A Pub, Rusty Springs

2030 hours

The three of them had arrived in Rusty Springs somewhat later then planned, but it was to be expected given all the attacks. After arriving and "parking" their Zoids, the three of them had spent some time dealing with various dealers and authorities. The Snipe master, being new and mostly complete had fetched a fair price; the rest of the Zoids were worth little more then scrap. The Gustav had also gone over well, fetching a fair price. Vic commented that it would have got more if not for the shelling it'd taken.

Their prisoners had also proven to be a profitable lot. All (Save for the butler) were known bandits with bounties posted on their heads. Sandra was strangely unsurprised to find that in the case of everyone save for Phillipe, the amount was rather low.

Having booked rooms for the night, the three had decided to engage in a serious discussion of the day's events, or at least as seriously as any discussion involving Vic could get. They had decided that the best way to do this was to drink a lot. They'd found a decent pub, not the best one any of them had ever seen, but at the same time far better then the last one they'd been in.

"Look, three groups of thugs all attacking us is more than a coincidence." Sandra said. "One attacking us, well, you can almost understand that. Two... maybe. If we were having a bad day or there was something that was making bandit raids more common then normal, like a shortage of water or a one-upmanship contest." She took a slug of beer, then continued. "Three... I dunno. Three too much for me to pass off as a coincidence."

"Maybe they're just stupid." Rick replied, casually. Rick had been dismissing the attacks they'd suffered during the day as trivial for most of the night, even though he was the one who'd come closest to getting himself or his Zoid badly wounded.

"It's beyond stupid." Sandra came back. "They attack three upper-end combat Zoids that clearly weren't carrying any cargo or anything valuable to steal. All they could have gotten out of us is salvage, which wouldn't be worth the risk of fighting the three of us."

"Okay, so they're incredibly stupid." Rick replied. "They all pick fights with us as some way to prove how tough they are. Or maybe they think they're tougher then they actually are." He sipped his beer.

"Maybe its natures way of weeding out undesirable elements from the Gene pool." Vic said. "The stupid eliminate themselves so the strong survive." She stared at her beer. "They're just Darwinian Road kill."

Silence. Vic tended to do that to a conversation.

"Right." Sandra eventually said. "My turn on the drinks. Another round of the same?" Rick nodded vigorously.

-----

Outside, a man watched the bar. He was a massive man, tall and heavily muscled. His face had small, dark eyes, a goatee beard and was topped with short, stubbly hair. He wore a blood-red shirt, black leather pants and a black longcoat. As he glared into the bar, he casually fingered the side of his coat, gripping the handle of the gun concealed inside it.

Checking his watch, he fingered the gun again before heading in.

-----

Sandra was waiting for the bartender, when she felt a massive hand on her shoulder. Without turning, she simply said "Remove it before I have to remove it, you big tool." The hand tightened its grip, and she felt something pressing into her back. Something that was probably the barrel of a gun.

"I'd rather not do this here." The man behind her said in a guttural voice. "I want no witnesses. You move and I'll kill everyone here."

"Right." Sandra said, trying not to show any fear. Guns to her back were not a situation she was happy with. Her own pistol was with the gun check at the door. "I suppose this isn't your usual way of picking up, right?"

He didn't even pretend to be amused. "Where are your two companions?"

Sandra gestured with her head. "They're at a table more or less directly behind you, half way across the bar."

There was a silence. "Shabby looking guy with brown hair?" he asked. "Drawing?"

Sandra thought about this. Yeah, that was Rick, but where was... oh no... "Yeah, that's them."

"Where's the other one?" he snarled.

"I dunno, gone to use the Lithgow Bank or something." She said, trying to be as obtuse as possible.

"Huh?" He said.

Before Sandra could reply, she heard another voice behind him. "'scuse me sir?" it said. Female. Young. Odd accent. Oh no.

"What?" He asked.

"Free beer?" came the reply. Before the man could say anything else, there was a cracking sound. Sandra felt the hand leave her shoulder, as well as hearing the clatter of the gun hitting the floor.

Spinning around, Sandra saw her assailant. He was a massive man; she figured that he would have been over two meters tall standing upright. At the moment, he was clutching his face, which was drenched in blood and what Sandra guessed was beer. Vic stood behind him, clutching the glass handle of a beer mug in one hand.

She reached for the gun, only to have his foot come down on it. She looked up at him to see his face, a bloody mess of cuts with small eyes and a sharp goatee beard. He snarled, then roared in pain. Vic had stabbed him in the side with the glass handle. He swung his arm backwards, hitting her and knocking her back onto the floor.

Grabbing his leg, Sandra tried to wrench him off his feet and bear him to the ground. The result was less successful then she'd hoped, the man barely moving before caching himself on the bar and propping himself up.. Tool, she thought. He's massive! The man retaliated by kicking at her, sending her flying back onto the ground next to Vic.

"Any other ideas?" She asked.

"Sorry. Sniper, not a brawler." Vic replied.

"Right." Sandra said. "Lets just try whatever comes to mind."

The man stood up again, and wiped his bloodied face on the back of his sleeve. "You've done it now. I'll have to kill everyone here. No witnesses, remember." He slowly advanced, and then suddenly stopped as a wooden chair broke over his head. Rick was standing behind him, the broken back of a chair in his hand.

"Bet you weren't expecting that!" Rick shouted. The man turned around to face him. "Errr...."

"New plan." Sandra said. "We run."

"Very good plan. I like." Vic replied.

Sandra grabbed Rick, pulling him out of the way of a punch aimed squarely at his head. "I'm with that!" He shouted as they crashed through the bar door.

"Our guns." Vic said.

"Forget them!" Sandra replied. "We're in a hurry!"

The three of them crashed into a pile outside, startling a lone Roadskipper tied up outside the bar. "What now?" Rick asked. He was still clutching the back of the chair.

Vic looked back in to see the man fighting his way through the bar. "We run. Split up. Less of a target that way."

"Right." Sandra said. "I call dibs on the ostrich."

Before either of them could object, she leapt onto the back of the Roadskipper. It shouted out "WARK" as she grabbed the controls. "I'll see you guys later. Try to work on a plan by then!" The Roadskipper started with a jerk, almost throwing her off, before speeding off down the road.

-----

The man emerged from the bar, bloodied, injured and angry. Looking around, he could see the brown-haired man running in the distance. Without pausing to take aim, he emptied the magazine from the pistol in his general direction. not a single shot hit. "DAMN YOU!" he shouted at nothing in particular.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. A large bald man, the doorman from the bar was standing behind him. "Put the gun down. mate." He said.

"I said, no witnesses!" He shouted, then fired at the man. His pistol clicked. Empty. He slugged the man, and ran. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of sirens.

-----

"Stop, you stupid machine!" Sandra shouted as she clung onto the back of the running Roadskipper for dear life. She'd never ridden on one of these small Zoids before, and she never intended to do it again. "Stop stop stop stop stop!" This apparently had the desired result as the Roadskipper stopped dead, slamming Sandra forwards into the seat. Slowly, and painfully, she slid off the Roadskipper's back, landing painfully on the ground.

"I never want to do that again." she muttered as she looked up at it.

"Wark?"

"Oh, shut up." She picked herself up, rubbing her very sore backside while thinking. The would-be assassin in the bar... she recognised him from somewhere. But where? She wracked her brain. Damn it. Something came to her... Oh no. Couldn't be, she thought. Unless...

Desperate for an answer, she pulled out her mobile phone. Why she hung onto it was beyond her. The only people she ever called with it rarely had anything to stay. Besides, coverage in the wastelands was so spotty that it was rarely worth calling anyone.

Well, time to burn her remaining credit. Sandra punched in a long series of numbers. If her hunch was right, they were in a whole lot more trouble then they thought.

-----

After fifteen minutes of careful evasion, Vic returned to the hotel that they'd each booked rooms in. Slipping in through a back window (She figured that the check-in could easily be bribed or bullied into informing on her), she snuck up to her room. Checking to see that the lock hadn't been interfered with or opened, she entered the room. A quick scan showed that nothing in the room seemed to be out of place or moved. Good.

She knelt down next to the bed and reached under it. After a few seconds of fossicking around, she found what she was after and pulled it out. It was a large, unmarked, black, high-impact case. Just what this situation called for. Grinning to herself in one of her big, broad, toothy, insane grins, she picked up the case and left.

-----

Rick sat in the cockpit of his Command Wolf, bundled under the moth-eaten survival blanket he kept in the cockpit for emergencies, trying not to be terrified. He'd gotten in a lot of fights before, sure. And he'd had many battles in his Zoid. But those were a kind of "exciting" danger, where he was hidden behind a Zoid's protective armour. But this was the first time that he'd felt directly threatened. I mean, that guy had a gun. And he'd tried to kill Sandra and Vic...

He couldn't handle it. Plain and simple. Sandra could. She'd seen all sorts of combat before she'd become a Wandering Desert Loonie. She used to be in the army or the police or something. She was trained for this kind of stuff. And Vic, well... she was insane, end of story. But she was insane in a professional kind of way. He knew she'd seen some sort of combat before he met her, and he had no doubt that she used to be some sort of soldier.

But he was just a comic book writer-artist. What was he doing out here in the middle of the desert being shot at? He'd come out here for inspiration, not for getting pumped full of lead in a run-down bar. This was nuts! Best just to hide in his cockpit and wait till morning. Yeah. He stuck his head under his blanket.

A minute later, he pulled it off. Damn it! What he was doing was the wussy, cowardly thing to do. He shouldn't be staying here while Vic and Sandra were out there, possibly facing mortal danger. No, it was the wrong thing to do. Fishing around behind the Command Wolf's command couch, he found the spare pistol that he kept in the survival kit.

Rick opened the cockpit and climbed down. As his feet hit the ground, he heard the Command Wolf growl. "No boy," he said. "You stay for the moment. This is something I've got to do myself." He looked at the blue dog-like Zoid. "Besides, I just don't think they'd appreciate you stomping around the town.

-----

Sandra closed the phone. Tool. This sounded like trouble. A whole frelling world of motherloving trouble. She leant against the wall, her eye closed. Great. Frelling marvelous. Tool.

Right, she thought. Only one thing to do about a situation like this. Leaving the Roadskipper behind (It was kind of distinctive, besides, its owner might have some things to say to her about it), she began to make her way through the back alleys and side passages of the town. Nothing, thankfully.

After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the back of the hotel they were staying at. Oddly enough, one of the back windows was opened and appeared to have been forced. Worrying. She cautiously slipped in. Making her way though the hotel, she reached her room. The door was still locked and showed no signs of having been forced. That was a good start. She cautiously opened it.

The room was empty, and just as she'd left it. Excellent. She checked her case. Inside it, she'd concealed a pair of pistols for an emergency. By her figuring, if this wasn't an emergency that called for them, nothing was. Both of them were there and appeared to be as she'd left them.

Taking out the two guns, she concealed them both within her longcoat. With any luck, she thought, she wouldn't have to use them. Then again, with her luck, they'd probably get a lot of use tonight.

-----

Phillipe was not impressed with the holding cells in the sheriff's office. The room was small, poorly lit, badly ventilated and filthy. The walls were covered in graffiti, the sink was backed up and the small, single bunk was lacking a mattress or blanket and was incredibly hard to lie on. And the toilet was completely unmentionable.

To make things even more hellish, he was forced to share this cell with the eight low-lives that he had previously been bound to the back of his Gustav with. Save for Samuel, the short scrawny one who hung around with a pair of obvious genetic defectives who were supposedly his brothers, none of them had anything interesting or even moderately intelligent to say.

As if it wasn't bad enough already, he was certain that he would be the recipient of swift and harsh frontier justice by next morning. Nobody had listened to him when he had politely, but sternly, requested to call his attorney. In fact, several of the so-called law officers had laughed at him. The indignity of the situation was unbearable.

He stared out the small, barred window. While it only offered a view of the backlots of the sheriff's office and the barn that passed for the local militia's Zoid hanger, it was far more interesting then fighting with a pair of ogres for occupancy of the bed. Suddenly, a face blocked his view. A large, angry face, featuring small eyes, a pointy goatee beard and a mass of recent-looking cuts.

"Quiet." The man said. "I've set a small bomb at the base of the wall. It'll go of in about half an hour. When you get out, you'll find that the hanger for the militia's Zoids has been left unlocked." He looked at the hanger and then back to Phillipe. "I suggest you all stay away from the wall for the moment."

"Am I to assume that this is a 'breakout' then?" He asked.

"You got it." The man replied.

"And if we should encounter any of the local constabulary?"

"Kill them all." He snarled. "We want no witnesses."

-----

A lone figure leapt from rooftop to rooftop, travelling the town by the most unusual method possible. It descended to street level only to cross roads, and only then when it couldn't find another way around. It was a small, female figure, carrying a large case on its back all the time scanning the streets ahead as if looking for something.

Stopping on one corner, looked around the town to get is bearings. The sheriff's office was there, the pub was there, the Zoid hanger was there... Now, it had to decide where its prey had gotten to.

The figure grinned with anticipation. The hunt was on.

-----

Having retrieved her weapons from the hotel, Sandra had realised that she was at a loss as to what to do next. Presumably, the big hairy tool was still out there looking for her, Rick and Vic. The problem was where he was. Or, more to the point, where the frelling hell he had gotten to. While she had been busy running, he could have gotten anywhere.

She slumped against a wall to consider his MO. He'd tried to attack them in the bar first. He'd said something about wanting no witnesses, which matched the way he usually worked. Presumably then he'd have to head back there at some point and finish the job he started.

Right. Only one thing to do. She had to go back there and try to head him off. She started, then suddenly stopped. Of course, she realized, that he might have thought of that too. He might have wanted her to go back there to lead her into a well-planned ambush. Tool. This was bloody marvelous.

She'd walked into ambushes before, she thought as she rubbed the underside of her scars with the back of her gloved hand. It was a habit she had to give up trying sooner or later.

She dashed from shadow to shadow, trying to reach the pub. She figured that if he was anywhere, he'd be at the back of the place. Great. A back door bandit. Just what she needed. If Vic was here now, she'd probably snigger in her insane little way about that.

Cautiously, she slid around to the back of the pub, remaining pressed against the walls, one pistol out at all times. Reaching the back, she cautiously peered around into the darkness. The fact that it was night and he had been wearing dark clothes had not escaped her. Bloody marvelous. Just what she needed.

There. Something was moving in the distance. Something large, wearing a black coat. It had to be him. She slowly raised the pistol, trying to get a good shot at his head. Suddenly, he turned around.

Sandra panicked and squeezed the trigger. The man twisted backwards, staggering a bit. He must have fired at the same time, she realized, as a chunk of wall next to her shattered, spraying her with concrete chunks. She ducked back around the corner.

Tool, she thought. Did I get him? She saw him go down, but she wasn't sure if he was dead, wounded or what... Only one way to check. She cautiously advanced around the corner, only to be sprayed with more concrete as another round dug into the wall. Great. Time for plan B.

-----

The lone figure heard a shot, and stopped in its tracks. It was nearby, she realised. In fact, it had come from the direction she was heading in. So her hunch about the pub was correct.

Dropping to one knee, she dropped the case onto the roof an opened it. Inside was a collection of metal components. She quickly and quietly removed them from the case and assembled them, combining them to form a rather large and imposing looking rifle with a scope on the top. It appeared to be bigger then she was.

Abandoning the case for the moment, she slung the rifle over her shoulder, then continued on her way.

-----

Sandra was collecting her thoughts when she heard the explosion in the distance. "What the?" She asked, then was bought back to reality by another shot ripping chunks out of the wall.

"I told you I wanted no witnesses!" The man shouted. "Looks like I'm going to have to go out of my way to do it."

Sandra paused for breath. Okay, time to do something stupid. "Yeah, that's you all over, Geoff Garren." She said, emphasizing his name and hoping she had it right. "You get all worked up about this whole 'no witnesses' thing and then go out of your way to kill everyone except your target. And you seem to only go after your targets when there are as many people around as possible."

"What are you saying?" He angrily shouted.

Good, its working, she thought. Now to really get him riled. "On three different occasions you've gone after one man in a public place where there were numerous witnesses. In each case, you've killed or wounded several people around your target while he gets away. You're wanted on six counts of murder, eight counts of attempted murder and at least four counts of conspiracy to murder. Each time, your description was given by numerous witnesses, especially your cry of 'no witnesses!'"

"That's all lies!" He shouted.

Sandra heard the anger in his voice. Now to go with it. "You're also wanted for participating in the underground Chronos Zoid fighting circuit. You piloted a Zoidzilla named 'Elroy' and reached the championship round before being beaten by a 16-year-old kid in a Trinity Liger. After the match, you tried, unsuccessfully, to kill him in front of the entire audience, shouting 'no witnesses' as you went."

"Shut up!" She shouted. "I wanted no witnesses!"

"You use a 4.5mm customised electromag pistol that, due to either a lack of numeracy skills or just plain stupidity you call a '45mm silencer.'" She continued. "It's a pretty distinctive weapon that only a few people outside of espionage and special forces units use, which means its easier to trace back to you." She paused. If he wasn't about to go kong-crap, then this final bit would. "And four years ago, you were shot in the right buttock by an Raycliffian police officer who foiled yet another ridiculously ill-conceived hit attempt."

She waited for the response. Nothing. Right. Time to drop the big one. "I should know, I was the officer who shot you."

"GAAAAAH!" He shouted. Numerous shots peppered the wall. Sandra mentally counted each one off. After eight, she leapt round the corner, gun at the ready.

The figure leapt onto the roof of a building behind the bar. She could hear the shouting match going on below. Good. People who shout during a gunfight rarely pay attention to what's going on around them.

She dropped to lie flat on the roof, the gun out in front of her. Peering through the low-light magnifier scope, she could make out the large man from before. He was behind a garbage bin, making himself a difficult shot while shouting at someone. It was Sandra, she realised. Only Sandra would say stuff like that in the middle of a gunfight.

She peered into the scope, keeping her ears open to the one-sided debate. All the pathetically failed ht attempts. All the witnesses. The kid in the Trinity Liger. "I'm insulted." She muttered. "They send an idiot out after me. I deserve a better class of hitman." She licked her lips. "Not this sort of Darwinian Roadkill."

Then everything happened at once.

The man fired eight rounds. Sandra stepped out of hiding and shouted at him. There was a second explosion. This one was nearby.

She looked up form her position to see a Trooperzoid standing at the end of the street, firing at anything it could see. A scan across the roofline showed a second one heading down another street, presumably firing at something else. Ooooh dear. This looked like trouble.

-----

Sandra heard the explosion. "What the?" She turned around, then looked back at Geoff. "What's going on, you big tool?"

"I took the liberty of getting a few friends out to help me. By the time they're done, there will be no witnesses!" He laughed insanely.

The small communicator Sandra kept in her coat beeped. She ducked around the corner again, surprised that she'd bought it with her. She'd honestly forgotten about it. She pulled it out of the coat and put it to her ear. "Who is it?"

"Vic." Came the reply. "I'm above you."

"What's happening?" Sandra asked.

"Trooperzoids out on the town, smashing stuff up." Vic replied. "Go get your Zoid. I'll cover you."

"What?"

"I have a big gun." Vic replied. "Go now."

Sandra didn't need any further instruction then that. Leaving Geoff for the moment, she sprinted out of the alley... and collided with Rick. The pair of them hit the ground in a pile.

"What the frelling hell do you think you're doing, you big tool?!" she shouted.

"I was going to stop that hitman" Rick replied. "Then all of a sudden I nearly got blown up by a Godos stomping the place."

"Yeah, I saw it." Sandra replied. One of them was moving around at the end of the street. Fortunately, it had its back to them. "There's several others on the loose, smashing the place up. Oh, and they're Trooperzoids."

Rick shrugged. "Same diff. But what are we going to do about them?"

"Get to our Zoids." Sandra replied. "We take 'em out, save the town and worry about our hitman later."

"Right." Rick said. "But where's Vic?"

Sandra looked back at the roof. "She's going to be covering us to make sure we can get there."

-----

Vic stared into the scope at the Trooperzoid. It was just him and her now, she thought. Most people would feel stupid taking on a Zoid with just a rifle. Of course, Vic wasn't most people, and this was no ordinary rifle.

It was a 23mm Halconnen CEF anti-Zoid rifle, in essence a miniaturised railgun. While it wasn't capable of taking out anything but the lightest Zoids, it still was powerful enough to give them something to think about. Especially a lighter Zoid like the Trooperzoid she was staring at.

She focused on the Trooperzoid. Sandra would be back with her Liger soon, she figured. Rick... well... Rick could have been anywhere. For now, however, it was just her on her own with no armour and a rifle versus several Zoids.

"I've got you poor bastards right where I want you."

-----