GUN SALAD

Roulette looked back over her shoulder, frowning at the spinning rotor. Had she been bamboozled? Did Viper actually possess some level of guile, and had used the box as a decoy so he could hop into his RUMP and mow her down while she was distracted?

Before she could come to any solid conclusions, the vehicle’s sliding door was thrown wide open. A familiar figure leaned out to give a quick wave; a man with arctic white hair and a permanent scowl on his face.

“Morgan…!” she breathed. She looked back at the box, noting with no small measure of relief that it remained flush to the ground. If Viper really was crouched beneath it, he had yet to realize that his ride was in danger of being hijacked–that, or he was more dedicated to achieving victory in their little game than was probably reasonable.

When she looked back at Morgan, he was in the midst of tossing a thick cord of threaded black rope out the door. The lion’s share of it coiled up on the ground, but one end extended back through the open doorway as if it were tied off somewhere within the craft. He then made a spinning gesture with his index finger, pointed at the rope, gave a thumbs-up and retreated back inside.

The message was clear: he was taking off, and whatever was attached to that rope was coming with him.

“Boy, he’s really outfoxed me this time!” Roulette exclaimed loudly enough for her box-dwelling competitor to hear. “He’s better’n I thought! What a good hider–uh, I mean, ‘sleeper agent’! If he stays hidden much longer I might just have to give up!”

Then she dashed away, determined to make the best of the next few crucial seconds. Her first destination was the transport itself; she ran to its side and gathered up the rope as fast as she could–though, despite the urgency of the moment, she couldn’t resist raking her newly-returned partner over the coals a little.

“Kept me waitin’, huh!?” she hollered, more than loud enough for him to hear over the increasingly noisy thumping of the propeller blades. Before he could answer she took off toward her fallen compadre with an armful of rope and slid to her knees beside him. Years of rope-tying knowledge–a fringe benefit of spending her youth on the range–came to the fore as she tightened the sturdy cable around Marka’s thick waist. She hoped it would be enough. Her palms were sweaty, and the excitement of the moment wasn’t exactly–

Oh no. Her repeated paranoid glances in the direction of the box had finally panned out; she saw Viper toss the box aside and streak toward her with fire in his eyes. Whether he planned to kill her, grab onto the rope or both, Roulette wasn’t keen to learn his intentions for herself. She tightened the knot one final time and turned to wave frantically in Morgan’s direction, hoping against hope that they’d be airborne before the man had a chance to do any harm.

The RUMP began to rise, but not nearly quick enough. Viper was almost on top of them, now, forcing Roulette to act. She reached behind herself and took hold of Lady Luck, bringing it around to greet her fast-approaching enemy with a spritz of bullets… But, as usual, they didn’t have much impact–they didn’t slow him down a bit. Her eyes went wide. She started to panic. They were going to die. 

They were going to die, and it was all her fault.

Suddenly, Viper stopped in his tracks. He was less than a few feet away; she could see the fear in his eyes. Was something happening? Had Roulette’s power–the pride of every Gunslinger–finally begun to properly manifest? Was she going to be able to save everyone after all?

…No. Upon following Viper’s gaze, she found that Marka had recovered. He’d propped himself up and cocked Voidthrower, filling his opponent with the fear of total erasure.

“Let us go,” Marka growled, speaking through lips caked with dried blood, “Or, so help me, I will end you.”

Viper smirked. It seemed he could sense it as well as Roulette could–the lack of resolve behind the Blunderboss’s threat. Beretta’s death had broken something in the man. His killer’s instinct had dulled, and it was plain to see.

The RUMP drifted higher, and the rope grew taut. Marka was dragged away much more abruptly than Roulette expected; she only just managed to grasp his leg in time. Unfortunately, Viper’s reflexes proved no less impressive:

He lunged forward to grip her leg in turn.

“GET OFF ME, YOU PSYCHO!” she screeched, booting him in the face several times before they’d even left the ground. He held fast, though, stoically enduring the hail of kicks as they rose into the sky.

“No WAY,” he shouted back. “Not with your man up there inside my RUMP! You think I’d just let you escape, dangling from my RUMP like this?”

“STOP saying RUMP!”

“I’LL SAY RUMP AS MUCH AS I WANT!” he bellowed. “RUMP! RUMP! RUMP! It’s MY machine, and I’m EXTREMELY ANAL about calling it the right thing!”

“SHUT! UP!” she yelled. As he struggled to gain greater purchase on her body, his hands climbing to her thigh, Roulette found herself flooded with indignant rage. She snorted, pulled her free leg back, and bashed his face with the sole of her boot with all the power she could muster.

It proved to be enough. The blow stunned Viper so effectively that he lost his grip, causing him to tumble off the human chain and plummet toward the ground. They hadn’t risen terribly far, yet, but Roulette noted with satisfaction that he’d fallen flat on his back in the sand. He gasped up at the sky as if the wind had been knocked out of him, stymying any chance he might’ve had to open fire on the trio as they climbed higher and higher into the clear, blue sky.

There was no time to celebrate, though, given her predicament. She was still hanging from Marka’s leg–his good one, as luck would have it–and the importance of not letting go increased with each passing second. Thankfully, Marka seemed even less inclined to spend their flight at the end of a rope than she did.

“Get a hold of my neck!” he shouted. “I can pull us up!”

The girl eagerly obliged, taking care where she lay her hands as she pulled herself along the man’s mountain-like frame. Once she’d migrated to his neck, Marka rocked himself forward and took hold of the rope. She’d had opportunity enough to gauge his strength since they’d met, but she was nonetheless surprised when he began climbing hand-over-hand while she clung to his torso like a squirrel on a tree trunk. Roulette didn’t care to imagine how differently things might’ve gone if Viper had dislocated an arm instead of a leg.

Minutes later, Marka’s impressive upper body strength had successfully borne them to the RUMP’s open door. With a series of grunts and exotic curses he managed to drag them both into the safety of the vessel’s cargo area, and Roulette was only too happy to detach herself from his sweaty form, pull up the remainder of the rope and slide the door shut behind them once the deed was done. Then she slumped to the ground and panted along with him, still reeling from the sheer daringness of their escape.

“Thanks kindly, Marka,” she puffed. “You really came through back there.”

He turned his head to look at her; even that small gesture appeared to take herculean effort in the wake of his draining climb. “You too. It takes a strong knot to secure a man like me… And a strong kick to dislodge a persistent fool like Viper,” he replied. “Pass on my thanks to our rescuer, would you? I… I think I need a minute.”

The girl smiled. “Sure thing.” she said, and made for the cockpit. There she found Morgan, flicking knobs and pushing buttons with practiced alacrity. “Nice save, Sarada. Where’d you learn to fly one of these things?”

“Wish I knew,” he answered, eyes forward. “When I saw it, I… It just felt familiar. Like I’d flown one before in a past life. The real pilot seemed, uh, ‘busy’, so I thought I’d put that theory to the test.”

“Well, I’m mighty glad you did,” she said, stepping forward to settle into the copilot’s seat. “I figured you’d taken off for good, earlier–back to that hole-in-the-wall you love so much. How’d you find us, anyway?”

He chuckled, giving her the side eye. “D’you really have to ask? A giant and a girl in a pair of shit-kickers leave some distinctive tracks, let me tell you. Following your trail from the villa was no trouble at all,” he explained. “As for why I came at all… Well, I’m still tryin’ to square it myself. For now, let’s just say I’m a glutton for punishment.”

She nodded, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. “Could be that… Could be you’re sweet on me.”

“Watch it–it’s not too late for me to get Marka to toss you out of this thing.”

“Sure, sure,” she drawled, putting her feet up on a clear patch of control panel. “Whatever the reason… Thanks. You’re alright, Morgan.”

Roulette opened her left eye a sliver and, to her surprise, she found him grinning. 

Maybe, she thought. Just maybe…

…There might be hope for us yet.