Futuristic Horseshoes & Ion Grenades

[Solar Daddy]

Chapter One
The Fugitive Baker the Butcher & the Posse of Red Canyon





Location: Ganymede, moon of Jupiter


​

Salvo's head rocked with the inconsistent shuddering of the transport vessel. His one arm was hanging onto a metal pipe barred to the ceiling to stabilize himself. He wasn't sure why anyone would want to program a robot to feel nauseous - seemed like something that could've been patched out of his psyche. Whoever paid to have him made must've wanted Salvo to feel as human as possible, and that included the unsavory feelings and emotions as well. At least he knew the ride to Ganymede wasn't going to take much longer. It was a short hop from the port station Aurelius orbiting Jupiter. He'd been doing a messy cleanup job there, figuring out who exactly decided to turn the governor into pink mist at his speech. Wasn't a pretty scene, nor was it satisfying when he finally caught up to the bastard responsible only to find out the rat threw himself from a cliff to avoid being captured post-gunfight.

Out the porthole to his left, Salvo could see the surface of the natural satellite get closer and closer. Ganymede didn't have enough of an atmosphere to produce planetary entry flames, but still; seeing the craters and strings of dunes stretch across the surface get closer and closer gave Salvo a bit of excitement. Space was cool, and nobody could convince the robot otherwise. His attention to it was taken away, however, when Killroy nudged his arm with a hiss of steam from its orifices. The horse Salvo had chosen years ago, just like him, was programmed to act as real as possible despite its synthetic making. This included enjoying scratches behind Killroy's ear even though he truly couldn't feel it. Salvo obliged the needy steed and took the rest of the down time to pay attention to his companion.

Not ten minutes later, the shuttle was flattening out and slowing speed as it prepared to land. The automated control system stabilized the ship as an announcement played. "Welcome to Ganymede, traveler! Please be sure to wait for the vehicle to make a complete stop before attempting to unload any possessions. And remember, don't interact with any strangers! Have a safe travel, ad we hope you had a wonderful ride with Sampson & Son Shipping Co.!" By the time the AI finished its lecture, Salvo had already taken up Killroy's lead and began to drag the mechanized steed out the now open airlock.

Now embracing the low gravity of Ganymede, Salvo took a quick glance around his vicinity to make sure no hostile groups saw the ship landing and decided to ambush him. Certain he was safe for the time being, Salvo readied Killroy before mounting the steed, resting in the saddle comfortably. Salvo was only a few kilometers from Deadweight where he'd be meeting his next group of deputies-for-hire. He'd done the same setup with the last group; meet up with them at the town that needed governing, establish relations, and get to work. He knew the deputies would either have already arrived or would be at Deadweight soon, so he took his time enjoying the planes of Ganymede while he travelled to the crater town.

Salvo didn't encounter any trouble on the way. He half expected the out of control frontier to be teeming with robbers and looters, but it seemed at least the countryside of Ganymede was somewhat tame, comparatively. Or maybe he was just arriving at a dead time of day. It didn't matter to Salvo, who soon passed the various livestock farms that surrounded Deadweight. Seeing the cattle with their oxygen fixtures made Salvo glad he wasn't human anymore. He couldn't imagine the annoyance of needing another thing to account for to make sure you don't die in space.

Finally, Salvo arrived at the epicenter of the crater, not a particularly large one, where the town was located. It was a depressing scene of grey and brown, with the buildings nearly blending in with the surface due to the dust that covered them. He was hopeful the locals wouldn't be too averse to Salvo's arrival. Not many this side of Mars liked to see the shiny badge pinned to his duster. It was a sign that the far away Systems government was still in charge, despite their isolation begging to differ. To his surprise, though, nobody seemed to pay him any mind. Sure, there weren't a lot of people bustling about, but everyone was focused more on their own tasks than to notice the stranger arriving in their town. Salvo would take any win he could get.

Salvo hitched Killroy to the post outside the saloon near the center of town. He'd planned to meet his deputies inside - not to mention his thirst for some classic datashard; the robot-favorite "drink" of the wild frontier. Once he stepped inside, a few patrons gave glances to Salvo, some lingering longer than others. No one seemed overly bothered with his presence though. He stepped through the chatty main room of the saloon to a large empty table in the back. Giving a nod to the bartender, he was soon picking up the aforementioned datashard from the bar before taking a seat. All he had left to do was wait for his deputies to meet up with him. In the meantime, he'd pop the shard into one of the open ports in his face, leave it for just a moment, then pop it back out. The familiar feel in his wiring was invigorating. Salvo was more grateful than anything for the bastard that came up with the idea of datashards, so that robots could enjoy a numbing substance like a normal man's whiskey. He'd be sure not to overdo the substance, but it was a good way to pass the time while he waited for his deputies.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

C.O.R.E
interaction: Solar Daddy​

a strange sight was seen in the crater town.. well not exactly uncommon for the frontier the ubiquitous big iron.. old law inforcemnt drones usually repurposed for other tasks or stripped for parts. Yet this one seemed to be walking around by itself without a handler. Leading a few people to question this most didn’t care since maybe it was supposed to be a mail carrier or something weird like that. The Big Iron wandered into the saloon the huge contstruct turning heads and its limbs shrunk to let it enter. Walking its way over to salvo, the red optics glowed as a extra set of manipulator arms emerged form the underside of its hull pilling a chair forward the Big iron projected a hologram humanoid figure occasionally flickering and rippling like a old TV. The hologram would take a “seat” the big iron pushing the chair forward for the hologram. “I umm.. err assume your the err new sherif right.. I’m the C.O.R.E but just call me Core…” the voice came form the big iron while the hologram mimicked the lip movement as it spoke in a worried tone.

 

[Kabboom]

Billy sat in the corner of the saloon. He had his feet tucked onto another chair, opposite his own, leaning back in blissful relaxation among a crowd of drunkards and gamblers. Wisdom from his time as a security guy taught him that the safest place in a saloon was in a corner, since you could see what all the other no-gooders were doin' while few of them could see you. Due to his nature, being an associate of a deputy on Ganymede of all places, Billy thought it best to conceal his new law enforcement entanglement for as long as possible; his slick body armor was concealed beneath a beat-up tan overcoat, almost reaching his kneecaps. His little memento from Mars did catch a few eyes when he walked in through the doors, but the mind of the crowd is fickle and forgetful - the only people who remember him now are the ones sitting near him. And even those guys are preoccupied with their own affairs.

For example, the guy to his left was busy getting scammed out of his month's wages. A young buck judging by his clean chin and fledgling mustache, and his naive persistence that he'll win the next round of Terra Hold'em, unaware of the cards in his opponent's sleeve. While the youngster is taking the hard life lesson to his left, the man on his right had his priorities straight. The old lad, visibly distinct as some cushy foreman with a beer belly testing the constitution and make of his belt, was more than content with snoring his nose off with his legs on the table, taking a well-deserved (or not-deserved, who knows) nap in this loud and raucous saloon. His ears, a veteran of a thousand yelling matches, had no issue warding off the pitiful protests of the young buck as he lost yet again, or the monstrous burp of the habitual drunkard 3 tables away, or the creaking of the age-old floorboards beneath Billy's boots as he made his way to his new target.

Truthfully speaking, bounty hunting was a new prospect for Billiam. The man had barely an idea of what he was supposed to do beyond killing no-gooders, or where he'd need to be. Hell, he almost missed this place entirely! When he first arrived, he gave this town the title of Rude City, on account of everyone calling him dead weight whenever he asked for the name of the place; he was sick of it up to the neck 'til he saw a sign and realized that was the name of the town. Being so clueless, it's probably a good thing he's not the chief or sheriff or somethin'. And it looks like Billy's sheriff was already here, talking to a drone. Walkin' up behind him, the unsuspecting Billy just wanted to make sure he had the right guy.

"Hey there, hoss - and you too, bot. You Salvo?"

Solar Daddy Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[Dragongal]

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Everett switched back to the file he was required to send to the System's databases and filled out the header summary. Victim, Olivia Santiago, age 11. Murder by arsenic tablet dissolved in drink. Killer: Philip Santiago, cousin to Olivia. Motive: relief of tension between families over inherited fortune. Full admittance of guilt. In Juvenile corrections as of current date.

He glanced up as the System-provided ship rocked with the shudders indicating reentry, then looked down at the pile of stainless steel fondly curled up at his feet. He'd have to finish the other 2 coded copies later. "Alright boy. Back on Ganymede." The metal glowed with a pale blue between its panels and looked up at him, yawning like a real bloodhound woken from its midday nap. A slight smile pulled at Everett's lips as he snapped his archaic paper notebook shut and closed the case file on his data pad to open up their current assignment.

The only name he'd been given was one "Salvo" - apparently a reliable bot, from what records Everett could access. Except one or two redacted things, but hey, he had no room to judge. Everett certainly had plenty of black highlighter scribbled on his files. More than likely it was to protect both of their privacy. Salvo's records indicated a solid reputation for good work protecting some of the more outlying areas of the solar system and that was all Everett really cared about. Now, if this Salvo could lead a group? That would be seen shortly.

Instructions blared on the overhead speakers as the ship landed in a shaky, jerky excuse of a landing. Everett ignored the speaker, he's heard it all hundreds of times by now. Besides, after a week on this ship, he was more than ready to leave. The Moon had been nice - it was always good to be back near Earth and some of the more "civilized" areas, though the bureaucracy wouldn't' be missed. Everett pulled on his helmet and sighed as the respirator kicked in, a soft whirring that he always had to remind himself to ignore. Such a hassle. He stood, staying on his feel despite the last few shakes of the ship, and tugged on his armored trench coat, the metal plates on the left side making slight clinking noises as the fabric shifted. Sliver stood beside him with a shake of his head, soft synthtech ears flopping about as he recalibrated himself after his recharge period.

A few minutes later, Everett walked out of the ship and nodded his thanks as he took the reigns of Silas from one of the System guards who had been unlucky enough to get cargo bay duty. The matte gray and white horse snorted at Everett. "Yeah yeah, I know, ya ain't happy about the week in the bay, I know, ya never are. Ya act like I didn't visit you!" He ran his hand over one of the white side panel's on Silas's face and the horse snorted dismissively. "They programmed you with too much attitude sweetheart, but that's alright." He checked over the saddle and harness before easily swinging up into the saddle - low gravity made it a breeze even with his armored jacket. Everett looks around for any threats the Sliver didn't notice. Even then, the System guards who were checking out the ship and the landing area would have opened fire if there were issues. It was almost eerily quiet, but Everett wasn't going to complain.

Sliver trotted by Silas's side for the whole journey into Deadweight. It wasn't far, but even if it was, the "dog" could have made it with ease. Upon arrival at the saloon, Everett checked his weapons before dismounting from Silas and tying him to the post with the additional command of "Wait," just to make sure nobody could steal Silas without the horse locking up. Even then, Everett was fairly certain Silas would end up kicking or biting someone to death before getting stolen - he still didn't know all that that second-hand horse was capable of. He'd found it abandoned and taken it to get quite a few repairs - repaired mostly by a man named Silas. It was quite the long story anyway.

Everett whistled softly, the sound conveyed over the speaker in his helmet, and Sliver snapped to attention, padding by his side and just slightly behind him. In the far corner, Everett could see a familiar face - not one he'd met, but one he'd just seen displayed on his data pad. The robot in question was speaking to a hologram. Interesting. He considered walking over, but watched as someone in a tan duster went before him. Clearly Everett was in the right place, but it would be rude to overwhelm Salvo with introductions, and what was Everett if not polite?

Besides - it made for a fantastic excuse to start memorizing each detail and movement tik of his new companions. Hesitations, gestures, shifts of footing, weapon locations. Important little details. He took his helmet off and pulled up a seat at a table next to the door. He was inconspicuous here, not in an immediately line of sight from someone entering the bar and he had a good view of his new companions. Sliver sits himself behind Everett's seat to keep an eye on everything as well.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Salvo was more than surprised to see two people abruptly spring up and begin a conversation with him; he barely had time to register the fact that one of them was a Big Iron projecting a hologram, the other being a relatively normal looking... Was that a horn? "I'm Salvo, aye." He nodded his head and tipped the barely held together hat on his head. "Nice to meet you two. "S'pose you're both my Deputies, right?" He read the scribbled notes of his new job from the System's contractor; He didn't care much for the details. All he cared about was whether or not he had new hires for his posse. Seeing as he had a Big Iron on his side, and a man who seemed to be working just fine with metal lodged in his skull gave Salvo a reassured vibe. These two looked like they could take a hit, and this far past Mars, that's exactly the kind of people he needed. "Nice to meet you both. I'm not gonna waste any time on elaborate speeches or introductions; You're here to work for me, and I'm here to help stop thieves, murders and other forms of scum from turning the Frontier into a hellscape. Do your jobs, try not to get shot, and maybe we can all get off Ganymede with a fat check and some merit under our belts." Salvo stood, took one last hit of the datashard, then dropped a couple credits on the table. He didn't even bother to give the bartender a glance. "Let's move out, sitting around this place is just begging to be shot for our badges." He paused, before reaching into the pocket of his duster and distributing a Deputy badge to Billy and Core. "Congratulations. If you weren't a part of the System's Gov, you are now."

With a wave of his hand, he motioned for his newfound companions to follow. He eyed a rather suspicious looking man by the door with a robot hound giving him a glance; Salvo knew it was his detective even without reading the description of Everett. Salvo simply gave a nod in the direction of the door to tell Everett to come along. Salvo exited the saloon and was once again grateful for his lack of dependency human needs; he no doubt would've died by now for forgetting his oxygen tank while walking out a door. Once outside in the moats of dust that belonged to Ganymede's surface, Salvo began untethering his horse from its post. "We're heading to Gold Man's Lookout, to the north. It's by a crater, can't miss it." Salvo mounted Killroy, waited for the others to do the same, and began cantering off to the north. "When we're there, we've gotta find an outpost. We've heard reports of a gang hiding out by there. Hopefully this'll be an easy first mission; we show up, tell people to leave, shoot those that don't, and get paid. Should be pretty simple." Salvo rode a bit further before muttering, "We're lookin' for a man named Baker the Butcher. He's a highly wanted man in these parts, and word is, he's got a tough posse with him. Call themselves the Red Canyon Posse. Real creative bunch. If we come across them, we need to keep Baker alive. System's hasn't even put a dead bounty on him. Which means no mistakes." He knew he sounded overbearing, but right now they needed information on what they were doing. Formalities and niceties would come later. Gold Man's Lookout wasn't very far and their ride wouldn't take long at all.

In the downtime, he spoke. "How'd you get that big ol' rod stuck in your skull, Bill?" While he was on the topic, he also bothered to ask, "Core, who the hell managed to get a Big Iron working for the System's Gov? Are you even still a part of its hivemind?"

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

C.O.R.E
interaction: Solar Daddy​

more people showed up Core's holographic counterpart giving them all a wave as they entered he was honestly feeling rather uncomfortable, they AI had forgotten what it was like to be around so many people well people here for law enforcement there was also a detective at least they looked like it.. Core would curse that they didn't have access to documents on people anymore.. and then it just saddened the old AI system. eventually, Salvo explained what they were doing oh great... they where supposed to be hunting bandits.. with a detective guy... an old man.. and.. well core didn't know but it coldn't help but feel an immense sense of dread flood its circuits the hologram disappeared as they all began to leave Core semi ignoring what everyone else said since the Ai didn’t really wanna talk to anyone and hoped no one would ask any question.. just find this butch baker easy enough right? That’s when salvo asked Core about its status. “Oh well you know these get repurposed all the time.. but err I’m actually the hivemind I’m THE C.O.R.E I guess that pretty cool.. so I suppose I always have worked for system gov…. Or I did.. until I got decommissioned... still haven’t found my body yet,”

 

[Solar Daddy]

Salvo's eyes would've widened if he had any. Instead, he tilted his head back slightly as a way of showing he was surprised. "Well damn, I wasn't expecting to have the CORE hivemind as my backup for Baker. Definitely a welcome surprise, though. I'm sure you can be a pretty good bullet magnet in a fight, too. Nothin' like a metal chassis to keep us from getting slugged like all the rest of the humans." It was clear Salvo wasn't happy with humans in general; maybe it even sparked from jealousy. His hate for flesh and bone stemming somewhere deep, the longing to return to such a fragile but priceless form. Salvo quickly took his mind off the thought of humans once more.

"There's Gold Man's Lookout," He said, motioning at the crest of a dune a couple tens of meters out. It was a dilapidated shack good for not much more than hiding from the wind, and even that it didn't do well. There was also a smaller shed in comparable condition and a scaffold tower, reaching high into Ganymede's sky by about fifty or sixty meters. Didn't look stable, either. A gust could bring the entire compound tumbling down. As the posse approached, they soon could see across the dune and spot various compounds, farms and general purpose buildings dotting the landscape. Gold Man's Lookout was a high point in the area, which provided them the necessary view they needed. Salvo dismounted Killroy, patted his side twice for good luck, and stepped up to the peak. As much as Salvo would appreciate the extra height, there was no way he was climbing that damn scaffold tower. Its entire purpose was for surveying, but his Maker knows just how much weight it could support. Instead, he opted to remain on the dune and peak at the various settlements visible to him. Despite his map of the area being dodgy at best, he assumed to the direct east was the Vendetta Silver Mine, and adjacent to it was the "town" of Lightstock, about three or four residential buildings in total. Barely more than what could pass as an actual mining operation in these parts. They usually tended to reach hundreds of workers in the mines specifically. It was one of the most lucrative businesses out here.

Following his train of thought, Salvo turned his gaze southward from there, where he saw an outcropping of rocks among some flora. The same generic type that could survive a lack of atmosphere, but barely grew at all. They were launched in mass onto planetoid surfaces just to give the inhabitants of these lands a little feel of home. Who needs a view of Earth's lush forests when you can see the occasional half-dead tree from time to time?

"I think that's the place we're looking for," Salvo said, motioning to the others. "We sally out, see if anyone's home, and hope we don't get shot at on the approach. Baker the Butcher is notorious for setting traps so watch where you step when we're in there. I suspect there's a cave or a hidden den somewhere in that assortment of rocks. Let's hope we can take Baker alive, or at least surprise him enough to force a surrender."

Mounting Killroy again, he turned to face Everett. "I want you up front for the negotiations first, since you're the most fresh out of System Gov's pocket. Maybe some fancy talk'll get him thinking of a sweet Earth jail to rot in." With a clack of his stirrups on the metal hide of Killroy, he continued. "Let's move out, people."

 

[Kabboom]

Billy took the new badge with unsure hands. The contract didn't mention shiny badges! Did it? He couldn't remember for the life of him - he could only read the essentials well: go with Salvo, kill bad folks, get money. Whatever the deal with the badges was, Billy wasn't gonna just stand there with his hand splayed like an idiot; the badge went on his right chest, hooking comfortably with his overcoat, making sure it doesn't interfere with his body armor in any way. He then fell in line as Salvo motioned the posse to move out, not forgetting to slip on his oxygen helmet - truth be told, the thing looked like a welding helmet with a cheap plastic respirator and some reinforced biker goggles in the front (mostly because that's what it was). Shortly before the exit, Salvo motioned at yet another prospecting deputy, a grey-coated detective type with... is that metallic clinking Billy's hearing? Whatever the case, Billy felt more comfortable with yet another gun in the group.

Unbuttoning his coat when they exited, Billiam mounted his noble steed, a flea-market robotic steed named Mule - or was it Horse? The thing responded to both of those hails, and Billiam himself was confused as to whether this thing was a horse named Mule, or a mule named Horse. Robotic hooves a-clopping on the dead earth, trailing behind the other steeds, Billy quietly listened to Salvo's briefing as he did a double-take of himself, checking for seams on his armor straps, his ammo belt, his Big Iron. The sheriff's question pertaining to his skull-rod came as a surprise, but Billy was no stranger to that question by this stage in his life. "Well, y'see sherf-man, that's the thing. Me an' my brothers used to be sum' sorta scrapyard fellers, cuttin' junk up n' sellin' 'em, ya know? So one day, I was diggin' near this bomb or rokket thing, and darn thing just blew up on me! I got kinda hurt, but I guess I got nine lives, heh! All I got for that was a lousy horn. See?" His mouth just kept running on and on, even though his human limitations meant that he was mostly muffled through his respirator, and the 'horn' he was pointing at was completely shrouded by the helmet.

When they got to Gold Man's Lookout, Billy dismounted like the others, buttoning up his tan coat once more - the only iron those Red Canyon boys will see at a distance is the badge on his chest and the steel left arm he's got. As Salvo surveyed the land and laid out the plan, the Teomothy boy got to work fixin' up his gunbelt so that the Big Iron would be behind his back, just in reach of his right hand. "Sounds like a helluva plan. I hope y'all can shoot as fast as ya look." With that, he got back on Mule and got moving with the rest of the posse. He'll let 'em do the talking, while he eyed up the destination for no-gooders in hiding.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

C.O.R.E
interaction: Solar Daddy Kabboom​

"oh yeah well" core replied sounding rather awkward in its mechanical speech it felt that it would want to scratch its head since, despite the praise, it still left core feeling somewhat flustered in a sense. well if a AI hivemind could be considered to have the ability to become "flustered" the anxiety was still most certainly there. “Well I’m glad I can help again it’s been a really long time..” Core replied once more remaining rather quiet form the rest of the trip. While the fellow with the horn apparently had gotten his injury that’s to a bomb or something as it sounded rather bad for ones health. “Maybe you should have been a little more careful or something sir..” CORE mentioned softly. and thusly they would finally reach there destination Somewhat looking over at salvo the big Iron lowered itself slightly. “Anything I can do to help.. or?”

 

[Dragongal]

Everett followed after Salvo and the crew, though he had to take a moment to put on his helmet. Technically he'd only need a respirator, but he refused to trust those things. Too easy to be grabbed or, hell, punched off your face. Then you're in for some hell.

For the majority of the walk, Everett focused on what he did best: listening and gathering information. It wasn't eavesdropping if you were with the group. And besides, his eyes were on his tablet. Everett listened to the assignment and while Salvo spoke to the others, he began pulling up a map of the area - well, as much as it is mapped in the System's database. It was surprisingly thorough, but didn't give him the terrain coverage he had hoped for. This Butcher guy and his envoy would have an advantage - how many were with him? What were they armed with, did they have drones? Explosives would be a bitch. Were they known to have vehicles - stop. Map now, questions later.

With some manipulating, Everett was able to pull up what little was in the database about Baker (they didn't even have a damned image) as well as the map. Hell, even their trip up high didn't do them much with the way the outcroppings were layered. Maybe his robotic counterparts could see at a distance better than his human eyes could, but Everett wasn't betting on it. Can't see through stone no matter how good the magnifcation on a lens is. He pulled up the map as a hologram projected from his tablet to show the others. Descriptions were great, images were better. "Salvo, if ya've got some kinda scout drone, you should probably use that now. I've got the general map here but it's nothin' recent, and it doesn't have much for the terrain. An eye in the sky might be good before we go too much deeper. Those outcroppings could hide more than I'd like to wonder about. I'm happy to do the talkin' for ya - I'll put on the best Earth-official accent - " his cadence changed immediately, "however, I'm not sure they are aware that Beker is supposed to be taken in alive - the rest of the posse is optional. If Baker knows we can't kill him, it may make things far more difficult. best we can hope for is one of his posse betraying him in exchange for... political immunity."

Everett stretched and readjusted his coat, letting the metal plates fall back into place on his left side while Sliver yawned next to him. Back to his original cadence, "Which'd be kinda boring, but probably for the best. I can see what I can do for ya. The pay's the same no matter how many of the posse we kill, so better save the bullets if we can."

Spoiler: MAP

 

[Solar Daddy]

Everett was right; they couldn't reveal their hand. It was too important for them to take Bake alive. The son of a bitch deserved a bullet in the head as much as he deserved a lifetime in prison. He was never one of those people who felt time in a cell was worse than death. He felt that permanently losing yourself was the worst thing that could happen to you. This didn't hinder his plan though; they would get paid boatloads if they brought in Baker alive. So that's what Salvo intended on doing. "No worries," He told his posse. "We'll get moving. Just wanted to get a good look from a distance. I'll keep from wasting any more time. If you're all just as eager to eat a bullet as I am, then let's not delay." Salvo adjusted his belt and tipped his hat, getting back on Killroy. With a small pat, Salvo motioned for his colleagues to follow. Despite wishing he could just resolve this with talking, Salvo knew deep down that a man like Baker the Butcher wouldn't go quietly even if it meant keeping his own men from getting shot. He trotted along the surface of the lonely moon, hoping they'd get through this with as little bloodshed as possible. The more he thought on who Baker was, the less he believed that was possible. He refrained from telling his Deputies, though. He needed them to think they could get out of this alive, no matter how unlikely that started to seem.

Once they got close to the outcropping, though, Salvo's gut feeling got worse. There was no way a man with Baker's reputation could just get strolled up upon. No, Baker would be expecting them... "Hey, Core, Everett, go around to the right, see if we can't get a good flank on them in case they have a-" Before he could finish his sentence, Salvo was immediately knocked off his horse by a well placed shot on his dome piece. He hit the dirt, certain his programming was about to be shutting down sooner or later. This was no place to die, though. He drew his pistol and wildly fired in the direction of the outcropping. "Markman!" He finished his sentence. Killroy freaked from the sound of the shots and began running off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. The dust provided good cover as Salvo dragged himself to a nearby rock, cowering behind it as he felt the damage to his head. He could clearly feel the dent from the bullet, and a few wires threading out of his skull where the bullet impacted. He turned to his group, who no doubt had grabbed cover by now, saying, "I'm alive, for now!" He quickly reloaded the rounds into his revolver, before straightening his back. "Let's kill this son of a bitch. Keep your eye out for a man with a robotic lower jaw. Do not shoot him, that's Baker. We need him alive. Kill the rest."

 

[Dragongal]

Everett was quick to bring up his left arm over his chest, knowing that the metal plates on his trench coat only gave him a slightly better chance of surviving a shot to the chest. The helmet he wore was some extra protection against a glancing blow, but unlike his robotic counterparts, he was exceptionally vulnerable. Like the others, he dove off his horse to hide behind some rocky cover while Silas didn't seem to mind and trotted off to wait nonchalantly nearby. Damned horse.

Everett pulled out his pistol and fired a cover shot before commanding, "Sliver, find the marksman and break his gun!" In a flash the robotic hound was off in the direction that first shot had come from. The dog would use its varying skills to find themarksman and then use its titanium teeth to bite into and break whatever gun he was using. Everett always found that command better than "get him" because just breaking the gun was a very clear-cut and effective task... and so much cleaner in the end.

"Salvo, you alright?" Sure, he said he was alive, but that didn't mean he was alright. Everett leans back behind his cover and counts the other two. Okay, so only Savlo was injured. That was good so far.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

C.O.R.E
interaction: Solar Daddy Dragongal​

CORE simply nodded along to the plans of the other, not game on suggesting anything... just hoping maybe it could actually help.. no one had told it what to do. that was until a sudden shot rang out slamming into salvo marksmen crap they had probably seen CORE's massive frame and picked out the Sherif it was obviously CORE's fault least that's what it thought but no salvo was actually alive if Core could sigh it would actually sigh ok so everything was sorta ok... right? RIGHT? "UM UM OK OK" core mechanical frame blurted out the Big Iron the housed CORE consciousness currently galloped forward its long limbs giving it a great stride as it moved towards the location of the gunman that had shot Salvo its weaponry opening up to give said Marksman something to chew on maybe it could help now right? right?

 

[Kabboom]

Billiam listened to the sheriff as he rode forward, his right hand resting on his hip the entire time - a benign, naive expression of confidence from afar, concealing the ulterior motive of being quick on the draw with his Big Iron on his back. His mule-horse was dumb enough to obey his commands, although he prayed this thing didn't have any hardwired fear of gunshots or incoming fire. He shot an occasional glance at the other members in the posse, before returning to his wayward observation. The investigator lookin' fellow had his head on straight, discussin' all kinds of scoutin' and puh-lidi-call immunity, whatever that means. Billiam understood the part about the pay being the same no matter how many they killed, so he felt like he got all the important details. The Core drone fellow was struttin' along just fine, keeping pace - Billy is kinda hesitant to see it get into action though, since he was sure he'd scrapped a few of their models back on Mars and they don't look too sturdy against gunfire.

Salvo started giving orders to flank around, when all-a-sudden he just got shot in the head! The sheriff fell off his high horse with a hole in his robo-dome, and that was enough to set Billy into action. The shot came from the rocks they were headed, and he drew his gun and squeezed off some shots in response. His mule named Horse (or horse named Mule) charged ahead with its simplistic coding thankfully lacking in fear programs, barely flinching as Killroy blitzed past them in the opposite direction. Three shots out the barrel, Billy would've taken cover behind one of the rocks he was passin', but he caught sight of the Core drone charging blindly. Instinctively protective of teammates and not keen on watching the poor sap get blasted apart, Billy took himself closer to Core, and hollered out to it. "Core! Get your ass in cover, bud!"

With that, a round caught the Teomothy boy in the heart, putting a hole through his coat and stopping just short of penetrating his steel - thank god for his junk armor. Getting knocked off his horse and onto the ground was a bit more painful, but he managed to low crawl right behind a small piece of rock, while his robohorse stood still. "Where are y'all?" Billy sounded off as he started reloading Big Iron and recovered himself mentally.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Salvo was preoccupied trying to gauge the damage to his head he'd just taken; few robotheads were as vain as Salvo. As much as he wished for the permanence of death, he was one hell of a survivalist. After deciding the damage was mostly superficial and not much more than a dent in his skull, Salvo tightened the grip on his revolver and peeked from cover to try and get a good view of the bastard who shot him. That's when he spotted Billiam and Core pressing the attack. Shit. Salvo knew this meant they needed to be all in or all out; considering half the party was already mobilizing, Salvo cursed under his breath and hopped over his rock, charging in after his deputies.

As they approached the sniper's lookout, it was clearly part of a larger rampart which blocked their passage forward. It was made of various scraps of metal and wood, little more than just a barrier to keep unwanted folks out. Two sniper towers on either side of the outer wall had one man each raining lead on the posse as they approached through the valley in the outcropping. Salvo was quick to hug the perimeter of the valley, hoping to at least mitigate one of the marksman's view of him. He holstered the revolver in his hands and brought out the repeater resting on his back. Salvo lined up the shot and fired a volley of lead at the sniper on the right. It took almost his entire mag, but eventually the Marksman cried out and tipped over the railing, hitting the ground with a thud. One sniper down, one to go. And then they needed to find a way to get through the compound's walls. Dynamite? That was the best option he could think of at the moment.

 

[fickleglory]

The smell of cigars and moonshine wafted into Cass’ face while she sat beside a goon. He laughed with a hand placed on her thigh as the others echoed back. Cass had arrived early to assure her belongings and place of stay was settled in properly. It was a dingy place really, but something about it’s southern charm and dust made it cozy. A day or so went by and she decided to roam the streets as a saloon whore. No one paid you any mind unless they wanted to pay for your time. So, now she’s here with The Red Canyon Posse. She surveyed them, and some others brought their own girls… One in pink and black and the other in gold and brown. Whores. Cass eyed their flirtatious banter between them and their escorts, they’d lean into the men’s ears and rub their arms. Then he’d smirk under his scrappy beard. It was impressive how easily you could oil up their gears. The way they turned in their heads, you could almost see the steam slipping out their ears. Disgusting.
“-Hannah?” the man next to her said.
“S’cuse me?” Cass said.
“I say, it was my winning streak at the saloon that got your interest in me, wasn't it?” this time he squeezed her thigh and shook her leg. Right, she was lucky enough to come across this drunken, blabbering, arrogant (she could go on) man named Jeb Knowles. He was bragging about his “posse” having something “big” going down, but their “lockjaw” boss wanted them to keep in under wraps. The "lockjaw" comment was what raised her suspicions. Apparently no one’s seen the leader of the Red Canyon Posse. But the rumor was: whoever did had some cosmetics done to his jaw. So, she helped Jeb cheat to victory to pay her for her company. Today was supposed to be that day, she wasn’t sure how’d she’d get out of it, but that would be more urgent when the time came.
“Ah, yes... I remember you seemed to have a lucky stride after I came long though,” her gloved hand rested atop his. The man’s laugh came from his belly as he took another swig of his moonshine and pulled Cass closer. “You do make a man feel lucky Hannah Anne... Say, why don’t we-”
“Boys! We gots company!” a man with a black bandana on his neck says. All at once the men dropped their cards, drinks, and women to head toward their posts. They burst out the door and locked it behind them, leaving the girls to themselves. You’ve got to be joking... Cass’ lips puckered and wrinkles bunched together on her forehead as her arms crossed. Either this was an idiotic drop from rivals or the Sheriff decided to mosey up onto their front door.

The girls clung to each other, fearful and excited. Cass shook her head and adjusted the tiny hat atop the blonde, bob, wig she dawned for this escapade. “Ladies, I suggest you get close to the ground and away from the windows.” She peeked through the openings of the wood planks haphazardly nailed into the wall. Two towers on either side of the gates opening. “I really hope it’s the Sheriff… and if it is, he’s gonna need a way in.” she muttered. Cass hurried to the door and tried the handle. It really was locked. She had to be quiet, she can’t blast through the door unlike some people. Cass began to work at the hinges.

 

[Dragongal]

What was CORE doing? Even if he WASN'T permanently attached to that body, he wasn't going to find another compatible one nearby! If this marksman - or marksmen - was really good, they could whittle away at the Big Iron that more or less comprised CORE. Damn panicked robot. Now everyone else was following. At least CORE's guns made for some solid cover for their apparent charge.

Given that everyone else was making a run for it, Everett figured he'd better move, too. In his current position he was a sitting duck anyway if any of the posse came from a different direction, or if one of the snipers was bothered enough to send someone out to search. Just as he was about to sprint after Salvo and the others - after making sure his pistol was loaded - he heard a click through the speaker of his helmet. A grin cut across his face and Everett jumped out of cover, racing after Salvo, CORE, and Bill.

By the time he got near the wall, the last sniper had their hands full with Salvo. Everett turned on his heel and high-tailed it toward where the body landed in the dust. He's barely separated from the main group when he sees Sliver trotting happily toward him with a rifle held between shiny titanium teeth. "Guess you did get the gun, huh? Good boy." Everetttook a moment to pat the dog on the head before resuming his sprint to the body.

That was a very dead man, but he was in better condition than some of the bodies Everett had had to work with. He rolled the corpse onto its back and started going through its pockets. Some money, a flask of booze of some variety, a pistol that had seen much better days, some bullets, some gambling chips - an ace of diamonds? Cheating bastard.

Vices aside, Everett was interested in finding 3 things - identification, a way into the compound, and any scrap of evidence of who he worked for, how he was contacted, where this Baker might be - anything. Out of those 3, he got 1: a wallet with cards identifying the guy as one Andrew Sarling. That, Everett would tuck away for later. Along with the cash and spare bullets. The pistol wasn't worth the effort it would take to fix it up. Identity, though? That could come in handy.

Everett looks at Sliver with a smile hidden behind his helmet's visor. "Alright boy, time to get back to the group. Can't be holdin' still."

 

[Kabboom]

Billiam stopped and took a peek from his cover as he finished loading fresh bullets into the Big Iron's revolving magazine. From a distance, it probably looked comical for the enemy sniper, spotting a head with a horn sticking out of it - the sniper must've found it very amusing, because a high-pitch laugh track came in the form of hot lead fizzing by Billy's area. Hearing the telltale crackle of a poorly-oiled repeater once more, the Teomothy figured that the sharpshooter's firing at the other members of his posse now. Inhaling a dose of courage mixed with rebreather oxygen, Billy hopped out of cover and hopped back on Mule, and yeehawed his way forward, trying to make up for his time in cover with this amazing burst of speed.

Being the bigger, faster target brings its fair share of attention, and the rounds started coming his way again. Billy simply ignored them and continued on. Balls of steel were a valuable asset - but a vest of steel is more practical, as the next round pinged off the lower left face of his bulletproof chestplate, where his guts were. Drawing the Big Iron, Billy started loosing shot after shot at the shed, aiming to suppress the dastardly cur. Five out of six rounds in the cylinder, and the enemy sniper seems to have been persuaded to leave, popping out the rear of his shed and preparing to slide down the ladder to retreat.

Yanking the robohorse/mule to a halt, Billy directed his steed to his left so that his right arm - his good arm - could get a clear shot. Squinting closely at the target, Billy waited 'til the enemy's head cleared the main structure - for all he knew, that could be the Baker they've been looking for... nope! No metallic jaw, too bad! The last round in the Big Iron found its forever home inside the neck of the shooter as he was interrupted in his ladder-descending. Falling flat onto the ground beneath him, the second sniper was no more. Billy nodded and hopped off his robohorse, ordering it to follow Salvo's smarter horse as he made off on foot, reloading his gun. "Arright, area's clear!" He hollered out to the posse.

"What next, boss?" Billy addressed Salvo in particular, once he was within earshot. Hopefully his audio receptors weren't shot out along with his forehead.

 

[Oceanic Mind]

Ah, Breq was late.

The Medic smiled to herself, although it was humorless, and pulled back on Toren's leads to be sure the horse stopped. (It was a good horse, but stubborn, and some persistence was required to properly operate it.) She wasn't exactly surprised to be late, the transport pod she'd taken to get to Deadweight had admitted they would be several minutes behind schedule due to 'unforeseen travel conditions' (she had noted the fact they chose not to elaborate on these conditions) and by the time she'd unloaded her items, horse, and found her way to the saloon the Sheriff had been gone. That wasn't the issue though; it was easy enough to ask the bartender, various bystanders, and a couple street vendors to point her in the right direction. (She was down ten credits; someone who was clearly too young to have a vendor's license had required a bribe. It was funny, so she gave in.)

The issue was that the shooting had already started. She was still a good clip away from the apparent scene and she could see the disturbed dust and muzzle flashes clearly. Ah—and someone's horse had made a run for it, poor thing. It was still distant enough to be closer to the gunfight than to her, but it wasn't showing any signs of stopping. That would be unfortunate for the rider.

Breq clicked her tongue and nudged Toren into a canter, taking a path perpendicular to the spooked horse to cut it off. Luckily, it seemed to realize it was out of range and slowed to a stop near an outcropping of rocks, snorting and stomping its agitation. Breq came within a few feet before dismounting Toren and slowly approaching the horse.

It took a minute of soft cooing and gentle pats, especially given the gunfight not too far away, but eventually the horse was at a place she could take it's leads and cajole it to join Toren, who was snuffling placidly at the dust. By then, she had another song stuck in her head.

'Algo había alrededor, quizá, de claridad, Fernando'

She was far too quiet to properly be singing, but it was more than humming she was doing as she gave the nerve-y horse a final pat and stepped up on Toren's stirrups to swing herself onto the saddle with a quiet huff—only the slightest interruption of her song.

'Que brillaba por nosotros dos, en protección, Fernando'

It was a little awkward to get a hold of the stray horse’s lead from her place on Toren, but she managed, and was able to urge them both forward into a leisurely trot. She would have liked to go faster, but she didn’t want to have to wrangle the stray again. She also wouldn’t be much use if she got shot by a marksman if she entered the fight just now—not that she knew who was winning the skirmish, but she had better luck talking her way out of a situation if she came in after things calmed down, rather than during.

'No pensábamos jamás perder ni echar atrás- Si tuviera que volverlo a hacer, lo haría ya, Fernando'

Breq made good time, all things considered, but she’d still had plenty of quiet time to get stuck on the chorus of ’Fernando’. Still, she found herself at the awkward distance where she was certainly visible, but too far to introduce herself. Pity. She hoped they wouldn’t mistake her for pitiful reinforcements; the fighting seemed to have lulled for the moment, and it would be stupid if she were shot now, so close where she was supposed to be. She mulled over the possibility for a moment as she continued her leisurely approach and scanned the scene. Two dead or severely wounded, at least three figures (that she could see) still standing and a—Breq squinted (although the mass was fairly hulking and hard to miss)—Big Iron? Huh. Oh, and another rider-less horse on approach, how wonderful. She was slightly amused to find that, after catching up, it only turned around and fell into step with the first stray she had found.

She waited for one of the still-standing figures to look in her direction before giving a friendly little wave complete with a pleasant smile. Still too far for a conversation, but hopefully close enough to convey the message ’I’m a friendly, don’t shoot.’ She spotted another horse, standing contentedly nearby as if it hadn’t been witness to a recent gunfight. Three horses, three riders (and a drone). It seems as though she’s found her posse.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Salvo was more than glad to see that the marksmen were taken care of and no longer a threat. While Everett scoured the dead man's corpse for anything useful, Salvo cleared the rest of the distance and placed himself against the outer wall. It seemed to be very loosely built, not very sturdy at all, but not something they could just tear away with their hands. "Good job fellas, keep up the momentum. Look for any way over this damned wall. Check for dynamite anywhere, or maybe a hole in the perimeter. We can't scale this thing so let's keep our eyes out for openings." He paused to look up above him where the sniper's had begun the fight at, now vacant for the moment. "Don't get complacent, more will show up any moment. Don't get lazy or you'll lose your head."

Salvo looked around his surroundings, noting a character far off approaching. Was this reinforcements for the enemy? Maybe a trader looking to deal with the outlaws? After focusing a bit harder, Salvo noted Killroy in the person's possession along with a few others from his crew. Ah, good. Salvo was glad to see Killroy wasn't just running off into the sunset. Whoever it was, Salvo was grateful to have another friendly on his side. The smile and wave confirmed it, and Salvo returned the greeting, though they were still too far away to talk. His wave was interrupted, however, when a powerful shotgun blasted through the wall right by his head. Salvo instinctively ducked and fell to the ground, firing a few shots of his six-gun into the wall where the shot had originated. Another shotgun blast rang out from the same spot, meaning the outlaw was still kicking. There were new two decently sized holes in the perimeter wall; not enough to crawl through, but enough to take a peek inside and scope out the compound. Maybe take a few shots at anyone inside. Of course, Salvo wasn't about to stick his head through a hole where a shotgun was pointed at. Salvo simply loaded a few more rounds into his revolver, and fired them off into the malleable surface. He had no idea if the shots landed or not. "Careful, they're packing some firepower in there." Salvo spoke to the others, as if the ringing of the shotgun blasts weren't evident enough.

 

[fickleglory]

Once the door was off the hinges, she pulled it from the frame and placed it against the wall. She looked at the tracks of boots on dusty floorboards scattered in the hall. Cas lifted her mask from her side bag and set it in place as she walked. Locked in place, she inhales to assure it functioned properly. As she opened the exit to the shack she heard the echo of a shotgun being fired. Her head peered through the open crack. Looking from the left to the right over the wasteland, some men scattered behind the barrier. It was such a jankey wall. Cass’ eyes scouted the mechanism that controlled the door. It seemed to slide the large metal door to the side with a pulley system. Easy enough. Open the door so they can storm the castle. Easy. They won’t be looking behind them. They’re busy with what’s outside the wall. Why are your hands so clammy? The lace gloves that she wore seemed to have a weighted dampness. Cass clenched her fist and made her move.

From one piece of debris, an oversized rock, and more debris, she ducked below the echoes of gun fire. Once at a tower, she pressed her body against the rusty surface. She eyed the wiring to the mechanism, it climbed up the wall. Must be the watch’s job to decide who comes in and out.

Cass lifts her skirt and pulls a shortened shotgun from a waist band. Is it loaded? She looks. She feels a wave of comfort seeing the shells in place. Not because she was a good shot, but that she could still try. Cass pulls open the heavy door to the tower and climbs the stairs to the top.
“Hannah!”

“Hannah Anne, what in tarnation are you doin’” Jeb says as his gun pointed to her.
Eyes wide looking at the damage in the wall she turned back to Jeb. “I… thought you might need some help!”
“Why…where did you get that from?” His gun gestures to hers.
“Storage-“ she raises her gun and fires toward him. Jeb ducks down out of the tower and Cass runs up the stairs to the room above. She shuts the door behind her, “Toodles,” she huffs as she locks the door. The top of her blouse shuffles and a small weasel reveals itself between her breasts. “Door. Open.” She looks at the mechanism power box. The weasel jumped off her and makes its way to the box, following him, Cass opened the box for him.

The weasel began its handy work and the door began to reel open. A loud bang struck the door. “Hurry up!” She called.

 

[0stinato]

A fortified fort. Is that where the word ‘fort’ came from? It would make sense, certainly. At least now, on the back of the galloping Big Tug, listening to the syncopated squeak of the horse’s left hip-thigh connection, he had a spare moment to consider, albeit in a shallow way, the etymology of the word. The gunfire was close, but he wasn’t about to become a target: given the appearance of the fort, and the care he was taking with approaching, if they took a shot at him it would have a very low probability to hit.

Up ahead, there was another friendly dismounting her horse. Although it often wasn’t advised to join up with another person in an active battlefield – you’d become the perfect target for a well-chucked Molotov cocktail, if not worse – he decided to steer towards the horse. Upon arriving, he slipped off Big Tug and slapped the horse’s shoulder, giving him the physical instruction to stay put. There was no need for hitching when you had the ability to give your horse simple technological commands.

Before he could properly enter the battlefield with the rest of the gang he had been signed up with, he had to unspool some belongings from Big Tug’s back. It was two months ago he’d signed himself up for bounty hunting, and six months ago when he’d started to turn his engineering towards more combat-based objectives. He had cases full of gear to create, in quiet moments, custom ammunition and small-scale gunpowder-based grenades, but his combat place was, essentially, demolitions. Gunpowder in hydrophobic containers, a case of dynamite and a spool of fuse, Del had all he needed to either blast his way through something or, thinking less savoury, methods to blow up a clutch of enemies should they wander into a rigged room or such.

That latter one Del had never actually done before. He didn’t like thinking about hiding in wait with a plunger, and detonating a room, turning thinking, feeling people into slurry and paste. Some nights, after working on his explosives proficiencies with tests and theory, he had terrible dreams about blowing up a room, only for a violent swell of blood and organs to come splashing out of the destructed room.

If he ever had to rig a room as a trap, he’d probably ask one of his new gang to deal with the ignition.

He shuddered as he hefted his reinforced dynamite case onto his shoulder. By the looks of the fort, it was truly fortified. And by the looks of the gang around, they had been out here for a while.

He approached Breq, vigilant for anyone popping up inside the fort. “Seems we’re in the same position, friend; I’m Del, for all intents and purposes, demolitions expert at this point in time. For the moment, let’s try not to let ourselves be instantly killed eh?”

The previous lifetime stored in the Mesh on his brain didn’t give him much combat experience either. It was a mesh which a previous engineer had had, someone who spent most of his life working with scraps of metal from his day job of maintaining factory machines, only becoming a ‘mad’ inventor in his 60s when he began making money off his strange creations. The only fight he had ever been in was a fistfight in a saloon when he tried to underpay a prostitute and the slap she gave him descended into chair-breaking chaos.

A fond memory: at least Del had the comfort that the men in that saloon cared about the prostitute’s work. Certainly he would never cheat a prostitute… primarily because he wouldn’t take a prostitute to begin with. He had work to do. He couldn’t afford falling in love at this stage.

”Listen, Darla,” Colt drawled through his liquor, drunkenness swimming in his eyes, “let’s get away from this ghost town, make a life for ourselves, buy a ranch, you’ll wear blue dresses and ride the mares, ah’ll deal with the rest.”

But Darla shook her head, picturing the future Colt painted. Nothing was real. Nothing was worth it. He was too stuck in his fantasy, blind to the dust of the world.

The passage from Iron Dust played in Del’s head. He knew it almost off by heart. That’s it though: don’t be stuck in fantasy, blind to the dust of the world.

Taking the small amount of wisdom the memory had to offer, Del scuttled along the sand, much heavier in his step than usual due to the case of dynamite on his shoulder. Getting closer to the rest of the gang was his necessity. He needed orders: demolitions should never act without direct orders or else he could put ally lives in danger.

He slumped near to Salvo, recognising him from the information he was given.

“Y’all in a rough spot I assume? I’m Del, assigned to you for the purposes of engineering and demolitions, and all I ask is you keep me alive ‘cause… I want you to. Point me where you need me,” he jogged his dynamite case, indicating its use, “and I’ll get to work.”

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

C.O.R.E
interaction:
Everything seemed to be going well CORE’s brazen actions had yet to get anyone killed so that was a very good thing at least… right? The AI mind buzzed with uncerntain so many veritables to go through it had frozen up for a time though it might have also just been the big irons now ancient frame bugging out a little. Worst of all CORE had missed most of the fighting leaving it up to the far more easily injuries humans… that was the worst thing he could do.. everyone else had seemingly gone on without CORE but they could at least catch up its large metal Body now walking over to the others seemed they where in a poor situation and they’d need some form of explosives luckily the approach of a new member solved there current issues a demolitions expert with enough dynamite to deal with the situation. turning to the new guy the big irons frame bent down on its old hyper segmented legs to be kind of on eye level to this Del fellow. “Oh um hi I’m core… old system… err anyway iv run a quick diagnostic on the walls… and well if you err I’ll just show you” CORE would mumbled before projecting a image of the wall along with X markers where the dynamite should be placed. “Just a suggestions… but it should help blow enough of a entrance we don’t end up with another choke point and us all getting shot at” CORE explained hoping for his idea to be taken into account. “if we do go with my idea someone’s going to need to distract the guys with shotguns for a little… I should be able to maybe… if one one else wants too” Core suggested meekly

 

[Spiderverse]

A.J. was late, as he always had the tendency to be. The man and his scruffy beard had been knocked out cold after having a grand old time celebrating his survival for another night, knowing full well all the craziness that could occur being apart of Salvo's gang. That man had a history, some of which he had been aware of working somewhat closely with the System, with their hella extensive archives being a wonder to the most curious of souls. And if A.J. was anything, he was sometimes curious. But that hadn't mattered, he could smell the death that was in the distance, somewhat close to his all new crew. He had to make a grand entrance of course. Swiftly making his way to his destination atop Black Bessy, his Traject-eye had caught the outline of a familiar figure: Salvo.

The man couldn't help but grin, letting out a loud "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW!" as he made his approach. Once he had finally made it closer to the rest of the crew, A.J's grin was as clear as day, holding up his signature weapon. "You got a hole that needs blastin' bossman? I got a big enough bessy to really pack it in there for us if ya give me a second!" The wild man twirled the large .50 calibur drill round on the tip of his, the slide already pulled and ready for loading. It was clear to anyone around, this guy wasn't worried about a difference in firepower.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Salvo was nearly overwhelmed with all the new faces surfacing in the middle of his try-not-to-get-shot mentality. He damn near shot Del as he approached, and was a little less jumpy when A.J. arrived. He knew them from the descriptions of their profiles: each of them decided by an AI to be fit for the job at hand. He was glad, too; when Del showed up packing explosives, he almost thanked his maker for sending exactly what he needed. After CORE's briefing, Salvo simply nodded. "The big one's right, we need to create as many openings as possible to keep us'all from gettin' clustered together. Once You've got the explosives in place, we'll bust'on through and pacify as many bastards as needs pacifying. Keep alive whoever you can but don't risk your own lives for theirs. A.J., I need you flinging as many bullets as you can at these bastards." He nodded towards his newest members who arrived late (though Salvo would use all the help he could get at the moment). "We'll shake hands and make introductions when there's no more lead flyin'. Get to work!"

It was then that the large gate cracked, and slowly parted - Salvo was prepared for a large posse to stroll out in hopes of just overwhelming Salvo's group with sheer numbers; but on the other side of the door were perplexed gang members, clearly unprepared for the gate to be ajar. Salvo wasn't one to question chances like this, despite how much he wish he knew was going on. There was time for that later, though; right now the gate was open and there were fools who needed lead in their bellies. Salvo leveled his revolver and fired three shots in their direction. He took cover again before seeing if he hit either of them, but the cries of pain seemed to mean he got at least one wound on 'em.

"Del, I still need the dynamite rigged to the wall, we'll keep you covered as you set them up." Salvo peeked the corner and fired again.