Prototype

“Yeah… I know the place. What of it?” the Keep put on a blank face, feigning ignorance of what was to come next. The stranger saw right through it.

	“Found a graveyard. No burials, just bodies. Recent.” the seated man broke the tense silence again, leaving no hint of emotion behind the icy words as his eyes slowly panned along the bar. “You know who left it?” he finished with glare that threatened to tear into the Keep’s soul.

The Keep wavered. The stranger was impossible to read, with a stone face and unreal mettle.

“...Did ya?” he spoke hesitantly, still trying his best to gauge the stranger’s intent. “Now that you mention it… I think I did hear somethin’ about a fight out that way. Guess somebody had to lose… eh?” Keep tried again to steer the interrogation elsewhere, but the change in his inflection confirmed what the stranger had already guessed. He knew.

	“Thirty corpses, all human refugees. Not a single weapon amongst them. I wouldn’t call a slaughter like that a fight.” the stranger bit into the air, sending a burning wave of hostility shooting out through it.

	“Hey buddy, keep it down, eh?” Keep leaned in again, casting a paranoid glance around the room before settling his attention back on the stranger. “Look, if you already know what it looks like up there, why did’ya come askin’? None of us was there. Had nothin’ to do with that mess.”

	The stranger sat unreactive, letting the fear and suspicion sink into the building’s creaky reaches. Under the pressure, Keep twitched- and the stranger’s left hand shot up, balling Keep’s collar into a fist and dragging him partway over the bartop.

	“I think now’s a good time for names, Keep.” the stranger growled and the room grew silent, save for Keep’s weak struggles in his grip. Even as the bar’s patrons could be heard shoving chairs out, standing and drawing steel- the stranger kept his face even with Keep’s.

	“H-Hey now, buddy- you don’t want this, do ya? My boys here don’t take so kindly to anyone who makes a habit ‘a roughin’ up their producer…” Keep tried to talk his way out with a wavering voice. The stranger could hear the floorboards creak as the patrons around the room settled again, weapons in hand.

	“I said… names. Who drew that slaughter?” the stranger’s grip tightened with every demand, and when he heard the click of a pistol hammer somewhere behind him he acted without hesitation. His fist slammed into the bartop bringing Keep’s face down with it, and in one motion he vaulted over behind the tiny man- putting the ‘beloved’ Keep between himself and the two-dozen loaded weapons aching to fire.

	“Start listing, Keep,” the stranger spat into his ear, hooking the man’s neck in his elbow. “‘Else I’m liable to start painting your walls with your patrons, while they do the same with you.” the stranger finished, drawing his free hand back up from his hip- pulling a veritable hand-cannon up with it. It was too large to be called a pistol- Keep doubted he could even lift it, at first glance- like a raw hunk of iron shaped strapped and loaded with explosive fury.