Savage Indiana Jones

A Real Mess of a Fight

My feet grinded to a halt. It wasn’t that I was afraid of the flames, I was just a bit concerned for my hair. Despite being sopping wet, who know’s what could happen. The shaking of the sharks below wasn’t helping much. Then I saw Chuck soaring on a rope across the water, followed by some newcomers that I assumed were on our side. So I dashed through the flames, praying that the wood doesn’t collapse beneath me sending me into the maws of the carnivores below. As I dashed through chuck shouted out me, “The slow fish is the cooked fish.”

I kept running past a group that had been beaten down. I fire again with my derringer into to fray still aways. This time I wasn’t so luck, and somehow the bullet ended up in a barrel besides me. Chuck was busy kung-fu-fighting, Armitage was nowhere to be seen, and our mercenary friend was pulling some room hopping run and gun manuevers.

I cart-wheeled sideways picking up a colt left beneath me. Taking careful aim I fired at the the martial artist fighting attacking Chuck. I really didn’t mean to hit him between the legs. No, really. I don’t have the finesse for such an attack.

I’ve got a bulletin (for) you.
Better keep an eye out for those young guns.
“Better keep an eye on those bullets.”

Not the cleverest, but one takes what they can get.

Chuck took out a few more mooks, and I fired off a few more shots. Reloading the Colt quickly would be out of the question, so once this barrier of foes, I double-checked how many bullets we I had before moving forward to support Chuck. it isn’t easy checking the Chambers when you don’t have the proper gunhand. If I was going to get one of these, I would have to have it made special (not that price would be an issue).

Moving forward I had a perfect shot through two doorways. Chuck was being double-teamed by two more of the skilled amrtial artists, but he managed to bob and weve between them. Even when they pulled out the flash paper he managed to outmanuever and counter them with a chain in one hand and a sword in the other.

The Sword of the General Cheng was not a very impressive sight. It was large; I could probably hardly carry it on my shoulder, but it was not the gem-encrusted beauty my mind imagined. Chuck managed to claim the sword, but continued to gith agin with his improvised weapons.

I kept to the corned taking shots in, and so slowly it seemed we mopped up the area. All except for one gangmember peeping out from around a crate. Before he could ambush anyone though, I leaped around the room and disabled him with a gentle shot to the shoulder.

Looking around I realized that collection work is, and will always be, a mess.



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