I tracked the bastard here, it wasn't easy. For the new guy in town no one seemed to notice his face. But he's here, or at least was last night. My skin crawls with anticipation, I take a breath to steady my nerves and walk to the rundown warehouse. I've been on the mayor to fix this part of town up, keeps "losing the paperwork." I'll fix that when I'm done here.

A few old cars are parked in the street, even a couple personal V-TOLs, probably belonging to the neighborhood dealers. This sector's usually quiet at this hour, lending an eerie feel to the air. I'm not afraid, I have no reason to be, but the nerves tingle anyway the closer I get.

It's dark when I enter. Killers like this like the dark. It smells of death all the way to boiler room where I find her body. Flat on her back and fully clothed, it's never about sex with this one. She has necklace of bruises like all the others. Too late again. No sign of him, though. 

The radio whizzes and buzzes as the clockwork ticks and I call it in. I head upstairs, he always sleeps where he kills. I find it where I expected it. Where is the son of Frank? carved into a crossbeam along the ceiling, Jimmy thinks it's religious. Could be, Frank has come back into style and a lot of youths carry it. None old enough to have kids and the oldest I know is a bachelor waiting to die in a home downtown.

Nothing else is special about the room. I see the where the bedroll pulled up the dust, no bedroll though. It's how I eventually found the place, looked for a traveling man. Heard tell of one, keeps his collar up and brim down. Last seen entering this building last night with a lovely young woman. Why anyone would follow a guy here is beyond me, but drink is common enough here along with some harder stuff. Plenty of ways to lose judgement in this city.

I hear the other marshals arrive and go back down. Jimmy glares when he sees me.

"How on the gods' green earth did you find the body so quickly? She's only been dead a few hours."

"Little bit of luck and a lot perseverance."

"Bullshit."

"Just look her over and tell me what you find."

"Going to find the same damn nothing I always find."

I leave before he gives me anymore lip. Jimmy's a good man, and damn good at his job, he'll turn up something, she's the freshest body we've found. All the rest have been half rotted. Outside Robert's questioning some of the block's locals, but he pulls away from one when he sees me.

"The hell you struttin' about for?"

"We're close," I reply.

"Not close enough for her. You getting a kick out of this?"

"We can mourn the dead when the killings are done."

"And when will that be exactly? Two or three more until you catch him?"

"We always catch the killer, haven't failed in ten years."

"You always catch the killer. You have a way of getting in their heads. How do you do that?"

"Wouldn't know."

"Don't you play that card, I'm sick of hearing it."

"Fine. Anyone else see anything?"

"Nothing. Guy probably took off after doing the deed."

"No, he slept soundly. Made a little place on the second floor."

Jimmy comes out looking even more miserable than before. "Exactly the same as the others, just fresher. She was pinned by the killers body, heavy enough to crush her pelvis, and strangled with bare hands. Strong hands but nothing like the hydraulics in a bot, left fingerprints too."

"The bartender said the man was short and skinny?" Robert chimes. "Could be a bot with the grip tuned down, to give the impression of a man."

"And gloves with prints," Jimmy adds. "Not the craziest theory we've gone on. But bots don't kill people, unless they've been tampered with and what fool would let loose that kind of power?"

"Bots don't sleep." I sometimes need to point out the obvious to get them back on track. "He stays the night everywhere he kills."

"Her name's Rebecca Miles. A 22 year old girl from the farms," Jimmy hands me the girls ID. "I'll head out there tonight and give them the news."

"No," I say, "news like this should be given after a night's rest. I'll go out in the morning. I'm going to get some rest."

"Seriously? When we're this close you're just gonna walk off?" Jimmy can't keep the attitude out of his voice.

"The killer will have already left this sector, nothing more we can do until we know where he's going next."

"Let me guess," Robert says, "you want us to get on it."

"I've been trailing this bastard for over forty hours straight, it's your turn to get something done."

"While you sit around in a whorehouse."

I get close to Robert, looking down at his face, "when you get as close I have, then you may complain when I take a break."

I walk off. Shouldn't have snapped but I'm tired and need the comfort of my favorite lady to straighten myself out.

#

I roll over grumbling. Phyllis is shaking me softly but persistently.

"Wake up, lover." The sweetest voice a man could hope to hear first thing in the morning. I know I need to get up. Instead I wrap my arms around her warm soft mass and rest my head on her breast. Someone stumbles loudly down the hall outside.

"Come on sleepy head. Your train leaves in half an hour." She shakes me some more but I remain stubborn. "Come ooooooon," she gets that cute whine in her voice and I cave. 

"Mornin' beautiful." I rub the sleep from my eyes then take a good long look at her beautiful face before getting up to dress. I grab my pants and pull out my wallet, remove a few hundred mark bills and set them on the dresser.

"Don't think you got your money's worth this time, love." She gets up and saunters her naked, voluptuous self over wrapping her arms around me.

"Did I fall asleep again?"

"The moment you hit the pillow." She gives me a kiss and lets it linger longer than is professionally required. She pulls away and giggles, "You, sir, are in need of a trim."

"I'll shave when I catch the killer." She pulls a fresh shirt and pants out of my drawer and helps me dress. She lets me keep some things here seeing as I stay here often enough.

"If he's still loose, why're you heading out to the farms?"

"Need to see the family, give'em the news in person and ask a few questions."

"You've told all the families, can't someone else take the burden this time?" She buttons my shirt and tucks it in for me.

"I found the body, I need to tell them."

She wraps the tie around my neck and faster than I can blink she has the prettiest knot formed and tightened. "Such a noble heart," she winks. 

I put on my vest making sure the badge is secure. I put my gun belt on and she helps me into my coat. "You're the best, Phyllis." I give her a peck on the cheek and make for the door.

"Shall I keep Thursday open for you?"

"Yeah. I'll still pay if I don't make it." At the door I turn, scratching my beard. "Can we add a shave to the bill?"

"I dunno, it's growing on me." 

I head on down the hall with a fresh spring to my step. A good nights sleep with a pretty lady has that effect on me. I step over a passed out drunk on my down the hall. A few steps further I hear some shouting so I detour down a side hall. Ernest is pounding on a door. A voice from inside, "You don't own me no more, Ernest. Get out before the marshals get here!"

On "here" I slam Ernest's head into the door and he falls on the floor. 

"I got'em, Jillian." 

She opens the door a crack then runs out and kicks Ernest a few times. I let her a moment before putting a stop to it. Ernest grunts and I help him to his feet by his collar and push him towards the lobby.

"How many times you need to be kicked outta here?" He mumbles wordlessly. "This will be the last, right?" More mumbles, vaguely affirming. 

"That rat get in again?" Sue asks as I kick Ernest out.

"Gotta keep that back door locked up, Sue. Otherwise vermin find their way in."

"Thank ya, Marshal." 

"Anytime, Ma'am

"Next visit will be on the house."

"Always appreciated."

Better not miss the train for this.

#

That was the worst. I always feel like crap when it's done, but it needed doing and I'm as good as any. The parents broke down the moment I told them the news. I stayed with them an hour before they regained their composure enough to answer a few questions. Rebecca was an ambitious girl, coming into the city for college and the hopes of starting her own business, like her parents. One thing they kept repeating, she was in love with life. She had an excitement rivaled by few. I know a few of the others. All the other victims' families said the same. The only link. They couldn't be more different otherwise. Four men, seven women. A teacher, a janitor, a taxi driver, a repairman, a sculptor, a racer, a model, a dancer, a pimp, a barber and now a student. 

The morning has almost gone and the train moves painfully slow. On the seat across from me is painted the name Frank. My killer? Or just a fad amongst the vandals. After the third victim I looked through all the history books, no one deserving of such note named Frank. It was a common enough name a century or so ago, plenty of children I'm sure came from them. I feel it's key to this whole thing, but it's all a dead end without more to go on.

The train comes to a stop and I step off. In need of a drink I head to Lily's. A bot walking up the street tilts his hat to me, "Marshal."

"Tinker," I return the gesture but don't slow. "How's life?"

"Alls well."

"Wish I could say the same." I continue on my way and Tinker on its.

They're all programmed pleasant enough but they give me the creeps, acting human and not looking the part.

I get to Lily's and order a whiskey. She's a skinny thing with a pretty face. We exchange some pleasantries and I take my drink to a dark corner. When one needs to think, company, no matter how pretty, is distracting. Three more and nothing falls in place. A stranger comes into town, worshiping someone called Frank, or the son thereof, and killing folk. There's rarely a logic to these kinds but never such randomness. 

Well shit. I'm getting antsy and the whiskey isn't helping. I tip my hat to Lily and head out. Walking the streets will clear my head better than drink. As I stand my skin starts to crawl and I freeze. After a moment it fades and without thinking I run outside. I head one way and the feeling fades some more so turn and run the other. It grows when I reach the corner and frantically I look in every direction, pick one and run some more. 

After fifteen minutes of playing hot/cold with my nerves I am standing in front of a run down apartment complex. I draw my six shot and walk in. My nerves are on fire now and burning more the farther in I get. On the second floor I hear a struggle and kick down the door to 2C. Inside there's a man strangling another, the one underneath barely struggling and failing to move the top one.

I slap the hammer back and pull the trigger six times. Six small holes explode in the strangler along his torso, arm and even one in the head. Blood flies and splatters on the wall. The man turns and looks at me, letting go of his victim. 

Cyborg? In the time for the thought he sprints to me and thrusts his elbow under my sternum, knocking the wind out of me then punches me in the head. His hands don't break, definitely a cyborg. Haven't heard of one in these parts before. It seems surprised as I duck under his next punch, put my body under his pelvis, the weight of him almost crushing me, and flip him onto the floor. By the time he stands back up I have my three-shot drawn. I slap my palm down on the hammer, pull the trigger three times and three slugs the size of my thumb slam into his stomach, chest and head. His gut explodes in a bloody mess. The chest booms like a drum and the head sounds like a knock on wood. 

Before he hits the ground again the stomach is already sealing itself over. Healing like me. The two flaatened rounds get pushed out as the flesh sews shut. I grab my cuffs and hook him to some pipes. A moment later he's looking me in the eye. Anger flashes over his face for a second before looking confused.

"Frank? Thought the fire got you old friend."

"We are not friends. And the name's Marshal."

"You can't have forgotten. It's only been, what,  sixty years?"

"Wouldn't put much stock in my memory. I've got none before twelve years ago."

"Aaaaah. The fire did get you. Didn't think the little buggers could fix a cooking like that."

He starts talking nonsense and I take the moment to call it in.

"What are you, some lawman now?"

"A marshal. And you're under arrest for the killing of twelve people."

He starts laughing, first softly then hysterically. "Marshal Marshal?" He keeps laughing.

"It's the title they gave me, it stuck as my name and there's no point in changing a thing when it sticks."

He laughs another minute then calms a bit. " What do ya mean twelve? I only got eleven."

"This one's dead. I didn't stop you in time."

"NO! He cant be dead!" His entire expression goes from amused to enraged in a heartbeat. "I didn't watch him die. I have to watch them die! I have to look'em in the eye! Bring him back so I can watch!"

I take a few steps back, wondering if the cuff or the pipes will break. I've seen rabid dogs with less anger in them. But, like me, the durable bones don't come with much extra strength. He flails some more then starts weeping. 

"That why you do it? You like to watch them die? That's it?"

"It's the closest I can get." He sobs between breaths, "when the light fades I feel I can join them. It's the closest I can get to dying."

Jimmy, Robert and a few other marshals show up. They enter with their guns drawn.

"This the guy?" Robert asks dumbly.

"What do you think?" Jimmy has the next word. I ignore them, staring at the killer. He's a bloody mess but all his wounds have sewn themselves shut. He continues to sob, eventually looking up. His tears leave clean streaks on his bloody face.

"You guys work with Frank? Think what I've done is bad, you should see some of the stuff he's done. I always envied him, he always had the good ideas. Closest I ever got was imitating him. We were a great team back in the day, weren't we Frank?."

"Man's gone and lost his mind."

"No, Jimmy," I say, "I think he's held onto it too long."

"Who the hell is Frank?" Robert finally asks.

"According to this man, I am." And for the first time I wonder what I was before opening my eyes for the first time.