Iron Wasteland

Chapter 16

"Think this'll work?" Providence asked as she slipped another paper into the mail slot.

"Absolutely. This place is like a powder keg, doing this will help us control the detonation." Irons explained, scribbling another invite down.

"'Explosion' sounds about right...what if the suspect pulls a weapon?"

"Makes it easier to find them!" He said cheerily, slipping the invitation into the next slot.

"Once again, your blaise faire attitude toward life astounds me."

The sheriff looked over at her, confusion evident on his face. He rolled the words around on his tongue, repeating it softly under his breath.

"What's that mean?" He finally asked, taking his hat off and squeezing the water out once again.

"It's French, if I remember correctly. It essentially means you're apathetic, or very leisurely go through life. Judging by that look you're giving me, the French aren't around anymore."

He nodded. "I've never heard of them, at least. You'd have to ask a scholar that question, and a scholar I am not! Now, let's keep–"

One of the doors they had inserted an invite into burst open, the resident stepping out. They looked like they were made of stone, with shifting patches of gray rock moving about their body. Fiery red eyes moved from the paper to the duo.

"What's this all about?" They asked in a gravelly voice.

"The end of an investigation, sir! I believe I know who's responsible for the recent amount of thefts! Everyone's invited to a meeting in the town square, where I will out this evildoer in front of everyone!"

"Hm. And you're sure you're right?"

"Never been more confident, sir! Hope to see you there!"

"Hmmm. Hold up."

The stone man stepped up, snapping his fingers. Immediately, the ground around them rippled, and a dozen smaller versions of the man emerged from the ground. They extended a hand toward the duo, grasping at the air.

"Give those invitations to them. I know this town better than you do, I'd guess, so this should make it easier."

"Ah, thanks!" The sheriff said, happily handing over the papers.

Each mini-stone man saluted, then marched off into the rain, keeping the paper under their arms. More would pop up, and eventually Irons and Providence were struggling to get the papers into their hands fast enough. When the crowd finally dispersed, Irons was once again soaked through to the bone, his previously acquired stack of papers luckily gone and not soaked. The sheriff briefly engulfed himself in flames, flash-drying his outfit.

"Thanks again for the help, sir!" Irons said, turning towards the man. "Don't think I got your name."

The rock man smiled, exposing glittering teeth. "Name's Paul. Paul Rockson. Yes, I know it's ironic."

"Rockson...that sounds familiar." Providence said, rubbing a finger to her chin.

Irons stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You what? I know of 'em cause there was a big incident a few months ago with a cave-in."

She snapped her fingers. "Yeah, Rockson mining company. It was famous back in my time."

"Oh, you know of it? Used to be big, not so much anymore." the man explained. "The underground's dangerous. Mining's become this whole operation that's less 'breaking stones' and more 'killing things'. Not my style. Plus, I didn't like the way the new corporate heads were running the place. So, I took my stock, sold out, and got the hell outta dodge."