RISE UP DEAD MAN

BULLETGRUBBER

...Nothing a sledgehammer wouldn't fix, although I certainly doubt a sledgehammer would douse an entire village of its flames.

After walking with Ferrok and Gilliean for a while, we eventually arrive at a convoy of... well, those certainly don't look like horse-pulled carriages. Several enormous, dark, angular, and thick chassis sat atop surprisingly small and thick wheels. Some were long and had multiple sets of wheels, while others were shorter and had only four. They were heavily armoured, and the four-wheeled versions even had windows.

...These sort of remind me of, uh... train cars, except not only were they far shorter, but there were no rails or a steam train to pull them along. Just what made these vehicles run that allowed them to carry so much metal?

Actually, hold on a moment... Is it me, or do the larger, longer vehicles resemble... Those motor trucks I read about? They look uncannily similar, as the ones in the newspaper said something about these trucks being a brand-new invention—not even that, they were an idea.

Then again, I cannot forget the fact that I'm not even in my world anymore.

Who knows? For all I know, these vehicles could run on rocks or minerals or—

Something lands in the small of my back— "Hey beastboy, have you ever, uh, been in a scrap with another beastboy before?"

"Wha- Jesus!" I instinctively reach for my revolver, my hand firmly lands on the grip, fingers curled tight. I spun around as fast as my body allowed, only to come face to face with Gilliean's grin, which was wide enough for me to see a pair of canines that resembled fangs.

A sigh of relief is breathed out of my lungs as my hand holsters the revolver and parts from it. The same hand also pushes Gilliean's face out of mine. How the hell did he get so close without me even realising? I swear, if I were a White Shirt, I would've tried to fan six shots right into his stomach only to miss all of them.

"Wahah!" Gilliean nearly falls back onto his ass, but he manages to stabilise himself before it happens. "Hehe, you beastboys are a jumpy and paranoid bunch aren't you?" That term again. Ferrok referred to me as a "beastboy" before and it honestly sounds really close to "cowboy"...

I ain't a damn saddle warmer!

"Listen, I don't know a damn thing you're talking about, but are you looking for trouble?" My hand lands back on my revolver, and my eyes harden into a glare for added emphasis. He seems young enough, so I hope that intimidating him will deter him from any future situations like this.

...

"Wow, you looked real cool and dangerous for a second right there! Aww damn! I really wish my PDA wasn't broken so I could snap a photo of that..."

...You've got to be kidding me.

As I was thinking of a different method, Gilliean suddenly seemed to glow—his expression, I mean. I might accept the fact that I'm now in another world, but people turning into a radiant light show might just be a bit too out there.

"Yooo, rest of the gang's here!"

Gilliean swiftly rushed past me towards a decently sized group of hooded figures, many of them carrying crates. I nearly went to ask Ferrok who they were, but then I remembered that they were the rest of Ferrok's band returning from razing a village to its foundation of flaming embers, ashes, and the charred remains of its residents.

A few waves and greetings were sent Gilliean's way, to which he responded in kind, but there was one noticeable exchange that caught my eye.

"Oh hey! Howya doin' Gilliean?" Oh god, another accent that I could barely understand. The voice was female, and her demeanour reminded me of one of the hunters who frequented the pubs and taverns. The hooded woman knelt down and pulled Gilliean's far smaller body toward her with only one arm, whilst her other clutched some kind of bottle. The spear on her back was the only other visually striking aspect of her silhouette.