<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ac/600full-kenneth-branagh.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Tommy Flanagan (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9819558#msg9819558)<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 20, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Around Town<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Walker, CLOSED<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Tommy's hands kept as busy as his expressive face. While he cringed and looked startled appropriately at each of the successively more frightful -- but decidedly not supernatural -- nightmares, he began doling out consolation prizes a nickel at a time. "Oh my.... All the way to the bottom?... And how big were its teeth?.... That many of them, and all with guns?..." Occasionally he would look over at Walker with a smug expression, as if his hometown team were blowing the visitors out of the water with the sheer terror of their nightmares. Although as Tommy stopped to think about it, Walker's people probably had a much stronger claim on the "Home" status in this particular game.<br/><br/>Unfortunately it looked like they were going to be spending money, precious time and lemon drops on a dry shaft. Until Jake stepped forward. Tommy had taken the measure of a man many times across a table, and he knew immediately that Jake wasn't bluffing.<br/><br/>Dressed in black. Skull for a head. Carries a scythe.<em>Why, that could be virtually anybody!</em>But Tommy managed for once to swallow his automatic witticism before it escaped from his lips. The very last thing these kids needed was another grownup telling them they were crazy. That was a sure path to the end of the interview, and possibly the end of their investigation. But was that altogether a bad thing? He'd just been told point-blank that the bogeyman Walker wanted him to hunt was the Pale Rider himself, maybe absent one horse. He'd signed on to take down a manitou. Not go toe to toe with Death.<br/><br/>Then he looked at the faces of the children. They'd seen this thing. They knew it was real. They knew it was coming for them. And they didn't have a single able body to turn to for help. His face grew serious.<br/><br/>"I reckon I just won that bet, Walker. These here young men and women, telling us what they've seen? There ain't a braver man wearing a tin star in Gomorra, I'd wager. How many of you all have seen this fella?"<br/><br/>He willed himself not to tremble as hand after hand rose slowly into the air. Nearly all of them. Plus one or two who clearly just didn't want to be left out. God bless the Gomorra competitive spirit.<br/><br/>"All right. Everybody, hand up or not, gets your dollar, and I consider it a just reward for your honesty. I believe you, I really do, but I'll do you even one better than that. Because you see, my friend and I aren't here just because of some bet." Tommy lied for a living. He was good at it. He could make you look down to check if your shoes were on fire, he could rake a pot with a busted straight, and he could convince a man that he had just dropped by the house to help his wife with a rusty porch door swing. Lying to a bunch of kids was, pardon the expression, child's play. But not this time. They deserved better than that.<br/><br/>"I'm not gonna lie to you all; I respect you too much for that. Me and my friend here are going to take a shot at this Bone Man. He's got some Injun magic up his sleeve, and I've got a couple of tricks of my own -- and don't you dare spread that last part around. I could tell you it was a duck hunt, but you know it ain't. We're still gonna try, because somebody's got to. If you want to stay clear of the mess tonight I wouldn't blame you a bit. Maybe take a little visit over to St. Martin's -- the lock on that door is like a piece of chewing gum. But if you want to lend us a hand then we'd be right appreciative."<br/><br/>"All you have to do is take one of these whistles. I don't have enough for everyone, so if you're a good whistler on your own then pass 'em on. You stay up tonight, and if the man who left his skin at the laundry shows up you blow three short tweets. Then me and my friend here'll come running while you get to where it's safe. We'll take care of the rest."<br/><br/><em>And what happens then?</em>he asked himself. Nobody inside seemed to be in the mood to cough up an answer.<br/><br/><br/>