Burned Out (Prologue)

Burned Out

A steampunk story of a down-on-his-luck bandit coming across a new 'friend'.


The swinging doors of the saloon are sent flying by sheer force. I swear, that wasn't the intended purpose, but whatever works to get my point across...

A few trinkets I've collected over the years bang together, sending out a tinny sound into the surrounding area.

This place is as dead as it was back when I left, all those years ago. Two dead parents, leaving me alone as a young boy. A couple of robbery bounties later, I was left riding the Steam-Rail all the way out to Midtenn, wherever the hell that actually was.

An older gentleman, hair faded to gray by the grandfather clock ticking off in the corner of the room. His eyes peel up to me from the tin mug he's cleaning, still spinning his rag covered hand in a circular motion around the inner ring.

His shining gold tooth reflects light into my vision as he gives me a wide grin.

“And who might you be, stranger?”

I tug the rag down from over my lips, leaving it hanging around my neck. In the process, I pop off my cap and move forward to a bar seat, leaving it on the chair beside me.

His smile grows, leaving me with a plentiful amount of guilt.

“Well, I'll be damned. If it ain't my old friend Jack!” He gives the bar top a powerful smack. His voice, however, takes a more somber turn.

“Ya' know you've got some kind of iron will, showing your face around here like this.”

I sigh, reaching back and pulling out a few jewels and coins that I've held precious for a long, long time.

It's pretty shit, knowing that I was saving these in hope that they'd never see use.

A back up plan. That last resort, only ever going to see the light of day in a moment of desperation or unforeseen circumstance.

Well, this is the two of those hitting me at once.

I pitch them onto the counter top, leaving him in awe.

“Just round me up the usual, Luther. Think of that as my payment for the whole evening.”

Without hesitation, he scoops up the gift and takes them into his back room, obviously leaving them in his master safe in the back.

He was always a strange one about that kind of payment. Always had a knowledgeable side to him; especially if it meant him practically being a fence for 'illegal' activities.

Upon his return, he gets to work on a personal favorite: a good ol' mix of gin, rum and a touch of tonic. In a short amount of time, a mug full of alcohol is slid in front of me, my body all to eager to drink up what has been given to me.

Luther pulls up a stool on the other side, taking a seat and crossing his arms in front of him.

“Jack, talk to me. What the hell happened to you?”

I take a drawn out swig of the concoction in my mug, releasing a hefty sigh before taking the open invitation to respond.

“I'm broke. Ya' know what I just gave you?” I lean myself onto the bar, pointing my arm lazily towards the back room. “My back up plan. My one-hundred and fifty percent 'foolproof' back up plan. That's the last of what I have to my name, and it ain't ever even been to my name in the first place, friend.”

He rubs the back of his head sympathetically, the gears in his brain obviously churning.

“All I can tell ya' is that you've come back to the right place.” He picks up yet another mug and begins to polish it off. “After all, home is where the heart is, right?”

A bittersweet flashback hits me like a Steam-Rail train.

“Home...” I repeat it to him, his response just being a simple nod.

“Do ya' really think I can call this place my home anymore, Luther? After the thieving and tom-foolery that I left behind me, I might as well have been legally exiled from here. The only difference between what I did while leaving and exile is that they forced me out by wanting my head for display.”

He shrugs, surprisingly not concerned at all.

“If ya' wait a tick, I can introduce you to someone new. Maybe she can help get ya' up off your behind and back into the business.”

She?

This has got to be a joke.

There's maybe a maximum of five well renowned women in my area of expertise, I suppose you could call it. Most are just petty, impoverished people looking for a way to support an ever growing family.

Luther never tells a lie. He knows when to say something as if it were engraved into his brain as a some sort of geared mechanism.

I turn around in my seat, leaning my back into the edge of the counter top and resting my elbows on it as well.

“I'm hoping you impress me here, Luther. I know you speak no nonsense, but is a woman really the best you've-”

My speech is brutally interrupted by a revolver shot ringing into the air. After gathering myself from a near fall out of pure terror, I check my surroundings to make sure everything is okay.

Of course, the only real victim was the ceiling. Luther laughs from behind me as I'm met by the sight of none other than the fine lady that he had been speaking of.

I recognize her from the wanted signs. All of the bounties, all of the warrants for arrest...

They call her 'Short Fuse'.

She's barely clipping five feet in height. By the apparent trigger finger, I have a feeling she's got a temper that just about matches her size.

Of course, her grin she's beaming at me right now is sarcastic.

There is no way that it could be anything else.

“Well now, what do we have here? Luther, ya' didn't tell me we'd be having a guest this evening!”

He shrugs yet again, apparently not too interested in the current situation. She must be one of his few regulars nowadays.

“Take is easy now, partner. He's a boy looking for work. I thought maybe you'd be able to get him back on the right track.” I hear him groan from behind me, my eyes still fixated on the woman standing before me.

“And god dammit, Vivian, would ya' please stop shootin' those damn holes in my roof? This is gonna be the fifth one I've had to patch up in the past week!”

Vivian, huh?

She bounces forward, clearly energetic as a mess of jewels and belts rattle along the way. Plopping down into the seat beside me, she already has a drink waiting for her, obviously something that Luther had been doing behind my back.

I turn back around to the bar, staring at Luther blankly.

“I thought you were going to gimme someone I could work with, not a little girl who's fast to pull the trigger.”

I can feel them.

Those eyes of hers are most certainly burning into my skull.

She shrugs it off, taking her turn to take a shot back.

“You're gonna get me to work with a loud mouth with nothin' to his name? Christ, old man, I could of swore you would have done me better than that.”

He shakes his head, still working on cleaning his precious mugs.

“The last three I gave ya' ended up dead at your own hand, little Missy. Now, I'm givin' you someone that I know has his ways of getting' the job done. So just saddle up and take him for a ride, you'll see what he can do right quick.”

She gets up from her seat grabbing me by the collar.

Of course, my initial reaction is to pull out my pistol and get her the hell off of me.

And, of course, that wasn't the best of my initial reactions I've had in my lifetime.

I've found myself on the ground with the small girl straddling me, boot on my neck with a gun pointing in my face. She puts on a smile once again, thinking out loud.

“I'm gonna have a whole mess of fun with you, boy.”

I think I'm going to learn a thing or two from her.