Adventure of Rekka Ch. 06

"Rekka, Tabitha, you're not hurt, are you?" Bill asked with concern, running his hands over Rekka searching for wounds.

"Nope! You didn't catch anymore arrows, did ya?" Rekka replied, leaning in close and enjoying the pat down. Tabitha merely shook her head in response to his question.

"No, but the night is young," Bill quipped, finishing his inspection and patting Rekka's ass affectionately.

Most of the inmates were wielding spears and short swords, now. A few grimly held onto their axes, waiting their turn to requisition a new weapon. They hadn't lost as many as he'd expected. He sighted Cato and waved him forward.

"Cato, glad you made it. I count thirteen guards down. Not counting that asshole up in the turret, how many more can we expect holed up inside?" Bill asked.

"Just one squad, five men and the warden left in there. There'd be more, but they left more than a week ago to enter the forest. No idea what happened to them," Cato said.

"Yeah, we met them. They're not going to show up any time soon," Bill said. "Ok, it's unlikely they're going to sally forth with seven men. Where's this artificer hiding?" he asked, looking around at the unfamiliar buildings.

"There, a small room next to the smithy," Cato said, pointing to a wooden door past what looked more like stables to bill.

"Alright, I have to go see a man about a gun. You guys hold the fort here, yell if you run into any trouble. Once I'm done we'll figure out what we're doing with the keep," Bill said as he jogged over to the door, glaring up at the turret. "I dare you to take a shot, asshole!" he yelled as he crossed the courtyard. The archer chose to remain hidden.

Bill tried the latch, but it was locked. Shrugging, he kicked in the door. It fell in with a satisfying clatter and he strode boldly into the small dimly lit room.

Bill shrieked in surprise when someone flung themselves at him, swinging a club into his side. His reflexive flail swatted the man back with a curse. He got a good look at his attacker.

A skinny young man, maybe slightly older than himself, stared at him defiantly as he clutched what appeared to be an unfinished musket barrel in his hands. He was probably a few inches taller than Rekka, his features vaguely Asian, and he'd not shaved in quite a while. A few old bruises could be seen on his face and arms. He was wearing the same rough tunic and leggings as the inmates outside, but his footwear was vastly different. Bill's eyes narrowed as he took in the bright green rubber.

"Nice crocs, douche," Bill said, guessing he'd just found another refugee from his own world.

"What? You! YOU did this to me!" the man screamed, hate filling his voice and looking like he was working himself up to attack.

"Calm your ass down, I didn't do anything. I'm nearly as surprised to see you," Bill responded, though he'd been suspecting it was another portal vacationer like him that had named the muskets.

"Oh. What, is this a rescue? Are you taking me home?" he asked, lowering the barrel and looking at him with hope in his eyes.

"Sorta. What's your name, dude?" Bill asked.

"Larry, man. What the fuck is the deal with this place? I've been here for months! Who are these primitive fuckheads?" Larry asked, dropping the barrel and sliding down the wall with his face in his hands.

"Damn, sorry Larry. I'm Bill. Sounds like you've had a much worse time of it than me," Bill said, glancing up as Rekka and Tabitha poked their heads in curiously.

"Hah, yeah. Dragged out of my dorm shower, several shades of shit kicked out of me, and then they haul me out to this fucking castle to make fucking muskets! There's no way your story can compare to tha- HOLY FUCK! What the hell is wrong with her eyes?!" Larry cried, pushing himself to his feet as Rekka came up beside Bill.

"Nothing is wrong with her, she's got beautiful eyes. Say hello to Larry, Rekka, he's from my world," Bill said, enjoying the man's surprise.

"Hi Larry! What are those?" she asked, pointing at his shoes with eager curiosity.

"Those are crocs, Rekka. My people wear them to warn others that they lack any sort of taste or refinement, so it's ok to pity him," Bill said, grinning.

"Fuck you, dude. I was just getting out of my dorm's shower, all I had on was these fucking things and a towel," Larry said distractedly, still staring at Rekka's hellhound parts. "Dude, what is she?" he asked.

"Ask her yourself, bigot," Bill said, starting to lose patience.

"Oh, uh, sorry miss. What, uh, are you?" Larry asked somewhat politely.

"I'm a hellhound! Tabitha over there is a jinko, we're mamono. It's nice ta meet another person from my husband's world!" Rekka said, not taking any offense.

Larry mouthed 'husband' while looking a question at Bill, who simply nodded, grinning.

Bill and Rekka were forced to shuffle to the side as Tabitha pushed her bulk forward. She was staring intently at Larry and began to do that odd scenting thing again.

"Oh. Uh, this is Tabitha, that's uh, her way of saying hello," Bill said, meeting Rekka's eyes. She shrugged, unconcerned.

"Wow, hello yourself. You must do a lot of crunches," Larry said admiringly as he looked her up and down. Mostly up.

Bill decided to see how this played out, figuring it killed two birds with one stone, after all.

"Wait, is that like, a flehmen response?" Larry said, suddenly very nervous.

"Fuck is that?" Bill asked.

"Animals kind of do that when they're taking in... pheromones," Larry said, edging away from the panting jinko.

"Hey, don't knock it til you try it, man," Bill said, grinning. He let Tabitha corral the poor man between his work desk and the wall before choosing to interrupt her courtship.

"Hold on a sec, Tabitha. I know you're hurting, girl, but we still have a keep full of guards to deal with," Bill said, gently taking her arm. He was surprised to see Tabitha's face twist with passionate desire for a moment as she stared at Larry. She quickly masked herself, face falling back into its serene lack of expression. Pulling herself back slightly, she nodded at Bill.

"I can control myself. I will," Tabitha promised.

"Good girl," Bill said, patting her arm.

"Alright, Larry. Business before pleasure. Why the hell are you making guns for these assholes?" Bill asked.

"Because some bearded fanatic in charge of these morons told me too. When I told him to get bent, his goons beat the shit out of me," Larry said, voice filled with indignant fury. "Enough of that and I was all too happy to build them some guns so they'd go off and shoot each other."

"Hate to tell you, they're not using them on each other. They're shooting at Rekka and Tabitha's people. One of your shitty muskets was aimed at Rekka here when it exploded in Matius's hands, blew his fucking face off," Bill said, his voice cold.

"Aw, poor Matius, he was alright," Larry said, looking sad for a moment before his defiant expression resumed. "Well, you can thank me for that. I made the powder chamber too large on purpose, they could really pack a lot in if they weren't careful, fucking savages."

"Huh... well, thanks for that, then. Still, we gotta destroy all these 'Boomsticks' before they learn how to make them for themselves, please tell me they're all here," Bill said, looking around.

"Hah, you caught that? Pretty good, huh? I didn't really know what to call them, seemed appropriate at the time," Larry said, scratching behind his neck self-consciously. "And no, only the unfinished ones are in here, and they never let me near the powder. The completed ones are up in the keep somewhere with that dickhead warden, along with all the powder."

"Shit, guess we are storming the castle then. You sure they didn't ship any off?" Bill asked.

"Nah, this asshole knight wanted them field tested before he'd take them to claim the glory. Now, that guy was a real prick," Larry said with feeling.

"Yeah, met him. He's real dead," Bill said absently, now staring back out towards the keep. "We need to get in there, trash those guns. First let's wreck all these parts, you got the blueprints here?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, but they've got copies up there somewhere, too," Larry said, waving towards his cramped work desk.

Bill walked over and casually bent one of the barrels at a 90-degree angle.

"Holy shit, how'd you do that? This metal is trash, but there's just no way..." Larry said with awe.

"What, you didn't get magical super strength when you came here? Man, you got gypped," Bill said, twisting the remaining two barrels together with a grunt of effort.

"Magic? Fucking magic now? Christ! No, all I got was my ass kicked and turned into a slave," Larry said, furious.

"That's a damn shame. Guess I'm the chosen one. Well, let's go destroy all your hard work then, sidekick. Tabitha, keep him close," Bill said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder at Larry while he rolled up anything that seemed to have schematics on it. He'd burn it all at the same time to be sure.

"What? Hey! This isn't necessary, damnit!" Larry said as Tabitha placed her huge paw onto his shoulder possessively.

"I will guard him carefully," Tabitha said, bending slightly to sniff at Larry.

"Look, I'm not going anywhere, watch the claws," Larry said, rolling his eyes to peer at her claws lying gently across his shoulder and chest. Suddenly he looked at Bill, "Wait, there's not just the muskets. I made a prototype first, but they said it was too complex, fucking Neanderthals. I want that, I didn't get any lousy magic super strength, I need to protect myself!"

"Fuck that, they're too dangerous to have around. I don't want these people getting any ideas," Bill said.

"What are you, some kind of anti-gun communist?" Larry asked, glaring reproachfully.

Bill flushed furiously. "Fuck you, man! I've got a shotgun back home that'd put your stupid exploding matchlocks to shame!" Bill shouted back at him. Truthfully, he'd been having similar thoughts. It felt damned unpatriotic to be on a quest to take away people's guns. His conservative father would die of shame if he ever found out about this escapade. He felt slightly better knowing he was invading a sovereign nation, stealing its women and enriching himself in the process.

"Fine, I'll think about it. If anyone asks, you're a goddamn wizard, right?" Bill said, glaring at Larry. He nodded back, mollified.

"It's pretty sweet, you're going to like it, way better than these terrible muskets," Larry said, voice filled with pride.

Bill ignored him, sticking his head out the broken door to glare up at the turret. He saw a figure quickly duck behind cover.

"I swear to God I will climb that tower and throw you off if a single arrow comes my way, I shit you not!" Bill yelled, cautiously stepping into the open. The archer wisely stayed down. He waved the others towards the keep, continuing to glare up at the tower. Once they'd made it across without incident, he joined them.

"So, how many finished muskets have they got in there, Larry?" Bill asked as they gathered near the heavy wooden doors of the keep, watching the arrow slits for movement.

"Four, I've only made five in total, enough to demonstrate volley fire to whoever's financing this operation," Larry replied.

"Great, so we've likely got four loaded muskets waiting for us, not to mention your damn prototype. This is going to be ugly. Luckily, we've got some very enthusiastic troops we can send in first," Bill said, looking over at Cato and waving.

"Don't worry about the prototype, these primates can barely load it," Larry said, snorting. Bill ignored him to focus on Cato's grave but determined face.

"Cato, just the man I was looking for. Line your men up, we've got one last glorious charge and this is all over but the screaming," Bill said, smiling confidently.

"Why don't your women just tear down the door and sort this out? They're much better at this," Cato said, not allowing himself to be fooled by Bill's obvious treachery.

"Look, they will, we just need you to distract the guards while we sort the doors out. Once they're open I need you all to rush them and we'll be hot on your heels, you have my word," Bill said, not exactly lying. He'd just be waiting for a few musket shots before coming to their rescue.

Cato sighed, waving the inmates forward. They jogged forward eagerly, ready for more vengeance.

"You've played us fair so far, we'll do it," Cato said.

Bless his honorable heart, Bill thought with a pang of guilt he quickly suppressed. Maybe the ones that ended up catching a bullet would be child predators or something. They probably didn't throw you in this terrible place for tax evasion.

"Yeah, you can trust me. Just, uh, hang back and support your men from behind, they'll feel better knowing you've got their backs," Bill said, trying to minimize his bad karma.

They all bunched up in front of the heavy wooden doors, Rekka and Tabitha to each side, Bill pressed up against the wall with Larry. The inmates stared at the door, eager with anticipation. Bill nodded at the women, who both turned and kicked the doors simultaneously, sending them crashing down into the room. The inmates surged forward.

The guards' response was explosive, literally. The first six inmates were scythed down, some of the bullets going completely through to strike the man behind. Bill peeked around Rekka, saw that there were four guards, clouds of smoke making details impossible. They each hastily threw down their empty muskets and pulled out swords, charging the now disorganized chaos that had been a valiant charge moments ago.

"That's our cue, ladies," Bill said, pushing forward. He made only a couple steps before Tabitha and Rekka flew past him. The poor guards didn't stand a chance. They weren't dead, but they were real unhappy. Though, the remaining prisoners were giving them speculative looks as they gazed between the corpses of their friends and the groaning guards.

"They're pretty gentle with them, considering those claws," Larry said, coming up behind Bill.

"Yeah, I noticed that too. I think they just prefer to avoid killing. Rekka's had the opportunity and most of her victims have limped away," Bill said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Striding forward he picked up one of the muskets and swung it into a stone wall with all his might. The stock shattered, and the barrel bent into a useless shape. He quickly did the same to the others, as Larry looked on a little mournfully.

"Don't touch the pieces, we'll have a nice bonfire and bury what's left," Bill said to the inmates. Now he wondered where the warden was holed up. He walked over to one of the less damaged guards and nudged him with a foot.

"Hey, tell me where your boss is and I'll make sure they don't cut your throat. Best deal you'll see tonight," Bill said amiably.

"Up those stairs, oak door, gold trim," the man said immediately, edging away from the inmates.

"Thattaboy, you'll see tomorrow yet. Don't kill them, Cato. Well, this guy anyway. I'm going to have words with the warden," Bill said, nodding at the man, pleased to see he'd taken his advice and led from the rear. Bill took the stairs with a spring in his step. Rekka followed eagerly, with Tabitha coming up behind them. She'd taken Larry back under her wing, well, claw.

The upper portion of the keep was much more finely furnished than the spartan first floor. He supposed that was where the guards lived. Up here there were fine tapestries, a few paintings, and even a nice vase or two. Quickly he found the door the guard had told him about, polished oak lined with gold filigree.

"Watch this, you two don't get to have all the fun," Bill said, grinning at Rekka.

Leaning back, he kicked his foot into the door beside the latch. His foot punched right through the wood, trapping it neatly. Bill yelped with fear as he felt something hit his boot, stopped by the steel toe insert.

"Cor, he's got metal feet," a man's awed voice carried through the thick door.

"Fuck! They've got swords! Pull me back!" Bill yelled, hopping backwards. The door swung open, giving him no leverage to pull himself free. Rekka gave him an amused look before darting through the opening, once more pulling his ass from the fire.

"Smooth move, ex-lax," Larry said, laughing as Bill tripped, tearing the door free from its hinges and landing on his back. The door fell on top of him as he cursed. Peering around the door, he saw that Rekka had the final guard pushed up against the wall as she growled at him menacingly.

"Where's the warden?" Bill called, having disentangled himself and stepping into the room.

"Right here, villains!" a small well-groomed man shouted as he popped up from behind the desk. The man was small, the gun he held was not. It looked like some kind of steampunk's wet dream, beautifully worked with silver filigree. Most of it was shiny metal with a polished wooden stock and foregrip. There was a drum magazine hanging from it, with a large silly looking crosshair attached to the end of the short barrel. Bill froze, staring down a barrel that looked to him the size of a train tunnel.

Bill waited for his life to end, but the moment didn't come. The man suddenly looked very nervous, glancing down at the gun and shaking it.

"Fire, damn you! Why won't it work?" he groaned.

"Here, let me show you," Larry said, casually walking into the room, patting Bill on the shoulder as he passed.

"Oh, thank you, artificer, that would be most helpful," the warden said, passing the gun over to Larry when he reached for it. Larry promptly bashed him across the face with the stock, turning it on the surprised and terrified man as he shouted at him.

"You didn't turn off the safety, you stupid little fascist! You're lucky I don't shove this up your ass and pull the trigger! Do you remember all the beatings you ordered? I remember! I remember all of them! Half rations when I didn't work fast enough?! Fuck you! I'm in charge now, asshole! Dance for me! DANCE!" Larry screamed at the cowering warden, flecks of spittle flying.

"Whoa, easy there, killer," Bill said, reaching around him and lifting the gun from his hands. He let Larry get in a few kicks before pulling him back, the guy really needed to let off some steam. Turning the weapon over in his hands, Bill was deeply impressed at its complexity. This rifle was a lot more advanced than a simple musket. It looked a bit like a medieval Tommy gun. Poking tentatively at a lever next to the magazine, it dropped free. Larry turned his anger onto Bill now.

"Hey, don't touch, your crazy strength could damage it. It's unique, I never thought I'd have to build a gun before, so I kind of improvised a lot of it," Larry said, picking it up and placing the magazine under his arm. He held out his hands and Bill reluctantly handed it back to him. Larry cleared the chamber, the action reminding Bill of a scaled-up luger. He was surprised to see three pieces fly out, instead of the single cartridge he expected. Larry caught them with practiced ease.

"They can't machine bullets properly, so I just fabricated some percussion caps and paper shells. All by hand. You load them into these casings and load those into the magazine. Solid slugs, mostly, this thing is a canon," Larry said, fussing over his baby proudly. "They can't manufacture springs worth a damn, so it jams all the time, and never works semi-auto. There should be a cocking lever for a crossbow around here somewhere, normally I just use that, see the holes here? The rate of fire is pretty respectable with that, if you're not too concerned about accuracy."

Bill just nodded, he'd never really been that interested in guns, saw them more as useful tools and something to have in case of home invasion. The shotgun he owned was probably just as likely to be used for zombies, truthfully. His father would have been ecstatic, though, and singing Larry's praises for his ingenuity. That man had a huge collection, just waiting for the government to come and take them. Probably be the happiest day of his life.