A lean ferret stood, idling against the doorpost of a saloon. His hatbrim lay level with his eyes and his paws were shoved in his pockets. A dark red stain was apparent on his left side; his wound long since staunched, but long from being ignored.
Chip'e maroon eyes scanned the streets of this above-average joint. It was called Pradera Dorada, and indeed, it was a literal golden meadow to any strays wandering the arid plains; at least, depending on how hard the sun's rays hit a body. Maybe it didn't look like a meadow persay. Maybe it looked like a gaggle of leprechauns prancing about in a vat of honey. Chip was no stranger to desert illusions, himself. He'd been amid the outlaw life for close to eleven years.
But that wasn't why he was waiting. The rest of his gang had set themselves up right nicely back in the saloon and, judging from the drunken guffawing that seemed to have become louder since his mates arrived, they were already telling of their daring exploit. The ferret smirked. He wouldn't pretend to be above a little ego-boost. After all, it was only just the fact that his ragtag gang had pulled one over the Grim Reaper himself! The hawks were probably having themselves a mighty fine feast back across the highway. Chip glanced in that direction, blinking wordlessly.
Then he spat on the dusty floorboards. Fame was all fine and dandy, but where was the money? That was, after all, the whole reason the Outland Boys had come out here - with no intent to pillage or murder, for once - so where was that damn- ?
Chip shot up straight as a board when a pair of slender whiptails approached. The lizards were smartly attired in matching blouses and scarves. The ferret's eyes narrowed slightly in satisfaction. He knew these two lizards well enough by now.
The whiptails stopped just outside of the saloon, side-by-side. Chip was willing to bet they breathed in unison. "Good evening, Mister Chip," the one on the left spoke with a sultry accent, perfectly-enunciated and snobby. Her twin echoed.
"We hope the job wasn't altogether unpleasant." She gestured with a dainty gloved hand towards the ferret's injured side. Chip snarled and folded his arms - mostly to hide the wound, but also mostly because he was pissed.
"Where's the money?"
The whiptail on the left - Chip couldn't tell them apart form the other, but that was fine since he wasn't exactly told their names, either - spoke haltingly. It made Chip's ears twitch. "We regretfully inform you that payment is still yet to be delivered."
"Then why you dandy whores even standin' in front o' me?" Chip took a step forward, very pleased to see that the duo took a step backwards in response. The whiptail on the right interjected in a hiss.
"Sir! We were not made fully aware of the monetary situation, but rest assured, Señor Alvarez -"
"Just get me my money!" Chip's reply was short of a bark. "I don't care how you dolls do it, but do it, an' do it fast!" He turned and slipped through the saloon doors, marking the end of the debate. The two whiptails stood for a long moment before finally turning and starting off at a matching pace.
"Señor Alvarez won't like this," the one on the left remarked, lowly.
In a large white house smack dab in the town's center, a lone black beaded lizard sat in a highback facing the street a floor below. The room was completely dark and the only source of light was from the full moon outside. The lizard was sitting quietly, his claws folded over his midsection. He was a large specimen, both in height and girth. He towered over the Gilas out in this desert. It was a safe presumption that this lizard didn't belong in this desert.
A knock sounded at the door at the far end of the room. The lizard turned, lazy brown eyes regarding the door. "iEntre!" He said in a gravelly accent.
The door opened and the two whiptails slipped in. "Señor Alvarez," the first one greeted. "There's a problem with the ferret."
"Problem, how?" Alvarez got up out of the highback with a grunt and a creak of the floorboards below. Dressed in a smart-looking suit and tie, coupled with a black panama, he eyed the two whiptails like he was eyeing a couple of insects. The whiptails fidgeted under his gaze.
"He... wants the money, Sir." The other whiptail explained. "And he doesn't wish to wait."
"iHijo de perra!" Alvarez muttered. "He must be... engaged. We are not ready," he glared coolly. "Keep him in town. Until I say when, ¿Entiendes?"
"Yes, Sir." The whiptails nodded in unison and then left the apartment. Alvarez was left alone. It was true that he didn't belong here - in this desert. He hated the heat, hated being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.
He hated snakes... Hated especially one snake with the Fire of Hell in his eyes and ice in his heart.