Momo Phan - The Blue Swallow Saloon

Momo barely jumped, his arm swinging up as he eyed the door, the thief forgotten for the moment.

His finger twitched and then stilled as he leveled his Whisper Pistol at the door. He was ready as could be.[9]http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4482636/

"Shoulda brought the rifle," he called to Gareth.

 

Chang Stevens - The Blue Swallow Saloon

Chang is disappointed that the lawman wouldn't listen to him, but the lawman did stop, and that means he wasn't continuing to pursue Jo. Mission accomplished.

The rapid sound of gunfire is Chang's very polite invitation that the time for talk is over, and the time for abhorrent levels of violence has started. Unfortunately, the gunshots are coming from his employer's last location, and he happens to like Jo, and so he's forced to come to the realization that he can't just call it a Shun-sheng duh gao-wahn and wait for them back at the ship. However, staying in an enclosed bar with panicking populace isn't healthy. So he heads outside, to try to get a better perspective of what the hell is going on. Unfortunately, having captain stupid self-elect to go figure anything out is probably going to just make things worse. (Notice 4)

 

Gareth Clark - The Blue Swallow Saloon

As gunfire erupted, reflexes honed in war took over. My hand automatically went inside my coat, fingers closing around the worn grip of the old 1911 in my shoulder holster and drawing it out.

I took a quick moment to get my bearings as best I could with the saloon erupting into chaos. Didn’t seem like the shooting was coming from here in the saloon. Sounded like the shots were coming from the back -- right where Jo was headed with Oberon. Didn’t that figure.

I tried to take account of our people in the room in the midst of the chaos. Momo had his neat little Whisper gun out and ready, while I’d seen that Chang had been quick to head for the door when the shooting started. Least he had the sense to get out of harm’s way. I was still dumbfounded at his little attempt at ordering the sheriff around. "I am an important person." Tiān cái.

Momo called out to me over the din. “Shouldn’t have needed the rifle,” I returned. “Can’t believe how fast this went to shit.”

I stretched out my awareness and scanned the room, drawing on my experience with picking out targets to search the crowd for those thugs I’d seen at the poker table. They’d been armed, they’d been interested in our affairs, and they’d been moving around the back last I knew. If I had to pin this on anyone it’d be them. [Rolled for Notice check, got a 15.]

That done, I turned to the sheriff. I reached again into my jacket, pulling out my Goldmund-Teller badge and flashing it at him. It was a risk to be sure, but the reward could’ve been substantial. Hopefully he was as respectable as he had seemed. “Truly sorry to’ve been deceiving you, sheriff, and I apologize for treading on your toes here, but this is a delicate operation. Well, was anyway.”

I had dropped any pretense of being drunk, which I’m sure he’d found flimsy anyway, and looked him in the eye. “Now I suspect you’re after the same man we are, and I don’t see no reason in us getting in a tussle right here and now about this with bullets flying. We’re on the same side, or at least I hope we are. I suggest we work together to retrieve this fella, and once the dust has settled we can resolve any of our differences amicably.” [Rolled for Influence, got another 15. Shiny.]

 

Captain Long Sinh - Aboard the Manifest Destiny

All thoughts of profit fled from Sinh's mind (Opportunity, Money is Mighty Tempting) as the proximity alarm spun up. Like a light switch had been flipped, the captain's face went from mild to murderous in a trice.

"Cào nǐ zǔ zōng shí bā dài!" She screeched, jamming the roll of bills in her coat pocket. "We have a deal, Mr. Wolfe; as long as I don't find the Alliance crawling up my ass I could care less what trouble is following you. Now, I suggest you pick a cabin, because it sounds like we're about to have company."

With that, the captain stalked angrily away into the corridors. If this is a false alarm, I'm going to push that fucking cripple down the elevator shaft. She thought darkly.

She wouldn't put anyone else behind the controls including herself, but sometimes he had bright ideas that turned out not so bright.

If it wasn't a false alarm...she'd have other problems to deal with. With that thought spurring her, she broke into a run (15), flying through the corridors as only a runaway could.

 

Sam Bose - Aboard the Manifest Destiny

Sam smirks as he hears the apology.

"Maybe that gǒu niáng yǎng de isn't so bad after all." He thinks to himself. Still a bastard though.

He makes his way past the captain as he overhears her discussing something with Mister Wolfe. The look on her face makes him think twice about joining the conversation so he gives a respectful nod and moves on.

He's up the stairs and at the engine-room door when the klaxon sounds. With a curse and a sigh he sets foot inside.

Hopefully the Destiny wouldn't be put through too much of a beating today.

 

William Davis - Aboard The Manifest Destiny

Proximity alarm.

He saw the Captain rushing through the corridors with speed and grace, barely hindered by the confine space. The client, Mr. Wolfe, was still standing in the cargo bay bewildered by the sudden departure of Sinh. Without wasting time, William made his way to the man.

"If you'll follow me sir, I'll escort you back to your quarters."

He knew the Captain wouldn't like the man to be wandering around without supervision during this unexpected situation. He didn't wait for Wolfe's answer and turned around, walking in the direction of the guests' quarters (2)[+2 JINXES]

 

#The Blue Swallow Saloon


Jo

Just as you find your moment of zen and the iron sights of your rifle are perfectly aligned, the gorram thief gives an odd little gasp beside you. You spare a glance, taking your eyes from the door for perhaps half a second. Wǒde tiān á! Oberon's Been Shot (D6). You must've missed it all in the confusion. His hands are coated in blood and pressed to his stomach, his eyes wide with surprise and mouth agape, trying to form silent words.

Just your luck, in that moment of distraction, the door is kicked in and your assailant bursts in shooting [19 - 13 - Spent a GM PP]. You're a second too slow with your trigger finger and you gasp as a bullet takes you through the shoulder, sending you crashing backwards into the rack of broken glass behind you.

You're perhaps not much surprised to find that your attacker is the woman that had sat in front of the bar only a few moments ago.


Take a PP for the Jinx. The way I see it you've got the choice of being Taken Out, spending a PP to stay in the fight with a D8 consequence, or spending a PP to roll a BDH die.


Gareth

It doesn't take you two seconds to spot the three thugs in question, even with all these tā mā de locals getting in the way. They've stopped just before the door through which Jo and Oberon had vanished only moments ago, they've all drawn guns, but to your surprise, none of them looks like the heavy artillery required to produce the sort of racket you just heard. You can tell they're hesitating, having a serious conversation about whether they should open that door.

But, as you look at them, you realise there's something more to these guys. Something you hadn't spotted before. Perhaps it's a childhood growing up how you did, around the sorts of people you did, but you recognise now that these aren't your usual thugs. Mayhaps it's just something in their bearing, but you reckon these men are law enforcement of some sort.


Momo and Gareth

Say what you like for the Sheriff, he's fast on the draw and he evidently ain't no coward. His gun appears in his hand faster than lightning strikes and he's already looking around for the shooting. When he identifies the source, he's all ready to move in that direction, it's only you two speaking that slows him down. He looks at the pair of you and carefully considers the firearms in your hands, lingering particularly on the Whisper Pistol.

Then he takes in Gareth's badge and his eyes widen in surprise [9 - 15]. "Nǐkāi wán xiào ma? What sort of trouble has that gorram fool gotten himself involved in now?" But he nods his assent nonetheless. "Listen, we need to have a serious conversation about jurisdiction and that there gun." He gives a significant look toward Momo. "But you're right. Now's not the time."

And with that said, he heads toward the door at the end of the room, barking orders towards the three men already there, who immediately defer to him.


Gareth, take a D8 BDH die.


Chang

You're not the only one who has the idea to get the fuck out of there. You're caught in a mad press to get through the front door and as you burst through, you find yourself tripped by an errant leg and go sprawling on the floor outside. A boot lands heavily on your hand and you hear a dull cracking noise. Pain lances through your entire arm. Fuck. You're pretty sure you've got you some Broken Fingers (D6).

Nonetheless, you've had worse and you climb gingerly to your feet, taking in the scene around you [6 - 4], trying to get a bead on precisely what's happening. Unfortunately between the screams of the crowd pouring out of the front of the bar, the dull ache in your fingers and the cloud of dust whipped up by dozens of pairs of boots makes it nearly impossible for you to determine anything other than the gunfire coming from the rear of the building.


Take a PP for the Jinx.


Aboard the Manifest Destiny

The Captain and Pilot fly through the halls of The Manifest Destiny at top speed, waiting for nothing. Nick takes an early lead, but he's passing through the galley when there's a loud bang and a puff of smoke from his chair; sounds like a Blown Gasket (D6). It doesn't bring him to a standstill, but Sinh does overtake him as they pass through the galley area. The news that greets the pair of you as you reach the bridge ain't good. An Arbitrator Class Patrol Boat is bearing down on you at a rate of knots.

The readout begins bringing up the callsign 'Mike Oscar Oscar—' before it's abruptly cut off by a burst of static across the display. They're using a gorram Jammer.

But Captain Sinh is able to finish it off by rote. 'Mike Oscar Oscar Kilo One' is the callsign for The Light of Osiris, a decommissioned Alliance vessel now in the hands of the Triads; one of many ships owned by your father. You can't tell if they've identified your ship, or if they want something else altogether. But either way it seems like you're due a reunion.


Take a PP for that Jinx. And that's a D8 BDH die for the Captain.

 

Nick King - Aboard the Manifest Destiny

"Tā mā de!"

That, that was unfortunate. Nick might have been a little lax at taking care of his chair now and then, but that was just shit luck. He was all but hobbled with that gasket blown. More. Still, no time to look at it now; the Captain had charged past him when his chair lost speed, so she must've had a bad feeling about this too.

Nick managed to get the chair to crawl into the bridge just in time to see the call-sign of whoever the fuck was bearing down on them in a gorramn patrol boat disappear in a burst of jammer-induced static, see Long's face pale, and hear her almost unconsciously finish the call-sign aloud. Motherfucker. That had to be triads. Nothing else would merit that sort of reaction from her when coupled with familiarity enough to finish the call sign. Nobody else would have their hands on a ship like that.

Nick was torn, but only for a moment. The GTs on the ground could take of themselves; they were after some kind of art thief anyway, so how much trouble could they possibly get into while the crew took care of this? So he made his was to the controls, and paused, just short of prepping for launch.

"Long? What do you want me to do?"

While he waited for a response, Nick started warming up the systems and rerouting all power not needed to launch into the cannons [13]. He'd wait on Long's word to launch and fight or run, but it wouldn't hurt to be ready.

 

Chang Stevens- Blue Swallon Saloon (exterior)

Chang winces as he holds his busted hand close to his body, to protect it. At least it's not th face He reminds himself, to distract him from the pain. Chang debates just heading back to the safety of the ship now, and getting the doc to look at it, but another gunshot rings out, and duty calls again.

Looking about, he sees a giant herd of previously violent people, and quite a few sounds of violence coming from the back of the bar. Now, if he was a proper fightin type he'd charge out back and lay down the fusticuffs and violence, like Momo or Gareth would. But...since he's not really into that, he's got to think smarter.

Chang jumps on top of a barrel. He's never done anything like this before, and if this messes up he's going to be called a Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze at his funeral. But if this works, well then. He shouts at the top of his lungs, attracting everyone's attention.

"Those bastards shot up our bar! Are we going to take that? They're behind the bar, so Let's Get 'Em!" He points behind the bar at the sound of gunfire.
(Influence 19)
Oh Please please please work Chang hopes with all his heart.

1 pp spent to use BDH die

 

Momo Phan - Blue Swallow Saloon


Momo glared at the lawman, contemplating a rebuttal to the comment about his gun. He decided to ignore it in favor of calling back to Gareth, "Next time, I want to bring grenades." He leapt over the bar, aiming for the wall behind it. [8]

He slammed, hard enough to rattle teeth, into the wall of the little cubby holding his boss and the thief. The thugs were right on the other side of the corner. He brought his pistol up and peaked his head around the corner.

"Drop the weapons and we'll think about letting you keep your asses intact." He called out. [7]

 

Jolene Ang - The Blue Swallow Saloon

"Gǒu niáng yǎng de!" I gasp as I lay on the floor, the breath all but gone from me. I've been shot a couple of times before, but it never gets any less painful. I manage to twist around so that I'm facing the door, grabbing hold of my rifle with my good hand as I go. There's no chance in hell of me firing it at this bitch and having any hope of hitting, but I feel better with the gun in my hand than I do without.

I turn my attention to the woman that shot me and give her my best pained grimace.

"So, I guess you're after the painting too."

It hurts to speak, but I know now that my only chance is to stall for time and hope Momo and Gareth turn up. I give her another glare and motion with my rifle towards Oberon, who is whimpering behind the barrel. 'Niáng niáng qiāng.'

An idea hits me in that moment and I do what I can to point my rifle at him, using my legs to brace it.

"Well, you can't have it." I wince in pain. "You shoot me, I shoot him. We both lose."

The pain is just getting worse as I continue talking, but I need to stall her as long as I can and the best way to do that is to get her talking. String her along until I can get some back up. If it doesn't go my way, well, I'm being paid to take this guy off the streets. Least I can do is fulfil the contract.

"So, how about we compromise?"

(Influence roll - Social, Influence, Honest Girl at D4 for a PP... Oh fuck me with a rake. 2 jinxes? Really?)

 

Gareth Clark - The Blue Swallow Saloon

The familiar way to which the sheriff had just referred to Oberon added more credence to my theory that this fellow we were after was not, in fact, the art-thief extraordinaire as we were led to believe. Things just weren’t adding up. At least if he was Oberon, then clearly his shadowy reputation wasn’t holding much water.

Of course if that theory were correct, that called into question several things. For one, the reliability of Goldmund-Teller’s information gathering capabilities, but more immediately: if this guy weren’t Oberon, who was he? And why was all this fuss being raised about him?

I chuckled. “After today, Jo might just be receptive to that idea,” I said.

I was glad the sheriff had agreed to cooperate. He'd regrouped with his cohorts, maybe deputies or something along those lines, who’d I’d mistaken for thugs earlier. In my defense, they’d sure looked thuggish. Hell, they were better at acting like thugs than blending in a crowd, that was for sure. Least they were on our side, for now.

My brow furrowed. Those ones were accounted for, but that woman sure weren’t. I’d lost track of her in the tussle, but she’d been even more suspicious than those guys had been. I didn’t recognize those tattoos of hers, or see much of them in the first place for that matter, but ink like that usually pointed to gang markings of some kind. And any involvement on that front was bad news, for certain. Foolish of me to not have kept a better eye on her, in hindsight.

Momo joined the sheriff and his men by the door, and I followed. The shooting had stopped. I knew Jo and Oberon could have both been lying dead on the other side of that door, but I did my best to suppress those worries. Couldn't just go barging in there. Had to have a plan.

As Momo announced his threat and we waited for a response, I leaned in and spoke lowly to the sheriff. “We got six armed men on this side of the door, and this ain’t exactly a big space. Whoever’s on the other side’s got an automatic weapon. We all try to squeeze through that door and they’re liable to turn that room into a meat grinder. Not to mention we all breach here, and they could just run right back outside and lose us before we can get after them.”

With a mind of its own, my hand reached into my coat pocket to take out a fresh cigarette. I didn’t light it -- just sort of held it between my lips. I continued, “I reckon they’ll be expecting local law enforcement, but me and my partner should still be off their radar. We’ll split up. Your group here, while we head outside and swing towards the back to cut them off.”

I looked around. Moving through that crowd outside was inadvisable, least if we wanted to get in position in any hurry. We needed another way to go.

[Spending 1 PP to create a “Window (d6)” Asset.]

My eyes found a window nearby. Good. We could take a shortcut rather than having to go around the front.

I looked over at Momo, and gestured for him to follow. Then I opened up the window, hopped out, and began moving along the outer wall. Did this many a time back in the war. Hopefully though, unlike the war, none of the people I'd just been speaking with would be messily killed in the next few minutes. [Rolling to Move, got a 9.]

 

The Blue Swallow Saloon

Chang

The crowd around you quietens down as you speak, their grimey, panicked faces fixed on you, evidently hanging off your every word with rapt attention. When you finish speaking, there's a brief murmuring amongst them as they discuss your words. Then a tall, broad man with a black eye, you think perhaps even the same one that Gareth tossed to the ground, throws his hat in the air.

"He's gorram right!" he shouts, grabbing you by the arm and thrusting it into the air.

The crowd erupt into a massive roar [6 - 19], signifying their approval of your plan. The very next moment around twenty people are throwing hats on the ground, rolling up their sleeves, drawing firearms and then charging down the side of the saloon, cheering as they go.

The tall, broad hick pulls you by the arm and takes the lead, shouting at the top of his breath. "Let's show these yān guò de hún dàn that Hidden Acres folks ain't no gorram cowards! Yeeehaw!"

Take a D12 BDH die, you big damn hero.



Gareth and Momo

The Saloon has pretty much emptied now. There's some sort of ferocious commotion out the front, but only the overturned chairs, debris and a single glass slowly rolling across the middle of the floor indicates that two minutes ago this was the liveliest place in town by a fair distance.

You catch some dull murmuring from the back room, but either the walls are thick enough for your voice to be too muffled to be audible or it doesn't altogether seem like they're in a talking mood. There's no response.



Gareth

The Sheriff nods his assent to your plan and gestures to his men. They've all got long, pale expressions on their faces. You both reckon they don't much want to be doing this, their apprehension is palpable. Sheriff doesn't seem to have altogether noticed— maybe he's used to it, or maybe he's just ignoring it.

"We'll move in ten seconds, shift yerselves and get into position. Start counting," he snaps.

By the count of three, you're through the window. Four and five you waste, catching your foot on the sill. Six, seven, eight— you hesitate [10 - 9] as you realise that the loud commotion you'd heard earlier is now descending upon you. As you look down the alley, back toward the street, you see a gorram army of hicks, all tooled up and looking to do some violence, lead from the front by none other than Chang.



Jo

The woman cocks her head to the side and a smug grin slowly spreads across her face. For whatever reason, what you just said has evidently tickled her. You know you're not in a state to be wildly threatening right now, with your blood spilling out onto the floor from your Wounded Shoulder (D8) and your limbs growing heavier by the moment. She shakes her head, shoulders the assault rifle in her hands and levels it in your direction.


"Not here for painting," she says, a note of humour in her voice. "He not have it. No compromise. [10 - 6]"

The excruciating shooting pains in your arm intensify, you glance down at your Wounded Shoulder (D12) and note that the bleeding is getting worse with every movement.

"You not long for this world, I think," she says, perhaps there's a tone of sympathy there. "I get what I come for."

Her finger tightens on the trigger as she prepares to shoot, then she abruptly takes aim at Oberon [16 - Spending a GM PP].

Opportunity there if you want to grab it.



The Manifest Destiny

William

Barnabus seems somewhat surprised and more than a little bewildered by the Captain's actions, but he smiles affably when you offer to take him back to his quarters and gestures toward the large blast doors that separate the passengers from the rest of the ship.

"Lead on," he says, with a curt little nod.

You do precisely that, but as you pass through the doors ahead of him, your portable cortex tablet gives a little ping. It takes you a second and a couple of paces to realise precisely what it means, then you recognise it as the sound of your tablet wirelessly pairing with another device. Very peculiar. You glance down at it and realise that the reformatting process has been halted and that it has made a connection with the— ships security system?

A split second later there's a bellowing siren sounding off behind you and you spin to see the pneumatic pistons slam the doors shut, trapping you in the crew section and Barnabus outside. You hear a faint banging on the metal from the other side and a muffled voice echoing through.

"You alright, kid? Are you hurt? Can you open the door?"

The security panel to the right of the door glows red and the white text on it reads 'Full Security Lockdown'. Wǒ de mā! Experience tells you that there's likely six levels of security on a lockdown like this. You might be able to hack it, on a good day, with a fully working tablet.

You look down at the offending item and curse. Turns out that the virus wasn't as gone as you'd thought. From the looks of it, you reckon that it reared it's ugly head to pair your device, activate the protocol and then lock you out of the tablet. On the plus side, knowing what vulnerabilities it happens to be exploiting tells you pretty much how the virus is operating, on the other hand, you're stuck on the wrong side of a blast door and your ticket out is infected with a Heimdall Trojan (D10).

It doesn't come much worse than that.


Nick

Years of experience at the helm of this baby mean that you've no sooner got to the controls than she's purring like a kitten and ready to go. Fight or Flight (D6) you're ready for action, but gorram it, if Long doesn't make a decision soon, they'll be on you.

D6 BDH Die there for you. Also a free asset until the end of the scene and an opportunity.

 

Captain Long Sinh - Aboard the Manifest Destiny

Triad.

Of anyone in the black to find me...

Someone had to have fucking squealed on her. Sinh didn't get caught like this.

Not the crew. They had an intimate relationship with her reaction to being screwed over, and as such, knew better.

Wolfe? Possible. Triad bookies never forgot a debt. But a Long family ship of all of them?

Coincidences are fairy tales that suckers tell themselves right before they get caught.

Her rapidly rising fear and disbelief gave way to a roaring outrage and malice. Who cared how they came here? The Light of Osiris was Triad, and it was in her sights.

Her knuckles white, she pounded the wall once, furiously, voice rising to screeching heights.

"King...blow those Triad wáng bā dàn and their yi da tuo da bian ship out of my fucking sky!"

 

Nick King - Aboard the Manifest Destiny

"Yes ma'am!" Nick said, voice rising with a mixture of fear and excitement. It had been a long time since he had seen proper combat. He smashed the button for launch, and the ship began to run through the sequence.

"We don't have time to talk this over right now, but that damn alarm isn't helping my feelings about that gorram passenger! He's up to something, Long, and I don't fucking like it!"

Indictment of the newest member of the ship finally successfully delivered to the Captain, Nick focused his full attention on flying the boat. Just in time. Moments after he finished speaking, he had the Destiny in the air, spiraling around to try and take a slight angle on the patrol boat. It was times like these he was glad that him and Sam had convinced the Captain to let them soup up the engines. Without their upgrades to the speed of the boat, he'd have never managed such a maneuver [18, -2PP, -1BDH]. That, and the adrenaline that was coursing through his body didn't hurt anything he was doing one bit.

As soon as he was satisfied that he was out of their line of fire, and lined up with his cannons, he let loose a barrage from his cannons [16, -1PP]. Those jiàn huò had come after the wrong ship!

 

Chang Stevens, Blue Swallow Saloon (exterior)

Chang smiles as his ploy works, and the rowdy rabble rumble towards the back of the shed. And then he screams with them, as the big burly brute grabs on to his broken hand and thrusts in high in the air. Surely the townsfolk see it as a rallying scream of rage. Chang and his fingers know the truth, that his broken fingers are now mangled properly. Tears bleed from his yes, but in the gathering dusk they are lost to all but the most careful of observers. And anyone that is watching a mob that closely is damn weird.

Of course it would work out this way. You have to suffer to lead people. And no suffering quite like the suffering of exquisitely painful fingers. Why couldn't that toe-dah have grabbed the other hand. Those ones worked fine. Then again he could have just as easily broken those as well, and then i'd be completely out of a job. What use is a secretary that can't type?

Charging around the corner, he sees Gareth pop out a window. "He's one of us!" Chang shouts quickly to the group, before gesturing a 'come here' wave to Gareth. "Come on man, we're after those Huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo that shot up our bar! Keep Going!" He urges on the crowd, trying not to get Gareth murdered by the motley mob he has assembled behind him. Chang however, is still riding high on his successful gambit.

Now lets go put a stop to some guys shooting up the bar. I hate violence, especially bullet violence. Chang thinks, as he leads a mob of horrifically violent people to go do some violence.

 

Jolene Ang - The Blue Swallow Saloon

"No!" I gasp with what little breath is left in my lungs. It's painful to breathe now and I can't feel my arm. I feel weak, like I've spent days starving in the desert. I feel tired.

That doesn't stop me from reacting, swinging the rifle around one handed, resting on my knees to point at the woman who shot me. It takes everything I have, every war torn memory of fighting beyond the point of exhaustion, beyond the point of just wanting it all to end, beyond the pitiless no man's land of Serenity Valley.

I don't wait to aim, I don't have time. I don't try to steady the gun, I don't have the strength. All I do is pull the trigger and trust that this rifle that has protected my family since days beyond reckoning will do its job again. I fire... and I miss.

(Shoot roll - Physical, Shoot, Signature Asset, Veteran of the Unification War. Spending 1 PP. Rolled 15 and a jinx. Fuck my life.)

 

Gareth Clark - The Blue Swallow Saloon

Remember that part in the plan, where as I was moving to the back door I’d encounter a mob of angry, drunk rednecks trying to storm the saloon, led by our witless secretary?

No?

Because that weren’t in the fucking plan.

“Chang, you dumb son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath. All he had to do was get out of the line of fire, find somewhere safe, and wait. But no, instead he's off on his own for thirty seconds and he gets a gorram mob started. Jesus.

Ten seconds, the sheriff said. He’d be going in any moment, and here I was faced with this horseshit. If these people tried going after this guy, they were likely to get filled with holes for their trouble. And if they did get him, they were probably going to try and lynch him. Neither of those outcomes was something I was going to allow to happen.

But I didn’t have time to try and talk down a lynch mob. That left me with getting to this guy before they did. I’d deal with them after.

Chang called out to me, but I ignored him and focused on my original goal. The wall was all shot up, the bullets going through the old wood of the saloon easily. The door’d been kicked in. Couldn’t see beyond that.

I ran towards the doorway, just as a shot rang out. A bullet embedded itself in the door a scant foot from my face as I passed the threshold. I paused, surprised, but only for a moment. Then I whipped up my gun, scanning the room.

Well. Not a guy, but a gal. The tattooed mystery woman from the bar, in fact. Weren’t that just shiny?

She stood over Jo and Oberon, who, to put it lightly, were a bit worse for wear. I just spared a glance, but it looked like they’d both been shot and were bleeding bad. Despite looking like hell, Jolene was still fighting, her old Winchester raised and pointed at the woman. She was like that. Strong as she was though, blood loss to that extent was liable to make anyone shake enough to miss their mark. Given the circumstances I could forgive her nearly taking my head off in the process. Right then I was just glad she was still alive.

The woman turned to me as I leveled my pistol at her, pulling out my badge with my free hand.

“Freeze!” I barked. “Drop the gun and put your hands over your head, now!”

Hopefully she'd comply. But those tattoos had me worried. Some of those gangs were real proud, and would rather die than lay down their arms for the law.

But that gun was dropping one way or another once the sheriff and his men came in.

[Rolling Influence and using the Fed Distinction as a d4 for 1 PP. Result: 6, +1 Jinx. Fuck that, spending 1 PP to use a BDHD d8. New result: 10. Oh well.]

 

The Blue Swallow Saloon

The woman drops her weapon [6 - 10] and lifts her hands to hold the tight bun on the back of her head. Slowly, she kneels before Gareth and he spots the small, self-satisfied smirk on her face. A second glance beyond her tells him all he needs to know; Oberon's glassy eyes stare upward at the ceiling, unseeing.

A split second later and pandemonium breaks loose; as Chang and his blood thirsty mob reach the door to the Saloon's back room and swarm into the back room. A moment after that, the Sheriff, his men and Momo burst in from the opposite direction. Everyone's shouting, pointing fingers and waving weapons indiscriminately without any hope of anyone hearing what anyone's got to say.

Through it all, the Asian woman wears a smug smile, hands on the back of her head, not moving a muscle.

And with that we'll take the end of the scene.


Aboard the Manifest Destiny

Nick's picture perfect take-off seems to leave The Light of Osiris floundering for a moment[12 - 18], completely unable to match the speed, agility or pilot of The Manifest Destiny. It's only as it shoots past you that you realised they'd picked up ramming speed, those niào shī de dǔguǐ. You'd wager nobody could have ever expected a Hades Class Prison Transport to move quite like yours does and you seem to have caught them flat-footed for a moment.

However, circling to the back of their ship doesn't seem to do you an awful lot of good. The turrets on the bottom of The Light of Osiris track you with uncanny precision, swivelling to open up on you as you reach the rear of their boat. On the one hand, it's lucky Nick's such a good pilot, dodging almost all of the return fire, on the other, you're unlucky as a stray laser nicks your primary thruster. Ruttin' hell, your Resonant Catalyst is on Fire (D6) causing The Manifest to start wildly rocking. All of it is enough to send your shots wide.

You think you've weathered the worst of it when two objects shoot forward [17 - 16 | -1 GM PP] out of The Light of Osiris, then abruptly turn in sharp hairpins, leaving pretty little vapour-trails behind them. All the instruments in the cockpit begin flashing red warning messages, nǐkāi wán xiào ma?

Two heat-seekers have locked on to you and are closing in fast. You'd best come up with a plan quickly or you're humped.

Take a D8 BDH die and a PP. You'll have to do something about those there rockets, too. Another BDH'll probably do it. Or spend a PP to take the hit at a D8 consequence.

 

Sam Bose - Aboard the Manifest Destiny

Sam was buckled in as soon as he felt the ship lift off. From the feel of the ship as she went through her maneuvers this was about to be a rough ride.

A string of curses left Sam's mouth only to be cut off as the ship shudders.

"Weapons fire," flits through Sam's head before flames burst in the engine room. Sam grabs the fire extinguisher to put out the fire, then grabs his toolkit and gets to work. (17; Spend 1 PP to add the 5).

OOC: If this is a Timed Action I'll spend another PP to re-roll. If its not, then uh-oh.