The Gunslinger arched the right corner of his lip as he then uttered a, “Psh,” to the priest’s scolding. It was more like a lashing with the way he spoke. His words weren’t even good enough to be<em>High Speech</em>. The dust settled and Zieg squinted his eyes through the drops of sweat that threatened to drip from his brows into his eyes. The hunk of metal the truck had collided with was actually some strange contraption half-buried in the desert waste.<br/><br/>Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand again, he watched Apryl ignorantly amble over to the machine to pop a squat.<strong> I think that big old hunk of scrap metal is a good place to make a rest stop, seeing as we're here anyway</strong>.<br/><br/>“I suppose so,” The Gunslinger replied softly. He was still studying the clanker. The way the dust had collected on it: its scars, dents, scratches, and smudges. It looked like a device of war from the old ages. If there had been any place she should have taken a shit or piss—he didn’t know and didn’t care—it should have been behind the truck than some old, piece of scrap. It gave him an awkward feeling that he couldn’t put a finger on, but it made him feel cautious.<br/><br/>Suddenly, as soon as Apryl disappeared behind the machine, it bellowed into the silence of the desert and The Gunslinger’s hand acted on its own. His hand seemed to have had disappeared from its descent to his left holster, and then its ascent with his Wilson revolver. The Gunslinger returned a loud<em>kapow</em>with his gun that sent a normal round, sparking with a resonating<em>pew</em>off the rounded cranium of the machine. Zieg was silent as his eyes were locked in the focused state most Gunslinger’s fell into. It was a trance of accuracy as every sense heightened to heed the rapid orders of the brain. His eyes were wide and tense, and his jaw was clinched tightly together behind his lips.<br/><br/>The whines and whirrs of the machine trying to free itself was what brought The Gunslinger out of his fixed state. Zieg’s stern expression softened as his cheeks and jaw loosened up, and he blinked his eyes in surprise to see that the machine had not retaliated. He watched it trying to pull its massive arms from the dirt, and then softly blushed, feeling embarrassed to have been startled so much by the its blare.<br/><br/>“Well, what do you know? It’s stuck,” Zieg obviously noted. He smiled sheepishly as he returned his gun into its holster. Brushing his embarrassment aside, he approached the awkward bot, and then glanced down at its arms. “Aw…stuck?” he asked it as though it actually understood him. The Gunslinger then grinned deviously and grasped his chin in thought. “This thing is quite the antique. I’m sure it’ll be worth at least ten grand.” It would make up for the money Joanne had stolen back. “It looks like it still works too, whatever it used to do.” He kicked at its left arm twice before lowering his boot back to the golden turf. “Telling by the damage it’s taken over the years, this thing may have been used for war.” He then puckered his lips and frowned—a strange and childish expression—as his thoughts became more of a puzzle. “But what is this piece of shit doing here? It couldn’t be that the sands had worn away at the earth long enough to uncover it?” If that had been the truth, then that was amazing. It was like finding unburied treasure.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Last Chance</span></span><br/><br/>The Captain pocketed the cash though kept a slit eye on the cyborg as he thumped over to the bar. The mysterious woman cast her curious, brown eyes to the captain as she questioned, “He work for you?”<br/><br/>The Captain took up his warm mug of milk in his leather-clad hand, and answered, “Jus feedr.” He then brought it to his fuzzy maw to guzzle it down like a cold, glass of beer. The woman continued to watch The Captain. Her elbows had rested on the table and she had interlaced her fingers to provide a resting place for her chin. Though the felines around her could be just as ferocious as lions if provoked, she couldn’t help but think that their mannerisms were absolutely adorable. The way they drank milk and purred was cuter than the belching and farting of her last clients. Several times, she had to suppress the urge to scratch beneath the chin of the man next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his tail poke out from beneath his military coat to whip about like a black cane. It put a soft smile on her plump lips.<br/><br/>“So, how long do you plan to stay gentlemen? If this female gunslinger is after you, then wouldn’t staying here give her the time she needs to track you down?” the woman asked.<br/><br/>The Captain lowered his empty mug as his pink tongue licked at the milk moustache on his black muzzle. “I R not worrid ‘bout dat bish. No wan can fwind teh Wild Kat Hideout, an it ur job two taek care ov anywan dat dare fowo us. U R an assassin R U not?”<br/><br/>The woman smiled playfully as she finally gave into her urges and reached out to press her manicured nails beneath the chin of the Cat next to her. She scratched softly with her nails, watching as The Captain’s henchman irresistibly began purring loudly. His long, pointy ears folded back against his head and he raised his chin, stretching out his neck as his claws tore through the tips of his leather gloves to drag along the tabletop. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, sug’,” she cooed.<br/><br/>The Captain arched a feline-like brow at the henchman, and from the barely open slits in his eyes, he noticed the captain’s displeasure. It made the henchman’s tail stiffen in fright. It wasn’t like he could help it! Snagging the assassin’s wrist, he removed her hand from his chin and turned his head to flash his jagged rows of teeth at her. A threatening hiss left the Cat’s throat that had enough hot breath behind it to blow back her spiraled bangs.<br/><br/>“Sorry babe, I couldn’t resist,” the assassin apologized. “Give a girl a break.”<br/><br/>The henchman released her, and the captain slid back in his chair and stood. “I bleev we shud leef nao. Gud dai, Iris,” The Captain bade. His three associates then rose after him to follow him outside to the jeep.<br/><br/>Iris, as she was called, watched the men leave and returned to unenthusiastically resting her chin in her hands. She sighed softly, “What to do now?”