FFM: Here comes trouble

"Don't." Vera said dryly. "It will end badly, it always does."

Dwight chewed a bit, then spat the tobacco out onto the side of the road.

"This time it will be different. We almost had 'em last time. Bit of fine tuning and we'll be riding off into the sunset with the reward, just you wait and see."

He adjusted his hat, clicked his heels and set the horse clanking up the hill towards the frontier town. Little more than a hole in the road really, but they had a reward out, looking for someone with the skills to do a particular kind of job. Dwight was many things, but competent was not one of them, at least, not when he set his mind to it. After 35 years of miserable failures, he had accidentally doing things down to a fine art. He figured it was just a matter of aiming for the opposite of what you wanted. It hadn't worked so far, but Dwight was nothing if not an optimist.

Vera shook her head at his retreating back and set to following, her small feet bare and dusty from all the walking. The hem of her skirt was tattered, and there was a bandage around her right arm, keeping a skin flap in place. They hadn't had time to stop for repairs since the last incident, and experience had taught them that small town yokels found the sight of an 11 year old girl with bits hanging off her to be a tad off-putting, sometimes even downright disconcerting. There had been mobs involved on occasion, but mobs often got involved when one travelled with Dwight. Of course, real Mecha were rare these days, and most of the surviving kinds were big and bulky and used for strong-arming, transport and manual labour. The only exceptions were mass-produced items like Iron-steeds and portable toasters, easy to fix and duplicate. But something like Vera was just about unheard of, and it creeped the suspicious rural people out.

Before they even crested the hill a posse emerged, big hats trailing behind them on leather thongs as they galloped down the road towards Dwight and Vera, their mechanical horses wheezing in the dust, old, rusty things in need of oiling and general maintenance.

Dwight pulled up his Iron-steed and unloaded his long-bore. He took a shot at the lead rider, but the bullet hit a button on the mans coat, ricocheted back and got Dwight's Iron-steed directly in its mechanical brain. The steed folded in upon itself with a clatter, landing half on Dwight as they crashed to the ground. He cussed loudly through a mouthful of dirt and tossed his rifle towards Vera. It barely made half the distance between them. He threw like a girl, always had.

Vera tsked under her breath and adjusted her straw hat, flipping her pigtails back as she reached for the lever in the small of her back. Her jaw unhinged and retracted and within a matter of seconds her exoskeleton had unfolded, giving her an additional height of two feet and the countenance of a rabid metallic monster in a little girls summer dress…with pigtails.

Men tended to flee in terror. In fact, the only one who never had was Dwight. The man did have some redeeming qualities.

Suddenly undecided, the posse pulled their steeds to a halt and eyed her across the stretch of road, itchy fingers hovering above their triggers. Huh, not so chicken shit after all.

Sighing dramatically at the inconvenience, she extended her forearm cannons, and flashed a big, scary metal smile. The men reconsidered, turned 'round and high-tailed their way back to the town.

Dwight finally fought his way free of the broken horse and grabbed his gun, glowering in a menacing fashion at the retreating backs. "We sure showed them, huh?"

"Oh yes,' She replied, voice dry. 'You struck terror into the very core of their being. It's a miracle they escaped with their lives."

Dwight chuckled, moseyed over and patted her on an enhanced shoulder. "Maybe we should try a different town. I hear it's nice in the East this time of year and all."

Vera retracted her exoskeleton and adjusted her hat, once more in the guise of a little girl. She picked up the horse and slung it over her shoulder. The legs would drag a bit, but a good horse was hard to come by, she wouldn't leave it for the scavengers.

"Dwight, at this point, anywhere other than here will do."

After 18 years of running around with him, you think she would've got used to saving his sorry ass. But to be honest, she thought his luck was actually deteriorating with age.

Still, you got your friends where you could.