(no subject)
"Oh good, you're back," said the Sheriff Marion as Sativa reported back to his office. "You've done a lot o' good work so far, but this next one's gonna be a tough one."
"Just glad to help. What have you got for us?"
"There's a bandit, name o' Frog Morton, that's taken up lodgings over in the ruins of the Great Wanamingo Mine just west of town." He handed her a wanted poster. "I need you to go in and take him out - trust me, he ain't the type that's just gonna come quietly. But be careful, he's crafty and he's bound to have some of his gang with him. I'll give you a thousand dollar to get rid o' the varmint."
She looked at the sketch of the varmint, asking, "Why do they call him Frog Morton?"
"His name's Morton, and they call him Frog 'cause he croaks people."
She rolled her eyes, clutching her chest theatrically. "Ohhhh. Ouch. That's terrible."
Marion snorted, replying. "Hey, I didn't make that one up - he did. With puns that bad, I'd say that gives you just one more reason to kill 'im. You up for it?
She nodded, rolling up the posted. "On my way, Sheriff."
"That looks like the mine entrance - the big metal building," Vic whispered in case anyone could hear them from this distance. "How are we gonna do this, boss?"
"I'm open to suggestions. Cass?"
"We could always just go in the front," the experienced gunfighter suggested, "If you were wantin' a buckshot sandwich. Personally I'd sneak through those side buildings there and look for a rear entrance."
She nodded and raised her shotgun. "It's worth a shot. All right, everybody. Let's move in quietly."
It was a decent plan, apart from a couple of factors: a handle fun of Frog's men stationed in the adjoining ruins, and the squeal of a nearby Pig-Rat alerting them to approach of Sativa's posse. There was also the matter of one or two explosive booby-traps laid down in the path leading to their main hideout, but this worked out in their favor as it made it hard for the guards to run off for back-up.
Needless to say, it became very noisy in a short amount of time.
"Just glad to help. What have you got for us?"
"There's a bandit, name o' Frog Morton, that's taken up lodgings over in the ruins of the Great Wanamingo Mine just west of town." He handed her a wanted poster. "I need you to go in and take him out - trust me, he ain't the type that's just gonna come quietly. But be careful, he's crafty and he's bound to have some of his gang with him. I'll give you a thousand dollar to get rid o' the varmint."
She looked at the sketch of the varmint, asking, "Why do they call him Frog Morton?"
"His name's Morton, and they call him Frog 'cause he croaks people."
She rolled her eyes, clutching her chest theatrically. "Ohhhh. Ouch. That's terrible."
Marion snorted, replying. "Hey, I didn't make that one up - he did. With puns that bad, I'd say that gives you just one more reason to kill 'im. You up for it?
She nodded, rolling up the posted. "On my way, Sheriff."
"That looks like the mine entrance - the big metal building," Vic whispered in case anyone could hear them from this distance. "How are we gonna do this, boss?"
"I'm open to suggestions. Cass?"
"We could always just go in the front," the experienced gunfighter suggested, "If you were wantin' a buckshot sandwich. Personally I'd sneak through those side buildings there and look for a rear entrance."
She nodded and raised her shotgun. "It's worth a shot. All right, everybody. Let's move in quietly."
It was a decent plan, apart from a couple of factors: a handle fun of Frog's men stationed in the adjoining ruins, and the squeal of a nearby Pig-Rat alerting them to approach of Sativa's posse. There was also the matter of one or two explosive booby-traps laid down in the path leading to their main hideout, but this worked out in their favor as it made it hard for the guards to run off for back-up.
Needless to say, it became very noisy in a short amount of time.