When Drake finally managed to open his eyes again, what he saw was chaos. Higler was standing up, his clothes ragged and destroyed, blood trickling down his right arm. He had a knife covered in black blood in his left hand, and there was a black, two-headed Ifere dead in front of him. Another of the same species was attacking Lieutenant Carson.

His first thought was to help the lieutenant, but Higler was ahead of him. He dropped the knife, picked up his pistol, and shot the Ifere. It was so focused on it's prey that it didn't use Incorporeal.

Drake wanted to say something to Higler, but before he could, another loud roar resounded. He also recognized Frainer's calls, which prompted him to turn around.

His partner had used Nightmare Clouds to confuse two of Anderson's lackeys, and was using Telekinesis to rip the guns of their hands. But what caught everyone's attention was a giant Ifere in the middle of the street.

It was an enlarged version of Warkin. While the lizard-like Ifere was just about twenty centimeters long before, now it was over five meters. It's once cute expression was now fearsome, and his entire body was surrounded by a red halo. Luckily, it managed to contain itself from spewing flames, otherwise it would have burned the whole city to the ground.

Still, Warkin was like a lethal war machine. His coiled tail extended swiftly, sweeping across three of the hooligans. They flew five or six meters before crashing into the wall of a building, and causing cracks on it. None of them got up.

Anderson and Montez were rooted to their spots, staring at the chaos unfold. While the black man seemed shocked, Montez was looking at the two Iferes Higler had killed with a black look on his face. It didn't take a genius to deduce they were his companions.

"Warkin, that's enough!"

The Ifere stopped just as it was about to bite - and possibly swallow - one of the criminals, Higler stopped him. Ignoring everything else, the ranger walked towards it. All of the Association's hired guns were dead, wounded, or running away, so no one shot him.

"Calm down, Warkin... That's it... Good, good! You can sleep now, I got this."

The Ifere slowly stopped shining, and started shrinking until it was back to normal. Higler picked it up - it was already unconscious - and put him inside his shirt.

Then, he looked at Drake with a dark light in his eyes, which sent chills down his spine. He was angry. Really angry. Not at him, obviously, but it was still scary.

"Frainer, come here. You did great too."

"Tututu..."

"Yeah, you saved me. Now, just wait while we deal with those two."

Drake made a quick headcount of the enemies. At least seven were dead, plus the three that Warkin had knocked out, their condition still unsure. He also saw two of them leaving a building, and trying to scurry away. Neither he nor Higler bothered with them. Like the ranger once said, them, as well as the other five or six who had run away, were small fry. Their real target were the two standing in the middle of the street.

Anderson and Montez were waiting for them. They had stopped firing, knowing that they had already lost. But their eyes told them that they wouldn't give up. Especially Montez, who was looking at Higler with pure hatred.

"You killed them... My Dooms."

"It was me or them, Montez, and I won."

"Grr... I will kill you!"

Higler looked at him nonchalantly, and nodded slightly. Then, he turned to Drake, who was standing besides him.

"Montez is mine, Anderson yours. Let's settle this once and for all, Anderson."

"You destroyed everything I built, ranger. I will kill him first, and then end you. Slowly."

The four men stared at each other, their hands ready to draw their pistols out of their holsters. Drake was focused on Anderson. Sweat trickled down his face, and onto the ground. Behind him, he heard the noise of people talking, but none dared to interfere. This was between them.

All of the sudden, Anderson moved, mimicked by the other three. Four shots hang out, and then the street fell silent again.

With a dull 'thud', Montez fell down. Anderson followed suit, dropping to his knees and looking at the hole in his chest, oozing blood. He had a faint smile on his lips.

"Damn... It..."

After muttering that, he fell sideways, his eyes open. Drake took a deep breath, and hissed in pain. His left shoulder was burning, a testament that Anderson was faster than him, at the cost of his aim. Higler had managed to hit Montez first, and the criminal's bullet had hit the ground.

It had been close. If it wasn't for Warkin causing panic amongst the outlaws, things would have ended a lot differently. It was also a lot faster than Drake had expected. He thought it would take days of investigation and... Well, he wasn't sure of what he thought, but it certainly wasn't a full-on battle in the middle of the city.

It didn't matter. They were alive, and Anderson, Cramer, and Montez were dead, while Chief Jones was in prison. Miss Lauren and Bartow were still an incognita, but it was safe to say that the Association of Riverplate was no more.

Drake scratched Frainer, making the little ball of mist purr in satisfaction. It was so young, yet it had done so much.

"I don't know about you, kid, but I need a drink. Do you think River's Oasis is open tonight?"

"Hahaha..."

-------------------------

Half an hour later, Drake and Higler sat on the counter of Angel's Nightclub, with a bottle of alcohol between them. River's Oasis was closed, unfortunately, due to the tragic death of it's owner.

Both of them had their wounds wrapped in white bandages, although they were still wearing the same ragged clothes. A medic had treated the injuries, and his Arton companion had healed it using Light Curtain. Drake was lucky the bullet had passed through his shoulder without hitting the bone, but the pain made it hard for him to consider himself lucky. Because it hurt like hell.

"Miss Lauren, Bartow, we convinced Carson to let you off this time, due to the evidence you presented against Anderson and the others. Not that they will need it. However, if I pass by here again, and discover you are back at the wrong side of the law, you are going to regret being born, got it?"

The two of them, who were sitting together across from Drake and Higler, nodded. They didn't dare to say anything after the massacre the two had caused mere minutes ago.

"All righty then. Thanks for the drink."

He got up, and tipped his hat at them. Drake scoffed, and followed the ranger out of the building. He wasn't quite happy with leaving them off the hook, but he wouldn't discuss it.

"Hey, Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"How is Warkin?"

"He will be okay. The little thing saw me in danger and used Energy Injection. He will probably sleep for another two days. It's very taxing on him."

The ranger smiled fondly, and caressed the sleeping Ifere. Drake grinned too, and looked at Frainer, who was happily floating around. That's what a Spirit Contract was about. Doing everything in their power to help their partner.

--------------------------

The next day, they were mounting their Yscalents in front of the police station. The building was riddled by bullet holes. Lieutenant Carson - or Chief Carson, now - was frowning as he looked at them.

"You two are worse than a hurricane, you know?"

"Hahaha! I think you should keep the holes. They are like scars, to show you aren't afraid of fighting for your city."

Higler winked at Drake, who had gained his first scar yesterday. Probably the first of many. Meanwhile, the cop sighed.

"Maybe we will. I would say I hope to see you soon, but I really don't, ranger. I have the feeling it would mean another massacre in my streets."

"Ouch. That hurts."

"Haha... He isn't wrong, Drake. I did tell you that trouble follows me, didn't I? Well, I will see what I can do, Ted. But if you ever need, call us."

"Of course. Good luck, and may the Mystic Iferes watch over you. They know you need it."

Saying goodbye to him, the two of them rode away from the city. They would pass by Box O Farm to tell Daniel his problems were over, and, after that, they would jump on the road again. Rangers were vagrants, after all. They traveled from trouble to trouble, helping the innocent, and punishing the guilty.