Jump 352: Generic Western

Jump #352: Generic Western
>Three of Pentacles (Works), reversed: Holding back or failing to use one's abilities to their full potential.
Come on, don't think that would be cheating? Come on now, don't be cruel.
>Age: 25
>Location: The Dollars Trilogy
That is, the southwest, in 1865 - the end of the US civil war. The chronology of the movies is backward from how it was published, amusingly. Makes it interesting to put a cohesive narrative together, doesn't it?
>Identity: Drop-In
>Drawbacks: (+300) Rules In A Knife Fight, A Cowboy Rides Alone
So not only do I feel obligated to give everyone a chance to surrender, even if they're shooting, but I'm also isolated. I suppose a role as a wandering lawman might fit, in such a case.
>Dressed To Kill (1250, Drop-In)
What's that you say? Even the weirdest outfit looks good and won't impede any of my activities? Yes please.
>Kung Fu (1050)
So... a wandering lawman with dragons burned into both his wrists. I'm okay with this, actually. Being able to fight effectively without a weapon is a bonus.
>Hooker With A Heart Of Gold (850)
This goes right along with Rules In A Knife Fight. It won't work every time, but if I can try to seek redemption rather than death... isn't that something worth taking a bullet for?
>Just Good At Killing Things (350)
Sometimes, though, you can't draw the line at trying to redeem someone. Sometimes, they can't be redeemed. And when that finally happens... all you can do is go to work in the most efficient manner possible. Being able to refine the things I already do to remove anything that is not absolutely necessary is a bonus, though.
>Poncho (300, Drop-In)
I don't need to always be walking around announcing who I am. Besides, it's good at keeping the trail dust off. Wearing a longcoat in this era might get me mistaken for a soldier.
>Star (200)
As I said. Wandering lawman. This just makes it official.
>Posse (0)
My cadre enjoys their time in this world. Sometimes with me, more often without.

So. A federal marshall, set to roam the desert, with a reputation of being fair... but lenient? No, of course not. I am not there to judge. I am not there to be their executioner. But I am the law. If they shoot first, I will ensure I shoot last.

I imagine my appearance would be fairly distinctive, after all - a lawman wearing a poncho and a badge hidden just under the edge of it, a pair of red-tinted spectacles, a decent hat, and a hand cannon that defies description. And somehow, all pictures taken of him end up with him looking smudged. Curious. Regardless... over the next decade, among many other things, I cross paths with a couple of people repeatedly.

Tuco Ramirez... well, after everything went down, Tuco decided that maybe his brother had the right idea. Called the blonde a dirty son of a bitch, after he was freed from his noose, but their days together were most certainly done. I'd not interfered in the whole event, but Tuco knew who I was. Or rather, what I was. And I laughed, and told him that it seemed to me that the man who walked out wasn't the same man who walked in. I cut his bonds, gave him a pack to carry the gold coins in, a small fortune considering the time period, and wished him well.

After he rode off, I walked over to a kicked the seemingly dead man in the side and he groaned. "Colonel, you've made a right mess of things," I told him. "Abandoned your post for the lust of greed. You're lucky the war's ending in a couple of months, it'll get brushed under the rug if you play your cards right." I nudged him with a toe to roll him onto his back, and he groaned again. "Oh, knock it off, I know those two bullets didn't kill you and he missed with the other two warning shots. You just played dead because you knew he'd kill you otherwise."

>"Damn you." He coughed, blood coloring his lips, and grabbed the offered drink I passed down to him. "You just let them get away."

"You, my friend, arguably committed treason. You're lucky I have a civilian commission, or I'd haul you to the stockade. Come on now, get out of that hole," I drawled. "One of those men is a bandit who's realized his mistake, got his money, and is going to donate most of it to the church before he goes home. The other, a bounty hunter. I know the type. He's never going to settle down."

>"A bounty hunter." He rinsed his mouth with the drink, then spit it out. "I don't know what you're on about. The man's a grave robber. Enlisted in the army and deserted. ...strange, I'm feeling a little bit better. Tastes like strawbery wine."

I nodded toward him, offering him a hand up to get him on his feet. "Mm. Doctor Bees' snake oil tonic, good for what ails you, even if that's high velocity lead poisoning," I grinned. Then pointed behind a gravestone, where one bag of gold remained. "So... tell you what. That there? That's yours. Head back, let the army know that an emergency came up with the family. You could retire... but I know your type as well, Mortimer."

>"Oh, you do, do you?" he remarked skeptically, before drinking the rest of the tonic.

"Certainly. Army's going to be gutted. You might get a pension, between that and the gold you could retire. But let's face it, you're never going to hang up your gun."

>"Perhaps there is something to your speculation, lawman," Angel Eyes murmured, looking downward, poking his wound. "No pain...?"

"Numb, you'll scar, but you'll be healed in a matter of days. Bleeding should've stopped. You'll be sore when the weather turns, that's the price you pay," I told him. "That isn't easy to come by, so don't think I can give that to you again."

>"What sort of lawman ARE you, anyway?"

I smiled. "The kind that believes in second chances, when a man might be willing to make good on it. What say you, colonel?"

>"I say I'd be stranded without a horse and with bullet holes in me without your aid. Who am I to reject your generosity?"