The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus 3

by Michael Anderle

  James shrugged. “The asshole’s a dirtbag, and I want to test some shit out anyway.”

  “’Test some shit out?’” Tyler shook his head and tapped on his phone. “I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. Almost. Sending you the address now.”

  James didn’t bother to park his F-350 in the lot, instead pulling right up to the front of the seedy dance club, The Second Circle. The stylized red-orange letters spelling out the name had been designed to mimic flames.

  The thumping bass from inside the club already annoyed him. He hated having to take assholes down in places like this.

  Huh. If I end up in actual Hell, it’ll probably be some shit like this, and offering me a tray of ribs I can never reach.

  Shay loved dance clubs, but if someone came out and told James they were a twisted Oriceran plot designed to fuck humans up, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

  Why do people subject themselves to that shit? They really hate being able to hear?

  James opened the driver’s door, jumped down, and headed toward the huge bouncer. A few other people waiting to get in backed away when they saw him, although a few others took pictures with eager smiles.

  The bouncer frowned and stared at James. It was rare that a human managed to make James look small, but as far as the bounty hunter was concerned, that just made the bouncer a larger and easier-to-hit target if he needed to beat his ass. He didn’t mind a man doing his job, but he didn’t have time for bullshit.

  James marched toward the door. The bouncer interposed himself between James and his destination, his meaty palm out.

  “Whoa there, freakface,” the bouncer commanded with a frown. “Do we look like the kind of place that has fucking valet parking for your piece-of-shit truck?” He snorted and pointed at the truck. “And this isn’t some club for cowboys or whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be with that ugly-ass duster. So why don’t you yippee-kai-fucking-away across town?”

  James looked down at his gray coat. It did resemble a duster, but that was a thin fashion line to hang a cowboy insult on.

  Maybe I should be wearing dusters. Need more pockets, though.

  “I’m not a fucking cowboy, asshole,” James rumbled. “And respect my fucking truck. It’s a classic.”

  “You are whatever the fuck I say you are, cowboy, and I don’t give a shit about your ancient piece-of-shit truck.”

  James let out a low growl, but he let the insult pass. He was there for the bounty, not some random bouncer.

  The bouncer looked James up and down. “Wait, do I know you? I think I’ve seen you somewhere before. Did I kick your ass out of here before? Don’t think because you’ve got a few tats that I’m intimidated by your ass. I kicked some Russian Mafia guys out of here just the other night, and I’ve gone up against Kilomea and won.”

  So have I, and a lot worse.

  James glared at the man. “There’s a level-four bounty in your club right now by the name of Gavin Vanders. I’m gonna go in there, beat him down, and drag his ass out. You can help me get the people out of the club so I can go beat his ass down without anyone else getting hurt, or you can fucking piss me off to make a point while some murderous piece of shit dances inside with his fucking friends.”

  “I don’t think…” The bouncer winced and backed up. “Oh, shit, now I recognize you. You’re James Brownstone.”

  “Yeah.” James grunted. “Surprise, asshole.”

  The man put his hands in front of him. “We don’t need trouble, Brownstone. If you know he’s in here, can’t you just wait until he comes out and nail him then?”

  James pointed at the door. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get everyone out of there, and because Vanders is an arrogant sonofabitch, he won’t run. I don’t want to wait around until his ass comes out. You’re going to go in there, tell the DJ to cut the music and then tell Vanders that James Brownstone is coming for him. Do we have an understanding?”

  The bouncer swallowed before offering a shallow nod and rushing inside the club.

  James reached under his shirt and pulled the metal separator off his amulet. His face twitched as the all-too-familiar hot pain of Whispy sinking into his chest and burrowing tendrils through it followed.

  Several people snapped pictures, but all they’d get for their efforts was a grimacing James because of his shirt. Enough people had seen the amulet to know he had a special artifact, but most still had no clue what it was or how it worked.

  Initiation, Whispy sent.

  Time for a little training, James responded.

  8

  James waited with a frown as people streamed out of the club, most in a hurry but none looking scared. Some of the departing people rushed by with their cameras up to snap pictures of him as they fled. One woman flashed him.

  Seriously? There’s a fucking bounty in there, and you’re all acting like this is some movie premiere.

  “Kick his fucking ass, Brownstone!” shouted one man in a shirt that had more colors than should be legal. His words were slightly slurred, and he swayed as he walked.

  Another man jogged by with his phone up. “Do that shit where you kick them through a wall. Fuck those bitches for thinking they could come into Brownstone Country, bro! Boo-yah, motherfuckers!”

  Don’t know if I should like this shit or be annoyed by it.

  A few other men and the occasional woman offered their less-than-helpful advice and suggestions as they continued streaming out of the club. Their continued movement away from the club suggested they might be convinced of his eventual victory, but they also didn’t want to be present when he delivered the pain.

  Good. That means they’re not total fucking morons, so I can go all out if I need to without any trouble. No hostages or shit like that mind-control asshole. It’ll be a nice, clean fucking fight.

  A couple of minutes passed before the flood of people turned into a mere trickle, and finally, the bouncer came out, sweat covering his pale face.

  “Just so you know, man, I called the cops,” the bouncer explained as he headed into the parking lot. “I told them you were here and what you were doing, so you can just chill and wait for them. I’m sure you’ll get your money just for being here.”

  James shrugged. He wasn’t really there for the money. It was just spice.

  “They aren’t going to show up anytime soon then. It’d be a waste of resources to scramble AET for a level four when I’m on scene. Everyone out? I didn’t hear any fire alarms. No one took the emergency exits?”

  “I told everyone to go out the front.” The bouncer frowned. “I didn’t want someone getting stuck behind the building in case you blow it up.”

  “If I damage the place, I’ll pay for it.” James shrugged. “And I don’t blow up buildings all that often, and not for level fours.”

  The bouncer’s face scrunched in confusion and fear. He shook his head. “Why did I take the extra shift? Sometimes life gets too fucking complicated, even by the standards of LA.” He sighed and jogged into the parking lot.

  “Yeah,” James mumbled. “I feel that. Sorry.”

  Moderate potential adaptation, Whispy reported. Engage and kill targets for maximum adaptation.

  No killing, James thought back. The bounty on this asshole isn’t dead or alive. Probably the same for his friends.

  Engage and kill targets for maximum adaptation, Whispy insisted, a hint of annoyance coming through the mental link.

  Of all the things James had managed to teach the symbiont in the last couple of years, the value of money wasn’t one of them. It made him wonder how things worked on the Vax homeworld.

  Oh, wait. I don’t know if there are any bounties on his entourage. Fuck them. We’ll kill them if they get in the way. If they’re hanging out with an asshole who’ll kill waitresses and cooks at restaurants, they’re pieces of shit.

  Kill the enemy, kill the enemy, kill the enemy.

  Yeah, just not the one.

  James pulled out his .45
and marched into the club. The thumping beat from before had long since died and the main lights had been turned on, revealing a room in need of a good sweeping and scrubbing. There were a surprising number of shirts and shoes strewn about, along with bottles and cups.

  Everyone looked calm, but they just dropped their shit and left.

  A man in a black t-shirt and jeans that must have been purchased from the Tight-ass Jeans Company stood in the center of the dance floor with an obsidian-tipped wand in his hand. Half a dozen other men surrounded him, all holding thin glowing knives. Everyone had murder in their eyes.

  Excitement radiated from Whispy.

  James didn’t raise his gun. “Before we get started, I just want to be sure. You Gavin Vanders? If you’re not Gavin Vanders, I don’t give a fuck. This is about bounty shit, and I’m not here to start anything with random assholes.”

  The wizard tapped his wand on his shoulder. “Yes, I am Gavin Vanders.” He sighed. “I was expecting this to happen. Fuck. People warned me, but I didn’t think it’d happen to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on, Brownstone. Everyone says that if you’re even remotely big shit, you shouldn’t go to LA because the Granite Ghost will come after you.” Gavin tapped his forehead with his wand. “That was what everyone told me when I said I was heading to LA, and I blew them off.”

  James grunted. “It’s true, but only if you have a bounty. And you do, Vanders—level four, armed robbery and murder, among other things.”

  Gavin smiled brightly. “Yeah, I do have a bounty, but I’m still glad I came here.”

  “You are? Why the fuck is that?”

  Gavin flourished his wand and bowed. “Big fan. I’ve got to say, you do look pretty fucking tough in person, Brownstone. It would have been disappointing if I came here and you looked shorter, or the voice was fake.”

  James narrowed his eyes. “You’re a big fan of a bounty hunter? How the fuck does that make any sense?”

  Gavin shrugged. “You’re a tough asshole. I can get behind that. It’s not like I have any special loyalty to the underworld. So, yeah, big fan.”

  “Huh. I was half-expecting you to give me a big speech about how I’m nothing and you’re going to beat my ass down and shit. That’s what most of you assholes say.”

  Gavin snickered. “Nah, come on. Sure, a man can inflate his reputation a little, but not too much. Everyone saw what you did at that amusement park fight. Anyone taking you on and thinking you can’t kick a lot of ass is a special kind of stupid.”

  James holstered his weapon, the motion causing the men with knives to raise their weapons. There was a slight shimmer around them as they did. He reached into his pocket and felt for a small magic coin Shay had given him. He might get to test Shay’s jumpstart method in an actual fight.

  Kill the enemy, Whispy insisted.

  If necessary. And the way this guy is talking, I’m guessing this gonna end with some ass-kicking.

  “If you understand I’m not to be fucked with, why don’t you make this shit easy and surrender?” James gestured to the man’s lackeys. “I don’t even know who these fuckers are, let alone if they have bounties, so this just has to be you going in. They can walk.”

  Gavin sighed. “That’s the thing, Brownstone—I don’t think prison would agree with me. Too hard to schedule a good lay, you know what I mean? And I don’t think I’d like the food.”

  His men all laughed.

  That shit was weak.

  “You had your chance to run, but you’re still here,” James rumbled. “If you know you can’t win, then what you are hoping for? That I’ll let you go? I don’t let bounties go because they say they’re fans. I don’t care about what tragic fucking backstory you have, either, about how you needed to rob all those places for your sister’s surgery or whatever.”

  Gavin shook his wand in front of his face. “No, no. It’s not that I can’t win. It’s just that I’m not stupid enough to think you aren’t tough. And tragic backstory?” He snorted. “I actually inherited a hundred million dollars when I was eighteen. I don’t commit crimes because I need the money. I commit crimes because it’s fun, and it beats being bored.” He shrugged. “What’s the point of being a rich wizard if I can’t rob the occasional place because I feel like it?”

  James grunted. “Aren’t you just the perfect example of a pile of shit?”

  Kill the enemy, Whispy demanded again.

  Strongly considering it.

  “Probably,” Gavin responded, “but I’m a pile of shit willing to offer you twice my bounty to let me walk. You’re a bounty hunter, not a cop. Come on, Brownstone, you might be rich from all your bounties, but you’re still all about money. You don’t have a sworn duty to take me down.” He shrugged. “And, shit, if you track my ass down again, I’m willing to offer you the same deal. I’ve got plenty of money.”

  “I don’t get it.” James furrowed his brow. “You knew I might come, and you were still sitting here partying?”

  “Sure, because I figured I’d just offer this deal.” Gavin frowned. “I didn’t think you would track my ass down so quickly, but that proves you got something going on upstairs, too.” He tapped the tip of his wand in his palm. “So, what do you say, Brownstone? Want to make the easiest money you’ve ever earned, or are we going to have a pointless fight where someone might get hurt?”

  James cracked his knuckles. “Last chance. Surrender, or this is gonna end with you hurt. I also can’t guarantee your little bitch posse won’t end up dead.”

  Gavin pointed his wand at James, some of his earlier easy manner sliding off his face. “Just because you’re tough doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt, Brownstone. I’ve got a few tricks I don’t think you’ve seen before.”

  Engage enemy for maximum adaptation, Whispy demanded.

  James pulled his gun out again. He was surprised the bounty and his men hadn’t attacked him immediately. He pointed the gun at Gavin’s leg. “You got more tricks than a three-headed dragon?”

  “Huh?” Gavin blinked. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Just saying I’ve seen a lot of shit.” James fired.

  A shield flashed around Gavin and the bullet fell to the ground, not crushed or showing any sign of impact.

  So, it doesn’t deflect. At least that’ll cut down on collateral damage.

  Kill the enemy, Whispy chanted.

  James whipped his gun to the side and fired at one of the knife-wielders. The bullet also ended up on the ground. He emptied his magazine between the rest of the men and the wizard before holstering his gun.

  Gavin looked pained. “That wasn’t impressive. Come on, Brownstone. We both know you’ve got more than that. That shit right there was insulting. Fuck, this is embarrassing for both of us.”

  “Hey, why use the top-grade shit if you don’t need it?” James shrugged.

  The men all laughed.

  James didn’t. “This is the part where people start dying.” He pulled off his coat and tossed it to the side, then removed his knife sheath and holster. No reason to lose a perfectly good holster when he activated advanced mode. “And you’re not gonna die, Gavin, but I am gonna fuck you up.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the magic coin.

  “We’ll see about that.” Gavin pointed his wand and shouted an incantation, and a ray of pure darkness shot from his wand. It shot forward, obscuring the area around it as if eating the light.

  James hissed as pain blasted from his shoulder and suffused the rest of his body.

  Yesssss, Whispy sent. New adaptation in progress. Heavy regeneration in progress.

  James looked down at his throbbing shoulder, wondering why it hurt so badly. There was a huge hole through it.

  Huh. That explains it.

  “Damn!” Gavin shouted slapping his leg. “I didn’t think it’d work so well. Fuck. You can see clean through him.” He laughed. “See that shit?”

  The men all laughed and point
ed.

  Despite the injury, James wasn’t actually that angry, and the wound hurt less than many similar injuries he’d suffered before, perhaps an artifact of the magic used. Whispy’s joy over the new damage source further dampened any irritation.

  It was the perfect time for a test.

  James slipped the coin under his shirt and against the amulet, his teeth gritted. It might not be the worst pain ever, but it was still pain. “That shit hurt, Vanders.”

  Gavin waved his wand. “Offer’s off the table, Brownstone. I’ll let you leave, but I’m not paying you a dime. The fact that you’re not wetting your pants and screaming in pain proves that you live up to the hype, so I still have mad respect for you.”

  Do it, Whispy.

  Utilizing alternate power source. Advanced transformation in progress.

  The bioarmor spread from the amulet, covering the wound in his shoulder, and his blade appeared. James took a deep breath and pointed the weapon at Gavin.

  “Damn, there it is.” The wizard frowned. “Don’t do this, Brownstone. I’ve still got respect for you. It might help my rep to kill you, but I really don’t want to, especially after seeing you take that null ray like it happens to you every day. It’d be a fucking waste of a kick-ass man.”

  “Now you’ve got my attention,” the bounty hunter rumbled. “You should have put that shit through my head, but to be honest, not sure even that would have finished me off. I don’t think you understand who you’re fucking fighting, asshole.”

  “Too bad.” Gavin shook his head. “What a fucking waste.” He fired another null ray.

  The attack struck James square in the chest, digging through the armor but not penetrating much into his chest. The attack left a mild surface burn, but the pain was nothing compared to James’ shoulder.

  “What the fuck?” the wizard yelled.

  Tendrils of the armor threaded to seal the new hole, and the pain in James’ shoulder started to ebb.

  Regeneration still in progress, Whispy reported. Primary adaptation achieved. Kill the enemy.