“I’ll show that bastard stingy,” Edgar muttered as I lowered the platform gingerly to the ground. “See if he gets any more amulets at cost.

He and Cora were waiting for me, sitting on the manicured lawn. Much to my surprise, Cora was patting him on the arm in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, though the blood crusting her gambeson sort of ruined the effect. 

“Sore spot?” I mouthed as she looked up.

“Long story,” she replied in kind. 

I cleared my throat.

“So, uh, hi,” I said lamely as I tried to stand. My balance was a bit wobbly after spending so long on the platform. It was a bit like getting off a boat after an afternoon on the waves. 

“What? Oh, right. That was good shooting back there,” Edgar said, shaking himself. “Looks like we made the right call recruiting you.”

“I am to please,” I said with a grin. It was a forced grin, but a grin nonetheless. 

“I doubt anyone you left breathing is all that pleased,” Cora said. Her grin was genuine, and had all the warmth and kindness of a great white sizing up a seal. “I take it back. Those little bullets are vicious.”

“Uh, thanks, I think.”

“If you can’t tell, we don’t get many adherents of the Church of Stoner in these parts,” Edgar said. “A few more follow the Gospel of Kalashnikov, but your average assault rifle doesn’t have enough ass for close quarters fighting, or so they think, and our marksmen mostly go for .50 BMG.”

“I see,” I said. 

I did see. It was pretty hard not to, all things considered. John Browning’s mad .30-06 on steroids, the .50 Browning Machine Gun, was considered the premier long range bullet for a really long time. But times were changing, and it was getting a bit long in the tooth. 

The half-inch in diameter bullet was huge, could reach out and touch someone over a mile away, and did a number on most anything it hit. But it also required a massive gun to tame the forces involved, and wasn’t the most ballistically efficient bullet ever designed. Modern rounds like the 6.5 Creedmoor and .338 Lapua were more accurate, and if they didn’t have the same almighty thump on target, you could carry more and place them with more confidence.  

“I see that you see,” Cora said, “but I don’t see what you see. What does he see?”

She punched him lightly on the arm. 

“He sees that it’s time to start preaching the good word. But first, we need to head back to the barracks, get cleaned up, and do a quick debrief. By the time we’re done, the investigators should have finished up.”