Power Hungry DM
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- Posted: Sat, 19 Jul 2014 08:45:51 +0000
Hey y'all, this is my first post here on Gaia so... Yay? neutral Been rewatching of Firefly lately and decided to post a short little space western thing I wrote a few months ago. Hoping to get some opinions on whether anyone would be interested in longer stories in this vein. Comments and critique are welcome and VERY encouraged. smile
Also, I cannot for the life of me figure out how indentations work here and it's driving me nuts. (I'm new to the site.) So any help in that department would be much appreciated.
Also, I cannot for the life of me figure out how indentations work here and it's driving me nuts. (I'm new to the site.) So any help in that department would be much appreciated.
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A noxious concoction or gases and fumes burned Richter’s lungs like fire with every labored breath. These badlands seemed to stretch on for what seemed like thousands of miles, with only the occasional chimney vent breaking up the flat skyline. Siren’s twin suns seared the cracked soil like the eyes of an angry god, parching the land of precious moisture. Richter took a sip from his canteen and scanned the horizon, looking for signs of his quarry. Night would be coming soon, and he didn't want to be out here come nightfall.
He was a bounty hunter, gun for hire, tracker, and all around equal-opportunity b*****d. He’d been hired to find and capture a debtor to a powerful crime family back on Centaur Station, a nasty Trog son of a b***h known for his itchy trigger finger and a hot temper. Richter had been chasing the the dumb lug for a few days now, and he had kindly decided to make a beeline right through the badlands, leaving a nice, clear set of tracks behind for his pursuer.
Richter checked down the scope of his rifle for signs of movement. Bingo. He saw the hulking behemoth doubled over against a chimney vent, gasping for every breath. Richter dropped down low and lined up his shot. Get the knee, drop him nice and clean. He put his finger on the trigger and held his breath, then his target suddenly flickered out of existence. What the hell? The bounty hunter heard a click and a whir then he felt the cold steel of muzzle against the back of his skull. Dammit.
“So much as a twitch and I’ll paint the dirt with your gray bits.” a deep voice growled from behind him. The bounty hunter stayed perfectly still, he didn't doubt for a second the man meant business.
He had been careless, fell for a simple decoy, if he didn't know any better he’d say he was losing his edge. But, of course, he knew better.
“Get up, slowly. Face me.” the voice commanded. The Trog tore Richter’s hat off his buzzed head. "Richter Vaughan is that you? Abramov must be gettin' desperate to send trash like you after me.” The Troglodyte laughed, flashing him a cruel, toothy grin.
"Reckon so." Richter replied nonchalantly. He looked the beast in the eyes. "No one has to get hurt here today friend, what say you we just walk away, chalk this up to a misunderstanding?"
The Trog let out a howling laugh. "You think I was born just yesterday? I'd have a round right between my shoulder blades before I walked three paces. I oughta put a hole right between those pretty boy eyes just to shut you up." He pushed the barrel of the gun firmly between Richter's eyes.
"Now that's just not true, friend." Richter replied. The Trog's brow raised. "You're worth triple alive."
Before the Trog had a chance to react, Richter dropped to one knee and drew his knife. He plunged the serrated blade deep into the behemoth's calf, deep into the bone. The Trog howled in agony and dropped his pistol on the ground. Richter rolled between it's legs, grabbing the pistol as he went. He reappeared behind the Troglodyte, planting the barrel of the pistol at the base of it's neck.
"Quit while you're ahead friend, this don't end well for you." Richter said coldly to the beast of a man. The Trog roared and began to turn around.
A gunshot rang out across the Badlands. The Troglodyte fell in a heap on the ground. Richter sighed and wiped the gore off his duster. Stubborn a*****e. Richter went to retrieve his knife, only to find it broken at the hilt. The bounty hunter kicked the corpse in frustration, grabbed his rifle, and started dragging the fresh corpse back to his land cruiser. He was going to have to hurry if he was to get the body back to his ship before nightfall. He didn't want to be out here come nightfall.
He was a bounty hunter, gun for hire, tracker, and all around equal-opportunity b*****d. He’d been hired to find and capture a debtor to a powerful crime family back on Centaur Station, a nasty Trog son of a b***h known for his itchy trigger finger and a hot temper. Richter had been chasing the the dumb lug for a few days now, and he had kindly decided to make a beeline right through the badlands, leaving a nice, clear set of tracks behind for his pursuer.
Richter checked down the scope of his rifle for signs of movement. Bingo. He saw the hulking behemoth doubled over against a chimney vent, gasping for every breath. Richter dropped down low and lined up his shot. Get the knee, drop him nice and clean. He put his finger on the trigger and held his breath, then his target suddenly flickered out of existence. What the hell? The bounty hunter heard a click and a whir then he felt the cold steel of muzzle against the back of his skull. Dammit.
“So much as a twitch and I’ll paint the dirt with your gray bits.” a deep voice growled from behind him. The bounty hunter stayed perfectly still, he didn't doubt for a second the man meant business.
He had been careless, fell for a simple decoy, if he didn't know any better he’d say he was losing his edge. But, of course, he knew better.
“Get up, slowly. Face me.” the voice commanded. The Trog tore Richter’s hat off his buzzed head. "Richter Vaughan is that you? Abramov must be gettin' desperate to send trash like you after me.” The Troglodyte laughed, flashing him a cruel, toothy grin.
"Reckon so." Richter replied nonchalantly. He looked the beast in the eyes. "No one has to get hurt here today friend, what say you we just walk away, chalk this up to a misunderstanding?"
The Trog let out a howling laugh. "You think I was born just yesterday? I'd have a round right between my shoulder blades before I walked three paces. I oughta put a hole right between those pretty boy eyes just to shut you up." He pushed the barrel of the gun firmly between Richter's eyes.
"Now that's just not true, friend." Richter replied. The Trog's brow raised. "You're worth triple alive."
Before the Trog had a chance to react, Richter dropped to one knee and drew his knife. He plunged the serrated blade deep into the behemoth's calf, deep into the bone. The Trog howled in agony and dropped his pistol on the ground. Richter rolled between it's legs, grabbing the pistol as he went. He reappeared behind the Troglodyte, planting the barrel of the pistol at the base of it's neck.
"Quit while you're ahead friend, this don't end well for you." Richter said coldly to the beast of a man. The Trog roared and began to turn around.
A gunshot rang out across the Badlands. The Troglodyte fell in a heap on the ground. Richter sighed and wiped the gore off his duster. Stubborn a*****e. Richter went to retrieve his knife, only to find it broken at the hilt. The bounty hunter kicked the corpse in frustration, grabbed his rifle, and started dragging the fresh corpse back to his land cruiser. He was going to have to hurry if he was to get the body back to his ship before nightfall. He didn't want to be out here come nightfall.
