McBison walked into the parking lot next to the shed that led to his office, heading for his car since, unlike the coffee shop he frequented, where he was going was not a comfortable walk from the office. As he got closer, he pushed a button on his keychain, and the lights lit up on a black RAV4 with red highlights. Most bounty hunters went for low profile, but McBison had given that up a long time ago after he figured out anytime he went to get someone it was going to be chaos. So, he figured he might as well enjoy what he was driving.

He headed for the next town over, aiming for the old Denny’s there since it had been turned into a medical blood dispensary for Vampires willing to be law-abiding. McBison knew Morgana’s brother was no saint, but he was no blood dealing kingpin like he was being painted to be by the guy running the dispensary. It was only after the blood that Morgana’s brother was caught selling was traced back to that guy that her brother was painted in that light.

McBison had seen the scheme before, and it didn’t impress him back then either. He knew as the streets passed by that he would be walking a line at the very least, though he was pretty sure he was going to have to cross it. Admittedly, he knew it before he even left the office, and he had looked at it from every angle possible. The district attorney wanted a quick victory to keep the system looking clean, but in reality, she was keeping the system broken.

McBison was not surprised, though, since it had always taken guys like him to fix things when officials messed them up. He worried if he would stop being an agent for good and start being one of the monsters in the community that he fought against, but he figured as long as he kept worrying about it, it was a good sign.

He sighed, not looking forward to what was coming, as he pulled into the parking lot. He popped the back as he got out and went around to the back of the vehicle. He put on an unlabeled rune engraved vest before reaching for a hand-carved staff made for him by his Native American uncle. He set the staff back, though, knowing he was not there to be diplomatic. The back door made a loud thwackas he closed it before heading for the door, walking in a manner that said nothing would stop him.

He opened the door thinking here goes nothingas he walked in. The security guard went to stop him, and, seeing who he was, just stepped aside, knowing better. The owner of the blood dispensary was behind the counter and started to greet McBison warmly until he saw the look on his face.

Then he started to backtrack, saying shakily, “I’m not one of your bonds. You can’t do anything to me. I have rights!”

“That would be true if I was here on official business. I am here to let you know thatIknow what you did with the Vampire I picked up this morning,” McBison said quietly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, and even if I did there is nothing you can do about it,” the owner replied smugly.

McBison smiled, making the owner turn pale, as he replied, “Officially you are right, but, see, I came here to tell you that you have thirty days to shut down. And then I am never going to hear about you being in the blood dispensary business again. And you are going to leave town before the court hearing for the Vampire I put behind bars today, or I am going to let his clan know what exactly the scam is you ran on him.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” the man replied, shaking.

“Oh, I would. Your scam almost got me killed while having coffee this morning. And I just don’t like people who run scams like yours in what is supposed to be an above-the-board market,” McBison answered.

“Fine, but you are going to regret this,” the owner responded, giving in.

With that, the floor began to rumble as a man towering to the ceiling came out from the back. McBison recognized him as a golem in the image of a miniature giant.

“Think about what you are doing before it is too late,” McBison said without flinching.

The owner just smiled as he ordered the golem to attack. McBison simply sighed. He knew they never learned, but he wished they would at least try.

McBison thrust his palm at the golem, shouting, “Aliquem Facere!” A wave of energy erupted from McBison’s hand, slamming into the golem and exploding it. As it collapsed to the ground, McBison thrust his hand at the rubble and the walls a couple times shouting, “Ignem Facere!”

The rubble burst into flames as the owner ran for his life. McBison grabbed the security guard as he walked out the door, making sure he got out safely. Things hadn’t gone as smoothly as he wanted them to, but the owner was now out of business, as well as hopefully on his way out of town.

McBison offered the security guard a lift, but the guard declined. So, he drove back to the office to retire to a cot upstairs in a rune-engraved vault in the old bank that stood above it. He was exhausted and hoping for a much quieter day tomorrow.

. . . . . .

McBison woke up feeling like he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler, but the feeling wasn’t anything new. As he rolled out of bed, he checked his messages on the computer in his head. He noted one from Morgana mentioning her brother being released from jail after the owner of the blood dispensary was caught leaving town. She also mentioned knowing he had something to do with it since the guy kept saying he confessed, but insisting they keep that crazy bounty hunter wizard away from him. McBison sent back a halo in response.

Maybe today I can have coffee in peace,he thought as he sat down with an iced coffee at his favorite place a little while later. Suddenly, the air burst with fireworks, and he was hit with a massive water balloon spilling his coffee. He looked up to see Morgana smiling at him and give him a wink as if in thanks before vanishing.

McBison had to wonder if she really was much better when not trying to kill him. He chuckled. But he just figured something about him and having coffee was cursed. At least the day was looking up, though he knew he was not inviting any more Vampires to breakfast or even letting them know where he had breakfast. He lit a cigarette and just leaned back, letting the sun dry him off.

The End?

The End?