John pushed aside the batwing doors and followed Yanaba
into the dimly-lit saloon. Looking around, John could spot the
cause of all the commotion. An orc in the middle of the saloon
stood over a broken table and three men lying in a crumpled pile
on the floor. The orc seemed to be busy prying a knife from his
thick hide. John’s hand immediately moved to his side to settle
on the grip of his revolver.

Yanaba walked over to the bartender.

“OK Charlie, what happened?” she asked him.

“Well Sheriff, those four fellas,” he nodded in the orc’s
direction, “decided to play cards. The orc gets up, hollering
about being cheated, and starts a fight with the other three. I
need him out of here, he already busted a table and two chairs.”
Charlie looked over Yanaba’s shoulder at John. “Who’s the
kid?”

“He’s my new deputy.” The elf turned to look back at John.
“Deputy, uh…”

“It’s Smith,” he said with a sigh. “John Smith.”

“Right.” Yanaba turned back to the bar. “OK John, I think
you can take it from here. I’m going to have a drink, just let
me know if you need anything.”

John rolled his eyes. “Yes ma’am. I’ll do everything by
myself. Again.”

The elf smiled. “You hear that, Charlie? Kid finally
learned how it works around here.”

John approached the orc, as he finally managed to yank out
the knife. It was far larger than John had expected, a long
hunting knife, almost a short sword. It was covered in the orc’s
grimy, green blood. The deputy was suddenly reminded of the
orcs’ reputation for endurance.

“Hello sir,” began John as he strode up to the orc. “I’m
going to have to ask you to come with me.”

“No.” replied the orc. Standing upright and chest out, it
became quite apparent just how large the orc was. Seven and a
half feet tall with thick, muscled arms, and two large tusks
protruding from his mouth. But none of that would matter in a
fight, John reminded himself. All John would have to do was to
tap into the magic contained within his seven-pointed badge and
channel it properly.

Something he should’ve done earlier, sometime before a
swift backhand from the orc sent John flying several feet before
landing on his back. Yanaba let out a tsk of disappointment
between sips of rum as John scrambled back to his feet.

The stinging pain he felt quickly abated as he drew power
from the badge. It quickly began to fill John, enhancing his
body.

“I wasn’t ready that time.” John firmly stated. “It won’t
happen again.”

“Oh really?” the orc cockily replied. “Let’s see about
that.”

He brought his arm back for a massive punch, and John
replied in kind. The fists connected, the orc’s raw strength
versus John’s magic, a gift of his god El. The collision, much
to the orc’s surprise, broke his massive hand. He fell to the
ground and yelped in pain, staring at his broken hand, wondering
how the young man in front of him, barely older than a boy, had
managed such a feat.

But the pain from his injury and the shame from being
defeated by someone so young and small, by orc standards,
quickly turned into rage. The orc drew out the gun from behind,
and with a roar, fired.

The bullet tore itself apart as it collided with the
barrier John had erected around himself, just a few inches from
his head.

A thunderclap tore through the saloon as Yanaba fired on
the orc. Her gun fired no bullet, but instead a lightning bolt.
It seared through the orc’s armed hand, causing him to clutch at
the charred stump as he roared in agony.

Another enhanced punch from John, this time to the orc’s
head, knocked him out cold.

John let the magic drain from him back into his badge as he
turned to look at Yanaba. “Did you really have to shoot his hand
off?”

Yanaba holstered her gun. “Eh, he’s an orc. He’ll grow
another one eventually.” She held out a small glass of rum for
John as he walked closer. “Still, not bad. I think you’ve
definitely gotten the hang of the badge at least.” John took the
glass and Yanaba held up her own. “Cheers.”

John clinked glasses “Cheers.”