#Going for a gunsmith/rifle build for him

[antoncrane]

I need to draw Silas, but I also need to stop playing long enough to do that. ;; <3 (So obvs going to throw more photos at you in the meanwhile.)

[makuta-tobi]

Destinytober 2023 Day 7: SIVA

“I really, really, don't like this,” Athena shouldered her way past the scorched husk of a Servitor, her Ghost swinging its light to illuminate the crumbled passageways.

“What's not to like?” Tobi-17 hopped over some collapsed machinery, his attention drawn to the room around him, and he almost collided with the Awoken Titan as she stopped her task of moving aside rubble to shoot him a sharp look. “It's just a little exploration to see what we can make of the old program, that's all. Any new subroutines that we don't have access to.”

The hulking Titan turned her massive form toward him and leaned down so they were eye level.

“If Lord Saladin finds out about anything we're doing here, I'm telling him you kidnapped me at gunpoint. He's gonna have both our hides flayed by his new War Beasts.”

“And that's why we're doing it quietly and off the books,” the Exo shrugged and slipped past Athena, wiggling between a bank of computer terminals. “And besides, we're not going deep enough into the Plaguelands to even come close to the replication chamber, we're just gonna find some of the constructs nearby. I'll scan them and see what sort of commands they were running before they shut down, that's all.”

Athena scoffed at the casual dismissal. SIVA was dangerous. Unique, helpful, beautiful, and the most dangerous piece of tech Clovis Bray had ever created.

“And what would Ana think?” she continued, following the Warlock, who had begun prying open a door with a piece of rebar. “Or Elsie?”

Tobi-17 stopped and sighed. “I'm just trying to be helpful, okay? I'm just thinking, you know, we've tried to implement it before-”

“And it's always ended in tragedy every damned time,” she cut him off.

“-and we've always been prevented from trying by other forces,” he finished, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice. “First it was the Iron Lords getting merc'd by Big Red, and when they tried to blow it up and hide it, the Fallen kept us from running it back. But now, there's only two Iron Lords left, and one of them has been out of the system for years, the other is busy handling everything else. And Rasputin is... gone,” he faltered for a moment, then shook his head and continued, “he lost all control of it. There's no more Fallen here, no Hive, no nothing,” he spread his hands out wide for emphasis. “We're safe. But if we had it before... we could have done something.”

His voice sounded almost remorseful as he chewed over his thoughts. Athena gave him time, but then spoke up when she realized his concern.

“You think we could have prevented all... that if we had SIVA?” she gestured up at the ceiling, indicating the sky beyond it. Rasputin destroyed, the Warsats useless, the Traveler corrupted with a portal to who-knows-where ripped into its surface. “You know as well as I do that it wouldn't have been enough.”

“Maybe!” he blurted, “But maybe if we had SIVA, Rasputin could have had a working body sooner! He could have been one step ahead. Or we could have built a blockade, or more weapons in the City-”

“Or we could have been overtaken by our own fear and destroyed like everyone else who's tried to use this stuff.”

“Not everyone,” he unlimbered his rifle and held it up to her. The Outbreak rifles had been constructed by Shiro-4 and perfected by the Gunsmiths of the Tower. Now they were deadly weapons of war, less so than the great building blocks they had once been designed as. Athena sighed in defeat.

“It's not the same, but... fine. Let's see if we can't find you some old construction equipment.” Tobi-17 nodded and replaced the rifle on his back. Breaking open the door with another heave of the rebar, the two of them continued deeper into the facility, carefully stepping over shattered glass, fallen structures, and destroyed Shanks that still littered the floors here.

They emerged into a large room, possibly an amphitheater of some kind, and Tobi-17 suppressed a noise of joy. In the center of the room, dead and dormant, was a mass of machinery half-built. Dark cords of SIVA seemed to come from the floor, collecting in one central mechanism. Large black diamond shapes sprouted from the cords, like fungus growing on tree roots. All of it before them was made of an incalculable number of nano machines, that had once been programmed to build whatever was toppled over before them. The two Guardians picked their way down the steps and over damaged seats towards the prize laid out in front of them.

Tobi-17 reached into his pack and retrieved a small handheld screen with some wires coming from the bottom with diodes on the ends. He knelt down and jammed both of the rods into the mass of cables that looked as though they had fused into the very floor itself. The data feeds began flooding over the screen and he became lost in thought, murmuring affirmations to himself. Athena turned and walked over the broken floor to drop into one of the chairs, which nearly disintegrated as soon as she collapsed into it. She rested her rifle in her lap and let her eyes wander over the desolate room. There wasn't much here. Some Fallen cargo pods had been abandoned here years ago, as well as a cache of Ether, which she made a mental note of to alert Misraaks of later. There was a large shadow obscured in the back that could have very likely been the stripped down remains of a jumpship, or possibly a Fallen Walker, who was to say.

She heard Tobi-17 exclaim something to himself, and his Ghost, which now orbited around his head was responding, the two of them talking a mile a minute. Athena smiled and tilted her head back. Some objects hung from the ceiling, though she couldn't tell if they were lights or something else entirely, suspended on long ropes. A small hole had opened up in the roof and she could see the mid evening sky just outside, casting a faint line of pale orange against the nearby wall and floor. It wasn't enough to illuminate the room, but it was better than nothing. She swung her leg out and kicked a large piece of rubble. There was a loud groan.

Athena sat up and adjusted her position, hand wrapped around the grip of her rifle. Tobi-17 was loudly proclaiming his findings to his Ghost, but there was no other sound. Until there was. Another loud groan, coming from the back of the room. She raised her rifle and peered through the short scope, hoping to see something else. The Titan slowly backed up towards her Warlock partner.

“Hey, you got what you need, right?” she asked, her voice low.

“What?” he said without looking up, still distracted. “You have to see this, the algorithm is so much more complex than I realized, the self replication process is way more advanced than anything I've ever seen, it isn't even adapted to full in the guns!”

“Yeah, that's great and all, but are you done?” she asked. The Exo looked up and saw her kneeling next to him, but staring through the sights of her gun to the back of the room.

“Just about, why?” he set his device down and began to rise from his crouched position on the floor, grabbing his own gun.

“There's something else in here,” she said quietly. Then the load groan came again. Then a hum. Then a horn sound. The dark silhouette at the back of the room had a series of 8 dotted lights illuminate on its front, and then lines of red snaked up and around its body, giving it form as it rose.

“Hey, Seventeen?” Athena said softly. “Didn't you say the Kell's Scourge was the first Brig ever built?”

“Well, it was the first successful Brig ever built,” he answered. The hulking machine rose to its full height, and opened fire.

The first shot went over their heads and blew off a huge chunk of wall behind them.

“Grab the data!” Athena shouted as she braced her rifle on her shoulder and returned fire. The Brig took a few cautious steps forward and fired another arc shot, which whizzed by and made the air sizzle as it destroyed part of the floor to their left. Tobi-17 snatched up the terminal and shoved it back in his bag. The SIVA by his feet began glowing red as well, energy pulses running up from an unseen source.

“Let's boogie!” he laughed to no one, forming a void grenade in his hand and hurling it at the machine that was making its way slowly, tentatively, towards them. The energy ball landed just behind it, and a vortex pulled it backwards, undoing some of its progress. Athena kept up her fire as the Warlock hopped over a row of seats and gestured to the door. “Come on!”

Keeping low, she ran and fired on it, even as the Brig charged its cannon and shot again, missing by a wide margin.

“Are we just gonna run from this thing?” she asked incredulously as he held the ancient door open for her.

“Look, I saw the program running. It was dormant, but this particular lot was programmed for defense. The thing down there, it's another Brig, or at least it was supposed to be. They're guards, they're not gonna give chase.”

“You better be right," Athena ducked through the door, then peeked out and fired another burst from her rifle as the Brig took another step, covering her companion. The door slammed shut right as another arc shot took out half the wall. The two of them ran as quickly as they could, but their progress was impeded by the collapsed building they were currently occupying. They could hear its heavy footfalls and the sound of walls collapsing as it tried to locate them. But even empowered with SIVA, the prototype Brig was not able to locate them by itself. The processing power was slow, and was attempting to locate them based on where they would go, not where they currently were.

The pair managed to find the beacon they had placed at the broken down entrance, and they snatched it up, saddling on their Sparrows. The Brig inside made a loud rumbling noise, but it seemed so distant now. Perhaps it had finally given up now that they had left its stomping ground.

“So, did you get what you needed?” Athena growled in annoyance.

“Maybe,” the Warlock shrugged, “gonna have to go over it with some people.”

Athena shook her head and opened the throttle on her Sparrow, shooting towards the nearest relay point. She wanted to get the hell out of the Plaguelands, and back into her own bed. It had been too long. Tobi-17 steeled himself for the road ahead, leaned forward, and shot off after her.

[larabiatasstuff]

I'd love to read about a scenario where sweet tooth and his s.o are running a little business and handle everyday struggles like restocking their stuff etc. Just a little normal day by day sorta thing. Maybe they're selling guns or armory and also build them.. just like his truck. I guess I'd just like to read more of him and don't really know what to ask lmao. Everyday interactions are so satisfying to me. Is that too vague or can you work with that? If not it's totally fine and I shall think of something else. 🙏🏻

Thank you so much for sending your request anon🖤 I absolutely love the idea of them having a 'normal' life, running a business together etc. I think I can make something out of it, I hope you enjoy it. 😊

"So you would recommend this one?" the weird looking man on the other side of the counter asked checking out the weapon in his hands. " Yep I mean it depends on what you want to do with it. This is actually one of our most bought weapons." "Well let's say I want to go on a... hunting trip." he said giving me a smirk. " I understand well this is a solid revolver rifle,44 Magnunm, break action five shots you can't go wrong with that. Or, if you prefer shotguns I can highly recommend this one right here, 12 ga but it's break action one shot. " he looked between the two weapons before him and decided to take the rifle." No thanks, I think this is perfect. " " Alright now to the fun part what do you have to offer for that beauty? " I asked leaning against the counter." Give me an extra pack ammo and I'll pay five food coupons." I laughed "Yeah that was a good one. No seriously, I want at least ten for the weapon, twelve with extra ammo." he shook his head. "That's too much I can't do this. How about eight ?" I sighed "Look, I can't do that okay? Our weapons are hand forged and the parts aren't just lying around. I have to pay the milk men. So ten for the weapon, twelve with extra ammo. That's my last word." he let out a grunt and put twelve food coupons on the counter. I smiled." Thank you and good luck for your hunting trip." he just waved and left the shop. I put the coupons in the cash box, took my clipboard and continued checking the inventory and writing a list with things we needed. I was almost finished with the shelves when I heard Sweet Tooth humming in the back. I stood in the doorframe watching him work on a piece of armor, bending it and hitting it with a hammer from now and then. He was so focused that he didn't notice me. I couldn't help but smile at the view before me. Who would have thought that gunsmithing and making armor would be something he would be incredibly good at? I took a moment watching him while my mind went down the memory lane.

Part two

[christiangrest]

Sometimes…the Right Part Doesn’t Work

I like to think that I know a thing or two about the AR-15 platform. Having built many a rifle over the years, I seem to always learn something else when putting a new build together. You would think that if you accumulated a list of parts, even if from different manufacturers they would all work together. But sometimes that isn’t always the case. Because of this, I always try and keep some spare parts on hand to assist with troubleshooting when test firing a new build. Recently I helped a buddy put together a nice AR-15 build using an extensive parts list from Brownells. When going through the parts list, most of them were standard affair parts manufactured by Aero Precision. My buddy ordered his Aero Precision M4E1 stripped upper and lower receivers from Brownells along with an Aero lower parts kit, Aero Pro bolt carrier group and the Geissele Rapid Fire trigger. Because this was his very first AR-15 build, he didn’t yet realize what barrel, handguard, optic or furniture he wanted. So once we got together, I showed him some options and he opted for a Magpul LS stock, Brownells Wrenchman LW handguard, Ballistic Advantage lightweight Hanson barrel, VG6 Epsilon muzzle brake and the Primary Weapons buffer tube. For the buffer we went with a standard carbine weight buffer and a SpringCo standard carbine buffer spring. For the optic he went with the Brownells MPO 1-6 Donut and Magpul MBUS3 backup sights.

Once all of the parts showed up from Brownells, we got met up and I helped him with getting everything together. Assembly went without any issues. I spent the extra time to quickly lap the receiver face and bed the barrel extension. After a couple of hours we were ready for a range test. During our range test, I typically test the gas system for proper bolt lock on the last round in the magazine. This rifle would not lock back after the last round. Sometimes this can happen the first few rounds until the gas system seals up, but this wasn’t the case. The ejection pattern was in the 4-5 O’clock position so my thoughts were it was either undergassed or the buffer system had too much weight. A standard carbine buffer and spring are always a good starting point with a 16” midlength gas system AR-15. I carry with me an adjustable buffer and I lightened it up to around 2.2oz. Your standard carbine buffer is 3oz. With the lighter weight buffer, it started functioning perfectly fine, so I got to thinking about that SpringCo buffer spring we were using and upon further inspection, the fine print stated that it was for a carbine gas system. I then swapped out the SpringCo spring for another spring and put the standard carbine buffer back in, the rifle functioned perfectly.

This was a bit of a learning experience for me. This was the first time using a SpringCo buffer spring as the standard ones were out of stock. SpringCo springs are know to be great quality, but they have various spring weights for different applications. Even though this was labeled as for a carbine, they meant a carbine gas system, not a midlength gas system. Lesson definitely learned with this experience!

[recoiloperated]

Tbh, fair.

For about $50 more, you can get a PSA upper with an FSB and an Aero carry handle iron sight, that'd be twice the rifle.

And like I said: adding about $500 to the budget let's you go to a much better set up.

For that we're going to *build* the upper.

I'm assuming you have or are borrowing the tools, we're keeping the poverty PSA mil-spec lower. So we have a budget for the actual upper and optic of $800.

Here's the breakdown:

Aero precision assembled upper (forward assist/dustcover) - $80.

Rosco K9 13.95" barrel (including gas tube) $180

Strike industries Miller Comp - $33

Black rain ordinance adjustable gas block - $37

Toolcraft is on sale at Ar15discounts for $70, PSA sells blem toolcraft bolts for the same. There's also palmetto State armory bolts that are surprisingly good and usually properly staked.

Gonna grab an AIM sports 13.5 rail for $100, because screw it, it's not a "functional" part.

And a poverty mil-spec charging handle for $13 from primary arms.

The same $70 polytac and Mount combo as on the total poverty tier.

And we're going to wrap it out with a primary arms 2.5x32mm prism scope. Currently on sale for $160.

That leaves us with $57, which is really great, because you'll notice that I have a 13.9 in barrel. So I have to spend $45 at my local gunsmith to have him pin and weld my comp on.

You'll note I'm not changing the PSA dagger, because that's actually a really good gun, and if you want a basic glock you should buy one of those instead. And there you go. An actually legitimately good rifle, pistol, and chest rig battle rattle.

Gun game, Impoverished infantry mode:

You have $1000 dollars to get a pistol, rifle, optics and kit.

Go.

[starksinner]

Predator Eats Prey - 2

Summary: After a day of waiting and wanting, Arthur finally snaps and reminds you that you're his in the most delicious way.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Rough Sex, Public Sex, Jealousy, Slight Exhibitionism

Chapter 1

The bricks of the police station were sharp and hard against your back.

Maybe it was the midnight air, the conversations of police officers right around the corner, or the brooding and rough cowboy that was thrusting his cock into you; you’d never felt so raw, and dangerous, and alive.

You don’t know how Arthur had kept his restraint all afternoon. Every time you turned your back from him, looking over a display of fruit or examining the price of a large slab of meat, you felt him hovering behind you; his hard cock pressing into your back, into your side, into everywhere.

You were as wanting as he was, the wetness in your underwear becoming a nuisance more than a casual reminder of your desire.

As hours passed and the afternoon light faded into the evening’s sunset, Arthur still hadn’t made any mention of his prominent problem. He just walked along like the large, intimidating cowboy that he was, keeping you by his side as you clamoured over to the gunsmith’s shop.

You were becoming restless, needy, and just fucking irritated.

Your skin was burning and alight, those constant and consistent little touches he made against your waist only fueling the fire. After hours of feeling his fingertips brush against you, all you wanted to do was to punch that calm and collected expression straight off your boyfriend's goddamn face.

“I wan’ a drink,” you told him, saddling up on your silver Missouri Fox Trotter. With a tight grip on your new Bolt Action Rifle, he turned around and shot you an impatient look. “C’mon, Arthur.”

“Fine.”

Pouty, little cowboy, he was.

You followed behind as he led you two blocks over from where you were, coming up on a building-side bar with its door cracked open — laughter, light, and cigar smoke emanating from the inside.

Silently, the both of you hitched your horses out front and double-checked the placement of your weapons in an almost military-like fashion.

“You know how to use all them guns, little lady?”

You turned your head and narrowly examined the group of men huddled near the bar’s entrance, cigarettes in their mouths and eyes glowing with something akin to mischievousness.

“Yeah, I do,” you snapped, moving closer to them and resting your right hand against the pistol strapped to your hip. The audacity of men never ceased to amaze you. “You wanna see?”

Your indignation must have been humorous to them with the way they held their bellies and laughed. Arthur stood silent and stoic by your side, watching everything unfold. That only served as ignition to your ever-growing rage.

“You best keep your lady in line, bub,” one man began. He was tall and slender, yet handsome and intimidating. The only thing on your mind was breaking his nose and ruining those pretty-boy features of his for good. “If you can’t, me and present company sure don’t mind doin’ it for ya.”

“You best walk away,” Arthur seethed. Now you noticed it: the heat radiating from him, the hoarseness of his voice. He was pissed-the-fuck off. “An’ keep them wanderin’ eyes to yourselves.”

“Can’t stop a man from lookin’,” he replied smoothly. The man’s brown eyes met yours before his gaze fell to your chest and down your figure, a small grin peeking out from the corner of his lips. “There’s sure a lotta’ good things to look at.”

Your gun was pointed at the man's face before he could even finish speaking. The henchmen jumped to their leader's attention and aid, their eyes wide and hands twitching as they reached for their own weapons. Before any more words could be dealt or bullets could be fired, Arthur had your wrist in his vice grip and made a scene of dragging you straight down the street.

You were shouting now, panting and yelling at him to ‘hold the fuck up’ and ‘let the hell go’ of you. He wasn’t stopping and he wasn’t listening. He was dragging you like a broken fucking ragdoll and all you could do was take it.

Like a brute, he shoved you against a brick wall of a wide alleyway and held you against it. Breathing heavily, his body shaking, his eyes shut: you admired the way his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks and the way his lips were plush, wet and just slightly parted.

Despite his beauty, you were still enraged, irritated, and just fucking horny.

You needed him bad.

“You shoulda’ let me take him,” you breathed, huffing as he remained silent. “Open your mouth and fuckin’ look at me.”

You always loved Arthur’s eyes. That ocean blue that held a thousand waves, a thousand memories, a thousand ways to look into you and love you.

Now that ocean blue held the brutality of a deadly storm, so dark and so thundering. He looked like a man possessed, his gaze dark and chest heaving.

He was going to consume you and you were going to let him.

No matter how many times he fucked you, Arthur was always a stretch.

You were whining and grunting as he shoved himself into you over and over and over again.

With his fingers digging into your thighs, the brick scraping against your back, and your heart pounding in your ears: everything fell into the perfect balance of raw pain and beautiful, blinding pleasure.

“Fuckin’ take it, girl,” he grunted, pressing his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out without a care in the world and ground your hips harder into his. “Thas’ right. Take all of me. I’m the only one that gets to fuck you like this, yeah?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, burying your face against his neck. You were licking, and biting, and scratching every part of him as he took you higher and higher. “I’m yours, Arthur. I fuckin’ swear it.”

“Mine,” he confirmed, slapping his hand against your mouth as you let out a particularly loud cry. Your cunt was spasming and you hadn't even come yet. “Better quiet down, girl. You ain’t want the law to find me fuckin’ you like this, do ya?”

You whimpered and whined against his hand as his cock began pounding into your sweet spot, jolting your body forward and sending you completely alight.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praised, your eyes meet his. The shit-eating grin he gave you was a smug confirmation of just how much he was enjoying this. “Only mine to look at. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin.”

Your pouty, jealous cowboy and his filthy fucking mouth.

You came around him and nearly lost yourself in the process: your mind broken and blank, your limbs heavy and numb.

“My good fuckin’ girl.”

Arthur grunted and groaned as he pulled out and spilled himself on your thigh, cradling your body against his as he carefully brought himself down from his high. You were both a tangle of heavy breaths and whispers, your sweaty and come-stained bodies completely desecrating the wall of the police station.

“Arthur,” you sighed, trying to wrap your arms around his neck. “M’gonna fall…”

“I gotchu,” he promised, helping you pull your legs more securely around his waist. You felt his lips tickle the shell of your ear as he began murmuring to you a series of soft, sweet praises. “My girl...did so well for me, yeah? So good for me.”

You let yourself be serenaded with his words, nearly falling into a deep slumber as your breathing began to level out and Arthur began to gather your slick onto his fingers.

“Someone’s gonna see us,” you warned, squirming from the feeling of his fingers teasing your sensitive folds.

“Just fuckin’ let them,” he grunted, licking off remnants of your wetness from his own hand. “I’m the only one that’s ever gonna be feelin’ you like this.”

[tigerkirby215]

Building Hank before Consternation (Madness Combat build errata)

(Artwork by OctoCryptik on Newgrounds.)

My initial build for Hank, while effective at capturing all of Hank’s abilities (and a good build in its own right imo) is... quite messy, admittedly. There’s a very big shift in Hank’s abilities after his death in Madness 7 and revival in Madness 9 and while I tried to capture the pre-revival Hank as much as possible in my build there’s no way to take the Armorer subclass without immediately buying into the flavor.

Truthfully if I were to play Hank in a campaign with as much accuracy and representation as possible I’d consider Madness 7 Hank and Madness 9 Hank as two different characters (same name different build) with the revival machine essentially being a way to bring back an old character after their death and swap their build. (Hell you could even play Deimos until reviving Hank.)

I think that if you want to play a post-Madness 9 Hank then the original build I made is quite good but to play a pre-Madness 7 Hank I’d give him wildly different abilities. So here’s another build that won’t be made as detailed as my usual ones but will still give a level by level analysis of how to build Hank... again!

GOALS

I still basically want a build that can use all weapons and is really good at using them. I also still want some stealth abilities.

RACE

Still a Variant Human, with +1 in DEX and CON. Take whatever language you want and the Medicine skill to patch yourself up.

For your feat talk to your DM about getting a Repeating Hand Crossbow or otherwise being able to ignore the loading property on a Hand Crossbow. If they’re willing to give you a handgun (or let you ignore the Loading property via the Gunner feat) grab the Gunner feat for obvious reasons. However if they’re not willing to let you use a Hand Crossbow without having to reload it I’d suggest the Sharpshooter feat instead.

Why aren’t we taking Crossbow Expert? Well you won’t be able to use the Bonus Action much for reasons that will be illustrated in the build. Other than that you don’t need the ability to shoot in melee range (you’ll have weapons and your fists) which means the only ability of value you’d get from Crossbow Expert is the ability to ignore the Loading property, which isn’t worth losing a potential ASI. Better to grab Sharpshooter early and use something other than a Hand Crossbow.

ABILITY SCORES

Hello Standard Array my old friend! Since this build isn’t nearly as MAD (ironic) you can afford to go for Standard Array! But of course feel free to roll for stats if you so desire or use point buy.

15; DEXTERITY - You’re still going to be focusing on guns, and you’ll be able to use your DEX for a lot more weapons in this build.

14; WISDOM - Still used for Perception and Survival, and is far more useful for this build than the other one.

13; CONSTITUTION - It’s good to not die and you don’t need the other stats as much.

12; STRENGTH - In case you grab a Strength weapon you aren’t proficient in.

10; INTELLIGENCE - Strength felt more important than Intelligence.

8; CHARISMA - You’re still a psychopathic mass-murderer.

BACKGROUND

Same background as last time: Criminal with Intimidation, Slight of Hand, and Land Vehicle proficiency.

Apparently if you don’t have Thieves’ Tools proficiency (from Artificer lol) you get it from the Criminal background? That works really well for us too.

(Artwork by DonCroco on Newgrounds.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - MONK 1

Starting off as a Monk so you can actually throw a punch and dodge attacks while actually unarmored. Take proficiency with Acrobatics and Stealth (why the hell do Monks get Stealth proficiency?) and Smith’s Tools, under the context that they’re gunsmith tools.

The fun thing about Monk is that simple weapons honestly cover most of Hank's weapons (club, quarterstaff, hand axe, etc) so you can use most of them with DEX thanks to Martial Arts.

LEVEL 2 - MONK 2

Second level Monks get second level Monks stuff. Told you this build would be a lot more basic than usual. Dedicated Weapon from Tasha’s will let you add more weapons to your repertoire, along with your subclass.

LEVEL 3 - MONK 3

Go Kensei because that’s the weapon Monk. Take either tool that you want (doesn’t really matter), a Battleaxe (reflavored as the stop sign Hank used to kill Tricky in Madness Combat 3), and either a Hand Crossbow (reflavored Pistol) or an actual pistol if your DM allows it.

LEVEL 4 - MONK 4

4th level Monks get an ASI: increase your DEX by 2 as that's your main stat.

LEVEL 5 - MONK 5

5th level Monks get an Extra Attack. Also Stunning Strike and stuff, but we’re here for Extra Attack. Remember that you can’t attack twice with a Hand Crossbow without Crossbow Expert, because it’s a crossbow.

LEVEL 6 - MONK 6

6th level Monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes and One with the Blade to bypass Magic Resistance mainly. Deft Strikes also lets you aim for the head.

You can also get another Kensei weapon: grab the Longbow (finally) which will be reflavored as all your rifles... unless you can actually grab a gun.

LEVEL 7 - RANGER 1

Hope you didn’t think this would be straight Monk. Grab Perception proficiency from multiclassing and Acrobatics Expertise from Deft Explorer, along with two languages. Also grab Favored Foe to aim for the head, because Favored Enemy is meh (can’t choose more than two types of humanoids which is basically all you fight) and you can actually afford to concentrate on Favored Foe... Even if the damage is bad.

LEVEL 8 - RANGER 2

Second level Rangers get their Fighting Style: yeah go for Archery because that fits the best. Dueling also works if you opt to play with gun and sword (or more realistically gun and knife.)

You also get Spellcasting: yeah take Hunter’s Mark lol Favored Foe is bad. Other than that? I dunno take Cure Wounds to bandage yourself up in a pinch?

LEVEL 9 - RANGER 3

Third level Rangers get to choose their archetype and it’s me ya boii Gloom Stalker. Same stuff as last time: be better at hiding, get darkvision, get ambushing powers, get Disguise Self as an innate spell.

Also go for Primal Awareness because Primeval Awareness is still bad and Speak with Animals is genuinely more useful. You also get another spell: take like Jump idk all I really want is Hunter’s Mark.

LEVEL 10 - RANGER 4

4th level Rangers get another Ability Score Improvement: time to cap that Dexterity!

LEVEL 11 - MONK 7

So like, every level after this is Monk lol. 7th level Monks can dodge rockets with Evasion.

LEVEL 12 - MONK 8

More ASIs: go for Wisdom now because your Dexterity is maxed out, and Wisdom boosts your skills as well as your AC.

LEVEL 13 - MONK 9

Use the improbability drive to walk on walls and water!

LEVEL 14 - MONK 10

Become immune to disease! Probably a bit late for that but still cool!

LEVEL 15 - MONK 11

You can use Sharpen the Blade to turn your weapon into a +1, +2 or +3 weapon by spending Ki now which is pretty nuts. You can also pick another Kensei Weapon like a Longsword (as seen in Madness Combat 5.)

LEVEL 16 - MONK 12

Wisdom.

LEVEL 17 - MONK 13

Lol like you’re going to be the one talking with your 8 in Charisma.

LEVEL 18 - MONK 14

Here’s the big one: enjoy proficiency in all Saving Throws!

LEVEL 19 - MONK 15

You can’t age, much like Newgrounds. Everything there is fresh to this day, just waiting to be revived.

LEVEL 20 - MONK 16

Just cap your Wisdom as your capstone.

You’re probably wondering why I didn’t take Tavern Brawler: the only improvised weapons Hank really uses are a metal pipe (Madness 4, 6, and 7) and a dude’s head once in Madness Combat 6. Truthfully I’d consider a pipe a glorified Quarterstaff and you’re not going to be ripping people’s heads off in D&D combat. Yes one could argue that the stop sign is technically an Improvised Weapon but both you and Tricky have used it so much it’s essentially become a proper martial weapon for both of you.

Ultimately improvised weapons come up so rarely in 5e combat it’s not worth taking a feat for it. We took it in the original build mainly to get Unarmed strike damage, and being able to beat a man with another man’s head was an added bonus.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

This build is far more focused than the original one, with far fewer dud levels. It lets you become a slaughterhouse fast and is honestly far more proficient with weapons than the original build. You also get 20 AC and +10 to initiative thanks to Gloomstalker, which is cool.

CONS

You don’t get god tier stats like with Artificer, but Artificer kinda cheats tbf. You also don’t have as much spellcasting, and while Hunter’s Mark will carry you far you won’t be able to use it all the time. By far the biggest problem is the limited resources of this build however: limited Ki, limited ammo for your ranged weapons (assuming you don’t get a Repeating Weapon), and notably you can only attack once with a Hand Crossbow if you choose to use one. This build would be really good with an Artificer ally to give you a Repeating Hand Crossbow, or a cool DM who lets you ignore the Loading property for the sake of aesthetic. But I mean you can also use a boomerang or darts or something tbh.

So thank you for joining me for this simultaneously detailed and simplified errata. I hope you can navigate the Monk class without me detailing everything to you!

(Artwork by Neentandoo on Newgrounds.)

[guigz1-coldwar]

'A job to do' : an new chapter for "The woman with an strange name" is out !

Chapter Summary : It's time for the sheriff & Bell to honor their invitation tonight at the mayor's house, still wondering what it could be about.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart , @smokeywhalee (If anyone want to be added, feel free to tell me, same thing for my main fic "Redemption of an Spirit in an Cold War')

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That kiss was something that Bell didn't expect at all when she, along with the help of the sheriff Azoulay, saved miss Park from these two undercover mexicans in that alley. Blushing was something usual after that kind of gesture but Bell was having thoughts about herself after that kiss. It was mostly thoughts & questions about how she was feeling about everything....about herself...like if it did start an internal crisis inside of her about her feeelings.

It maybe took 2 minutes for the sheriff to actually be able to get miss Bell out of her thoughts in that alley and then, to walk away from it. To say, he was still curious of an lot of things him too after this event but it quickly fade away to be focused back on the new situation : the two have to go now to Adler's house as the day was ending, getting replaced by the evening. The two needed to be prepared for anything.

"You're still thinking of it ?" The sheriff spoke up as him & Bell were slowly walking into the direction of the mayor's house, taking their time. He was still seeing that confused face on her, causing him to ask that question.

"Uhm....yeah, why ?" She replied in an low voice, her face still blushing.....hell, she was thinking that nothing could have removed that blushing on her face and she needed to remove it quick before both arrive near the house.

"It was just an thankful kiss, miss Bell." The sheriff said, thinking it was an bit of an overreaction that she did to that.

"I know but...." She started, covering her face with her hands and looking away. "It put me some questions inside of me." She added, telling him of the last situation.

"What sort of questions ?" He asked her in an curious tone.

"I don't know but I can't talk about it." She responded, refusing to talk about these questions she got in the back of her brain that is maybe questioning things about herself, she couldn't raise her voice for that. "It's better that we...get focus on that invitation." She affirmed as the two were arriving at an few meters from the portal separating them from the house they were invitated, guarded by 4 armed men with rifle and revolvers.

"Adler's guests arrived, it seems." One of the armed men started, looking like the chief of those keeping this portal protected day & night.

"We're here like he said." The sheriff told him as the chief was gesturing to his boys to get near them.

"Frisk them, boys." He ordered in an clear voice, one man starting to search Lazar from any hidden weapons the two could possess but the only armed person here was Bell herself. She couldn't hide two Modele 1899 & an Colt Single Action Army inside her shirt or her pants while two men were frisking her and to be honest, she was mostly thinking that these two guys were taking their time to do so....admiring her 'assets' but she wasn't stupid, having sense that at the start of their frisking.

"You're enjoying my ass, perverts ?" She demanded in an half-angered voice, arms & legs spread as she was knowing that one of the men that were frisking her was just near the place she just mentioned.

"No...I do not..." The guy that was doing that tried to protest but his voice and gestures was already betraying him at the second he speak up.

"Sure, you do." She muttered, looking at the chief as the two assigned to frisk her removed their both hands off her, leaving her to breath freely for an minute.

"You will give up your guns when you will enter inside the house." The chief of the guards told the sheriff & Bell, opening the portal behind him to let them enter the property. "Walter, Hunter, you keep them under control until they're at the front door." He ordered, talking to the one who responded to Bell about her statement and the one who checked up the sheriff before the two, accompanied by the guards could pass, walking to get to the front door and this time, greeted by Adler's lieutenant, Jason Hudson, on the porch of the big house

"So, here's the sheriff and this....miss Bell." He exclaimed, holding his belt with his hands, looking at them both. "You know that I have to take your guns for the moment, they will be given back to you once you leave." He explained, causing Bell, the only armed person here, to unbuckle her three guns off their holstlers, holding the three in one hands but she predicted things by removing the two mags of her two Modele 1899 to be careful, keeping them with her.

"You better not doing anything with them." She warned Hudson, handing over her guns to him in an very clear voice, no one fucks with her guns.

"Okay." Hudson chuckled, rolling his eyes around before opening the front door of the house, letting them inside. "Follow me !" He ordered as Bell & the sheriff was discovering the entrance of the house, a bit amazed as it was their first time in that place.

That house was very different from every house & building in Redemption and the style of it could already be seen by looking at the entrance. Looking very modern and like those houses back in the East, mostly habited by rich people as everything was looking pretty new and shiny but the two weren't here to discuss about that house. Hudson make them follow him upstairs to join Adler's office, passing through the guards inside until they arrived at his office.

"Russ, here they are !" Hudson opened the door of Adler's office as he was sit on his desk, looking to have awaited all day on it for this moment to happen.

"Ah, my friends, take an seat." Adler greeted them, getting up from his desk as he pointed to the two seats in front of his desk before walking to get sit on his own behind it. "You can go now, Hudson." He said, causing Hudson to close the door and leaving the trio alone

"Why are we here ?" The sheriff demanded in an curious voice as he was sitting down.

"If it's only to dispose of us, you could have make it in public !" Bell stated, mixing between joking and been totally serious about the subject, doing the same thing as the sheriff, sitting down on their chair.

"Oh no, I'm not going to do that unless you make me no choices to do so." He exclaimed, putting his arms crossed on his desk, looking at her with curiosity. "Before starting to talk business, I have heard from Park that you saved her from mexicans." He revealed to both of them, explaining their exploits they did earlier.

"Yes, Adler but miss Bell was the one to do everything, I was just here to help." The sheriff reaffirmed that to him directly, not wanting to share the credits despite the good action he did. "It's her who managed to save her, not me."

"And that's an good thing." Adler reassured them as Bell was an bit disturbed to be the only one to congrats here, the sheriff did save Park too. "But the thing is...why your eyes are getting on my wife, miss Bell ?" He asked her in an serious voice, wanting to know why an woman was looking at his wife...

"I don't know, there's things we can't resist to look at." She answered, true in her words as it was an mean to say his rule to not put eyes on his wife was pretty stupid at its best. "I was just....curious." She added to her response to him.

"Curiosity ?" He whispered, tapping his hands on his desk at an slow rate, looking at the both of them in from of it. "That's an word that has been in my head at the moment I heard that an stranger was making noises in my town." He confessed, remembering that moment when he saw her in that saloon two days ago.

"I guess that this word is what we got all in common." The sheriff scoffed, trying to appease the situation by looking at the glare of each other.

"Maybe you're right but anyway...." Adler took an deep breath, thinking that it was better to not talk about this anymore, his wife wasn't the subject here, not his 'property'. "Let's get down to business, shall we ?" He proposed as the two nodded to him quickly. "As you witnessed, it seems that we got an lot of problems coming from an mexican gang at the south."

"I also got....well, I helped the gunsmith to make an delivery and we got jumped by mexicans." Bell explained, now knowing that the things Adler wanted to talk was about them.

"I know : an soldier came to give me the news." He gestured at her, meaning that he was already aware of that event. "To be brief, we're having confrontations with an mexican gang leaded by an woman and we're trying our best to wipe them out."

"And what do you want, exactly ?" The sheriff questioned him, wanting to get straight to the subject.

"I want....you to make her your new deputy." Adler replied, making them both eyes going wide.

"What ?" Both said in unison, stunned by those words.

"I know that you won't join us like that but I was thinking of letting you back to exerce your job as sheriff." Adler told him, his voice saying the truth as Bell was trying to figure out if he was joking or not....he wasn't joking...."You two can help to 'reassure' the people in town with the law." He continued, watching the two still stunned.

"You want me to take back the post you took away from me ?" Adler nodded to the sheriff's question and an sense of delight was coming inside of the sheriff.

"Of course, you will be at my orders and will help us against the mexicans." He said, removing the delights from both of us in the inside, it was sure that this proposition wasn't going to be fully good for them. "It's an offer that you can't really refuse." He warned them, joining his hands together.

"So, I become an deputy but we're working unofficialy for you ?" Bell suggested the idea about the situation to the mayor and he nodded.

"Exactly...so, what do you think ?" He asked both of them, causing the two to look at each other, unsure of what they could say to Adler in response, it was an risky thing to do and like he said to them, they couldn't really refuse it, knowing that bad things can happen in any occasions if they both refuse.

"Well....I'm okay with it." Azoulay responded, giving his approval as Bell nodded, joining him in his thought, giving Adler what he wanted : the two under his control.

"Good choice." He proclaimed, an smile on his face as he got up from his chair wanting to shake hands with the two and they did even if the two weren't pleased in fact by that. "To celebrate that, why don't you join for dinner ? I'm inviting you both." He proposed and the two, knowing they can't refuse again, nodded. "Good, let's go eat." He ordered to follow them outside, leading the way to the dinner room.

They couldn't know in what shit did they just put themselves to and it was too late to back down but for them, they both knew that he was now controlling them fully by reinstating Azoulay as an real sheriff and miss Bell as his deputy, they were now working with him and nothing else. They followed him to the dinner room where in fact, they weren't going to eat only the three of them : there were also miss Park and his lieutenant Hudson.

The dinner was prepared by maids that was in fact, wives of some of Adler's mens and during all the dinner, it was likely small conversations and those who were making it was mostly Hudson, Adler & Azoulay despite the animosity between the gang of the sheriff. It was really weird for him to have an perfect & normal discussion with Adler & Hudson without raising the voice and Bell....she wasn't the one to spoke up during the whole dinner, mixed between staying behind but also....she was trying to avoid miss Park at sight....without avail.

She was still having that picture in her head : reliving that kiss she was given by miss Park on the cheek in that alley and it was really strange for her to be honest. She couldn't know how she needed to feel about this, even the sheriff tried to put senses on her, saying that was just an thankful kiss for having saving her but it did put an lot of questions in Bell's mind. Was it love ? No....Bell....she wasn't the one to feel something like this in her life but....she couldn't know what to think....

When the dinner ended, Bell didn't even moved her lips to make an word go out of her mouth during the whole dinner, letting the conversation to the sheriff, still juggling by her own questions in head and the strange dinner she was having with Adler. Hudson was already out of the table, going back to the entrance, leaving only the sheriff, miss Park, Bell & Adler in the dinner room for discussions.

"So, miss Bell, you're pretty silent !" Adler remarked to her, breaking her out of her thoughts at where she was sit....it's true that her discretion was seen from the start of dinner for him.

"Uhm...yeah." She muttered, looking back at him in an quick move, still scared to have someone talk to her like that.

"I've been wondering about the origins of your name : Bell." He started, holding his head with his left hand, his arm on the chair armrest as everyone was looking at Bell. "Tell me, where did it come from ?" He asked directly, very curious, an question also floating in his mind.

"My former name was stolen." She replied in the second to him, more fast than she could draw out her own guns as everyone was listening, including miss Park. "I never lived with an real name for an large part of my life because someone stole it." She added, taking an quick look to Adler before her eyes drifted to look for an second to miss Park and then, down. "So, I made Bell my name."

"Who stole it, miss Bell ?" Miss Park demanded, really worried about the woman at an few steps from her.

"I don't know to be honest." Bell responded in an low voice. "I hope that I can found that person soon." She affirmed, passing her hands through her redhead hair.

"And maybe, we can help you with that." Adler proposed his help, causing Bell to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why not ?" She grinned at him, putting her hands on her lap to hear that he will maybe help her....that's maybe an first in her life to hear that someone was going to help her with that subject. "But that's not the subject here."

"You're right, miss Bell." Azoulay admitted as he saw that this subject wasn't pleasant to talk before he made an cough, covering his mouth with his hands.

"I know and you're right." Adler reassured both of them, an gesture of his hand, also seeing that Bell didn't want to talk more about it. "The most important here now is what you will do soon." He continued, getting looked by everyone in the room. "We have an job to do !" He spoke up, reaffirmed his will but....that phrase....it seems to have provoke something inside of Bell...feeling suddenly dizzy and not well, at the verge of passing out.

"You're alright, miss Bell ?" Park asked as she was the first one to see that declining state of Bell.

"No..." Bell breathed, looking down at her feets, trying to get better but nothing was going to help her here. "I'm sorry but I have to go." She told to everyone, going up of her chair rapidly and walking to get out of the room, not wanting to stay here any seconds now, everyone worried and confused about what was happening. She walked back to the entrance of the house, seeing Hudson near an table where her guns were.

"Did he asked you that you can leave ?" Hudson demanded in an harsh tone but she didn't respond, taking quickly her guns back in her holstlers.

"No but I'm leaving, I'm not well." She answered without lying, finishing to put back her Colt Single Action Army into its holstler before stepping out of the house, no one actually wanting to stop her.

She knew that she couldn't only step outside and coming back, she needed to go back to her room rapidly before she pass out in front of everyone. The guards at the portal let her pass, not wondering that she wasn't allowed to leave until Adler ordered her & the sheriff too but no one wouldn't do an thing actually. Everyone knew of what she could do if they go in her path....someone did know that well an day earlier.

Her walk...it was really fast but her vision was troubling her along the way, urging her to walk faster. She wasn't feeling well at all, hearing that phrase in her ears that was like ringing like proper bells, she wasn't controlling it and no one couldn't controlling it, she needed to rest. She entered the hotel room after walking in the middle of the main road, not even taking an moment to salute the rude receptionist and she entered her hotel room, closed the door behind her before falling hardly on her bed, breathing heavily and sweating on her face, she wasn't well....

Something was wrong with that phrase and her state showed it well !

[chosendestiny]

Wolf's awakening: Chapter 2

The trip to the city was quiet. The Guardian sat in her seat, with a distant look plastered on her face. It's been an hour or so since Ghost got the jumpship driving, and she didn't use this chance to sleep.  Her Ghost transmatted to her shoulder as he went to man the controls. Once he finished with that, he flew to her line of view. "I suppose you have questions." She nods as a response. "What am I?" She asks. "You are a Guardian. You protect the last city and the solar system from the Darkness." He chirps. "And what are the Fallen?"  "The Fallen are Scavengers - alien pirates picking at humanity's remains. There are different types of Fallen." Ghost shows various holographic imagines of the types of Fallen she met already; The shank, vandal, the Captain, and finally, the Archon. Ghost told her, "You already know about the Dreg, so I left them out."  As Ghost showed her the images of the Fallen, he explained their rank and who they were. The shank are drones used by the Fallen. They are used as scouts, fire support, and even a distraction. The stronger Fallen is a Vandal. They're stronger and in a higher class than the Dreg. Next was the Captain, they command of the Fallen Crew. Ghost showed the final image to the awoken. "And finally, this is the Archon. The one you saw before I transmatted you to the jumpship. They are the high priests of the Fallen." With that, his optic flickered, stopping the holographic presentation. "You got that, right?" She nods once again. "I can't believe I actually found you." He says. If he could smile with such happiness, he would. Ghost soon made a chirping sound as he looked out the window. He looked happy in a way. The little Ghost then turned to face his Guardian. "Now, we're about to reach the city," He said pleasantly. The jumpship continued soaring throughout the sky, driving towards a storm of thunder and lightning. As the ship maneuvered itself across the mountains, the clouds cleared, it glides into the light of the morning. And in front of the jumpship was a mountain range. The sight was beautiful. She wishes that she never gets tired of this view, hoping that this sight would always stay spontaneous. Soon later, Ghost and his Guardian saw an immense city sat below an enormous tower, so tall it nearly brushed the clouds. Floating above the city was this huge sphere.  The Guardian points at the sphere then turned to her Ghost. "That's the Traveler. It's the source of our light." He says. He faces his Guardian as he watched her look at everything with amazement, she reminds him of the children from the City. After the jumpship circled the large tower, it stopped above the platform. The Guardian and her ghost transmatted from within the ship to a large plaza area. She looked up in the sky to see her jumpship fly away, and then she looked at her Ghost. "Welcome to the last safe City on earth. The only place the Traveler can still protect." Ghost's optic fixated at the Traveler. The awoken looked at the Traveler while attentively listening to her Ghost. He turned to face his Guardian, floating a few inches away from her face. "It took centuries to build. And now... We're counting every day it stands." He shot to the other side. "And this tower is where the Guardians live." The awoken looks around to see some people wear armour, while some people were wearing regular clothing. She had gotten a few stares from guardians and some workers. She thought that it might be because she was new. As she made her way around the plaza, she's heard mutters and whispers. "Do you think-?" "It can't be." "I thought she died.." "She's still alive!" "She looks different than how I remembered her." She decided to ignore it, thinking that it was meant for someone else. The awoken saw a small building with a robot inside. Her eyebrows pinched slightly as she narrowed her eyes towards the robot. "That's Kadi 55-30. She is the postmaster in the Tower. If you have any mail, lose any weapons or armour then you can go to her. Someway, somehow, she always has it ready

for you to pick up." She nods as confirmation.  "The Tower is run by a group called the Vanguard. They lead the three different classes: Hunter, Titan, and Warlock. You go to them to pick which class you'll be in, then you report to whichever class you pick. But if you ask me - I think you're a hunter. Based on how you fought the Fallen." Ghost continues. His tracker led his Guardian down the small yet wide flight of stairs. Down the stairs, there was a bunch of guardians there who were running and jumping around. She came to a halt once she saw a wall in front of her, and on either side of the wall were two short sets of stairs leading out to a hall. She went towards the right side of the wall, and the hall led to a large room with an entire wall of glass. In the room, there was a huge table with three guardians standing around it. It must be the Vanguard that Ghost told her about. Ghost drifted towards the three Guardians and circled them simultaneously. They shifted their attention from Ghost to the Guardian as she approached them. Their expression on her looked as if they saw something familiar, especially the one with the cape. He was about to open his mouth to say something but closed it instead. He put his finger over his mouth for a moment as if he was trying to find the right words to say, then clasped his hands together. "Well, hey there, stranger. Welcome to the tower. I'm guessing you're a hunter, but I might be a bit biased here." He says with a smile. She tilts her head, slowly processing what he said, and nods as a response.  "Excuse, Cayde. He seems a little excited to meet new guardians." The dark-skinned Guardian says. "He believes that he can tell who'll be a hunter." "Hey! I'm right almost all the time.. But hey, no pressure in picking your class." He assures the awoken Guardian before him. "I'm guessing your Ghost has informed you about the classes?" The woman asks. She nods as a response. “Guardian, this is the Vanguard. Ikora Rey, Zavala, and Cayde-6." ghost chimed. "Cayde leads the Hunter class, I lead the Warlock class, and Zavala, the Titan class. Hunter specializes in stealth and athletics. Warlocks have their knowledge, and Titans have their strength.” Ikora quickly explained. "Nice to meet you all." The Guardian quietly says. Ikora kindly smiles. "likewise, Guardian." "Have you picked your class yet?" The Titan, who the guardian believes is named Zavala asked. The awoken nods sheepishly. "My ghost says I should join the hunter class." Cayde did a little fist pump in the air. "Yes!" "You should've seen her. She was like woosh- boom! She was so agile!" Ghost exclaims. Ikora chuckles quietly, then faces the hunter. "Cayde, you know what to do. She's your responsibility. Teach her everything she needs to know." "Don't worry. She's in safe hands." He says as he motioned the young hunter over to him. She listened. "So, rookie. Do you have a name I can call you by?" He asks her. She looks over to Ghost, then back at Cayde. Ghost sighs, drifting close to Cayde. "Uh, she doesn't remember anything. Not even a name."  The two looked at the Guardian, who was nodding in agreement. "I see.. Well, you should make a name for yourself." He says. Cayde puts his hands over his eyes, slowly moving his hands apart from one another. "So, imagine this. You hunt down the enemies. You kill them and leave. The boss'll come to see them dead, then be like 'who did this?!'" Cayde continues as he deepens his voice. Then he turned to the other side on his knees. "I-it was The Guardian, sir." "The Guardian, eh? I'll just have to deal with this myself." Cayde's little play finished with a small bow and earned a small giggle from the young hunter. He got back up, and handed her a chest piece. "Take this, kid. It's wild in the woods, ya know. Make sure to keep your eyes clear." She nods and takes the chest plate, but it disappeared before she can try it on. "I thought you were gonna call her 'the Guardian'." Ghost argued. "No, I'll call her, kid. They'll call her the

Guardian. Get your facts checked, little ghost." Cayde points at Ghost. The little orb rolled his optic and looked at his guardian. "We should go see Banshee. I believe he has a gun for us." Ghost insists. "Wait, lemme see your gun." Cayde says. She hands him her auto rifle and watches Cayde examine it. "Wow, this gun's a mess. Kudos to you for making it out of the Cosmo with this thing. You'll definitely need a new gun from Banshee." He says as he gives the young hunter the gun back. The young hunter waved off before she ran left. Cayde waved her farewell as he watched her leave. "You don't think that was-" He sighs. "It's her. But you heard her Ghost, she doesn't remember anything." "And we'll keep it that way. You know the rules," Zavala interrupts. "I know, I know," Cayde says, looking down at the map before him. ----------------------------------- She followed her Ghost's directions to see an Exo in front of her. He was cleaning weapons. "This is Banshee-44, the gunsmith." Ghost says. The Exo looked up from the stash of guns laid out in front of him. "Morning, Guardian. You're new, right? Pick a gun. I've been keeping them cleaned and prepped. Won't jam. That's important." Banshee says. The hunter looks down at the guns laid out on the table. There was a hand cannon, pulse rifle, auto rifle, and scout rifle. It took a moment, but her eyes landed on the hand cannon. She picked it up and examined it.  "That's a Duke MK.10. The impact is good. You should switch your guns." Ghost suggests, and his guardian listened. She replaced her auto rifle with the hand cannon, putting the hand cannon in her holster while Ghost transmats her auto rifle in her backpack. "Before we go anywhere, we'll need an update on our ship. It's been out of action for years. So, we should go to see Amanda next. She's a pilot, but she personally repairs and modifies guardian's ships and sparrows. She also sells some. I sent her a transmission if she could give our ship some repairs, she gladly accepted." He said. She nods with her eyes fixated on Banshee. "Thank you, Banshee." She says, then left to meet Amanda. Banshee looks up, confused as to who said that but shrugged it off. Her ghost led her to the Hangar. She looked around the area, seeing that her ship was in one of the landing pads. She walked up the stairs to see a young woman with blonde hair, who was sitting atop one of the counters. "Morning. Names Amanda Holliday. I'm the Tower's shipwright." She stated with a southern accent. She held her hand out, and the hunter shook it. "The Arcadia Class ships always were resilient. Shame about the warp drive, though. Still, luckily you didn't explode on take off! I'll see if I can take care of this piece of work, then I'll get you a new ship." The hunter frowned slightly. "Do you think you can fix it?" "Yeah, why? You wanna keep it?" She nods. "If it's alright with you." "Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it, I'll get to work. While I'm at it, head to Zavala. I sent him what you need to get for me." She nods and made her way back to the room. She runs down the stairs and walks up to the Titan. "Hello, Guardian." "Hello." The hunter replies. "You must be here about the report, yes?" Zavala asks as he held the datapad. She nods as a response. "Holliday is a skilled technician." Zavala puts the datapad down. "Your ship is fixed, however, her report says you're missing a warp drive." He activates the holopad on the war table to show the Guardian an image of the warp drive. "Is there a way we can find another one?" Ghost asks. "There should be one in the Cosmodrome. Return there, and get the replacement." "We're on it." Ghost replies. He then transmits the guardian to the jumpship and drives it off orbit.

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (3/3)

Happy New Year!! Hoping this one will be better than the last... Generally to say a year has been good or bad is a very personal consideration. This could be the first time that all people around the world agree in saying that 2020 sucked. 

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638598893496631296/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638776947069059072/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-23

Chapter 5 (3/3) - Valentine

Words: 1,9 k

Valentine was quieter that day. There were definitely fewer people wandering in the big muddy street and that was perfect according to Javier: fewer people meant fewer possibilities to be recognized, targeted or disturbed. They left the wagon where they could keep an eye on it while they had a look around and then they split: Charles went with Karen and Tilly at the saloon, while Javier, Mary-Beth and Emily walked past it.

“I need to stop by the Gunsmith. You want to wait here or…” he said as he saw the big sign painted on the top of the building.

“No, no, we come with you. I’m here for this” replied the new girl.

They crossed the street and entered the blu house. The store was poorly stocked with gun’s variety, but Javier didn’t mind it, he was there for a problem with one of his pistols and wasted no time in asking the shop-owner.

“Do you clean your weapon regularly?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Then, it can be due to the wear. You can buy a single piece or if you are interested we have a fine supply of new Cattleman Revolvers, sir. They came the other day directly from Saint Denis.”

“I’ll take the single piece.”

“As you wish, sir.”

While the shop-owner walked in the other room, Javier turned around to watch the new girl admiring a display cabinet full of Lancasters.

“I thought you was scared of guns” he said making her turn around.

“I am, when someone holds one. Here displayed and closed up, no.”

“Is there something else I can provide for you, sir? A new rifle maybe? A shotgun?” asked the owner coming back with the new piece in his hand.

“What’s the difference between a rifle and a shotgun?” asked Emily walking closer to the counter.

“Well, there are plenty of differences, Miss. The most important is that a rifle can shoot farther and with more precision than a shotgun, thanks to the little grooves of the bore.”

“Wow, it’s fascinating. What’s the most accurate rifle you’ve got?” she asked laying her elbows on the counter.

“The Carcano Sniper Rifle. This one” he replied pointing to a big firearm inside a cabinet. w“It can hit a target at a great distance without making the bullet lose it’s power.”

“For being afraid of guns you’re quite interested” joked Javier taking out his money to pay the man.

“Hey, I’m just curious. It’s always good to learn something new. Thank you, Mister. Have a good day” she said to the man before she followed Javier outside.

“So, what you want to do now?” he asked as soon as the three of them walked out of the store.

“I don’t know. Just let’s look inside the other stores, I’m really curious to know how they’re like.”

Javier sighed thinking that that trip to town was going to be useless, but he followed her anyway when she crossed the road and aimed for the doctor. They walked inside and just like before the new girl started looking around with that admiring expression of hers, just like she had never seen an apothecary before. She watched carefully all the ingredients, medicines and tools displayed in the cabinet behind the counter and from now and then she asked something to the doctor.

“Is this real laudanum?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“You know it is addictive, don’t you? It’s like a drug.”

“Yes, Miss, but with a proper dosage the addiction can be avoided.”

“If you say so” Javier heard her murmur and it made him chuckle. 

They were waiting patiently for her to finish her little tour when the door behind them opened and made the little bell above it jingle. Two men came inside, and from their look Javier was sure they weren’t there for some laudanum. And in fact, they exchanged a look with the doctor who excused himself and went to the other room followed by the two. 

Javier took a couple of steps towards the door, acting indifferent but studying the two figures and the doctor as they reached another heavy iron door in the back of the other room. The doctor knocked and a couple of eyes showed up from a little window. Then, from the other side they opened and let the two men inside. Javier turned around and pretended to look at something on the table as the doctor came back.

“Hey, what do you think he has back there?” whispered the new girl walking closer to him.

Javier narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. She had noticed the two men, too. How could it be? She was clumsy and distracted, she wasn’t paying attention and she had no idea how to find an illegal activity, and that one was clearly some kind of illegal practice the doctor was running.

“I don’t know. Something illegal, it seems. There could be some money. Maybe we’ll take a look” he replied.

“Do you want to do it now?”

“No, not now. Let’s go.”

...

They walked out of the building and decided to go to the saloon to meet the others. Charles was drinking at the bar, Karen was upstairs trying to fool a poor idiot to steal from him, Tilly was at the general store to buy something. 

“So, have you found something interesting?” asked Emily reaching Charles’s side.

“No, you?”

Since she had seen those two men walking inside the apothecary and she had understood something shady was going on there, she was thrilled to bits and couldn’t wait to tell it to someone else. 

“We found an illegal activity or something like that. Javier says we can try to rob it.”

“We?” asked Charles frowning. “Since when you’ve become a criminal?”

“Well, technically speaking, the doctor is doing something against the law, so… if we rob him, we’re doing something good. Right?”

“I guess” murmured Charles and he drank from the little glass he had in his hands.

Emily had no idea why she had said that. She didn’t believe in what she had said: illegal activity or not, robbing him was wrong. The right thing to do was go to the police… no, the sheriff, and tell him about what they had found out. But robbing him could get them some money, which they needed so desperately. 

“What are you drinking?” she asked to Charles.

“Whiskey.”

“Can I try?” she asked and looked at the man behind the bar who with a nod of his head turned around to take a bottle.

“You never had whiskey?” asked Charles

“I generally drink beer or cocktails at the parties, but never tried whiskey, no.”

“Get me one too, while you’re here, buddy” said Javier throwing a coin on the bar.

“Do you want something, Mary-Beth?” asked Emily.

“No, thank you. I’m going to check on Karen” she answered and walked towards the stairs that leaded upstairs.

The barman poured two glasses of amber liquid and served one to Emily and one to Javier who didn’t even look at it before he swallowed it. 

“Are you sure about the job thing?” she asked at the man behind the counter.

He looked at her in a way that made her understand there was no possibility to get a job there, at least not the job she wanted to get. 

“Okay, okay, sorry. I won’t ask again.”

Then, she took the little glass and just like she had seen people doing in the movies, put all the content in her mouth and down her throat. Needless to say, Charles had to pat her back and ask her if she was okay when she started coughing hard.

“Y-yes, I’m fine. Shit, this thing is strong. How can you drink it all the time?”

“We’re used to it” answered Javier.

“Hey!”

The three of them turned around to look at the man approaching the counter.

“You were here the other day, weren’t you? With the big man with the cowboy hat” he said to Emily.

“Yes, I was here, why?”

“Weren’t you looking for a job?”

Emily exchanged a look with Charles before she answered.

“Yes.”

“I’ve got a job for you, honey.”

“Really?” she asked naively.

“Right here” he said and he brought a hand to his… private parts.

Emily was used to stupid boys who played silly with her at school or at work, but no-one, no-one, had ever done something like that. She felt outraged, insulted, shameful and she had to look away as the man started to laugh with his friends.

“Hey, watch yourself, cabrón” said Javier.

“What, she’s yours? Sorry, partner, but I don’t believe such a delicate flower can go with someone like you.”

“Listen, why don’t you go back to your friends and leave us alone” replied Charles taking a step forward.

“Easy, big fella. I don’t want no problems. I just want to try the little thing here” he said with a nod towards Emily, who in the meantime had lowered her head so much that she was looking at the tip of her boots.

The men in the room laughed again and she felt her eyes sting and the shame running through her body. Then, Charles took her by her shoulders and pushed her away. 

“We wait for you by the wagon” she heard him saying to Javier.

Just like Arthur had done the day before, he led her out of the saloon and from there they reached the wagon.

“Are you okay?” asked Charles very kindly.

Emily nodded, but she dried a tear from her eye and Charles didn’t miss it.

“Don’t listen to them. There are always people like that in the world. You have to be strong and don’t mind what they say.”

Emily nodded again, as the tears started running uncontrollably. She din’t want to cry, to appear weak, but yet she couldn’t stop herself from doing it. Charles patted her on the shoulder and for her that was the go-ahead: she rounded his waist with her arms and hided her face in his chest.

Charles was surprised by the contact, but he didn’t withdraw. How could she be like that? He had never met someone so naive. Life was hard, the world was cruel and there was no escape for anyone from becoming cold, mean and heartless. So either she had lived all her life closed inside a room, or she was… Charles felt bad by thinking that, but she was a little dumb.

Tilly was the first who came back from the store and she helped Emily in recovering from the bad experience. Then, the others showed up and they all got on the wagon and rode back to camp. 

That was the second trip to Valentine and again Emily couldn’t not think that she didn’t like that place. It stank of shit, it was full of assholes and there was nothing interesting.

When they arrived, she decided to take something sweet from the kitchen to cheer herself up a little and reached Mr. Pearson who, noticing her sad face, decided to give her a chocolate bar.

She thanked him and giving it a bite she walked towards the rest of the camp passing in front of Hosea and Arthur seated at the same round table.

“So, how was Valentine?” asked the former.

Emily, looked first at him and then at Arthur.

“You were right” she said, fixing her eyes on Mr. Morgan’s face. “That saloon is no place for me.”

[elizacornwall]

Vengeance is an Idiot’s Game  - Chapter 20 - Of Sheep and Wolves

Read all the published chapters here.

-------------------------------------------------- Camp was quiet over the next couple days. With Javier gone there was no more guitar play, only the rare tunes of a banjo played by Uncle. He was an old, fat man, not unkind, but Eliza couldn’t really see why Dutch kept him around, lazing about all day. But then again so did the Reverend, and she had never questioned him either. Rising before everyone else had become somewhat of a habit to her, brewing the first pot of coffee and sitting by the drop, staring over the landscape. She enjoyed the peacefulness and solitude of the early mornings, filled with birdsong and often the bark of coyotes nearby. The canines had scared her at first, but after Arthur had lent her some binoculars to watch a pack at play, she decided they were more like dogs than wolves and grew to like them. He had sometimes sat with her in these early mornings, in quiet companionship, admiring the valley until Dutch or some other person called for him to send him off on some task. His company was much preferred to Dutch’s, Eliza wasn’t much of a talker this early in the day and that man could do her head in with his endless stream of words. This morning was no different, she sat cross legged with the hot brew in her hands taking in the scenery, the sun rising slowly behind her. She wondered how long the boys would be out. Hosea had mentioned it was only supposed to be a short mission, but what did she know about how much time ‘short’ typically meant. She surprised herself by realising she was worried. Not so much about Charles maybe, he was always good to her and of course she would be concerned about his safety, but about Arthur and Javier. Laughing quietly to herself, she supposed their good traits outweighed them kidnapping her. Turning at the sound of footsteps, she saw Tilly heading towards her, her hair dishevelled, rubbing the sleep out of her dark brown eyes.

“Miss Grimshaw is up early today, she says we need some supplies from town. You comin’ with us?” Yawning, she stopped next to Eliza, peering down to the river. “I’ll never understand why you’re about so early, starin’ out there. The view’s really the same every day”, she said, a bored tone in her voice. Eliza chuckled. “Well, there’s different animals about every day, but I see your point.” She got to her feet, finishing the rest of her coffee. A trip to town got her excited, she hadn’t been there yet herself. “Valentine, is it? Let me just change into something fitting to present myself to the outside world.” She was only wearing a light cardigan over her night gown, while that wouldn’t draw any looks here in camp, she highly doubted that would be the same with strangers. “Are we riding there?” “Heavens, no! We’ll take the carriage, much easier to load up on supplies. Sadie’s comin’ too, she said she had some errands to run.” The two girls walked back into camp where they parted. Back at her cot Eliza chose a light blue skirt and a simple white shirt, looking decent but not too flamboyant. She had her fill of fancy clothes in her life and preferred the simple elegance. That was, when she wasn’t wearing trousers. Now that she had her own pair, scavenged out of the delivery Arthur and her had stolen, she had altered them to fit nicely. Growing ever more used to wearing them, she enjoyed the freedom they provided. She met up with the other girls at the wagon, missing Molly and Abigail as it was custom by now. Sadie had already been preparing the horses when Eliza changed into her town getup, and waved at her now as she approached. She had her repeater strapped to her back and a revolver on either side of her hips, carrying them with such casual ease, Eliza couldn’t help but admire it. Mary-Beth was talking to Miss Grimshaw and going through the list of items to get with her whilst Karen and Tilly sat on the back of the wagon, both looking equally tired and disgruntled at this early start of their day. Sadie checked in with the old woman, reassuring her she’d take good care of her girls before hopping onto the driver’s seat, patting the bench next to her and looking at Eliza invitingly. “You gonna join me up here or you wanna ride with the kids in the back?” She joked, ignoring Karen’s grumbled retort, and smiled wide as the younger woman lifted herself up to take the shotgun seat. The horses were trodding on the narrow path through the trees and Mary-Beth was going through the list in her hand again, organising who would get what. She was very practically inclined and Eliza liked the rational approach she had to her chores, always trying to be as efficient as possible. “I’ll head to the doctor’s office to get the medicinal supplies, Karen and Tilly, would you mind getting the general store items? We need a ton of food and one pair of hands ain’t gonna be enough to load it onto the wagon. Eliza, Miss Adler, could you head to the gunsmith to pick up the ammunition on here?” She had carefully torn the list into three pieces, handing them out to the respective groups. Eliza glanced at hers with a light frown. Sadie steered the horse to the left as she drove out of the woods under an arch formed by a collapsed tree. “Don’t you worry Mary-Beth, we’ll get you all of them things. Just make sure ya ain’t gonna get into trouble, I don’t want to cause a ruckus if I ain’t have to!” Sadie’s tone was cheery, but she shot a warning look over her shoulder. Eliza thought it was especially directed at Karen, but wasn’t sure. The blonde girl sneered. “Oh sure, we ain’t gonna cause no trouble. Can’t promise trouble won’t find us though, usually does.” Sadie gave an exasperated sigh. “Better hope it don’t this time”, she murmured, but didn’t press the matter any further. Soon the first buildings came into view and the putrid smell of cattle filled their noses. Sadie noticed Eliza half choking, and grinned. “Yeah, it smells like a field of flowers, don’t it! It’s a livestock town, ain’t gonna get any better as we get close.” She

had slowed the horses down to a trot approaching the railroad by the station, and got them to a walk. Eliza was eyeing up the sheep perched in their pens, there must be at least a few dozen. There were people around, throwing the odd curious glance at their little troop, but apart from a few “Good mornin’”s, there wasn’t much reaction from the locals. It was all so exciting for her, after having spent the better part of the last few weeks amidst the same twenty people, barely leaving the clearing on the cliff. The wagon headed up a gentle slope between some wooden houses and turned left down the main street. It was early and there wasn’t much activity to be seen, but Eliza didn’t mind and stared at the buildings with wide eyes. Sadie halted the horses in front of the general store and dismounted from her seat. Eliza followed her but pulled her mouth into a grimace as her feet sank a good inch into the mud, dirtying her shoes and the hem of her skirt. The three girls in the wagon got up and clambered down, Tilly groaning about the bumpy ride. “Alright then ladies, let’s get this over with. We wanna make this quick so we don’t keep old Grimshaw waitin’”, Sadie announced. Karen and Tilly headed into the store, whilst Mary-Beth, Sadie and herself walked up the street where they came from, parting at the end. The two women entered the gunsmith to their right. The man behind the counter looked up from the rifle he was polishing, his eyebrows raised. “Can I help you ladies?” His eyes trailed down Sadie, lingering on the revolvers at her hip and on her trousers. “We’re here to get some cartridges”, Eliza said quickly, walking up to the counter and placing the list in front of him. Sadie wasn’t looking too impressed with his blatant staring, and she wanted to avoid an argument. “Could you get all of this for us?” His eyes fixated on her now, narrowing slightly. After a pause, he nodded. “Sure, just one moment.” He took the piece of paper and turned, carefully selecting cardboard boxes of bullets in various different sizes and shapes from the drawers in the closets. Eliza’s eyes fell on the big cat at the right end of the room, mounted motionless and looking very real. She shuddered. The man stacked up the boxes on the counter, doublechecking the list and nodding to himself. “Here, that’s all of them. Anything else she I can help you with today?” She began to shake her head, when Sadie spoke up. “Actually, there is somethin’. Have you got a revolver and gunbelt for my friend here? She needs somethin’ to protect herself.” Eliza’s eyes widened, she stared at Sadie in shock. “Sadie, I- I don’t have the money to pay for this!” The blonde met her eyes, and only shook her head, a corner of her lips lifted into a sly smile. “Take it as payback for my... Uuuh... Improved accommodations.” The store owner just looked between them, his eyes narrowing even further as Sadie winked at him. He sighed. “Of course, give me one moment. I might have something in the back.” He headed out of the room and Sadie pulled up a stack of dollar bills, looking over the interior. Eliza’s gaze still rested on her. “What?” She said, her smile widening, but she didn’t take her eyes off the rifles behind the counter. She tried to find the right words, wanting to explain that she never owned a gun and probably couldn’t even shoot it, but decided against it. It would mean she had to show weakness again. “I… Thanks, Sadie.” Eliza sighed, defeated. “My pleasure. Did ya see that big ugly cougar there in the corner?” She pointed at the cat she was looking at a moment ago. “Nasty beasts. Don’t know why anyone would wanna keep one of them lookin’ as if it’s gonna jump at ya.” She shook her head and Eliza giggled in agreement. The man reemerged from the back room, a dark leather belt and holster in one, a small revolver in the other hand. “I got a Smith & Wesson here, they’re small and easy to use. That any good?” He was looking at Eliza, and she looked at Sadie in turn. “As long as it’s shootin’ bullets, I don’t care what you give ‘er. We’ll take

it.” The clerk was adding up the numbers on his abacus and Sadie counted the dollar bills, handing him the right amount. He nodded and packed up the items in newspaper. The two women took their leave, carrying the supplies out of his shop. They arrived at the wagon where Mary-Beth was just carefully stowing away the crate of tonics and tinctures she had gotten from the doctor’s office and smiled at them, as they approached. “I’ll go help Karen and Tilly, they’re almost done in there.” Sadie placed the ammunition on the wagon and stowed the wrapped means of self defence away safely. An idea sprung to Eliza’s mind. “Would it be too much to ask for some change? I’d like to buy a paper, a boy was selling them next to the gunsmith”, she remembered. Sadie turned, confused. “The paper? Hosea run out of books for you to read?” She shook her head in disbelief but handed her some coins anyway. “I’ll come with ya, makin’ sure no one ain’t up to no good ‘round you.” The two headed back up the road, Sadie hung back in front of the gunsmith, while Eliza purchased The New Hanover Gazette, startling the poor boy with her polite conversation. She tucked it into a pocket of her skirt and was on her way back to join up with Sadie as one of the men on the porch next to her stood up and approached, slowly eyeing up the taller woman. “Oy, lady. Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Eliza froze in her spot. Sadie turned her head to look at the man that had spoken, and her hand twitched towards her hip. Her voice sounded casual, but it was different than usual, Eliza noted. “Pretty sure we ain’t met before.” Nervously, her eyes darted between Sadie and the dark haired man, he was scanning her face and attire with suspicion. He seemed to be with two friends, who now moved to stand next to him, observing her in their turn and nodding slowly to themselves. “Yeah, I know you. You’re that outlaw woman, from the posters!” Shit. Sadie laughed, seemingly unfazed. “Outlaw? I sure as hell would be stupid to wander ‘round town if I had a price on my head, don’t you think?” She turned sideways, only looking at Eliza for a split second, but the gesture of her hand she made whilst her eyes connected was clear as day. Go. She was unable to move however, as if her feet had grown roots, and watched Sadie with a thunderstruck expression as she started to walk away from the men, taking a first step down the road. “You ain’t foolin’ us woman! Now stay where you are and we ain’t gonna hurt ya!” The men moved quickly, ropes being pulled off their belts and one of them hovered his hand over his gun as they followed. It all seemed to happen so fast, but Eliza just stood and watched as if time was slowed down. The first foot of the bounty hunters dropped to the step below the porch. Sadie spun around, her blonde braid swinging behind her, suddenly wielding both revolvers in her hands, pointing them straight at the men in front of her. The few people on the street stopped what they were doing and looked onto this scene, eyes wide open. “You boys ain’t gonna hurt no one, least of all me. Now get lost ya dirty bastards”, Sadie snarled, her guns aimed without so much as a jitter at the three men. A second foot fell onto the stairs. Sadie pulled both triggers, snapping two of the guys heads backwards, making them collapse on the spot. Screaming ensued, and the people on the street scattered, and Eliza, finally ripped out of her stupor, threw herself beneath the gunsmith’s deck, peering over the wooden stairs at the scene with her heart pounding hard. Sadie and the single man left alive were stood at gunpoint, neither one willing to give in. “Give it up woman, whole town’s gonna be out in a bit, you ain’t getting out of this. Better lower your gun and come with me peacefully.” There were faces peering out of the windows all around them, he was right. How incredibly thoughtless this whole plan was, taking a wanted woman into a bustling town? Reminding herself that Sadie was the one that had come up with this, Eliza tried to make out the wagon with the rest of

the girls. It was still stood at the same spot, but there was no sign of Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth. They were probably hiding in the store, she prayed to the heavens no one would have noticed Sadie driving in with them, they’d all be in much bigger trouble as they already were. “Peacefully my ass, I ain’t gonna come with ya at all. I disposed of plenty guys just like you, thinkin’ I ain’t much of a threat just ‘cause I’m a woman.” Sadie started to back away, slowly. Her guns were both still pointed at the man’s head. “You think we’re alone? There’s more hunters here in town.” As if to prove his word, the door to the hotel further down the road was thrown open, and a handful of men spilled out onto the street, guns in their hands. Sadie muttered a bitter “Fuck” before she pulled the trigger and twirled around to face the group opposing her, before his body hit the ground. Eliza’s breath faltered when they opened fire, and Sadie dove into cover behind a wagon. The gunfire ceased and the men shouted out to her to come up with her hands raised. “You think you gonna get me this easy, you’re more stupid than you look!” She taunted, laughing. Was she enjoying this? Her eyes flicked to Eliza’s spot and she could almost see the groan escaping Sadie as she saw her. It then occurred to her that this position was less than ideal, and the woman would feel responsible for her safety. Eliza let herself fall to the floor and crawled to the side of the house, out of the line of any stray bullets. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, the familiar sensation of anxiety spread through her limbs. The newspaper boy was cowering a few feet away from her, and she realised she was still clutching the newest issue of the Gazette in her pocket. More doors slammed open and shouting reached her ear. The gunfire opened again, and there were more screams. Within it all, she thought she heard Sadie laughing. Wondering which one of them two had gone insane, she resisted the urge to peer around the corner, afraid of getting hit in the crossfire. The yelling got louder, bullets was hitting the fence at the top end of the street, and yes, that was Sadie’s rough, raspy voice, laughing between it all. She came into view in the corner of her eye, running towards a spooked horse that was tethered beside the sheriff’s office, just when the man himself came running out the door, star on his vest gleaming in the sunlight, with open breeches and wielding a gun. The gunslinger woman didn’t take any notice and jumped onto the back of the horse, momentarily shielded by the building, then her eyes locked onto Eliza. She flicked her head at her, gesturing to get going down the street. She shot up, just as Sadie started the horse into a full gallop, closing the distance between them in a second, her hand outstretched to reach down for her. Eliza took it, and she got swung onto the back of the horse, helped by the momentum. Sadie passed her one of her revolvers. “Cock the hammer and shoot, girl! Keep ‘em off us!” She yelled, and Eliza desperately tried to cling onto her, fumbling her thumb over the little metal piece to ready the revolver to shoot. Her hand shook and she clamped down on it, desperately trying not to let go, while the first gunshots were fired into her direction. Sadie sped past a barn, and she finally managed to click the hammer into place when the men came galloping around the corner towards them. She held out the gun in their direction, giving up trying to aim after a second of being shaken about, and shot. She missed and the bullet buried itself somewhere in the ground behind them. Cursing, Eliza cocked the hammer again, letting off another projectile in their direction. One of the pursuers cried out but she didn’t have the time to look who it was, in that moment Sadie yanked the horse around a tight corner and she had to grip onto her with both hands as the horses hooves risked to slip on the muddy ground. The train station whirled past in a blur and they made their way over a small hill, the ground dropping at the other side. Eliza’s

stomach lurched at the sensation and Sadie crossed a couple paths, then took a left as the men came back into view. She lifted the gun again, firing another shot in their direction, and another. Two bullets left, but there was four of them, more would be very likely coming after them soon. The horse galloped in full speed along a cliff to their right, dangerously close to the drop. “Hold on!” Sadie shouted, not a moment too early. Eliza just about wrapped her arms tightly around her when they leaned into yet another sharp right bend, thundering down a steep slope towards the riverbed. A scream, like nothing she’d ever heard before sounded from behind them, turning her head slightly she saw the massive body of a horse struggling at the bottom of the cliff. That poor thing must have been pushed into the curve too early by its rider, she felt anger flaring up inside. The path was steady enough again to turn around, firing the last two rounds, aiming more carefully now. At least one of them had hit, the rider dropping out of his saddle, before Sadie swung around herself with her repeater propped against her shoulder, and with three quick shots, she took care of the rest of them. They rode in the same hard pace until the river came in sight, crossing right over it and only slowing down when the horse struggled up a small hill covered in pines at the other side, breath going heavily. They crossed another road and the woman halted the stallion next to a wall of heavy boulders. Eliza slid off, almost falling to the ground, her legs shaking. On her hands and knees she wretched and spilled the coffee she had earlier onto the gravel beneath her. Sadie dismounted and crouched down next to the girl, her eyes scanning through the young trees surrounding them. “I don’t think there are more followin’ right now”, she hushed, her voice quiet. “You alright?” Wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, Eliza raised her chest until she sat upright, her hind resting on her heels. “B-been better”, she managed, hoarse. Her stomach was still writhing, threatening to force more liquid out of her gut. Shaking all over she stared at the woman next to her who was patting her shoulder with such a sympathetic look, it bordered on pity. “What in the world was that?” “Ya survived your first chase”, the blonde woman laughed, “Congratulations. It get’s easier as you do more of ‘em.” “Don’t think I’m too keen on repeating that experience, thank you”, she mumbled weakly, shaking her head. “We could have been killed! I could have killed someone! That poor horse, it-it…” Her voice broke and faltered. Sadie looked at her, considering for a moment, her eyes stern. “This is the life I chose, and so did you. It ain’t all sugarplum fairies and rainbows ya know. I told you, remember?” She sighed, straightening up to scan the river. “If you’re not up for it, ya better leave ‘fore it’s too late.” Her words stung. Eliza knew she wasn’t as hard as the rest of them, and the feeling of being useless spread itself again inside her. Sadie was right, what was she doing? Playing at being a gunslinger, not even knowing how to shoot a gun proper? The gang was dangerous, living a dangerous life and for the first time she had experienced the harsh reality herself today. “I hope the rest of them girls are alright”, Sadie murmured, “Grimshaw’s gonna bite my head off for this.” She sighed. “Come on, don’t look like there’s more of ‘em that made it this far. Let’s head back to camp.” Offering her a hand she looked at the younger girl, expectantly. Eliza grabbed her forearm and let her help pulling her to her feet. Patting down her skirt, she tried to take a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Sadie sat up into the saddle again and helped her swing up behind her. The skirt rose up her lower thighs, but she couldn’t care less about being decent right now, she didn’t trust herself sitting sideways being as shaky as she was. “We’re gonna stay on this side of the river for a bit, just in case. Keep your eyes out.” Sadie kicked the horse into a slow walk and followed the

road down river. The trees opened up after a short while, and she pointed up a cliff on the opposite side of the valley. “We ain’t far from Horseshoe, see the smoke up there, above that cliff? That’s where you’re sittin’ every mornin’.” Eliza followed her outstretched arm with her eyes and hummed in recognition. Apart from a thin trail of smoke, nothing would have given away that there was an outlaw group hiding up there. Her insides twisted at the thought of that. Outlaws. “S-Sadie, I… I’m sorry.” The blonde woman turned her head and she could feel her eyes on her, but kept her gaze down, staring at the back of the saddle. “I know I’m not much use, and I can’t even keep my head in a chase like we had. I’m just a… A liability.” “Stop, you ain’t that. You think I didn’t throw up after getting’ shot at the first time? Only difference was I couldn’t shoot back, the fellers did it for me!”, she exhaled in amusement. “You took that gun and emptied six rounds into them sons of bitches, I say ya did well.” Murmuring about not having another choice Eliza lifted her head a bit, the praise didn’t cut through the self-disdain entirely, but it made it sting less. Sadie returned her head to face the road and chuckled. “I know you must be feelin’ mighty shaky right now. Trust me, it gets better.” Eliza gave a huff, half laugh, half sob. “That’s what Arthur told me, when we robbed that wagon. Not so sure about that.” “Well, are you lookin’ at it every day when she go to sleep, thinkin’ how you shouldn’t have done it?” This question startled her. She hadn’t thought twice about that, not after it had been made into her own sleeping space. Did she really have that little of a conscience? Sadie laughed at her silence, guessing what was going on in her mind. “See, it does get better. Gettin’ shot at and shootin’ back will too.”

[ohdeputy]

100 Letters PART VII

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 5,556

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Part VI

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John leaned against the structure of the barn next to the auction yard, keeping his distance as he tried to listen in on the conversation taking place between one of the auctioneers and a farmhand.

He’d been in Valentine a couple of days now, doing his best to keep a low profile while he cased the area, making sure to listen in when he could.

“We still got… some comin’ in from West Elizabeth, near Blackwater, sir. They haven’t set a time for their arrival yet.”

“Anything else?”

“The herd from Emerald Ranch will be coming later this evening. We’re expecting around twenty.”

John slightly tipped his hat up to look at the men. He’d been scoping out the area for a while after hearing about the livestock coming through to be auctioned off. He figured he might as well rustle a couple of sheep while the gang was in the area.

All that’s left is buying a rifle and finding a vantage point-

“John? What’re you doing here?”

John turned wide-eyed to where he heard his name being called from, bewildered as he saw Arthur of all people casually walk toward him only a few feet off.

“What’re you doing sneakin’ around like that,” Arthur continued advancing as he practically yelled.

“Shhhhhhh!” John brought a finger to his lips, then quickly looked over his shoulder. They hadn’t gotten anyone’s attention but John was afraid they might if Arthur continued causing a scene.

He quickly grabbed Arthur and pulled them into the nearby barn. Once inside, John faced him, “do you mind!?”

Arthur didn’t say anything as John glared into his eyes. He suddenly realized how close he stood, still latching onto Arthur’s arm.

John quickly dropped his hand and took a step back, awkwardly looking away. “I’m just on a job, so would you mind not blowing my cover?”

Arthur raised his hands up innocently, “sure. Don’t mind me.”

“Alright, well. I should really be going then. Bye.” John started to head to the opposite barn doors.

“Wait,” Arthur took a step in his direction. “Um, can I get your help with something? It’ll be quick, I promise.”

Without stopping John responded, “what.”

Arthur followed him out, trying to keep up with his fast pace into town, “you going to the gunsmith?”

“Yeah, actually.” John gave him a suspicious sideways glance, “…why.”

A stupid grin crossed Arthur’s face. “I need some ammo.”

He frowned, “and? Why don’t you get it yourself.”

Arthur looked around them, “I don’t exactly have the best reputation in town at this moment in time.”

John’s expression fell flat, “of course you don’t.”

The two made it to the side of the gunsmith shop, Arthur halting before they made it in the town any further. “Could you grab a couple of revolver cartridges for me?”

“Sure,” John replied as he took the steps up onto the porch and pushed aside the door that led into the shop. He walked up to the front counter and studied the rifles, his mind back on the job. He wasn’t looking for anything too fancy, just something to get the job done.

“May I offer you any assistance, sir?”

John pointed to a worn but sturdy-looking rolling block rifle, “Can I see this one?”

The man slid open the glass door encasing the weapons and brought the rifle that caught John’s eye out onto the counter. On closer inspection, the rifle had engravings that lined the light myrtle wood, contrasting the almost black metal that held it together.

“She’s an old one but still works like a charm, I can assure you.”

It certainly wasn’t as new and shiny as the other ones, but John held a fondness for it. He ran his hand along the barrel, “I’ll take it.”

A little while later, John returned to where he left Arthur, who he found leaning casually against the wall of the shop. “You get the ammo?”

John tossed him the cartridges then continued making his way past Arthur and back to the auction yard. Arthur whistled, “that’s quite the gun you got there, Marston. What’re you planning to use that for?”

“The job I was talking about. Gunna scope out some sheep to rustle.”

Arthur caught up to John, facing him as he spoke, “Alone? You’re gunna herd a bunch of sheep by yourself?”

He stood in front of John now, forcing him to stop. “…yeah?”

Arthur gave him a skeptical look, “no way you’ll be able to do it with one man, let me help.”

“No.” John responded coldly, moving away from Arthur.

“Why not?”

John didn’t hesitate as he answered, “because you’re unreliable for one, and two, you’ve been kind’ve a jerk lately.”

Arthur gave a sheepish smile, “that’s nothing new.”

John rolled his eyes, turning away.

“Hey, okay, wait! You’re right. What I said the day of the train heist… was out of line. You didn’t deserve that, I’m, uhh… I’m sorry.” He looked to the ground, avoiding John’s gaze.

John didn’t know how to respond at the sudden sincerity of Arthur’s apology to him. It was unexpected with the circumstance of how tense things seemed between them since they argued. And how John hadn’t seen Arthur again until now.

“I can make it up to you, let me help you with the job.” Arthur looked up again, as if not wanting to linger on the memory they last shared for too long. “Honestly, I’d be doing you a favor since there’s no way you can do it on your own.”

John squinted at him.

“Come on,” Arthur continued. “Tell me about it over a drink at the saloon, I’ll buy you a whiskey, sunshine.”

John blinked, feeling himself turn red from what he knew was only a harmless comment. He quickly turned in the direction of the saloon and started walking. “Fine.”

“Not that one, the other one,” John stopped in his tracks, looking over to see Arthur pointing in the opposite direction.

John turned to give him a confused expression, “there’s another one?”

A minute later the two walked into a small building that John never realized existed. “Huh, I didn’t even know there was another saloon.” He glanced around, “it’s pretty small. Probably doesn’t get a lot of business compared to the other one.”

He heard someone clear his throat, looking over to see the bartender give him an unimpressed stare.

John awkwardly looked away, catching Arthur’s smug expression. “Nice one, Marston.”

“Shut up.”

The two sat at a corner table away from the few other patrons that littered the place, John explaining his plan to Arthur. He talked of how he overheard that there would be multiple herds being moved in from all over the place and that he was particularly interested in the one coming from Emerald Ranch.

All the while Arthur listened intently, nodding along as John spoke. “I thought I’d set up near Twin Stack Pass and wait for them to pass by, then fire a few shots to scatter the ranchers and swoop in to take the remaining stock the rest of the way.”

“Then bring them to the auction and sell them as your own?”

John nodded.

Arthur suppressed a smile.

“What?”

Arthur shook his head, but still couldn’t help from smiling, making John frown.

“What.”

“It’s a brilliant plan but,” he gave a little chuckle, “You’ll need someone to help wrangle those sheep if they’re going to be scattering like that. Not to mention when it comes to actually herding them. Typically, there’s one man in the front and two in the back, but I’m confident we can handle it just fine with the two of us.”

He took a drink from his whiskey, then added, “you really don’t know much about ranching, do you.”

John took in everything Arthur said before responding. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up, “there, that settles it then!” He stood, and without waiting for a response exited the saloon.

John had no choice but to follow, catching up with Arthur outside as he mounted his horse, and did the same. They rode out of town and into the open, flat lands of the Heartlands. Giant pillars of rock emerged from the ground, standing like structures that reached toward the sky. As they went further out, the snowy mountains could be seen in the distance with forests that dotted the base and flowed down from the Grizzles to the west. It was quite breathtaking, being a sight to behold.

They followed along the road until John spotted a pathway leading up onto a large enough space to overlook the area around them.

“Let’s head to the ridge up there, get a better view!” he called over his shoulder, motioning to where he meant.

The two ascended together, stopping with their horses side by side to look below them. “So I’m thinking that the herd’ll make it to auction alright. But a couple of new ranch hands’ll be collecting on the sale. Doubt the town will care to notice too much.” Arthur nodded as John spoke.

The two waited patiently for the herd to arrive, scanning the valley in anticipation. John shrugged his new rifle off his shoulder to hold in his hands. He gave the ground a quick scan to look for any movement. Nothing.

“Might be here for a while.”

John relaxed his aim, giving a hum in agreement. When neither of them said anything more, he shifted in his saddle uncomfortably.

Arthur slid off his horse, taking a seat in the grass in front of them. “What’re you doing?” John asked him, wearing a frown as he did.

“Listen, it feels like I’ve been riding all day,” he responded while settling. “You’re free to join me too, Marston. Don’t think we’ll be seeing anything soon.”

John figured Arthur may be right, getting off his own horse, too. He gave Old Boy a pat before going over to sit down next to him. They sat a few more feet apart than John would’ve liked, but he knew better than to move any closer.

John sat as Arthur leisurely lay next to him, watching the clouds pass with a sun that shone brightly overhead. The wind rustled the long grass around them with a breeze that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Arthur reached for his hat, taking it off to run a hand through his hair. It sat just above a shoulders length, particularly sun bleached from the beginnings of the long summer days. John especially liked it like this, and the way that a few stray pieces always found their way in front of his face

He wore a relaxed expression, one that John caught himself staring at for too long. He fixed his attention ahead, but couldn’t stop his mind from returning to the image. He was so pretty, John had always thought that about Arthur. He knew that Arthur hated the thought. Pretty boy, people would call him, and he would become all red and flustered.

He would be so offended at the notion that he wasn’t some grizzled outlaw that he claimed to be. Like being pretty made him any less of a skilled gunslinger that he was.

But he was, in John’s opinion. With a perfect smile that could just about melt anyone’s worries. And of course his eyes, which was John’s favourite feature of his. The depth of their blue and how they always looked at him just right, until one day they didn’t, and he found himself avoiding them more than anything else.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to own my own ranch.” Arthur broke his train of thought, making him remember why they were here.

“I know you do,” John chuckled. “You used to talk about it when we was kids.”

Arthur smiled but didn’t look at John. It wasn’t like the same as from back in Valentine, this smile was genuine, reminding John of the past.

“It’s not an exciting life but it’s simple and rewarding.” The smile slipped from his face, “I never imagined myself in this outlaw life forever.”

John turned to look over at Arthur, seeing the sincerity in what he spoke written across his face. It disappeared just as fast as it came when Arthur squinted, pointing ahead, “that the herd you lookin’ for?”

John stood, bringing the scope up to look where Arthur pointed. “That’s them alright,” he responded. “I’m gunna fire a shot to scatter them ranch hands, then the sheep will be ours for the taking.”

He moved the crosshairs of the rifle across the ground, following the herd. He then positioned his line of fire at a safe distance to spook them without the risk of hitting anyone. Putting his finger on the trigger, he slowly squeezed. The bullet whizzed through the air, lodging itself in the dirt a few feet off from where they passed.

One of the ranch hands pulled back to still his horse, panicking as he looked around. The others halted, too.

John let fly another shot, this time causing the first man to spur his horse and hightail it out of there. The two remaining men quickly followed suit and ran after the first man, leaving the sheep long forgotten.

The sheep dispersed, too, unguided in their panic. Luckily, none seemed to run off, to John’s contentment. Now it was just a matter of collecting them, which he thought would be easy enough.

He lowered the weapon and gave Arthur a triumphant grin, who returned it. “Not bad, Marston.”

“Come on, let’s round them up.” He got onto his horse, pulling the reins to direct them down to where the sheep grazed in the open field. Once they reached the bottom, the two split up to gather the stock, their movements mirrored as they parted ways.

John took the left side, making sure to keep his distance so he wouldn’t produce any strays along the way. Looping around a cluster, he took his time in forcing them back as a group. He met up with Arthur in the middle, who waited for him.

With John’s addition, they managed to successfully gather all the sheep back together. He looked around them smiling, proud of their work.

John slid off his horse, reaching for his saddlebag to grab some oats. He held out his hand for Old Boy, who practically inhaled them. Arthur dismounted his horse, too, and John offered him some oats for his horse. Arthur took them gratefully, “Bandit thanks you kindly.”

John gave a nod, returning to Old Boy with a brush now in hand. “So why don’t you leave?”

He turned to see Arthur give him a confused expression. “The gang, I mean,” he continued, “if you don’t picture yourself doing this forever.”

“Ah,” Arthur looked away. He gently pet Bandit, taking his time to respond.  “I don’t know… I think this life chose us.” He said it almost solemnly, like he mourned the idea of ever escaping the outlaw life a long time ago.

John got the feeling that Arthur was not too keen on talking about the subject. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to change it. This…Dutch… he doesn’t know what’s right for us.” He quickly realized how that sounded. Awkwardly, he tried to clarify, feeling his cheeks heat up, “the gang-I mean, with everything that’s happened…” he trailed off.

Arthur shifted, fidgeting with the reins of his horse. “I won’t lie, it hasn’t been easy, but we'll get through it. We always do.”

John was slightly taken aback by Arthur’s ignorance. It almost felt as if he were just trying to disregard the severity of what happened in Blackwater. John had tried bringing it up to him only a few times and every conversation had ended in avoidance. He was determined to get through to Arthur, to talk to the Arthur he knew, who wouldn’t stand for the truth behind what Dutch had done.

“What about Nico?” John turned his body to face Arthur, “Mac, Davey, Jenny, they didn’t make it through.”

He could see Arthur’s expression turn cold. “We can’t change what’s been done… we can only move on,” there was a distance to the words he spoke, making John think he was talking about something else.

Still, he prodded further, unable to accept that Arthur didn’t have the slightest shred of doubt with how much their situation has declined recently. “You act like they meant nothing! Dutch, too, treating them as if they’re disposable, they were people.”

“Now that’s not true, you can’t put all this on Dutch. We just gotta trust in him-”

“Don’t be so naive, Arthur,” John cut him off. “You really believe all that stuff Dutch fed you about Nico? After everything?”

Arthur’s expression turned stern, “don’t.”

John couldn’t help from raising his voice, “don’t what?! Talk about Nico?” He felt a wave of surging anger at her mention, his eyes stinging. “You haven’t even said a word about her since she died. She was our friend! How could you do that?!”

“No,” Arthur turned on him, pointing a finger at John, “She was YOUR friend, not mine. I didn’t betray her, she betrayed me! Betrayed all of us! It’s because of her we ended up in this giant mess, so don’t put that on me! Don’t tell me I have no remorse when she’s the one that gave up!”

“You’re wrong, she didn’t. You knew her, she wouldn’t do that to us, just think about it-” he pleaded, desperate for Arthur to know the truth.

Arthur didn’t look convinced. “You’re turning this whole thing around-”

“I’m not!” He snapped again, aware of how the conversation was quickly descending, but John didn’t care if he was crossing a line. He’d kept everything bottled for so long, he couldn’t stop it from all coming out now.

“She was the first of us to question Dutch about his intentions! And what happened to her? He put a fucking bullet in her head and left her to rot in that damn lake, or river, or whatever the hell it was!”

Arthur’s tone was deep and steady when he responded, “that’s a serious accusation to be throwing around.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I ain’t joking.”

John could see the expression on Arthur’s face falter as he continued, “and maybe I thought you’d never trust me enough to take me seriously, did you ever think that was the reason I never told you any of this?”

Arthur went quiet, hesitating for a moment. “Of course I would take into consideration what you thought. If you truly meant it, I would, but-”

“Take into consideration?!” John almost laughed at that, “you think I could risk you considering anything after what actions Dutch took against Nico? Against me? Hell no-”

“Against you?”

“-telling you after everything that happened between us ain’t worth dying over, that’s forsure. You can’t even look at me straight no more.”

Arthur’s puzzled expression morphed back into one of anger, “yeah? Well, I wonder why that is! If I remember correctly, you were the one that fucked off for a year!”

“Oh my God,” John rolled his eyes, turning away. “Talking to you is impossible. Forget I said anything.”

“As I recall, you didn’t say anything, Marston. Like always!”

Arthur didn’t stop now that he started, “so why would you care? After everything? Mac, Davey, Jenny, even Nico! What do you care about what happens to them! Or to m-to any of us?!”

Arthur’s body was fully turned toward John now, his eyes glaring into him. He looked enraged, but there was something else that John couldn’t quite place beneath it.

“Dutch may have his flaws, but at least he was here!”

A beat of silence followed between them. The words striking John as if a they were a slap across the face.

He turned to face Arthur again, “wh-Dutch!?”

“Yes, Dutch. He is trying his best to keep us all together, where you’d rather run away from your problems. Tell me, why was it you came back, huh? Why bother!”

“Because I-I,” for you! He screamed internally, and it was the honest answer, but not one he could voice out loud. It was never about the gang. He knew that shortly after joining. If Arthur was at the other end of the earth, John would have followed him there.

“I didn’t-It wasn’t…” John fumbled through his words, eventually trailing off with the realization that there was nothing he could say without admitting the truth, leaving behind a painful silence between them.

“Hmm.” Arthur pressed his lips together, nodding his head slowly. He let out a short, frustrated breath through his nose. “After all this time and still you can’t admit the truth. Isn’t this what you wanted? To talk? Well, here we are! It’s just the two of us now! Do you have anything to say?”

John didn’t answer, composed in a forced ignorance to hide the truth.

“No!? Nothing!?” Arthur raised his arms up beside him, clearly agitated now.

“I… I can’t.”  John finally said.

“Of course not!” Arthur snapped, “ ‘cause you’re a GODDAMN COWARD, JOHN MARSTON.”

John’s anger rose to match that of Arthur’s, “you know, I’ve just about had it with what people assume I am. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought, maybe it’s-”

John cut himself off. He was afraid of the consequences he might endure if he went on further. The conversation was turning dangerous as he let his emotion take control.

“What?” Arthur questioned him.  “Maybe it’s what?!”

John didn’t answer right away. He let the silence linger for a moment before responding. “Nothing. I’m done wasting my breath.”

Arthur squinted at him but didn’t say anything.

“You know, you’re a capricious man, Arthur Morgan. One minute you’re all content, seemin’ like we could be friends again and the next you’re back to avoiding me and acting like I don’t even exist.”

“Oh, is that what you’re expecting? To be friends?”

John faltered, uncertain in that moment how to respond, “well… yes.”

John studied Arthur’s face intently. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he waited in anticipation for a response. Arthur remained stoic, without a crack in his demeanor to show John any indication of what he was thinking.

“Well then.” Arthur’s jaw clenched, “I guess you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

John stared, unblinking. Arthur continued, “we ain’t friends. We ain’t ever gunna be friends.

Arthur’s gaze hardened, holding a fierceness John had never known him to have. And when he looked into his eyes, he saw no familiarity, feeling nothing that he once did.

“I can’t be friends with you. Do you know why? Because when I look at you, all I see is a ghost. You’re just a memory of someone I thought I knew a long time ago.”

John stood paralyzed from his words, listening with such focus as he felt his chest tighten.

“And sure, it’s all fine and civilized when it has to be. But that’s all it will ever be.” Arthur’s voice shook as he went on, John could see tears start to form in his eyes, “so don’t you think for a second it means anything more.”

Without another word, he mounted and spurred his horse to ride up ahead of John, leaving him in the dust. John let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and gripped onto his horse to pull himself up. His arms and legs felt shaky when he did. He didn’t want to think about what just happened. And how everything that he thought he had between him and Arthur was built upon lies. No, he didn’t want to think about that.

He kept switching between a fury and misery at what transpired, angry at how careless Arthur was and filled with sorrow from the hurtful things he’d said. All I see is a ghost.

Maybe he was right. John hadn’t felt like himself in years, and maybe he was holding onto something that was long dead, killing him in the process too.

But what hurt the most was the fact that Arthur believed John truly didn’t care. After all the sacrifices made, to think that it meant nothing to John. Did he really see him so heartless? If only he knew…

No, he couldn’t go down that path right now. He forced the thought far from his mind. He had to focus, he came out to do a job, and he was going to finish it.

With about a dozen sheep between them, the air was tense as the two rode to the auction yard. It took almost twice as long going back to Valentine, or at least it seemed like it to John, not saying a word to each other the entire time.

Arthur reached the auction yard first, getting off his horse to lend a hand opening the gate with the farmhands, funneling the sheep inside the corral. John spotted the auctioneers not far off, dismounting his horse to approach them.

The lead man leaned on the fence with his foot propped up, watching the sheep intently. “Those are some fine sheep you got there.” He faced John, “one might wonder how you acquired such.”

“Guess I should take that as a compliment, I’m quite proud of them myself,” John responded, but the man didn’t seem convinced, narrowing his eyes.

Arthur came up to stand beside John, “you got a problem with the sheep, friend?” His voice was low, staring at the auctioneer with intensity. It was clear that he was still in a poor mood from their argument before.

“Not with the sheep, friend. And I suggest you be careful.”

“Excuse me?”

A slick smile crossed the man’s face, “sure, I’ll excuse you… for twenty five percent kickback.”

Arthur looked taken aback and John was afraid he would punch the man. Instead, he took a couple of steps closer to the auctioneer, threatening him now with his voice in a deep growl, “do you want me to put another hole in your head?”

The auctioneer didn’t move, matching his tone when he responded, “folks swing ‘round here for rustling livestock. Twenty five percent.”

“Fifteen,” John interjected, making them both break their staredown between each other and look at him.

“Twenty.”

Arthur waved his hand in frustration, walking away from them.

“Eighteen,” John persisted, making the auctioneer contemplate for a moment before he answered.

“Done.” He held out his hand to close the deal, which John took. “Come back when the auction is over, you’ll get your money.” John gave a tight nod, dropping his hand.

Arthur was already at his horse and back to ignoring John by the time he walked over. He thought Arthur might take off back to camp without waiting for him, but never got the chance to find out when he heard someone come up to them.

“Gentlemen!” Trelawny strolled over to meet the two of them. He held himself up straight, looking down his nose at them like he always did. John thought about how out of place he looked amidst all the mud and animals with his top hat and pristine clothes.

“There you are! I thought I might find you around here, or more so, Dutch thought you boys had business here. He has requested your ever awaited attendance in town.”

Without stopping for an answer, he turned and walked back up the way he came. “Come, come, I’ll take you to him.”

Arthur dismounted and took the reins of his horse, turning his back to John when responding, “lead the way.”

John whistled for Old Boy to follow while Trelawny led them into town. He lingered behind the two, not wanting to encourage conversation.

“So, what were the two of you up to?”

“Auctioning sheep.” Arthur said curtly, making Trelawny glance his way. “That it, then?”

“Yup.”

Trelawny overdramatically shook, “brrr, did something happen between you two? It’s awfully cold.”

John could make out Arthur’s expression furrowing from the other man’s brash remark. “Just doing a job, nothing more to it.”

“Very well then.” Trelawny seemed to take the hint as he didn’t speak any further during their trip along the road. He stopped outside the saloon they were at earlier that day and John thought of how different things were only a couple hours prior, feeling his heart tighten.

“I’ll meet you boys inside.”

The two awkwardly made their way to where the horses were to be hitched without looking at one another.

“Nice going back there, Marston,” his voice was thick with sarcasm. “Can’t herd, can’t swim…”

John opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur cut him off before he had the chance, “oh don’t tell me, ‘we ain’t kids no more.’” He forcibly tied the reins of his horse and walked up the steps of the saloon. “We never really were…”

John’s first instinct was to yell after him, but his anger was instantly replaced with a sense of sadness. Arthur was right, they were robbed of any childhood. And the man responsible for that was sitting not ten feet away from him.

He went to hitch his own horse, taking a deep sigh before going inside to meet Dutch. It was the last thing he wanted to do, and after today, particularly so.

When he pushed open the saloon door he could see Arthur taking a seat beside Dutch. Trelawny, in turn, got up from his, “-it won’t be for long, I’ve got a good feeling about this place.”

Dutch couldn’t look more disinterested, “sure.”

“Right then, I’ll be off,” Trelawny passed by John to leave, tipping his hat as he did.

Dutch turned toward Arthur, “where have you been?”

“Workin’. Marston had a thing.” Arthur leaned back in his chair.

“A thing?”

“Yup, just waiting to get some pay on a few sheep.”

“Right.” Dutch turned to John as if he had only just noticed he was there. “John. Since you’re here, could you make yourself useful and stay outside with the horses? Make sure there ain’t no funny business out there.”

John’s eyes darted to Arthur, who quickly looked away. He gave a tight-lipped smile, “sure thing.”

He heard Dutch offer Arthur a drink before exiting the saloon, feeling like a child being sent out while the adults talked. Typical. He thought to himself how this day couldn’t get any worse, but then again each day seemed to be harder than the previous.

John stood next to Old Boy, shrugging off his rifle to put away. The town was quiet, making him wonder why Dutch was so keen on having a lookout. He could have just sent John home.

Without much distraction, his mind drifted back to their argument from earlier. It was becoming obvious where Arthur’s loyalty lay, the realization hitting John hard. Though, he didn’t know why he was surprised. What they once had was long gone. They were years past it.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame Arthur because it was John who avoided him for all those years. He may not have had a choice, but Arthur didn’t know that. He wasn’t aware of the circumstance that led them here. And maybe it was time for John to let go.

Combined with what transpired with Dutch last, John questioned why he still ran with the gang. After today he crossed some line in his mind telling him that he should leave. That Arthur all but despised him, that Nico was a warning and that if he wasn’t careful, he would end up the same as her. He thought about Abigail and how he should tell her everything about Dutch so that she and Jack might leave and never look back, too.

John believed he could get away with it. Slipping away and giving into the rumors of him running off like half the gang thought anyhow. He doubted Dutch cared enough to chase him, after all, it would mean that he won.

In the past there had been countless reasons that would almost convince him to go; the way people looked at him as if he were some sort of traitor. Not being able to bear the self-hatred of pleasing Dutch by settling with Abigail. Of course, nothing compared to how much it killed him to avoid Arthur, and Arthur him.

It made sense in John’s mind. And if he was being honest, leaving was the most rational thing to do. Half his life was spent living in fear of Dutch’s shadow and being marked untrustworthy by most of his companions.

He wouldn’t have been able to last this long were it not for Nico, yet now that she was gone he still felt a pull to remain. That was… until after today. Now that John was completely clear on Arthur’s feelings toward him, that there wasn’t even a shred of forgiveness that John could cling on to…

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”

John was so lost in thought that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone behind him. Without recognizing the voice, he turned around just in time to see the butt of a gun thrust into his face.

[i-love-charles]

@i-am-craving-kittens: “I wanted to request something for Javier, something along the lines of a lover he left in Mexico (preferably girl) lover was angry when they found out. And after these years of searching she finds out where they are and comes shouting curse words out in Spanish. If you do decide to take the request the ending is up to you, thank you for your time!”

La Promeso

[I loved, loved, loved writing this. Just want to mention i’m not a Spanish speaker in the slightest, so if you are and you notice a spelling error, i’d be very grateful if you could message me so that I can correct it. Enjoy!]

Notes: Fluff, Angst, Slight Racism, Conflict, Some Spanish, Javier + Female Reader 

Wordcount: 2,612

Nuevo Paraíso, Mexico, 1893

The molten Mexican sun beams down, kissing across every surface it touches; the thin blades of dry grass, the tall and proud palm trees that sway along with the gentle breeze, and the glowing golden skin of the man sat before you. His muscles flex subtly under his thin, white unbuttoned shirt and his hair falls in loose dark tendrils out of his widely shaded sombrero, masking around his face delicately. Your lover's guitar lay at his crossed legs as his fingers work at the tightened cords, creating a sweet and promising melody that whisks around you both in a breezy hum. The field around you lay silent and peaceful, and in this moment, he is the only thing real in your world.

“Sing our song, amorcito.” You plead, meeting his wishful gaze and propping yourself up on your elbows against the picnic blanket beneath you. He obliged by lifting the corners of his mouth in a warming grin and tuning gently at the neck of his guitar. His words came out like honey, the sweetness sending bundles of fluttering butterflies around your stomach.  

“De la Sierra Morena, cielito lindo, vienen bajando, Un par de ojitos negros, cielito lindo, de contrabando.”

Javier looked up at you, signalling for you to join him in singing the chorus together, and when you did your voices melted together in a symphony along with the quick and precise strokes he emitted against the snappy guitar strings.  

“Ay, ay, ay, ay, Canta y no llores!”  

Upon finishing your favourite song, you erupted into laughter together. A church bell chimed in the distance from your nearby village chapel that peaked its way through the swaying trees, proud white brick steeples, beautiful stained-glass windows and large oak doors adorned the small building. You looked at Javier, knowing full well the bells were ringing for one lucky couple after promising themselves to one another in matrimony. As if reading your mind Javier broke your thoughts off softly by placing his guitar at his side and turning his attention to you. “That’ll be us one day, ___.” He spoke whilst kissing at the soft skin of your knuckles before cupping your face between his hands. “We’ll escape, mi amor. I’ll make you my wife. We’ll leave this town together and never look back. Lo prometo, amorcito.”

Even after all these years, his promise still rang around in your head, impossible to forget. That was the last time you’d seen Javier, he’d escaped that night in a disgrace. Your small village was left in shock and destruction in his absence - a wealthy general for the Mexican embassy had been murdered in cold blood by the man you loved, along with a few soldiers that sacrificed themselves in order to protect their regime. Every corner was plastered with Javier’s face, a hefty bounty written in cold black print below. You had avoided the details of his crimes, but couldn’t escape the many stories that were passed around about his new life on American soil. In some he was married, or dead, captured, or a father living as a ranch hand hiding behind a new name and childhood. Truthfully, you were bitter at him for breaking his promise, and even more bitter when you heard stories of him settling down with other women – you hadn’t even looked at another man since he’d left home.

You’d had no intention of ever finding the one that got away before today, but you knew if there was ever a chance of you finding him again and building the life you knew you were destined for, then this way your key – an article named ‘Cornwall Outlaw Train Heist - Valentine’ on the front page of the ‘Paraiso Times’. A grainy image of the suspects was displayed underneath: a group of gunslingers posing by a stagecoach with shiny rifles in their gloved hands, many had their mouths and noses hidden behind dark cloth masks, thus making it near enough impossible to identify them. Your English was only novice level when reading but a certain name did catch your eye – a mister J. Escuella.  

Valentine, New Hanover, America 1899

Stepping from the train, the first thing you notice about the small farming town is the stench of cattle, the persistent trotting of hooves and the constant conversation arising from the wide towns dirtied streets. From studying a map of Valentine on your long train journey across the border from Mexico through New Austin and the surrounding states, you were aware of the general store, gunsmith and the doctor's office – hoping they would have some information to offer you on the whereabouts of your rogue target. In your two small cases you carry the only possessions of worth to you, a few casual dresses and some small clippings of money you’d gained whilst performing odd jobs in your village back home. Although, must of your savings had gone towards the train fair.  

You make your way first to the general store, acting interested in his wares as not to make yourself seem to desperate for his help. You approach the counter with a small tin of biscuits and pretend to drop a folded bounty poster from your leather case.  

“Oh, that reminds me.” You say absent-mindedly whilst unravelling the paper and showing it to the man, his face visibly cracks a frown at the image of Javier and the sum below him. “Señor, I’m looking for this man here. Do you know where I can find him, por favor.” You could hear your voice crack pleadingly to the man before you, but he mustn't find out why you’re really looking for Javier.

His eyes search yours questioningly and then he places the bounty back on your side of the counter before adding. “I’m afraid not, ma’am.” You ask at your next pit stops, the gunsmith and the doctor's office, whom both provide you with little to no information of the whereabouts of your long-lost lover. Maybe he had really moved on? Forgotten about me? Settled down with a women he’d met after finally escaping?  The questions swirled around in your head, sinking you into a regret at ever even leaving Mexico, you’d left home for a man that probably hadn’t even thought of you since you’d been apart. The saloon was the only place you wanted to be, with a whisky in your hand and maybe even a man at your side that would indulge in your need for affection without asking any questions – so that’s where you found yourself.  

The saloon was particularly busy for such a small town, working girls lined the benches of the bar, many walking past with men following quick behind with a pretty penny in hand. You dropped your cases next to your stool at the bar and hailed for the bartender, handing him some shiny coins in exchange for some cheap spirits. You felt relatively safe wallowing in your own regret alone in this foreign town until a heavy and clumsy arm slang across your shoulders.  

“What’s a pretty lady like yourself doing so far north of ‘Me-he-co'?” He spoke the last word mockingly, imitating your own pronunciation. Obviously, your complexion had given away the fact you weren’t a native to the ‘new world’. “How about you let ol’ Harry buy you a few more drinks to make you feel right at home?” His breath smelt like pure liquid intoxication equipped with the usual slurring and clumsy footwork along with a thick sheen of sweat coating his thin, course greying hair and baggy overalls. You’d wanted to attention of a man, but not one that’s going to blatantly mock your nationality and not one that smells like rotting pig flesh coupled nicely with the stench of piss.

“That’s very kind of you, señor, but, actually, I have to get going.” You explain, hurriedly lifting yourself to your feet and downing the rest of your small shot; the strong fluid burns against your throat as you swallow. He meets your hand aggressively as you slam the glass upon the bars surface.  

“Listen here, spic bitch. You gotta’ earn your-” The drunkard was cut off by a clenched and powerful fist to his slacking jaw. Harry drew back in both anger and shock, letting go of your hand to cup the bruise forming on his face, adding insult to injury by facing his competitor and spitting out his words with a sharp chuckle. “Looks like this foreign whores got a greaser boyfriend!”

The fight broke out so quickly that you didn’t have the opportunity to identify the chivalrous gentleman that had protected you, from what you could make out between the flying fists and broken chair legs launching through the air he had a poncho perched around his shoulders, much like the ones that your village that produced back home. The thin wool of his poncho intertwined at his chest to create an image that immediately felt familiar to you, a white building with a bell tower and what looked like stained-glass complimenting its small windows, surrounded by a lining of trees in the distance of an empty and peaceful field. Exactly like Nuevo Paraiso. The mans eyes came up to meet yours, they were a warm wood brown framed by a dark pair of short whispy lashes. His facial hair shaped precisely and perfectly against his jaw and a complimentary widely-brimmed sombrero upon his head. His mouth opened to form an ‘o’ and his eyes blinked rapidly at the sight of the woman before him – the one that’d been the centre of his thoughts from the moment he awoke in the mornings to the moment he’d rest his eyes at night. A woman he’d thought he’d probably never see again, only in his dreams.

You clutched at the handles of your luggage while the realisation and recognition washed over you both, the harsh leather cutting slightly into your palms. Javier hadn’t changed a bit. Even in this saloon filled with screaming working girls and shouting drunkard men, he still looked at you the same way he did nearly a decade ago. The butterflies returned to the pit of your stomach and once again the only things that seemed to matter in this confusing world at the moment were you and Javier. The sweet reunion was short lived, dramatically cut short by a shot fired at the glasses lining the bar at your side. Javier ran towards you, gripping a case in his hand and meeting your free palm with his own before dragging hurriedly out of the saloon and towards his agitated mare hitched patiently outside. Javier hangs your cases alongside the hooks of his saddle and then motions at his horse for you to mount. Before you know it you’re clutching at his torso while his horse rides with the wind away from the gunshots and smashing glasses of the riotous Valentine saloon.  

His horse slows down and leaps it’s way across a distressed brick wall that has lined its way around a deserted crop field, before coming to a sudden halt. Your head was pounding with shock in the aftermath of previous events, the gunshots still ringing irritably in your ears. Javier leaps off his horse, delicately lifting you off the back like fine china and enveloping you in his arms tight and feverishly. His words always came out like honey, now was no different, and they were a melody to your ringing ears.  

“___.” He whispered your name into the crook of your neck as if it was sacred. “Am I dreaming?”

You giggled lightly at his question, meeting his hands in your own and pulling back to examine his face, a few small abrasions and bruises, nothing he probably wasn’t already accustomed to with his life on the run. The thought of it sent you into a silent outrage and you couldn’t stop yourself from connecting a soft palm to the flesh of his cheek.  

“Bastardo!” The word left your mouth without you even thinking.

“Okay, I deserved that.” He acknowledges with a slight nod, a silent moment goes past while you both gather your thoughts, and he was the first to break it. “Amorcito, I’ve missed you more than I can put into words. I wanted to write you but Dutch said –“ he explains.

“Don’t call me that, Javier! Quien diablos es Dutch!” You spit out.

“My mentor, mi amor. He took me in when I escaped. I wanted to find you, lo prometo.” His voice is stained with regret and remorse, his eyes searching yours for some type of forgiveness as if begging. You couldn’t let his honey covered words coax you in as if nothing ever happened, as if he hadn’t abandoned you and left you broken-hearted and delirious. 

“Like the prometo you made to be 9 years ago, estúpido!” You could see his body flinch at your words, as though you’d sent a cold spike straight through his heart. “I woke up and you were gone, Javier. No ‘adios’ or ‘lo siento’. Nada!” Your screamed, tears brimming your eyes and blurring your flurried vision. You wanted to hate him, but simultaneously you understood that he had to get away from his mistake and that going back for you would only be a sure death sentence for him. “We had a life together, Javier. You said it yourself. You left me.” By now the tears were escaping in powerful streams down your cheeks, your voice was becoming hoarse and broken with your emotions.

“Novio,” He coos, gently wiping at the tears that streamed down your cheeks “I made my bed that night, I had to lay in it, but that doesn’t mean you have to as well. I wanted to give you a chance to live a good life. I’d hate myself even more if I stole that away from you for my own selfish gain, mi amor.” His silver tongue constricted in your chest and the love you felt it that moment wasn’t something you could even pu tinto words, but you certainly did your best.  

“I love you, Javier.” You sobbed, his eyes now lighting up at the magnitude you’d sacrificed for him, and he knew you weren’t going anywhere. “I left everything behind to find you, you’re my family now.” As if reading your pleas he lifts your delicate fingers to his soft lips and kisses at your knuckles the same way he had all those years ago.  

“Te amo, ___.” 

The next few weeks passed in a delightful blur, with each night ending with you under the stars with Javier at your side. He still had his guitar, one of the only possessions he’d made sure to escape with, and at every chance you could he serenade you with his talent. The others in camp quickly warmed to you after realising who you were, turns out Javier often made you the topic of conversation, particularly on drunken nights when he was feeling particularly regretful and nostalgic. The girls in camp became the bestest of friends, you’d trade love stories with Mary-Beth and drunken antics with Karen – the men would show their appreciation in their own  ways, often by making little jokes about you and Javier, but you knew they meant well. 

Just like with Javier, Dutch and Hosea took you in as their own, making you a welcoming addition to their dysfunctional yet completely functional family. Within a year Javier had fulfilled his original promise, making you his wife – and the church bells definitely chimed for you both that day.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this, if you’d like a second part then feel free to let me know!

[halcyotic]

cayde-6′s kinderguardian days.

     in the way beginning, cayde is more soft spoken. he’s the same goofball wildcard, but hes also.... somewhat more serious. like he doesnt talk nearly as much, still trying to figure some stuff out about himself, why he’s here, why he was brought back, what is this diary on his person when he woke up? who is ace? 

       when he was risen for the first time, he had that moment with sundance, and then just rolled with it tbh, no dramatic “please let me die” but more. okay. now i want to explore. he realizes hes nowhere near the skill level he has to be to survive in the wilds, so eventually sundance finally persuades him to find the traveler, and he kinda mingles in the tower for a bit before going out on his own again. and when he saw what a hunter was like, he decided this class was the one he felt most inclined towards, like he was drawn to it and so he watched and watched, saw how they usually acted, what role they had, the fighting styles most commonly used. decided he would be better than all of them someday.

      when he left again, that’s when he decided to clear some space in a hidden area and make it into a sort of training range. he frequented it a lot, but it was nicely hidden away where not many people could have found it.  in the middle of his training area, he made this makeshift bench where he began to play with guns, taking them apart, putting them together and then he realized hand cannons were the best weapon to him. and over the upcoming years, he gathered the materials and tuning data, and built ace of spades from parts of other rarer guns. he eventually got it finer tuned by an actual gunsmith, and  the gun had been with him ever since. after picking up hand cannons and building some serious skill with them, he realized he didn’t really want any other gun. so he has grenade launchers and shotguns stashed away in areas he could find if in trouble and he needed them for serious missions though, he brought all three. Ace, a bow, and a grenade launcher.

        he has an adventurous spirit, never really staying in one place for too long because all he wants to do is see. that never goes away. at first, his fighting style honestly was far away in the beginning. he would find some sort of shelter and sort of snipe, but not with a rifle, more like a bow. because he was still getting used to the power he felt and feeling pain over and over again without consequences.

        hes basically taking this time in solitude in the wilds to find answers to questions he both had and didnt know he had, hone his skills to be better than the best, and come to realize he cant cook for shit. eventually he returns to the tower after years and years out on his own, and only then would he finally accept a room to become an official part of the tower, to be a guardian.

[christiangrest]

Sharing Freedom with a Visitor from Germany

In my day job I experience a lot of visitors from outside of the United States. Recently I had a colleague visiting here from Germany and he wanted to go to a range to rent and shoot some firearms. In many countries such as Germany this is mostly impossible, so when people visit here, they often times look for a taste of this freedom. Having access to a private range and a relatively decent sized collection of firearms, I suggested that he come with me and I’ll give him the best range day I could muster. Being new to firearms, I ensured that some basic safety training was given and then we set up for a day of fun at the range.

Since I wasn’t exactly sure as to what my visitor was interested in shooting, I brought him by the house and let him take a look at some options. Mostly long guns a pistol and some subguns were picked out for our day at the range along with one of my M1 Garands. I believe he wanted to shoot a bunch of stuff, but there’s only so much time in an afternoon and of course only so much ammo to go around. I geared him up with some Brownells electronic ear pro and safety glasses. We started out shooting my suppressed rimfire SBR. This is an excellent option for a new shooter since it’s quiet and has no recoil…and on top of that it’s easy to get hits on target and have some fun. Afterwards we moved onto the 2 subguns I brought along, my B&T GHM9C SBR and my AP5(MP5 clone) SBR. Both were originally purchased through Brownells and were set up with Rugged Obsidian suppressors. I was curious as to which one he’d prefer and to my surprise he preferred the GHM9C because it gave more feedback to the shooter. After which he got to shoot a few magazines through my G17 build using a customized frame and Brownells PVD bronze slide. He commented that it was much harder to get hits using a handgun, but after a few magazines he was getting hits 99% of the time on steel targets.

Then it was time to up the calibers used. He shot some rounds through my Beretta 1301 Tactical shotgun and commented on the recoil. My Draco AK SBR got a chance and he said it was on another level. Definitely more recoil than the subguns, but easy to aim and get solid hits on steel. After some shooting closer in, we moved back towards 100 yards where we brought out the long guns. I brought an M1 Garand which was by far the toughest for him to get solid hits with, but he had fun shooting a weapon made in December of 1944. The Aero Precision AR10 in 6.5 Creedmoor made life too easy…solid hits with every pull of the trigger was the name of the game with this precision rifle. At the end we finished up with my Colt M16A4 clone build…he wanted to shoot something similar to the current armed forces. Topped off with a 4x32 ACOG and a soft recoil, hits were more than easy with this rifle.

At the end of the day my colleague had a literal blast shooting and truly appreciated getting to experience some of the freedoms we have here in the U.S. As a token I sent him home with a new set of Brownells ear pro. He thought these worked exceptionally good and wanted a set for home on his farm.

[rebooted44]

Sacrifice

Send In A Word, And I’ll Write A Drabble Or Starter Based On It

it’s amazing how quickly things can come and go. it can be at any time, at any place… any place. anyone. anything. be it your home, or those closest to you.

when the end comes, will you be afraid? or will you fight?

early september; banshee-44 slumps at his stall, elbows resting on the sill while his hands fold under his chin. he looks up at the old tree he sees every day, every night, bright red leaves dappled by the tower lights. a detail so small, but so… pleasant. banshee’s always found some sort of comfort in the permanence of this tree’s presence. it lets him know he’s home. 

he’s where he’s supposed to be.

though it’s a stormy night, guardians still linger in the courtyard, doing this and that. vague sounds of conversation here and there, heard barely over the rainfall and distant rolls of thunder, makes fine background noise. banshee takes in a deep, slow breath, and for a moment, he holds it.

a bit of lighthearted banter nearby pauses, and becomes wary murmuring. banshee casts a glance that way, and spots a warlock and a hunter. the hunter’s pointing at the sky, while the warlock approaches the railing with their head craned back, looking up as well. banshee squints at this odd behavior, and he turns his eyes to the sky.

for what feels like the longest time, they stare. watching, waiting for something, anything. another roll of thunder lights up the dark clouds gathered over the tower, the silhouette of an armada of cabal warships briefly revealed. the hunter ducks away and sprints to the hangar, exclaiming something that banshee, to this day, doesn’t think he’ll ever forget:

“shit!”

an explosion shakes the leaves on the old tree, banshee nearly falls to the ground from the sheer force of it. he can hear the commander just past the booming sound, shouting something downstairs. banshee’s already fumbling for his rifle by the time the second explosion hits. civilians start to scream.

faster than he’s moved in years, the gunsmith circles around his table with his trusty rifle in hand. the warlock from before runs past with a titan, to the stairs. banshee heads in the other direction to a group of civilians bumbling in fearful confusion. he puts his hand on one’s shoulder, and nods for the rest to follow, quickly guiding them to the downstairs portion of the courtyard.

somewhere, a hunter shouts, “–AT THE VAULTS–” and a missile hits, taking all three of the vaults out in a fiery explosion. again, the ground shakes, people scream. cabal drop pods begin to hurtle from the ships closing in like meteors. quickly, banshee points the civilians to the stairs, and they sprint that way. 

he turns back to try to navigate through the thick smoke choking the air. cabal soldiers roar too close for comfort as their weapons begin pounding out deafening shots, firing on anything that moves, and banshee pushes past the flaming vaults to open fire. one, two, three legionaries fall, and banshee looks around. over his shoulder, he sees the cryptarch.

“rahool, get downstairs. it’s not safe for you up here.” banshee calls to him over the fires, waving his hand towards the hall of guardians. rahool stumbles back with his datapad clutched to his chest. banshee hears something else past the crackling flames and gunfire. something new, and vicious… 

are those… dogs?

“what the f–” banshee starts to turn to look to the way to the tower north, in time to see a pack of war beasts tearing over to him. he curses and fires on the pack, but they jump at him with teeth bared, and stagger him. one of the damn things latch onto his arm, while others bite at his legs, and he tries to shake them off. he looks back at poor, petrified rahool and yells, “go, dammit, GO!”

rahool runs for his life. whether he makes it to the stairs or not, banshee doesn’t know. he slams the butt of his rifle into one of the war beast’s snouts and it lets go of his arm, and he takes this opportunity to pump the whole pack full of lead. he steps away from them, panting as he shakes one off of his leg, then he looks up. a shot from a slug rifle catches him in the shoulder, and he falls onto his back, hard.

dazed and exhausted, banshee groans and tries to push himself back up. he lifts his head to see a legionary storming his way. it grunts something into its comms, before lifting a massive boot, and bringing it down at banshee. banshee throws his arms up to try to stop it, planting his hands firmly on the treads and pushing up as the legionary pushes down.

a guttural sound builds in banshee’s throat as he exerts as much strength as he can muster under such pressure, a straining growl, that becomes a roar, loud and angry enough to put lord shaxx to shame. he pushes the legionary’s boot back, further, then further…

the legionary lifts its leg back abruptly, banshee’s hands slip. it brings it back down with twice more force than before, directly onto banshee’s chest. the exo crunches sickeningly as his chest is crushed, his head falls back as all of the air is forced out of him at once in a horrible wheeze. he releases his rifle, and coughs once, then starts to gasp and choke.

barely, he hears the soldier grunt again into its comms as it lumbers away. it cocks its weapon, then it’s gone. 

banshee’s left alone, staring up into the dark sky, clouds having changed to a faint, violent red as fire overtook the tower. the taste of smoke and bitter oil pools in the back of his throat as he weakly sputters, choking softly. a single, red leaf passes by overhead. his flickering eyes follow it away, until he can’t see anymore.