06-02-2015, 10:27 PM
“Fear isn’t always the best law live by, friend.” Roland stood beside the lithe red man, the dusty wind whipping through the streets of the city. He casually pulled on the brim of his hat, shielding his eyes from the sand as it blasted across them. “Sometimes it’s better to be loved than feared.”
“It is better to be both loved and feared,” Sinestro said calmly, his arms crossing in front of him, back arched and nose high, “but if you must choose one? Choose fear.”
“Heh,” the sheriff said and turned around. “I guess you might be right.” He tilted his head down and slowly walked towards his office, the spurs on his ankles ringing as he went. “But for now, let’s focus on both.” He gestured towards the road out of town, “They’re already on their way. Remember that everything moves at the same pace out here so you’ll have to cut ‘em off with smarts, not speed.” His baleful eyes narrowed once again, “And you’d better do right by my kin.”
Nodding, Sinestro tugged firmly on his filthy poncho, pulling it back into place. “Of course,” he said snidely, the sheriff already walking back to his office, “I will be a paragon of the people, as I was in another life.”
The old lawman paused mid-step, the words catching his heart like a bear trap. The two men stood, trapped in memories of another world, another destiny. Day and night seemed to turn; lives that might have been flashed before them. The things they had, they things they were, the things they could never pursue again. Finally Roland’s foot hit the ground and the two men were painfully torn back to reality. They each covered wounds of longing with the lie of necessity, hugging a cause to their bleeding chests as a bandage.
The Gunslinger once again became a sheriff of a deserted city, and the Greatest Lantern once again became a stranger with something to prove.
---
With her feet kicked up on the dash, the woman watched over the plains of sand from the driver’s seat of the massive war truck. Light distorted into waving lines as the air bent under extreme heat, the cammo netting that was draped over the vehicle offering no relief from the sun. She snatched a bottle of hot water and sprayed it over her face and hair, chugging down what remained.
She was no stranger to heat and it was no stranger to her. They had formed a powerful bond in their time together; the sweltering sun and relentless, endless desert ensured it. Long days had been spent under the burning sky, sweat flowing from every pore like a fountain. She was born in this desert, and there were no secrets between them.
Tearing a bite from her jerky, she lazily lifted her binoculars and watched as a trio of travellers exited the town. They were going at a good clip, probably max speed for a vehicle. They were riding horses, or at least two of them were. The third was riding a speeder bike, probably dreamt up by some scum from Tatooine.
They sure as hell weren’t concerned with being noticed, and they couldn’t have been headed far if they were willing to push their rides that hard. Fuel came from omni, and omni didn’t grow on trees. Not that there were any trees around here anyways. Definitely horse thieves. She didn’t recognize any of them. Probably goons from another gang. Maybe some of Humungus’ fuck heads. Maybe they were free-lancers. Either way she didn’t like people encroaching on Sledge’s turf.
Snatching her laser rifle, she kicked open the door, jumped outside, and threaded the barrel through the open window. Tracking the goon at the back of the line, she knew she could take him off his bike from here. If it was any other day she would have, but slowly she caved to better judgment. She needed to keep her head low. She couldn’t just go off popping rival gangs, not unless they were the ones that came after her compound and fragged their guzzoline.
With a sigh she withdrew her rifle and tossed it back into the truck despondently. They would have been good kills, and she hadn’t had any since she took Jessie. Just as she had plopped back down in her seat and slammed the door, a fourth figure came out of the city. They were tall, wearing a big hat with a long-rifle. Most importantly though, they were riding a camel.
She slung her feet down onto the pedals, cranked the key to the engine, and slammed on the gas.
---
The horse thieves had been in town before but the recently-deceased deputy had always failed to catch them. Sinestro supposed it was due to the over-excitability he had seen in her last moments. It takes more than just getting on a horse and chasing after your opponents to really run them down.
Every vehicle in the Omniverse travelled at the same speed, regardless of its origins, make, model, or relative technological advancement. This made it difficult to chase mounted criminals down, which incentivized a hit-and-run style of crime that had become the primary technique used by thieves in the area.
Roland told him to catch these three men. Sinestro would take horse theft off of the map.
“You ain’t gon’ catch us you red-assed idiot!” one of the buck-toothed criminals screamed back, several hundred feet ahead of Sinestro and his hump-backed mount.
A metallic member of the crew chirped out a rhythmic series of beeps and squeaks, oddly sounding like swearing before leveling his pistol backwards and letting off a few shots.
Without even a flinch, Sinestro rode heedlessly through the hail of bullets, none fired with enough patience or care to hit their mark. “Pathetic,” he growled and snatched the plain oak stock of his rifle, pulling it free from its long leather holster that rode low beside the saddle. Resting the barrel in the crook of his elbow, he placed his cheek down and looked down the sights. The reticle bounced with every step the camel made, jerking wildly as he focused in on the thief in the lead.
Breathe, focus, squeeze, he reminded himself.
Three quick shots popped off, followed by a fourth. One went wide, one sank into the horse’s rear limb, and one through the leg of the rider. The final shot split the creature’s skull but didn’t penetrate, a crack of the bone audible even from this far back.The mount and the buck-toothed bandit went down together in a tangled mess of kicking legs and sand. Their fellows drove on, rubbernecking unsympathetically as they passed.
“Hut!” Sinestro commanded, willing the animal to go faster despite its literal incapability. The thief saw the oncoming rider and writhed beneath her dead horse, struggling to reach her gun. Her dirty hands clawed at the ground until blood began to run from her fingertips, a look of insane desperation unveiling itself as her eyes bulged and veins popped up on her bloodied forehead.
Finally she pulled her injured leg free and she scrambled up to the half-buried revolver, reclaiming it from the sand. The camel galloped up within a few feet of her, its heavy feet casting earth and dust in every direction. Sinestro stared down upon his prey, his brow covered in sweat, his thin mustache curled into a snarl. Groaning, the thief lifted the weapon, her shaking hand aiming it only roughly at his chest. Their silhouettes stood against the sun behind them, the desert sky’s angry red eye glaring at their standoff as it sank below the dunes.
“Where are they taking them,” Sinestro demanded calmly.
The injured criminal screamed furiously and squeezed the trigger, her trembling hand missing by a mile. As the chamber rotated, the grit that had been packed into the gun seized the cylinder, and the hammer fell with a defeated sounding click. “No!” she swore and slapped the jammed weapon furiously. “NO!”
Sinestro quickly withdrew his long gun with one hand and leveled it at her face. “Where did they go, and who do you work for?”
A look of hatred and woe flashed over her face, her long blonde hair dragging on the ground. “It’s jus’ th’ three a’ us. There’s a stable up th’ road that we put up. We take th’ rides there to clean up and re-brand. “
“Good.” Without passion, the rifle coughed and a hole opened up in her forehead, just over her left eyebrow. Her body tremored once and went still, a trickle of blood sliding down the ground as it drained from her body.
Scanning the horizon with squinted eyes, he located the most likely location for the structure. “Hut!” he shouted and spurred his beast, leaving the dead behind him.
“It is better to be both loved and feared,” Sinestro said calmly, his arms crossing in front of him, back arched and nose high, “but if you must choose one? Choose fear.”
“Heh,” the sheriff said and turned around. “I guess you might be right.” He tilted his head down and slowly walked towards his office, the spurs on his ankles ringing as he went. “But for now, let’s focus on both.” He gestured towards the road out of town, “They’re already on their way. Remember that everything moves at the same pace out here so you’ll have to cut ‘em off with smarts, not speed.” His baleful eyes narrowed once again, “And you’d better do right by my kin.”
Nodding, Sinestro tugged firmly on his filthy poncho, pulling it back into place. “Of course,” he said snidely, the sheriff already walking back to his office, “I will be a paragon of the people, as I was in another life.”
The old lawman paused mid-step, the words catching his heart like a bear trap. The two men stood, trapped in memories of another world, another destiny. Day and night seemed to turn; lives that might have been flashed before them. The things they had, they things they were, the things they could never pursue again. Finally Roland’s foot hit the ground and the two men were painfully torn back to reality. They each covered wounds of longing with the lie of necessity, hugging a cause to their bleeding chests as a bandage.
The Gunslinger once again became a sheriff of a deserted city, and the Greatest Lantern once again became a stranger with something to prove.
---
With her feet kicked up on the dash, the woman watched over the plains of sand from the driver’s seat of the massive war truck. Light distorted into waving lines as the air bent under extreme heat, the cammo netting that was draped over the vehicle offering no relief from the sun. She snatched a bottle of hot water and sprayed it over her face and hair, chugging down what remained.
She was no stranger to heat and it was no stranger to her. They had formed a powerful bond in their time together; the sweltering sun and relentless, endless desert ensured it. Long days had been spent under the burning sky, sweat flowing from every pore like a fountain. She was born in this desert, and there were no secrets between them.
Tearing a bite from her jerky, she lazily lifted her binoculars and watched as a trio of travellers exited the town. They were going at a good clip, probably max speed for a vehicle. They were riding horses, or at least two of them were. The third was riding a speeder bike, probably dreamt up by some scum from Tatooine.
They sure as hell weren’t concerned with being noticed, and they couldn’t have been headed far if they were willing to push their rides that hard. Fuel came from omni, and omni didn’t grow on trees. Not that there were any trees around here anyways. Definitely horse thieves. She didn’t recognize any of them. Probably goons from another gang. Maybe some of Humungus’ fuck heads. Maybe they were free-lancers. Either way she didn’t like people encroaching on Sledge’s turf.
Snatching her laser rifle, she kicked open the door, jumped outside, and threaded the barrel through the open window. Tracking the goon at the back of the line, she knew she could take him off his bike from here. If it was any other day she would have, but slowly she caved to better judgment. She needed to keep her head low. She couldn’t just go off popping rival gangs, not unless they were the ones that came after her compound and fragged their guzzoline.
With a sigh she withdrew her rifle and tossed it back into the truck despondently. They would have been good kills, and she hadn’t had any since she took Jessie. Just as she had plopped back down in her seat and slammed the door, a fourth figure came out of the city. They were tall, wearing a big hat with a long-rifle. Most importantly though, they were riding a camel.
She slung her feet down onto the pedals, cranked the key to the engine, and slammed on the gas.
---
The horse thieves had been in town before but the recently-deceased deputy had always failed to catch them. Sinestro supposed it was due to the over-excitability he had seen in her last moments. It takes more than just getting on a horse and chasing after your opponents to really run them down.
Every vehicle in the Omniverse travelled at the same speed, regardless of its origins, make, model, or relative technological advancement. This made it difficult to chase mounted criminals down, which incentivized a hit-and-run style of crime that had become the primary technique used by thieves in the area.
Roland told him to catch these three men. Sinestro would take horse theft off of the map.
“You ain’t gon’ catch us you red-assed idiot!” one of the buck-toothed criminals screamed back, several hundred feet ahead of Sinestro and his hump-backed mount.
A metallic member of the crew chirped out a rhythmic series of beeps and squeaks, oddly sounding like swearing before leveling his pistol backwards and letting off a few shots.
Without even a flinch, Sinestro rode heedlessly through the hail of bullets, none fired with enough patience or care to hit their mark. “Pathetic,” he growled and snatched the plain oak stock of his rifle, pulling it free from its long leather holster that rode low beside the saddle. Resting the barrel in the crook of his elbow, he placed his cheek down and looked down the sights. The reticle bounced with every step the camel made, jerking wildly as he focused in on the thief in the lead.
Breathe, focus, squeeze, he reminded himself.
Three quick shots popped off, followed by a fourth. One went wide, one sank into the horse’s rear limb, and one through the leg of the rider. The final shot split the creature’s skull but didn’t penetrate, a crack of the bone audible even from this far back.The mount and the buck-toothed bandit went down together in a tangled mess of kicking legs and sand. Their fellows drove on, rubbernecking unsympathetically as they passed.
“Hut!” Sinestro commanded, willing the animal to go faster despite its literal incapability. The thief saw the oncoming rider and writhed beneath her dead horse, struggling to reach her gun. Her dirty hands clawed at the ground until blood began to run from her fingertips, a look of insane desperation unveiling itself as her eyes bulged and veins popped up on her bloodied forehead.
Finally she pulled her injured leg free and she scrambled up to the half-buried revolver, reclaiming it from the sand. The camel galloped up within a few feet of her, its heavy feet casting earth and dust in every direction. Sinestro stared down upon his prey, his brow covered in sweat, his thin mustache curled into a snarl. Groaning, the thief lifted the weapon, her shaking hand aiming it only roughly at his chest. Their silhouettes stood against the sun behind them, the desert sky’s angry red eye glaring at their standoff as it sank below the dunes.
“Where are they taking them,” Sinestro demanded calmly.
The injured criminal screamed furiously and squeezed the trigger, her trembling hand missing by a mile. As the chamber rotated, the grit that had been packed into the gun seized the cylinder, and the hammer fell with a defeated sounding click. “No!” she swore and slapped the jammed weapon furiously. “NO!”
Sinestro quickly withdrew his long gun with one hand and leveled it at her face. “Where did they go, and who do you work for?”
A look of hatred and woe flashed over her face, her long blonde hair dragging on the ground. “It’s jus’ th’ three a’ us. There’s a stable up th’ road that we put up. We take th’ rides there to clean up and re-brand. “
“Good.” Without passion, the rifle coughed and a hole opened up in her forehead, just over her left eyebrow. Her body tremored once and went still, a trickle of blood sliding down the ground as it drained from her body.
Scanning the horizon with squinted eyes, he located the most likely location for the structure. “Hut!” he shouted and spurred his beast, leaving the dead behind him.
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