[M] We Never Sleep [IC]

[L]

We Never Sleep



http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c4/We_never_sleep.jpg


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Louisiana – Missouri border
17th February,
1870


The Southern Daisy, pride of the Missouri Pacific Railroad Company, made its slow and ponderous journey along the railway from Louisiana on its way towards the final destination of Chicago.

The train pulled quite a few carriages despite its smaller size. The first 4 carriages were devoted to passengers and were always more than half full. They were nicely decorated both inside and out, and cushioned seats made the long trips less arduous on passengers than the more common wood seats. Currently passengers chatted between themselves casually while a child, no more than 5 ran up and down the aisle of the first carriage, squealing with amusement.

A dining carriage with a few men dressed in white tuxedo's and a large-busted waitress that served basic meals and and alcohol throughout the day followed behind the passenger carriages, and then a luxurious VIP carriage with its own private bar.

Behind the VIP carriage was a new addition specifically funded and provided by the Pinkerton Detective Agency - a heavily armored carriage with barred windows and every inch covered in 5 inch think steel. The only entrance to this armored carriage was from the back of the VIP carriage and barred by a padlocked steel door.

Inside the armored carriage, nearly a dozen figures – men and women – sat on the cold floor. The carriage was completely bare of any basic necessities let alone furniture and all of the men and women were shackled with thick, heavy chains at hands and feet and bolted to the floor of the carriage.

The only light that penetrated in was from the 2 smalls barred windows near the top of the carriage.

The passengers of that armored carriage weren't missing much in the way of scenery, though, as The Southern Daisy passed through endless, barren grassland on the way across the border between Louisiana and Missouri.

Occasionally Daisy would pass a town, allowing its passengers time to stretch their legs or depart as the case may be while food was restocked and mail was changed, but for most of the time, the train just plodded along slowly towards Chicago.


http://www.thezephyr.com/oldtrains.jpg


-

An hour out from of a small town on the Louisiana/Missouri border dozen men mounted on a mix of black, white and gray horses sat and watched The Southern Daisy approach. 2 of the men sat slightly forward of the group, both dressed in neat suits with Stetson cowboy hats and clean shaven.

All of the men wore rifles strapped across their backs and a variety of handguns at their waist.

'This the train?' the obvious younger of the 2 leaders asked.

'Looks like it,' he nodded towards the back of The Southern Daisy,' 'that's serious protection for a simple carriage. The money is in there for sure'

'The Johnson boy was telling the truth then'

'Seems like it. You know what to do'

The younger of the men nodded, nudging his gray mount in to a gallop towards the approaching train.


-

Within the lavishly decorated VIP carriage, Henry Fuller, standing behind a mahogany desk. The VIP carriage usually hosted State Politicians and acted as a mobile office as they traveled throughout their lands, but at the moment it had been rented by the Pinkerton Detective Agency to act as a mobile command post for a Henry and his Hunters.


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Henry took a swig from his personal bottle of bourbon, smiled and pointed – bottle in hand – at the array of weapons and wanted posters on the table in front of him. He ran his free hand over one of the Colt revolvers, the one with the amazing golden cross emblem on the grip, and looked at his fellows before him in the carriage. One of the men sat in a chair with his feet up on the front of the desk while his companions took seat on the more luxurious sofa placed against one of the walls.

'Gentlemen. Today is a good day. While it may not be that Jesse James boy and his brother, we've gone and gotten ourselves some real scum' Henry spoke with a voice from years of yelling commands on the battlefield.

The other 4 men raised their own drinks, toasting the impromptu speech, though one of The Hunters – the one with his feet on the desk, frowned through his thick beard.

'Still think we should have just offed them Henry. Having to travel all the way back to Chicago while babysitting them is not my idea of hunting down criminals'

Picking up the Revolver and turning it over, studying it. Beautiful weapon, he thought to himself. He looked down at the man as he responded.

'I agree. But Allan sent word that pressure is mounting on him because of our... methods. He wants proof that we're not just thugs and we're worth the trouble'

The other man shrugged and took a swig of his own drink, but accepted the answer quietly.


-

Dark clouds had been gathering for the last few hours, and as the lone horseman rode up to the locomotive of the The Southern Daisy, the first drops of rain started to fall.

Neither of the 2 blue-dressed men within the locomotive, currently shoveling coal in to the fire, noticed as the man jumped from the horse to the carriage, climbing up inside the cabin. He pulled a Colt Revolver from its holster and shot both men in the back of the head.

Holstering the Revolver, the man then yanked the brake on The Southern Daisy, bringing the train to a jerking, skidding stop in the middle of nowhere.


-

The sudden stop sent everything flying in the VIP Carriage as the weapons and wanted posters were thrown across the room and Henry fell in forwards in to the desk, knocking the wind from his lungs as bottles of bourbon smashed on the floor and the rest of the group was thrown around the carriage.

Gathering himself, sucking in a deep lungful of air to recover, Henry ran to the window where he heard the galloping of horses and he instantly knew the Train was under attack.

As Henry looked out the window, he saw the horses approaching and the 2 lead horsemen riding hard directly for the armored carriage.

Henry knew the men instantly – their wanted posters had been on the desk in front of him.

Jesse and Frank James.



http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/4c/Jesse_and_Frank_James.gif/220px-Jesse_and_Frank_James.gif


-

For the next 20 minutes, gun fire rang out around the whole train.

Cole Younger, the man that had brought the train to a halting stop, worked his way through the passenger carriages. He waved his gun about, forcing passengers to give up their valuables. One man had tried to stand and reason with the Younger brother, but had been shot in the leg for his trouble.

As Cole was amusing himself in the passenger carriages, however, the bulk of the action centered around the VIP Carriage as the James brothers and the rest of the gang traded shots with each other. So far 1 of the James gang had been killed, though one of the Hunters had also been shot – a gapping hole was now bleeding profusely on his right arm. But he continued to trade shots with the James gang.

Eventually the 2 James brothers and their companions managed to force Henry and his allies in to retreat through sheer weight of numbers.

Henry himself was the last of The Hunters to retreat to the other side of the train. He knew when he was fighting a loosing battle. As he retreated though, he continued to fire the Revolver.... the revolver with the gold cross emblem that had belonged to Connor Reid.

Finally in control of the train, Jesse rummaged through the VIP carriage and found the key to the armored carriage.

He smiled. 'Payday'

-


Jesse stepped through the Armored carriage first, followed by Frank. It was Frank showed surprise.

'Where's the money. They Johnson boy said this was a gold carriage! This is meant to be filled with goddamn gold'

Jesse frowned, clenched his teeth.

'Never, NEVER, trust a Johnson. Tha boy gonna find hisself dead for this. Hunt him down an kill 'im dead'

The 2 men looked over the current occupants of the carriage – all shakled and looking worse for wear and understood that this was a prison carriage, not a gold carriage. He felt the fool for not realizing sooner.

They were about to turn and leave when one of the other members of the gang burst in. The baby faced boy seemed far too young for holding a gun, and the grin he wore spoke of excitment.

'We gots 'em retreatin boss. Dem Hunters ain't so tough, they runnin' like chickuns'

The boy stopped and looked around, finally noticing the contents of the carriage.

'Hey! I thoughts we were gettin' gold out of this Jesse. You ain't said nothin' 'bout no prisoners. I knew we shoulda gone after that treasure hoarde in Texas. Least we knows it was real'

Frank James, standing closest to the boy, slapped the boy up-side the head hard.

'Would you shut-up! Don't go spreading word about no treasure 'round people, it's meant to be secret so only we's know about it'

Jesse sighed, turned and pushed his way out of the carriage. As he was walking out he spoke to the 2 other men.

'They know now – boy, kill 'em all and try not to screw that up too. Then we's are goin' to Texas'

As Frank and Jesse left the carriage, the young gang member drew his rifle, ready to follow out Jesse's orders and kill the group of prisoners.

[Crow]

Laura looked up a bit startled when the train came to a sudden stop. Then the males entered the cabin, and a smirk appeared on her beautiful white face 'Jackpot' she though as she looked at the young gangster with the rifle in his hands. She put on her best seductive face she could, kicking up part of her dress to reveal a bit of her thigh to the man.

"If you let me out of these chains... I'll give you the best ride of your life" Laura said in a seductive tone. She batted her blue eyes for the man, she then pressed her shoulders together slightly to push together a bit of her cleavage.

[Higurashi]

The instant the train stopped Andrew Masten was on his feet. He may have been slow witted, but it was easy to tell that the train was being forcibly stopped. This was reinforced by the sound of gunshots outside. Andrew could hear screaming, and more gun shots. He figured that whoever was stopping the train would eventually come to the carriage he and the other prisnorer were in. Being the last in the lin of chains made it easier to hide. He backed into the corner next the door.

When the bandits came in, Andrew was silently praying for them no to see him. Thankfully, they didn't. They began talking, and Andrew knew exactly what they were talking about. He knew the Johnson man they spoke of. That rat assed coward who was responsible for all his current problems. Andrew listened to the argue and saw the other two leave. When they turned to walk out he was sure they would see him, but they didn't.

The boy they left began raising his rifle to start shooting, but Andrew was already on him. He gatherd up loose chain and sprang onto the boy, wrapping the chain around his neck and pulling it tight. As he pulled tighter, the boy thrashed around, and Andrew sat on top of him so his struggling wouldn't attract attention. Andrew could hear the wheezes that were supposed to be shouts, and they were becoming lesser and lesser.

Finally, the boy stilled, and Andrew got off of him. He grabbed the boy rifle, and began rummaging through his pockets. He found some extra bullets, and a locket. Andrew stowed both of these in his own pockets, and looked around at the others in the cabin. "Now then. I figure we aint gonna get out of this without working t'gether. So be quite and try to figure oiut how teh get these here chains off. " he then looked over at the girl who had tried to seduce the man and shrugged. "He was gunna shoot yer after that miss. So I went and dealt with 'im."

[Crow]

Laura raised a quick eyebrow "Not if I couldn't kill him first" she said smirking as she then stood up, her dress going back to it's original position. She looked at her chains with a pout before thinking "One of the hunters must have the keys to these...." she said as she then had an idea.

She bent over, getting a pin from her hair and trying to pick the lock with the pin in her mouth... Not caring if the guys got aroused by it.

[Shifty]

Aaron Nielsen was asleep most of the train ride, but was rudely awoken when it stopped. He didn't tried to go back to sleep, thinking there was just something in the way of the train, or something wrong with the engine. Anything that slowed their trip was welcome, seeing as they would most likely be killed once they reached their destination. Only when gunshots rang out throughout the train did Aaron perk up, and begin listening.

He just watched as several men waled into the car, then left as a young man got ready to shoot them all. he also calmly watched as another prisoner came up from behind and strangled the boy. He finally spoke as the woman began to try to pick the lock on her chains.

"Hurry, miss, we got to get out quick. Those men will wonder what happened when they don't hear gunshots from here, and when that boy doesn't return. If they come back, we will all surely be dead." He tried to keep his voice calm, but it still came out panicked, and carried just a twinge of a Swedish accent, but nothing more noticable than the other man's country drawl.

[Crow]

Laura finished picking at her lock and turned the pin with her teeth to let the lock fall off. She shook off her chains and then flipped her hair from her face with one swift bend upwards, causing her whitish-blonde locks to fall. Her hairpin wouldn't be fast enough to get everyone uncuffed, so she looked around to try and find something to get everyone out fast.

She took off one of her earings and picked the lock of the westerner, setting him free. She pushed her hairpin into his hands"You work from the left, i'll work from the right" she wispered as she gave him a nod and began to work on picking the locks

[Higurashi]

Andrew watched as the girl picked her lock. It never accured to him that the positioned she was in looked remotely sexy. When the girl finished picking her own lock, she picked his, giving him a hairpin, and tellingn him to unlock the other's chains. He looked dumbly at the hairpin for a second before what she meant worked itself into his brain. He immeadiantly began working the nearest person's lock with the hairpin. After some diffiuclty, he succeeded. He then moved on to the next person.

After all the chain were unlocked, Andrew took a peek out the door of the carriage. He didn't see anyone in the next cabin. Regardless, he crouched down to below window height so no one outside could see him. Peeking up over a window, he saw several men on horses. He waited until they weren't looking, and aimed out an open window. He was unsure wether to take the shot or not. After some consideration, he pulled the trigger, planting a shot directly in the back of one of the rider's head.

[Crow]

Laura finished picking the locks on her side, setting the men and other woman free. She then looked over to see the Westerner pull the trigger and shoot someone in the head, she then reached back into her bustle and grabbed her pistol and shot another one in the chest.

Many would question where she got the pistol from so she simply answered "A Man never looks, and a Woman never tells" she said with a smirk.

[TwinDeath]

Laura’s dialogue written by Crow

It took Travis a few seconds to realize he was free. The shots and yells of the fight had sent him spinning back to the First Battle of Manassas. It was early in his career, and he had yet to learn the first of many rules of warfare: Always stay low. He had been under the command of Brigadier General Johnston, keeping ahead of the main army as they moved to support General Beauregard. Travis had been moving quietly, just like he had when hunting in the bayou during his youth. That was the problem; this wasn’t the bayou. A union soldier had seen Travis, raised his gun, and –

The loud CRACK of a palm against his cheek brought Travis back to the present. "Will you snap out of it? You're freaking me out! We've gotta get moving, or we'll get shot and most likely die. Got that?" hissed the saloon tart as she shook him.

“’M back. ‘M here,” mumbled Travis, still seeing the stock of his rifle shatter in front of him as the enemy’s round hit it. Blinking the images away, he pushed himself up, stumbling slightly as he refocused on the train and not a battleground he had left behind him long ago.

Moving quickly to the VIP car, Travis hunted through the chaos the Daisy’s sudden stop had created. Where are they, where are… Ha! Triumphantly grabbing his marksman’s rifle and pistol belt, Travis slipped them on. He was about to keep rooting for his knives when a stray bullet from the James Gang sliced through the carriage. Ladies, I’ll be back, Travis silently promised his collection.

Bashing out a window, Travis took careful aim at Jesse’s horse, his finger slowly tightening on the trigger. A forlorn click met his ears. “Of course,” he snarled, ducking and beginning to reload the feed tube. Rising and aiming again, Travis slowly squeezed once more, only to miss. The knocking around had thrown the sights off! Sighing, Travis pulled his revolver and began firing out the window.

[Shifty]

Aaron followed closely behing Travis, and quickly found his Sharps. he was dismayed to find that a bullet had cut a groove in the stock, but otherwise, it was intact. He, like Travis, tried to fire it, with a quiet click in response. he opened the breech to find an empty casing. Someone shot it. He thought to himslelf, and found quickly loaded another bullet.

He set his rifle aside and pushed the desk over to make a barricade, knocking more items around than were from the sudden stop. He got some more bullets and placed his rifle on it to steady his aim. Then he took a deep breth, found a target, and pulled the trigger. Outside, one man on horseback was bucked off as Aaron's bullet knicked the horse in the side, wounding but not killing it.

He ducked down and sat behind the desk, and was trying to load another bullet when the whole world went black around him, and he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. He screamed, but couldn't hear his own voice, or anything for that matter. His vision slowly returned as adrenaline rushed through his body, and he looked to see what had hit him. There was a small pool of blood around his leg, the source being a neat hole in his calf. Another shock as a bullet hit his left shoulder. Another near black out, and he looked at the wound. Everything was trning black around him, as he dipped slowly into unconciousness. He tried to move, to do anything, but his energy was drained. He tried to speak, but all he could say was one word. "Help."

[StormWolf]

Needless to say, shit went to hell in a handbag in a short amount of time after their last stop. First the train stopped, then guns started going off. He figured some overly-bravado gangsters figured the train to be sporting some fancy cargo. If they had half a brain at all, they would realize that the prisoners in the armored car, including himself, would be worth more than any treasurey car could carry.

Alexander Steele stood before a youngin' that was hardly the proper age to be holding a gun. The baby-faced fool was easily subdued, and eventually killed, by one of the other passengers. Alex just sniffed the air before seeing one of his downed captors. Going to a knee, Alex peeled back the man's lips, spying several gold teeth amongst the yellowing real others.

The Renegade Gunslinger balled his fists up tight, his stiff knuckles cracking before they collided in to the cadaver's face again and again. The last blow knocking teeth onto the floor. Picking up one of the gold fillings, Alex jammed the root in to the key hole on his cuffs, jamming the tooth in to the key hole unil he heard a metallic snap and the cuffs loosened enough to let Alex pull his hands free.

The sound of gunfire rang out in the next car, making Alex's blue eyes narrowed, making the scar on his face twist. He stood up and walked in to the VIP car. People had either already vacated the car or were cowering in corners. Alexander found a trunk with his name on it, with the word "evidence" branded on to the side. Alex kicked the lid off of the trunk, pulling out his belts and holsters and his guns and his knives. Gunshots still rang out around him as one of his fellow prisoners fired on the riders outside the train car.

"Gorram it, would ya kindly quit that shit out?! Do ya have any idea who them boys are? The fuckin' James gang are gorram heroes. They set us free, di'n they? Alex hollared over at the ingrate shooting. Being a Confederate veteran, Alexander respected the James brothers, and he liked their unconventional approach to difficult situations. Besides, those boys might as well have set the lot of them free.

[Septimus]

“Never shall innocent blood be shed. But the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river. Thee shall spread thy blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of god.”

Captured… logically it had to happen sometime. When you went around the country claiming the lives of men, be they decent or otherwise, the law always took notice. In the beginning he had been allowed free reign, claiming the lives of robbers, murderers, and rapists. Once one of those murderers just happened to be a sheriff as well his problems began. People don’t appreciate the death of a law man no matter how sick or twisted he may be, and they disliked the killing of a town mayor even less. By the time they had caught up to the man known as ‘Priest’ among the public, they had no way of counting the number of lives he had claimed. They had not cared that each of those that fell did not deserve life in the first place.

Connor Reid sat among criminals, charged with countless acts of murder and facing the death penalty by whatever means deemed worthy of a man such as he. Chains clinked together as he shifted, jarred from complete stillness by the motion of the train. Dark hair fell before his bowed head, loose due to the fact that his hat had been taken by the Hunters. He had taken little notice of the other prisoners, preferring instead to keep his eyes closed as his lips moved in soundless prayer. The words were recited more within his thoughts than out loud, the sounds of every word escaping in a low murmur that was all together difficult to hear what with the sound of the train rolling along the tracks. He asked for guidance, direction from He who his actions served.

The train suddenly lurched, the steel wheels grinding against the iron railings hard enough to spit up sparks on the outside. The prisoners were jerked by the sudden change in trajectory, falling into one another like living dominoes as gunshots began to sound from both outside as well as within. Someone was attacking the train, providing the opportunity they all needed for an escape. Silently Connor raised a prayer of thanks to his Savior, his hand making the practiced motion of the cross before his mind turned to making the most of this new development. Already several of the prisoners had seized upon an opportunity provided by the form of a youngster who had been left to kill them. Poor boy had never had a chance against the brutal people within this armored car and what was worse even after his death the boy’s corpse was mangled by the burly fist of a brute who apparently wanted his teeth. Connor kept his feelings to himself, raising his shackled hands to comb back his hair.

A girl approached, bending low over him to pick the locks on his shackles, offering an unimpeded view of a full, round bust. Connor was perhaps the first and only one among the men who did not lick his lips in silent hunger. In fact he seemed unaffected by the lovely woman’s appearance, aloof in that it almost seemed as if he did not even notice. By the time this darkly dressed gunslinger was free and rising to stand there were already gunshots booming from the next car. Apparently those that had already been released had found weapons of their own and the fight had begun. He was calm as he strode through the doorway between cars, taking in the scene as a couple men stood on either side of a desk that had been pushed into the doorway to form a makeshift barricade. There were weapons on the ground, revolvers and rifles spilled to the floor thanks to the callus motions of those two men as well as the lurching train. A bullet zipped overhead as Connor crouched, recognizing the familiar form of one of his pistols. Both of his pistols were the same model but of different designs, one being shorter and more aptly suited for quick drawing. This one was the longer version, a powerful weapon often employed during gunfights such as this. That his favored handgun, the one decorated with a gold cross, was missing came as no surprise.

A bullet punched through the cabin wall, exploding into the wood several feet from him as Connor leaned his back against it. The gunfire was coming from the opposite side and there were several men, one of which being the same man who had punched out the boys teeth, returning fire. Another shot hit the wall he stood again, closer this time and even as he took round after round and loaded them into the chamber of the revolver shot after shot struck that wall, each one coming progressively closer than the last. He finished loading and snapped the chamber in place, turning away from his position just as a bullet struck where his heart had been a moment before. Someone shouted for people to stop, declaring the people outside their heroes but Connor was not sure he agreed. Those supposed ‘heroes’ had ordered one of their own to kill them all, after all.

[Anne Bonny]

I shoulda hung myself in the jail cell, Maggie McKenna thought to herself as she sat in the darkness of the Southern Daisy's prision car. The carriage was uncomfortable and smelled of pungent sweat. A gloom seemed settled about the area, the feeling of quiet defeat was nearly tangable, making the dim lighting seem even darker. What a miserable ride.

It wasn't that she hadn't though of killing herself during her night alone in the holding cell before being put on the train. But a sherrif leaves little in the form of weapons to knock oneself off within easy reach of a prisioner. Maggie had thought of trying to bribe the deputy for some rope, but in the end had decided against it. The mayor's mistress bribes a man of the law with sexual favors in order to get a length of rope to hang herself, that would have been fitting, wouldn't it?

Instead, Maggie and the other prisioners were loaded into an empty boxcar like cattle off to slaughter. So she sad quietly on the floor, not bothering to straighten her dress that was rumpled up and exposing half of her left leg, resigned to her grim fate as a criminal. Off to the hangman's noose at the tender age of twenty years.

The James Gang had been a surprise, to say the least, but fortunately for Maggie some of her companions didn't hesitate in their shock. Before she knew it, another woman was unlocking her chains and Maggie was on her feet. She murmered a "thank you" to the other girl and paused to gingerly rub her wrists and ankles where the irons had bitten into her skin.

No time to waste on self pity, however. Gunfire was all around, and the other criminals on board were already taking up arms. The blond girl followed the others to the next car, pausing only to scoop up a revolver that had spilled onto the floor. Wide blue eyes looked frantically around before checking the barrel for bullets. Only two gone, she breathed in relief before snapping it back into place.

Maggie took up her position behind one of the other men, someone shouting to stop shooting at the heroes. Heroes? Maggie thought to herself. That's a little different than what the wanted posters said. But then again, who was she to judge?

Instead, she pointed to a slumped over figure that had taken cover behind an overturned desk. "Your heroes shot one of our own," Maggie said with a twinge of sarcasm. "Is this every man for himself, or should we try to help the poor devil? He's bleedin' all over the floor!"

[Higurashi]

Andrew continued firing on the James gang, scoring a hit on another of the bandits, knocking him of his horse. He was about to fire again when one of the other prisoners started shouting at him. What he said confused Andrew. How could the James gang be good? They had been inteding to kill them, and they obviously hadn't been there for the prisoners in the first place. Andrew shook the thought of and fired again, finishing off the one he had knocked from the horse.

As more of his fellow prisoners joined him, Andrew was able to back off the fire for a moment, to search for his guns. The rifle was his. Andrew had inherited it from his father, and it was special to him. As bullets whizzed overhead, Andrew scrabbled around the cabin, frantically searching. He finally found it underneath a turned over chair. He opened the lading mechanism, seeing it was empty. He quickly searched around again and found his pouch of rifle bullets.

He was about to rejoin the fight when yet another of his fellows came into the cabin, a pretty blond. She was the first to notice one of the other prisoners bleeding out from the calf. Andrew hesitated, then crouch and shuffled over to the man. Upon even a glance, it was clear that the bullet had penetrated nearly halfway into the man's leg, shedding fragments as it went.

Andrew looked around for something to bandage the wound with, and found several large clothes, presumably from a table. He ripped one of these up and wrapped it around the man's leg, pulling it tight. From his farm days he had a rudimentary knowledge of how to fix broken bones, and how to deal with wounds. Animals didn't survive long if you didn't know about that. He took another strip and tied it really tight arounf the man lower knee, to stem the blood flow.

After he did this, he dragged over another table, placing it inbetween th side of the carriage and the man. Andrew figured there was less likelyhood of bullets getting in through two layers of wood. He then began firing back at the James gang again. Most of them were dead already, but Andrew had no doubt that there would be more.

[Maple]

Hidden in the corner, face buried amidst a tight knot of shackled limbs, sat Fang the Chinese Killer - a man whose very name inspired hatred and fear. Little did the other passengers, many of them notorious criminals in their own right, know that Fang wasn't much of a killer; nor could they have suspected that she wasn't much of a man.

The sudden stop jolted her to attention, and her small body unraveled, dark eyes squinting in the dimly lit cabin. The scene that unfolded hardly seemed to register, and she watched the brief struggle between the prisoner and his would-be killer with seeming disinterest. Even when a woman bent to unlock her chains, Fang's expression was unchanged. She couldn't fathom why any of this would be happening; it simply didn't make sense to her, and she figured this must all be an absurd daydream.

That's why she didn't budge for awhile, even while the other prisoners made for the VIP car. Her dark clothing and smudged face helped her blend in with the scenery, and no one seemed to notice the filthy Chinaman in the corner.

Fang felt vindicated in her decision to stay behind when she heard gunfire. She was protected inside the armored car, and so she remained, though her curiosity could not be denied; she crept up to the open door and poked her head out like a prairie dog, silently evaluating the situation. She saw no reason to join the fray; better to wait out the crossfire within the safe confines of this portable prison, and sneak away at the soonest opportunity...

[roan]

To the other fettered bodies within the dark and dank compartment Jocelyn would appear a brutal sight. Her already full lips were swollen, the bottom slip at the middle. Dry blood crusting on her chin and down her dark throat where the wound had bleed. Her left eye was bruised, the yellowish color noting that the blow was received a few days previous. The slumped body of the woman was filthy with dirt and dust, sweat streaking the pollution and giving her mocha hued skin a diseased look.

Her clothes were respectively rags. The loose men’s pants she wore looked to be ancient, extremely thin and dingy. To Jo they were cool and comfortable, something sought after under the blazing sun she once labored under at her farm. That place was long gone by now she thought, letting those around think she sleeping. dare not open her eyes, fearing only the ridicule that from childhood was expected. Most men and women took her, just by appearance alone, as a filthy tramp. An ugly mix-blooded girl with no education or common sense. A heathen; the dirtied French spoken in Louisiana by slaves and white folk alike called people like Jocelyn creole or mulatto. The long war was finally over and previous slaves were slowly being let into normal society and slowly adapting to the “white man’s world.” But never did Jocelyn think the hate would end, the idiotic racism.




_ _ _



Gun shots pierced the rhythmic swaying and squeaking of the cabin. This time the battered girl opened her pale gray eyes, her vision a little hazy but taking in the situation with a calm revere. She stayed quiet, doubting her dry tongue and lips could even produce words if needed. Drawing in her long slender legs towards her chest, as best she could comfortably given the chains, the mulatto young woman stayed in the same position, praying with those light colored eyes closed tight, hoping that a stay bullet didn’t pierce her hide.

After a few tense moments the gunshots stopped and others within the cart began to shuffle about and converse. A young harlot with elegant features pulled a pin from her blonde hair and began working on her locks. Once free she gave one pin to an older man that looked like he was rather sure of himself.

She had no weapon; no knife of any find or even a rock in her pockets. With not having the power to speak or concentrate only really anything for too long before her eyes began to ache and burn. Jo could not be sure but with trembling hands felt a cleanly broken scalp. Blood and dirt had stopped the blood flow after a spell while the back of her once chocolate brown hair now was caked in dried blood.

Those men must have really had to hit her hard to finally seize the thrashing, teeth-gnashing heathen woman.

[StormWolf]

Alexander leaned against the wall of the VIP carriage, not even flinching as bullet holes appeared inches from his head. He seemed too preoccupied twirling one of his revolvers while humming 'Dixie land' to himself. Out of all of the people there, he appeared quite at ease, and quite relaxed. Hell, he even seemed to be at home.

In reality, Alexander was calculating the situation. I would only be a matter of time before the some knobhead got the train going again or some lawman stumbles upon the riff-raff and decides to start shooting as well. Right now, the best course of action was to get the fuck out of dodge while the getting was still good. The Gunslinger gave his gun one more twirl before holstering his revolver.

"Well, I dunno about y'all, but I 'aint gonna stick 'round for this train to start runnin' again or for some ruttin' lawman to come along." he looked over to the gunman firing at the James gang. Lord in heaven, who taught that man how to shoot? Just watching him waste that lead made Alex want to wretch. Sure, he got a graze, but that bullet could have easily been a kill if the man pulled his head out of his ass.

Alexander just shook his head and kicked open a closet, finding his hat and duster coat with his gloves in his pocket. Behind his coat was his pride and joy: his scatter gun and eight shells. After putting gaining the rest of his belongings and properly affixing them, Alexander returned to the rest of his fellow convicts.

"Anyone else fancy gettin' outta here, or are y'all happy enough right here?"

[TwinDeath]

Jocelyn's section written by roan
Heroes? thought Travis incredulously. They specifically said to kill us! Still, he holstered his pistol, turning to the man on the floor. “Anyone else fancy gettin' outta here, or are y'all happy enough right here?" asked a surprisingly calm man.

“’M all for a move,” muttered Travis, checking the injury of the man on the floor. The larger bearded man had done a good job with the tourniquet, so Travis slid back into the armored car for shelter. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom , he noticed that some people had barely moved since they were freed, including a young woman who looked like –

Flash. Bright, gleeful eyes glinted at him as he whirled his daughter around and around. “Faster daddy faster!” The squeals issued from the mouth of his six year old daughter.

Flash. the sun was setting, and he was watching it together with his family, Elisabeth already asleep on his lap as he finished telling her of her grandfather’s adventures fishing, and how the gators got every fish he ever caught.

Flash. Hooves beat the earth, the horse’s powerful muscles carrying their riders forward. Elisabeth’s laughter echoed wildly, and Travis smiled as his daughter pulled ahead of him in their race to get home. She was only fifteen, and already a better rider than he.

Flash. His wife and daughter wave as he leaves for war, already older than even his commanding officer but still the best shot in the unit.

Flash. A blackened pit, where his house should be. Where his home should be.

Flash. Dead eyes, staring forever at him, asking him why, why, why, why…

****

More and more gun fire cut through the air. Stray bullets splitting wood and dinged against metal. More and more passengers from the cart began to rise and leave giving Jocelyn a bit of morale as her head began to stop throbbing, her eyes beginning to see clearly.

Through the haze of gun smoke filtering in and out of the cart an elder white man caught her attention. Rather, she caught his. His stance was rigid, coming to a complete stop as his old weathered feature’s came to rest on Jocelyn in her battered state. The white-haired man held something in his eyes, softening a if a gentle thought crossed his mind.

“How-,” Parched lips and a sandy throat caused the dark-skinned girl’s voice to croak as she tried to speak. Licking her lips she tried again to make speech. This man was different in some way, something about him made Jocelyn feel somewhat calm within the whirlwind she and the other passengers on the train were experiencing.

“How do we,” a violent cough caught her mid-sentence but she recovered after smearing blood produced from the hack with her wrist across her plush mouth, “get out?”

Moving gave life too all the bruises. Bone and muscle screaming for her to be still but it was no longer an option. She had to get out; wherever they were she’d survive. Her native husband hadn’t been the most affectionate loving man but he’d shown her all the ways of the land and how to make due with what the mother earth has given you.

It was so hard for her to trust anyone but this man… seemed unlike anyone she’d come into contact with for years. He looked like he wanted to help where most would spit at her and laugh.

****

“How do we get out,” croaked Liss – no, the woman who looked like so painfully much like Elisabeth. Not her. She’s dead. You buried her. Travis shook himself.

“You wait there. Move slow, take it easy.” Travis turned and slid back into the VIP carriage. A few minutes’ searching came up with a canteen and, joy of joys, his knives. “Missed you, ladies,” murmured Travis, kissing each blade before secreting them about his person. Grabbing an ammo belt, he slipped back to the armored carriage.

“Here,” whispered Travis as he uncorked the canteen, “drink.” He held the bottle to Jocelyn’s lips, tilting it slowly and carefully. Eagerly, she sucked down the water, and he was there with a cloth as she choked slightly. “Come on Liss,” grunted Travis as he helped her up. “Time to git.” Supporting her, he stepped into the shadow of the doorway, looking for a way out of the situation.

[Shifty]

Aaron slowly became concious as his ounds were being tended. It started quiet, as if he were a mile away from the battle.His ears were ringing slightly, and the gunshots were just little pops around him, and he could here people talking, but couldn't make out words. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up. It seemed as though everyone was in the VIP carriage. He looked at his leg and saw a makeshift bandage, already soaked with blood. His blood.

His ears began to stop ringing, and the roar of the battle began to come back. It was almost deafening. at least a dozen firearms were firing at a time, and he could hear wood splintering and bullets hitting metal all around him. His rifle was lying next to him, the chamber open as it was when he was shot and ropped it. He grabbed it and, with a shaky hand, tried to load a bullet. He dropped it and it fell to the floor and rolled away. He took a deep breath and tred to relax.

"Anyone else fancy gettin' outta here, or are y'all happy enough right here?" A man said. A southerner it sounded like. He made a good point. The sooner they could leave, the better off they would be. Even so, he was almost about to lose consiousness again from blood loss. He tightened the bandage around his leg, which sent a searing pain through it, which almost made his black out again. He hoped that would stem the flow a bit more. Then he tried to rise. He used his rifle as a sort of walking stick, and stayed low as to avoid more gunfire.

"I agree with that." He said, his voice just a bit shaky. "The sooner we can, the better chances we have of survivin'. But how do you propose we do that, sir?" He moved, or rather hobbled, around the car as quickly as he could, gathering everything he could find that he owned. He found all of his gear, and put his rifle into a special holder on his rucksack, which was also his tool-kit. He also grabbed an extra repeater, deciding to use that instead of his single shot Sharps.

He looked around for the quickest way out. Going through a window wasn't the best idea, but going out the door would mean being in the open, and probobly mean being shot. Still, that seemed like the quickest way out, and they could make it, if people covered them as they exited the car. A bullet broke through the wood right next to his head. He finally noticed that the amount of fire coming into the car was now a great deal less than the fire going out of the car. He decded to help, and finally got back to firing. Every one of them dead increases their chances of surviving.

[Maple]

Fang swooped back into the shadows as an older man returned to the prison car. She watched invisibly as he came to the aid of a battered young woman. Their captors had scarcely harmed Fang herself, but if she hadn't been thought a man, she knew things would be different. She may well be in that woman's condition. So why, now, was this strange man treating her so kindly? Fang had never seen such benevolence, not since...

"I think you would be better off staying put for now." Fang stepped from the shadows and revealed herself, staring poker-faced at the old man. Her voice, gruff and masculine, came threaded with only a slight Chinese accent. "Wait until those fools finish killing each other, then make your escape." Her steady gaze, undisturbed by gunfire, settled on the young woman, to whom she remarked, "You're in no shape to be dodging bullets."

[L]

The battle swirled around The Southern Daisy as the group in the VIP Carriage traded shots with the James Gang on the Western Side of the train.

On the Eastern side of The Southern Daisy, Henry and his group of Hunters took cover behind a small hill, watching the train and the James Gang trade fire.

'Gawdfuckingdamnit' Henry spat on the ground. One of the James Gang had worked his way around to the eastern side of the train and was about to enter the back of the VIP, most likely taking the prisoners by surprise.

Not thinking, The Hunter raised the stolen handgun and shot the gang member, the bullet hitting him in the chest as he rode towards the train.

The man spun on his saddle and fell, landing heavily on his butt. The James man screamed in pain.

'Good shot Boss,' one of The Hunters, the youngest, Brian, spoke. He rose above the hill to see the felled James Gang member.

That was his last sight as the man – bleeding from the chest, raised his rifle and shot.

Brian slumped to the ground. The lucky bullet had gone through his right eye, killing the young Hunter instantly.

Face turning red and screaming in fury, Henry fired every shot in to the James Gang member, then when the bullets were gone, flung the gun with the gold cross at the dead man.

He slumped down next to Brian, breathing heavily.

'Fool, you fool' He looked around at his crew. He shook his head, then looked around.

'You,' he hit one of his men on their chest, 'Take Brian's body, head for Chicago and tell Mr Pinkerton what's happened. We're going to need back-up'

The stern faced man nodded and moved to recover Brian's body to take back to Chicago.

Henry turned to his 2nd in Command, Jonah.

'I want them. All of them - alive. I want to take my time killing each and every one of them slowly and painfully. Go through the front of the train, stop them from restarting it. I'll go through the back'


-

'Stop firin' you fools!,' Jesse James wheeled his horse, fired a shot at the VIP Carriage, 'There's no treasure in thar, so stop yur firin' and get movin'! We're headed for Texas!'

Jesse's brother rode up beside him as the others started to move their horses away from the train, firing as they retreated. Frank fired towards the train himself to keep the occupants cautious.

'What about 'dem Jesse?' Frank nodded towards the partially visible body of the boy in the armored carriage, as well as 2 gang members laying on the ground in their own blood, their horses milling around aimlessly.

'Forget em – We ain't got no time, we needs to get goin' from the Hunters, and there's treasure in Texas to be had'

Letting off a final salvo each – the rest of the gang having fled far out of range, Jesse and Frank James wheeled their horses and kicked them in to a full gallop west – towards Texas.

[Septimus]

The battle raged and still Connor had not fired a single shot from the pistol he had managed to secure. Bullets zinged overhead, passing close to his ear and exploding into either the far wall or the flesh of some unfortunate fool who found himself in the way. While the other criminals he had been chained with argued amongst themselves over whether or not they should fire at the gang of cut throats and thieves or not he moved resolutely through the cabin, at times barely passing through a space before a series of bullets cut the air where his body had once been. He moved to the far end of the cabin, the doorway that lead out to the eastern side where the James Gang was not present. The absence of his pistol troubled the man, bringing a light frown upon his brow. That pistol had been specifically designed for him, built to his every specification and the gold cross that adorned both sides of the handle had been a spendy addition as well. Were it to be used by a nonbeliever… would the faith that bound it still hold true?

Opening the door the man known as Priest peered out on the eastern side just in time to hear the familiar crack of a pistol shot and witness the fall of a man form his horse. Between cars there was an open space, the cuplinks that locked the two cars together open and easily within view. With the train unmoving it was easy to leap across that slight distance to place his back against the car opposite the door of the VIP car where the rest of those he had been journeying with still remained. The man who had been shot from his horse fired a shot and five more quickly followed, the majority of them kicking up dust as the bullets strayed too high or too wide. However it was what followed the truly interested Connor as he stood pressed to the outside of that car. As a gun tumbled through the grass he caught the familiar glint o gold on the handle. The Lord had delivered his servants weapon back to him, it seemed.

Creeping to the edge of the wall he peeked out in time to spot a single man with a corpse dangling over either side of his saddle trotting away atop a horse. His sharp ears caught the sound of a voice, the murmur of distant conversation but where were they? Behind that far hill where the rider had appeared from? The now dead member of the Jame’s gang had been riding a horse and the well trained animal yet remained where it had stood when the man was shot from the saddle. So it seemed God had granted him both his pistol as well as an escape from this hellish confrontation. But what of the rest of the hunters? It wouldn’t do to go to the horse only to be shot off it much like the previous owner… he had to ensure he did not act rashly. Yet peering out around the car did not reveal any movement. Perhaps he could make his escape after all.

His gaze centered upon the horse, its ears flicking this was and that as it shifted restlessly. Quietly he called to I, clicking his tongue in an effort to gain its attention. It proved to be a well trained animal indeed for at spotting the man it shambled over, pausing only to gather a bit of grass from beside the tracks into its hungry mouth. It was only when the horse was nearly to him that he leapt from cover, recovering his pistol and holstering it with the smooth motion of a practiced gun hand. He leapt astride the horse then, gathering up the reins in one hand as the other crossed over his chest in a prayer of silent thanks to the Lord for these gifts. By the sound of it the James Gang was clearing out, leaving the survivors in the cabin to their devices. Should he travel with them or go it alone? ‘Twas a question he would soon need to answer.

[Higurashi]

Andrew watched as the James gang left the scene. He wouldn't have been against this if they hadn't been heading south. From what they said, they could only be heading in one direction, Texas. Andrew really didn't care about the gold at this point, but he wanted revenge on that Johnson man. More than likely, the James gang was going to be looking for the man, and more than likely they would find him. Andrew was going to kill that man, no matter what it took.

He saw one of the others leading a horse over. After considering this, Andrew decided it was a good idea. He crept out of the carriage, and walked over to the frightened horses. He made soft sounds to calm them. This didn't work, and he couldn't get near them. Andrew gave up and went to go search for his lasso. It was hand made by him and his father. He found it in a closet and walked back out to the horses. They shied away from him, but he managed to lasso one around the neck.

Using his strength, Andrew hauled himself over to the horse when it tried to pull away. He clambered up onto it and secured himself into the saddle. He could see the James gang riding off into the distance from the top of the horse. Making cooing noises into the horses ear, Andrew finally managed to calm it down. Looking over into the saddle bags, he could see ample provisions, including canteens of water, dried beef, a pack of cards, and more ammo for the guns.

Looking around Andrew noticed what appeared to be an armed man of the cloth. He had seen him in the carriage, and now that he thought about it, the man hadn't fired a single shot at the James gang. He rode over to him, making sure to stay in full view. "Hiya sar." He said in his 'country drawl'. "I wasa wunderan if yee'd like teh ride with me."

[Crow]

Laura awoke from her daze, had she... blacked out in all this? she then rose to her feet and dusted herself off. She took a look around the cabin and saw the westerner she gave her hairpin to on a horse talking to a native man, she walked cautiously closer before slipping her gun back into her bustle. She put back in her earring and slowly stepped out of the cabin and walked towards one of the scared horses. She stood her ground even though she was scared and tried to show the horse that she didn't mean it harm, she gently pet the mare's head and smiled for it as she slowly climbed up onto it and put one leg on each side (Very unlady-like) revealing a bit of her bloomers "If you are going, then I'm going with you...." she said as she then looked up and over to the westerner.

[Anne Bonny]

After the gunfire ceased, an eerie silence penetrated the train. Save the shuffle of a footstep here and there and the whisper of a breeze from outside, there wasn't anything to be heard at all. It gave Maggie an uneasy feeling.

The girl crept after one of the men that had been a fellow prisioner into the next car. She watched in silence as he exited the train alnd called a rideress horse over. A few bodies littered the landscape here and there. Maggie felt her stomach twist into a knot. The others she was traveling with had certainly been good shots. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of crimes earned them a place on this train. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Maggie scolded herself. While far from innocent, Maggie hadn't actually committed the crime she had been imprisioned for. Maybe it was the same with her companions?

Maggie snorted to herself. It wasn't like she was about to get close enough to them to find out.

But then another man found a horse, and one of the women did too. And suddenly Maggie realized that an exit from this hellbound train was the best option, and she had no idea where to go from here alone. A quick look around revealed that there were far from enough horses for each prisioner, as many of the steeds had been frightened off by the gunfight.

With a small hop Maggie moved from the train to the ground, a small cloud of dust rising from beneath her boots. "I can't catch a horse," she said to no one in particular, "but I do know how to ride if someone will let me hitch along for a while."