The Further Adventures of Mssr Edward Shaw

Having satisfied the demands of the Heroic Code Book on leaving the scene of a victory with a nonchalance you only get through simply not giving a damn, and the slightest air of boredom with the situation, Edward then doubled back and began to search the little shack for any clues. The sun had set, he'd rode off into it, well walked anyway, but now it was time to get back to work and resist the ever tempting call of a well placed cliché. The place wasn't much to look at, and it didn't seem to improve when Edward closed his eyes, the stench was building as the corpse festered. He had to get rid of that body. Several options came t his mind, unfortunately he didn't put them there.

His deck of cards was insisting on another Soul Blast hex, take the body outside and blast it to pieces. This might have had some merit if it hadn't been for the fact that the invisible demon fairy on his shoulder agreed with the cards, in that malicious tone of thought of hers, and anything the invisible demon fairy on his shoulder thought was a good idea, he liked to avoid. The old stove was suggesting that he cook the body, after all, even heroes need to eat. Edward liked the stove least of all. Not just because it was trying to persuade him to give cannibalism a go, but also because it was intruding. The invisible demon fairy on his shoulder and the deck of cards had been talking to him for a long time now, in fact the invisible demon fairy on his shoulder even had a name; Tinkerhell. The cards were called 'Cards', because even Edward felt a bit silly about naming a deck of cards. Whereas talking to them was perfectly acceptable and as healthy as a good constitutional stroll. The stove however was new, it wasn't part of the group. The sheer audacity it displayed in speaking to him, uninvited as well, made Edward really quite cross. He took a blanket and draped it over the black metal, which at least muffled it, and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Situation," he said to the empty cabin. "Small cabin, one dead big bastard and one demonic stove" his voice had risen, growing more rapid as he mentioned the stove, kicking out at it as it tried to shout over him through the blanket. The instant his foot connected he knew it was a bad idea, but he was determined not to let it see him hop around in pain, although he could swear that it was snickering underneath that cloth.

"Calm down Eddy boy, it's just a stove, stoves can't talk, they cook."

"Want to bet darling?!" Tinkerhell's seductive voice rippled through his mind, even though she was small, her voice was most certainly not.

"Would you shut up? Now is not the time. I have to think, work this out. Was this big bugger sent by Epsilon or another member of the 'Eddy Is Great Association'? He knew who I was, he knew I'm Agency, and it's not like I'm wearing the club stetson or anything. " Edward poked at the skull on the shelf leaning against a tin cooking pot, ignoring certain comments about the convenience of it all from a muffled iron voice. "Who sent you eh? Why are you here? Or why were you rather?"

"You're not actually…" Was all Tinkerhell could purr before Edward cut her off.

"No I'm not actually expecting him to answer, he's dead! And in this state, he's going to stay that way." He gestured to the fact that the corpse was without its head. Walking dead required the brain to still be mostly intact, and usually connected to the rest of the body in order to qualify for the term 'walking dead'. As it was, the Mexican could really only enter the 'dead' category. [ Continue ]

written by Paul Guess