<strong>Name:</strong>Richard Dawson<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Approaching the Strikers<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Cookie, Mya<br/><br/>"Well, much as I'd enjoy not being the first target, that rifle of yours has a further reach and more ammo than what I'm packing." He told Cookie with a bit of a tense smile on his face. Getting shot was not something he enjoyed at all. "Besides, I think Mya is gonna be doing most of the talking. I'll be up front with her to unload my shotgun and run like hell if things go south and you can just pick off whoever looks most threatening."<br/><br/>Richard followed Cookie out of the cargo hold and began walking to the Strikers position. There wasn't a lot of cover on the big open landing pad except closer to the edges  where there were odd piles of stuff laying around. Some of it might stop a bullet, but he wasn't so sure. He had a look over the crowd to spot what sort of weapons, if any, these folks were packing.<br/><br/>Oddly enough, none of the Strikers were armed with any obvious guns but there were a few things- tools or other scrap- that could be used as a deadly weapon with some strength and anger behind the swing. Their barricade would slow down anybody who decided to attack them for a moment or two, which would give him and Mya time to get a bit further away. Still it would be tricky if things came to violence, and he hoped that Mya would be able to talk her way past the group.<br/><br/>"Well, Mya," he said as they approached the landing pad, "looks like it's your show. Remember I'll be right beside you, just in case things go wrong." Well, back a bit and a little to the left, but that was just semantics, he thought. "Cookie I'll let you pick a spot to cover us from. Don't look too threatening otherwise they might jump too soon, and try not to be so far away that we can't support each other." He told the gunman.<br/><br/>Richard continued to walk with Mya, falling a bit behind her as he adjusted his shotgun so that he would, in theory, be able to quickly swing it down and blast two rounds into the crowd if things got ugly and undid the strap that held his pistol in place. A quick little prayer was sent skywards, just in case anyone was listening as he muttered under his breath. "Dear Lord, please grant me the ability to do what needs to be done today and I ask that if it is my time then let the end come swiftly and without pain." He always seemed to get religious when some real trouble was brewing.<br/>