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“What’s the plan, boss?” 38 muttered as they coasted the rest of the way to land.
“They give us what we want, or we return with a small army and take it,” Bullets said.
“So, non-lethal confrontation unless absolutely necessary, and if necessary, aim to shoot and shoot to maim?”
“Aces,” Bullets said.
“And Spades,” 38 muttered eagerly. “What’s our spread? Line up Shotgun style or fan out like Buckshot?”
“Down the barrel — full lead, no shadows. Marching in loud and clear, like a twelve-gauge chorus. Introduce these Vikings to theMud-Kings.”
38 gave the order and the fifteen men behind him gave a verbal“Click,”affirmative.
Bullets eyed the GPS on his wrist. “Coordinates locked.” He looked around. “30.9675° N, 91.8227° W. Right around where the bayou bends like a snake.”
Five minutes later, they made it to some kind of perimeter fence. Walking another minute along it brought them to a large entry where several Tarzan looking men with Barbie hair stood watch. Quite poorly.
At seeing Bullets, they both drew short swords.
“We come in peace,” he said, with hands up. “I need to speak to your Chief.”
“Who are you?” the bigger one demanded, blue eyes sharp.
“Bullets. One of The Twelve of The Bayou Bishops. Here on official business.”
Bullets made a noise with his teeth, bringing his small army to flank his three and nine so they understood the nature of his business.
“Get the Jarl,” he said, adding something in another language, not taking his eyes off Bullets and the other young man ran off.
“Much obliged,” Bullets muttered, barely tipping his hat while holding his gaze.
Five minutes time, a giant of a man arrived, eyeing him and his posse real good before asking, “What can I help yougentlemenwith?”
His Nordic tongue put a heck of a kink on the English words as Bullets let him know, “One of The Twelve found one of your women in the woods with injuries. She said herhusbandgave them to her which is a violation of Bayou Bishop Ordinance 35--Marital Malevolence—defined as crimes committed by creatures masquerading as a man in an unforgivable act of domestic tyranny. Enacted penalties are immediate protective custody for the victim and depending on the severity and circumstances of the offense, the offender is subject to no less than five years imprisonment, with the possibility of life for the most egregious violations. I’m here for the Wife and the Wife-Beater to ensure the laws in these swamps are upheld.”
“We don’t belong to your clan or your laws,” the man informed, his words low with warning.
“Clan or no clan, if you live in these swamps, you’re subject to its laws.”
He again regarded his men before eyeing him. “We are a people of our own, with customs and laws born from our heritage. We've never meddled in the ways of others, nor will we bow to laws not woven by our own hands.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Bullets said. “Any clan that tolerates this kind of behavior answers to the law, whether they be our laws or the universal laws governing the heavens. And if I leave here empty handed, I’ll be required to return with a force you can’t deny. You have people to protect, and I suggest you do that by giving me over the Wife and the Wife-Beater. If you want a say in the matter, you’ll need to appear at the Weigh Station where his sins will be weighed and judged.”
Bullets held his hostile stare, waiting. Without moving his gaze, the giant spoke in that other language and both men hurried off.
“I will protect my clan,” the man said. “And you will surely see me at this Weigh Station.”
“Looking forward to it,” Bullets muttered, leaning to spit the acid these bent barrels put on his tongue.
For five whole minutes, Chief Viking Stares stood with his arms crossed, waiting while his men fulfilled whatever directive he’d given.
“Marsh-n-miracles,” Bullets finally muttered when they arrived with a man and a woman in tow.
The Chief spoke to the nappy headed dude in their tongue who looked at Bullets then the woman, saying something that made her flinch.
Bullets held his tongue since he was seconds from teaching him some high caliber lessons on respect.
“38,” Bullets said. “Gag and bind the Wife-Beater. Ma’am,” he called, holding out his hand toward the woman.
