epidemiology | (no subject)

[After the dust settled on the shootout, the ghost town remained just that—a ghost town. Abandoned for decades, and for good reason. With the ground caving in and unsteady, it's not safe to hang around, let alone live there. And most of the crew is smart enough to finish picking up and patching up from the ambush and head back out. But not all of them. Time to pick through the skeletons of the city while the picking's good.

Mostly it's nothing. Old buildings in varying states of shambles. Sinkholes so deep the bottom's a black pit. Wild animals. The occasional bit of old tech, though the distinction is made from the disrepair and not the design. Too alien for jumping to conclusions anywhere else. But not alien in the right way to be ALASTAIR.

Absently, he takes to turning the holodisc he'd uncovered with Asher's help ("help...") over in his fingers to busy his fingers while he picks through the bones of the buildings for the right sort of scrap. Hits the trigger on the fragment of data to play it again. The tinny recording crackles to life.

—roughly seven thousand kilometers until....due to this distance, we see no reason—

Clear as mud. The next piece of the puzzle is supposed to be hidden right here where they were attacked by the resident nut jobs. Coincidence? Maybe. Some coincidence, if it is.

Either way, it doesn't make for a laid-back stroll through the bones of the city. After ducking through the unsteady and abandoned maw of the old saloon—a dead and decaying mirror of the one in Perdition's Rest—he catches wind of the sound of footsteps outside. Could be the crew. Could be the bandits. Could be the nut jobs. Since there's really no downside to being discrete, he ducks behind the bar for cover while he works out what kind of company he's got.]

Edited 2016-11-02 02:18 (UTC)

placeholder bcuz i need 2 tag this

[Riza reports back to the sheriff after they finish up their skirmish in the badlands. It's something of a novelty to get thanked by the law for gunning down a bunch of dustbowl dirtbags in his spare time. While the payment that comes with it doesn't play a part in his decision to go tracking down the bandits that have been holding up stagecoaches along the supply lines to the town, the tip-off does help figure out how to go about it.

It's a pretty standard setup. Delivery leaves one location, disappears somewhere along the way. After enough staking out roadways and feeling out the territory, he's getting close to pinning down their bigger boltholes. Putting a scare into the right snitch only helps to narrow it down.

It's—unsurprisingly—not actually too far from the town proper. The cliffy outcroppings here make for a pretty good place to dump a stash. Close enough to the road to get there and back quickly. No muss. Far enough away that it's not immediately within eyeshot. Tucked away into crumbling stone and twisting mazelike rock. You won't see if unless you know what you're looking for. ...Or if you just happen to lose your way and stumble upon it through sheer dumb luck.

This time, though, they've left a trail. Something must have gotten damaged in the skirmish, because there are scattered goods littering the ground like breadcrumbs, left behind as the bandits booked it away from the scene of the crime. (Money, weapons, even bits of food drawing attention from the local animal population.) Doesn't take a detective to start following the clues. Hell, it's almost too easy. But if it's a trap, there's only one way to find out.]

[ Doesn't even take a puzzle game protagonist, if the one currently poking around the wreckage is anything to go by. ]

[ Thankfully it hasn't been too blazingly hot, so he'd been keeping up the running routine, or at least whenever he could feasibly get it in between all the happenings in town. The ever-present threat of bandits hanging over the place usually kept him from straying too close to the outskirts of town, but go figure one of the times he does, there's gotta be something intriguing scattered out across the desert landscape, off the beaten trail. Something out of place enough to get him to stop and squint, rock back and forth on his heels hesitantly. Maybe someone's wagon broke down or something? Maybe it's something more sinister! It's not like it's that far, is it? ]

[ It is that far. Sigma realizes this about halfway out, and by then it's the whole swimming-cross-the-ocean principle he has to live with, so eventually and miserably (but determinedly!) he reaches the end of the trail, scattering birds and rodents that had had the same idea as him, albeit with a marginally bigger appetite for uncooked grains. He follows the meager supplies and pocket change until he comes across a straight up revolver, and that's when he finally looks up and registers the rest of it. ]

[ Muttered under his breath, brow furrowed: ] The hell's all this doing out here?

[ Probably hiding, Sigma. Like bandits. ]

[ ... ]

[ Unfortunately, that doesn't stop him, so here it is. The aforementioned poking. Peering into the first less-than-sealed crate he comes across sitting so neatly wedged into this rocky alcove. ]

[Score one for puzzle game protag persistence—Sigma makes in there a little ahead of him. Following the breadcrumbs doesn't take long, but since the trail's looking freshly disturbed, there's no harm in exercising a little extra caution in case it all turns out to be a setup, given how excessively convenient it is. So far, so quiet. Maybe it's just that easy.

Quietly, he draws a gun and draws a bead at the suspicious silhouette in the mouth of the cave while ducking inside. But the stooped and snooping figure resolves itself pretty quickly into one mostly harmless fratboy. So instead, he lowers his weapon and opens his mouth.]

If it isn't Butch Cassidy. [This is loudly ironic, for the record. Feel free to be offended by the insinuation anyway.] I thought you and the Sundance Kid called it quits a long time ago.

[The bandits don't take kindly to him repossessing their ill-gotten gains. Can't imagine why. Since he's drawing a lot more heat all of a sudden, he's opted for taking a domino mask along most of the time to keep things professional. A little more flexible than the big red helmet sitting in his room at the inn. But enough to serve the purpose. Even if he doesn't tend to bother with keeping up identities with the cramped quarters of the crew, there's a time and a place for theatrics.

Like now, really. He's perched in the shadow of an overgrown alien cactus of some sort, just off the main roadway. And waiting for his cue. It comes in a loud snap-bang of gunpowder in the air, and the side of a canyon collapsing into the road, cutting off the path of the stagecoach trying to make its way back to town.

Right on schedule. A handful of bandits come piling out of the shadows and into the road to start with the hijacking. Jason ducks out of cover and lifts his gun, firing for the barrels of alien gunpowder as they get hauled away. They ignite in a bang, taking a handful of the bandits with them.]

Whups. Sorry fellas, thought this was an equal opportunity hijacking.

[No, he didn't. He's made enough of a nuisance of himself that recognition seems to ping in on a few outlaw faces almost immediately as they reach for their weapons.

(And while his attention's on the rustlers in front of him, one stray dirtbag takes the opportunity to creep around the side and aim a rifle at his back.)]

[ Bandits are a problem she's never really had the luxury (?) of having. Her battles have been, up until this point, usually one giant force against another, unlike the days where the Shepherds were enough to protect the kingdom. But the idea remains the same — two clashing goals, where one exists to take and the other to protect.

With this logic, Lucina doesn't have a hard time taking up "bandit clean up" duty.

It's frustrating, mostly because the desert provides a lot less cover than what she's typically used to. She's aware her blue sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the barren lands, and finds herself moving with caution. Not that it helps much; her only saving grace is that the bandits are clearly focused elsewhere, giving Lucina a clear shot —

As a proud member of the "act first, think later" club, Lucina sees the domino mask, vaguely registers the man behind the said mask, and the rifle aimed towards his back. That's all she needs, really, when a familiar name to her ( but not to him ) tumbles out of her lips, caution thrown into the wind as she unsheathes her sword. ] Gerome—!

[ She probably doesn't realize what she said, but she's very much aware of what she's doing when the blade of the Falchion stops inches away from the sneak's throat. ] Put your weapon down. [ She doesn't have a lot of time for this, she knows — but after the events of the Boneyard, she's a little more wary about killing on sight. ]

[You can't just assume everyone in a domino mask is the same dude, Lucina, that's probably offensive!!!

The danger pings in with the scuff of boots on the dirt behind him, the prickle of subconscious alarm at the back of his neck. He's already dropping when she intercepts, ducking down into a crouch and spinning to face the commotion. The hand not busy drawing a bead on the lion's share of the criminals reaches down toward his belt in preparation for—

Not that. Well. His hero. No time for the thank yous (or the Gerome, really?) just yet.]

Swing and a miss, She-Ra.

[The bandit she's holding up has gone and dropped his rifle to reach for the sky. But the rest take advantage of the distraction and begin to open fire. Jason ducks behind an outcropping in time to dodge out of the first wave, but it's still not great, and his impromptu assist is next on the list of targets. He can be a good sport. One good turn, and all.]

Hold your breath.

[He'd been reaching for a gun, but instead he grabs for a smallish canister so he can pull the pin and chuck it into the trigger happy crowd. Half a breath later, it starts hissing out thick smoke into the cramped walls of the canyon. A compact smokescreen, one of the few ace-in-the-hole toys that had come with him from Gotham. They're both way too close to risk anything more dramatic, but at least this will scatter the fire they're taking and give them some cover.]

[ Wow look she's met exactly one person with a mask on their face ever ( with the exception of herself ), it's not her fault that that's where her mind immediately jumped to??

Lucina knows a high-stakes situation when she sees it. She's hoping that the brief eye contact she had with the stranger means that a temporary alliance has been formed, using the man's body as a shield for any bullets that fly her way ( this isn't... her fault, not technically ). She does move the sword away from his throat though, kicking the rifle away to the side for good measure, just in time to catch a new set of instructions.

She doesn't think — she just does, holding her breath as instructed. Her head needs a minute to catch up until the smoke begins to appear from the canister, and all of it clicks into place, sort of. She has no idea what the gas is, but it's not difficult to add two and two together, even in the heat of battle. The body/shield is abandoned the moment confusion begins to be voiced among the bandits, head cocked to the side in an attempt to point Jason towards some kind of cover ( in this case, a lonely rock in the middle of the desert ).

She begins to move, before the smoke dissipates again. ]

[The enemy of my enemy, et cetera. For now, at least. She's pretty quick on the uptake and pretty obviously from the crew—he keeps loose tabs of who comes in and out, but even if he didn't, the locals aren't big on swords. And he can take a hint. She loses her shield, and they bolt for cover while the bolting's good. Pressing back against the face of the rock once they're clear, he doublechecks the clip on his pistol.]

Twenty seconds before that starts to thin out.

[Functionally less, if they're smart enough to stumble their way out of the fog and into the right direction.]

If you're leaving, now's the time.

[But from the look of it, he intends to stick around.]

[ A brief nod — she fixes the grip on her sword, hearing the confused-turning-annoyed cries of the bandits still stuck in the smoke. There's not a lot of time, especially when there's so many of their opponents and only two of them, one who can't stay behind cover if she wants to do something.

She weighs her choices, another part of her mind mentally counting down the seconds. The response only takes a second, with a curt shake of her head. ] Not at all.

[ A second glance over the rock reveals the smart(er) bandits, stumbling out of the smoke, and her eyes widen. ] We need to move now. [ She looks back to the man in the mask, and before he gives a response, she darts out from the rock, moving around and ( hopefully ) out of sight from the Deemers. As long as she can reach them before they start firing at her—

Take advantage in the lack of numbers while they can. ]

[And there she goes. Unless she's bulletproof, it's pretty ballsy. He ducks out to follow, but only close enough to be heard. No sense giving them one big target.]

Don't tell me you're the strictly "knife to a gunfight" type.

[This seems to be rhetorical, because he doesn't wait for her to answer. Ever consider upgrading, Lucina? Because all his has to do is duck out of cover for a clear shot. Weapon snapping up in a second to focus and firing with a loud crack of a gunshot when one of the bandits decides to raise a rifle in her direction. Instants later, a neat little circle appears right in the middle of the bandit's alien forehead. He drops like a stone.

But there's still plenty more where that came from, stumbling out of the smoke like a shooting gallery. And thinning the herd like that will only last another handful of seconds. If Lucina's looking to get a little closer, she'll need the cover. He can do team player in moderation.]

[ Rhetorical or not, Lucina still feels the need to respond. ] I admit, I've never familiarized myself with much else.

[ Spears, and swords, but never ... anything else, really. While guns appear to have some sort of superiority, picking up a new weapon means letting go of the Falchion, which she'll definitely have to pass on.

Also, she's fought against bowmen. This is close enough, right?

The corner of her eyes catch the bandit fall to the ground, though she makes no move to stop; it's obvious where the bullets came from, and she needs to pull her own weight, too. Her sword stabs through the middle of the other bandit ( not so smart anymore, huh ), the one that hasn't noticed her yet. His limp body sags forward, crumbling to the ground once the bloodied sword leaves his body.

She can take care of the ones that come out, disoriented, mistaking the sudden breath of fresh air as a break. Out of the pan and into the fire — it'll only work while the smoke holds up, but maybe by then they'll be able to thin the numbers out enough that this is more of a fair game than it was before. ]

[Sort of like hard mode bowmen I guess, sure.

He picks off another few targets as they come into view in the distance, counting down seconds and posse numbers in the back of his head. From the sound of it, the hissing from the canister has slowed. 15 seconds, optimistically, before they start to lose the lion's share of their cover. The rest of the bandits aren't stumbling out of it fast enough. In that case—]

Well, I'd be much obliged if you'd watch where you're putting the pointy end.

[And the "why" becomes apparent enough pretty soon. He ducks past Lucina while she (without hesitation) guts the guy blocking her way. Up and over the higher walls of the ambush site before dropping down into the fog and the fray to get up close and personal. Which is fine—he's flexible—but while the smoke's still thick enough to be useful, she'll have to count on size and shape to figure out who she's aiming at.]

[ Lucina knows there's something wrong when she realizes she could straighten, even for a brief moment. The smoke has definitely cleared up a lot since her first reckless set of attacks ( that... somehow worked, thanks for providing the back up Jason ), but no one seems to be crawling out of the smoke anymore. Which means more people to fight later once their cover is blown and —

Then there's a blur of clothes running right past her, into the smoke. Complete with a cryptic message that only gets cleared up as a couple more seconds pass. So much for calling her ballsy, Jason, this is putting a new level of trust into someone you've just met.

Luckily, Lucina's someone more than willing to measure up to that trust; she follows Jason right into the smoke. At least she's managed to keep track of which shape was Jason's, running in the different direction to ambush the bandits that way.

... And should a Jason-shaped figure returns to her field of vision, one can only hope that Lucina recognizes it. ]

[Hey, ballsy can go both ways. All a matter of perspective. There's trusting someone you just met, and there's trusting yourself to keep tabs on where she and her big unsubtle sword are so you can stay out of close-combat range. Don't worry, Lucina, it's definitely ninety-nine percent of the latter. Unlike him, she's a little harder to miss, swinging that thing around. It's probably better odds than staying put and letting them get outnumbered all over again.

Because fifteen seconds goes down pretty fast once they're in the thick of it—and so do the unsuspecting dirtbags they're getting the drop on. The air's starting to clear, and so's the competition. If Lucina keeps track of him in the fray, there's nothing much to worry about. If she doesn't, she'll have a fifty-fifty pick of the last two combatants. Around the same size, details just blurred enough at the edges to be hard to make out. One with a rifle in hand, the other with an oddly-shaped knife.]

[ Excuse you, swordsmanship is an artform. One that Lucina's perfected over the years, instead of learning other... important life skills, like how to pick good clothes, or something. Point is, she's had enough experience fighting an absurd amount of enemies, though sadly the Risen are much slower folk; luckily, it appears as though the smoke has slowed them down just enough ( the things that a lack of proper vision provides ), that she can easily keep up even against a multitude of guns.

It's also... chillingly easy, the fact that she's taking down these bandits without much of a thought. There should be more thought to this, but her focus is evenly split between occasionally identifying the correct blur as her comrade, and making sure that she doesn't get caught off guard here. As in: it's not exactly the most ideal time to be focusing on morals.

Especially when looking up from her latest victim provides her with two very Jason-shaped blurs in the smoke; even the color scheme too, almost. She wonders if she has enough time to let more of the smoke clear before she picks a target; but that's unlikely. But attacking now means that no matter how certain she is, there's a chance that she'll target her teammate instead of the bandit. Or she could do neither of these things, and simply wait for her comrade to rise on top ( she's definitely trusting someone she just met ); but the option doesn't quite sit right with her, not when she can help.

So she goes with her gut, the one that isn't who she believes to be the person she's been tracking this entire time. She's still not taking any chances though, and this definitely ends in the same way that she jumped into the fight — a run around the long way, with the blade of her sword pointed at the man's throat as she wraps the other arm around his body, voice low. ] Drop your weapon.

[ She's filled with relief when the face is 100% domino mask-free. ]

[Not much of a moral crisis to be had, is there? A bunch of angry, thieving, murdering dirtbags coming at you with a bunch of guns. Sure, you could let them go, or the two of them could try to round them up and lock them up in the town's (insofar ineffective) law enforcement systems—

To cool their heels until they can escape or get put on parole and point their guns at someone else. If they manage it at all in the first place.

That just sounds plain irresponsible, doesn't it?

He's a lot quieter after switching off from firearms to close quarters. Between the two of them, it's short work. And then there are three. Jason's attention is mostly on his opponent, but Lucina moves first. He braces when she does, backstepping into a ready stance in case he needs to dodge a swing in his direction. He doesn't.

The air finally starts to clear enough to see as the fight pulls to a close. Jason pulls straight again to close the distance between himself and the bandit Lucina is holding hostage. Gesturing with the peculiar waved blade of his knife—]

Well? You heard the lady.

[Even a dirtbag bandit can smell a losing situation when he sees one. But he doesn't immediately drop the gun.]

[ Well, if one puts it that way— there wasn't much thought put into morals and law and ethics in the first place. While Lucina isn't the type to justify murder using morals, this is probably a different scenario altogether.

Point is, she wasn't going to have a moral crisis about it any time soon, and the fact that they were bandits definitely helps with this.

But she has enough tact to not behead the guy right away; her eyebrows, knit together, are a lot more noticeable as the smoke clears away. Though with the lack of smoke, and the returning silence of the desert, it's definitely getting more and more difficult to execute the guy. Before, they were in a fight — this is... well, she knows what she's still doing is right, it just has a different taste to it now.

Lucina holds the blade closer, gently nudging him with her knee. ] Drop the weapon. [ She repeats, hoping that changes something. She really, really wants to resolve this peacefully, ideally by knocking the guy unconscious and tying him up in the middle of the desert, or something — not that that's much better than murder, but.

The bandit grumbles something unintelligible, before dropping the weapon his gun. But in one movement he shoves the sword away from his neck, slipping out underneath ( but not before giving Lucina a sold elbow to the stomach ). He knows it's a losing situation when he sees one, so he's gonna run for it while he still can.

Lucina — needs to take a moment to catch her breath, letting out a cough as she tries to even her breathing again. ]

[Attempting to detain the enemy results in...well, nothing particularly encouraging. Is he surprised by this turn of events? Not really, but they've got the time and space for him to indulge her for a second. The bandit drops his gun, but he drops Lucina in the process. As he tries to bolt from the scene, Jason grabs for a gun. One a sharp report later, the bandit drops dead into the dust with a bullet in his back.

While Lucina catches her breath, Jason reloads his pistol, sliding the clip in with a snap.]

So much for the diplomatic approach.

[The smoke and the dust gets to clearing, and there you are. Quiet, if bloody. Trash taken out. There are still the spoils to account for. Considering the modus operandi, it's not much of a leap to assume that tracking these bad boys back from the scene of the crime will lead them back to the old missing stagecoach and the stolen argecite capsules that the Sheriff is so concerned about. He doesn't have a lot of need for them, himself. But, you know, since he's in the neighborhood, it wouldn't hurt to get some coordinates.

How's it going over there, princess?]

[ The sound of the gunshot barely makes her flinch; it did, back in the ambush, when it had been everywhere all at once, but it's just another sound of a fight to her, now. Just a... very loud variant. Lucina needs to work on actually breathing anyhow, a couple of strangled gasps eventually evening out to deep inhales and exhales.

Apparently the situation resolved itself while she stared at the ground. She straightens herself out, slowly, standing at her full height as she spares a glance at what was the last bandit standing. ]

... Thank you. [ She looks at her masked partner properly for the first time, meeting his eyes. Briefly she wonders what the reason for his mask is, but ultimately? There's more important things to worry about.

Namely, the mess of bodies around them and what is likely going to be a stagecoach they'll find. The — er — more exciting part of today is definitely over; now for all the other parts that comes with being a "hero". ]

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the man who sold the world. (asher&jin.)

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you think you're so tough. (sigma.)

yes.

fight me nerd. (ง’̀-‘́)ง (hi I'm back for real now.)

red hood & the outlaws. (lucina.)

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wth jason's flying in that icon

basically unreasonable for a guy without superpowers tbh

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i actually have no idea how to wrap anything up