KW0 Chapter 1

Knock, Knock, Knock! Three knocks, and then a fourth one soon followed. The air was as humid as could be out in this area; out in the middle of absolutely nowhere. How she managed to survive in such a state, without visiting town much was a mystery to him, but he had faced bigger mysteries. 

The door slowly creaked open, and soon a woman garbed in black. She wore a black sun hat, likely to hide the monstrosities on the sides of her head that he had been warned about. She looked meek, pale, and as if she never left the house much. From the rumors he had heard, it wasn't all that surprising. 

"You Miss Strays?" asked the male. 

She tilted her head to the side to get a good view on who was before her. Blonde, rugged, riddled with stubble on his face, but lean in most areas. Strands of his fair hair stuck out from under his hat. He was dressed in basic rancher attire, and, for the most part, seemed to be typical. Only one thing stood out, and that was the mask he wore around his face. It was a thin, black mask that had two eye holes sloppily cut out of it. It immediately raised her brow. 

"Yes," the woman replied, "I am Sable Strays, the accursed ewe, forsaken by the jubilant , which cast their undying judgement upon thy pre--" 

"Yeah, listen, lady. I don't mean to mean'ta be rude or nothin', but we ain't got time to just sit around, shoot the breeze." 

"Ah, I see..." replied Sable. 

"Yeah, so if you don't mind, let's get a move it on. We got a deadline we gotta meet. And yer pretty important'ta this whole thing. Ain'tcha?" 

"Importance is that of the beholder. My value diminishes with the passing of the chilliest of mornings, scalding of afternoons, and loneliest of nights. My death beckons for the execution of my very soul. Do you hear it call? " 

"Huh?" The male groaned, looking quite confused. "Uhhh, yeah. Let's just go. You got somethin' for me'ta carry? And packages? Yer dress is real poofy, so you got any more yer bringin'?" 

"No." Sable shook her head. 

"Alright then. Boss wanted you kept safe. Reckon he cares a whole awful lot about ya considerin' he had me bring a carriage. Hot damn, was I surprised." 

"A... carriage?" Sable seemed to be piqued by this revelation. 

"Yeah, c'mon. We'll talk on our ride there." 

The two made their way from the porch of the ranch. A majority of the ranch was empty, with nothing. It made the man raise a few eyebrows, and show a big of skepticism on why Sable had owned a ranch if she wasn't going to raise any animals.

When they approached the carriage, Sable seemed to be a bit nervous at the sight of the two horses which were attached to them. Still, she climbed aboard on the front. passengers seat, and awaited for the masked man to follow. When he did, he used his reigns, and commanded the horses to pull the vehicle. 

"So," said the male, "Name's Jesse, by the way. Jesse Speeds, but you can call me Bullet. Lil' nickname I got." 

Sable stared down at her lap in silence. The sun was beating down on her hat, but covering a majority of her face so no light would touch her skin. 

"Somethin' wrong, Miss Strays?" Bullet asked after not getting a response. 

"A title such as bullet chills me like snow which covers the tips of mountains. Bullets proclaim themselves to be god, ceasing the existence of the innocence, and punishing the lives of the guilty. Such a title is a tale, a tale of demise." 

"I ain't educated, Miss Strays. Ain't like you, but I reckon yer sayin' that I'm a killer?" 

"Precisely." 

"Ain't like that. Ain't never killed no man, ain't never hurt no innocent. Ain't no god of demise or whatever yer sayin'. Got the name for bein' shot as many times as I have. Been shot nearly 20 times, and ain't dead yet, but got the scars to prove it." 

Sable seemed doubtful of these claims, but decided to humor. 

"Oh, if that be certain, why do you garb yourself in cloths of uncertainty? Why are you masked? Why was your life attempted to be claimed by the bone-curdling fingers of death?" 

"Why I wear a mask, and why I been shot? That what you askin'?"

"Yes." 

"Don't need no reason'ta get shot, Miss Strays. And this ain't no mask, it's my face." 

How peculiar. Sable wasn't sure what exactly it meant, but imagined that there was a long tale that she hadn't heard. She remained quiet, and didn't respond to his response. In fact, it got silent from there. She simply watched the scenery go by for a few minutes, before Jesse spoke. 

"So, you're a writer, aint'cha? Never read no book. Shoot, I can't even piece together no word. You bein' educated, and writer, and all real impressive considerin' you're a..." 

"An ewe?" Sable finished his sentence, and looked to him with a sadness in her eyes, and shame in her voice. 

"Nah, wasn't gonna say that. Was gonna say 'woman,' but... guess bein' an ewe is pretty damn bad too." 

"Are you implying that the true disadvantage which haunts my existence is my gender?" 

"... Uhhh, yer words are kinda confusin', but sure." 

"I see..." Sable became silent once again. 

"Listen, I didn't mean nothin' by it. Don't wanna offend no lady. Just thought I'd ask. I mean, boss says yer a pretty big part of this whole thing, and it's been creepin' on me. Been wonderin' why we need someone to document our travels in the first place." 

"I am unaware of why he chose someone of such misfortune myself, Mr. Speeds."

"Maybe he just wanted a pretty girl around or somethin'?"

"Then the eerie spirit of delusions has wrapped it's bony, writhing finger  around his neck, blinding him." 

"Y'know what, maybe I should just be quiet the rest of the way. That suit yer fancy, Miss Strays?"

Sable didn't respond, and instead leaned back in her seat, and tried to breathe her hardest through the corset that she had been wearing under her thick, black dress. The heat was enough to make her feel tired, and she soon fell asleep.

She later awoke to slight pats and shakes to her shoulder. Her dark, grey eyes started to open and look around. The writer then realized it was Bullet who had been vibrating her in such a way.

"Hey, sleepy, we're here." He said, his voice a bit shushed.

"Ah, very well."

After sitting up, she glanced around the area, only to see that the carriage was parked in front of a building in the dead center of town. This caused her to have a great anxiety. There would surely be people inside of this saloon. Would her hat cover her deformities? Would it be enough. Perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. 

Bullet had stepped off of the carriage, and went over to the side where she sat. He held his hand up for her to grab it. She soon did, and he helped her step down. He then walked her inside of the saloon. As she imagined, the saloon was crowded. This made her heart race. Her anxiety was building. What if her hat were to fall off? What if everyone were to see? Surely she'd be outcast, and hated. Stoned, or perhaps hung. Was her imagination truly getting the better of her?

Luckily, none of that happened. Instead, Bullet took her to a back room. One where most would play poker. It had been rented out, so only a select few people were allowed to enter. When the two entered, they were greeted with a group of people sitting around the poker table. To keep themselves amused, they seemed to be playing again. 

In the group was a man with a bowler. He tapped on the table, checking his cards. 

"Maxwell," he called out, looking to another man who happened to be sleeping in his chair. "MAXWELL!" 

"H-Huh!?" The sleeping man awoke, quite shocked. "Ha ha! Is this the dream, or . . . ?" 

"It's your turn," the man with the bowler hat. 

"Ah yes. If this is, perchance, an a lucid dream, I will have EXACTLY the hand that I need!" Maxewell said with confidence. 

The man set down his cards, revealing a shoddy hand. He seemed so discouraged than how he was mere seconds ago. 

 "Ah, I see. So this is either reality, or a truly hellish nightmare..." Maxwell swallowed his own sadness the best to his ability. 

"Not only that, Maxwell, but you've now lost all of your money to me." said the man in the bowler hat. 

"Oh dear god, someone please pinch me. This must be a nightmare. Please, wake me up!" Maxwell shrieked, slamming his hands down on the table. 

The moment he did that, a knife went deep into Maxwell's hand, pinning it to the table. Blood ran down all over the cards that he had played. The person who forced the blade into his hand was a young woman with a sinister gleam in her eye. She wore a red hood which flowed down her back like a cape. The lower half of her outfit was similar to a short, frilly dress. Her dark, slanted eyes narrowed at the man who she had stabbed.

"Me helped, Remmington-san!" she exclaimed, "Do me get reward now?"

Her broken English was an indicator that she wasn't from this country, and barely knew how to speak the language.

"A-Ah!" Maxwell groaned in pain, tears flowing down his eyes. "A-Akka, I said pinch me, not stab me!"

Maxwell used his free hand to pull out the knife from both his hand and the table. He squealed in pain as he did so. Akko, on the other hand, simply smiled. It looked as if she had gotten off to doing such a cruel act. 

"Me sorry, Remmington-san! Me thought you want pain..." Akka tried her hardest to play innocent and coy. She folded her hands behind her back. "Me didn't think you hurt from that." 

"Y-You foolish woman." Maxwel Remmington remarked. 

Remmington held the knife, and tried his hardest to soak the blood dripping from his hand with a nearby cloth he had grabbed from the table. Luckily, he was a doctor, and knew how to treat himself. "

"Uh, did I come at a bad time?" Bullet spoke up. 

Sable was quite terrified by the woman in the hood, as well as the blood that was flowing everywhere. She, however, remained quiet, and didn't speak whatsoever. 

The man in the bowler hat looked up from his cards. He seemed to have been ignoring the violence around him, but when Bullet had spoken, his attention was caught. 

"Mr. Speeds!" The man in the bowler hat greeted, standing up from his chair. 

"Mr. Gambit, it''s good to see you," Bullet replied. 

The two approached each other, and shook each other's hands as if they were business partners. 

"So glad you could finally make it, and this must be," Mr. Gambit's eyes turned to Sable. He extended his hand out to her, "Ms. Sable Strays, right? You're the writer. I am a big fan of your poetry. Brilliant stuff. You descriptions are so bone chilling." 

Sable was didn't want to be rude, so shook his Mr. Gambit's hand, but remained silent. 

"O-Oh, where are my manners?" Gambit chuckled, "Matthew Gambit. I'm the one who hired you to write the events of our little adventure. 8 dollars a day, and you get to get out of the house. Where you can go wrong, right? Ha ha." 

Sable's initial thoughts on Gambit were that he seemed pleasant, but slightly awkward. His thin mustache, and bowler hat made him look like quite the suitor for most women. However, she never thought much about suitors, or having one of her own. 

"With us," Gambit went on, "I have Dr. Maxwell Remmington."

Gambit pointed towards the man in the bowler hat. 

"This is Akka Nensho," he then pointed at the Japanese woman with the red hood. "And of course, you met Mr. Speeds. So, how about you have a seat, and I'll explain to you what's going to happen." 

Mr. Gambit walked back to his seat, as both Bullet and Sable found their own around the poker table. Sable was constantly shifting her eyes back and forth uncomfortably around this strange group of people. Especially Remmington who was applying pressure to his bloody hand. 

"Ahaha, so an accomplished, educated author, and a woman at that," Remmington remarked in regards to Sable. "That's quite the feat." 

Sable nodded her head. 

"Never been one for fiction myself, but I do find the surreal settings to be in my favor. I'm a medical doctor, but as of lately, I've been pursing knowledge on the realm of dreams. Lucid dreaming to be exact. Have you ever heard of it, Miss Strays?" 

Sable shook her head, "I cannot say that I have." 

"The ability to control one's self in a dream. To have an absolute control over a reality! Quite amazing, is it not?" 

The writer tipped down her hat to hide her face a bit from Remmington, as well as give a brief nod. 

"Stop harassing the woman, Maxwell," said Gambit, "Let's get onto business. Mr. Speeds, Maxwell, Miss Nensho, let's talk about the task at hand." 

From his coat pocket, Mr. Gambit pulled out a piece of paper with writing on it. Unfolded it's creased body, and placed it on the table. 

"So, do any of you believe in... monsters?" Gambit asked. 

"Me believe in monsters, Gambit-san!" Said Akka, "Me monster hunter!" 

"Monsters? Ahaha! Don't be so ridiculous, Matthew!" Remming chuckled. 

"Whoa! Whoa now! Monsters? What'cha gettin' at, Gambit? I thought we were doin' some sorta bounty hunt?" 

"..." Sable remained quiet. 

"Well, imagine it as a bounty. Imagine me as paying all of you to find and capture a specific group of people. These people are inhuman, and very much... monsters." 

"Matthew, please!" Remmington scolded, "What are you getting at?" 

"Well, that's the thing, Maxwell. You see, the world is shrouded in mystery, myths, and monsters. There's an underlying truth to all that is mysterious. A group of people are said to have made a pact with death, and death has a name. His name? Mysterious. Mr. Mysterious. Don't believe me? Fine, leave then. But, you won't get paid for coming out here, and you won't get the reward that this could have." 

Remmington looked as if he was contemplating leaving, but for some reason, a feeling in his gut told him to stay. 

"Alright, fine," said the doctor, "Tell us more. Tell us how we can possibly have monsters in this world." 

"Well, Max, we have a monster in this room, don't we? Miss Strays," Gambit gave his full attention to Sable, and motioned her hand. "Take off your hat. Show him." 

Sable paled. How dare he? This was her most personal secret, the thing that she had hated about herself more than anything. The thing that had ostracized her since her birth.

"How dare you..." Sable spat. 

"Miss Strays, if you want my money, you will do it." Gambit stated sternly.

Was she really going to do this? If not, she may not have had the funds to continue living. This was all so... embarrassing. Her hands trembled as the reached for the brim of her hat. She pulled it off revealing two sheepish horns on the sides of her head.

"Jesus Chris--" Remmington gulped in shocked, and fell back in his chair, his eyes as wide as could be. He looked sickened. 

Bullet turned his own attention away to the horns which stood out. He started to cross himself while reciting a prayer. 

Akka, on the other hand, clapped excitedly. "What fine head for mounting! Me never kill sheep girl..." 

This was all so emotionally scarring. The writer swiftly grabbed her sunhat, and placed it back over her head. She tried her hardest not to get too emotional about it, but it was hard to do. 

"See, boys? Now that we know that monsters exist, let's discuss what I was trying to tell everyone!" Gambit went back to the paper he had placed on the table. 

The fact that Sable had been called monster resonated in her mind. It was such a terrible word to be called, but apparently that's what she was. Her heart sunk as much as she did in her chair. 

"The world is made up of mysteries. Mysteries are made by monsters, and monsters make myths. Now, this myth is that of Death. Death is not just a spirit. It's a living, breathing thing. A man. A man named Mr. Mysterious. And this man of death makes pacts with the dead, and brings them back to life as ghosts, in order for them to do their bidding." 

Remmington picked himself up from where he had fallen. After readjusting his chair, he plopped down in it, and held his bleeding hand. 

"Alright, I'm following," said Remmington. 

"Oooh! Death hunt! Me am excited ! ! ! What pay?" Akka asked. 

"Alright, so why'd ya choose us?" Bullet said with skepticism. 

"..." Sable remained quiet. 

"Well, you see, I needed a doctor for this hunt, so I chose Maxwell. I needed someone who was an expert in combat, and fighting, but knew how to keep his prey alive. And that's why I choose you, Mr. Speeds. After all, you're never kill any of your bounties, do you? And you have such a high resilience to death. So, you're my weapon in this.  I also needed an expert tracker for the supernatural, which is why I imported Ms. Nensho, and lastly, I needed a writer to document our journey. Her being a monster herself just happened to be a coincidence." 

Sable looked away when he called her a monster again. 

"As for the pay, it's 8 dollars a day, but if we succeed in our mission, you'll get something even better than money. You can consider it a form of richness that money can't buy." 

Akka started to jump up and down happily. "Ooooh! Me so interested! So very, very interested. Hee, hee! Let do it!" 

"And what is this exactly, Matthew?" Remmington asked. 

Gambit smiled, "I can't tell you yet, but trust me, it'll be worth it."

Bullet nodded, "Well sh*t, I ain't got nothin' better to do, and 8 dollars a day? Damn, who am I to argue? Where the hell do we start?" 

"Our starting point is here." Gambit showed the paper to everyone else. It was a newspaper article detailing a man who was claimed to be dead being alive. "This man's name is Klaas Winters. A dutch immigrant who was shot directly in the head during a shootout. Yet, he came back alive, and is now running a plantation somewhere south of Los Almas. We find him, we ask him how he's alive, and when he tell us, we'll be on our merry way. You understand?" 

Bullet nodded, "Sh*t, for 8 dollars a day, I'll understand anythin'." 

"... I am merely in this for curiosity, Matthew. So, yes. I understand." 

"Me understand, me ready! Me say let go now!" Akka shouted. 

The only person yet to respond was, of course, the monstrous ewe-woman, Sable. Gambit smiled, and waved a hand at the darkly dressed woman. 

"Miss Strays? Are you going to write our tale?" 

Sable didn't know how to respond, or even how to take this. This all seemed like a lot of work, and time to be spending around a group of people who feared her. Was this truly worth it, or was death, and being unable to pay debt better? She took a deep breath, and with much reluctance, fear, and anxiety stated . . .

". . . I will." 

What had she gotten herself into? 


[ To be continued ]