The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  James grunted into his phone as he stood in his kitchen. “Thanks, Heather. Sounds like you’ve got a good general location. Maybe prep some drones for recon, but don’t send any into the tunnels yet. I’ll talk to you soon.” He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

  Shay watched him from the dining room chair, her arms crossed. “What’s the word?”

  “From what Heather could find, the assholes still have guys in town, and they’re probably killing innocent people in abandoned subway tunnels.” James frowned. “Fuckers. I knew I should have issued a public challenge. They’re killing people every day I don’t finish him off, and we still only have a general fucking area. Even if I get all the guys, who knows how long it’ll take to search those damned tunnels? Heather could only narrow it down so much.”

  Shay shook her head. “First of all, this shit isn’t your fault. It’s this He Who Hunts asshole and his lackeys. Second, I know how we can figure out his location very precisely.”

  James frowned. “What? Call Peyton in? What’s he gonna do that Heather hasn’t already?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. You keep forgetting that I happen to know a whole swarm of magical teenagers who know the tunnels of Los Angeles better than anyone. I guarantee that if I call Harry and feed him the information Heather gave you, we will know exactly where to go within hours.”

  “You think so?”

  Shay nodded. “I damned well know so. The only question is, what’s our next move once we know?”

  James grunted. “It’s time for me to stop fucking sitting around and do what I do best. I’ll get the guys together, and we’ll march down there and fucking waste every single Council sonofabitch we run into. We’ll find that He Who Hunts asshole and slice him into so many pieces, you’ll need a microscope to find one.” He slammed his fist on the counter. “These fuckers killed Shorty, and now they have the balls to come back? You make your call. I’m gonna call Trey and tell him to bring everyone in. Once we know where to go, we’ll march there, and I’ll show them why the Harriken and the Nuevo Gulf Cartel no longer exist.” He snorted. “And I don’t even have to break any promises to Alison.”

  “What promises?” Shay arched a brow.

  “I promised not to attack any buildings filled with bad guys without backup. Preferably you.” James shrugged.

  Shay grinned. “Aww, the family that slays together stays together.” She winked. “I’ll call Harry. Time to make ‘He Who Hunts’ into ‘He Who Cries Like a Little Bitch.’”

  10

  The heavy thud of dozens of men in boots echoed in the darkened tunnels, their head and wrist lamps cutting through the darkness. Every Brownstone Agency bounty hunter in the city had been called for the raid. They didn’t have time to wait for reinforcements from Vegas. Trey marched at the front of the bounty hunter formation but behind Shay and James.

  This was war, and again the men resembled soldiers more than bounty hunters in their helmets, dark tactical gear, and anti-magic deflectors. Style wasn’t necessary when they were on a mission of extermination.

  Many of them were grim-faced, undoubtedly thinking of their fallen friend. Most of them hadn’t been able to participate in any of James’ follow-up raids. It was their time to give a little payback.

  They’d finish off some sadistic bastards and pick up a paycheck from the government. It was about to be a very good day.

  Shay had been right. Harry and his friends had given her the location within an hour. One of them almost got zapped by a wizard and had barely managed to escape.

  James wasn’t worried about the Council forces fleeing. Harry and his friends were watching the outer perimeter, and they hadn’t seen anything except when they’d gotten too close.

  Whispy Doom radiated excitement in James’ mind, offering only the occasional murmur about killing the enemy. The damned thing wouldn’t shut up when he was sitting around but could be as a quiet as an altar boy in church if it knew James was on the way to destroy people.

  The bounty hunters murmured amongst themselves.

  Shay walked alongside James. “These Council guys are kind of fucking morons.”

  James grunted. “Why do you say that?”

  “It was one thing when we were hitting them at their base or one of their safehouses, but they’ve come onto your turf.” She shrugged. “And they only have one true Council member left.”

  “The Harriken didn’t know when to stop either.” James frowned. “The only problem is, I can’t blow up all those tunnels like I did their headquarters.”

  Shay laughed. “You don’t always have to blow everything up.”

  He shrugged. “When I did it to the Harriken, they stopped coming back. Didn’t do it to the Council, and I still have to deal with them.”

  “A good point. Next time we bring a bomb.” Shay patted the hilt of her sword. “Would you have gotten involved if they’d never kidnapped me?”

  James furrowed his brow and thought that over for a moment. “Don’t know. Lot of good money in level-six bounties.”

  “Not that you need it.” She grinned.

  “I have a feeling the fuckers would have pissed me off sooner or later.” James shrugged and turned his head to call to his men, “Two more rights and we should run right into them. Remember, this is still an official dead-or-alive organizational bounty. If they don’t immediately surrender, fucking waste them.”

  The gathered men nodded.

  Trey turned to the others. “Go ahead and load your anti-magic bullets. We know these bitches are mostly gonna be wizards.” He pulled a magazine out of his tactical vest and slapped it into his rifle. “And remember—this is for Shorty.”

  “For Shorty!” the men shouted in unison.

  Shay sighed and shook her head. “So much for the element of surprise.”

  James grunted. “Fuck surprise. I want those bitches to know we’re coming.”

  Insufficient power for advanced transformation, his amulet whispered.

  We don’t need that shit yet.

  Tactical potential not reached. Consider implications of allied forces.

  James glanced down at his covered chest. That wasn’t a line Whispy Doom had used before. Was the amulet trying to convince him a different way?

  It didn’t matter. He didn’t know what the situation was supposed to be, but for now, he was the one who called the shots, and Whispy Doom could fucking deal.

  “Let’s do this shit,” James shouted and broke into a sprint.

  The men rushed after him, their rifles ready. When they hit the first intersection, light shone from down the tunnel.

  Makes sense. Not like wizards can see in the dark automatically.

  James picked up the pace. At this point, he doubted the Council could throw anything at him his amulet hadn’t already encountered. He turned at the next intersection.

  A line of wizards flanked by strange monsters waited, their wands up. A man with rock skin stood to the side. At least nine other men looked identical except for different-colored glowing eyes. A giant spider with the head of a man crouched in the back. A human torso was connected to four pointed legs and a long serpentine tail. A few other nightmarish creatures stood ready.

  What the fuck is all this?

  New enemies, Whispy Doom sent. Kill enemies. Adapt. Grow stronger.

  James didn’t have more than a few seconds to ponder the unholy horrors standing in front of him before the wizards opened fire, a volley of elemental forces exploding around him. He gritted his teeth and stumbled back, the combined blast stinging more than he’d expected.

  Near maximum adaptation potential presented. Kill enemies. Find new, stronger enemies. Adapt.

  Shay and the men behind him held their breaths, waiting for the smoke and dust to clear. Even the Council forces watched in breathless silence. Everyone seemed to realize the true threat in the area.

  James smirked and wiped a small trickle of blood off his face. He had a few minor cuts and r
eddened skin. His clothes were shredded, his shirt almost gone, but he didn’t care anymore if anyone saw the amulet. Even if they didn’t need to know he was an alien, he had no problem with them knowing he had a special artifact he used during jobs. Like most people, they would just assume it was magical.

  He advanced and shrugged. “You get one fucking chance. Drop to your knees right now, or we end you fuckers.” He looked around with a frown. “And where the fuck is He Who Hunts?”

  The wizards responded with another blinding barrage. Stone, dirt, concrete, and metal blasted in the air, raining down in the chamber.

  James opened fire at the closest wizard, his anti-magic bullets cutting through the man’s second-rate shield. The guy jerked and spun, doing a final dance of death.

  The Brownstone men all opened fire now, as did Shay. Half of the wizards and glowing-eyed clones lay on the ground dead or dying before the Council troops realized their mistake in concentrating on James and believing their defenses would protect them from small-arms fire.

  The remaining wizards hurriedly backed up while the mutants and monsters advanced. The anti-magic bullets bounced off the rock-skinned man with a spark, and he grinned and charged.

  James grunted and holstered his pistol as he rushed the man. They slammed into each other, the loud thud booming like a thunderclap in the tunnel. The rock man’s eyes widened, and he staggered back from the force of the blow. The bounty hunter grunted, barely feeling the impact.

  He cracked his knuckles. “You can ask my girlfriend how hard a head I have, asshole.” He threw another punch and slammed a fist into the rock man, whose head snapped back.

  James shook out his hand. The man didn’t just look like a rock, he felt like one. If he hadn’t been using Whispy Doom, he might have broken his hand.

  The two exchanged blows, but it was obvious that despite the rock man’s magical armor, he lacked the bounty hunter’s natural strength. Punch after punch sent the mutant stumbling back, cracks appearing in his face and chest and pieces of rock flying off him.

  Kill enemy and find stronger enemy, Whispy Doom demanded. Current enemy defensive abilities insufficient to promote additional adaptation.

  The loud echoes of gunfire continued as the Brownstone army downed wizards and monsters. A fireball exploded near the line, and several men yelled out in pain. A blue ray blasted from one wizard’s wand, nailing Max in the shoulder. The bounty hunter fell to the ground, grimacing in pain, his anti-magic deflector dark but still intact.

  Shay had already pulled her sword and now charged toward the mutant with the serpent tail. Her enemy snapped his tail at her and she leapt into the air, avoiding the blow. She landed in an expert roll and was on her feet again, all her momentum preserved. With a quick slash, she beheaded her enemy and didn’t even stop to watch his head roll away as she charged the spider mutant.

  James threw another series of vicious punches into the rock man’s face, and his foe stumbled, dazed. The bounty hunter took his opportunity to grab the man’s neck and yanked him to the ground. The mutant groaned, but James didn’t let up as he slammed his face into the hard concrete.

  “Rock and a hard place, asshole.”

  Insufficient energy for advanced transformation, Whispy Doom complained.

  James ignored his needy symbiotic partner and the roar of gunfire and exploding magic around him as he continued to slam the rock man’s head into the concrete. After his sixth hit, the entire head cracked and split in two. No blood came out, and the inside was nothing except rock and dust.

  How the fuck does that even work? Damned magic.

  He stood and dusted his hands off just in time to see Shay slice through a leg of the spider mutant. It took him a few seconds to realize she’d already cut several off. With a grin, she stabbed at the monster’s body as it thrashed until it rolled onto its back and stopped moving.

  Find new enemies. Kill. Adapt to become stronger.

  James swept his head around, looking for more ass to kick. Dead wizards, clones, mutants, and monsters littered the floor. A few of his men lay against the wall, bloodstains on their armor, but they all were well enough to down healing potions.

  He grunted and frowned. “Where’s He Who Hunts?”

  Trey jogged over from the corner. He didn’t look wounded, but there was a huge claw mark scoring his armor. “Didn’t see any motherfucker who looked like that dude. I don’t think he was here, big man.”

  “Maybe he never was.” James shrugged. “Just a bunch of dead-enders. The military wounded that fucker before he ran anyway. He probably bled out, and these assholes just came to avenge him. Probably his dying wish or some shit.”

  “What about what Tyler said?”

  James shook his head. “He’s not always right, and he said this was their base of operations. If the Council’s guy is such a badass and still alive, why would he let me keep fucking his guys up? Nah. He’s fucking dead already. I’d bet you money.”

  He stared down at one of the dead mutants or whatever the hell they were. No. Everything was over. This had to be the big plan, to ambush him with a bunch of wizards and monsters.

  Shay wandered toward the pair after cleaning her sword on the shirt of a dead wizard. “They weren’t surprised to see us, but I don’t think they thought we’d show up with everyone.”

  Trey snorted. “Now these fuckers are dead.” He pounded his chest. “For you, Shorty.”

  The other men cheered. “For Shorty!”

  Max limped over, a healing potion in hand. His leg had been badly burned. He downed the potion and grinned. “Good thing we got all these fucking healing potions.”

  “Yeah,” Lachlan called. “Good thing the big man can buy ‘em in bulk at a discount because of Trey the Gigolo.”

  Shay laughed. “Trey the Gigolo?”

  James grunted. He knew Trey had been seeing Zoe, and even though he couldn’t understand why a man would take that kind of risk, the last thing he was going to do is tell any man who he should sleep with.

  Trey frowned. “Y’all shut the fuck up. Y’all just jealous because you ain’t have a girlfriend as fine as mine.”

  The men all laughed. James cracked a smile too, even if he disagreed. Zoe was nice, but she was no Shay.

  Inefficient use of time, Whispy Doom all but shouted in James’ mind. Minimal adaptation gained from engaging enemies.

  It’s my fucking time to waste. I don’t fight people just to get stronger.

  Inefficient.

  I’ve been called worse, asshole.

  Asshole is incorrect designation.

  James surveyed the carnage and nodded, satisfied. Tyler, Heather, and Harry’s information had pointed him there. If there were some other secret part of LA where He Who Hunts was still around, they would have found it. The bastard had to be dead.

  We’ve won. This shit is finally over.

  He Who Hunts floated back and forth. The scrying windows allowed him a perfect view of the battle, but his excitement had quickly turned to disappointment.

  The loss of his forces was irrelevant. The wizards, transformed or otherwise, were nothing but disposable tools. They were there only to serve their purpose. The changed ones wouldn’t last long anyway. The real problem came with what hadn’t happened.

  Brownstone had never transformed. It was obvious from the first attack that the bounty hunter hadn’t used whatever artifact strengthened him and produced his powerful suit. In the second attack, his ability to take so many direct blasts proved he was using his artifact, but he hadn’t transformed. No armor, no helmet, no green rays of destruction.

  This would not do. Controlling Brownstone would require the man to be at his maximum potential, which was associated with the rage and anger He Who Hunts had tasted earlier. The red crystal would require it.

  He Who Hunts glided over to an open door leading to another room. He had to be careful. Attacking Brownstone with serious force would be the best way to pull out his true nature, but it risked brin
ging the government to reinforce the man. If he couldn’t corrupt Brownstone before the government got involved, he’d be forced to leave Earth for a while. All his time with the Council, all the corrupt threads he’d woven through Earth—everything could be wasted.

  Brownstone couldn’t be left behind. He was too useful a tool of chaos and death. He’d slaughtered hundreds of men in a mad quest to avenge a mere beast.

  Insofar as He Who Hunts could feel affection, he was starting to like James Brownstone.

  He Who Hunts floated into another room. Dozens of people lay on the ground, their hands and feet bound with glowing red magical thread.

  “Please,” a man cried. “I just want to go home.”

  More sobs and pleas came in a half-dozen languages. It’d been risky grabbing raw materials from all over the Earth. He Who Hunts could never be sure if the PDA or other such groups would be able to track him, but harvesting all of the necessary raw materials from Los Angeles wasn’t practical. For now, he had enough for the next phase in his plan.

  “You should rejoice,” he rasped, his voice hollow and cold. “You are about to be repurposed into something far more useful.”

  11

  An insistent knock came from James’ front door.

  Shay frowned. “Who the fuck is that?”

  James rose from the couch and headed toward the door. “Someone I’ve been expecting.”

  Something wasn’t sitting right with Shay about the raid a few days prior. The government had paid the bounty. They also admitted they’d not seen so much as a single red particle of He Who Hunts, but it was hard for her to believe the creature was dead, even though James seemed certain.

  Am I just looking for reasons to be paranoid, or is he looking for reasons to pretend everything’s okay?

  James opened the door to reveal a pack of tween children.

  Shay blinked. That was about the last thing she expected.

  James reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet and fish out a few large bills. He handed one to each of the kids. “Find anything?”