“If you don’t mind me assuming, Miss, I’d like to say that all those dangerous men out there don’t want the other dangerous men to know that they are here to kill you.”

“I believe so, yes. You see, my siblings…..”

Bal shushed her. He didn’t need to know the little details. He didn’t particularly care either. Bal just needed to know that his plan could work. Ell apparently didn’t like being told to shut up, as she folded her arms and mumbled something about ‘demon prettyboy’ under her breath. Bal wasn’t sure what a prettyboy was, but he took it as a compliment.

From Bal’s estimation, this whole situation was like a whole barrel of Brim-powder. It just needed one little light, and then, kaboom! Bal just needed something to ignite it……

“My lady, we need to move, now! Demon, if you have a plan, I would ask that you do it already!” Cas spat from his position at the door.

Bal’s acute hearing picked up the sound of light footsteps, creeping toward the door. The large one was right, now wasn’t the time to bully the small one. He had people to trick and obfuscate. He hastily stripped out of his suit and began handed the various items of clothing to Ell, who stood as if struck.

“What the hell do you think you are doing” She hissed

“Stripping”

“Well yes, I can bloody well see that! Why?!”

“It’s all a part of the plan dear. AND that suit was expensive, I don’t want it to get dirty. Protect it with your life.”

Bal winked at her before pointing towards the smashed section of wall that his grand entrance had produced.

“Large friend, if you would be a dear and get to the other side of that room. You look pretty tough, you should be able to break through the walls. They seem flimsy, I mean, I know they are flimsy. My head broke through one. Once you hear the signal, break through the back wall and out the back of this building. I’ll find you two later.”

Cas moaned and fussed about taking orders from an ‘unholy abomination’ but he still did what Bal asked, dragging the saddlebags along with him.

“Ah, one moment, I need to borrow a dress. If you don’t mind, Miss.”

Bal didn’t wait to hear an answer from the reddening Ell before he grabbed a garish pink dress from the bags. Bal ushered them out of the room, uncaring of Ell’s protests.

Now that the humans were out of the way, the real fun could begin. Bal felt a giddiness build in his stomach. He felt so light he could float away into the blue sky. It was always this way for Bal in those calm moments before a chaotic situation; he felt as though he could do anything. Luck was on his side. Fate favoured him.

He heard the creak of a floor board just outside the room. Showtime. Bal scrambled to throw the much too small dress over his head, tearing it at the seams as he did so. He was halfway through putting it on when the door opened. A couple wearing holy vestments peered in while exchanging meaningless pleasantries with the trio of black cloaked men with them. They also dropped their pleasant smiles and looked in the room, hands drawing hidden knives.

“AGH PERVERTS! RAPISTS!” Bal screamed in his best imitation of one his succubi mothers, barely controlling his giggle as he did so.

The assassins had not expected a half-naked man in a dress that failed to cover his genitals to be in the room, and they most certainly hadn’t expected said man to charge at them. Bal screeched as he charged into one of the false priests, ramming into him and crashing into the banister that was opposite the door. The force of the man and the probably demon was too much for the hastily crafted banister, and it splintered quickly. Bal and the assassin fell, crashing into a table on the floor below. The sound of the assassin’s knife clanking to the floor sliced through the quiet of the bar easily. The tension was palpable. No one knew what was happening. Hands went to sheaths. Eyes darted to enemies. This pervert in a dress wasn’t their target. The whole bar rested on a knife’s edge. Bal just needed to give it a little shove.

“ASSASSIN! THIS MAN IS AN ASSASSIN!” Bal screeched.

Chaos erupted to the chorus of metal scraping against metal. Every assassin in the building drew their blade, charging at each other. Bal span off the table, collecting the knife dropped by his priest friend. He drove it into the neck of a man sitting at the bar and mantled over the counter, ducking to avoid a knife being thrown in his direction.

The barman was cowering down beside him, hands over his hand and shaking as if there was an earthquake. Bal grabbed a bottle of whiskey, downing half the contents before offering it to the man. He stared at Bal, but still grabbed the whiskey, finishing it off. Bal grabbed another bottle and tore a bit of his already shredded dress. He soaked it in the foul-smelling alcohol.

“Got a light, friend?” Bal smiled at his cowering buddy.

Still in shock, the man reached into his pocket, hands shaking as he drew his match box. Bal snatched it off him and struck a match, holding it then to the dirty rag.

“Sorry about this, friend, but needs must unfortunately.”

Bal giggled as he jumped up, launching his bottle at the trio of black cloaked assassins who were fending off a group of five small green men. Small, green and very flammable men apparently. Their tiny screams irritated Bal’s sensitive ears as the fire spread across their skin. The small creatures surprised Bal then, as they leapt on to the men in black, spreading the fire to them as well.

Someone screamed ‘YOU!’, and Bal turned just in time to see a woman in holy vestments fly over the bar. Bal jumped back and landed on the floor as the woman misjudged her trajectory and collided with shelves full of bottles, causing an avalanche of glass upon her. Despite glass shards digging deep into her skin, she still managed to pick herself; just in time to see a broken bottle dig into her neck. Bal let go of the bottle as the woman dropped dead, blood fountaining from the wound.

Bal took a moment to stand back and admire his handy work. The bar was quickly catching fire as those mini men scampered about, trying to extinguish the flames on them but only managing to make things worse. Small groups of assassins and hunters still fought, crossbow bolts flying and knives finding necks.

The smoke grew heavy and Bal decided it was about damn time he made his daring escape. Taking one of the last in tact bottles of whiskey with him, he ducked and dived between the men, tumbling out the saloon doors, he rolled around in the dirt to put out the flames on his pretty dress. A shadow darkened his vision and he looked up. And up. And up. Mr. Skull Crusher was staring down at him with a blank expression.

As Bal picked himself off the ground, the monster grabbed his face and stared at his eyes for a few seconds before sighing and letting go.

“Green not red, hmmmmmmm” The man mumbled, any interest in Bal lost in an instant.

Bal took the opportunity to scramble away from the monster. He ran around the saloon, hoping to meet up with his summoner, but an arm appeared before him as he turned a corner. Bal crashed into it, landing hard on his ass. A meaty fist collided with his nose, knocking him out cold.