Gravemakers & Gunslingers

City of Roram; Dusk Time.

Ryder walked into Roram. It wasn't his favorite place in Pandorum, that's for sure: the place was crawling with thieves and other forms of low-life scum. It wasn't a particularly good place to live. The city was bustling; people on the streets, going here and there about their day. Ryder walked past the many people crowding the city streets. He'd been walking for three days without supplies just to get here. Now that he was here, he had a very strong thirst.
He looked around the place, not seeing anywhere particularly interesting. Then, he spotted it: Gomez's Saloon. He strode toward the building in a hurry. He walked through the doors. The saloon was abound with drunks and other scum. He spotted an open seat at the bar and took it. The bartender walked over. "Death Whiskey, hold the rocks", Ryder said before the man could even open his mouth. The bartender reached under the counter, produced a glass and a bottle of Death Whiskey, a drink most people couldn't ingest without puking their own hearts out (literally), and poured the drink.
Ryder took the glass and killed it in a second. "More", he said, holding his glass out. The bartender refilled the drink, and Ryder gulped it down too. "More". Again, another refill, and another half-second drink. At that point, Ryder just wanted the entire bottle. So he took it, paying for it, of course. He spun in his chair, drink in hand, looking out at everyone in the saloon. He could feel the cold stares coming from the corner.
He heard murmurs of "The Ranger in Roram" and "What's he doing here?" Ryder was a pretty poular guy. He was the most revered bounty hunter in Pandorum, and he was wanted dead by all the bandits of the world. He sipped his bottle, and grinned.

Devon, sitting silently at the bar with the stool swiveled out so she could observe the entire saloon, stared blankly at the wall. She was mildly amused. The wall, while not alive, still managed to have a significant purpose. The rest of the people in the saloon --the thieves, the worker drones, the low-lives who didn't even try to work and spent the money they got by begging on booze-- couldn't claim the same thing about themselves. She wondered how many of them actually tried to get anything done. At least a few of them had been there all day.

She hadn't been there for more than an hour herself. Drinking wasn't spectacular enough to waste much time on it. With her arms propped back up on the bar, she dangled a beer bottle from her fingertips, then tossed it up to catch it in a proper grip and take a swig. The other hand held a dusty and slightly beaten novel, which she finally returned her gaze to. This was her method of relaxing. A drink and some words on paper, when she wasn't busy.

She ended up distracted again, though, when someone else entered the saloon. She looked up at him over the tops of her glasses, slightly raising an eyebrow. Although she'd never seen him in person, the awed whispers around the bar were enough to give away the man's alias--The Ranger. She was mildly impressed, at least for the moment. It took skill to become known in the bounty-hunting world.

Devon was less impressed when he started tossing back drinks, and went back to her book. A man was still nothing but a man, not worth that much attention.

Ryder had drained the entire bottle of Death Whiskey and was not even feeling slightly intoxicated. He was his normal self, he felt fine. He looked around at all the people in the saloon. He thought he got a sideways glance from a woman at the bar, but he didn't know for sure. He took another look around the place before turning to leave. He was caught by the shoulder by an old drunkard. "Hey you sorry 'lil prick, I'll kill ya!" The man was obviously too drunk to reason. Ryder picked him up and threw him across the room, slamming him into a table.
And because of that, a large, dark man and his crew rose from that same table. "Hey, punk! Turn around and face me!" the man said. Ryder turned his neck to look back, and saw the guy. He looked familiar to Ryder. He wondered if he'd ever seen him before. Ryder just glared from where he was. "You have any idea who's table you just trashed, punk?" one of the man's friends said.
It was then that Ryder recognized the big guy: Jeremiah Blake. Jeremiah was a very muscular, very dark-skinned, and very aggressive man. To most people, he would be considered a danger to society. To Ryder, he was just a fifty-thousand dollar paycheck. Ryder turned all the way around to face him.
"Of course I know who you are. Jeremiah Blake: wanted, dead or alive, for two counts of arson, one count of murder, theft, and rape, and six counts of marketing child pornography. Fifty-thousand dollars for your sorry ass". Ryder smirked, hands by his guns just in case.

Devon put her bottle to her lips to drink. It stayed there for another moment as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. Other bar patrons stood up, looking either panicked or angry. She seemed to be the only one who could watch it and be completely bored with the scenario. Then again, not many people had been in as many of this kind of encounters as she had.

She listened to "What's-his-face," as she referred to the Ranger for lack of a better name, list of the list of Jeremiah's crimes. Then she rolled her eyes. "Isn't that cute," she muttered. "One of the few bounties I don't hear about and it's one of the ones that would piss me off the most." Whether anyone heard her or not, she was unsure. It didn't matter.

She closed her book, put in a pocket in her jacket, and stood up. She made no moves otherwise. It was considered rude to try to take another hunter's bounty and she had no interest getting involved without being asked. As it was, she was naturally inclined to be on the hunter's side anyway. If this evolved into a big scuffle, she was ready to help if necessary. Not that it would be likely she would be needed.

Ryder was grinning, but eventually let it drop. "You don't deserve to live". With that, he drew hs pistols, first taking out Jeremiah's cronies, then aiming his guns at Jeremiah himself. The bandit had ducked behind a table, using it as cover. Ryder shot the table full of holes, trying to get to Jeremiah. The bandit sprung up, weilding a Red Dawn Weaponry Face Ripper Shotgun. These particular weapons were capable of full automatic fire, but had only twenty rounds. Twenty very devastating rounds that could be unloaded in a matter of seconds. Jeremiah sprayed the room with bullets, killing a few people in the process.
Ryder hit the ground, gritting his teeth at witnessing the murder of those people. He aimed his guns at Jeremiah, who was running towards the bar. He tackled the bartender, hiding behind the bar. Ryder stood, walking towards the bar with his guns raised. The sound of his boots going thud, thud, thud could be heard throughout the saloon. Jeremiah sprang up from behind the counter, shotgun to the bartender's head using the man as a sheild. "Take another step and he gets headless", the bandit threatened. Ryder stopped.
"That's right. You know what to do". Ryder started to lower his guns, knowing he couldn't do anything. Before his guns even reached his sides, Jeremiah had thrown the bartender aside, whipping his shotgun up in Ryder's face. RYder, however, had acted more quickly than Jeremiah had. He had already brought his guns up, twirling them and quickly unloading all his rounds into the bandit's body. Ryder named that little move "Desperado's Kiss". He smiled, watching the man's dead body fall. He jumped behind the counter, retrieving the body, jumped back over, and headed for the door.
The bartender watched, stunned, as The Ranger left his bullet-hole ridden establishment.

Throughout the fight in the bar, Devon stayed out of the way in her corner, quietly observing while avoiding getting shot at. Once she had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit and her hand immediately grasped one of her guns, but found little need to draw the weapon. The brawl seemed to end as quickly as it had begun. Not particularly efficiently, Devon admitted blandly, but quickly. Too bad for the ones who had died.

She shrugged to herself and left the bar, unintentionally following shortly behind the previous man. There was nothing left for her to do there. She couldn't imagine the bartender would exactly be willing to sell any more alcohol at the moment.

As she turned out of the bar and started going down the road, she hesitated and looked at the bottle she still held. Then she glanced back over her shoulder in the direction of the other bounty hunter, curious. While she knew she should get going and find the bounty she had originally come to this town for, especially if she had competition, she couldn't help but wonder. He was the Ranger after all, and while he wasn't a personal hero, he was admirable. Devon downed the last drops of alcohol in the bottle, gave a whistle to draw attention, and threw the bottle, just to see how he would react.

There was a whistle, and then a loud crash like glass breaking. Ryder turned to look. It was the woman from the saloon. What the hell does she want? Ryder thought. From the looks of it, it seemed she wanted a meeting. Ryder sometimes cursed his fame/infamy as he got caught up in situations like this. People always wanting to meet him, to find out if he was the real deal.
He got several requests to teach people the art of gunslinging, but he abruptly turned them down. He had more important things to do than show some wannabe gunslinger how to use a gun. There were criminals strown throughout Pandorum, and he wasn't going to stop hunting them all because somebody needed a teacher. He shook his head. Hopefully this wouldn't be another one of those occasions.
He had half a mind to turn back around and walk away, but he figured finding out what the woman wanted couldn't hurt that much. At least I'll be able to figure out if I need to steer clear of her, he thought. He strode forward, taking big strides to quicken his pace. He finally stopped, just five feet away from the woman. He looked up and stared coldly. "Yeah?" he said.