Hello Everybody, Wombag1786 here.

So, when I was being driven back to College in January 2018. Me and my dad took a pitstop in Providence Rhode Island. For those who don't know why, it's because of one of the most inspirational American horror writers lived and died down there. No, it isn't Edger Allen Poe. I mean H.P Lovecraft. (At the mountain of madness, the haunter in the dark, shadow out of time, Call of Cthulhu?) So, after picking up his book on all his written weird and horrific stories I thought about writing a crossover mixture between some OC's I made up and Season 6 RWBY characters. So, with fandom comes an alternate 1920's. To give you a short description of what is different, WW1 lasted an extra year ending in 1919, Mexico received the Zimmerman Note and invades Americas southwest area. London burns to the ground during a German air raid, Lenin Trotsky took over the Communist party and Stalin was exiled to Mexico, France nearly capitulated while Italy did. Due to these events, Woodrow Wilson was forced to allow women and desegregate the army due to the heavy losses during the second American Mexican war. (Fun fact Annie Oakley tried twice to get women into the military as a sharp shooter brigade. Once during the Spanish American War, and WW1.) Now with the Allies powers winning the war a year later and Germany suffered even greater during the treaty of Versailles this will cause different historic events to happen from our own timeline, especially if you add in the Cthulhu Mythos during the second world war. A few examples of this alternate timeline has to be that Woodrow can't desegregate the army or government without massive protest and opposition to his political party. Women easily demanded more rights because they too, bled on the battlefield. (So think first wave with parts of second wave of feminism. Demands for rights to vote and job opportunity.) Along with that, the civil rights movement happens forty years early. Which is also around the time that the Klan was at it's most powerful. (So, this is going to be more bloody, especially with no Martin Luthor King or Malcolm X leading Civil Rights.)

In any case, this story will start off in the 1920-1950's and primarily in America. So, due to how I love stories that stay historically truthful I have to warn everyone that if you are easily offended by usage of racial slurs, other degradative terms, political agendas, war crimes, and later on the Holocaust, but made worst somehow. Then this story isn't meant for you and you don't have to read it.

Anyways this story isn't done yet. I wished to have this release by next summer, but waiting two years to release this story has proven to be creatively and spiritually taxing. So; with Halloween upon us I thought I release the three current chapters as advertisement, and a little October seasonal story. Please Fav and Fol the story and leave a comment or question about it, the more questions and simple comments that either praises or criticizes, (either is fine) helps the story.

So please enjoy the first chapter. The Bootlegger.

I don't own The Cthulhu Mythos or RWBY


New Orleans Louisiana July 3, 1924, downtown coffee shop.

The scene opens up on an ash tray with a semi-freshly lit cigar in it. In the background was the sound of a southern storm brewing as lightning would light up the dark room. As smoke from the cigarette ascended into the air, a filthy and bloody hand reaches down to pick it up. The view follows the hand till we meet the man who had placed the cigarette into his mouth. He wasn't the most appealing of men. His brown hair was greasy and a mess, his hazel harden eyes were sunken in with sleep depression and dried tears. He had a huge scar going up from his left lip to his ear where he was missing the entire bottom lobe. His clothes were tattered and bloody. A white button-down shirt with a grey suit vest covering it. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top to expose that his chest was riddled with chemical burns. It all semi-neatly tucked into his grey suit pants that follows down towards the ground. There next to a pair of black loafers was a dead body laid still, with his hand out reaching towards his shoes. The view shifts up to his face as he slowly exhaled the fumes from his cracked lips while he stares at a few photos and news article of himself. As he mentally reread his life story, he begins to narrate in a soft Boston accent.

"My name is Jacob Schmidt. I was born in Boston around 1890, served in the army from 1917-1919, worked in bootlegging a year after Probation. I was always a man of few words, kept to myself most times and rarely got into fights. Some of children of the orphanage called me a dim bastard mostly on account of speaking very little; and that my mother was a Scottish immigrant that died from childbirth after falling for a European heir traveling the country. Once she passed, the sisters took me in. They were stern but fair with everyone, especially me. Taught me basic English and Latin. One Nun, Sister Maria taught me Spanish or at least enough to know when someone just complimented or insulted me. As time went on, they wished for me to become a catholic priest like most orphans; but that didn't feel right. So, I left the orphanage in 1907. Traveled from one slum to the next doing odd jobs. I was a nobody in a town of Irishmen who hated me for my Scottish looks, and was hated by the rest for my accent. At times it can be mistaken for a mick." He narrates as he looks down at a black and white photo of a younger version of him. The view then scrolls to a picture of him in a regiment clothes with his platoon.

"One day I heard the news that came from down southwest. Mexico had just invaded Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and southern California. I figure nothing was left for me in this town, so I enlisted. Figure seeing the world wouldn't hurt, plus I heard they pay extra for anyone who spoke Spanish. After basic training I was ready to be shipped off to Mexico. However, they surrender a month before dispatch. I was instead deployed to northern France. Europe was a shit show for years, ever since assassination of Franz Ferdinand. Now it seems me and the rest are going to be tossed face first into the eye of it all." The view then changes to a few photos of him in the trenches with a M97 trench shotgun in hand, sharing a smoke with another Doughboy and Tommy soldiers. The three were looking down at a dead German storm trooper.

"Years of hellish combat with the body count raised over the millions, over nothing. It got so bad Russia pulled its own ass out after two violent Civil wars. Austrian with the support of German troops pushed Italy back and forced them to surrender. France almost quit after a failed Communist coup. It became apparent that the Mexicans attacked us because the Germans promised them the land they invaded as war repression's if they halted the supplies to England and France. They nearly did give the Krauts a chance to take Verdun again. Shame they never counted on an old sharpshooter slowing down the Mexican push. Or how her death made her a national martyr" The view scrolls down to expose a bloodied Trench knuckle duster knife, sticking out of the wooden table. Below it was a pair of dog tags with Jacobs name and rank with a cross symbol at the bottom. The dog tags semi-covered a picture of him in the hospital next to an American female pilot.

"With the military in shambles from the Mexican campaign, US president Woodrow Wilson was forced to signed an unpopular executive order at the time. The Bill not only desegregated the military, but allowed women to act as secondary soldiers. Never met many in the trenches, but I did drag one from her crashed plane out in no man's land. We still keep in contact years later; however, we do not talk about what happened in those god forsaken trenches. What happened in those trenches is something I rather forget. Once the war was done; I received my Purple Heart and service cross before walking into a crowd of cheering people. Disappearing with only the clothes on my back and the trench knife that saved my ass in those trenches more times then I wish to mention." He pauses his narration for a moment. He reached into his shirt pocket to pull out some meddles he received in the war. After starring at them, he quickly placed them away before looking down at a news article.

"The next year was a blur as prohibition made drinks hard to come by, and my own memories of the madness haunts my dreams every night. Somehow a year later, I became a squatter in the Southside Chicago slums where a gang shoot out was happening. One slightly chubby man stood alone against some Irish bastards with only a razor blade. I didn't really know what happened next. The moment I heard the sound of gun fire I was once more back in those god forsaken trenches and I snapped." Next to those previous mentioned photos was a news article describing a horrific shooting with twenty-five dead and the shooter at large.

"When I came to, I was on a cot with a tough guy looking over me. He told me that his boss was thankful and he will be here soon. After what felt like hours that same slightly chubby man with a scar over his chin walked in with two body guards. He sat down and told me everything that had happened. Not only did I saved his life, but fought off the Irish mob and police with nothing but a double barrel and pistol for three hours. As thanks he had the law bribed and I was pardoned from the shootout, due to 'insufficient evidence and witness'. He then offered me a job as a bonus for killing the right-hand man of the Northside gang. I excepted not wanting to go back to the slums, and that is how I became a bootlegger for Al Capone." The screen lowers to show a photo of Jacob having tea with Al Capone in his Lexington Hotel suit, wearing new fancy clothes. Next to the photo was an Anti-Saloon-League business card.

"I was not only his best, but THE best Bootlegger in all of Chicago. Nobody dared to steal from Al or me unless they want to meet a messy end. Still, even though I had a roof overhead, three hot meals, expensive Liquor, and any women of choice, I still always ended up back in those fucking trenches every time I closed my eyes. One day, I had enough. I was planning to end it by a noose in my room when I came across some broad out of the black neighborhood. She was fighting off some people from the America First Organization that was looking for some poor blacks to harass." The screen lowers downwards at an American First league business card and a free administration for a jazz concert. Next to the two items is a photo of an African American woman with short ebony curly hair posing for a photo.

"She had enough of their crude mocking and was putting a real hurt on those fuckers. I tried to step in and stop them from getting any ideas. However, they weren't above beating a dame, especially when the dame threw the first punch. During the mist of the brawl, she knocked me down thinking I was one of them. Damn did she have a right hook, heh. So much for one last good deed. Regardless, once the brawl ended and the pricks scattered with their tails between their legs, I begin shouted at her for knocking me flat. We argued for ten minutes till she ended it by spitting at my face and walked away. Later on; that night when I was preparing myself to end it all in my apartment, I heard a knock on the door. Deciding that I can spare a few minutes I opened the door to see an elderly black man standing next to the same gal from before. Only she was wearing a trench coat with something more revealing underneath." The screen moved to the side to show another ticket for Jazz that was meant for a showing two year's back. Next to it was a picture of a father daughter duo playing on stage.

"I recognized the old man; he was a Jazz player who worked every Tuesday's at Luige's bar. Apparently, he was at my door to apologizes for his daughter's 'behavior' and begged me not to get Al involved. I told him it was fine and to leave, but he was thorough on not getting Al involved. Despite my protest, he pushed his daughter into the room before telling me I can have her for the night as representatives for the black eye. I couldn't do anything and I definitely didn't feel like ending my life while she was awake. She wasn't in the mood to lay with me and neither was I. So, instead we drank and talked over a cold leftover steak. I don't know what happened that night but when I awoke, I was still dressed with the dame silently snoozing next to me. I figure if there was a time to end it, I should do it now; but as I place the noose around my neck, I realized something. That was the first night in a year where I slept without nightmares. I felt, peaceful. So, when the women woke up, she didn't see a body swinging; but rather a plate of freshly fried eggs and toast at the table. We hit it off from there and I still don't know if we did it the night before, but it doesn't matter then or now; we were young and in love. Months later I threatened or bribed every priest and government official within a twelve-mile radius just so I can marry her. We were married on Dec 24, 1921 and it was the first time since the beginning of the war when I was actually smiling. She knew what I did for my job and she didn't really complain, much." Jacob stop narrating as he held up a photo of his wedding day with his left hand. He still had the ring on his left hand. As he looks at it with a small smile, tears start to run down his face before he wipes them away while looking down at a news article.

"One day three years later, a surge of prohibition officers came in to investigate the city for signs of anti-temperance acts. This made my business... difficult and dangerous. So, to protect my wife who had our first daughter, Abigale Schmidt; two and half years prior and another child along the way was sent to her grandparents' home down south. We kissed each other goodbye before she went down to Louisiana to stay with a relative. One week later I received the news, she was found dead and our child is in a coma and crippled from the waist down. I cried for at least a week till I received both her disfigured body in a closed coffin and my daughter, who had to stay in an iron lung just to breath." The news Article was about a pregnant wife who was ran over by a drunk, who was arrested and lynched despite not even being in town at the time.

"As I wept for her at the funeral, a rally can be heard behind me as the Illinois KKK Branch was protesting my wife's funeral. I had one of my men try to talk them out or at least keep their distance, but somehow one man got past them and started throwing slurs at me and my decease wife. I told him to stop but he persisted on and on and on, till I had enough and crushed his skull on his own grandfather's grave. What happened next, I don't regret to this day. I butchered each and every single one of those sons of bitches. I was spared the death penalty and sent to the mental asylum for grief and insanity." The news article talks about how the Illinois Klan Branch was disbanded when all its members were gun down in a hail of gunfire during a protest at a graveyard.

"After five months I was released, to which I spent an entire month tracking down the people who really killed my wife to New Orleans. They were easy to spot yet so hard to find. Unlike most Klan's men, they were seclusive and they didn't allow the entry of new members unless they were well known or a special case. It took my man weeks to get a name of one very noisy judge, who always visited a cafe with his buddies. Always bragging about how the south will rise again or how allowing Blacks to walk with whites was un-American, nonsense. Heh, heh… well when I got to him. He dropped that 'Anti-American' bullshit fast and hard, especially when he met the real husband of Tabita Schmidt." Schmidt said as he finished his narration by turning around to see the judge who purposely sentence the wrong man. His eyes were wide and stained with terror and tears, his throat slit so wide that if his tongue was smaller it would have fallen through. As Schmidt exhales the smoke from his lungs, multiple cars pulled in with their lights pouring in as the engines came to a stop. Following that the sound of people exiting their cars with guns being cocked.

"About fuckin time." Schmidt said as he places the photos and newspaper clippings into a folder. He slowly stands up and grabs a can of pitch the Germans used in there Flameworked.

"I was starting to get cold." Schmidt mutters sarcastically as he places on his trench coat and grey fedora.

Using the last of the military grade pitch, he shook it onto the file's and chair he was sitting on, before grabbing a violin case and leaving. He stops by the door taking one last drag and exhale of the cigarette before he tossed it onto the ground, causing the entire Cafe to burst into an inferno of fire. Outside the café, a few hooded men in cloaks and shotguns exited the cars and walked toward the café. There robes were purple, coated with gold trimmings and strange symbols etched into them. Some spoke in hushes and others only nod to each other. As they approached the café with murderous intentions, the faint smell of gas and the dim light from up above tipped off one member in the back.

"Oh Shit!" He shouts out before a huge burst of fire spits out all the windows and doors, burning majority of the cultist and killing a few that were unlucky to be inside. As they picked themselves up in agony, a series of gunfire cuts most of them down with a simple burst fire of a Chicago typewriter.

Jacob walks out of the alleyway, Tommy gun in hand before approaching the only surviving cult member. As the cult member leading these men lays there dying, he looked up at Schmidt as he approached him. Schmidt removed his hood revealing a very hideously pale looking man underneath. The cult member couldn't see Schmidt's face until lightning reveals his face in the background.

"Heh, heh, (cough, cough) guess I should have known it be you. Heh, heh, well what now nigger lover? What no…BANG!" He didn't even have to finish before Schmidt ended him with a single bullet to the head.

"… Now, you rot." Schmidt said before kneeling down and searching through his pockets and pulling out a strange amulet. He couldn't make heads or tails what it was, but it felt disturbing to even look upon. So, he simply slips it into his pocket and walked back down the alleyway whistling 'When Johnny comes home.'

(For an added effect play The Colour Out of Space HP Lovecraft Orchestra Horror Music)

The winds start to howl even louder and floods start to block main roads of the ancient and bloodied city. This forcing Schmidt to take the back alleys to avoid the streets that were filled with waterlogged junk and murky water. He hated the smell of the swamp; of course, Boston was built on top of a swamp. But down here it was a mixture of blood, rot, and trash that has been brewing for far to god damn long in the ancient and dark mud of Louisiana. As he heads through the abandon city, he was force to duck under a fallen tree, as he does so he spots a strange Voodoo shop in a back ally. The shop wasn't something new in this city. There was the occasional voodoo parlor on every other corner where people will pay to experience the supernatural. Of course, Schmidt didn't care for it, personally the only thing that truly makes this world work is greed and greed alone. Still what caught his eye was the strange symbol on the front of the store, it looked familiar. That's when Schmidt realized he has seen that symbol before. He quickly pulls out the medallion and inspects the strange symbol closely. He soon realized that they were one and the same.

"Huh, I guess I could grab a souvenir." Schmidt said with a condescending grin. He drops the medallion back into his pocket and opened his violin case, pulling his Thomson and a few drum rounds before leaving the case behind.

He walked up the stairs seeing the door was locked by a hook on the other side. He scuffs at the cheap lock attempt and pulls out his trench knife. Using the slender blade to push the hook out of the hole, he quickly undid the lock before entering the shop. Inside was a few strange and queer possessions that would give believers gleeful shivers and norms the creeps. Compared to the war all of this Voodoo-hoodoo is just as real as the tooth fairy to Schmidt. Feeling stupid he was about to storm out of the building when one floor board caved in under his foot, causing him to fall into a flooded basement losing his Tommy gun. As he attempts to stand, he freaks at the sight of a rotting body floating and decomposing in the water. For a sliver of a moment, he was back in those god forsaken trenches. He persevered through the short moment of insanity and quickly pulled himself out of the fowl smelling water.

"Fuckin hell, (huff, huff) I hate this god forsaken town." Schmidt said as he rushed to remove his soggy trench coat.

As he does so all the contents in his jacket fell out into the murky waters below. Including the ambulate that hinted him to this Voodoo shop. He cursed his luck under his breath before, something unexpected and disturbing happened. The center of the floor started to glow an unusual hue of colors that he had never seen before in his life. As Schmidt questions the strange colors, part of the wall opens up to reveal a hidden passage way leading somewhere below the city. Intrigued by the secret passage, he slowly heads over making sure not to step on a corpse. The tunnel was pitch black with no visible lights except for one faint glow at the bottom

"… Well, better get something of value for coming down to this shit hole." Schmidt said to himself, thinking that he unearthed their secret hooch storage. He pulls a colt 1911 from out behind his back and his army wheel lift arm lighter from his pants pocket. From there he slowly descends down the strange passage way.

It was dark even with the help of his lighter, but not a normal dark. Rather an unpleasant dark that would make sane men question if they were truly alone. Despite the walls feeling more and more claustrophobic he finally came to an underground lagoon. The cavern had a big overhead, top with millions of glittering diamonds like gems. It could be mistaken for the night sky as it glitters and blooms in the darkness of the cave. Schmidt couldn't help but whistles with a greedy smirk on his face. One of these diamonds alone could land him and his daughter in the lap of luxury for a real long time. Before he could correlate a plan to retrieve the diamonds, he hears the sound of chanting coming down from a tunnel. It sounded like more than a few, so he quickly looked around for a place to hide. He noticed a few jagged tall rocks and hid behind it. As Schmidt hid behind the stalagmites, he found crates filled with strange assortment of clothes, weapons, and hand-held glass boxes. He noticed a few wallets with strangely thin yet hard cards sticking out of all of them. As his curiosity slowly begins to creep up on him, Schmidt suddenly put his thoughts on hold as a strange glow of an eerie greenish yellow came from another tunnel. Out stepped the same Klan members he had killed earlier. They were carrying a stone tab with someone unconcise on top. They seem to be led by a man in the same robe, but he had a mask with different tentacles wrapped, carved, and painted on. As well as a necklace with a huge crystal that glowed a sickly greenish yellow around his neck. As they pass by Schmidt, he heard the repeating chants of whatever they were reciting.

"Gla'aki vulgtmah throdog vulgtmah. Y' mgep nafl given c' gof'n ot shuggog. C' ephaithe rest ot ftaghu ng bthnkor, l' ya, nng. the ph'nilgh'ri ot middle ot island, bthnkor ot nilgh'ri shuggothh, llll ephaiahmgep na'ah'ehye shuggoth ph'nglui white gla'aki llll throdog legeth ot mgepog mg calm ng quietness. Gla'aki vulgtmah throdog vulgtmah. Y' mgep nafl given c' gof'n ot shuggog. C' ephaithe rest ot ftaghu ng bthnkor, l' ya, nng. the ph'nilgh'ri ot middle ot island, bthnkor ot nilgh'ri shuggothh, llll ephaiahmgep na'ah'ehye shuggoth ph'nglui white gla'aki llll throdog legeth ot mgepog mg calm ng quietness. Gla'aki vulgtmah throdog vulgtmah. Y' mgep nafl given c' gof'n ot shuggog. C' ephaithe rest ot ftaghu ng bthnkor, l' ya, nng. the ph'nilgh'ri ot middle ot island, bthnkor ot nilgh'ri shuggothh, llll ephaiahmgep na'ah'ehye shuggoth ph'nglui white gla'aki llll throdog legeth ot mgepog mg calm ng quietness. Gla'aki vulgtmah throdog vulgtmah. Y' mgep nafl given c' gof'n ot shuggog. C' ephaithe rest ot ftaghu ng bthnkor, l' ya, nng. the ph'nilgh'ri ot middle ot island, bthnkor ot nilgh'ri shuggothh, llll ephaiahmgep na'ah'ehye shuggoth ph'nglui white gla'aki llll throdog legeth ot mgepog mg calm ng quietness. Gla'aki vulgtmah throdog vulgtmah. Y' mgep nafl given c' gof'n ot shuggog. C' ephaithe rest ot ftaghu ng bthnkor, l' ya, nng. the ph'nilgh'ri ot na'ah'ehye l' ahmgep middle ot island, bthnkor ot nilgh'ri shuggothh, legeth ot throdog mgepog mg calm, calm ng white gla'aki."

Whatever it was, he knew that it was the same language those Klan members spoke; but beyond that, what they were saying was just pure nonsense to him. As he waits for them to go his hand accidently touched the glass screen causing it to open up and play a loud and strange song that definitely caught their attention. One of the hooded figures noticed the sound. So, he slowly walks over with a strange jagged dagger in hand. As he got closer, he was getting ready to stab however was hiding at any moment. Schmidt tries to turn off the glass box, but it wasn't working no matter what he did. If anything, he made the damned thing louder. So, he quickly looked around and noticed a metallic yellow hand in the pile of clothes. Meanwhile the Klan member closed in with the ceremonial dagger raised up high above his head. He places his hand on the jagged rock before quickly turning it to see, the metallic hand had was leaned against the glass device. He looks around before turning around to his fellow hooded figures and shrugged to them. He then tries to turn it off the device but also somehow made it louder. So, he tossed it into the water with a puff of rage. As the device starts to short circuited it slowly sinks to the bottom of the small lagoon.

The scene follows the device as it sinks downwards. As it slowly spirals downwards, it passes by a submerged Schmidt. He saw the glass screen shifting from different images of places he didn't recognized, but it freezes on one photo. It was of four strangely dressed girls in a grand school yard, smiling with the sunset in the background. He didn't understand what the hell was that device was, but he watches as it slowly descends down. What he saw below him almost made him loose his breath, and possible a little bit of his mind as well as the light from the device exposed the deep lagoon walls. It was covered in a slimy multi-color organ with mouths and tentacles of indescribable hideousness and horror. The sight of the walls disgusted him greatly, but what he saw at the bottom was beyond horrific. He noticed at the bottom was multiple skeletons, all impaled through the chest with sharp metallic spikes. Some bones had rotting pieces of their flesh barley clutching to their bones. Beneath these bones was a great multitude of yellow eye's watching him as he looks towards it. The device did distract the eyes and their unforgiving sight away from Schmidt, but it was still too much for him. So, he panicked and quickly rushed out of the water. He quickly pulls himself from the water and toward the rocks he was hiding earlier, without caring that he was making sounds.

"What in god's name was that?" He hushes to himself as he tries to correlate what he saw.

However, it seems his brain could not or possible would not comprehend what he just witnessed. As he takes in deep shuddering breaths, he can hear the shouts and screams of someone young. To get his mind off what he saw he looks over the rocks to see that the person on the stone slab was awake. The stone plate she was carried on was being pushed up into an upright position, revealing she was a young blonde woman. Getting a better look, Schmidt recognized her as the blonde in the photo. Her arms were chained and she was naked as she screams out bloody murder at the Klan members.

"Where am I?! Who are all of you?! Where is my Sister you silent lunatics! If you so much as touch her, my girlfriend, any of my friends, or my hair I swear to Monty almighty, I will beat your stupid sea mask in till they become your ugly faces!" She shouts out while struggling to remove herself from her restrains with one hand.

The Klan members ignored her as they kept on chanting, over and over again. As they chant the cave starts to shake violently. What follows, Schmidt couldn't fully put what he witnesses into words as a huge tentacle of unknown origin branches from the cave lagoon. The chanting of the Klan's members became louder and louder. As the young female begins berating and shouting the men as smaller tentacles with multiple metallic spikes popped out and slowly made its way to her. The main one branches forward and slowly opens to reveal a large assortment of teeth.

This had to stop and Schmidt knew this, for the first time in his bootlegging career; he had to be the hero in this disturbing derangement of events. As he looks around, he noticed in the pile, an abundance of crates filled with dynamite sticks and Browning auto shotgun. Wasting no time, he grabs the shotgun and a few sticks of dynamite that was all tied together in a bundle. Quickly lighting the one with a short fuse he tossed it overhead. Exploding mid-way in the air, causing the blackened creature to become spook as it pulls back its hideous limbs. This may have spooked it, but now the Klan member knew he was there and had quickly turned around to see him. They quickly pull out sacramental knifes and daggers and rushed forth as their leader watches silently from the behind. During the war Schmidt was use to German charges from No Man's land, only difference was that they were too dumb or too old to dodge. So, he repeatedly fired at the charging cultist. Blasting most in the chest head and arms with ease. It was nice to feel the kickback of a shotgun, but why couldn't Browning add something for the recoil. It would have made this a better gun in his opinion. Still no complaints otherwise, it got the job done.

"Alright, pal. I won't pretend that I'm a saint, but I know this ain't right no matter how you spin it." Schmidt says as he loads a few more shells into the shotgun. "Sides, I think I'm doing the world a favor by offing you and whatever the fuck ugly thing is swimming around down there."

The cultist leader remained quite till he lets out a cruel chuckle. That cruel chuckle turns into a full fit of maddening laughter. Having enough of his laughter Schmidt decides to just end it by blasting him in the face with shotgun. This caused the hooded figure to fall over, presumably dead. Schmidt then walks over to girl who was trying hard to break free. She was interesting to say the least, for one she had ridiculously long blond hair and Lilac eyes. Her right arm was missing from the elbow down, and her assets was pretty big for her age.

"Hey, eyes up her." She snaps as she struggles to get out of the chains.

"Oh, um pardon me, Ms.?" Schmidt asked as he struggles to remove the chains from her right limb.

"Yang, Yang Xiao Long. Now would you mind getting me out of these chains, I'm not into this kinky crap anyways." She answers sarcastically as she tries to remove her chains, gaining a chuckle from Schmidt.

"Heh, no kidding. Hold on little trick I learned from the army." Schmidt said as he presses the shotgun at the chains. One quick blast broke the chain from her missing limb.

"Oh, a soldier? From which kingdom?" Yang asked getting a strange look from Schmidt.

Before he could answer. The Klan's leader who was thought to be dead, had returned and quickly swipes the shotgun away causing the shotgun to fire off as it left Schmidt's hand. Schmidt quickly reaches for his pistol and aims it at the Klan's leaders head. However, the man grabbed him by his neck with his left and grabbed his arm with his right. The right arm was horrifically disfigured from the elbow down. It had traces of bone showing through the rotting skin. Horrific pulsating green ooze that looks like moss was eating away at his skin. His face in full view was equally if even more deformed with the same affliction acting on his hand. It was so hideous that it can drive a mother away in utter discus. He then lifts Schmidt up off his feet with shocking strength, causing him to choke.

"You think a mere stick of powder and lead pellets could take down a Great Old One and his followers?" The Klan's member asked in a multi tone voice as Schmidt struggles to breath. Schmidt begins to fire off his gun randomly, failing to even twist his arm to aim. "It would have been funny if it wasn't pathetic. Now you will die knowing full well your life was completely and totally worthless in the grand scheme of the Cosmos."

As his grip tightens, Schmidt could feel his breath draining and his vision blurring before the hideous Klansman was knocked down with one hell of a left hook. Schmidt fell to the ground coughing and hacking before looking up to see that one of his stray bullets hits the left chain freeing Yang. She reaches down to help pick him up, for a moment he thought her eye color changed from a calm Lilac purple to a vengeful crimson red then back again.

"I told you, touch my friends and you regret it." She shouts at the Klan's member while giving a casual flipped bird at the Klan member.

"(cough, cough) Wait we're friends?" Schmidt asked as he massages his throat.

"Only if you know where my stuff is?" She replies with a cheeky smile.

Schmidt rolled his eyes before motioning that it was probably behind the rocks. She gave a thankful nod before racing towards the rocks to grab something to wear. Meanwhile the head Klan's man slowly picked himself up as he rubbed his disfigured cheek. As he looks over Schmidt had grabbed the shotgun and was already pointing the business end at his face.

"… It doesn't matter." He said while backing up. "For what is a humans life compared to a god."

"Keep telling yourself whatever you want but last I check, bullets still kill. You are a special case where one won't do." Schmidt said while taking aim. Before he could pull the trigger, the head Klan's man lets out one last laugh before taking a step towards the edge of the lagoon.

"Heh heh heh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha aha ha!" He slowly stops laughing before looking Schmidt cold in the eye. "We are mere bugs to the old one. I am just servant and it's time for me to complete my duty to my master will."

He then stretches out his arms before leaning back. "You will see, we all will, one way or the other."

With those last haunting words, he falls back into the lagoon and didn't surface. Schmidt watch as a few air bubbles returned to the surface before ceasing. Once it became apparent that he wasn't coming back up, Schmidt pulls a cigarette from his back pocket and tries to light his smoke. As he gets the lighter to catch a huge spiky tentacle emerges from the water with a sudden crash. A loud roar can be heard as they spun wildly in the air. As the ancient and foul-smelling limbs moved around sporadically, Schmidt quickly aims at the limbs. Firing off a few buckshot's and cutting a limb or two cleanly. The creature seemed to grow it back faster than he could cut it off. As he frantically fired off another round the next shot came to a stop with a simple clicking noise.

"Fucken shite!" Schmitt cursed as he drops the shotgun and tries to pull his pistol out.

However, a small tendril with a single glowing eye at the tip wraps around his leg and pulls harshly; Causing him to fall backwards onto the ground. He struggles to kick the beast as the tentacle pulls him without effort to the water. This would have been the end for Schmidt, if it wasn't for the assist of Yang who grabbed him at the last second with her metallic arm.

"Oh, no you don't." She says while struggling to pull Schmitt away from the edge.

She was now wearing an orange tank top with a pair of strange multiple pocketed grey trousers. Even though she puts up a good struggle, the creature refused to let go of Schmidt's leg. So, he quickly reaches for his trench knife and slashes at the creature's tough outer skin. After his fourth slash the tentacle lets go and submerges back under the water.

"Well I think you made it mad." She said sarcastically before helping Schmidt. The two didn't want to take any chances, so they head toward the stairs to exit the accursed cavern.

"Well it shouldn't had started something it couldn't finish." Schmidt replies before grabbing a few wrapped sticks of dynamite and struggles to light the thing.

"Well that and maybe I swiped this." Yang remarks as she produces her own light from her metallic hand. In her other she had the glowing gem in the other.

"Heh, well. If he didn't want it stolen, he shouldn't had made it easy for you to swipe." Schmidt chuckles as he grabs the metallic hand and lights the fuse. He then tossed the dynamite bundle haphazardly behind him.

As they race to leave the cave, that unnamed beast returns angrier than before. The tendrils started to branch out and swat randomly around the cave, causing the cave to slowly collapse. They barely reached the claustrophobic stairway when the explosives went off. This not only caused the cave to collapse, but also making the beast to let out a loud ear-piercing screech. Soon the cave begins to collapse down, burying it and almost our two-unfortunate protagonist in the process. They barely escaped the tunnels and had reached the little voodoo shop as the basement begins to flood. They didn't stop running till they were outside the shop, which turned out to be a mistake. While down there, the flood had gotten much worse. Soon a nearby makeshift dam came crashing down and a powerful rush of water pushed down the streets. It just made it to the shop to catch the two in its aquatic grasp.

They struggle to stay afloat with the spent energy they had. Luckily, they managed to grab ahold of a floating door as the flood carried them through to city streets. Schmidt held onto Yang to make sure they wouldn't separate as the flood became rapids. That's when Yangs eyes widen in fear, before giving a blood curdling screaming at something behind him. As the water shifts the door around, Schmidt was now facing what Yang had saw. At first there was nothing but water, Yang kept on screaming words that sound completely gibberish to him. That's when lighting flash revealed an outline of a giant slug like creature with multiple spikes peeking out of its back under the water. It was moving in the water at awesome speed, and it was right behind them. Schmidt felt multiple chills racing up and down his spine as another flash reveals a better outline of its body. Looking up at them with multiple piercing yellow eyes. In that moment the world went black for him as the mere sight was beyond his understanding and would have drove him mad otherwise.

The scene turns to black before returning upon a shore line on the banks of the Missippie river. Schmidt lays their unconscious for a spell before stirring. His eyes slowly blinked to life as he struggles to pick himself up. His memory was a blank for all of a second before realizing the horrible night before. He was about to call out to Yang when he spots her facing down in the beach side.

"Yang!" Schmidt said in a raspy voice as he quickly crawls towards her. He then pulls her to face him, to his horror she wasn't breathing. So, he quickly applied his basic medical military training to use and started preforming CPR. After pushing on her chest and blowing air through her mouth.

"Come on, don't yah die on me." He said as he hastens his pace till finally, she spits water out and starts to cough to his relief.

"Oh, thank god, thought I lost yah." Schmidt said as he leans back letting her have some air. She finally pulls herself up and looks around dazed and confused by her surroundings. "Hey, are you alright kid?"

She continues to ignore him as she looked around completely confused till, she noticed her right metallic arm. She then looks up at Schmidt and asked him something that brought a sickening horror down upon him. "Um, excuse me but who are you, and more importantly… who am I?" As she looks around, she then noticed that still clutching in her hands was the same gem in her hand from last night. It was still glowing an ungodly yellow.

A week later Hammond Louisiana Train station

The storm caused major damage, but this city survived worse. Well, human related worse. Still as people slowly returned back to their homes, a few well-dressed men exited the train that pulled in from Chicago. They were all part of the south side gang, and took orders solely from Capone himself. Hearing that his best Bootlegger wasn't in town he considered setting up a hit on him in case he became a rat. However, he had just received a telegram from him, asking for a few guys to pick him up in Hammond Louisiana. So, he sent five of his best enforcers to extract him, no point in losing his best booze runner for taking part of his own war. They all head down the streets till they reached a small apartment on the outskirts of town, next to a road leading to New Orleans. They entered the motel, inside a receptionist was sitting down enjoy her coffee when one of the men rings the bell on the desk.

"Boy's didn't you read them sign, we ain't vacant." She said in annoyed tone as he flips the page over revealing an article on civil rights rally happening in a town over.

"We are not here for rooms." One man said in a gruff Italian accent. This caused the receptionist to lower her paper to acknowledge there present. "Schmidt, is he in?"

"Oh, you're here for him. Room 2A outside to your left." She answers as she turns back to her paper. "Get him and his half Chink whore out with yah as well."

The men looked at each other in confusion about that last part, but put all thoughts on the matter aside. Some were at his wife's funeral and they know how anyone, including their boss would be like after such a tragic loss. This woman could be a person he paid for to try and forget his troubles through her presumed vice. So, they left the receptionist to her paper. As they walked outside, none of them noticed that she just set down her paper and started to make a phone call to a group of unsavory men. Back outside the five made their way down to Schmidt's room. One enforcer with a scar across his face knocked on the door only to find it unlocked. With the door unlocked and an unidentified person in the room, they presumed the worst. They all pulled a mismatch of sawed-off shotguns, pistols, and a single Tommy gun. The fattest of the bunch burst into the room first, only to find it empty. However, there were clear signs of someone living here but they felt like something was definitely off.

"Schmidt, you here? Just tell us so we don't whack the wrong guy." One mobster asked as he approached the bed. It looked like someone was under it. He then nodes to one other mobster who slowly approached the bed before hesitantly ripping the sheets off.

"Um, Vito. What the hell is that?" The mobster asked as he points at the object on the bed. Under the covers was a few pillows but also what looked like a yellow metallic arm.

"Well, It's clearly an arm." Vito remarks as he picks the arm.

"I know that wise guy!" The other mobster shouts in annoyance before grabbing the arm and slapping the back of Vito's head. "I mean why is this here and not Schmidt?!"

"Maybe this is a message." Another Mobster replies as he walks out of the bathroom.

"Yeah like what Vinnie, he's sleeping with the arm scraps?" The Mobster berates as he flicks the arm at him.

"Sheash, I was just thinking. Don't toss a cannoli like that, Georgi." Vinnie remarks as he holsters his gun. "I mean what else could it be other than a message."

"Yeah I'm sure it belongs to the metallic family and they killed Schmidt and sucked his brains out to create the most potent booze." Georgi said mockingly before tossing the arm to the side. This cause the arm to start to buzz, freaking the mobster to freak out a bit.

"What in the hell." The youngest mobster remarks as he points his double barrel at the arm.

The mobsters watched in curiosity as the arm buzzing at a steady vibration. As they slowly approach the arm, they failed to notice some blonde broad lowering herself from the ceiling. She first pulled the fat mobster with the tommy gun down before choking him out. She then quickly kicked Vito out of the window without the rest noticing as the Vinnie picks up the arm and inspects it closely.

"What in the hell is this thing." Vinnie asked as he turns around only to be greeted by a hard-left hook that sent him crashing into the wall.

"Holy shit Vinnie!" The young Mobster shouts as he got a good look at the attacker. She had long blonde hair, Lilac eyes, wearing a strange orange tank top and even stranger grey pants with multiple pockets. What caught his attention was her missing right arm, then the size of her rack.

That was a huge mistake because the moment his eyes turned downwards; she already kicked the gun up into the air before sucker punching him in the face. Causing him to do a triple backflip, landing on his back. Georgi was about to pull his pistol, but was elbowed in the face causing him to be stunned long enough to allow the young mobster sawed-off double barrel to fall back down and land in her hand. Georgi eye's goes wide as he looked down the business end of the double barrel. Before the mysterious blonde could even fire, Vinnie came in and try to tackle her; but just knocked the gun out of her hand instead.

"Oh, you are so dead lady!" Vinnie shouts as he tries to smack her downwards with the vibrating arm. Instead she raises her right and the two connected. Vinnie was stunned for a moment before she gave a small smirk and a wink. Using her now attached arm, she quickly grabbed his arm with her left and sent a right hook so hard it made Vinnie bounce off the walls like a pinball machine.

"Really now, you want to try that again?" She asked sarcastically with a smirk. She was cut off when Georgi tried to slash at the back of her head with a switch blade. She stumbles forward in pain before noticing that she just lost a bit of hair.

"Yeah well I want to give a stab at it p…" He couldn't even finish his sentence. The Young women that they just fought had turned around with now blazing red eyes of anger. Suffice to say this mobster knew he just fucked up. "Oh, shit."

The women tackle him to the ground outside the view of the reader and begins to wail on the poor man. He screams in agony as the young women was beating him to a bloody pulp, with blood and teeth flying into the view. As she does so Vinnie crawls towards the young mobster, painfully. Next to him the youngest Mobster was choking on a molar shard.

"Ugh, Vinnie. Should we help Georgi?" The young mobster asked as he spits molar shards out.

"Ow, if you want to, by all means go ahead. As for me, I think I'll let her take her time with him. Bastard ate my Cannoli." Vinnie replies as he rolls over in defeat and pain.

"Yeah heh, ow. You know, you are totally addicted to them." The young Mobster remarks. As he struggles to stand.

"Yeah, well bite me. I will kill anyone for a single Cannoli." Vinnie responds as he reaches inside his trench coat and pulls a half-eaten Cannoli. As he takes a bite in walks another person. Vinnie and the young mobster looked up to see the stranger was Schmidt holding a bag of clothes and a bag of food.

"Oh, hey Schmidt." Vinnie responds as he scarfs down the Cannoli. "Question, WHO THE FUCK IS SHE?!"

"The girl?" Schmidt asked.

"No, the brunet one arm girl with a red robo-arm who beat us to a pulp who left just five minutes ago. WHO FUCKING ELSE COULD HAVE!?" Joe cuts in.

"Sheash, did Georgi ate your cannoli again?" Schmidt asked rhetorically before placing the groceries down on the table. Looking up he can see the collective mobsters groaning in pain. "Oy, Yang knock that off, they are the business associates I was telling you about."

Yang turned around and stared at him with crimson red eyes of anger, but looking up at Schmidt's face made her calm down and her eyes returned to a lilac color. She then got off Georgi whose face was nearly pulverized. Once off, Schmidt looked around at the carnage as the mobster started to collectively picked themselves up.

"Is everyone alright?" Schmidt asked only to get a collective groan from all of them.

"Ugh, the hell is that broad you brought with you?" Vito asked painfully as he crawls back through the window. "I have yet to see anyone take down Joe with one punch."

"Ugh, especially a busty blonde." Joe remarks as he massages his neck. This made Yang's eyes flair up for a moment before Schmidt stepped in.

"Unless you want to pulverize like Georgi, I would watch what you say to the dame. She has a worse temper then my late wife." Schmidt remarks as he helps Joe up. Once he was on his feet Schmidt took a seat on a nearby chair before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. As he enjoyed the fumes from the cigarette, he noticed how all the mobsters were now eying him. All wanting an explanation.

"(Exhale) Right so I'm guessing you want to know where I dig her up." Schmidt asked rhetorically as he exhales the smoke.

"Yeah, girl broke Georgi's nose in three different places." Vito remarks as he points to the unconscious Georgi.

"But more importantly she nearly crushed my Cannoli!" Vinnie cuts in. "So please aluminate on why we shouldn't mess her up."

"Well for starters, she just took you five down down single handed, unarmed. That and I owe her. So, she's off limits till she breaks more sincere rules." Schmidt pointed out.

"Yeah, well it's easy to sneak behind a man, break a rib with a single punch and possible gave me a concussion. Try doing that when I'm looking at her with a good old tommy gun in hand." Vinnie cursed under his breath. Yang was just about to show him what she can do, if they see her coming. However Schmidt puts out his hand and shook his head.

"I wouldn't recommend that." Schmidt states. "I've seen her send ten guys to the hospital for touching her hair."

"Tsk, whatever." Vinnie states as he walks over to the bed. "Sides don't know what's so special about hair."

"Clearly you never been to church." Joe remarks as remembers tales from the old testament. "Still I got to ask, where the hell you'd pick the kid up?"

"That… well… (Sigh)" Schmidt lets out a sigh before looking up at the four. "Look, there is no way to say it. I quite honestly don't know how to explain it. But unless I have been living under a rock then New Orleans has possible the worlds worst slug infestation."

"Slug what now?" The young mobster asked.

"Well, on my way out of the city I stopped by what I thought was their hideout. When I found their secret lair, I found Yang here. Seems they aren't so keen on the puritan religion as well. Cause what they were doing ain't exactly Christian." Schmidt states before pausing to take a drag from his cigarette. "I honestly don't know what I witness. One… really ugly ass slug the size of twenty German A7V Sturmpanzerwagen. Maybe even more… but I do know, it was definitely not something sane."

"Sorry, you said a huge ass slug?" Vinnie asked picturing a slug the size of a rat.

"Yeah, well it looked like a slug but also at the same time, it wasn't." Schmidt said as he exhales smoke. The four looked at one another. What Schmidt is saying sounds completely made up, however they can see his hand his shaking and he seems to be rattled by merely mentioning that abomination. They decided to keep quiet about this, but will be keeping tabs on him. He hasn't been the same since the death of his wife.

"Anyways, those Klan's men. The one that killed my wife. Well they were trying to sacrifice Ms. Xiao Long here to it, fortunate for her I was there. Still we barely got out of there with our lives, before being swept away by the storm. When I awoke she seemed to lose all her memories."

"Ouch, this would have been convenient for me if it was my wife who lost her marbles, especially after New Years that one time." Joe remarks as he rubs his left ear painfully.

"Uh, huh well that's why I stayed a few days down here in these inbred backwoods shit hole. Trying to find out who this dame is." Schmidt explains. "I have yet to figure anything. Far as I know, is that she has some Science Fiction robot arm, a bad temper, a real strong left hook, and her full name is Yang Xiao Long."

"Xiao Long… say doesn't that sound china's?" The Young Mafia member remarks.

"Yeah, she has a chinks last name, defiantly can do that mystical eastern shit as well." Vinnie remarks. "What of it?"

Joe raises his hand to let Vinnie know to shut it. He then turned to the young mafia member, "What are you getting at, kid?"

"Come on Joe stop calling me that I'm eighteen." The young Mafia member snaps in annoyance.

"Marty, the point. What is it?" Vito said trying to get him back on track.

"Oh, right. So, I was thinking, if she has a china man's last name then that means she probably came through customs out west. Maybe she has relatives out near San Francisco Bay area. I know a few guys who could ask around." Marty suggests. The rest of the mobsters thought about it and decided that it wasn't a bad idea.

"Alright, head out that way. Call it your vacation. As soon as you find something, report back to me." Schmidt orders as he place the cigarette into the ash tray.

"What? Ah come on guys, I want to watch that rat Falcone try on those concrete shoes." Marty argues.

"Sorry kid, your idea and you're going." Vinnie remarks as he pat's him on his back before picking up Georgie.

"Aw shit." Marty remarks as he kicks the floor in frustration. As he silently screams in his head Yang approached him before grabbing his hand with her robotic arm. He looked to meet Yangs eyes.

"Thanks, I can't remember anything other than punching. So, thanks, Marty was it?" Yang remarks with a sincere smile.

"Oh, um yeah and no problem." Marty remarks with a sheepish smile before Yang pulls him close and gave a single peck on his cheek.

"Thanks, again." She remarks before walking away and grabbing ahold of the bag filled with clothes and went into the bathroom to change.

"(Whistle) God damn Marty, moving up in the world now. Not every day you get a real beauty to kiss you." Vinnie remarks with a chuckle as he walked out of the door mumbling under his breath. "Granted she kicked our ass's fist."

The six then waited as Yang changes into some new clothes. Marty and Vinnie left the small room and sat down on the porch waiting for her to finish. As they waited a few pickup trucks pulled up with a few hooded figures in the back. All were armed with shotguns and a few pistols.

"O'y yeah you. Look who we have out here in the nicks of our home." One of the hooded men said as he steps out of the back of the car.

"Yeah, looks like we have ourselves some Greasy pasta munching Dago." Another Klan's man remarks.

"Yeah real cute, guess Halloween came early. Seems we have a few spineless twerps dressed as ghost stopping by." Vinnie remarks sarcastically as he pulls his pistol out.

"Oh really, guess we have ourselves some grease monkeys from Sicily." Another Klan member said before pointing his double barrel shotgun at Vinnies head.

Marty quickly reaches for his gun but by then the rest of the Klan members had a few guns on them. The two quickly held up their hands in surrender as a few Klan's members stripped them of weapons.

"Look, if you want us to leave your shit hole home then fine. We were just leaving. You can go back to screwing your cousins now." Vinnie remarks sarcastically before being punched in the gut.

"Shut it, we know that nigger lover is in there and we want him!" The first Klan's man said as he grabbed Vinnie by the back of his neck and dragged him over. Marty was then brought over to Vinnie before bringing both gangsters to their knees with a gun to the back of their heads.

"Alright you nigger lover. We know you're in there and we know you have a few friends inside! Come on out now before we blow these greasy Italian brains all over the pavement!" A Klan's man shouts as he fires upward into the air. There was no response. Not even a creek towards the door. Seeing this the Klan members slowly become unnerved and impatient.

"Fine then, would have preferred a filthy nigger, but I guess I'll take this Sicilian Guido instead." The Klan member then raised his double Barrel to Marty's head. As he presses the cold barrel against Marty's temple as he was preparing to off the young gangster. As he does so Vinnie tries to stop him but a few of the Klan members held him down. Marty saw his eyes flash before him as he stared down the barrel of the shotgun. In those final moments he reflected on his life before his left hearing was destroyed when the shotgun moved to the left of him, hitting a Klan in the leg.

Marty had to blink a few times as his hearing slowly returned. In his dazed state he noticed that the reason why the shotgun missed was because Yangs robotic arm somehow shot out of the room and pushed the gun to the side.

"What in Sam-hell?" The Klan's mand asked as he looked down at the shotgun.

"Ahhh, ugh. Larry you sack of shit, ugh you shot me!" The Klan's man replies as he held his leg in pain as blood spurted out.

"Well, it ain't my fault. Nigger lover has some kind of robotic abomina… BOOOM!" He couldn't even finish his sentence as the hand open up with two barrels.

Out shot two pistol rounds that killed two Klan's men. After they fell to the ground, Vinnie quickly tackled the stunned Marty to the ground before Joe, Vito, and Schmidt open fire upon the remaining Klansman. They were torn to pieces from handguns, shotgun, and submachinegun fire. Once done they were left in a bloody mess on the ground. Marty quickly got Vinnie off him to see Yang wearing a different attire and holding a smoking golden gauntlet in her left hand. She was sporting a pair of noir dress pants held up by a pair of brown suspenders. She had the pants tucked into her brown boots. She still kept her orange tank top under a white button up shirt that was button up to the last two buttons. Her right sleeve was rolled up to reveal her mechanical stump that had a purple bandana wrapped around her arm. Atop her head to complete her new clothes was an autumn brown Flat Cap to make it harder for people to recognize her. Hiding underneath her shirt was the same rock that she had stolen. Wrapped in twin as a makeshift necklace.

"Woah." Marty replies with a dumbstruck look upon his face. He continues to stare at Yang as she retrieves her arm and inserts it back into place. Once done she quickly places on a black leather glove. For Marty it was so enchanting that he failed to here Joe calling him.

"Hey, kid. Eyes on the prize not the girl!" Joe said as he helped Marty up.

"Eh, what?" Marty asked as he blinked a few times.

"Cops! Didn't you hear those siren you schmucks!" Vinnie replies as he quickly grabbed his gun and hand it to Marty. Marty now paying attention heard the sirens ringing out in the distance.

"Oh, Shit. Schmidt what do we do?" Marty asked as he shakes his head clear of his thoughts on Yang.

"What do you think? Split up and don't get pinch. Rendezvous at the train station." Schmidt said as he tosses Yang her Brown coat. As she quickly places on her coat just as the cop arrived. As they got out of the car Schmidt and Joe quickly laid down some covering fire sending the deputies behind their car for cover "Now beat it."

The rest of the mobsters didn't need to be told twice. They quickly scattered in different directions. Vito ran down the road to steal a car. Joe and Schmidt quickly cornered the cops and used them as hostages for the police reinforcements barreling down the road. Vinnie carried Georgi into the marshlands while Yang and Marty head into the dryer part of the swamp. As they ran a faint banjo plays as the screen raises up above the toward the sky as the Banjo quickly turned into a song.

Play Ten Million Slaves


Otis Taylor

Rain and fire crossed that ocean
Another mad man done struck again
Rain and fire crossed that ocean
Another mad man done struck again

Sitting down here fallout shelter
Paint my walls, twice a week
Sitting down here fallout shelter
Think about the slaves, long time ago

Ten million slaves crossed that Ocean
They had shackles on their Legs
Ten million slaves crossed that Ocean
They had shackles on their Legs

Don't know where, where they're going
Don't know where, where they've been
Don't know where, where they're going
Don't know where, where they've been

Sun goes out, you'll be standing
You'll be standing by yourself
Sun goes out, you'll be standing
You'll be standing by yourself

Ten million slaves crossed that Ocean
They had shackles on their legs
Ten million slaves crossed that Ocean
They had shackles on their legs

Don't know where, where they're going
Don't know where, where they've been
Don't know where, where they're going
Don't know where, where they've been

Ten million slaves crossed that ocean
They had shackles on their legs
Food goes bad, food looks Rancid
But they ate it anyway

Don't know where, where they're going
Don't know where, where they've been
Don't know where, where they're going
Don't know where, where they've been

Sun goes out, you'll be standing
You'll be standing all alone
Sun goes out, you'll be standing
You'll be standing all alone
All alone, all alone, all alone, all alone, all alone