My plan was elegant in its simplicity, but that didn’t make it easy to execute or mean it was any less likely to get me killed. I revved the engine a few times and listened to the Hemi V8 roar its approval. I slipped the car into gear and grit my teeth. This was it, no turning back. My heart thudded in my chest. I gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel tightly with my hands. It felt the material torque slightly under the tension. I took a deep breath, pushed myself back against the seat, and took my foot off the brake. The car rolled forward slowly and then I jammed my foot down on the gas. The Hellcat leaped forward eagerly its tires biting hard into the concrete. I watched the speedometer as it rapidly swung around the digital dial toward sixty. It was almost a straight shot at the gate from where I had been parked. Most of it was downhill, so it wasn’t hard to get a good head of steam going. I let off the gas a bit as the Charger threatened eighty. The fence loomed largely ahead. There was no indication of a gate, but this was the spot that the Black Mesa trucks had pulled out, it had to be there. I just couldn't see it. I feathered the gas pedal again just prior to impact to get the wheels engaged with the engine again to provide the most traction as I hit the gate.

I heard a terrible clang and felt a strong shudder as the carbon steel push bumper of the Hellcat impacted the metal barrier. I registered a brief grinding noise as whatever mechanism powered the gate gave way to the speeding Charger. And then I was through, the entire door snapped off and fell away to the left. I smashed the brake and locked the wheel to the right. I started a drifting slide and I popped off my safety belt as the car bled speed. I thought of a Bollywood movie that I had seen a few weeks ago and figured I could give it a try. It felt like an appropriate way to dismount one’s horse, so I figured that my magic might give me an assist. Just before the car had come to a complete stop, I jammed it into park. Then, I popped the driver's door open and held on to it. The forward momentum of the car forced the door open and it dragged me along with it. I dismounted the car into a standing position just as it stopped. I had my rifle to my shoulder and was walking toward the warehouse all in one smooth movement.

I was lucky to have attempted the maneuver because even before my car had come to a complete stop one of the loading bay doors came exploding off the building. As the dust settled, I saw another one of the grey Flesh monsters come bounding out. Rather than the tight rictus smile, this one sported entirely too much lip. The grotesque flaps covered its teeth as it let out a rusty chainsaw roar and I thought I heard a bit of a raspberry sound come from its overly fleshy face. If the other golem had been Keith Richards, this one was definitely Mick Jagger.

Fortunately, for me at least, I was now an experienced Flesh Golem killer and was locked and loaded with the appropriate ammunition. As soon as the monster jumped down from the loading bay onto the blacktop surrounding the warehouse, I heard far-off gunshots. Tiny gibbets of flesh tore away from the golem around his knees and thighs. Teddy was trying to slow the beast with his MPX from range. I squared the Big Boy rifle on Mick’s meaty mug and opened fire. I worked the lever and cranked out five blistering headshots before I paused to see what effect my shots had on the golem. The explosive rounds had done their volatile work and Mick’s now headless body was crumpling to the pavement. I began a quick heel-to-toe walk toward the convenient entrance the golem had left me while jamming more rounds into the Henry rifle from my belt.

Just as I got the fifth round in, three more men jumped down from the loading dock. They looked like the scruffy, vaguely underfed men that I had regularly encountered as a property detective. Two of them were holding balls of fire and the other was holding a globe of sparking electricity. All three let loose their magical payloads as Teddy and I opened fire. Teddy winged the one on the far left and his aborted throw then flew into the ground incinerating him. I took the fire wielder on the right and his chest caved in from the impact of the magnum bullet then exploded outward like a bloody pinata when the magically explosive round detonated. I sidestepped the man’s ball of fire but walked right into the sparking ball of light. It immediately faded from existence as my anti-magic properties intercepted it.

My second round exploded off of a dome of green energy that had formed around the lighting mage. I saw several smaller impacts as Teddy tried to penetrate the shield. A fourth man jumped down from the loading dock with both of his hands extended like a mime with an invisible wall. By the strained, sweaty look on the man’s face, I doubted his shield would stand up to much sustained fire, but the lightning mage was charging up a second shot. I wasn’t necessarily afraid of the ball of lightning, but it was just a matter of time before one of these yahoos used their magic to start a very real fire, threatening me and the hostages inside. I grabbed one of the shield buster rounds from my ammo belt and fed it into the breach of the lever-action rifle. I quickly took aim at the shield mage and squeezed the trigger. The bullet passed through the shield with a dull pop and the man’s head exploded. Not an oversized magic explosion, just a regular .357 magnum versus a watermelon explosion. A quick lever pump and a second round exploded into the lightning mage. This one was a magic explosion, and the difference was sickeningly satisfying.

I had closed the distance to the loading bay now and picked my way through the bodies of the Mick Jagger and the dead mages. I hopped up onto the loading dock and checked the angles into the building. I didn’t see anyone else. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? I unloaded and leaned my Henry Rifle in a concealed corner, making a mental note to retrieve it and unslung my 1887 shotgun. My shotgun and pistols would be better for inside the warehouse. I held the 1887 down at the low ready position and slowly edged through the bay door into the warehouse.

There were few lights on inside, and some natural light was coming through dirty windows set at the tops of the walls. I paused while my eyes slowly adjusted, and the interior came into focus. It looked like an abandoned warehouse should. There were rows and rows of wire metal shelving, stretching almost twelve feet into the air. Many of the shelves were empty, or mostly empty. There were enough leftover boxes and crates to obstruct my view from end to end. Several small forklifts stood silent and dusty near the cargo bays of which there were three. It was quiet save a slight humming noise that I might have felt rather than heard. I focused on that feeling and it turned into an oppressive weight that fell over everything in the warehouse. My Weird Feeling fired for the first time, not an immediate icy spike of danger, but a cold, creeping dread. There was something unnatural here, a perversion of the natural order and the very air itself seemed to be rebelling.

Rather than the hot and humid atmosphere that I was expecting, the air inside the warehouse was cool and dry. It reminded me of an ancient crypt that hadn’t been exposed to the outside world in a hundred years. I started moving forward toward the main center aisle of the warehouse. My rubber boots were quiet on the smooth, dusty concrete.

I rounded the corner from the loading area into the main warehouse proper. As soon as I did, two fireballs flared to life in the hands of mages ahead of me. One was on the right side of the aisle and the other on the left. These provided convenient targets for my 1887 which barked twice in quick succession, extinguishing the flames. My body felt like a wire under heavy tension, taut, and responsive. I was acting before my mind fully comprehending what I was seeing. I paced forward now, striding confidently. It was Hogan’s alley for a time. A dark shape, silhouetted by some primary color would spring into view. Then I would ventilate it with eight pellets of double 00 buckshot. I moved ever forward swiveling at the hips, firing, and working the lever. During the brief interludes between sets of targets, I mechanically fed more of the plastic-cased rounds into the hungry maw of the shotgun. Its appetite was insatiable as I mowed down more and more targets. The light, dry air was growing heavy with the coppery scent of blood which was perfectly complemented by the spicy metallic scent of spent gunpowder. The combination was stimulating a primitive place in my mind and each shot, each death violently propelled me toward the next.

I was wondering if I was going to run out of shells when I ran out of targets. I scanned left to right and realized the silence was being broken only by the sound of heavy breathing. My own. It was not the heavy breathing of a man who had just run a mile, but rather a man who had just finished passionate lovemaking. I considered briefly the relation of sex to violence as a large crate struck me from behind. It hit me square in the back, sending me tumbling to the floor. I lost purchase on my shotgun and let it go free from my grasp. I rolled forward with the force of the blow and reached for the Rugers on my hips. As I came back to my feet, I stayed crouched as another crate sailed over my head. I pivoted around and saw two dark figures in the aisle behind me. One of the figures raised a hand and another crate lifted off the ground and came hurtling toward me. I dove behind a broad metal shelf, which absorbed the massive impact from the crate in my stead. The shelf shuddered dangerously and slowly began to topple forward. I quickly walked out from beneath the shelf which slammed into the next shelf in the row, causing a domino effect. As I emerged from my hiding spot, I unleashed a fusillade of fire at the telekinesis mages. The first few of my rounds were stopped in the air or diverted to the side. One bullet found its mark in the mage that was concentrating furiously. The gunmetal-colored tattoo flared brightly on his neck and illuminated his pained features. He had his eyes screwed shut and they stayed that way as he fell to the ground. I stopped missing due to magical interference and the other tattoo mage was shredded to pieces before he could lift another box.

I turned back to watch the shelves pitch forward, one after another. Their momentum froze without explanation and they stopped moving. The shelf reversed course and exploded backward toward the way it came. The shelves started to fall in complete disarray and I moved to the other side of the warehouse. A shape blocked out one of the skylights overhead. A man jumped from the top of one of the shelving units and tried to brain me with a crowbar. He had given up on magic in favor of a stealthy conventional attack. I smoothly stepped to the side and the crowbar whistled by my head. I fired two rounds into the back of the man, and he crumbled forward, dead.

On a hunch, I kicked the dead body over. I crouched and stared down at the face of Julian Smith. He was a friend and sometimes running mate of the dearly departed Billy Williams. I had a feeling that upon closer examination I would know several of the men I had just gunned down. I felt a knot twist in my stomach as a voice boomed throughout the warehouse.

“Enough!”

There was a sound like a thunderclap and a wave of force pushed toward away from the voice. I was unaffected, but several unseen men burst into gouts of fire in their hiding spots. The fires were all the colors of the rainbow and the men screamed as their bodies were quickly consumed. For the second time in as many minutes, I thought of Billy Williams and him combusting in that alley. Someone just murdered all these men, the tattoo mages. My Weird Feeling spiked to a new level as I watched what I could only describe as the spiritual remains of these men rush to the ceiling of the warehouse. But instead of escaping out of the top, they were forcefully diverted. They instead headed toward the voice.

The screams of the dying men echoed through the empty space and I stood and turned to face the back of the warehouse where the voice sounded. It was actually the front since I had come into the back through the loading bay. I slowly made my way to the voice as my hands reloaded my pistols unbidden.

“Agent Ruthersford, I know it’s you. Won’t you please join us? I have someone here I think you’d like to meet.” I recognized the clear, confident voice from Green Shoal park. It was the Sleeper.

I edged past the last row of shelves obstructing my vision and saw the robed figure. Next to him, sitting bound and gagged on a wooden bench, was Tina.