Almost there…
Waking up again wasn’t fun. My back felt like it had gotten three good whacks with a hammer, and the dead Brooder wasn’t smelling any better than she had before I got shot. Oh, and I was in the dark, with busted goggles. Falling face forward like that hadn’t done them any favors.
As I got to my feet, I could hear the clatter as what I figured were bullets rolled off of Bang-Man and onto the cave floor. Good old Bang-Man. The ogres who gave it to me called it a bangmangi, and they said it was good luck. Having three bullets roll themselves around the outside of my body and cling to the club — yeah, I guess it counts. It still stung like a son of a bitch.
Speaking of sons of bitches…