"DEALLLLRRRRR! GIIIIIVEEEE DEALLLRRR!!" The hare’s roar rattled glasses still hanging on the back bar. It lurched toward Buck, crushing splintered chairs underfoot. Its clothes hung in shredded ribbons. Blood from raw, open sores mottled its fur and it raked at them with cracked nails. Bloodshot eyes locked onto him—empty of reason, full of pain.

  The floor in front of the beast cracked. Spikes of wood and thorn punched upward, stabbing into its foot. It shrieked and staggered. Up on the balcony, Sparks held his stance, concentrating on the spell.

  "Showoff," Buck muttered.

  The hare shifted its weight, coiled, and launched for the stage. Buck dove aside just in time. It landed like a wrecking ball, the impact pitching him into an overturned blackjack table.

  He grabbed a chair to brace himself. "You’re a big fella," he said through gritted teeth. "Have a seat!" He hurled the chair. It cracked across the hare’s jaw, splintering into kindling. Blood dribbled from its nostril.

  "Well, shit."

  The beast roared again and swiped with a paw the size of a dinner plate. Buck rolled behind the table, wood exploding where he’d just been. He needed backup. More than that, he needed a plan.

  "BUCK!" Goldie’s voice rang sharp from the stage wing. She pointed up. Hazelnut was climbing around the light rigging like a squirrel possessed.

  "What are you—" His words were cut off by a crash at the front.

  Five figures stormed in. Black body armor, gas masks and moving with practiced precision. Their leader pointed towards the hare. "There he is, Fixer. That’s your mark."

  This wasn't Special Weapons and Tactical Spells. They wore no insignia or badges.

  Fixer stepped forward—then froze, hands clutching at his stomach. Muffled laughter bubbled out from under his mask, building to hysterics until he collapsed. Buck spotted a red-and-green parrot nearby, palm out, magic shimmering in the air.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  A ring of blue fire exploded, circling around the leader’s group—more of Sparks’ handiwork. "Spellcasters!" the leader barked. "Shoot the bird! Clear the upper level!" Gunfire erupted. One soldier broke for the stairs, the others swept the main floor with bullets. The parrot dropped, along with patrons trying to escape.

  The hare turned at the gunfire. For a second—just the briefest moment—its eyes cleared, full of naked terror. Then it bolted, smashing through a backstage door. Fixer followed.

  Buck moved without thinking, revolver barking to pull fire away from civilians. Goldie shimmered into view at the parrot’s side, hands glowing. Buck laid down cover fire until both ducked behind a toppled roulette table.

  "Fixer! Get your mark!" the leader roared.

  A flash of metal shot down from the ceiling. Hazelnut’s dagger flew true from the rigging, burying into the leader’s shoulder. He screamed, firing wildly in her direction. She squeaked and tumbled down, scrambling to the parrot’s cover.

  "ENOUGH!" The leader bellowed, pulling the dagger from his shoulder. "Torch it!" He pulled out a flare gun, and fired into the bar. Bottles went up in a fireball, flames racing across liquor-soaked wood. Louie’s scream cut through the gunfire.

  The heat hit Buck in the face, dragging up memories he’d buried deep. His breath shortened. His hands shook.

  "Buck!" Goldie’s voice snapped him back to the present. She was crouched behind a table, smoke curling past her hair. An ember landed on the hem of her dress and she swatted it out.

  "Goldie! We gotta get out of here before the whole place goes up!"

  They moved together. Grenades arced through the air—bursts of fire leaping to the curtains. "This way!" Goldie cried, pulling Buck towards the back of the lounge. "I know of a way out!" She yanked a rug back, revealing a hatch. Cold air hissed upward as she pulled it open.

  Looking for any nearby survivors, Buck spotted Sparks on the upper level, waving people out through a smashed second story window. He called out over the noise of the fire. Sparks' only response was a pulling gesture towards the fire at the bar. The flames swirled together and moved aside, giving Louie an opportunity to escape. Buck waved the ox over and watched him drop down first, before following Goldie and pulling the hatch closed.

  The tunnels below were made of cool, cold stone and smelling of dust and old bootlegger stories. A welcome relief from the inferno above. At the other end was a ladder, bringing them to street level in a back alley nearby.

  "What. The hell. Just happened?" Louie wheezed between breaths.

  Buck took a moment to look them over while catching his breath. Goldie’s dress was ruined and her hair was disheveled but otherwise appeared uninjured. Louie was going to need some attention for his burns.

  "Everyone all right?" Buck asked.

  Goldie nodded and asked, "Buck, who were those people?"

  "I have no idea. Never seen the likes of them before. I think they were after that hare."

  He moved towards the end of the alley. Smoke billowed upwards from the lounge, colored by the red and blue lights of emergency vehicles. Crowds gathered as police worked to cordon off the area.

  "Oh no, those poor people! The lounge!" Goldie cried. She slid down Buck's arm as she fell to her knees in distress at the scene. Somewhere in the crowd, he could only hope Hazelnut and Sparks were still breathing.

  "I'm sorry, Goldie. Only social calls from now on. I promise."