<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e7/Roger1.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Roger Dean/The Cowboy<br/><strong>Age:</strong>32<br/><strong>Affiliation:</strong>Hero<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Iron General, Starman, Monica, Tyler, and the rest of the 8.<br/><br/><em>“A little bit of bacon, a little bit of beans, a little bit of you lovin’ up on me…<br/>… A little bit of how it’s supposed to be, a little bit of life!</em><br/><br/>Those were the words that rang in the store Roger – or Rancher Dean as his friends called him – found himself in, how many times had he been asked to visit the store? Counting this trip, it was almost his fourth visit to Paris… and the man frankly hated places where it rained and got cold at the same time. Of course, when the song stopped playing and therein played a news broadcast about the Starman’s imminent defeat, even in his moment of rebuke Roger couldn’t help but look at the screen, and for a moment – just a moment alone – felt a chill run through his spine.<br/><br/>The reason why Roger was even in Paris in the first place was due to Senors Smith, Wesson, Remington and their lost art. The man read about six shooters in an article in<em>Colts – Ride ‘Em and Shoot ‘Em!</em>a few months back which said how a several six shooters, when disassembled, can be assembled back again into weapons with no recoil, smooth bore semi-automatic, with all the whistles of a nineteenth century six shooter. The article mentioned how the likes of Wild Bill and John Wes carried such weapons, making them swiftest draws of the West without the weapons jamming or disintegrating even after having shot more than a hundred rounds. Roger was able to find all the parts, except for an 1875 Remington chamber that would complete the weapon for him... and this was available at a Wild West store in downtown Paris.<br/><br/><em>“Come later! Take one week to find!”</em>Said the man behind the counter.<br/><br/><strong>“No can do, hoss...”</strong>Said the man on the front, his eyes still fixed on the telly, chewing on sunflower seeds and a twelve gallon hat that spoke how he was the most displaced foreigner in Paris... and then the words flashed – they would change his life forever.<br/><br/>Taking one look at the man behind the counter he grabbed the six shooters, a rifle and a gun belt.<em>“This is madness! Polizei! Appelez la police!”</em>The man shouted and Roger ignored him, there were some things in life that were better left unaddressed in the moment, such as a grown man’s plea for help when somebody else clearly needed assistance.<br/><br/>The moment Roger had stepped out of the building he can see the carnage breaking loose not too far from him. Taking a deep breath, the man straightened his hat as he put the shooters in each holster... the rifle in his hand. He had stolen a few boxes of armour piercing rounds from the store and now began to run as he loaded the rifle... also custom made according to the specifics.<br/><br/>Of course the man came to a standstill as he saw all that took place in front of him; one of the girl dressed in black had sent a shockwave through the ground, or how it seemed to him and that had stopped the Iron General momentarily.<strong>“Hell yeah!”</strong>Roger grinned, but the smile died on his face when the Iron General started moving again. In that moment Roger had forgotten how he had run more than ten miles from the Wild West store to where this was taking place in less than a minute – the man didn’t find himself awakened, for all that took place around him was in slow motion.<br/><br/>Of course, the girl in black was not alone – she was now joined by another guy and he knew how to handle himself. This man also relied on guns, but seemed to be accompanied by mutts... and Roger grit his teeth when he saw one of the dogs tossed aside. The nice, black lad seemed to be exposed and in that moment – Roger felt it was his cue.<br/><br/>Once again flashing from one corner to another Roger felt people almost stop moving around him, as he was the one who was in movement... his foot touched one of the ramps and he jumped to another until he found himself at the Iron General’s flank. Whilst in air, gritting his teeth he began pouring rounds into the villain and wondered how many actually hit home. By the time he had landed on the ground his guns and belts were empty. His back was turned to the Iron General, and for the second time in the day, it seemed the man’s suit had powered off. Roger’s eyes on the lad who had shown moments before, he spoke;<strong>“you alright, son?”</strong><br/><br/>He smiled at the man’s response, and turned his eyes to the girl and offered his hand; of course before he can speak or she can respond to his reach, the Iron General began to function once more.<strong>“Nobody fucks with the Jesus, pal.”</strong>Roger said; he turned around and for a moment registered Starman’s frame – the man was alive from the way his chest rose and fell.<strong>“Can really use you guys’ help here... fire and hit him with stuff again!”</strong>Roger shouted at the guy and the girl, as he began to dodge the Iron General’s attacks, it was easy for him to slow time down and allow each punch, stab and thrust to pass away inches from him only to hit the villain back with his own fists – which of course, hurt like all hell.<br/><br/>Pulling his pistols out, Roger flashed on top of Iron General’s head and pistol whipped him several times with the six shooters, before disappearing again and hitting him on the side.<strong>“Yeehaws! Do you feel them grits click?!”</strong>He howled, before flashing away from the Iron General and found himself standing between the guy and the first girl.<strong>“Now... what?”</strong>He bit his lower lip... strength draining from his body as quickly as it had surfaced, the rain drops splattering over him.