Olga was the first to wander into the narrow twisty passageway. She was armed to the teeth, with a longsword swiped from the gang armoury and two pistols, one in her hand, ready to shoot or slice whoever or whatever she would meet. The other one she tucked behind her belt. The boss was right behind her, sporting a musket, a pistol just like hers, stuck behind his belt, and a falchion in a scabbard, ready to be drawn if necessary. The three remaining goons were closing the procession, each one carrying a pistol or a longarm, and keeping their eyes peeled. No one said a word, but judging by their ragged breaths they were ready for just about anything.

As the rift narrowed and Olga took the point, she began dreading the inevitable encounter, and the feeling intensified with each step. Her nose was still raw to the touch and she could still feel the bump on her head, both a direct result of the beating she received a few days prior. She had to reluctantly admit that this Makone fella was the first person in a long while who managed to give her a proper ass kicking. Ever since she discovered her ‘gift’ she came to expect to have an ever-increasing advantage, which could not be countered. All was great until he showed up. He was extremely fast, like no one she had ever met before… and, yes, he did take a beating himself, but… he was still alive.

In her reasoning, alive opponents fell into one of two types - one that takes the hint and pays, and one which comes back for vengeance. He clearly belonged to the latter group. Except that now she had no element of surprise on her side, and there was no telling what the guy prepared to get to her. Deep inside, Olga felt something which she hadn't felt for a while. Fear. With each step getting her closer to the ravine exit, her heart was beating faster, her hands were sweating and vision was becoming more and more tunnel-like.

-"Olga!” - Alexiei’s voice, followed by a nudge, brought her back to the reality - “Take a look outside, will you?”

-“Shure, bossichka, shure” - she replied with a weariness in her voice, and then stuck her head out. She looked left and right, but there was nothing in particular or out of the ordinary to look at. Granted, the last neck of the passage considerably narrowed her field of view - “Noffin’ bossichka. Can’t see shit.”

-"Who was on the cliff duty?" - asked Novikov, wiping his forehead with a sleeve.

-"Massam, boss." - came a gruff reply from behind.

-”Well, if he didn't shoot them by now, then he must be dead. Or asleep. Either way I'll rip his head off once this is over." - he paused for a moment - "Well, fuck. Olga, let me through.”

She pressed her back into the rock wall, allowing Alexiei to walk past her. He did exactly the same as she did before: stuck his head out over the rock edge. And just as Olga, he saw pretty much the same ‘nothing’.

-”McKeone!” - he shouted - “I know you are there!”

There was a brief moment of silence, filled with a quiet whistling of the wind, pushing its way into the rift and echoing off the walls around them. The effect was nearly comical, as both the wind and their voices sounded as if they were at the bottom of a deep well.

-”Alexiei Novikov!” - finally came the answer from the outside - “I came to talk!”

-”Oh, really?” - he muttered, then raised his voice back up - “What about!?”

-”Not like this! Come out!” - came the reply.

Alexiei paused to think. Then cocked his musket and nodded at his goons to follow him.

-”Well, fuck it. Let’s do this. If anything, just shoot to kill.” - his men,  including Olga, nodded or confirmed verbally that they understood. 

The woman then again took the point and started creeping forward, step by step, looking for any signs of a trap. She was as tense as a properly wound up Usterlan merchant, and even a small pebble, which randomly crashed right next to her, falling from somewhere above, nearly made her discharge her weapon in its general direction. When they finally emerged from the rift, with guns drawn and ready to shoot, the men hastily dispersed in random directions, searching for cover. Olga however didn't. She positioned herself in the front of her boss and slightly to the side, preferring to have as much space to manoeuvre as possible. Just as the goons were reaching their chosen pieces of terrain to hide behind, Beorg simply and unceremoniously stood up from his hiding spot, holding both of his pistols and aiming one at Alexiei and the other at Olga. Once the bandits noticed the nord, all barrels pointed at him.

Olga scoffed quietly. She saw this particular situation before, just a few days ago. It didn't end well then, and it probably wouldn’t be ending well today.

-”Are we going to talk with the guns drawn?” - dryly said the aberrant.

-"We have more barrels than you, so…" - the gang leader finished mid-sentence on a hanging note.

-"Do not be so sure." - replied the nord calmly.

Alexiei risked a quick look both ways and noticed four more guns, wielded by two people who gave an undoubtful impression of being ready to exchange fire. Alexiei nodded slightly in appreciation of his opponent's preparedness.

-”You sir are one fucking weird banker. That is for sure.” - he lowered his musket - “What do you want?”

-”I see you were talking to Andros.” - said Beorg lowering both of his weapons as well, giving the situation a semblance of civility.

-”Our, by Maluk anointed, mayor Greogor Andros does not speak to scum such as me and my gay companions." - he adorned his face with a fake smile - "Now. Answer. What do you want?”

-”Compensation for the losses your gay companions cost me.”

-”Well, tough shit then. You won’t get it." - he waved his hand in a dismissive manner - "Now. Get the fuck out of my sight, before I order to shoot you.”

-”That would be unwise." - the nord made no movement, and the tone of his voice didn't change. It still sounded annoyingly flat - "There are a hundred men en-route right now to this location with explicit orders to storm it and take no prisoners.”

-”You’re bluffing.”

Beorg shrugged. This activity involved raising and then lowering his shoulders by maybe a cimer.

-”Try me.”

-”You’re bluffing, because I...”- Alexiei hung his voice for a second, conveying how smug he was -”...I’ve got your precious friends right there in the camp. If anything happens...”

-”Look behind you.” - interrupted the aberrant calmly, and then nodded in the direction of the rift’s opening. There was a brief moment of delay, while Alexiei was considering whether this was a trick. Was this nord naive enough to try something so trivial? He decided not to risk it and nodded at one of his men to check the entrance, not letting his eyes off the nord. The goon quickly peeked behind him, then scowled and grunted.

-"Yah boss." - he said in a gruff voice - "Dey be fri. An' armd."

Novikov sighed and took a quick peek himself. There stood Maanica with a determined grimace and holding two pistols aimed straight at him, and Niven right beside her, with a sword in his right hand, a knife in the left and a smug expression on his face. Blood, clearly visible on the islander, told Alexiei that his cook is most likely unfit for duty. Permanently.

The ringleader's shoulders sagged in realisation that these negotiations were over before they even started.

-”Well. Fuck me then!” - Alexiei clearly was not happy - “How much? Thousand? Two thousand? Five Ki? Maybe we can finish this without shooting at each other?”

Beorg pointed at Olga with his chin.

-”Her.”

There were probably some more words spoken later. Olga didn’t hear them. As soon as McKeone mentioned her she was overcome by fear. Her heart was racing. She reached for the gift. The world around her slowed to a crawl. She  dropped the pistol and gripped the handle of the sword that much harder. Her feet dug a touch deeper into the sand. She sprung into action.

Did McKeone see this? Probably. Did he have a chance to defeat her? She didn’t care. She closed the twenty mer gap between her and the target in five drips. Her drips. They probably just saw her blink almost instantly. She heard the grotesquely distorted voice of her boss, probably shouting something to stop her.

There was no stopping her now.

All she saw was this fucking nord and his fucking mug. She knew he saw her coming, as he was looking straight at her, but he didn't twitch. Just waited there, calmly and patiently, not only not lifting his pistols to aim at her but instead, in slow motion, deliberately sliding his fingers off both triggers. His gaze crossed hers, and seemed to just spur her to do what was needed. Such an infuriating display of unfettered arrogance made her vision turn red. She thrust herself at him, sword first, with her entire might, putting the full weight of her body, the gift-accelerated speed and boiling anger behind it. At that brief moment all that mattered to her was for this motherfucker to die.