However
…
"So you saw a little child and thought she was here to fight a gang of thugs?"
"That is a rather poor way of putting it," the Plague Doctor remarked. "What I saw was a girl carrying a bloodied weapon, while standing over the bodies of two dead men, and that was what I based my inference off of. Although technically speaking, you are correct: I can only guess as to why you’re here."
"And this is completely normal to you?" I asked, raising a brow.
"It does seem a little odd. However, I have seen stranger sights during my time."
His answers made it quite clear he knew something was up. Which, somehow, made me more relaxed than anything; I would have been all the more leery of him if he pretended he did not suspect a thing. I finally decided to let my guard down by a little bit.
"I see," I said, nodding, "well I wouldn’t be against getting some help."
The less potential blood on my hands, the better. And he might even have had a better plan to rescue Hannah than me. Still facing the Plague Doctor, I carefully walked over to one of the bodies, and picked up the pistol from earlier.
Going to need this if I can’t use magic.
"So, what do you suggest we do?" I asked the question. "There’s probably dozens of thugs in there. Do we just sneak in and grab Hannah, or…?"
The Plague Doctor casually shrugged.
"If they did not already wake up from the sounds of you fighting, then they surely would have awoken when I arrived."
He waved his revolver in the air to indicate it. Then he lowered it with one hand as he brought his other hand up— still holding his signature cane— and slid a bullet into the chamber. With a click, he spun the barrel back into position and flourished it back into its holster.
"I don’t believe subtlety has been an option since."
"Thought so," I sighed. "Let’s just get this over with."
"Indeed," he concurred, raising his weapon and pointing it into the building.
A figure— no, several figures appeared behind the doorway; they were already armed and ready for combat. I whipped out my pistols and aimed at the first thug who was shouting and pointing at us. But before I could fire my weapon, the Plague Doctor finished his sentence.
"That we should, shouldn’t we?"
Then he fired his gun, and a blinding light flashed for a second. The yellow beam of light once again zipped straight at the thugs, accompanied by the thunderous cracking noise from the gunshot. Two thugs who were standing in front of each other fell, a gaping hole the size of a fist appeared on their chest, as the bullet continued past the both of them, burning itself through the wall in the back.
I flinched at the sound for a moment— but I collected myself soon enough and immediately ran for cover. The other thugs were also momentarily stunned by the powerful attack, but just like me, they immediately sprung to action.
"It’s that Plague Doctor!"
"Kill those bastards—"
The Plague Doctor fired another shot, silencing one of the thugs as they began firing back. He skipped to the side. Twirled out of the way from the gunfire. Raising his cane to block one shot that almost nicked his side. Then stopped at the other side of the door from me, behind cover.
He was graceful. Like a figure skater in the rink. Not every one of the thugs had a gun— in fact, there were just over a dozen of them currently in the room, and less than half had a long-ranged weapon. But in spite of that, I was entranced by the Plague Doctor’s movements.
I had seen Karna zig zag his way out of a hail of bullets and arrows. I had also seen Victor escape from hundreds of guards coming at him all at once. But the elegance of the Plague Doctor still stood out to me.
Well, it stood out to me as much as it could at this moment.
I poked my head out of cover and fired two shots into the room. My first shot just barely missed a moving target, while the second struck a thug on the stomach. He was wounded, but still standing. He raised his rifle and fired multiple shots back as I ducked back behind the wall.
"That’s quite the number of them, isn’t it?" the Plague Doctor remarked as a bullet barely whizzed by my head; he sent another shot into the room, and a thug fell dead.
Following his lead, I fired several more shots into the room without looking, then peeked out to fire three more. A bullet struck a man on the leg, bringing him to his knees, before another buried itself into his chest.
He collapsed to the ground. Not dead, per se. But I was certain he was bleeding out.
"Good shot, you must have had quite a lot of practice with that weapon, haven’t you?"
"Thanks," I said, wincing as a bolt of energy barely grazed my shoulder. I grasped the light wound, and looked at my bloodied palm. "But could we maybe do the talking later? I’m not a big fan of dying, and I think that’s looking like a real possibility right now."
"Of course." The Plague Doctor nodded his beak-like mask. He nonchalantly began inserting bullet shells into his revolver as the thugs edged closer to the door.
I hugged my back against the wall, giving him a sidelong glance "Don’t you have six bullets in that or something?"
"Close. But I can have up to eight shots in it."
"So why do you have to keep doing that?" I nearly shouted.
"Because," he said, getting up and reaching
