Romero flung the cabin door wide open, stepping in like he expected a bright spotlight to illuminate his figure with majesty. Barely anybody noticed his entrance, only one person even bothered to lift their head and look at him, for the others were busy in their own distracting affairs. Dario snored like he was trying to raise the dead, if he gave a little more effort, he might even manage to do so. Ravendor's head was down as he continued to polish his pistol, humming a soft tune and remaining oblivious to Dario's snores. Kaitlyn glanced at the door where Romero stood, wondering who this new person was and swinging her legs off the bench. He coughed for extra attention. "I'm back." He announced.
"Were you able to find the facilities?" Ravendor asked, blowing into the funnel of his ARM and pushing the oily rag down it's shaft, cleaning the inside. Momentarily, he showed the weapon to Kaitlyn, the small blonde girl seated next to him, who made a little impressed noise, she had never gotten so close to a gun before. Seeing that Kaitlyn was interested, he carefully passed her the weapon, not afraid to give it to a child because she would be unable to synchronize with it, and also, it was unloaded. She took it reverently, holding it away from her body and turning it over with awe.
"…Yeah," Romero murmured uncertainly, tugging self-consciously at his bandanna, "Well, kinda." With luck, nobody would enter the cabin Romero had 'used' until they had all departed the train. He walked into the cabin, roughly shoving Dario aside, the bandit pushed like a sack of potatoes and leaning against the glass of the window, undignified. Romero put his feet up on the remainder of the long bench, blatantly disregarding the sign posted neatly on the wall that advised him not to.
"Hello. Are you my kid-napper too?" Kaitlyn asked, motioning with her freed hands. Romero had his good eye to the wall of the cabin, so when he turned around to see the girl, he tensed as Ravendor's ARM was pointed directly at him, losing his balance and falling off his perch. "Um, Mister? Are you okay?" She leant forward, worried.
Ravendor started to chuckle. "My, it appears that you have frightened him, little one." Kaitlyn looked adoringly perplexed, cocking her head to one side in confusion. Then she glanced down at the pistol and came to an understanding, giving the gun back to Ravendor so Romero wouldn't be scared anymore. "I take it you are interested in ARMs, Kaitlyn?" He inquired, unlatching the empty revolving clip of his weapon.
Eagerly, she nodded, immediately losing interest in the blonde bandit. "Yes! A lot! But, my Daddy won't let me near any guns, so I can only watch him practice sometimes." Kaitlyn became thoughtful. "Maybe someday I can have a real gun of my own!"
The leader of the kidnappers absently berated himself for growing so attached to this child so quickly, smiling warmly. "It is not very difficult to handle an ARM." He explained fondly, pulling a single black bullet from out of the white material of his jacket pocket and sliding it into one of the slots in the revolver, snapping it closed so that the ARM was set to fire once, and only once. "Here, I will show you." Cautiously, so that Kaitlyn could see that he meant no harm, he wrapped one arm around her back and placed both his hands over her much tinier ones, black leather gloves over pale skin. Now, both of them were holding the loaded ARM together, pointed at the floor.
"Can I really shoot it?" She wondered with incredulity, noting how much lighter the weapon was now that Ravendor helped to hold it up. It was only a revolver pistol, but to her, it was still heavy. Black and well-polished, with a slight silver lining around the butt and highlights, an engraved letter 'R' on the handle, the weapon appeared to be like it's owner, a mixture of darkness and light.
He continued with his lesson, giving her a quiet commentary. "This gun is called a Peacemaker, to be precise, a Peacemaker Frontier Mod 73. Now, aim it up… yes, like that. Good. Put your pointer finger over this small lever here, do not pull it just yet… Excellent." As he spoke, Ravendor tapped secretly into the synchronization between the ARM and himself, making it possible for it to be shot with Kaitlyn's underlying influence upon the weapon. With a thumb, he released the safety lock. All that was left was to pull the trigger. "When I say three," Ravendor whispered, "Pull the tab and see what will happen." Kaitlyn bit her lip, anxious to succeed. "One, two… three."
Dario landed on top of Romero, startled out of his nap by the loud noise of a pistol going off very close to him, flattening the younger bandit underneath him. Smoke rose from the end of the barrel, discharged of it's singular piece of ammo. A newly-made bullet hole smouldered in the wall, right in the head of the little man on the sign, telling passengers not to place their feet on the benches. Kaitlyn was in a minor state of shock for a few fleeting seconds, there had been a small recoil from the gun that was barely noticeable, but the impact of what she had just achieved hit her swiftly and viciously. Getting over it, she broke out into a huge grin of pride, bouncing in her seat. "I did it! I did it! I shot an ARM! Uncle Ravendor, look!"
Inwardly, Ravendor choked. Did she just call me what I thought she did? He asked himself, showing absolutely no reaction to the title on the outside. He took the gun from her hands and put it safely back in his holster, resting contentedly near his heart. The two minions squirmed as Romero threw the half-awake Dario off with a well-placed shoulder jab, embarrassed that they panicked at such a meagre scare.
"Am I dead yet?" Dario asked sleepily, his face on the ground, butt sticking up in the air comically. Romero kicked him in the side, soft enough not to really hurt, but hard enough to knock some sense into the bearded bandit.
"'Course not!" Romero scolded his older brother harshly, "It were just a wake-up call!" Dario put his hat back on, lying beside him on the floor and sniffed, yawning and sitting up. The floor was vibrating slightly from the perpetual motion of the carriage, a muffled creaking under the floor hinting of vast mechanical instruments, hidden from view.
"A fine shot." Ravendor said, patting Kaitlyn on the back and praising her. The girl beamed, becoming more comfortable in the presence of the drifter team. She didn't think they were that bad, though she had no knowledge of exactly what they planned to do with her. Ravendor and his team didn't do any of the nasty things kidnappers are reputed to have committed in all the books she had read. Was she misinformed?
However, Kaitlyn was not as childish as she outwardly acted. She still really wanted to go home, and in her mind, she tried to think up a method of escape. The door was shut and the window was out of the question, no, she had no choice but to stay with her Uncle Ravendor and nice Mister Dario, for now. She would be like Martha Jane Connery, the 'disaster girl' of the wastelands, and escape unscathed, just like her favourite fictional character.
The door unlocked from the other side all by itself, the assistant on the train pulling it open and glancing around the small and mildly cramped room. Tony frowned, "Did I just hear gunfire?" He asked, personally wondering why only the gunslingers decided to use the rail system and wishing his job were easier.
"No," Replied Ravendor, blatantly lying and being well aware that he was doing so. "Perhaps you hallucinate?" Kaitlyn started to giggle and the dark-haired man smiled openly, risking a quick look at the hole in the wall. Thankfully, it was not smoking anymore. As long as Tony did not inspect the wall, they would be blameless.
Tony sighed and sagged a bit, if they made any damages, it would come out of his pay check. "Yeah well, the arrival will be in a few minutes. Please gather all your belongings together and get ready to depart."
"Thank you for the information." Ravendor said graciously, patting his pockets to make sure all his items were still secure in his inventory. He wanted to get to a wide open space so he could light up another cigarette without harming Kaitlyn. They were all travelling rather light, so it only took a few brief seconds to get ready and wait outside in the corridor. As Ravendor moved out of the cramped room, he felt a small hand slipped into his and was frozen for a second, Kaitlyn was trailing close behind, determined not to be left alone.
"Uncle Ravendor, where are we going?" She asked, peering down the corridor from behind the folds of Ravendor's white jacket. The train was beginning to slowly come to rest at the station's platform, the group of bandits and hostage following their leader over to where the carriages were connected, steam hissing from all sides of the wheels. Kaitlyn almost misplaced her foot near the end of the platform, but was reinforced by Dario and kept safe. Romero loitered behind them, hands in his pockets.
Puh. Those two like playin' Daddy? Weirdos… Romero snorted to himself, incessantly pondering over what it was exactly that endeared competent people to small children. In Romero's view, they were just annoying pests.
Ravendor repeated to Kaitlyn what he had explained to his two minions, remembering to change the words he had used for the sake of better understanding. "We are going to my special place, little one, a secret hideout that only I know about." The train blew a hollow whistling noise from the engine room, enchanting Kaitlyn who hardly ever heard such a sound. To her, it was like the proclamation of an adventure.
In a single file they stepped off the train, the only passengers transported by the steaming snake of iron and machinery. Sand got in their eyes immediately, a harsh wind from the south propelling the granules across the station. Romero pulled his bandanna over his nose and mouth to block out the invasion, cursing the desert they lived in. Not even Ravendor could ignore such an aggravation, turning up the corner of his jacket's collar to blot out the relentless gusts. Kaitlyn let go and covered her face with her hands, exposed until Ravendor opened one side of his jacket around the girl, keeping her close to his side for protection. Dario grinned and bore the onslaught, minus the grinning part.
"We almost there?" Romero whined, hoping that the hideout was close and spluttering on the sand that got caught in his mouth. Dune Canyon was structured like a large basin, catching all the rough winds that blew across Filgaia. Physics declared that those winds would rarely cease their marathons across the land, not until erosion took it's toll, and it would be many lifetimes before that could happen.
The leader shook his head, irked by all the sand that was getting caught in his hair. "Not yet. We have another hike to finish first. Load your weapons and prepare for random encounters. There are still some troublesome nuisances left in the wastelands." Romero made a long verbal protest to the thought of another hike, the voice in his stomach telling him that some kind of meal was overdue.
Kaitlyn watched from her vantage point as the bandit team readied their ARMs, apart from Romero who made a check that his throwing stars were close at hand. The sense that this game of babysitting was becoming much more than what they had told her clamped down on her young mind, and she knew she had to do something for herself before it would be too late. Kaitlyn knew her position, what could a little girl do against an entire team of kidnappers?
I can't do anything… She thought, a suffocating feeling of homesickness pulling her spirit down, forcing her eyes to water for another reason than just the sand violating them. I don't have a big gun like Daddy, and I'm not a hero… What do I do? She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, wishing that someone would come and rescue her. But, nobody knew where she was, didn't they?
What… do I do? Will Daddy find me? Will he look?
…
He can't find me if he doesn't know where I am… How can… I change that…?
Kaitlyn looked through the recesses of her short memory, to a book her father had read to her one night, where Calamity Jane had been shanghaied by a team of murderous pirates, and so the heroine had left clues to her entourage that enabled them to come and save her. Leaving a trail of clues… It did seem like a good idea, if Kaitlyn could execute it properly, maybe she might have a chance. In order to go home to her parents, Kaitlyn would try anything.
She shoved her hands into the small pockets of her blue dress, fumbling for anything she could drop that might render a clue. Pocket lint, a one gella coin, a brown pebble, a handkerchief and a strip of paper all came to her fingertips, but none of them could suffice. Scratch that plan, it looked hopeless for her. Kaitlyn hiccuped and held her head sadly, she would never get to go home.
It was then that divine inspiration hit her young mind, Kaitlyn's eyes widened with sudden insight. Her blue ribbons, her father would never miss that, not in a million years. She halted her tears and blinked in astonished hope, finding her answer. Now, to plant the evidence, she had a fairly good idea on how to do it, it was a method most children used to get their own way. Phoney crocodile tears.
Ravendor pulled her forward again as the team began to walk out of the station. Kaitlyn had to do this right, she only had one convincing shot at this, and she didn't want to foul up. There was a short flight of steps past the ticket booth they had to cross, the obscure location of the station making repairs difficult and not really needed. They were old and a little warped, perfect for her use. Kaitlyn forced her eyes closed and made a little gasp of fear, willing another wave of tears to form behind her eyes. This was going to hurt.
Be brave… Be brave… I can do it!
When Ravendor led her down the steps of the station, Kaitlyn summoned up all the strength that she possessed in her small frame and wrenched her hand away from his, intentionally throwing herself ahead and falling down the steps, skinning her knee on one of the wooden planks. Her kneecap began to burn and she knew she was bleeding, but she ignored it for a second as the shock value this placed on Ravendor was priceless. It gave her enough time to rapidly untie one of her ribbons and push the fabric under her body, letting phase two of her plan run into action.
Sheer will and pain fuelled her into action. Kaitlyn sat up, grabbed at her knee, and began to bawl, tears running down her cheeks. Kaitlyn figured this was something she was pretty good at, acting, it had given her an unfair edge over the other children in Humphrey's Peak countless times. She felt a pair of strong hands pick her up and hold her, so the ribbon was now visible to the bandit team. To combat this, she began to flail and thrash, throwing a fearsome tantrum and making sure all attention was set squarely on herself.
Ravendor looked concerned. "Is she alright?" He asked.
Dario inspected her knee, the white stocking she wore was ripped and grazed. "It's just a hissy fit, She'll be right in a sec." He announced, "But uh, d'ya have a Band-Aid or somethin'?" He checked his own pockets and found one, though it was pretty old. Disregarding this, he managed to put it on her scrape while she cried, almost getting kicked in the process.
Kaitlyn calmed down, now that she had completed her mission successfully. She stood up and dusted her dress off, hardly expecting any first-aid treatment. The little girl pulled out her hanky and dried her tears, feeling Ravendor take her other hand once more. She used the cloth to hide the smile she could not keep to herself any longer. They were walking again and they didn't notice her lost ribbon. She had won a small victory, and it made her feel as proud as Calamity Jane herself.
"Will you be okay, Kaitlyn? I apologize, I was careless and let you fall, please forgive me." Ravendor said quietly to her, looking at the child. He had resolved to not let her get hurt until it was necessary, but his plans seemed to be emerging prematurely.
"It's alright, Uncle Ravendor," Kaitlyn reassured him, her voice was still wobbly from her crying, "I'll be okay now."
Pushed by the strong wind, the vibrant blue ribbon became airborne, where it was snared on a jutting piece of wood, flapping in the breeze, like a beacon of childlike hope.