1 Prologue: Gunslinger

A thunderous boom echoed through the late-night silence, and half of the searching party flinched and looked west, in the direction of the sound. They saw the same thing they had been seeing since leaving camp just after sunset: tall, waist-thick, and rough-barked pine trees, whose fallen brown needles carpeted the forest floor. The man at the head of the party, who wore a thick leather vest and black fedora, kept his eyes on the small tablet dwarfed by his right hand while toying with the large revolver cylinder set in his other palm. Every minute or so, the device would emit a soft beep, and a green radar wave would creep down the screen from the top left corner. The person that the beacon was guiding them to was not yet in sight, but the party was well-prepared to meet them, both in terms of numbers and equipment. When the beacon had turned itself on back at camp, its blips had come in twenty minute intervals. The man with the fedora and vest knew that everyone was getting irritable after more than two hours of monotonous hiking, but he was pleased with how quiet they stayed, if only out of habit, or fear. The last person who had complained while the party was out on a search had been the former eighth member of the party, and hadn't woken up the next day. The man with the fedora wasn't the only one who had to act surprised that morning, while cleaning his palm cylinder and its supporting mechanism.

Another ping came from the beacon, and a bright green dot came into view. A thin, yellow-toothed smile cracked across the leader's lips, and he raised the beacon above his head, stopping the party in their tracks. Turning over his shoulder, he pointed to the screen and declared, quiet as he could, "See that? We're nearly on them. Who's got the rope?" A thin, dark-skinned arm shot up from the half-dozen heads, clutching a coil of thick, rough rope. It had restrained nearly a half-dozen new arrivals to the world during searches like this one.

His smile straightening into a thin line, the leader gestured the tall young man forward. He wore a uniform-like combination of thick beige pants and shirt, whose brass buttons were stained and dented. He stopped stiffly in front of leader, who snapped his fingers a few times as he looked him over, trying to recall his name. "It's uh, um, Minié, right?" The tall young man's nervous, but ear-to-ear smile told him he was correct, and the leader continued while starting to walk again, "You get to be my partner this time around. You know what that means?"

Putting his arm through the rope coil, Minié nodded. "Yessir. Just play it cool, keep my eyes on the new guy. Or gal. And my mouth shut."

A hollow chuckle came from the leader's throat, and he reached up to take the young man by his bony shoulder, leaning him to the side and making him adjust his flat cap. "Good kid. Here's hoping you don't get jumped like, oh, shit, what was his name? Girl with the dagger cut his throat when he tried to help her up?" Minié's face went blank as another beacon ping showed the dot a quarter of the way down the screen. His mouth hung open, searching for a response. The leader fixed his dirt-brown eyes on Minié's face, studied it for a second, then dropped the hand from his shoulder. "Doesn't matter. You know what to do."

After a few minutes and three quick pings on the beacon, the dot was nearly at the center of the screen, and the leader had his party take a slight left turn. Ducking under a low branch, he adjusted his fedora and wiped sweat from his brow with the yellowed sleeve of his once-white shirt. As much as he would deny it if anyone dared to ask, he was nervous. The incident with the dagger girl had only happened a few weeks back, and it had not been the party's first failure with a beacon target. He had thought over what he should say to the new arrival a lot since then, but the best he could come up with was just to appear friendly and harmless, and play a sympathy card if he got the chance. People reacted differently to finding themselves in a whole new environment, and thanks to the possibility of intuitive weapon users like the girl, some caution was necessary, even if it seemed suspicious. The rope was the simplest and easiest to handwave form the party had come up with. To try to keep uncertainty out of mind, the leader called softly over his shoulder, "No wasting time once we find them, understand? Tie 'em up, then piss off and stay still. If you make so much as.." He was interrupted by a hushed grunt from Minié as he tripped on something, and caught himself with the arm the rope was around. The leader narrowed his brow and clenched his jaw, but before he could chastise the uniformed young man, a moan like a yawn came from what Minié's foot had caught on. The whole party took at least a step back as Minié fell flat on his back and the leader's eyes widened. Another young man, seemingly between his and Minié's height and age with messy, dark hair, and wearing a padded tunic, was lying on the forest floor. When he stopped stirring, the leader scanned the faces of the party, and made circles in the air with his hands. Half of them went off in different directions to conceal themselves, two crowded Minié, trying to get the rope out from under him, and one of them gingerly lifted the sleeping young man by his underarms and propped him against the nearest tree before darting off herself. Looking at the beacon to confirm his suspicions, the man with the fedora did indeed see the green dot in the center of the screen. The thin, but not lanky young man with pine needles in his hair was the person they had been wandering around in the dark searching for. Someone with no knowledge of the world who couldn't so much as remember their own name, but might be lucky enough to have the power to burn it down. An uneasy smile spread across the leader's face, and he hoped, as he usually did, that this would be the last time they would use the beacon.

Five minutes or so passed, and the newcomer had not yet woken up. The leader had both taken off his hat and put on a thin, but loose pair of stained black gloves to hide his palm-cylinder. Sitting a few yards away with one knee up, he slapped his fedora back on, covering up his bald spot, and tapped the still-standing Minié on the leg. The uniformed young man's eyes snapped to his leader in nervous anticipation. "Kick him." Minié hesitated, and his mouth half-opened as he did a double-take between the restrained young man and the leader, who sighed through his nose. "Just wake him up." Minié gulped, stiffly walked to the tree, and halfheartedly booted the young man in the side.

This time, he let out a low groan, and his eyes fluttered open, making Minié fly back to the leader's side, who leaned backwards just slightly. As the newcomer's earthen green eyes came to rest on him, he put on the widest smile he could, and gave a small wave with his right hand, keeping his left hidden. "Hey there. You don't look too good, kid."

The bound young man blinked a few times, squinted at the two figures in front of him, then realized he was tied to a tree, with his arms pinned to his sides. He struggled against his rope a bit while asking, "The hell's up with this?"

The leader gave a deliberate shrug, and pinched his mouth into a line. "Can't say. We just found you like that." Lazily pointing to the young man, he said to Minié, "Help him get his arms out." Almost too quickly, Minié trotted back over loosened the rope and helped yank the young man's arms free. After clenching and unclenching his fists a few times, one of his eyebrows lifted, and he rolled up his sleeves as best he could, revealing a leather band around each of his forearms, halfway between his wrist and elbow. 'Now, what are those for?' thought the man with the fedora. He had neglected to look the young man over for augmentations on the off-chance he woke up before or while being restrained. "Are they tight? We could help you get them off."

The newcomer hesitated for a minute as he stared at his arms, his mouth opening, then closing again. "No, no. Since you haven't really untied me, I assume you want something?"

The leader shook his head and smiled. "Not at all. We're just being careful since we don't know a thing about you. Maybe this will help clear things up." He reached into the pocket of his vest, produced a thin, wide gold coin, and flipped it into the newcomer's lap. Maneuvering it into his right hand, he turned it over a few times and gave the man with the fedora a side-eye. "Read it."

The young man did a double-take between Minié and the leader, sighed, and squinted to read the small, blocky lettering in the near pitch-black of the forest. The leader knew what was written on the coin by heart, having gone over it many times when he first woke up, alone in the desert a long way north. "From chaos they are birthed, the great silencer. Whosoever finds them first may attempt to command or kill them. Survive to prevail." The young man said the word below the ultimatum, "Magnum," with distaste, before flipping the coin back to the leader, and leaning against the tree. "And a fancy mushroom cloud on the other side. You must be really rich to be able to get stuff like this with your nickname printed on it. Unless you stole it off a guy named Magnum?"

The party leader looked down to the forest floor, shaking his head. "Not quite. My name's Magnum, and this is my coin, but it wasn't really made for me, I think. I bet you have one, too."

The newcomer huffed, a thin smile coming to his face. "What makes you say that?"

Magnum's smile grew slightly. The ruse was nearly set. "Not everyone has coins, not everyone's like us." Slowly, he revealed his left hand and took off its glove, then nodded to Minié, who rolled up his sleeves to reveal the rifle actions built into his elbows, which were much more organic compared to Magnum's metal cylinder. The young man's expression shifted quickly to confusion with a touch of fear. "I can't really blame anyone who says we're dangerous, but we're just trying to survive. Do you think you got knocked out and tied up? Are you having trouble remembering anything?" 'I hope my idea about those straps is wrong.'

The newcomer glanced off into the dark trees and huffed again through his teeth. His expression went back to skepticism before softening a bit. Sifting through the pockets of his outfit, he said, "Yeah, guess I am. Never thought I'd get dragged into a human experiment, or whatever the hell our deal is. If my new name's comes from my coin..." as he trailed off, the young man drew his own coin from the front pocket of his tunic. His eyebrow raised again as he looked it over, and re-read the same text that had been on Magnum's coin. His brow narrowed as he reached the end again. "Kite? What kinda name is Kite? Can you fly me on a string?"

In the moment of awkward silence that followed, Magnum put the pieces together. 'Kite shield, complete with arm straps. Great. What use is one guy with one shield to us?' He let his expression harden as he stood, pocketing his gloves. "That mushroom cloud on the other side. We're looking for the person who can make them. If we can prove to everyone without coins that they aren't dangerous...."

"Can I join up with you two?" Kite interrupted, his face looking more childish. Magnum and Minié both glanced at each other, almost in disbelief. Kite seemed to take their hesitation as reason enough to continue. "I'm pretty sure I'm not whoever this nuclear person is that you're looking for, but I figure it's worth the three of us sticking together. You two seem like you know what's what, at least."

Minié took the hint without Magnum needing to do anything, producing his coin from his pants and displaying the text side. "Sure. We would be happy to have you along."

A wide, toothy smile came across Kite's face, and he nodded his head before focusing in on Magnum, whose face hardened again. "Alright, cool. If you could just untie and knight me or whatever, I can start being your newest mute henchman." Minié's smile was nearly gone in an instant. Kite closed one eye and cocked his head to one side, then did it again on the other side. "No, obedient crony." His smile widened until it was ear-to-ear, and leaning forward, he looked to Minié, whose jaw had half-dropped. "Actually, I wager he keeps you around as a sex slave."

Minié's lips curled as he picked up a nearby branch and started towards Kite. "What was that?" But, before he took two steps, Magnum's boot connected with the back of his right knee, making him drop hard onto a tree root. Stepping slowly towards the half-bound young man while his "partner" winced and groaned softly, Magnum dropped to one knee just out of Kite's reach.

The young man met his stony face with a defiant smirk. "You wanna hit me yourself? Go ahead, then. If you really wanted to help me, you should've made sure I didn't get kicked in the head before you tied me up." Swiveling his head around, he continued, "I don't even know where I am, but you think I'm worth chatting up and taking along? Please. The nuclear person must scare you shitless if the rest of you are hiding there. Whatever you want with them, it's..."

Putting the pinched thumb and index finger of his right hand at Kite's eye level, Magnum slowly opened them, silencing the young man and making his eyes widen. A revolver round began materializing between Magnum's fingers, seemingly out of nowhere. Once it was full-sized, about the length of his thumb, and as thick as the nail, he popped the cylinder out of his left palm and put it in one of the seven chambers. Flicking the cylinder back in place, Magnum started it spinning with three fingers and stopped it by clenching his fist. Kite began to protest and raise his arms in defense, but Magnum quickly pressed his index and middle fingers to the young man's forehead, which noticeably quickened his breathing and made him raise his hands in surrender while rendering him speechless. Another yellow-toothed smile cracked across Magnum's face, and he turned to Minié, who was just getting back to his feet, favoring his left leg. "See that? Real easy to shut someone up if they know you can hurt them, but you don't." Taking three steps back, the man with the fedora replaced the glove on his right hand, and turned to face the newcomer again. Kite's mouth was curling up like a dying insect and his fists were clenched. "Got something else to say?"

Kite half-opened and closed his mouth a few times quickly, only one word getting out at first. "Cowards." Magnum put his right hand on his hip, unimpressed. "That's all you are. No doubt, you'd do this somewhere down the line, but you wanted to dupe me first, make it easier to figure me out, see if I'm worth keeping around. If you've got magnum bullets, what do I have?"

Magnum stood tall and firm, and looked at his other hand, the round still in the cylinder. "Shields, I think. Let's have some fun." Throwing down his other glove, he spun the cylinder and pointed his fingers at Kite again, who raised his arms to cover his face. "Three insults, three shots. Put a shield up and block my bullet, kid, and just maybe, I'll let you go."

Kite's hands dropped to chin level, his eyes widened, and his mouth gaped. "What?" Looking at the straps on his forearms again, he put the left in front of his face and began to struggle to stand up and shake off the rope.

"It's easy. Just imagine it where you want it, and it'll be there." Magnum pointed his left thumb straight up. "One." As it dropped onto his index finger, the cylinder made a sharp click and rotated, but did not fire.

Kite squeezed his eyes shut as it dropped, and after a minute, opened them, and began trying to force the rope up past his head. "Sonuvabitch..."

Magnum pointed his thumb upwards again, dirt-brown eyes fixing on Kite's face, daring him to return the stare. "Two." Again, the cylinder clicked, and the round was left unfired.

Kite resigned himself to smacking his arm with his right hand, and muttering, "Come on!"

Magnum's thumb fell, and the cylinder clicked for a third time. Kite stayed still with his left arm in front of his face, and his eyes squeezed shut. "Three. Lucky you, kid. You're all talk, but lucky." He raised his left hand in the air, and the rest of the party came out of their hiding places and circled the pair, including the staggering Minié.

Kite jerkily looked around the party as he desperately struggled to free himself, his lips squeezed together. "I'll get you for this. All of you, I'll.."

"Teach him a lesson, but don't kill him. He ain't worth the trouble." As the ropes were quickly loosened, a rain of indiscriminate kicks and punches came down on Kite, which lasted no more than ten seconds. A few sharp grunts and small, airy cries of pain creaked out of the young man as he tried to stay solidly balled up, his hands covering the back of his neck, elbows trying to protect his head. Magnum was the only one who did not participate, simply retrieving his discarded glove and watching the beatdown occur. When it was over, Kite's breathing had become a series of irregular, labored gasps, and Magnum faintly smelled blood. As the party dispersed, he let them start back to camp at their own pace. Leaning over, he spun his cylinder next to Kite's face, making the young man twitch, before he turned and left him in the dark, bleeding on the forest floor.