7 VII. | 'O, truculent fortune...!'

'How many guys are there?'

'I counted forty-three. No, wait. I see another one.'

Hector furrowed his brow at the evening sky. 'Uh... holy shit... I mean, are you sure I can take forty dudes?'

'Of course you can. Probably. Oh, hey, it's that ponytail guy.'

'Ponytail guy?'

'You remember. You knocked his teeth out. I'm surprised he's out of jail already. It's barely been two days since he was arrested.'

'Perks of being on Rofal's payroll, I guess...'

'Even so, two days is a bit ridiculous. The police force must be more corrupt than we thought. Maybe lawyers, as well.'

Hector eyed the building another time. It didn't look like a drug den. It looked like a bowling alley. And it probably was, most of the time. The men loitering around the entrance were an indicator, however. They shooed away potential customers, despite the neon sign illuminating the street.

'Ah,' Garovel said, 'looks like Ponytail is here to move the money. Smart. This is probably why the police can't seem to find any of these cash houses. As soon as they start getting close, I bet someone in the department warns Rofal's people. Must be why there are so many of them here right now. They seem to be in a hurry. You should probably come introduce yourself now.'

'Will do.' He put his mask on and started down the street. The men at the front all stared at him as he passed, and when he circled around toward the back entrance, a few of them broke away to follow him. Several more were already waiting behind the building, alongside a parked truck with its engine running. A circle of Rofal's muscle grew around him.

'I, uh... I went around back,' he told Garovel.

"What are you doing here?"

"What's with the mask? Looking for a beating?"

"Hey, didn't Swank mention a masked guy?"

"Is that you, asshole? Huh? Say something!"

Garovel appeared from the wall and reached for him. 'I'm not sure I approve of all these new friends you've made, Hector.'

The strength blazed through him. He took a deep breath and moved for the door. The first man to stand in his way ate pavement. The others all took a step back at how quickly their comrade had been left bleeding on the ground, but after a moment, they seemed to find their courage again.

Three rushed him at once. He pummeled two into each other and took a metal baseball bat to the back of the head. When he turned around, shaking the disorientation away, the guy who hit him staggered back. Hector ripped the bat away and returned the favor, lobbing the man into four of his buddies.

They started pulling knives, and in the ensuing mayhem, he received six stab wounds, all in the gut, chest, and back. When there were only a few left, he was a bit surprised to see that instead of pulling guns on him, they just ran. Looking down at the blades stuck in his torso, he supposed he could understand their sentiment. He decided to leave the knives in a while longer.

Groaning or unconscious thugs riddled the alleyway, draped over the staircase, the side of the parked truck, and for one lucky winner, a 10-foot brick wall. Hector held onto the baseball bat as he went inside the building.

The first person he saw seemed more confused than aggressive, and Hector was kind enough to wait until the man attacked before punching him into next week.

'The money is in the rearmost room,' Garovel told him. 'Hold on a minute.' The reaper phased through the wall while Hector waited in the dimly lit hallway. 'Six men. Oh, Ponytail is talking about Colt. Rumors, he's saying... about Colt being a psychopath... but at the same time... forced to work for Rofal?'

'Wait, what...?'

'I'm listening... Bah. They're talking about food now. They want to go get pizza. At gunpoint? What the hell is wrong with these people? Please come stomp their heads in.'

He flung the door open and kicked the first man he saw across the room.

"What the fuck?!"

"Oh, shit! You!"

Hector leapt on his second victim and knocked him out cold. Now the guns were out, but the hail of bullets didn't stop him from reaching the third and fourth men and clapping their skulls together. Only Ponytail and another thug remained, fumbling too much to reload their weapons, their spare magazines clattering to the floor.

Hector stood in front of them for a moment, considering what to do next. Bashing their faces in hardly seemed necessary at this point, and besides, Ponytail's face was still swollen blue and purple.

He walked up and pulled their guns away from them. They both just stared at him, wide-eyed and cornered.

"What the hell are you?" said Ponytail. "I heard Colt killed you."

Hector eyed the table full of duffel bags in the middle of the room. He slung all seven bags over his shoulder with one hand.

'You're not going to stomp their heads in, too?' The reaper sounded disappointed. 'Well, at least threaten them before you leave.'

"I-I... uh... d-don't..."

'Hector, c'mon. Scare them. Just yell or something.'

'Yell? I can't... I don't... that just isn't--agh...'

Ponytail ran for the door.

Hector was on him in a heartbeat and kneed him back into the corner. "Please don't run..."

'Wait a minute,' said Garovel. 'Okay, no yelling. Just talk to them very quietly. Whisper, if you need to.'

'Really? B-but, uh...'

'Trust me. Speak very slowly and deliberately. Make them strain to hear you. Oh, and be polite, too. Say please, like just now.'

'Uh...' "Please tell your boss... that I'm coming for him..."

'Oh, that was good! Tell them that anyone else who gets in your way will be visiting the morgue.'

'But I don't want to kill them...'

'Of course, but THEY don't need to know that.'

'Ah, okay...' "And anyone who gets in my way... will be paying a visit to the morgue..."

Both of their faces went white.

'Aha, look at them! This is way better than yelling.'

'You're starting to creep me out, Garovel...'

'Me? You just about made them piss themselves with creepiness.'

He left the room, barely squeezing all the bags through the door. He knew there were still more men in the building, but he didn't see them before hearing the gunshot. The bullet tore through his jaw and ripped the mask from his face. His severed chin and tongue splattered to the floor in a gory mess.

Blood and drool oozed from the gaping hole in his face. Hector just turned and locked eyes with the shooter. It was a young guy, not much older than himself, holding a magnum unsteadily with both hands, but when he saw Hector, he dropped his gun and stumbled back.

More men rushed in from the entrance, but when they saw Hector, they all stopped.

"Holy fuck..."

"What is that thing?"

Hector's undead glare seemed enough to prevent any of them from taking another step. He waited a bit to see if they still wanted to fight, but when they merely kept staring, Hector picked up his dented mask and left.

As Garovel reconstructed Hector's jawbone, he stood at the other end of the street, waiting again to see if any of them would pursue. None did.

'I'm going to follow Ponytail back to Rofal. Once we know where his headquarters is, we'll be able to launch an assault at our leisure. You know your way home, right?'

His mouth completely reformed, he said, "Yeah."

The reaper looked at him a moment, bony fingers hovering in front of Hector's face. 'I'm going to bring the soreness back to let your body recover while I'm away. Are you ready?'

Hector groaned. "Go ahead..."

Pain exploded through his mouth.

"Ffff--! Kuh! It feels like my face's been ripped off!"

'Well. It was. Actually.'

He dropped to one knee, clutching his mouth with his free hand. "Fucking...! Agh...!"

'On the bright side, I'm sure the rest of your body feels completely painless by comparison.'

He stood and started walking again, trying to stifle his continued groans. "Fuck this hurts...!"

'Alright, potty mouth.'

"Fuck you! Agh! This is the worst one yet!"

Garovel laughed. 'Only joking. You should be swearing. It'll help you cope with the pain.'

"Fuckface!"

'Okay. You don't have to be insulting about it.'

"Just... ugh..."

Garovel floated off to go find Ponytail, and Hector was left to grumble his way through the night by himself. It wasn't long before he heard Garovel laughing again, however. 'It's fair to say we've stirred things up here. You left your chin behind, and it's freaking them out.'

'Oh... should I have... uh...' The pain made it difficult to even think straight. 'Should I have taken that with me?'

'Nah.'

'They won't, er... try to... study it and reverse engineer my power or something?'

'What.'

'I mean... uh... like... I dunno...'

'You're afraid they'll unlock the secret of immortality by studying your chin?'

'Is that... stupid?'

'Um. It's just impossible. Your flesh is just flesh. I'm what makes you unkillable. They could study your body all they like, and they wouldn't learn anything.'

'Okay... good.'

'You have a strange imagination by the way.'

'I'm just... trying to be diligent...'

'Right.'

'Uh... so... how much money do you think we got, anyway?'

'They're talking about that now, actually. Well. Yelling about it. Ooh, seventy grand, Ponytail says.'

Hector's eyes widened.

'Looks like Rofal consolidated several weeks worth of cash here from all over the city. I wonder if he was planning a big purchase.'

'Seventy thousand troas... what do I even do with this kind of money...?'

'That's our funding for critical purposes. No spending it on booze and hookers.'

Hector snorted. 'What about drugs? Meth and heroin are okay, right?'

'Oh yeah. Let's just give it all back to Rofal while we're at it.'

'Are you, um... er... are you sure we can even spend this money? Isn't it, like... being tracked by the government or something?'

'No. We didn't rob a bank. We just won't be able to make large purchases at licensed vendors without drawing attention.'

'R-right...'

'We could have stolen from Rofal's gun running business,' said Garovel, 'or his car theft ring, but money doesn't change hands nearly as often in those. And stealing from the prostitution business would have probably done more harm to the prostitutes than to Rofal.'

'But what if, uh... Rofal tracks the money himself?'

'Hmm. Fair point. You should stop and check for devices.'

'Alright.' He found an alley and put the bags down to search them all. Stacks of troas filled each, more money than Hector had ever seen in his life. A single-troa note was a blue-and-white paper bill with the bearded face of King Martinus I at the center. His great granddaughter currently wore the crown. 'I'm not seeing anything that looks like a tracking device...'

'Good. Store the money somewhere away from your house, just to be safe.'

'Okay.'

'Ponytail is finally leaving. I'm in pursuit.'