19th Bullet: XCUTION.

"The Chain Dogs, huh?" the barkeep asked, spittle of tobacco exiting his grimy mouth. The saloon he owned wasn't a particularly popular one but it was the cheapest one in downtown so broke cowboys and sometimes the homeless came into the shop for some kind of comfort. A lot of them were criminals so seeing Killrights so visibly caused them to back off and hide into the corners with their dirty little secrets inside the dirty little saloon that contained all sorts of dirt.

"That's right," Deacon said. "Since these dogs are so popular, my partner and I were wondering if you could tell us where they are. Very important mission."

The barkeep wiped down a glass with a dirty rag and set it down. He spat and it landed into a spittoon with perfect aim. Actually, it landed just outside, on top of the growing amounts of glob that hadn't been mopped in days. "Sorry. Can't help."

Uvo made a face. "Why not?"

"Unless I feel like getting crucified the next morning, I'll stay within my lanes."

Uvo stepped forward. "I don't think you're understanding the gravity of this situation. You heard of the news, didn't you? The shooting? Well, that's gonna be on a rather grand scale if you don't tell us where the Chain Dogs are hiding."

The barkeep looked at him and then back at the counter. "Mind if I tell you a tale?"

"We don't have—" Uvo couldn't finish due to Deacon holding out a hand.

"This," the barkeep said, turning around to fix the dispenser, "happened a long time ago. I used to stay with my pops in this old place. My mom left us and my grandpa died just a week before that. My pops was a fun man. He used to make rubber band guns for me to play with. But, the Chain Dogs swept the whole downtown and 'offered' us protection fees. My dad paid and paid some more and eventually, he barely had any money to keep the saloon running. He started to take from BA's happy department. Took one too many and I saw him have a heart attack right in front of me. He just collapsed. And now I pay the debt he left me with."

Uvo's face grew a bit softer and Deacon listened carefully. 

"This bar caused me so many problems. The problems were caused by those maniacs. Thanks to them, living in San Francisco is almost impossible. Downtown is just the worst. Seeing those kids run around and kick a ball made of rags... it makes me sick. Not even the lawdogs could help us. So I have a burning question to ask, why haven't you lawdogs helped us, huh? Maybe you're too busy with your Desperados and bandits so you leave us here to rot while you flaunt your fancy guns and horses?"

Deacon kept quiet and Uvo couldn't string a sentence and only ask why himself. Why didn't they help San Francisco sooner?

"That's what we're trying to do," Deacon replied. "We aren't superheroes. We're all just men. We Killrights are men in fancy cloaks that kill bad men. Nothing more, nothing less. To expect somebody in tights and a cape to swoop in and save you, it's quite childish and pathetic."

Uvo looked at Deacon like he just went mad. "What the hell are you saying?!"

The barkeep chuckled. "Cold, eh? Not surprising. You're right, we are just men. Men with selfish desires like anybody else. As long as we continue to think and feel, we're just as much as a victim we are to ourselves than to them. You know what? I'm practically knocking on heaven's door as we speak so I might as well tell you. The abandoned warehouses. Search there in the dead of night and you'll find the loud bastards as bright as day."

Deacon nodded and they left the crummy saloon and stepped into the rotting streets of downtown San Francisco. They walked on the sidewalk, passing stray animals fighting for food and depressing views of decaying monuments or squatter houses. Graffiti shouted over the walls and sketchy characters passed by them, not wanting any business with lawmen.

"Why did you say that?" Uvo asked. "We're meant to protect them, not be pessimistic pieces of crap and just want something out of them."

"But is it not the truth?"

"Holliday, I'm just saying that this isn't what Killrights are supposed to do. We prove hope to the people. This isn't some kinda business where you just bring the hammer on 'em, alright?"

"And what hope have we given, huh?" They stopped walking. "There are so many things I've seen, Uvo. I've seen friends of mine die, people that I was supposed to protect, die and people that trusted me, die. Out of all the people, you should know better."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't at least act so heavy about it."

"I don't like to lie, Ursus."

"And I don't like to ruin lives, Holliday."

The Killrights waited patiently and carefully by the docks. The warehouses started to slowly but surely get swallowed by the greedy darkness. The lights of central San Fran lit up and downtown stayed dark and gloomy. With much stealth, they crossed the grounds and hid behind a container to see loud revving of vehicles. Desert Movers, buggies and all sorts of enhanced rides barrelled in and the men parked, bolstering loudly in the night. They seemed to have carried something, large weapons stocking their vehicles. The grunts grabbed the weaponry and hauled it into the warehouse.

"So we're going to war, huh?" asked Balt who struggled to carry a crate. Next to him stood Weason. They both wore the leather jackets and dirty jeans, the cowboy boots coming around to fit snuggly on their hurting feet.

"Seem so," Weason replied. "Ever shot a man?"

"Never even touched a gun..."

Weason stared off before getting a move on, Balt following suit. Around the corner waited the Killrights. Deacon inched closer.

"It seems Monroe ain't here. That's probably a good thing."

Uvo sighed. "I'm glad. I'm not in the mood to be fighting criminal warlords."

"Me neither. So, time to bust some heads?"

Uvo slipped off his Death Arm, Bignoise, and grinned. Deacon grabbed his shotgun Death Arm, Rowsy, and they charged in. Ramming into a thug, Deacon fired off his Death Arm, bullets scattering to hit multiple targets. The Chain Dogs yelled and fired back, bullets cascading and Uvo covered for his partner. Men tried to come in close but Deacon bashed them down with quick yet hurtful blows. 

Weason and Balt ran off, hiding behind more crates but they couldn't hide from the monstrous noise that surrounded them. Deacon dashed behind cover and Uvo fired wildly, most bullets catching the enemy where it mattered.

"Rugitus Ursi!!" Uvo cried and the bullets began glowing into bright orange lasers that pierced through wood, metal and limbs. Men collapsed, cried in pain but they kept on shooting. It was as if they didn't want to stop or they just couldn't at all. Whichever one was the case, Uvo's Modus wasn't letting them up. Deacon needed to use something bigger.

He lit up a cigarette, took a long drag and puffed a long while. The smoke drew to the dogs, coughing and spluttering wildly. Weason and Balt inhaled the smoke and choked to the ground. This wasn't any normal tobacco.

"Impero tibi: Furor Cinereus."

The whole inside of the building exploded. The air tore with violent screeches and ripped everything apart. Bodies tumbled, winds surged and heat washed over like a vengeful wave. Weason and Balt felt their skin singe and by the time everything had ended, the whole inside of the warehouse was charred. The explosion was controlled by strong enough to disrupt the chaotic gunfire that took place.

Uvo fixed his sunglasses, his dreads hanging loosely and he fanned the smoke away. He turned his eyes to see his partner snuffing out the cigarette. His body, larger than his, hulked over the fallen bodies with an eery sense. It was as if another man was nearby but it was simply Deacon. Everything about him was slow burning like a bomb.

"Too much?" Uvo asked, a smile on his lips.

"Maybe..." the Captain replied and looked over to see Weason and Balt trying to escape. "Bingo."

♱♱♱

Janda Elliot walked down the highlighting streets of San Francisco. He thought deeply about Hanze-fi and the Desperados that were stringing their fingers around this cold, lifeless city. He didn't care that people were around him left and right, the only thing concerning him was this unnerving feeling tickling his heart. Against that feeling was Leoria.

That woman.

He puffed out before looking up at the starry night that stared back at him. He remembered the days back at The Oasis. The soft sands and slightly lingering mist. The wandering spirits that joined around them, passing through and into the water to whatever they were going to. Mother told them not to go into the waters. If they went into the waters, they would never resurface.

The Children were a curious bunch but Mother was the only one they trusted the answers at face value. He never questioned it until after the disappearing of the Children and the exodus of the spirits.

Mother... where have you gone to?

A huge rush of the crowd suddenly carried him. He felt his body being pushed and he heard the voices of the people.

"Alfonso is going to execute a Killright?"

"A Killright? Is that even legal?"

"It's going to happen tonight."

"You can't serious..."

Janda's mind clicked.

Killright. Captured. Someone must be real annoying to be wanted dead.

Re-click.

Annoying. Killright. Vadars.

Vadars was going to die tonight.