GUN SALAD

Morgan sat in Anua’s kitchen cussing up a storm. His daring escape had not gone well, and he resented it mightily. It had taken him most of the night–much of it spent waiting for shift changes between guardsmen–to extricate himself from the palace, and the last fifth or so of his prison break had ended in a mad dash anyway. He’d only just lost his pursuers in the cramped alleyways of the second tier a half-hour ago; judging by the sun’s position, it was practically midmorning already!

“Weren’t you all sayin’ somethin’ about the kid being able to heal wounds, now?” he grunted, shying away from Anua’s attempts to apply another bandage to his temple. “If that’s true, why’m I gettin’ patched up like a prizefighter?”

“Hold still!” she hissed, thwapping him lightly in the head.

Beretta sat at the table, turning her empty water gun over in her hands. She’d been properly outfitted since he’d last seen her, dressed up in travel clothes like her dad’s. “It will not fill up again…” she said. “Not since it healed Roulette.”

“Well, that’s just peachy,” he replied. “How is it you’re still with us, anyway? I can’t make head or tail of what happened on that beach.”

“Marka’s new weapon, Lifebringer, is Voidthrower’s twin,” Anua explained, taking up another adhesive bandage from the pile. “It restores the last thing erased by its brother. Because Beretta, Diallo and Ricochet were caught in Voidthrower’s line of fire the last time it was used, Lifebringer was able to recreate them here in Sebastopol.”

Morgan issued a low whistle. “Is that right? Sounds useful,” he assessed. “What about you, Marka? I saw you take a knife to the chest. Are you tellin’ me a little girl’s water gun is all that kept you clear of the grave?”

Beretta shot him a nasty look. “It has a name, Morgan,” she scolded. “Drizzle brought him back. It saved him.”

“Drizzle? Pfft.”

“No laughing! It is a better name than Ricochet!”

“I’m sure you believe that, little miss,” he chuckled. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in ten years, when your brain has grown in proper.”

“If not for her, you would not even have your weapon, Morgan,” Marka reminded him. The man sat next to his daughter with a consoling hand resting on her shoulder. She looked about ready to cry. “She risked her life to bring it to you, and this is how you repay her? With insults?”

He had a point. Morgan sighed, supposing that he might’ve laid on his opinions a bit thick. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry, Beretta. You’re alright. And Drizzle is, too.”

Just then, Mimi and Roulette came into the kitchen. The former had her arms crossed, looking between Morgan and Beretta with obvious disapproval.

“Wow, Morgan! Anua’s nursing must be having an impact if you’re already feeling well enough to terrorize nine-year-olds.”

“I am feelin’ well enough, no thanks to you,” he muttered. “After you dropped me that key, I had to get by on my own. If I’d had a little more support, maybe I wouldn’t need mendin’ in the first place.”

Mimi rolled her eyes. “Leave it to you to be ungrateful for a rescue of all things. We should’ve left you to rot.”

“Don’t take it personal, Mimi.” Roulette leaned in the doorway with a hint of a smirk on her lips. “If Morgan didn’t bitch, he’d explode.”

“Language,” Marka cautioned, thumbing in Beretta’s direction. Roulette reacted with a sheepish nod, but it all seemed a little much to Morgan; the girl was too busy fiddling with her gun to listen, anyhow.

“So, what, did you two have some kind of parley while I was gone?” he asked, directing his attention back to the ladies by the door. “Never seen you standin’ so close together without a fair bit of hissin’ and scratchin’ involved.”

They turned their heads to look at eachother. Roulette shrugged.

“Guess we just decided we had more in common than not,” she said.

“Yeah. Like our mutual dislike for a certain ivory-haired jackass,” Mimi agreed (prompting another monoverbal rebuke from Marka).

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I dislike him,” Roulette drawled. “He’s just an acquired taste. Y’know, like eatin’ shoe leather. Or drinkin’ gasoline.”

“Alright, alright. Sorry I asked,” he grumbled, suppressing the urge to gesture dismissively while Anua still tended to him. “I’m glad for you both. Really. We’re all here, we’re all friendly with each other… It’s a goddamned dream. But shouldn’t we be considerin’ gettin’ the hell out of here right about now?”

Roulette nodded, suddenly serious. “I was thinkin’ the same thing. If we stay too long, we’re liable to get arrested just like Morgan was.”

Mimi and Anua exchanged a knowing look. “That won’t be easy,” Mimi began. “The southern portions of Truvelo are infamously inhospitable; it’s practically all jungle until you hit the cape. Unless you plan on heading back up north, or west toward Seme, you’ll want to fly… Or spend a few days traveling to the coast to see if a merchant ship will take you.”

“We’re going after Turu,” Morgan replied.

“Right on the cape, then,” Anua said gravely. “A foolish decision. The bulk of Truvelo’s navy is stationed there, not to mention the Czar’s armies. You will have to land or make landfall some distance away to have any hope of approaching him… If you even can.”

“Couldn’t you all just stay here in Sebastopol?” Mimi suggested, looking to each of them in turn. “It’s not a bad place to live, and we could help you take steps to blend in. Challenging a Gun Czar is… Well, it’s suicide! You’d be much better off trying to make a life for yourself here.”

“We can’t do that,” Roulette answered firmly. “At least, I can’t.”

Mimi scowled at her. “Why? Do you have some kind of death wish? Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to try and take that man head-on?” she ranted. “Everyone in Truvelo hates him! Everyone! Well-organized resistance groups have tried to do what you’re doing, and they failed every time! How could you possibly think that you have a chance?”

Roulette’s eyes had drifted shut. Her jaw worked away, as if she were only barely holding herself back from tearing a piece off of Mimi. “It’s not about how much of a chance I have,” she said. “It’s not about the odds.” 

She looked up fiercely, then, angry tears springing to her eyes. “It’s about justice,” she finished. “Justice is comin’. It’s comin’ to all of them. And I’ll deliver it to them my own damn self if I have to, whether anyone believes in me or not.”

Morgan found himself taken aback, moved by the spectacle of her passion. No wonder she managed to pull me along this far, he marveled. I’ll be damned. She might just have what it takes…

“You won’t have to do it yourself,” he promised. “Nothing’s changed for me. I’m with you, Roulette, and that’s that.”

“Me too,” Marka agreed.

“I do not know who we are talking about,” Beretta declared, “But I am going too!”

Marka’s eyes flicked to his daughter anxiously, but he said nothing to contradict her. “We will still need the funds to get over or around the jungle,” he said. “Mimi is right; it would be too dangerous to go on foot.”

“Didn’t you say somethin’ about a tournament a few days back, Anua?” Morgan recalled. “With a hefty prize on offer for the winner?”

The woman sighed. “If it were me going ahead with this idiotic plan, then yes, that is where I would start,” she advised. “After I took a good look at the airshipyard beyond the southern gate. But you are forgetting something, Morgan.”

“What’s that?”

“Um, maybe the fact that you’re an escaped convict?” Mimi supplied. “A high-profile arena fight is the last thing you should be doing. What if someone recognizes you and tells the city watch about it?”

Morgan frowned, scratching his chin. “Hmm. That’s a good point.”

Roulette, who had perked up a touch since her outburst, smiled slyly at him. “Well, y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ about that a little,” she confessed. “I may have somethin’ in mind to make you look a little less like… Yourself.”

He met her eyes warily. “What’s that look you’re givin’ me? I don’t much care for it.”

“I think I know what you’re thinking, Roulette,” Mimi purred. “Will you be needing my assistance? I still have that trunk of things I mentioned in my room if you’d like me to fetch it.”

“Please,” she answered. “And Beretta, we may need your eye for fashion. Will you help us?”

The girl’s eyes flew wide. “Fashion?! Of course!”

Mimi grinned and sauntered from the room. Morgan felt himself getting paler by the minute.

“N-Now, hold on…”

“Sorry about this, Morgan,” Roulette said, producing a small bottle of dye from an unseen pocket. “Pink’s all I have at the moment.”

“Hey! Are you listenin’ to me?!”

Roulette gazed sharply toward their burliest companion. “Hold him down, Marka.”

“Wha– Roulette?! What are you doin’? You can’t do this! No!

“NO!

“NOOOooOOOoooOOO!!”