The Marshal grabbed a good handful of the man's hair and jerked his head back. She unsheathed her knife and held it at the edge of his eye.

"Let me be very clear about what will happen. I will begin at the top of your head and work my way down. I need your tongue intact so I won't touch your mouth, and I need at least part of one ear so that you can hear me. Other than that, it's open season for me. I will start with you eyes, and pick them apart bit by bit, but only after I've taken off your nose, layer by layer. Ears are nice and sensitive, and you only need part of one to hear me. I know your employers trained you to be resistant to pain, but there is nothing that can train you to withstand me. And even if you could, by the time I'm done with you, the swelling in your brain will have gotten to such a point that you won't be able to tell between hallucinations and reality and you will tell me everything I want to know. Now, one more time. Tell me your name."

"That is my name," he spat. "My pop was a Union soldier and met the President. Never got over it."

"Alright, Abe, we'll see how honest you can be," she said, not releasing her grip on his hair but lower her knife just out of sight. "Who do you work for?"

"Char... Thats not even funny." Jedd commented as the Marshal left their apartment.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Charlotte said. "You're right, it's not."

Truth was, the thought of someone getting tortured bothered her too. She knew that it just came with the territory of being sheriff, but that didn't make it easy or nice. Making jokes helped it feel a little less serious. Jedd seemed to see it differently.

The Marshal's boot steps clomped against the steps, which brought Charlotte back to the present, and her many questions. She put her hands on the back of a chair and gripped the back of it, pressing her lips together. She turned to Jedd. "Look, what is going on? I just want a straight answer here. Just tell me."

"Who do you think? There's only one batch of bandits bunched up around your town. What, did you think you'd missed one?"

Caldwell rolled his eyes and yelled across the room," Take it from me, don't be sassin' the Marshal when she has a knife to your squishy bits."

"Caldwell, your lips are in danger of a needle and some thread, without any drugs attached," the Marshal said, not bothering to vary her pitch. "So you work for Meyer, eh? Or rather, whoever sits in Meyer's seat now."

"Yeah. Though Meyer isn't inclined to give orders. You did that, I heard."

A look of confusion anger and perhaps the slightest bit of fear flitted across the Marshal's face before she was able to regain her composure.

"So who are you really working for, then?" she asked, looking down at Abe. "Don't think I didn't see your amulet and the poison. In fact, if I hadn't seen that, you'd still be curled up in your little cell, with nothing more than the headache Caldwell gave you to nurse. You're working for someone from the Triad, aren't you?"

"Triad? What's that supposed to be? Never heard of it before."

"Really? Then you wouldn't mind if I carved the Xiuru into your face after I take your eye out so everyone that sees you would know that you have no affiliation with them."

The assassin flinched at the Marshal's words and visibly paled. The reaction was not lost on Caldwell.

"What's the Shoe Zoo and why would you carve it on his face?" Caldwell asked. "And why would that be worse than losing an eye?"

"It's Chinese. It means dishonor," Abe said, cowed.

"Oh. So you are with that fancy gang with the funny name the Marshal mentioned then? Dang foreigners comin' in and takin' over our honest outlaw trade with fancy brands and stuff," Caldwell said and the hurriedly added. "No offense, Marshal."

"The Marshal didn't tell me much, she doesn't usually spill her guts on important things. So I suppose this must be very important. She's playing her cards close to her chest, but she mentioned something about a triad and wanted me to find out if that fellow was one of them. I didn't have much success. Whatever."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, he'd used alternative methods to get information out of small-time crooks before. But that type typically spilled their guts after the fourth or fifth punch, this man was a professional. And he had Jedd walking around with a guilty pit in his stomach. No man should have that much power over another. Ever.

"I'd better get down there, before the marshal does something stupid." And so he did, turning on his heel and heading down the stairs.

"Huh. Wonder what it could be." She thought about it for a second, then shrugged. "Eh, I've got nothing."

Jedd turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. "I'd better get down there, before the marshal does something stupid."

She raised her eyebrows and practically scrambled towards the door. "I'm coming too."

Jed turned and stared Charlotte down. "That's... Not really such a great idea." And sincerely meant it. He knew that his little sister would probably handle the scene well enough. Better than him, most likely. And that's what troubled him.

"Of course it's a great idea," she said, staring right back at him. Her expression contained intensity equal to his, and yet she still wore the traces of a determined, slightly mischievous smirk. "Sorry, but I'm still coming."