The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  The other men nodded, being in similar situations.

  Maria sighed. One wounded man would destroy morale. “We’ve already taken out the two portals in this area. There can’t be many more of the monsters left around here.”

  A gunshot rang out in the distance. It didn’t sound like the rifles or 9mm pistols used by most of the Brownstone Agency, nor James’ .45. If she had to guess, she’d say it was a .38.

  Maria gestured with her arm. “Maintain the formation and let’s go to where the action is. Sounds like we’re not the only party in town.

  Her heart pounded as they ran through a faux goblin village. Shredded goblin robots lay all over, along with several dead monsters including a few four-armed Zain, along with rippers. Fantasy had met reality, but she hadn’t seen any human or Oriceran bodies.

  Maria wrinkled her nose at the dead Zain. “Thought we’d seen the last of those four-armed bastards in Wyoming.”

  Another gunshot rang out.

  “Why is another team in Fantasyville?” Carl puffed beside her. “They already finish up in Robotown?”

  Maria shook her head. “Listen to the shots. I don’t think they are with the agency. Whoever they are, we’ve got to help them.”

  The edge of goblin village gave way to the Tree City of the Forest Elves, a large sign in front informing all visitors that “This fun zone is based purely on fictional depictions of elves, and no resemblance to living elves, whether from Earth or Oriceran, is intended” followed by another sign reading “California Proposition 65 Warning: Detectable amounts of chemicals known to cause cancer, birth defects, or other reproductive harm are found in and around this exhibit.”

  Maria snickered. The whole park was littered with signs like that. Then again, so were large chunks of California, as if they thought everyone was going to drop dead from cancer any second if they sipped coffee or visited an amusement park.

  Everyone’s always worried about the tiny risks and not the big ones like crime, car accidents, or weird-ass monsters trying to eat your face.

  Maria led her team around the trunk of a fake treehouse and spotted several dead rippers around the base of a tall living tree with an observing platform about twenty feet up. Two men in uniform, security guards from what she could tell, stood at the top, pistols in hand, blood caked on their faces.

  More guys with balls. Good for them.

  Two Zain clawed furiously at the trunk of the tree, ripping out bark and wood, a pile forming around them. The men had no angle on the monsters from the platform.

  “Take the bastards out,” Maria shouted, aiming her rifle.

  The four men and the woman fired almost simultaneously, the bullets ripping into the two Zain. The creatures spun and charged the V-formation, taking two more volleys before stumbling to the ground, dead.

  Maria stepped forward and swept the area with her rifle. The Council monsters might not be too bright, but they’d already run into a wizard. She glanced down at her darkened deflector. If they hadn’t been wearing their deflectors, they’d probably be dead.

  “Carl and Deshawn, watch our backs,” she ordered. She jogged over to the tree. “What the hell are you still doing here? Didn’t you hear you were supposed to evacuate?”

  One of the guards shrugged. “We thought we could maybe slow some of the monsters down so the visitors would have a better chance of getting away. Are any more of them coming?”

  Maria shook her head. “We’ve taken out the feeder portals in this area. Just head back to the main plaza directly from here, and you’ll be fine.” She grinned up at them. “If we don’t all die during this, I know an agency that can use some brave men and probably pays better than this place.” She turned back to the bounty hunters. “We should go and reinforce Max’s team in Robotown. Let’s get back into formation and sweep that way. If they’re fine, we can continue sweeping to the next zone until we’ve cleared this entire damned park.”

  “Maria, look out!” Carl shouted.

  She spun just in time to see a wizard shimmer into existence, his wand crackling with energy and pointed right at her. Her pulse sped up, and she raised her rifle. A full blast at this range might take her out, especially with her already-weakened deflector.

  A gunshot rang out and the wizard collapsed to the ground with a hole in his head, his wand falling and the energy dissipating harmlessly.

  Maria let out a sigh of relief and turned to give Carl a grin. “Thanks. You saved my ass there.”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t take the shot. You were in the way. I couldn’t risk it.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Then who?”

  “Me,” called a familiar voice from her side.

  Maria turned.

  Shay stood there, her 9mm in hand and a huge grin on her face. “Looks like this time I had your back, Maria.”

  22

  “Can’t these bastards just give up already?” James rumbled.

  He grunted as his grenade finished off the energy stream to the second portal in Animal Town, then pulled out his gun and tried to decide his next move. He was closer to Princess Island, so it made more sense to head that way. The gunfire from across the park had grown sparser, so either his teams were winning and the incident was almost over, or he’d have to figure out another way to close the portals without grenades.

  “The great James Brownstone,” rasped a voice from behind.

  James spun and raised his gun. A swirling cloud of red mist floated several yards behind him, wispy tendrils flowing from its sides. It had two glowing red eyes atop a bulge that he supposed was its head. He recognized the bastard from footage Senator Johnston had supplied him.

  “So you’re not dead, He Who Hunts,” James rumbled. “I’m not lying when I say I’m surprised. Given that you haven’t been around, I figured you had to be dead and not just hiding.”

  Kill stronger enemy, the amulet whispered in his mind. Adapt. Grow stronger. Achieve primary directive.

  The creature let out a low chuckle. “Did you think your feeble soldier friends could kill me?” He floated up a few feet, his tendrils twitching. “I am beyond perishing at the hands of such pathetic creatures.”

  James snorted. “Why? Seems like we’re killing all your little Council bitches easily enough, not to mention your friends.”

  He Who Hunts floated even higher. “The others were disposable. The minions are disposable. You’re proud of all my minions you’ve slain?”

  James gave a slight shrug. “Yeah. I was expecting a tougher fight, but you might as well have brought some paper dolls the way I’ve been cutting through them.”

  Another rasping chuckle followed. “Perfect. Where do you think I got most of these creatures, James Brownstone?”

  James shrugged. “I don’t know. Some fucking evil version of Costco on Oriceran?”

  He Who Hunts floated back closer to the ground. “No. All people I’ve taken from this sad little planet. I’ve taken pathetic humans and twisted them, warped them, ripped out their souls to make them nothing more than my puppets, to throw them against you and your minions.”

  James’ face twitched and he gritted his teeth, heart pounding. “What the fuck?”

  “Yes, you should feel the rage. The anger. If it makes you feel any better, there was nothing that could have been done to save them. Once I reshaped them, they would never again be anything but my servants. They would have died in days if you hadn’t slain them. I only needed them here to sow terror.”

  Yes, the amulet sent. Anger. Hatred. Power increasing.

  This shit ends today, no matter what.

  James opened fire, pulling the trigger until his gun clicked empty. No ichor spilled from He Who Hunts. Each bullet melted into vapor on contact, and unlike his encounter with the wizards outside the barbeque place, the Council member wasn’t wounded by the secondary vapor.

  “Pathetic,” He Who Hunts rasped. “Disappointing. It was difficult, don’t you understand? I was forced to be cautious as I har
vested your kind to turn into my minions, and this is all you can do? Fling metal at me? I was expecting something far more impressive. I’ve seen it—your true second skin. Your true power. Was it all just temporary? A bargain to gain the power you needed to defeat the Council?”

  “Fuck you.” James ground his teeth together. Senator Johnston had told him soldiers had been able to wound He Who Hunts, but without anti-magic bullets, maybe he had no chance. There was no way he could let the bastard go after everything he had done. Not only that, he still owed him for his men damaging the barbeque restaurant.

  Give me advanced mode, James demanded.

  Insufficient power for advanced mode.

  James holstered his pistol. “If you’re so fucking tough, take me out. Because you’re dying today, you piece of shit. I don’t care what you are. I know you can bleed. I know you can die, because you’ve been hiding like a little fucking cockroach this entire time while you sent wizards or those twisted people after me.” He sneered. “You’re nothing, are you?”

  He Who Hunts flicked up a tendril and a red energy bolt slammed into James’ already-bare chest, a wave of heat passing over him. He hissed in pain and stumbled back a few feet.

  After taking a deep breath, he looked down. Even though the wound throbbed, he had only a light burn.

  Additional adaptation achieved, Whispy Doom crowed, his joy infectious. Kill enemy. Grow stronger.

  James’ hand dropped to his knife, but he didn’t pull it out. He doubted he could stab a flying mist cloud to death, not without one of Shay’s magical blades at least. No reason to melt a perfectly good knife.

  James snorted. “That all you got? You’re supposed to be the big bad last member of the Council, and you can’t kill me?” He slapped his chest. “Come on, asshole. Prove to me how scary you are.”

  He Who Hunts’ tendrils twitched a few times. “Interesting. I’d wondered if this was all a waste, but you’re not dead. Still, you’re not what you should be, either. You remain a disappointment. I might not be able to kill you, but you can do little to harm me with your sad toys.”

  “Fuck you. The longer you sit here, the sooner my guys come, and you’re dead then. Or you gonna run and hide?” James grinned at him. “I owe you for sending those guys who blew up Phillips-Bar-B-Que. You should have just floated back to Oriceran and learned your fucking lesson, asshole. But you’re stubborn, just like the fucking Harriken, and you’re gonna join them in Hell.”

  He Who Hunts flung another heat bolt at James. “Your arrogance is glorious, Brownstone. Myopic, but glorious.”

  The magical attack stung, but only reddened James’ skin this time. The Council member pelted him with a few other attacks, burning a hole in his pants but not doing much tissue damage. Even the pain from the light burn from the first attack already seemed to be fading. His amulet’s newly-developed enhanced healing and defenses were keeping him in the fight, but no man could win a fight only by taking hits.

  James let out a low growl. Even though he hated the monster in front of him, the kind of boiling rage he needed just wasn’t pouring out.

  Insufficient power for advanced transformation, Whispy complained. Near maximum adaptation achieved. Kill enemy.

  The amulet radiated faint disappointment.

  James cracked his knuckles. He needed to get mad. The lingering fire from realizing where the Council member had gathered his forces kept calmness away, but it wasn’t enough.

  Why the fuck can’t I get mad enough? Never thought I’d regret having such good control of my fucking emotions.

  James grunted and shook his head. “No matter what I have to do or who I have to pay, even if you escape today, I’ll find you, and I will make sure that you die. Do you fucking understand me?”

  He Who Hunts floated back a few feet. “Yes,” he rasped. “You’re the one I need. I’m impressed you were able to stop my massacre, but your efforts will accomplish nothing. The sickening order must perish. Chaos must reign. Today is just the first of many massacres I will deliver. I will reduce this city to nothing but ash, bone, and blood because you can’t stop me.”

  James snorted. “Fuck off, asshole. You’re not exactly hurting me either.”

  He Who Hunts let out a long hollow laugh. “Doesn’t it bother you, Brownstone? Serving inferiors? Insects beneath you? Tools of static corruption?”

  James narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you going on about now, you misty piece of shit?”

  “You protect these people? Why?” He Who Hunts flung a tentacle to the side. A heat bolt shot out and incinerated a nearby sign, reducing it to molten slag. “Billions of humans. Even if you killed ninety-nine percent of them, there would still be millions. Are their lives so valuable? Why do you care? They are beneath you.”

  “This isn’t Red Mist World, fucker. This is Earth.” James slammed a fist into his palm. “And we don’t take kindly to genocidal fucking maniacs regardless of what species they are.”

  The Council member floated up several feet. “If you served me, I would free you from fear, from doubt, from anything that would distract from your instincts. Revel in pure instincts. Revel in the natural order of chaos.”

  James snorted. “Spare me. I’m not looking for a new king or a new god.”

  Where the fuck is everybody else? I’m sure we can at least light this asshole up with anti-magic bullets. I hope they have some left.

  James whipped out his .45, slapped in a new magazine, and emptied it again into his opponent, but the shots still didn’t do any good. With a grunt, he holstered the weapon.

  “That’s your answer?” He Who Hunts asked. “Pointless defiance? I thought the Council members were foolish, but you’re beyond that.”

  James charged He Who Hunts and threw a punch. The creature didn’t dodge. His fist passed right through, the mist spilling out. He hissed at the heat of the contact and stumbled a few feet away, shaking out his fist. His skin was reddened, but the mist had already poured back into He Who Hunts. Another stalemate.

  He needed a better strategy. The damned Council member might portal out any second and then there was no telling when they might catch him.

  James’ blood ran cold at a sudden bark. His dog was charging into the area, the leash trailing behind him. It’d been chewed through.

  Oh, shit.

  The dog kept rushing toward He Who Hunts, barking and growling. Justice instincts.

  He Who Hunts’ tendrils lifted and a shuddering red sphere of energy grew between them. “What an insolent creature. Let’s erase it.”

  The energy screamed through the air.

  23

  No. Not again.

  James was too far away to get to the dog and take the shot. “To me, boy,” he shouted.

  The dog changed course, sprinting toward James. The last-second move let it dodge a direct hit from the energy ball. He Who Hunts’ magic exploded right behind the dog, flinging the singed and yelping animal through the air. The dog hit the ground and rolled, still breathing but whimpering.

  “You piece of shit,” James growled. “This is your great instinct? Your great fucking chaos?”

  It was nothing but pointless cruelty from a monster who’d twisted and murdered dozens, if not hundreds, of people. Maybe thousands, for all James knew. Another small piece to push him over the edge.

  “It survived,” rasped He Who Hunts. “Impressive. Caring about this creature is even more pointless. Sentiment is false order. You begin to bore me, Brownstone. Are you the same being who defeated the soul-drinkers?”

  James trembled in rage, his heart thundering and blood pounding in his ears. His hands curled into fists as he stomped toward He Who Hunts. “I…will…fucking…end…you,” he growled.

  He Who Hunts brightened. “Interesting.”

  Yessss! Anger. Hatred. Sufficient power for extended advanced transformation, Whispy reported.

  Silver-green tendrils poured from the amulet, spreading and flattening into armor that encased first h
is chest, then his arms, and legs. The armor covered his hands, and claws extended, followed by a blade out of each arm. A helmet sealed around his head, and his eyes ached for a moment before he could see again, but as before, he had wider peripheral vision.

  James let out a low growl.

  Extended advanced transformation achieved. Kill the enemy. Grow stronger. Achieve primary directive. Additional adaptation minimal from current enemy.

  Heavy footfalls sounded behind him, and with his improved peripheral vision, he spotted Shay, Maria, Trey, and the rest of the men closing on him. He stepped toward He Who Hunts, ignoring the arrivals even as their rifles came to life. Their bullets vaporized and did no damage, just like his.

  “You wanted the man who fought those monsters in Wyoming,” James shouted. “Here I fucking am, fucker.”

  He Who Hunts laughed and zoomed away and James charged after him.

  You don’t fucking get away, you bastard. If you want to leave, you better portal right now.

  The Council member tossed several more heat bolts behind him. They struck the armor, but James barely felt the hits. He Who Hunts kept ascending. After the fourth hit, he stopped attacking.

  James jumped and swung his blade but missed. The damned bastard was now straight-up flying. The creature rushed toward a nearby roller coaster, the bounty hunter stomping after him, growling and snarling.

  He Who Hunts stopped in front of the bottom track of the roller coaster near the loading zone but hovered thirty feet in the air. “You can’t win. You’re pathetic, Brownstone. You can’t protect anyone, not even a single lesser beast.” He floated up with a raspy chuckle as he headed toward the top of a nearby loop.

  Make me fly, James demanded.

  Not a viable adaptation, Whispy demanded. Implementing viable alternative.

  Pain shot through James’ legs, and he hissed. It passed a moment later, but even with the rage running through his mind, he understood what had happened.

  He bent down and jumped, flinging himself into the air. It might not have been flight, but he was rushing right toward his target, one of his blades raised high.