Colt "The Devil Spawn" Jackson
Desert ---> Fairbank

The eerie sound of metal stomping against the rugged ground echoed across the vast desert land leaving in its wake a ripple of death – a trail of revenge and vengeance that could only be left by the coldest of killers. Various desert critters scurried out of the way as the bulky phantom steed rushed toward town. The night was silent; the slightest noise could be heard for what seemed like miles. There was no preamble to the explosive events that would unfold in the coming hours. Colt Jackson had been riding for days now in search of his latest targets. You see, Colt “The Devil Spawn” Jackson was once literally clinging to life by the thread of a rope but was given a second chance by a mysterious man. No, he wasn’t certain it was a man that cut him loose that day, it was something else. Something with the power to call forth creatures of the night like Chaos, Colt’s phantom horse. He wasn’t certain about his savior’s true identity but that much didn’t matter in times like these. Colt was headed for self-destruction; any time lived after the attempted hanging was all a bonus. Still, Colt was beginning to regret making the deal that day. It felt wrong, almost as if he had signed his soul over and was bound by a never-ending cycle of killing. Every morning, pegged by a distinct knife that faded into dark fog upon release was a note with the picture of a target. Usually it was a man and every now and then a woman but appearances were always deceptive because as soon as Colt found his marks, they became something else – inhuman.

“’Nother fat business type,” Colt scoffed almost in disgust as he glimpsed at the picture of a cheeky man with a long, burlesque mustache and a monocle tucked deep into his left eye socket before folding the piece of worn paper back into the pocket of his pitch-black duster coat. Tipping the front edge of his high-crowned, wide-brimmed hat slightly forward, masking the trace of a sly but devious smirk, Colt eased his steed into the border of town.

Fairbank, a sign with red paint read. Colt stood in front of a rather large, two-story place. Shooting off his horse, Colt walked Chaos over to a hitching post. It didn’t matter if Chaos was tied or not, the demon horse was bound to Colt but it was all about keeping appearances. A tied horse wouldn’t be looked at twice no matter its peculiarities. Colt was a methodical killer, a calculating infiltrator turned deadly in the heat of gunfights. Swinging the saloon doors open, Colt quickly canvased the heavy atmosphere inside.

A saloon maybe?

The heavy drinking and loudmouths seemed to indicate so but then he caught a glimpse of the women and the way they behaved told him otherwise. Brothel. He took seat on a corner and waved for a drink. A busty woman with a long dress and heavy makeup coquettishly suggested a room upstairs. Colt nodded and took to his drink. The woman headed upstairs to fetch one of the girls. It had been a while since he had lain with a woman but his humanness often took its carnal drive.

Aside from a couple coinless, overly enthusiastic gentlemen, there didn’t seem like this was the place that took kindly to violence. “That’s a shame…” Colt whispered to himself as he took a big gulp, a cool drop of drink drizzling from his hard lips down toward his neck where a dark, bloodied bandana hid various prominent scars. He knew his target was here somewhere. Surely after wrecking the place, he’d have to flee before they found him. He’d stay the night. Of course, things rarely turn out as planned…

Cordelia "Susanna Blue" Murphy
Fairbank

A dab of rouge, two sweeps of mascara and the young redhead was done with her makeup. The woman was undoubtedly stunning, with her sea-blue eyes and long ruby-colored hair, piled on top of her head in an elaborate, curled updo decorated with flowers; red roses this time, but her face was hardly a happy one, instead wearing a mask of boredom and disdain. Cordelia Susanna Murphy did not like her job, and nobody was ever going to make her think otherwise. Even though she essentially was prepared, she somehow just wished that she could catch a break tonight. There were three other girls, and all of them were more willing than she was, after all. Unfortunately, though she was Irish, she apparently did not have the luck of one...even up to now.

"Susanna Blue! We got a customer! I'm giving ya five minutes to finish up and get down there!" A sharp voice ordered from behind her. Cordelia turned around, knowing full well that it was the voice of her owners' most senior girl, Sophia. An Italian woman five years Cordelia's senior, with piercing dark eyes and glossy black hair, Sophia de Luca was basically her owners' unofficial third partner in the saloon business, entitled to use her own name rather than a made-up one, being allowed to boss everyone else around and have the choice to reject an offer from a customer, even though she probably was the one that most men wanted to bed.

"Me again?! I just slept with an asshole the other day! You haven't even asked Madellaine for days!" Cordelia shot back, prickling slightly at the sound of the name she was given when she started working at the establishment. Wyatt Starr and Alexander Martin, her employers and owners, declared that "Cordelia" was too cold and unappealing, and dubbed her Susanna Blue from then on. It was true, the redhead observed, that Madellaine was Sophia's personal favorite and it was always her who had to take up the job, even though Sophia knew that she wasn't exactly as passionate about it as the others were. Not that the older woman would listen, however.

"Shut up, girl! We cannot afford to lose another paying customer, so ya better get your lazy ass down there or else you'll answer to Alexander." Sophia threatened, her dark eyes dangerous as she closed the door. Cordelia glared as she gave the Italian woman the middle finger, murmuring "As if Alexander would kill me!". There was nothing she could do, but she could at least revel in the fact that she flipped Sophia off. Small things were better than doing nothing after all. She got up and shook the silk skirts of her elaborate black and blue dress, a garment created from a variety of cast-off gowns. Fairbank was in the middle of nowhere, and money had to be saved. The dress however, was well-made and could pass off as something that someone better-off could be wearing, if not for the shortened, raised front of the skirt. She tugged on her long, black silk gloves over her lean, strong arms and scarred hands and put on a pair of earrings before stepping into the uncomfortable high-heeled slippers she so loathed. Taking the tarot deck on her bed, she made her way to the door and left her room, heading down the stairs to meet the so-called customer. Nobody knew how much she would pay to be free to travel, wear comfortable clothes and try crazy things!

Cordelia reached the bottom of the stairs, and surveyed the bar. Undoubtedly, the "paying customers" always had drinks in their hands. There were quite a few of them, making her give Sophia a hostile look.

"What now, bitch? You didn't even tell me who the hell you're throwing me on to!" She spat, pointing to nobody in particular. Sophia's lips tightened, as she tried to keep herself from losing her confident demeanor.

"Watch your mouth, Susanna Blue. Ya forgot who's boss 'round here? Do anything stupid and you'll regret it. He's the one in black...and you better do your job." She replied coolly, before heading upstairs, undoubtedly to share drinks with their bosses. Cordelia shook her head, before heading behind the bar counter to stand in front of a seated man wearing a black duster and a matching hat, a drink in his hand. Sighing, she allowed herself to sit on top of the counter, crossing her stockinged legs suggestively, before shuffling her Tarot deck and spreading the cards on the wooden counter.

"Name's Susanna Blue if you're asking. Now choose, Desperado. What is it you want to know about what's to come, anyway?" She said, an edge to the sultry voice she adopted for the situation.

Colt "The Devil Spawn" Jackson
Fairbank

Colt narrowed his eyes. A very attractive redhead made her way to where he stood, his elbows planted firmly against the counter. His eyes trailed her movements as she crossed her legs and took seat beside him on the counter. He eyed her through his profile, regarding her inquisitively. “Miss Susanna,” he greeted her nonchalantly with a tip of his hat revealing his intense emerald eyes that seemed to shine for a split-second.

“– Now choose, Desperado. What is it you want to know about what's to come, anyway?"

The bizarre question forced him to finally make direct eye contact with her. His eyes attended the delicate features of her face. Just another pretty face Jackson, sleep with her tonight and before she can even wake, you’d brought hell to this entire place but fuck is this one gorgeous…he thought to himself almost regretfully as he regarded her wavy, crimson hair. Deciding to play along, he took a random card between his index and middle fingers. “First I’d like to know what your bosses think about you playing cards with their paying customers…not entirely sure they’d approve, Miss Susanna, now, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate a good game of cards…” He paused for a second and took another sip of his drink. He was thirsty, riding around the desert aimlessly at times gave him an unquenchable thirst but it wasn’t just about the drink, he had a void deep within.

“What’s to come ain’t always so nice. Tell me, “He scoffed, “will it ever end?”

Colt had noticed her spat with the other female; he was perceptive to say the least. It didn’t seem like the woman in front of him enjoyed her job very much, and really, there was no blaming her. Sleeping with anyone willing to pay a dime couldn’t be pleasant. “Don’t seem like you like what you do very much…” He managed in a low voice, more of an audible afterthought than anything else.

It was in that moment that a heavy-bellied man with rosy cheeks from all the liquor approached the two. “…hot dash, thsss one’s fiiine…” He slurred between hiccups and placed a hand on the bar counter, wrapping his entire arm around Susanna. Colt narrowed his eyes at the sight but said nothing. With his free hand, the man reached for Susanna’s breasts when a knife slammed hard against his other hand, pinning it deep into the bar counter. “Aaaagh!” The drunken man yelled in horror, blood oozing from his hand and spilling onto the counter. “Bartender, I’ll need another drink, just finished this one…” Colt said as he slowly poured the hard liquor on the man’s wound. Startled, the bartender filled and slid Colt a second glass of hard liquor. Colt caught the glass with his right hand; using his free hand, he pulled out a silver revolver and casually pinned it against the man’s forehead as he downed his round. The man was visibly sweating cold and for that second the entire bar went silent. Colt pulled the trigger but the gun simply clicked. “Guess it’s your lucky day…” he reached for the knife and pulled it out hard causing the man to yelp in pain. “Get out,” he commanded and the man darted for the swinging doors without a second thought; after that, the bar became animated once more.

It was his pride that acted out that evening. She, she was just one more woman in a line of many. He'd be lost in her pleasure that night only to forget her as soon as the sun would come up. Just another job, he'd thought as he rode in earlier. But this target would prove itself much more dangerous than he'd ever faced and it would be only the beginning.

Cordelia "Susanna Blue" Murphy
Fairbank

Cordelia met the man's gaze as he looked up at her. His eyes were green, so intensely green that they seemed almost unnatural. He had a bandana tied around his neck, and a light stubble. She noted the tone of his voice, and wondered to herself what exactly brought him here to this establishment that was almost literally in the middle of nowhere. She watched him pick one of the cards, taking a slight breath. She knew which card the man had picked, she knew all of her cards after all. Two years of doing this made her know that much.

“First I’d like to know what your bosses think about you playing cards with their paying customers…not entirely sure they’d approve, Miss Susanna, now, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate a good game of cards…” The man asked, his voice deep and rough, with a slight hollowness to it that Cordelia noted. She shook her head and let out a snort, not minding that doing so wasn't exactly going to attract him. Questions like that made the real, optimistic Cordelia come out. It seemed that he didn't know anything about the exact nature of her work. She took the card from his hand smoothly, as she looked at it, before looking up at him, her sea-colored eyes more serious, but still with their characteristic fire in them..

"Listen, lad, my job's more than you think. This place? 'Tis deserted and lacking, and there's no soothsayers for miles...well, there's almost nothin' for miles, Desperado! Basically, I'm multipurpose...serve drinks sometimes, dance on other days, and of course, the usual damn things... The lass a while ago? Sophia, my bosses' bitch, basically. Gets special treatment, that one." She explained, her natural Irish brogue lacing her words, before placing the Tarot card face-up on the table and sliding it towards him. The Hermit. She wasn't finished yet, however, as she took the two cards adjacent to the card that he chose, and placed them facedown on the counter. He had asked her about whether something would ever end. She didn't understand his statement that well, though she guessed from his dusty jacket, worn boots and the fact that he stopped at Fairbank of all places that he was a vagabond, a wanderer. She flipped the two facedown cards upwards and slid them towards him. One of them was Death, while the other was the Queen of Cups, otherwise known as the Queen of Hearts, both of them upright.

“Don’t seem like you like what you do very much…” The man scoffed. Cordelia gave him a knowing look, betraying her feelings with her eyes. Before she could read his fortune, however, a round-bellied man, red and clumsy from the liquor he drank, stumbled towards her and slurring as he wrapped a thick arm around her. Cordelia wriggled out of his grasp, but he held tight, using his free hand to reach into her ample cleavage. The redhead, forgetting that she was working there, balled up her hand into a fist and punched him on the face. She was used to dealing with people and situations like this, but it did not mean that she was just going to allow those things to happen. She heard a shout of pain, and saw a knife sticking out of one of his hands, blood pouring out and spilling onto the counter. The mysterious man then poured his drink into the assaulter's wound, making the latter shout even louder and let go of Cordelia. The stranger's emerald eyes were hard as he ordered another drink, but Cordelia knew that it was him who saved her from having to deal with a bigger problem that she never wanted to be a part of in the first place. The stranger held up a gun and pulled the trigger, only hearing a click and no shot. There was to be no bar fight that night, apparently.

“Guess it’s your lucky day…” He said, before pulling out the knife and ordering the intoxicated man to get out. Cordelia, for a moment, didn't know what to say. Did he really just do that for a lowly girl like her? Someone who would otherwise be looked down upon and only seen as a means of gratification in the first place? There were many things Cordelia did not know about people, especially since the truly loving ones in her life were a few, and if anything, life was hard and cruel. Maybe he did it for different reasons, and that was most probably the case. The romantic inside her though made her think of the tiny chance that perhaps, she was wrong. Shaking off her thoughts, she proceeded to wipe the blood off the counter and get on with reading the cards.

"You're a strong and tough fella, y'know? Makes me wish I could be like you. Trust me, at least you aren't in my position...I was an eejit to have gotten myself caught in a stupid trap. Anyway, I'm no professional soothsayer, so don't you be gettin' me hanged for a mistake. The Hermit...a bit of a wanderer, aren't you? On some sort of journey, I must say. If I'm guessing right in thinking that this 'end' you speak of is this wandering...then take a look at this," She mused, pushing the Death card forward. "Death...not a bad omen, mind you. Especially if it's upright like what you see here. Death could be about change, ends and beginnings too. Your trials and your journey? Of course all things come to an end, and not necessarily through literal death. 'Tis upright, there will be a light at the end of that tunnel, but there will always be struggles. Heh...I always tried to believe in that light even though I never, ever saw it," She continued, assuring him as she touched his hand lightly. "And here, the Queen of Cups...well, the Queen of Hearts for most of you fellas. Ya lonely or something? Maybe you'll find...someone soon, maybe along the way? She's probably the most romantic Queen, that one. At least you didn't pick out Pentacles, er...Diamonds. Just between you and me, it's Sophia's personal card. God, I hate that damn woman!" Cordelia started teasing, tossing a snide remark not-so-subtlely. Yes, she wanted the bitch to hear her.

"Trust me, at least you still could control your path no matter what the cards say. I would give anything to somehow run away and have that sort of freedom. I was caught once, and since then, Starr and Martin have been keeping a close eye on me. Hell, I aren't even free to use my own first name here. Susanna? 'Tis my middle name, the real thing's Cordelia. Cordelia Susanna Murphy. Call me either name...just don't stick 'Susanna' with 'Blue', mind you." She dropped her voice, this time making sure that nobody heard her. Maybe this was her last chance in a long while, if indeed that very slim chance did exist.

Colt "The Devil Spawn" Jackson
Fairbank

"You're a strong and tough fella, y'know? Makes me wish I could be like you.”

“Tough to kill, sure. Or so I’ve been told, you know, there’ve been more attempts on my life than you can imagine.” He could feel the muscles of his neck tense and burn at the comment. He hated being touched there, he couldn’t stand contact in certain places, his neck and chest most notably – places where he was marked with brutal scars. “I’m heartless, Miss Susanna, I wouldn’t want to think a woman such as yourself could ever be like me.” Colt affirmed matter-of-factly.

He carefully examined the cards on the counter and then regarded her hand as it made contact with his and at that precise moment felt a jolt of electricity that almost made him flinch. It wasn’t pain but a different feeling. Wanting? Longing? No, he’d felt desire for a woman before, this wasn’t it; he desired her, sure, she was attractive as hell, he’d admitted that already but he felt empathetic towards her. It was the surprising human tone of her words. She was vulnerably sincere toward him and he couldn’t help but feel the need to correspond. Dammit, Jackson, don’t open your mouth and say something you’ll end up regretting later. He thought but it was too late.

“The Hermit...a bit of a wanderer, aren't you?”

“You wouldn’t be wrong to refer to me as one,” he responded rather cool.

"And here, the Queen of Cups...well, the Queen of Hearts for most of you fellas. Ya lonely or something? Maybe you'll find...someone soon, maybe along the way? She's probably the most romantic Queen, that one –”

He raised an eyebrow skeptically and regarded her hand still nestled on top of his. “Well then guess I’m not just wandering around aimlessly. Maybe I’m here to meet you or maybe I’m here to murder your bosses. Take ‘yer pick.” He smirked at the irony of his statement but tried to reveal nothing.

Then, he turned his hand to gently grip hers and softly tugged her toward him. “A person like me don’t deserve a Queen, Miss Susanna,” he whispered into her ear, lost in the unfamiliar scent of roses that decorated her crimson hair, “freedom comes with a price.” Their idle conversation quickly caught the attention of a man that stood directly across from them, situated behind Cordelia. Colt noticed the man. You’re beginning to look suspicious, Jackson, the hell are you doing, you’re here for a job. His conscience snarled. Colt moved from her profile so that his nose was just centimeters from hers, their lips separated by a hairline. His eyes instinctively trailed from her eyes to her red lips and remained without him realizing it but he continued talking as low key as he could. “Queen of Hearts, hu? Never met a romantic woman but she sure as hell sounds like one.” Her lips were so distracting, his coherency became impaired. “…So tell me, Miss Cordelia just how romantic is this fabled Queen of Hearts,” he said in a husky voice full of desire, tilting his head slowly and just before he could kiss her, he stopped and pulled away when he realized what he was doing.

He leaned both elbows against the counter and looked away from her. “Name’s Colt, Colt Jackson although you might hear people refer to me by lots of different names depending on the region just comes with the territory of being a wanderer. You don’t really belong anywhere so you don’t really have a name…and yes, it gets lonesome.” He sounded distant once more but masked within his tone was a hint of uncharacteristic reticence. “I can offer you that freedom you seem to want…but I must ask for something in return. That light at the end of the tunnel. Promise me you’ll help me search.” There was resolve in his proposal and that was what made Colt the dangerous man he was, his powerful drive to push forward and withstand the consequences of his actions. Almost every night, he had nightmares of being hanged, impaled by vicious creatures of the night or burned alive and he’d wake drenched in cold sweat.You can’t do this to her, Jackson…she’d hate you for it. Leave, this has been pleasant, better you live for the rest of your life with this memory of her than with the regret of failing to save her…but you already like her don’t you?

She’s different. Maybe…she…can…save…

He queued for yet another drink and upon receiving it refreshed his dry throat once more. “Miss Cordelia, don’t suppose there’s somewhere private where we can be a little loud? Don’t like the way that big, ugly fella’ over there is looking at us. The kitchen, perhaps?” The man in question was surely some sort of bodyguard.

Cordelia "Susanna Blue" Murphy
Fairbank

“Well then guess I’m not just wandering around aimlessly. Maybe I’m here to meet you or maybe I’m here to murder your bosses. Take ‘yer pick.” The mysterious stranger whispered, before musing that he didn't deserve a queen and that freedom wasn't all that - while taking Cordelia's hand and leaning in closer to her. She looked directly at him, as his nose almost touched hers, surprised. She got the feeling that the guy was the distant type, so why was he suddenly making moves on her now? Perhaps he was just like the others, but Cordelia did not want to think that way anymore, not when she just saw things that said otherwise about him. Murder her bosses? Meet her? Exactly what were his motives? These thoughts raced through Cordelia's mind at that moment.

“Queen of Hearts, hu? Never met a romantic woman but she sure as hell sounds like one. So tell me, Miss Cordelia just how romantic is this fabled Queen of Hearts?” He then asked, his intense eyes never leaving hers. Cordelia nearly snickered, but controlled herself. It appeared that this stranger was a closet romantic after all. Her eyes couldn't hide their smile, however. More than ever, she felt like this was her chance.

"Likely the most beautiful of the four Queens. She isn't one to hide her emotions, lad. Water can be gentle, like a calm lake, and clear too. She could see right through yer heart, and what ya feel. She won't mess around, and she'll love ya for who ya are. But water can also be rough like a stormy sea, and hard as ice. One must never, ever think that the Queen of Hearts cannot become this way once she's broken and betrayed. Her love runs deep, that's for sure," She said, tapping a finger on the card. "Trust me fella, girls...usually are a combination of two or three Queens. All I can tell you is...I ain't got Diamonds, somebody told me once upon a Boston winter. As for the price of freedom...I'd sell me soul to the Devil if I had to. You really think I can't handle such a thing?" She asserted, emphasizing each word of her last two sentences, showing that she wasn't at all kidding.

“Name’s Colt, Colt Jackson although you might hear people refer to me by lots of different names depending on the region just comes with the territory of being a wanderer. You don’t really belong anywhere so you don’t really have a name…and yes, it gets lonesome.” The man, Colt, finally gave his name, as well as admitted that Cordelia was at least half right with her suspicions. She could tell that much from the way he looked after all.

“I can offer you that freedom you seem to want…but I must ask for something in return. That light at the end of the tunnel. Promise me you’ll help me search.” He continued, proposing that he could somehow get her out of the hell she was living in. Cordelia's heart nearly stopped. It sounded too good to be true. Even though she saw that she wasn't like other guys, her pessimistic side was telling her that there had to be a catch. The way he spoke however, and her own optimism, made her want to believe him. If there really was a light at the end of the tunnel, she had to move towards it, and not just stay where she was. Any chance was better than no chance, and she was going to move towards that end, and having someone along the way wasn't going to hurt, especially if the things Starr and Martin said were all true.

"Listen to me, there always is that light, no matter what. Ya better reach for it. I'll go wherever, if it helps us find it!" She whispered determinedly. Two years did not break her spirit and sense of adventure, and she still longed to be outside, facing the unknown but free, rather than stay with the monsters she knew. Maybe the Death card wasn't only referring to Colt, but also to herself - a new beginning.

“Miss Cordelia, don’t suppose there’s somewhere private where we can be a little loud? Don’t like the way that big, ugly fella’ over there is looking at us. The kitchen, perhaps?” He lowered his voice even more, referring to the pale, burly man standing at the corner not so far away, eyeing the two of them. Cordelia quickly looked to her side, then back again.

"'Tis Mario. I don't know what the hell's with him, but that eejit can't seem to mind his own business. Now, the kitchen, for god knows what reason, is kinda off-limits to everyone, 'cept for the cook, the guards, Sophia, and Starr and Martin. Only been there once, and got it bad from Martin. Makes me think that something's in there, lad. We're in luck...too many drunken morons to attend to." She confided with him as she slid herself off the counter and beckoned for him to follow. She saw the cook walking up the stairs carrying two covered plates. Colt and Cordelia were lucky, very lucky at that moment. The redhead pointed towards the wooden swinging doors that led to the kitchen, and signalled for Dante to make a run for it before anyone noticed. She followed, dashing through the doors.

The kitchen was cleaner than the bar was, and a lot more private as well. Cordelia looked towards Colt, nodding as she saw that the coast seemed clear. "Now, why exactly did you come here? Are you...hiding? On the lam? Not that it would stop me from going with you, my mind's set, Desperado." She asked, assuring that she wasn't even thinking of changing her mind. Suddenly, a new voice from behind Cordelia asked an accusing question.

"What the hell are you doing here, cagna? Boy, Wyatt and Alexander are sure going to enjoy this!" Sophia smirked as she emerged. As if things couldn't get any worse, heavy footsteps neared the wooden doors, and after a few moments, Mario lumbered through, his facial expression cocky, as if he knew what they were up to.

"This is dumb! Tell me, what the hell is wrong with going inside a damn kitchen anyway?" Cordelia snarled as she swept the roses decorating her hair. She had had enough of this treatment, and she was not going to sit there and allow it. Hell, even a stranger treated her better than this! She cracked her knuckles, getting ready to handle the bitch. Walking up to her, deliberately allowing her high heels to knock loudly on the floor, she grabbed the older woman by the front of her red silk dress.

"Sophia, I'm through with all this, and I'm fucking through with you!" She snarled, before punching Sophia on her left eye, then following it with one on her nose.

Colt "The Devil Spawn" Jackson
Fairbank

At this point, Colt tipped his hat forward to conceal his distant gaze, taking in her words, unsure what to make of them. “– and you happen to see this woman in my life…that’s what troubles me…Miss Cordelia. And don’t be so willing to part with what some of us have so easily lost.” Her willingness to sell her soul resonated within him – he felt for her. Could there really be such a woman, he thought. He knew nothing about love, had never felt it but something told him the woman next to him was far more complex than he could imagine. “I almost envy the bastard that ends up with that beauty,” he said, raising his eyes to meet hers again,”…me? I’m looking for the easy way out. ” Colt decided against telling her what it was he truly sought – a peaceful death with a clear conscience. He had nothing to live for but maybe that could change a small part of him almost dared to think.

“Martin, think I’ll kill him first,” he murmured as he bolted toward the swinging doors that lead into the kitchen. For reasons unclear at the time, it infuriated him that anyone could hurt her.

Before Colt could offer Cordelia a response, they were interrupted. In the blink of an eye, Cordelia was ripping Sophia apart with her bare hands. Just as Mario came in through the doors, Colt noticed a second man appear, he was chunky and had slop all over his face. Judging by his white apron, he was a cook. The man went for Cordelia, rampaging across the kitchen. “My Sophia! No!” he yelled, his eyes widening to impossible proportions. Without hesitation, Colt sprung forward faster than a lightning bolt and lunged himself at Cordelia before the cook could get to her, wrapping his arms around her to lessen the impact as they fell. He lay on top of her behind a large wooden table. “I’m the Devil Spawn, Cordelia and I’m here to massacre an infestation of vampires,” he revealed calmly as he pressed a handgun sideways against her chest, “use this, it has special silver bullets, the only way to make these motherfuckers bleed.”

Across the kitchen, the cook embraced a struggling Sophia who pleaded. “No, Diego, don’t…” she cried but it was too late. The brutish cook dug both fangs deep into her cleavage and his throat began to work, making a gulping sound, as he drained her blood. “My…my Alexander…” she recited like a broken record, her right hand reaching for the door as she fell to the ground. Almost immediately, two men emerged from the doors that lead back into the saloon – Alexander and Wyatt, both with angular features, skin as pale as snow and dark rings around their magenta-colored eyes.

“Disgusting,” Alexander said nonchalantly, amused at the corpse and more concerned about a dab of dirt stuck underneath his long fingernails than at the commotion.

“Cordelia, take care of the female, she’ll turn any second now but will be too clumsy in her new form, the others are too dangerous,” Colt instructed.

“Is someone there?” Alexander asked. “It’s Susanna Blue, Lord Alexander,” Diego quickly responded, “She’s back here with some…s-some man!” Alexander shot him a disgusted look. “Why do we keep this senseless pig around?” He whispered to Wyatt. “He cooks the girls for us, Alexander and he’s dumb as a rock.” Wyatt responded equally lifeless in his tone.

Four…two half-blood across the kitchen and two full-bloods by the door, Colt calculated the positioning of his targets as he began to formulate his plan. He shot Cordelia a last gaze before he sprang into action; he gave her a strong look of confidence, letting her know he’d get them out.

Emerald eyes glowing like the aurora, twin revolvers strapped inside his black duster coat, Colt rolled onto the table, maneuvering efficiently to pull out both guns and shoot four silver rounds in one fluid movement.

All four rounds found their intended targets. Mario’s went straight to the forehead; the dumbstruck thug fell to the ground with a loud thump. Diego's went straight through the chest, immediatly ending him. He was a lowly half-blood, he was easy, Alexander and Wyatt had pure forms and that made them deadly foes. The two bodies squirmed as something began to rip through their skin. Their limbs stretched to double their size and both of them formed snouts, their ears elongated into an apex and razor-sharp claws sprang from their gruesome hands. “Devil Spawn, this kitchen will be your tomb!” Alexander snarled before rushing Colt with amazing speed. He smashed Colt against the wall, pinning him by the neck with his protruding elbow – a mistake. Colt, the Devil Spawn, Jackson couldn’t tolerate being touched there even if it was in the middle of a fight. He gripped the vampire’s arm with his hand and pushed as hard as he could if only to lift the creature’s arm off him by a hairline; he drew a dagger with his spare hand and sliced off his aggressor’s hand in a clean, rapid slash. The wounded vampire retreated. “Curse you, Devil Spawn!” Alexander cried. Colt fell on his knees and gasped for air, gripping his neck. “I already am…” he managed to whisper.

Before Colt could manage a breath, Mario stampeded from behind. He picked up the Devil Spawn and flung him. Colt crashed hard against a wooden table, breaking it from the impact. At that moment, Wyatt glided forward with his snout wide open, exposing his fangs, his intentions clear. The vampire crashed hard with a powerful crunch but Colt reacted in time to drive a dagger into the roof of his mouth. Wyatt stood almost immobilized in shock. Colt drove the dagger deeper, blood trickling from the deep gash. He quickly raised his revolver and fired a pointblank round straight into the vampire’s head. Before he could finish Wyatt, he felt a tug on his leg. Mario swept him from the table and flung him once more like a ragdoll. Colt hit the wall hard but absorbed the impact with his shoulder. The annoying henchman charged Colt and swung but Colt managed to catch the fist with his own hand. He focused all his momentum on his right hand and smashed Mario’s teeth in with a ferocious clout. Right as the thug was falling back from the blow; Colt dashed forward and caught the half-blood’s neck between his right shoulder and arm in a lock as if carrying lumber. He used his spare hand in a lever motion to flip a dazed Mario over his back and break his neck, finally killing the brutish half-blood.

Cordelia "Susanna Blue" Murphy
Fairbank

"Oh, Susanna...ever the problematic one. Makes me wonder why Wyatt and Alexander took you in, especially when you've got nothing on me or anyone else here. Runaway, troublemaker, now poking your nose in places that you shouldn't be in. Give me one good reason why I should't call my Alexander." Sophia hissed, after crying out in pain from the impact, her red-coated lips raised in a knowing smirk, even as she held her face. Though her nose was bleeding, she regained her composure quickly. Cordelia's face did not show signs of giving in however, much less begging for mercy, which pissed Sophia off. One minute, she was in control, and now she failed to faze the redhead. Cordelia raised her fist once more, but her next punch was interrupted by someone grabbing her and pushing her forward. She looked up and saw to her relief, that it was Colt. it was short-lived, however, as heavy footsteps lumbered forward, followed by the last voice she wanted to hear...save for Wyatt's and Alexander's.

“My Sophia! No!” Diego, the cook, yelled as Cordelia saw him lumbering towards Sophia, while Colt was helping hide her behind a wooden table. Despite the dire situation, Cordelia couldn't help but find the scene hilarious, and let out a short laugh. It was painfully obvious that Diego was into the Italian girl, though the latter did not return his feelings, having a rather unhealthy obsession with Alexander to begin with. Colt, however, interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m the Devil Spawn, Cordelia and I’m here to massacre an infestation of vampires,” he revealed calmly as he pressed a handgun sideways against her chest, “use this, it has special silver bullets, the only way to make these motherfuckers bleed.” Vampires? In America? I thought it was just a rumor! Cordelia thought, clearly remembering how oddly Wyatt and Alexander acted at times but failed to recognize the signs. The heavy drapes in their carriage, the obscene amount of perfume they wore, their odd eye color their perpetually tired looks. They all made sense now, even though she did not expect this. Cordelia nodded and placed her hand on the gun, feeling for the trigger. Never in her life had she used a gun, but her life depended on it, and she was willing to learn. Holding it with her right hand, she practiced placing her finger on the trigger. Her silk gloves made her grip too slippery, so she slid them off, as well as kicked off her high heels. Damn the rules, she was going to do things by her own choice now. Across the kitchen, the spectacle did not end, as Diego had Sophia in his grasp and from what Cordelia was guessing based on the strangled cries she heard, was now digging his fangs deep into her neck. Sophia protested weakly, calling out for Alexander. Too bad your vampire "prince" ain't here to save you now, Cordelia thought as she heard the commotion, now smirking to herself.

The doors of the kitchen swung open yet again, Wyatt and Alexander emerging from behind them. They were impeccably dressed in fine outfits as usual, Wyatt Starr with his wavy light blond hair slightly messily framing his face and Alexander Martin, whose black hair was tied in a ponytail. The latter took a look at Sophia on the ground, before attending to his long nails once more. “Is someone there?” He asked. “It’s Susanna Blue, Lord Alexander,” Diego quickly responded, “She’s back here with some…s-some man!” Alexander looked at the messy cook, evidently disgusted. Wyatt's words struck her, however. He wasn't loud, but Cordelia heard him. “He cooks the girls for us, Alexander and he’s dumb as a rock.” The words struck her, though she tried not to show it. Was she approached just to become someone's food? How could I be so stupid! Nobody just approaches a girl and promises anything without a catch! I'm such an eejit..., she chastised herself.

“Cordelia, take care of the female, she’ll turn any second now but will be too clumsy in her new form, the others are too dangerous,” Colt instructed, pointing at the body before getting on top of the table and rolling towards the edge to deal with Mario, Diego and the two full-blooded vampires who were her masters...no, once her masters. Cordelia looked at her gun once more, then stood up, catching Colt's look of confidence towards her, which she returned with a thumbs-up. They were going to get out, alright. Gunshots rang in the air as Colt started to attack his targets, Cordelia noticing the way he shot. Bounding over to Sophia's body, she found herself more comfortable and quicker for the first time in two years, now that she was out of the heels that tormented her. Holding the gun over the body, Cordelia started to pull the trigger, just as she had seen Colt do moments ago, but suddenly, Sophia sprang up, her now-red eyes wide open as she swung her arms in front of her, trying to catch Cordelia. The redhead stepped back in surprise, before holding the gun up once again and firing. The bullet lodged itself on Sophia's right shoulder, and the transformed vampire shrieked in pain. She was still clumsy, but Cordelia remembered the things her parents used to tell her about the vampires. They were still vampires, and she was still human. If she became too cocky...

"Oh, Sophia...ever the lovesick one! What the hell are you gonna to do, now that your dear Alexander didn't transform you?" She taunted, causing Sophia to lunge at her and grab her. The girl's grip was strong...stronger than she remembered, evidently a result of having been transformed. Cordelia struggled to let herself loose amidst the ongoing chaos, her arms bruising from the pressure, but the vampire's arms wouldn't yield. Thinking quickly, she raised her arm and faced the gun towards Sophia's face and fired a shot once again. This seemed to work, as she felt the arms loosen around her. She gripped the gun tightly and pounded its body on her arms several times, forcing the vampire to let go. Cordelia had to kill her before she got used to her vampire body, Colt warned. Turning around and stepping backward, the Irish girl held the gun so that it was level with Sophia's chest. Colt had dealt with Diego and Mario, judging from the bodies on the ground, and now, all they needed to get through was Sophia. Wyatt and Alexander? They had nobody else here, nobody to defend them.

"Fuck you, Susanna Blue! I should've had Wyatt and Alexander eliminate you the first time you defied me!" Sophia cried, her face bloody from the gunshot as she advanced clumsily towards Cordelia. The bullet had lodged itself between her eyes. She was a far cry from her former self just minutes ago, her beauty all but gone. Cordelia laughed in reply.

"Who's the eejit here then, bitch? There won't be any more next times," Cordelia spat as she pulled the trigger and shot, doing so a few more times as long as she heard the woman scream. Only until the screams stop did she relent, having shot five times. Lowering her arm, she made her way towards the motionless body lying faceup. Bullets punctured Sophia's chest on both sides, her collarbone and between her breasts. Not wanting to be too confident, she aimed once more at the left side of Sophia's chest and fired a bullet, ending her.

Cordelia looked up once more and shuffled towards Colt, still holding her gun. The worst was far from over, and they still had to deal with Wyatt and Alexander, who had now taken monstrous forms. They were injured, but still very much alive, and there was definitely no reasoning with them...they had to be eliminated. Holding her arm up, she aimed at Alexander, the man who kept her under an iron grip for so long, and fired two shots at his neck. Unfortunately, Alexander had dodged one and the other bullet just hit the side of his neck. The monster retaliated by dashing forward and pinning her down, raking at her with his sharp claws. Cordelia felt Alexander's blood-laced breath hot, and struggled, trying not to allow him to take her weapon. Gripping it tightly with one hand, and balling her other into a fist, she started beating at him, not willing to give up, even if it meant dying. No, she wasn't going to call for help...if she wanted out, she had to learn to fight and take care of herself.

Alexander leaned in closer, towards her neck, and Cordelia didn't move her head...she couldn't move if she wanted her plan to work. She stretch out her arm and aimed the gun towards his neck, on his blind side, before firing twice once again in defiance.