2 2.deniable team

Two weeks later

The arching figure of the man was but a caricature of the famous gunslinger. Sitting in the simple wood bench, he examined his last revolver in his hands. Searching for any broken parts or imperfection. He signs, finding nothing wrong at his seventh checking. His eyes up the gun, he looks at his companions and soroundings.

A simple one room house, made with dry clay and poor wood, with a simple roof of leaves and wheat hardened by a simple paste of pebbles and wet sand. There was almost no furniture, just his bench and a table made off a plank and 2 blocks of dirt and wood

The furthest away froom the door was a huge and threatening figure. With a very dark scale skin and an enormous shell in his back, the turtleman mas wearing just some loose pelts and wraps in his arms and legs. He stands at 2.6 meters high, and is much wider than any human.

Contrasting his intimidating aperance, for the few hours the gunslinger knew him, he was the most peaceful of the bunch. He is sitting in a meditating pose, eyes closed and stable breathing, his mind like the water in a cup, calm and pure.

Napping on the ground, or at least faking a nap, there was yellow pelt, small looking cat man. Although only 1.50 meters high when he stood up, the vigilant knew his unstable attitude and dangerous abilities. That was because they new each other for a while, and considered friend by him and partners by the gunslinger. He layed in a cuddle position with his bag, packed to the brim with tools to weapons to food to toys to... well, acquired posesions.

Sitting o the table was a woman, with a sparkly and energetic little kid bouncing around her. The woman, with have a olive skin and short red hair, was wearing a simple brown shirt and gray pants, with simple boots. In a sack behind her there was a set of leather armour, and 2 bastard sword in the table in front of her. The little girl was amazed at the 2 weapons, asking questions and giving answers herself, because the woman only responded in grunts and a couple of words.

The gunslinger was concerned about the child. He knew that him and the others where capable of the task. But she looked like a simple kid, in a simple yellow dress and sandals. The mission would not be a walk in the park, it was dangerous and critical. As he thought of the job, he remembered his recruitment

....

The orange skinned man with the sledgehammer came out of a hidden space berrind the cabinet. He had made such a powerful strike that it threw the vigilant of the balcony and into the slum ground, 2 levels bellow. The blow also broke one of the handguns, some hand bones and caused some concussions on the back of the man covered in black and violet

Layed flat on his back, the gunslinger followed the steps of survival. First, search for medical emergencies and fractures, he was trying to catch his breath. His left hand was useless, and his torso hurt like hell. The second rule was to identify immediate threats. With the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny humanoid run toward him, boneknife in hand. Than the third step, identify resources. That moment he realised his functioning weapon has out of reach, more than a meter away on the ground.

He started to roll toward the revolver, trying to ignore the pain. The moment he reached and pointed the tube at the creature, he realised it was running away. Thinking for half a second, he realised he wasn't the reason, and looked behind him.

He glimpsed at a lit oil lantern, and two man in guard uniform. They where close, to close. Before he could point the weapon, sitting strait, the guard without the lantern jumped on him, immobilizing his health arm. The other screamed for help and bashed a hand bronze bell, raising the alarm.

Skilledly, the gunslinger leglocked the guard on top of him and rolled him over his on body, freeing himself. The other guard tried to tackle him, but he got up in a unessessary complex move, using his gun wilding hand to support his support while backfliping. As his boots touched the ground, he darted into the aley.

For a moment, he though he lost then. But another guard speared in the curve of that compressed path. Surrounded, the vigilant bashed his elbow into a door, breaking the lock on the second try and rolling inside it. He booked it inside what looked like a bakery, coming of the kitchen and jumping in the counter. Spotting a set of stairs, he ran up them, into the second floor.

He found a bad quality window. He sprinted toward it, pretending to break it with his weight. Than, a sixty sense activated inside him, the kind only experience can provide. He tried to stop running, but it was to late. From the shadows of the outside, someone covered in dark skinny clothes bashed the window, and stretched hands towards his face. A cloth piece soaked in some strange liquid covered his mouth and nose, giving almost not enough time to stop breathing and slide bellow the attacker

As he stood up, he realised that the cloth was stuck in his face. As he tried to reach it with his healthy hand, the figure in the dark threw a dagger in his arm,stoping it midway. Than, that person round kicked his face and pounced him, holding his arm.

Running out of breath and forced to breath after the hit, the last thing he saw were the guards running to his flor. And than it all fade to black

He woke up ours later. Stuck in a chair by many chains. He was im a dark room, made of gray rock. The only furniture was his metal chair and metal table in front of him. On the other side of the table, a man just slapped his face to wake him up.

He started talking about the gunslinger crimes, but he barely noticed what he said. His mind was still dizzy, and he realised there was someone behind him concealing his presence. He turned back his attention to the man after getting slapped again

"As i was saying, this is one dirty ass file you have." The interrogator said" you are a man witch took into your own hands to peacefy the city. And you are than good at that."

They made him the proposal. To work for the crown forces to clear himself. If he refused, he would take the death sentence. No room for discution there. He had no choice. Before ending his speech, the guard commented to the gunslinger, who took it in a apparent calm and serenity, until that point it is.

" why is there white pounder and paint in your face. Is this your sense of makeup"

For the first time, the man with the makeup responded, in a tone that indicated he just lost it

" it ain't fucking make up, you uncultured swine, it is part of my justice seeker persona"

" So it is just a drees up.."

The words used by the man tied to his chair where to uneducated for a civilised story, enough to say that it made the guard gasp, scream and slap the prisoner several more times

As he was been escorted out of the prison, many days latter, his wounds healed by the state magistrarians, he spotted a familiar yellow patern. The feline man was locked in a woden structure with holes for his hands and head, and he esasperatedly called the attention of the man been escorted out. The gunslinger said:

" if i am going to to this, i will need guns, my cape, my ammo, my paint kit( it aint makeup) and that puss over there"

That was the benning of the king's deniable team