"Whatever happened to respect a man in his own home?" Baux huffed as he was shoved out of his billiards room by Colt. "You come into my parlor, arrest me in the middle of my game, but worst of all, ya killed Rich," he looked back at Colt with confusion in his eyes, "why'd ya kill Rich?"
"Eh, wrong place wrong time," he shrugged. "But don't you worry about your little buddy Rich, I'm sure you're gonna make a whole bunch of friends in the Dusty Max Prison." Baux groaned in frustration as Colt led him back into the main parlor. "Now chin up tough guy, wouldn't want all your adoring fans to see ya-" he was cut off as a trashcan smashed against the wall beside him, "down in the dumps?"
Colt looked over the ledge where the guardrail once stood before his little stunt with the guard a moment ago. He looked down at the commotion that grew wilder with each second. What he saw could only be described as carnage. Large men were throwing the lighter bodies around the floor like a paperweight in the wind. Women were having their fair share of fun by swinging the heels of their shoes at anyone who got too close. The robotic bartenders just seemed to dodge and watch the mayhem unfold. He looked to the far right corner and saw a woman sitting peacefully sipping on a drink and watching the raucous rumble with a quaint smile on her face. A man came running towards her with a broken bottle in his hands growling like a wild animal. The woman didn't flinch she just picked up a pink umbrella beside her and knocked the glass out of his hand with ease. She then smiled and slammed her umbrella down on his head, knocking the brute out cold.
'Damn, she didn't even spill her drink,' Colt thought with a chuckle. He pushed Baux down the stairs as he kept a tight grip on his wrists. "Yo, Tyler, where ya at little buddy?" A man crawled up to Colt's feet groveling in pain.
"Call off ya little freak," he wheezed out. Suddenly all the air in his lungs came out in one large puff as a young boy jumped down from the rafters on his back.
"Right here, Mr. Domire!" the young plucky blonde kid responded with an aloof British accent.
"Tyler, the hell happened here?" Colt asked surveying the disorder purveying the parlor.
"Oh well ya see, Mr. Domire, we were all drinking and laughing and dancing but then this guy," he bopped the man on the head to signify the culprit, "decided to start throwing insults my way. Of course, I kept my cool but then I saw men come running from upstairs followed by ya gunshots. Then that one fat man came falling from upstairs so I figured you had decided to start a fight, so I tracked down this bastard and had some fun. Guess everyone saw the fun I was having an' joined in." Tyler heard the man beneath him start to shift so he dropped his foot on his neck with malicious force, "Oi you wanna tell Mr. Domire what ya said?"
"Go Fuck ya self ya shrimp dick little - gah my fucking arm!" the grunt yelled as Tyler bent it back like he was ripping the wing off a chicken during Thanksgiving Dinner. He pulled on the man's ear eliciting another shout of pain from the punk.
"Hey tall, dark dumbass," Tyler growled to Baux, "Tell me ugly, what happens when 8 pounds of force is applied to the human ear?"
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Baux leered at the boy before Colt whacked him over the head again with his revolver, "Umm rips it right off I guess?"
"Damn straight!" he looked back down to the guy he was currently straddling, "now tell me fugly, ya wanna help me with a little science experiment?"
"Okay, you win!" he looked up at Colt and sighed with annoyance, "I said-"
"Tyler let him go," Colt sighed looking down at the poor guy that Tyler had been abusing. "Look I'm sorry about him he gets really excited when fights break out. Tyler, what did I tell ya to do in bar fights?"
Tyler looked defeated while Colt scolded him, "Don't pick on the one guy that talks shit to you, ass whoopings are for everybody."
"That's right, now let him go." Colt looked down on Tyler with a disappointed frown. Tyler reluctantly let go of the man's ear and loosened his pressure on his arm. "Come on Tyler give the guy a break. He couldn't have said something that bad."
"He said I looked like the Morton salt girl's little bitch."
Colt didn't respond, all the emotion on his face went stale as he processed the insult that Tyler just repeated. He had to admit the boy did look like a pushover. His bowl cut and buck teeth deceiving even the smartest of attackers that forgot to look at the sculpted figure the boy sported under his goofy blouse and sweet demeanor. Colt looked down to Baux and saw him slowly smiling to himself, Colt made the strategic decision to walk away.
"What just happened?" the man asked as he saw Colt disappear into the crowd.
Tyler turned back around and grabbed ahold of the man's ear once more, smiling sadistically at him. "What just happened," he said putting more leverage on the man's arm and pulling progressively harder on his ear, "was consensual silence."
"No. NOOOOO!" Colt couldn't see what was happening behind him, but Baux saw a crowd of people circling the bottom of the stairwell shouting and chanting "Break Him! Break Him!"
Colt continued to make his way through the crowd now less focused on the people around him and more focused on the task at hand. Getting Baux back to the car so he could make his way out of here before things got any hairier. Baux looked frantically for an escape and saw his opportunity at the nearby bartender robot. "Hey barkeep, another round right here," he called out. The robot looked over, his singular eye changed to what seemed like a smile as he tossed a drink in the air for Baux to catch.
Baux pulled back on Colt's shirt yanking him in front of the flying drink and shattering it against his head. "What the hell!?" Colt shouted as his vision was obscured by the distilled liquids in his eyes. "Barkeep the hell?!"
"My bad," the robot responded in a modulated British tone to match Tyler's own. Colt looked over himself feeling the liquid seep into his clothes and starting to make his skin flare with painful heat.
"Hey barkeep what is up with this drink?" Colt asked as the pain was starting to get unbearable.
"It's quadruple distilled just like Mr. Baux likes it, though he never drinks it when I toss one to him. He just hits someone with it every time."
"Baux," Colt looked back and realized that Baux had slipped from his grasps during the distraction. He looked through the sea of heads for one oily black scalp with a desperation to get out of the raging brawl. He spotted his perp making his way to the front door and looking back with a smug grin on his face. "Somebody stop that scum bag!" Colt shouted, but his call for help fell on deaf ears as the fighters were too invested in their own brawls.
Colt dashed after Baux in hopes of at least shooting him down as he attempted to escape down the road. He saw the small blonde figure of Tyler jumping on the heads of the crowd to catch up to Baux. "I'll get him Mr. Domire," he called as he disappeared out the door as well.
Colt finally caught up and busted out the door guns drawn as he looked down the road for the man and boy running in the distance. Instead, he saw nothing on the roads. The outside was quiet as a mouse, except for the sound of staggered breaths and grunts of pain. He looked down and saw the curled forms of Baux and Tyler alike as they shuddered in agony.
"Ha it works, I knew my baby would work."
Colt looked off to the side towards the location of the voice. In front of him was a young girl with red pigtails, an old beat-up junker uniform, and goggles adorning her beige cap. She was clutching what looked like an overloaded magnet radiating an electric charge from its tips. She rocked back and forth with her eyes close humming to herself with glee. She opened them to see her handy work and lost her gleeful expression when she saw the look on Colt's face.
Disbelief is a word to describe the look on his face. One could also say flabbergasted, but currently, he felt frustrated. "You?"
The girl quickly gathered her thoughts for a response, "Now I know what your thinking."
"You followed me?"
"No!"
"Why are you here then?"
The girl paused as she thought over her response, "I was just going out for a walk," she lied through her teeth.
"A walk? In the middle of the night? A mile away from the scrapyard?"
"Yep."
Tyler slowly started to relax as he looked up from his fettle position to look at the cute girl in front of him. "H-Hey Jessie."
"Hey Tyler," she responded dismissingly.
"You look... really cute?"
"Shut up Tyler," she sighed. Tyler just frowned and laid back down on the dirt.
"Woof tough cookie that one huh," Baux groaned. Tyler just nodded solemnly.
Colt snapped his fingers gaining her attention again, "Does mom know where you are?"
"Please don't tell mom I want to help you with your operation, please," she begged Colt. "Plus look, I caught the bad guy for ya."
"You also knocked out Tyler," he quickly responded. "We had it covered, Tyler was about to take the creep down for me."
"Yeah I had 'em," Tyler chimed in.
"Shut up Tyler," Colt and Jessie begrudgingly said in unison. "I cannot believe you would do something so reckless," Colt continued. "I told you, you're not old enough to be going on these missions yet."
Jessie scoffed at the ridiculous statement, "Not old enough?! Oh, that's malarky and you know it. Tyler is younger than me but you let him go on jobs with you."
"Okay first off Tyler has trained under me for 5 years now and his body and mind... well mostly his body can keep up with the intensity of these missions. Second, he isn't even that much younger than you."
"Yeah, I'm only a few months younger than ya."
"SHUT UP TYLER!" they shouted down at him. Tyler just laid down in the dirt a tear forming in his eye.
"Ya know," Baux started but Tyler quickly jabbed him in the nose shutting him up.
"Come on big bro let me at least show ya how the gun works."
"No."
"Just one demonstration," she opened the door to the pub grinning ecstatically. The brawl was still going in full force as a crowd of bystanders watched as two men fought on the slippery beer covered wood flooring. "Oh, this is gonna be an awesome demonstration." She charged up a shot and let loose an electric ball into the crowd. Colt watched as the ball seemed to bounce from one body to the other. "It seeks out the strongest electromagnetic potential near its first target and aims for the spot it initially senses the conductivity at," she explained proudly. Colt saw the ball about to hit the lady with the tea and umbrella but then pulled a man up from the floor with her handle and threw him at the ball redirecting its path.
The ball continued to travel in a straight line as some bystanders were able to jump out of the electric ball's dangerous path. "I couldn't figure out how to make it seek the target after initial detection but I think it will be a great asset in a hoard of enemies. Or on unsuspecting idiots," Jessie quickly chimed in. "It will also lose its strength if it doesn't come in contact with another source of energy or an object without any electromagnetic potential."
The energy ball made its way to the barkeep, the robot narrowly dodged it letting it disappear in the wall. "Hey!" the barkeep shouted pointing to a sign, "No weapons in the bar," he yelled hurling another bottle at Colt and Jessie. This time narrowly missing and flying into the street. The puddle the drink made seemed to ooze and steam as it pooled on the ground.
Colt had officially seen enough, he threw his hands up and stormed off behind the pub. "Oh come on, admit that was pretty cool right, bro-bro?" Jessie teased.
"I-" Tyler started before Baux grabbed his arm shaking his head slowly.
"Some other time big guy," he whispered softly.
Colt pulled out front in his police cruiser with a sour expression on his face. "Tyler, you and Baux sit in the back. He tries anything sneaky you have permission to dislocate one limb and one limb only, are we clear?"
"Crystal," he smiled a toothy grin to Baux who just gulped in fear.
"You," Colt pointed to his little sister, "Front seat, now," Jessie grumbled to herself as she reluctantly entered the cruiser and prepared for the speech she was gonna get on the way back home.
~------------------------------------------------------~
The Greater Sand Dunes is not the best place to live, it was hellacious to fight the heat those golden mounds produced. The night was no better, the sun left and it seemed as though winter took the ground chilling all walking at night from the bottom up. There were few homes built in the Greater Sand Dunes, any homes found would either be amongst a small town or lonely in the middle of miles of sand. One home was a small single-story cottage located in the center of nowhere in the Greater Sand Dunes. The home was not luxurious nor even pretty but it had the rusty charm that a vintage car would give off at a car show. The age was the beauty as a large woman worked outside the cottage washing clothing on an old washboard.
The house was not truly abandoned on the outskirts of the Dunes. Right beside the home was a road that led to the Robotown, Retropolis, and the luscious city of Niagra. Sometimes she would travel into the cities, enjoying the bright lights, participating in the events, but mostly so she could get to her job in the junkyards. She loved working in the junkyards, building new robots with the parts that people throw away. Sometimes finding neat trinkets that people with more money than they can handle would toss in the trash. 'One man's trash is a junker's guilty pleasure,' she would happily tell her daughter.
Working on the junkyard with her daughter gave her such glee. If only her son would find as much love for scrapping as her; everything would be perfect. 'But no, he had to become some big-city cop,' she angrily commented in her head. She got up from her stool and dumped the water from her bucket into the dirt beneath her. The sand below absorbed the water like a sponge taking to water. It was pleasing. that small wet spot in the sand. It would have evaporated in an instance if the sun were up but tonight was so calm and serene. She looked into the distance and saw the full moon in the sky, shining a bright white light over the empty expanse of land. She could faintly see the lights of the city on the horizon and thought of her son.
"Colton, sweetheart, I know you're not gonna get hurt. But your sister thinks she gave me the slip today at work, so please protect her before she gets hurt." She looked out hoping that her words would reach him wherever they were currently. As she headed inside she looked at her pristine little kitchen and took in the aromas. The smells of the freshly cut wood that she used to make the new dining table, the new air freshener that Jessie made out of some poor broken bots rear end, the smell of the chicken frying in the pot, Colton's favorite food. She checked the chicken expecting it to be done but deciding that she'd give it more time.
Walking into the living room gave way to her small TV she fished out of the scrapyard. Turning it on and flipping to the news hoping that she wouldn't see her son's face unless it was to celebrate a successful mission. Above her TV was a picture of their family, Colton was only 12 when they took the picture but his face already screamed lady killer. She looked at herself and saw the change with time. She was much younger then than she was now, the life and energy she had never diminished but the wrinkles in her skin looked more prominent now. How old was she now, 48?
"Jeez, I did get pretty old," she chuckled to herself. She focused back on the TV for a moment as what looked like a news report came on showing a brawl had broken out at Barley's Bar. "Colton is there, which means Jessie is nearby," she gripped her chair in anticipation of what the reporter would say next.
"Reports say that the brawl started after a man came falling from the rafters with bullet holes in his chests." She clutched her heart but stilled her nerves as she waited before coming to a conclusion. "The man was identified as Cavin Mosley, a bodyguard of Baux the Black, notorious thief and low-level crime boss of the Greater Sand Dunes. Upstairs another body was found of one of Baux's associates though a name could not be found."
"Next time why don't ya start with who they are instead of leaving us on pins and needles," she sighed to herself.
"We were able to catch up to bar owner Barley the Bot himself," a robot with a single eye walked on screen. He wore an old-fashioned red sleeveless vest with a long white shirt beneath it. His bowtie really gave the feeling of an old western bartender but the ringer was the bowler hat and big metal mustache on his face. "Mr. Barley let me start by saying that on the behalf of our community, you serve some of the best drinks in all of Robotown, maybe even Brawltopia."
"Why thank you, madam," Barley responded with that robotic British tone, "Now I was told you had some questions for me?"
"Yes if you could be so kind, tell me how did the brawl begin?"
"Oh well that's easy ma'am, you see like you already heard a man came falling from the floor with wounds in his chest. Now that is a regular occurrence here so most just pushed him out the back but the real problem arose when this blonde boy snapped the arm of some poor man in the crowd."
"Oh my, do you have any idea why exactly this happened?"
"No clue, but what I can tell is this. That man won't cross that boy ever again. Hahaha," he laughed lightly.
"Well I guess that boy showed him, size doesn't matter," she looked towards the camera with a wink. "So tell me, Barley, how exactly did you stop the fighting?"
"Oh, I didn't do anything if I had my way I would have just let them get bored after about another fifteen minutes of knocking each other's heads across the bar. No, what happened was this little girl busted open the door and shot off this gun with some strange electric ball flying all over the place. It just kept bouncing off people and electrocuting them until it ran into the wall and died out."
"Well, you must be grateful for that right?"
"Grateful? Of course, I'm not grateful. Not only did she use a gun in my parlor, but she also electrocuted all my customers. Usually, after a brawl, they all get so thirsty from fighting that they buy up all the drinks I have left. A drink tastes best after a brawl in Barley's Battling Bar." he said in an autotuned sing-song voice. "But thanks to that girl they weren't thirsty for drinks but oxygen since she zapped the air out their lungs. I can't make money off air... or can I?"
Ms. Domire could only chuckle to herself hearing her daughter had taken down the whole bar in potentially one shot. "That's my girl, guess she finally got her shock rifle working. Now I guess she will have to finish Project: S.C.R.A.P.P.Y, whatever that is." Ms. Domire looked up at the picture once again and smiled looking at her daughter. Jessie was only 2 when the picture was taken, she was playing with a sparkplug that their father had just finished using to fix the family car. She remembered how much fun the family used to have in the old scrapyard. Looking for random items to repurpose for their strange needs.
Her eyes slid over to the final member in the picture. A large man with shoulders broader than hers. He looked a lot like Colton does now except he had a fine stubble across his chin and was much larger. Her eyes finished moving up landing on the engraving in the frame, 'Marci and Ronald Domire's Little Devils'.
"I miss ya, Ronald. We all do." Marci mumbled to herself.
Her attention was drawn back to the TV as the reporter seemed to be finishing her interview, "Well thank you, Mr. Barley, for the very helpful info and we hope your bar a speedy recovery." On that note, Barley took his leave making his way back to his parlor. "In other news, local sheriff of the Greater Sand Dunes Colton Domire, better known as Sheriff Colt, was able to capture the notorious Baux this afternoon and is currently enjoying a stay at the Dusty Max Prison."
"Atta boy, knew my son was gonna make it out just fine. Didn't doubt him for one second I mean, he is my son," she flexed her arms that were as big as her head. Though her age may show signs of weakness, the build of her body and the pep in her step would say otherwise. She had the strength of an ox and the kindness of an angel but when it came to fighting she was a force to reckon with. She could even move faster than you would expect. It was like the weight she gained was only a handicap to give other people a chance to survive her. Or maybe the size helped her train her body to higher levels. That wasn't on her mind at the moment though, what she was thinking about currently was her glory days.
Being a medic in the army were some of the best years of her life. Not to say that her life in the scrapheaps wasn't fun, being with her daughter every day is a blessing and sometimes a curse. Jessie really doesn't take no for an answer, especially when it came to her insane ideas. When she first started to create her shock rifle Marci remembered the explosions that would rock the scrapyard and for Jessie to turn a corner with her hair charred black and standing on edge. The image would worry her but the smile on Jessie's face would prove that what sounded like a failure was just proof of progress. She would always say, "If it blows up that doesn't mean it's not impossible, it just means I didn't do it right."
She was surprised by the wisdom of her daughter at such a young age. It reminded her of Ronald, and how they met. That fateful day on the frontlines Marci was just a field medic, she had seen so many men and women die on the front lines that she was about to quit. She didn't think she could stomach letting another person die on her watch.
That was until some crazy guy stumbled in one day with crimson blood soaking his already scarlet hair. He was smiling while she wrapped his head in gauze and tried to give him a sedative for the pain. He looked into her eyes and could see the guilt she was fighting. He grabbed her hand stopping her from giving him the sedative. "Something tells me I'm not in as much pain as you ma'am." His voice was so smooth yet rough, it awoke all her senses yet she felt like she could fall asleep to the sound of his whispers. "Don't feel like it's your fault if we die here. That just means our time has come, some of us might be scared of the end but I can promise you that none of us would have signed up for this if we didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. Your job is not always to save us, sometimes the best thing you can do is just comfort us as we approach the end."
He put his hand under her chin so he could get a clear look at her face. She looked into his eyes and found safety, she never felt scared in her life. She always knew she could protect herself in a fight but the pain of not being able to save these people seemed to take a toll on her psyche. Now, all that weight seemed to be lifted as she listened to his words. A faint smile crossed her face as she felt relief knowing that someone understood her problem and was willing to comfort her for a change. He smiled back stating, "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna pass out from this mind-numbing pain I'm experiencing. I hope to see you when I wake up, miss?" he questioned.
"Montoya. Marci Montoya."
"Damn." he sighed, "That's... way better... than... Marci... Domire." He passed out to that last statement and left poor Marci flustered as she tended to the bloodied soldier before her.
The sound of a door closing and rambling outside shook her out of her daydream. She looked out the window and saw Colton and Jessie walking back from his police cruiser. Colton had a bunch of small scratches and bruises across his face as he seemed to argue with Jessie about something. Jessie's face was still smooth save for the dirt and oil that she accumulated from a hard day's work at the junkyard.
"Looks like those two are in a fight again, and of course Colton just let her beat on him like a punching bag." She rolled up her sleeve revealing a gear tattoo on her right shoulder with a skull in the middle, "Welp, looks like Paramedic Attendant Marci is on duty."