This day promised to be worse than the day before.

Not only was the air smoke and smog-filled, but it was raining. Nothing, hard, mind you, but enough to be an annoyance. Enough to make the day miserable. I slogged through the sludge that coated the cobbled streets on my way to work, still early enough where the streets were fairly abandoned. All that moved was the sleeping bodies of the homeless and the poor. I passed them, leaving them to the dreamsor their nightmares. The factorys smokestacks glowed a fiery red as flames belched from them, as always. I clocked in, stamping the small red card and leaving it in the slot. Then I made my way to the station, and Griseous. This time he was covered in blood, his own blood. He whimpered as the dragon handler stomped on his pinioned wings, and I rushed over, shouting, What the hell are you doing? The handler laughed as he stomped one more time, and I heard the audible crack as the wing bone snapped under the strain. The handler grabbed me and started bellowing in my face. He was a burly man, stout but strong. He was shouting at me to stop interfering with his job. Thank the gods that the machinery is so loud and he was infuriated, because he never heard the click. Or the soft scrape of leather as I slid my pistol out. With a crack! the revolver fired as I tightened my finger. The handler gasped after the sickening thud of the bullets impact, and the ting of it hitting the steel wall. He clutched a hole the size of my thumb in his chest, at his heart, and I knew there would be a fist-sized hole in his back. My revolver smoked as I pulled the hammer back again, and then waited. Thank the gods again that I was early, and the machines covered up the sound of my gun. I holstered it, then rushed over to the crying Griseous. Gris! Are you alright? I asked, kneeling down next to him. NoMy wingIts broken. Griseous cried. I looked at the wing and saw that one of the fingers had been snapped. I steeled myself, then gripped the two ends. I pushed them back together, despite the piteous screams of pain that Griseous let out, and then bound the thing. Then I grabbed a set of tongs and snapped open a chain. What are you doing? Griseous gasped, tears sliding down his cheek. Im fulfilling a promise I made, and Im getting us out of here! I roared as another chain broke. By now another handler had finished whipping the little dragoness who was at the next workstation and was coming over. I didnt give him the chance to ask what was going on. He opened his mouth, and the back of his head was blown apart. My revolver was a third empty. I finished breaking the chains and then cut the collar off, leading a limping Griseous towards the door. As a second thought, I turned and shot the chains off of the little dragoness next to us. She shook herself free and hurried over, thanking me. She supported Griseous as I moved ahead, reloading the pistol. At the doors a contingent of Knights stood. They guarded the factory, and would be a great obstacle. I was about two hundred feet out, and then pulled out my second revolver. Then I opened fire. Nine men fell forward clutching holes in their chests. The other three slumped to the ground, their heads a bloody wreck. Brains and bone and blood spattered the floor as the others turned and began charging me. I ducked behind some machinery and reloaded, pulling the hammers back. They were only fifty feet out when I popped out again and blew them apart.

This time I got two for one specials. The heavy lead bullets tore through the first wave of Knights and killed the troops behind them. The blood spray was glorious, and I felt my face stretch into a feral snarl. This was the day I had lived for. The Church had made any slayer a member of its army, the Knights of the Blessed. Of course, not even a Churchs blessing could stop a .357 round. By now I could see a familiar face. You I growled, as I recognized the slayer under the helmet. It was the same man who had told me of Carnadis fate. It was the former leader of the Slayers Guild. At one time he was known as The Slayer Denning. Judging by the color of the insignia on his chest, I gathered it would be more appropriate to call him Corporal Denning, Knight of the Church. He looked me in the eyes, nodded almost imperceptively, then turned. His strong arms whipped the polearm around, and the heavy axe head bit deep into a fellow soldiers neck. He left the weapon there and drew the axe he was famous for. By now my revolvers were spent. I holstered them and drew the sword, the sword that was black. The day Carnadi was cremated I bought the blade that I killed her with. When there was nothing but ashes, I drew a red-hot blade through them. The carbon fused to the metal, and stained it black, like my soul. Blood sprayed out of a wound as I rushed past a soldier, cutting him down. I rammed the tip of my sword down into the space between the next Knights gorget and shoulder plate. He gurgled wetly as he went down. That was the last of the Knights inside, but I knew there would be more. I took the time to reload, and turned to Denning. You know whats coming, I stated, spinning the chamber and pulling back the hammer. I understand and accept my fate. As a condemned man, may I ask that you do one thing? Denning stood a little straighter as I leveled the muzzle of my gun at his face. What mercy should I bestow upon you? I sneered, finger tightening. Go to the address on this slip. Tell the Watcher that I sent you. Theyll understand, Denning tossed me a small scrap of paper. I picked it up slowly, watching his every move. Then I heard more Knights. A lot more. A handler must have sent for help. I put away my gun and told him, This will have to wait. Break some nines free. Make sure they can fly, theyre how were getting out of here, Griseous hissed as he stepped near me, and dropped something. It was a revolver, complete with severed hand. I pried the hand off of the wooden grip and gasped. It was an old Colt Peacemaker, a Colts .44. Thank the gods I dont carry only .357 ammo. I put the gun in a pocket inside my coat, then, urging the dragons onto the nine-year-olds, we broke free of the factory. Escaping on a twenty foot dragon is not very inconspicuous. Rather, every person in the city could watch as the dragons thundered their wings and soared over the city walls into the wilderness outside of them. We landed about twenty miles out of Opalucia, in a little grove of fir. Griseous was the first off of Thunderhead, and then I followed. Denning lowered himself slowly of off Lightningbolt, keeping his axe on his belt and his hands where the suspicious dragon could see them. He sat down a little ways out of the main camp, just staring at the sky. I walked slowly over to him, and read the look in his eyes. Why did you slay dragons? I asked him, not knowing why myself.

Because it was the only thing I knew. My family has slain dragons since before the apocalypse. That was the only real thing they taught me. My younger brother would have been better suited for the job. I have this thing about killing the defenseless, and slaying the dragons definitely qualifies. Thats why I stood back, never actually taking part. Thats why I headed the Guilds finances, because it was cold, heartless money rather than a half of a bond. I saw your face that day. It broke me to the core, tooSince then, Ive known that you would hold me responsible, and have prepared myself to meet my end at your hands. Ive come to prefer it be that way, as a way to cleanse my sins He said, turning to me. Never had I thought that the man who led those who killed Carnadi would actually dread the job, or even not do it. I lowered the hammer on my gun, and slid it back into the holster. It can wait. Who is the Watcher? I cant tell you that. Youll have to meet he-youll have to meet them before I can say anything. Right now, we should go to sleep. I have no idea where were going, but its late for a traveler, Denning said as he got up. Ill take first watch. Not that I want to sleep, I said, leaning up against a tree and taking out the filthy Colt and a rag. I ignored his next comment as I set to cleaning the gun, taking the cylinder out and polishing it, the whole nine yards. It was a nice gun under all the filth, and as the night wore on, it showed. Eventually I couldnt keep my brain going straight and woke Denning up. I leaned up against Griseous and immediately fell into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.