The room feels empty and he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what it?s missing. He sits alone on a small bed with an old mattress with springs sticking out of it. He doesn?t lay beneath the covers or sheets, because they offer what little protection against the rusting bits of metal he can get. The mattress isn?t the problem with the room. A problem, sure, but not the problem. He sits there against a headboard that is just a collection of rusting bars of aluminum or some other cheap alloy. The dresser is really just a wooden cabinet with a single drawer. This room, unlike the others he?s stayed at, has a television. Even for one who knows nothing about television, he can tell the one his room is equipped with is cheap and old. He doubts it works and doesn?t bother to find out.

The lights are incandescent and they make his eyes hurt so he turns them off. There is no bathroom.

But as he tallies up the rooms faults, one by one, on a mental blackboard, Glenn is left wondering. What is this room missing?

He tells himself that he?s just bored and so his mind is making up things to dwell over, which is stupid because he?s got enough on his plate at the moment. He doesn?t need to dream up more things to be bothered by. So he focuses instead on the list of subjects that have been wholly encompassing his day-to-day life. Leo, Brandon, Maida, Madison, Morgan, the Irish, Salome.

Let?s tackle them one at a time.

Leo.

Leo Ortiz will die, there?s no doubt about that. Glenn will find a way, and plans are in motion even as he sits there and dwells on it. He?s waiting for Morgan to get back to him, waiting for this meeting with Morgan?s unknown acquaintance. He was very careful to correct Glenn?s use fo the word ?friend?.

Brandon.

Glenn hadn?t seen Brandon since the first night, apart from in a smattering of uneasy dreams and terrifying nightmares. He sits there now and thinks about where his dead brother has gone off to. It?s an odd thought. He removes his hat and fingers the bullet hole in the crown and frowns at it, remembering where the hole came from and how he got the hat in the first place.

?If you?re still around when this is all over, Brandon, then I promise I will make it up to you.?

His voice startles him in the otherwise quiet room. Prior to hearing it, his ears had been filled with the incessant ringing of complete silence. He smiles at himself. Jumpy.

Maida.

That poor, neglected little girl. He?s been dreaming of her, he?s been waking up in cold sweats and hasn?t been able to fall back asleep. His latest dream was the worst yet. It conjures up memories of drowning and dying and complete powerlessness. He remembers vaguely the way Salome woke him and how he lashed out, how desperately he wanted to claw at her eyes and tear her throat with his teeth. He?s glad she was able to stop him and completely ashamed that she had to in the first place. As much as he hates them, there is something in those dreams. He knows it, and so he wonders when the next will come. Ever since coming back his dreams have been different. They?ve hinted at things to come or given him insight on his battle with the inner darkness of the Douglas blood and Leo. He hates this, too, because he misses the days when his dreams were just simple fantasies or a smattering of fond memories from a childhood that seems like it happened to a completely different person. He misses when dreams were a comfort.

Then he thinks about Madison Rye, the woman for whom he sacrificed it all. There?s regret and resentment and it goes both ways between them and some part of him really does wish things had ended differently. Their chance encounter at the Red Dragon a few nights prior, when Salome was with him, left a bad taste in his mouth. He knows that he jumped too harshly on her and her friend Eli, knows that he was trying to start another fight. Maybe it was all that aggression he hadn?t been able to dish out on Lucien, but he doubts that. He wasn?t prepared for them to meet. But, he?s not sure if he ever would be.

Morgan is a sore spot for him. His friend has gone missing and though Glenn has every ounce of faith in the man, he is still worried. He?s never seen anything like this Augustin, this man who looks like he?s just stepped out of the grave and can make people disappear with a thought. This kind of power is beyond anything Glenn Douglas can understand, but he?s always been a man of simple means. Guns and fists have been more than enough for him. He hopes in the end that this will stay true. If not, he?s not sure how to win this fight.

The Irish are dead or dying. He thinks about the night he slaughtered a score of men at the bar and then Morgan burned it down. Thinks about the stragglers that have been caught and put down in the interim. He knows there are more still out there, but he does not suspect or fear them any longer. Whatever they?re up to, it won?t be enough to slow him down.

Salome.

The thought of the name stirs something in the gunslinger that he?s not familiar or comfortable with, and he?s not ready to address it yet. He?s glad when his phone rings because it means he doesn?t have to face his own inadequacies.

?Hello??

?Glenn??

?Morgan??

?Where are you??

?At a motel. Where the fuck are you??

?The Ugly Piper. We need to talk.?

?You alright??

?Yeah. Hurry up.?

He hears Morgan hang up and sees a notification pop up on his phone. He scrolls past the text messages he has in his inbox, which include a few angry words with Madison and some not so angry ones with Salome. He does his best to ignore the latter messages and finds the latest one sent in by Morgan.

Expect trouble. But come unarmed. He?s watching.

Glenn looks at his gun and then tucks it and the holster into his belt. He replies to the message.

Be there soon.