El Último Tarea

[Tuco]

Luis wished he had some more Tequila. Or a gallon of whiskey, or a few hundred beers. Really, he just wanted alcohol, which was a fairly pedestrian desire for him, except today, he really wanted it. Today, his usual dull, incessant hunger towards drinking was more of a raging desire to imbibe every drop of alcohol in all of Gran Luna. Maybe even Mexico.

Why this was, Luis was not sure. He did get these moods every now and then, but he felt like he was forgetting something. Something important. He didn't feel it had anything to do with the cantina he found himself in, but in the absence of the knowledge of wherever he was supposed to be, the cantina seemed replacement. The tequila was cheap and shitty, just the way he liked it.

He had just finished the single glass he was able to afford when the double doors swung open and Rocio walked in. Luis stared at her while she moved, and was so enraptured that the furious look on her face didn't even register with him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him, angrily. Even the way she scolded was beautiful to him. "Everyone else is waiting, and you're on your ass drinking!"

"Let 'em wait. They won't leave without me." Luis said, standing up from his stool and sliding towards her. She took a small step back.

"You think we won't?" Rocio asked. He didn't think they would, at least not so quickly, but he didn't want to push Rocio. He took a moment to analyze her face before he responded.

"Let's stay here. Jus' you an' me, an' to hell with the rest of 'em!" Luis said.

"Dios mio. You're really loco, you know that? The federales will be here soon. They'll kill you, or us, or whatever."

Luis looked down at the Derringers strapped to his chest. They would have something to say about that, surely, and Luis was feeling in the mood to kill some government pigs. However, there would be many, and he had only so many bullets.

"Okay, okay, Les' go. You should think about what I said, though. A girl like you could do a lot worse than a man like me, eh?" Luis said as he followed Rocio out into the harsh, unfettered sunlight. Even Luis' tempered Mexican skin burned under the intense light, and he fiddled with his sombrero for a few seconds, trying to get it on top of his head and in a comfortable position.

Luis' horse seemed no worse for wear when he came back to her. She was an old thing, with only a few years left supposing nobody stuck her on a quiet ranch and fed her to bursting. She was sturdy, though, and Luis preferred her slow and steady pace because she was a smooth ride. It helped with aiming, of course, but mostly, Luis liked that it didn't stress the organ between his legs.

At the edge of town, Luis came upon the rest of his banditos. They didn't follow him, but he still considered them his, because they needed him. He was one of, if not the, best shot among them, and when it came time for an hombre-a-hombre showdown, there was nobody in Gran Luna who could best him.

"Hurry, Loco." Juan shouted to Luis as he approached. Rocio had spurred her horse quickly and finished the last stretch more quickly than he had. "We need to keep moving. We're too close to Del Sangre for an ambush."

Luis cursed audibly and moved among the others, who were now continuing across the plain, a few hundred feet from the road. Behind them, Del Sangre was a rapidly diminishing speck on the horizon.

[Tuco]

Some 5 miles from the town, Juan called the group to stop. In a show of dissent, Luis continued for a few seconds as if he hadn't heard, before pulling back on his horse's reigns. Pelón glared intently at him for this, and while a lesser man may have cowered, Luis didn't care what he did. The man, Luis thought, was Juan's lapdog. He was complicit in ensuring Juan remained steadfastly as the group's self-appointed leader. If anyone had any complaints about Juan's plans, they were asked to direct them to Pelón, who would almost invariably reply with a harsh glare.

"Shouldn't we just move to the next town?" Frederico asked, wiping the sweat off of his nose. "The federales could catch up while we're trying to rob the coach."

Frederico was the only one who could ask questions and expect anything besides Pelón's angered gaze, as he was the youngest member. Juan wanted to nurture him into a productive member of their gang, and at times acted as if he were the boy's father. Luis found him to be irritating, and would have liked to tie the little brat up and leave him under a rock somewhere.

"Your caution is not without warrant, chico, but the federales are a day away at the least. We could use more ground between them, but we would be better served by the money we will be taking." Juan responded calmly, as if he had already practiced. He said most things in that same manner, as if he had gone over them a few times in his head beforehand.

"Punat madre, why are we stopped?" Luis shouted. He felt like he was being crushed under a giant boot, though he wasn't sure what that meant. It made him feel like shouting, though. Shouting and killing and drinking.

[Ghost]

Daga was restless. So was his horse, whom he had to constantly keep calming down.

"Luis is right. If our minds are made up then why do we wait here. The coach will only move further and the Federales only closer. We should be moving, unless Fredrico wants to ask anymore stupid questions."

So Pelón shifted his gaze to Daga. Daga, who had little fear of him. Little fear of most anyone within the group, warranted or no. His upbringing had left it's mark. There can be no fear if your leading a gang. Though Daga's role had shifted, he wanted it to shift back at some point. Some point soon, he hoped.

"Your impatience is frustrating."

"Es cierto eso. And so is your patience." Daga had hot blood and a power hungry streak. He'd killed a gang member to get into this gang in the first place (though nobody is aware of this), and he would gladly kill another to advance further. Especially Pelón. He had no love for Pelón, nor did Pelón have any love for him.

[Tuco]

Juan exhaled through his nose and looked around. He snapped his fingers at Pelón, who walked his horse to the grey-haired old Mexican and handed him an old, torn map. He unrolled the parchment and examined it for a few minutes before returning his gaze to the horizon again.

"The wagon must follow the road that loops around the cliff ahead. Fortunately, we have the luxury of going over the cliff." Juan said, and pointed towards the wall of the cliff to the east of the group. To Luis, it looked just like the rest of the wall, which was too steep to climb, but Juan seemed to think differently and rode towards it with most of the group in tow.

"If you all wanna' go climbing, then go ahead. But me, I'm gonna' go after the wagon, and if any 'o you has a brain, you can come wit' me, too." Luis said, and spurred his horse forward.

"Loco!" Juan called to Luis as he began to ride back to the road. When Luis continued past earshot, he began rubbing his chin. "This may work to our advantage" he said, and pointed at Daga. "You, follow him, and when you catch up to the stagecoach, wait for my signal."

Pelón's stony gaze fell on Daga again, urging him to do as Juan had said.

[Ghost]

Daga did as he was told, though for his own reasons. He liked Loco. At this particular instance he wasn't sure if it was because he actually did, or because this could be a situation that could work to his advantage. If one person exherts enough authority, it removes some power from the authority figure...

"Loco! Wait." After a few moments, Daga caught up. " Juan told me to join you. It'll work to our advantage apparently. I'm not sure what he means by that when he says it, but I cannot say that I trust it." Daga briefly turned and spat away from Loco.

"De todos modos. Vamos! We want to beat them there no?" Daga briefly whipped his reins and moved ahead of Loco.

(((Mostly I'm just serving as a space between your posts so you can advance the plot.)))

[Tuco]

(((It's cool, I meant to add more to that post so you would have something to do)))

Luis grinned as Daga rode past him and spurred his own horse to its fastest speed.

As the pair spurred their horses faster and faster around the edge of the canyon, Luis began to notice the dirt in the air.

"You see the dust, amigo?", Luis called to Daga over the din of the horses' running, "We're close. Vamanos!"

He spurred his horse faster, nearly to its breaking point. A few seconds later, he could see the tail end of the coach, though with the dirt flying up from under the wheels it was hardly distinguishable.

Luis drew one of his derringers just as a man opened the coach's rear door to fire back at him. The first shot hit the door itself, but the second hit the man in his forearm, where he was holding onto the coach itself. Consequently, his grip loosened, and he flopped out onto the road. Luis jerked his reins to the side to keep his horse from tripping over the man.

As Luis moved towards the open back door, the wagon finally came out from under the shadow of the cliff and into the bright sun. He could hear what sounded like far away gunshots, but it was just as likely the noise of the wagon as its wheels passed over the rocks strewn about the road.

"Cover me!" Luis shouted and, after putting his derringer back into its holster, grabbed hold of the wagon door. He got his right foot into the coach easily, but as he was lifting his weight from the horse, another guard came over the top of the wagon, his gun drawn.

[Ubermann]

Filthy didn't know exactly what was going on, nor exactly how he got here, but he was riding among a group of banditos attacking a stagecoach.

Not one to be left out, but unsure which side to take, he drew his Howdah in his left hand and cocked back the right hammer. Riding up alongside the coach, he discharged the right barrel into the driver, pulverizing the man and knocking his corpse off the seat.

He jammed the Howdah pistol back in its mounted holster and glanced behind him. His carbine would be more use here than would his shotgun, he decided, and pulled his scattergun from the scabbard on his back, switching it with the Spencer hanging from his saddle.

Jumping to the coach, he grabbed the reins and retook control of the horses and looped the reins around a small post on the footrest before turning around, drawing his Spencer.

He took careful aim at one of the banditos and fired. The bullet sailed past the bandit, and though Filthy couldn't be sure, he suspected he may have struck one of the others behind the one he was aiming for. He cycled the action and pulled the hammer back, preparing for a follow up shot.

[Ghost]

Daga fired his sawed off at the man on the top of the wagon attacking Loco. If the shot didn't kill him, it at least knocked him off the carriage. He may have been trampled for horses, for all Daga cared.

He slipped the shotgun into a holster on his horse. It was of no use empty. As he did this, a man he didn't recognize fired at him from the driver's seat. A man who had just killed the driver.

"¿Qué diablos! Who is this pendejo in the driver's seat?" Daga fired a shot at the man, and then focus on helping Loco.

[Tuco]

"Mierda!", Luis shouted, as the man on top of the wagon fell toward him. Panicking, Luis kicked a leg out of the wagon and pulled himself to the side just as the man tumbled through the air past him, and then slammed into the dirt road below him.

There were still bullets coming from the front of the wagon, but Luis was safe from them, and cautiously pulled himself into the empty wagon, with help from Daga. Inside, his trembling hands, steadied only slightly from the tequila he'd had, sifted greedily through all the boxes and bags jostling around on the dimly-lit shelves.

There was a lot of paper, and not the kind he was looking for. There was a bundle of US Dollars, and Luis stuffed it in his satchel greedily, chuckling a little. It would buy something nice, supposing he lived long enough to spend it. It wasn't why he was there, on the wagon though.

He found one of the pieces he was looking for on a high shelf near the front of the wagon- an old Conquistador's helmet, slightly rusted at the front and back tips but beyond that, in mint condition. Further back was an old Spanish sword, presumably from the same era as the helmet. Luis pushed his sombrero onto his beck and stuck the helmet on his head, then tied the sword's scabbard to his satchel, and began looking for the third piece.

In one of the larger shelves at the floor of the wagon was a wooden box, which Luis pulled out and yanked open. He lifted the shimmering breastplate out with a stupid grin on his face, like a child marveling at his newest toy. Unlike the sword or the helmet, this looked like it had been forged and polished only the day before. It looked better than it probably looked when the Spaniards had first arrived in Mexico, though Luis had no way to be sure of that.

Though he had an urge to put it on, it looked like a tight fit, and it would serve only to hinder him, so he returned it to its box and then, leaning out the back door with it, strapped the box to his horse's saddle while Daga continued his slow firefight with the driver of the wagon.

"Let the others deal with this punta.", Luis shouted as he climbed out the door and carefully onto his horse. Why the others hadn't already dealt with the driver wasn't something Luis had thought to ask himself, and so he seated himself comfortably in his saddle and slowed his horse to get out of the dust being kicked up by the coach.

[Ubermann]

Filthy was trying his best to do three things at once.

First, drive the stagecoach.
Second, not get shot by the bandits pursuing him.
Third, kill those fuckers for shooting at him.

Surprisingly enough, he was doing a passable job of all three. One bullet had struck him in the arm, but it was a grazing wound, and he was a warrior. He had already taken down three or four of the bandits chasing him, despite having absolutely no idea what was in this coach, or why the bandits were chasing it.

He squeezed the trigger on his Spencer carbine and sent another nameless bandito to the grave. He cycled the lever and pulled back the hammer and lined up what should have been the perfect shot on the man closest to the back of the wagon.

Click. Out of ammo.

"Shit." He exclaimed eccentrically, jamming the carbine into the scabbard on his back and yanking the reigns left to keep the horses on the road.

[Ghost]

Daga slowed to join Luis. He was sure the rest would sort itself out. Who was driving the carriage remained a mystery to him. Whoever it was must have started running with the banditos after Daga and Loco split from them. He stared quietly at the violence for objects they'd already taken. Idiots. All idiots. He looked at Loco.

"So this is what we came for? The armor of conquistadors?" He looked back briefly at the carriage, moving further away. "Do they even know we took it?"

(((shortsorryshortsorryshortsorryshortsorry)))

[Tuco]

Luis grinned at Daga's frustration and straightened the helmet. The others were nowhere to be seen, which was odd, but Luis didn't much care.

"Look at these things!", Luis said, gesturing towards the conquistadore's pieces. "To the right idiota, these things are probably worth a fortune. But I got something better, anyway."

He turned back to look at the wagon as it neared the horizon. There were probably some more valuables on board that whoever the hell had jumped on now owned, for the most part, but Luis had made away with more than his usual share, and he was grateful for it.

After a short wait, the other group appeared from the cliff, but something wasn't right about them. They were too few, for one thing- Juan was gone, as well as a few of the others. Pancho, a sticky-fingered man who was now clutching a ragged hole in his arm, was the first to speak.

"Goddamn federales! They killed Moco! And Chuy! Dios mio, the sons of bit-"

"Caiete.", Pelón said, slapping Paco roughly. "They found us on the cliff. Juan was captured. They likely took him back to Del Sangre."

This was good news to Luis. Today was shaping up to be an excellent day, Luis thought. Though he understood why Pelón felt differently, he didn't really care.

"And? I care more about the shit on my shoe than Juan. I'm not gonna' get myself killed going after an army of federales just because they've got Juan.", he said. Just to drive the point home, he then spit on the ground next to him.

Paco cautiously rode over to where Daga and Luis stood and, turning back to Pelón and the others, said, "I don't wanna' die niether, Pelón. Sorry."

Frederico pulled out a revolver and pointed it at the trio, who all did likewise unto him, save Paco who fumbled with his and dropped it on the ground.

"You're just going to leave him to die? You piece of shit!", he yelled, his lips and his hand trembling in anger. Idiota, Luis thought, shaking his head.

"You're just a little punta anyways.", Luis said, aiming his Paterson squarely at Frederico's head. If it came to bullets, he would enjoy putting an end to Frederico's questions. Pelón defused the situation, though by reaching over and taking Frederico's gun from his hand.

"Let them go. Anyone who wants to go, go.", he said. Rocio and another man walked across to Luis' group, leaving the others at just Pelón, Frederico, and two banditos whose names Luis couldn't remember. Luis couldn't help but grin at Rocio as she approached, though she didn't return his gesture.

"I will remember each of you.", Pelón said ominously, and lead his men back along the road towards Del Sangre.

There was a thick silence in the air for awhile, and it became more and more insurmountable by the second. Luis, deep in thought, disregarded it. He had finally achieved one of the longest-standing goals in his life, and now he felt empty, without purpose.The world was his oyster now, but... it didn't feel like it. It felt like the same dreadful place it had been before. He sighed and didn't attempt to hide his deflated feeling.

"I, uh... I think we should leave here. Maybe go North.", he said, unsure. By north he meant New Jerusalem, but he wasn't sure if the idea had any merit. He wouldn't be sure of anything until he found a bottle of tequila and maybe a loose woman to spend the night with.

[Ubermann]

Filthy fired off several shots behind him with his LeMat before turning around and noticing that the banditos were no longer following him.

He holstered his LeMat and gradually brought the horses to a stop. Fortunately, his steer was still following alongside the coach.

Crawling into the back, he checked through the contents of the coach. A few small bags of gold coins, dried rations, canteens of water, and several sheets of writing he didn't care to read and identify.

Not a bad haul. He got to shoot some people too. Carrying everything of value to his saddlebags, he mounted his steer (not like that, you filthy minded people) and abandoned the coach in the middle of the road, riding off towards the next town.