Dwarven sat in the old saloon, irritation setting in as the minutes dragged. He'd been waiting an hour, watching paint peel from the warped walls. Women drifted toward him now and then, trying to auction themselves off for a handful of Krits. A single cold side-eye was enough to send them away.
"Barkeep. Fill her up."
He tapped his mug against the scarred wooden bar. The barkeep slid it back, freshly poured.
"That's the third girl you've turned down." The barkeep leaned in, curious. "Either my girls aren't as good as they used to be… or a handsome man like yourself has other tastes."
Dwarven's stare cut sideways. The look alone could split stone.
"Sorry, sorry." The barkeep raised her hands. "Not trying to make assumptions."
"Yeah? You're doing a pretty bad job. Maybe I just don't like overly used goods."
She smirked thinly. "Hey, fair enough."
At the far end of the bar, two bandits started banging their mugs, trying to catch her attention.
"You might not be his type," the bandit sneered, "but you can be mine, baby. You don't want some pretty boy sipping nectar in a bar anyway."
Dwarven turned his full head, scowl cutting deep into his face. "What did you call me?"
The bandit shifted to push the insult further, but his friend hissed quick under his breath. "Do you not know who that is? That's the Grave Digger."
The first bandit blinked, took a double take at Dwarven—who had already turned back to his drink.
"That's the one they say has a mountain full of bodies?"
"Yup."
"The one who put down Yolo?"
"Yup."
"The one with the crazy bounty?"
"One and the same."
The bandit's hand went to his pistol. He laid it on the bar with a hard click. "Then what are we doing letting him drink? Let's take this bastard in."
Dwarven set his hammer on the bar at the same time, its etchings glinting in the lamplight.
"If you think you can raise your four-pounder before I cave your face in with this," he said coldly, "you'd die a legend. You'd still die—very soon, actually—but you'd be known as the man with a faster draw than me."
He slid his glasses from his face, gaze burning straight into the bandit.
"And that's something to die for. So go on—die for glory. I'll even piss on your grave from time to time. Consider it a courtesy."
Seconds passed.
The bandit twitched for his revolver. He never got the chance.
Dwarven's hammer cracked across his face, dropping him out of his seat. The man hit the floor with a sickening thud, blood spraying as gasps rippled through the tavern.
His friend fumbled for his weapon—but Dwarven was already on him. He shoved the man's elbow down, forcing the revolver back into its holster, and leaned close, staring him dead in the eyes.
The screams of the first bandit filled the bar as blood gushed from his ruined face.
Dwarven exhaled slow, almost casual. "Sorry for the mess. But I think I isolated it to one move."
The barkeep hurried to quiet the room, waving her hands at frightened patrons. "It's alright, it's alright. He's the one who started it." She turned back toward Dwarven, her tone shifting. "Anyway… Shriek's been paying me good coin to use this place as a hangout."
"We sure did."
The voice came from the stairwell.
Duo stepped down into the tavern, smirk sharp as a blade.
"And here I thought we were paying to keep the riffraff out," he drawled. "Not let them run wild."
"They're regulars," the barkeep stammered. "They get out of hand sometimes—but this is a first."
"A first, huh?" Duo strolled forward, tapping a mug on the bar. His gauntlet flickered with Luzid energy, a thin glow sparking as he dragged it idly along the counter.
He stopped beside Dwarven, laid a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a firm pat. The weight of the touch was enough. Dwarven let the bandit go and sank back into his seat.
Duo tightened the Luzid string tethered to the mug. It slid neatly into his hand, and he raised it in a casual toast before taking a swig.
"You'll have to forgive him," Duo said, easy and smooth. "He doesn't play well with folks like us. You know who I am, right?"
The bandit nodded quickly, fear twisting his face.
"Then you understand why you should leave."
Another frantic nod.
"Good. Then go on."
The bandit scrambled from his chair, dragging his bloodied partner off the floor. They hurried out, leaving a crimson trail that made the barkeep snap at one of her girls to clean it up.
Duo clicked his tongue. "Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I? Let me guess—he called you pretty boy?"
Dwarven's eyes cut sideways, cold as steel.
Unbothered, Duo flicked at his dreads with a grin. "You sure you're in the right profession, Rokk? Cover it up with these messy things, but you could've been a model, bro."
Dwarven rose, brushing Duo's hand away. He hefted his two heavy bags, jaw tight.
"You're gonna piss me off. Is Shriek ready?"
Duo smirked. "Sure is. She's waiting upstairs."
Duo followed Dwarven up the stairs, pointing him toward the door at the end of the hall.
Dwarven pushed it open. Smoke curled thick through the room, veiling the walls in a haze. Shriek sat in the center, puffing on a fat cigar, her lap occupied by a naked girl who rested her head against her thigh.