, but I bet that they don’t. So keep this with you, just in case your tranquilizer guns don’t do the trick. Besides, it takes a few seconds for your tranqs to work, a few seconds is enough for this nutjob to shoot you.”

He grimaced at me. I don’t think he realized up until then that someone might actually try to kill us. He still took the gun though. “What about you? I want to know that you aren’t set up just to kill some innocent schlub who gets in your way.”

“Fine.” I put down my Saiga and picked up a MP-131K and started swapping ammo.

Jake looked at me pretty incredulous. “What the heck is with that? You’re just trading one shotgun for another.”

“Yeah, but this one has two magazines and I’m loading one of them with these.” I held up an inert baton round. “If I hit the guy with these, unless he’s only about 10 feet away from me and I shoot him in the head, it will hurt like heck, it will knock him down, but it won’t kill him. The two clips mean I can switch keep something more potent ready two go at the flip of a switch if the batons don’t work.”

He seemed satisfied but “Where the heck do you get all this stuff anyway?”

“Somebody has to supply the police.” I handed him a radio with a headset earpiece and mike. “Keep in touch.”

He slid the Para-Ord under his coat and stashed the extra magazines I handed him. I didn’t want to tell him that the ammo was my own special silver core rounds. I know he wouldn’t take them if he knew.

I adjusted my rig and slid the overcoat on over top of my armour. I slung the MP-131K over my shoulder and grabbed my bag of tricks. “Let’s go.”

Jake, Mr. Fluffers and I moved to the door. “I’ll get the lock.” In ever have a problem with locks, except this time.

After a couple of tries Jake frowned at me. “Take your time with that, I’m sure nobody will care about a couple of armed men working over a door.”

“Everyone’s a comedian . . .” Still, this lock was causing troubles, I had to move us along before someone did notice. I grabbed my power drill out of the bag of tricks and took it to the lock mechanism. That did the trick, but was still louder than I wanted. That’s what probably attracted the dogs.

First I knew of it was when Fluffers clawed his way up to my shoulder. You can always trust a cat to let you know what was going on.

“Jake, we got trouble.”

No sooner than I said it, the meanest looking dog you’ve ever seen came around the corner of the building. I’m sure Jake will call me crazy, but I swear the things eyes were glowing green and it had steam coming from its back.

Jake raised his tranq gun “I got it.” The gun puffed and I saw the dart stick into the creature’s hide - and drop off. “Bad hit.”

Mr. Fluffers hissed and I turned to see why. “Worse than that. Fido brought some friends.” A couple more of these dog-things had come around the far side of the warehouse.

I decided there was no time to check for traps and swung the door open and pulled Jake inside. I ducked in and closed it just in time to feel the dog-things hit the door. They backed off and hit it again - it buckled a little.

“Jake, help!” Jake and I braced the door while the dog-things threw themselves against it again. Now Jake and I are both good sized blokes, but these dog-things were rocking us off the door every time they hit.

Jake grunted “Ron, I’ll take care of the dogs, you go find Louis.”

“Sounds like a plan, but I suggest you don’t bother with your pea-shooter”

“Yeah, didn’t work to well.” The dog-things hit the door again and one of the hinges popped loose. “You get going. I’ll be fine.”

“Good luck” I grabbed my bag and me and Mr. Fluffers went further into the warehouse.

The warehouse wasn’t lit. So I slid on my goggles and turned on the pointer on my shotgun. Not much light, but enough to see anything hopefully before it saw me.

This place was a maze, time to call on my secret weapon. “Fluffers, there’s somebody here - find them.”

Mr. Fluffers gave me a little unhappy noise and jumped down off my shoulder. He turned a few circles, then started walking down an aisle between a bunch of old slot machines. I followed.

Cats’ are great, you can always trust a cat.

In the distance I heard a loud crash and a bunch of gunshots. I clicked the radio “Jake, you all right?”

“Yeah … <static> dogs <static> tougher than they <static> find Louis <static>”

“You’re not coming in Jake, what’s going on?”

“Find Louis <static>” A few more gunshots.

Now despite his contrary nature, I was beginning to feel a bit comradely to Debunker - but I had to get Louis first. “Roger, I’ll be back as soon as I can get Louis.”

Fluffers was leading me deeper into the warehouse at a pretty fair clip. I’d just passed an old Roulette wheel when Fluffers stopped, growled and than bolted back between my legs.

You can never trust a cat, they’re cowards, every last one of them.

I moved forward and found a rather large open area - and Louis.

He was strapped to an old craps table. My goggles caught a bit of light off to the side and I turned to look - at a timer.

“Jake, I found Louis but there’s a bomb.”

“Ron <static>”

I carefully scanned the scene - it looked like there was something above the table Louis was on. It looked like a demonic kitchen tool rack loaded with knives and scalpels and syringes all pointing down at Louis.

Cautiously I moved out into the clear space, watching for traps. When I got near Louis I gave him a look over. He seemed alive - barely. Lots of oozing wounds and it was plenty clear he hadn’t been fed in a while either. Looks like he’d had a hammer taken to his fingers too.

I slid over to the timer. It looked like it wasn’t set up to a large charge - but it seemed to be enough to cut the support holding the tool rack over Louis. There was also an antenna - it was set to go remote.

That’s when the lights came on.

I dropped my bag and ditched my goggles. By the time my vision cleared he was there. Ecclesia, or whatever his name is, had stepped out of a cloud of sulphur smoke. He was dressed like some sort of priest right down to the collar.

I fired the shotgun at him. Unfortunately the round in the chamber was the inert baton. It smacked him square in the solar plexus - and he didn’t even flinch.

He just glared at me, his eyes glowing red “I’ve been waiting for you Caliburn.”

“That’s Mr. Caliburn to you” I switched the feed switch on the shotgun and chambered a load of 00 buck. Before I could shoot, the freak raised his hand and my shotgun skidded over to right in front of his feet.

“What the . . .” I didn’t get to say anything more before a slot machine bounced off my back. My armour took the hit for me, but it still staggered me to the ground.

I grabbed my Blade and my Piece (my special customized monster killing pistol) and stood up - just in time to see another slot machine coming my way. I ducked and rolled to the side behind a roulette table.

“You’re only wasting our time, I will have you eventually” he taunted.

Fortunately that let me know exactly where he was. I rolled around the end of the table and popped up firing. My first shot caught him and spun him around - he wasn’t immune to my Piece - no monster is.

I get pumping the trigger, advancing on him as he was knocked about by the blasts from my gun. Soon I was right on top of him, my Piece to his head. “Say good night Gracie.” I squeezed the trigger.

CLICK!

I was empty. I slid the Piece back into its holster and gripped my Blade in both hands and started to swing for the cheap seats - when I got nailed from behind - hard.

My armour stopped most of it, but I was still knocked flying. When I stopped seeing starts I had a blackjack table laying on top of me. My Blade was just in front of me, so I reached for it - when a boot came down on the back of my hand.

“My, my, my, all that effort for nothing.” Ecclesia was scolding me. “all that hard work, all that fighting - just so you could watch your friend Louis die and so you could deliver yourself into my hands. I wonder what the people at the Lazlo Agency will think when I start offering clues on how to keep you alive?”

As he talked he’d pulled a remote detonator out of his pocket and extended the antenna. “If you have any last words for Louis - it doesn’t matter, he can’t hear you anyway.” He flipped open the safety catch and gently caressed the trigger button.

BANG! I winced. BANG! What the heck?

The remote control dropped in front of me and Ecclesia staggered backwards.

I seized my moment, grabbed my Blade and drove it up into his stomach until the point was sticking out his back. I pulled it free and he sank to his knees. I wiggled out from under the table and stood up in front of him. He looked up at me, eyes glowing red in anger.

I smiled “If you have any last words - I don’t want to hear them.” Then I hit that home run I wanted.

There was a flash of light when his head came off - and then it was all quiet.

For a moment. “What the heck do you think you’re doing Ron, you chopped his head off!”

“I had him down once before Jake, then he threw a table at me. I didn’t want him to have a chance at a second wind. Now let’s save Louis.”

I turned around and sized up the situation. Defusing a bomb is always best left to the professionals, and it takes a lot of time. Fortunately this was a small charge, so we weren’t in serious danger from it. Of course it could still drop that rack of tools on Louis.

“Jake, help me with this table”

We slid the blackjack table over between Louis and the bomb. “How did you find me and Louis?”

“I followed your cat.”

Good ol’ Mr Fluffers. You can always trust a cat.

With the heavy table in between us and the bomb, I wasn’t worried about us getting hurt from the blast. The next thing was to keep all those sharp things from falling on Louis. “Stand back Jake.” I grabbed my bolt cutters from my bag of tricks and cut the chains holding up one side of the crazy tool rack. The rack swung - but it didn’t drop. Instead it hung down beside the table - no danger to us or Louis.

“Did you take care of the Dog-things?” I asked as we started cutting the ropes and chains holding Louis down.

“The dogs were no problem. This gun you lent me is pretty effective.”

So were the silver bullets. “If you want you can keep it, I’ll just fill out the paperwork so it will show you bought it from me. All legal. Besides, I get those things at wholesale.”

Jake took Louis’ shoulders and I took the feet. “Sounds good to me. I guess there are times when I’ll need something more serious than a tranq gun.”

We got Louis under cover and took a look at his wounds. Pretty bad, but he’ll live. We did what we could there and rigged up a stretcher from my bag of tricks. I slung my shotgun and my bag of tricks, took my end of the stretcher and we high tailed it back to my car.

We’d just loaded Louis inside my car when the bomb went off. It was barely audible outside of the building. By the time we were rolling out, there was already smoke pouring from the warehouse.

“Nice work Ron. A little violent for my tastes, but nice work.”

“Nice work yourself Jake. Couldn’t have done it without you. I don’t think Ecclesia expected me to bring a friend.”

A friend, of Debunker? Yeah, I know it’s corny, but it’s true. He came through big time for a couple of perfect strangers - even though we disagree about everything under the sun. That’s what a friend does.

We took Louis to a friend of mine in the area. Less questions and less cost than a hospital. He’s still in rough shape, but he’s recuperating well.

The warehouse burned down - which is just fine by me, it cuts down on the evidence that we were there. Hopefully it destroyed the body too - but I doubt I’m that lucky.

I need to get back to my business before my clients go elsewhere, but Jake said he’ll stick around until Louis is well enough to take home.

[Debunker]

Update: Louis is recovering nicely, but will take awhile before he's back to whatever his buisiness is. He wont be posting on the site for awhile as you've read above, his hands were crippled during his suffering and about every bone in both hands are broken. I suspect that the reason Ecclesia specifially worked over his hands is due to the fact the Louis claims himself to be an Arcanist, and if Mr. E belived it, breaking his hands would keep him from casting spells as well as defending himself.

Ron's friend is an interesting fellow. He's a drinker and near scumbag when it come to women (the stories of his infidelities and womanizing he tells to pass the time is something, he should write a book), but he can patch up a man with the best of them. I asked him why he doesnt open a legal practice and he tells me "Personal politics man...its all politics." Whatever then...

Anyway Louis is on the rebound, he is having moments of conciousness, but Im sure he still has no idea where he is yet and he really doesnt respond when I talk to him yet (all the morphine the "Doc" plugs him with aint helping either, but at least he aint feeling like he's looking.)

Most of the credit in this resuce does belong to Ron, and I agredd with most of what he wrote, save for a few notes;

-There was nothing paranormal about the dogs like Ron wants you to think. Sure they were big and mean and probrably well trained, but they were'nt hellspawn or anything.

-Ron the sneaky devil that he is did indeed give me silver bullets on inspection of his weapon. I suppose he thought they we were hunting werewolves or some such nonsense.

-I really didnt want to fire upon Mr. E, but he looked as though he would have killed Ron and Louis, and that wasnt going to happen on my watch. I also mourn the horrid way in which he died, but perhaps death was better for him as he was most likely beyond medical help and would have spent his life in a mental ward once caught.

-As far as Ron's story about throwing objects around (with telepathy none the less), I think he exagerates a bit. He may have been on PCP or some other drug that made him aggressivly strong, but I missed that fight and cant comment on it otherwise. But those tables and slot machine are heavy and I cant see him throwing them around like Ron says, but again, I missed it, so I let that be.

-oh, and a note about Ron's cat, he's the strangest cat Ive ever seen. Between Mr. fluffers and his "doctor" buddy here in vegas, I question if I really wanna be considered a "friend" of Ron's

-seriously, Ron's a true hero and deserves all the thanks he gets. I keep you all posted on Louis as he gets his health back.

[Ron Caliburn]

Jake, I saw what I saw, you saw what you saw - I won't get into it with you - this time.

Yes, I have some unusual friends. I'll tell a story about who really owns Mr. Fluffers some time. Then you'll know just how bizarre the circles I travel in are.

I know you don't like violence - quite honestly I don't either - but it's what I'm good at so I use my skills to try and help people when I can. E, even if he was human, didn't seem like the type to stay down. I did shoot him several times and he kept his feet. I had to make a finishing blow - otherwise we wouldn't have been able to get Louis out before that bomb went off.

I drove by the warehouse district on my way out of town this morning - looks like the fire levelled the warehouse - going to be hard for anybody to prove we was there - which is probably for the best.

[Tabloid Hound]

Actually I did some research on that warehouse this morning, and I think I have all the answers. The warehouse was full of casino equiptment from a defunt Casino called "The Orignal Sin". And if you like that of bit irony, your going to love this!

It was owned by a Mr. Tanner McCoy. That name may may be familar to a few of you as he was a former "Evangelist" preacher who's order was decommissioned in the 80's do to a lack of interest (the Baker scandels and other issues put a lot of the small timers out of buisiness). With his "meager" funds he earned from those days, he bought all that casino supply crap with the intention of opening his own casino, but could never get the backing.

SO he tried to rekindle his evalngelical days and started an organization in that very warehouse, but again he couldnt get the numbers (rumor had it he wasnt very charismatic to bring them in).

But he kept trying until about two months ago, he suddenly lost all interest in his preaching, shut the doors and disappeared. This Sunday the local news in Las Vegas put in a small article in the back of the newspaper that the Reverand McCoy burned down in his warehouse. The offical report is suicide.

I'd say case closed on this one. But Dr. Kane's "Confidant" hasnt spoken yet, so I'm anxious to see what he has to say.

[Ron Caliburn]

So this guy was a human who was either dumb enough to tap into something past his ability - or crazy enough to think he was something else?

I really . . . really . . . really don't like it when the villain is human.

[Tabloid Hound]

I hear ya there Ron, but unfortunatly there are a lot of bad people out there and we have to live with it.

[Willie Long]

Debunker, Ron, that was a noble thing you did.

[Ron Caliburn]

Thanks Willie