Jan 10 - 1885
What the fuck just happened? This "Agency" calls all kinds to it's fold. What initially began as simply a new revenue stream has spun my world into a realm of fucked up I previously didn't know existed.
Introduction - Day 1:
I meet up with Bullock and his other recruits at the Busch Tavern. Our test is to seek out the whereabouts of a recently executed posse. Their names escape me, but fuck it. As I'll later describe, those cocksuckers ain't coming back. Bullock's idea is to team the new recruits with a partner of complementing skill sets. I drew a beast of a fucking man named Augustine Kestral, a real stoic son of a bitch. A man of a soft demeanor and high moral fucking fortitude, this one. I admit, at first I thought I drew the short stick. But his outward appearance and bullish nature belie a keen and sharp intellect. His negotiation skills are among the best I've seen. He convinced a man to lower a cocked gun aimed at my back. I don't quite understand it, Gus seems "touched" in some way. As if he understands he has a higher purpose. Oh yeah, and he carries a big fucking sword.
So we head out to look for these cocksuckers, and our trail leads us to a joint called the West End. Apparently the leader of the group used to fucking frequent the place. His piece of pussy he liked the best was a one Miss Kitty. I can see why he liked her. She gave us intel on a silo north of town the posse used as a hideout. This is where things get fucking unnerving.
Gus and I found the posse, alright. Walking and talking like they did before their hangings, but there was no doubt- these were fucking walkers. We engaged them and killed them. Again. Just to make sure they stayed dead and as proof to Bullock of our success we took their heads. We also helped ourselves to anything of worth these boys had and their horses.
The next day we meet with Bullock to discuss our payment. This is where we meet what we soon discover to be the third member of our party. A interesting little fucker, goes by the name of Colonel Reverend Elijah Q. Griddle or something of that nature. Not entirely sure if that is his real name, but considering his line of business I wouldn't be the least bit surprised that he's gone through a few fucking versions of it. He's a slippery little bastard, but we share a common trait. The man knows how to make money.
The long and the short of it, is that he does have a skill set that is very useful and highly intriguing. He works a sort of "magic" for lack of a better word by using cards. Since I already have a certain predilection for games of chance, he agreed to teach me. Now I know a man of this sort doesn't give anything away for free. However I haven't quite fucking figured out his angle.
That night we go back to the West End to show the Col. the town. We both have a great night at the table, and the next morning one of the ill fortunate cocksuckers decides they're gonna try and call me out. Being even tempered and a bit hungover, I do not fall into this dickshit's trap. This pig-fucker then pulls a gun on me while my back is turned. This is when Gus steps in, and with some thought provoking fucking word-smithing, cooler heads prevail. That Gus is something else.
Upon the Col.'s request we do some shopping. Little man is loose with his money. Would not leave before he bought me a new pair of boots and a shirt. Joke's on him though. Hard to look tough in a pair of sheep skin chaps with tassels. At any rate he'll be easy to spot if he every decides to run off. From there we go to a couple estate sales to look for copies of Hoyle's Book of Games. Older copies specifically. Apparently the magic is encoded inside. The older the edition the more magic potential. No luck at the first but we found a full map case that could prove handy. The second one however we hit some luck, and found one a bit older than his current copy. I look forward to working with him to decode.
That's about it for now. It seems that working with this agency may prove beneficial.
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