Studying himself in the mirror, Tornado Joe picked some long silver hairs off of his shirt. He kept the sleeves rolled, his poncho pushed back, looking as fresh as he could for the day’s activities. Standing in the hotel room in Chattanooga, he thought of his mission. Investigation into the Yellow Cult, a pursuit which had taken the greater part of four years, had led him to yet another stop, yet another lead.

  It had been well over two years since the bitter events in New York. He had wanted to give up after that, throw his hands in the air and say he gave it his best shot. He really wanted to take a break. He knew he couldn’t do that, he had taken an oath to protect people. The Yellow Cult was a threat to all Americans, not just the son of his mentor. Joe had not given up, only changed gears. On Hallows Eve of 1938, Joe yet again found himself on the trail looking for Yellow Cultists.

  Lou’s remote investigations had led him to a particularly unsavory lead, the Sundance Saloon. The Sundance was an Oathbreaker Six-Gun hangout, a place in Tennessee where those not bound to the ethics of the Posse could go and drink, discuss magical goings on free of Posse control. A lot of unsettling things went on in places like the Outlaw, it was not a place Joe would typically find himself. However, these were curious times for the Posse, with curious challenges. They required of Tornado Joe the most curious of approaches.

  As he preened himself in the mirror, he felt violet eyes on him. The bed sheets stirred about. An odd feeling slipped into Joe’s gut, cutting out the affection he could feel from his partner witch. He didn’t know why, but he was feeling dread. The feeling passed as quick as it came.

  “Play time’s over, I told you that we’d have to be up and about at a reasonable time.” Joe preempted her complaints, “You agreed.”

  The sheets groaned and whined, “Come on, just a little longer. You’re so selfish.”

  The Six-Gun pressed a hand to the discoloration barely visible on his skin, just above his shirt collar. Displeased with the witch-born blemish on his neck, he scowled. Joe had spent a good deal of time since 1936 making up for the way he had treated his lover. Those thoughts of manipulation had waned, and he had come back to viewing things Lou’s way. He appreciated Winona for sticking by him even when he had visibly changed, and he wanted to sit right where he was with her now.

  “You learn to behave yourself and maybe I won’t have to cut you off so quick.” He smirked playfully.

  Before the witch in the bedsheets could respond, a knock at the door caught Joe’s attention.

  Opening it, he could the witch Ivy standing in the doorway. She smiled at them, appraising Tornado Joe silently.

  “What’s going on Ivy?” Joe asked.

  “You two are late,” The young witch responded, her demeanor unbroken by their tardiness, “Though I’m sure sister Winona is the real culprit.”

  The older of the two witches, having fully dressed herself with the flick of her hand, floated over to the doorway with a flat look. She did not feel the need to act possessively in Ivy’s presence, understanding where her younger sister witch stood, but she did not appreciate the accurate accusation.

  “Right again, Ivy.” Joe shook his head, earning a glare from his partner witch.

  The gunslinger stepped out into the hotel dining room with the two witches. Another Six-Gun sat at the table, a plate in front of him. Heinrich dabbed his chin with a napkin. He kept his face clean shaven, minus his groomed moustache, and so he felt the need to keep it clean of food as well. His partner witch ensured he kept himself neat and tidy at all times, insisting he take care of his appearance.

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  Ivy floated over to him, warm affection on her eyes. “All done, sweetheart?”

  The younger Green Coven witch was especially sweet with her Gun, something which Winona found tedious at times. Of course Joe found this to be somewhat ironic. Regardless, the elder daughter of Shaina Grey preferred for the other witches around to pay more attention to their partners than hers.

  “All good, thank you.” Heinrich returned her affection in kind, a ritual which paid out double his investment. He planted a surly kiss on her cheek.

  “Is it time, then?” He asked.

  Joe lit up a cigarillo, laced with a preferred blend of Resolve strengthening herbs. “Yup, I suppose. Let’s hit it.” He offered over a second of the rolled alchemical aids to his compatriot.

  “What?” Winona shook Joe’s shoulders, tossing the smoke about as he teetered, “What about my breakfast, wise guy?”

  Joe glared, “We agreed, extra time in bed OR breakfast. You made your pick, I’m gonna hold you to it.”

  “You’re lucky I love you, Joseph.” She crossed her arms.

  Looking into those lavenders, Joe tried to scope out the emotional profile of his partner witch. This was a task he was well suited for, standing silently for a moment. He made a habit of checking to see if Winona Grey was truly upset, or merely acting out for attention. She had a nasty propensity for that kind of behavior, something he only rewarded with little prizes, like their late morning festivities in the bedroom. However, Winona could be a serious woman with serious needs. She made it known when she wasn’t happy with him. Unfortunately, it often looked the same as when she was only playing games.

  Joe had made his assessment, she was fine. He puffed out a bit, letting the cigarillo invigorate his nerves and strengthen his Resolve. Today was not a hunt, he hoped there would be no need for Resolve at all. With the Sundance Saloon he couldn’t be sure.

  The pair of Six-Guns came to the unassuming spot, on the unassuming street, in an unassuming part of town, where the Sundance Saloon was supposed to be. Joe had never actually been before, he had only heard from others that it was here. He stared at the red-bricked building in front of him, like all the others to the left and right of it. That feeling of looming danger ran up to Joe again. He pondered leaving for just a moment, until the feeling ran past him.

  “1147 Contick Street.” Joe sighed, “This is the place.”

  The witches stuck close by, unsure of the dangers lurking in the famed Oathbreaker bar. There were no cars I the street, this part of town typically remained empty. The occasional homeless camp made for the only signs of life around.

  Heinrich rubbed his neck, card-carrying the Nine of Diamonds a little uneasy. “We are going in there for information on the Cult, ya?”

  His accent always got thicker with his nerves, something Ivy would normally find adorable. In this situation, her anxiety matched his own. Only Tornado Joe was completely confident in the situation, but it was not because he believed everything would be fine. Since the incident in New York City, Joe felt he had something of a score to settle with the Yellow Cult. He had done a lot of damage to them over the years, but he needed his get-back for the Bastionand for Astoria. He didn’t care if he had to walk into an Oathbreaker bar to get it.

  “Well, not exactly. There’s a Cult meetup going down today in there.” Joe turned to face him.

  Heinrich and Ivy looked taken aback, they weren’t aware of this development. Winona held a stony gaze. She had seen what the Cult did to Joe, and she was completely on board with any mission he underwent to undermine them. Unlike before, the silver-haired witch insisted on staying by his side. She would not let him slip to Yellow influence again, if she could help it. Joe had discovered in himself an unexpected appreciation for Winona's steadfastness.

  Joe could see the apprehension on heir faces. He lowered icy blue eyes. “Alright. You two wait out here. Winny and I will go inside.

  The door cracked open before Joe even reached for the handle. A man with steel-grey eyes, a winding scar across his face, and a receding hairline looked him up and down. Joe could hear the sounds of clanking glass and laughter inside.

  “What do YOU want?” He demanded, “Posse Patsy, you can’t come in here.”

  “I got the vigor for it.” Joe produced the coin Billy Baird had given him, its inlaid V glimmering.

  The man took a long look at it, his eyes lazily pouring over the coin in Joe’s hand. His gaze traveled upward, meeting Joe eye to eye. Joe could feel Resolve on the currents, searching him over in some arcane way.

  “You certainly do.” He opened the door fully, gesturing for Joe to come inside, “Welcome to the Sundance. Keep that witch on a tight leash, I don’t want anybody getting hexed into a lizard today.”

  Joe slid Winona a sly look. She glowered at him, daring him to make a comment. The Six-Gun opted for silence.