Page 129 of New Storm Rising
The man swallowed. “P-please, don’t shoot. I came unarmed!”
“Then you’re a friggin’ idiot. Eyes front. Move.”
“Si, Señor!”
“I ain’t no bloody senior, buddy! Nowshut up and move!”
With the barrel of the gun pressed into his neck, the horseless rider was manoeuvred through the streets of the desolate town. First they went left, then right, then twice left again…all too soon, the poor man’s head was whirling, and he lost his sense of direction. When they finally stopped, he glanced around to find out where they’d ended up, only for his eyes to land on a…
“A…bank?”
A dark chuckle came from the entrance.
“Ya know, I dunno why people always are so surprised. Everyone’s always expecting outlaws to rob banks. Why would we, if there’s a much simpler way of doing things?”
“Very true,” another voice came from the shadows. An insidious one, hissing like a snake. “It’s a brilliant plan, really. Why do people keep robbing banks? It’s so much easier to just take one over and let people bring all their money to you.”
“Yeah,” a third voice came. Sharp, mocking and acerbic. “The only problem is that sooner or later, those stupid bastards don’t have any money left and start starving and dying on you. Damn annoying!”
“Oh, but if that happens, one can always move to a new town,” came the snake hiss once again. “After all, there are so many around to choose from…”
Laughter issued from the ruined buildings all around. It made the horseless rider’s skin crawl.
“Now then,” the same insidious voice that had described the starvation of people as a brilliant plan came again. “Sarge, why don’t you share with us what kind of toy you’ve brought for us to play with?”
Everything went quiet. All eyes, and most likely more than a few gun barrels, focused on the exhausted Spaniard.
“I…I have a message.”
“Do you, now?”
The Spaniard nearly jumped out of his skin. This time, the hissing voice had come not from across the road, from the entrance of the old bank, but from right behind him. The horseless rider whirled around—and there he was! Right beside the grubby man who was still pointing a gun at him stood a tall figure in black with slitted eyes and a twisted face that he’d seen many, many times before.
On wanted posters all over the country.
“C-Cobra.”
“Oh?” The man cocked an eyebrow, something which snakes do not usually possess. Yet, contradictorily, it made him look only more like an insidious reptile. As did the smirk flickering over his face. “Heard of me, have you?”
“Y-yes.”
“My, my. I’m flattered.” He smiled—then struck! In the blink of an eye, he was in front of the Spaniard. Something flashed, and there was a prick at the frozen man’s throat. “Now…do you have a reason why I shouldn’t kill you?”
“I-I have a m-message.”
“I’m still waiting for the reason.”
“Th-there’s a reward!”
The knife dropped.
“There, now. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Cobra stepped back. The Spaniard almost wished he hadn’t. Now, he could once more see something much scarier than the knife: the desperado’s face. “How much.”
“However much you want.”
That one sentence instantly threw a blanket of silence across the gang.
“How much did ya say?” The growl that came from the interior of the bank sent a shiver down the Spaniard’s spine. It wasn’t a sound a human would make. It was the growl of a beast.
