Tin Men

A short except from the same roleplay that the chapter, "Fields of Can'-Ka No Rey" takes place in. Introducing Septimus and the Tin Men (yes, based visually from "Tin Man"). The speech is all mine, though.

The gunshots did not ring-out, or even echo. Wood does not carry sound well. Nevertheless, every time those crass bangs rang out, death reaped another.

There lay Cordelia Brume slumped over the bar, her locks draped over the whiskey shots she loved more than any man and her large saggy breasts pressed against a counter on which she had screwed many of those aforementioned men...which had always been followed by the whiskey.

Ole' Nord, looked like he was kissing his trusty pee-an-o, face bunched up against the two doors that hid the automatic rollers behind. It was Nord's dirty secret, t'was, that he never knew how to actually play the pee-an-o; the thing played itself. But he was trig e'no to move his hands in the right motion, and nobody knew the wiser.

Mista Nix, the owner of the joint, lay flat on the ground, looking as peaceful as a 'pie. There he was, hands clasped in front and feet still primly properly together, as if he were only taking a nap.

But dear Cordelia's brains lay splattered against the back of the bar, Nord's back was riddled with bloody holes, and Mista Nix would've looked like he was only nappin', that was until one saw the jagged, empty chasm that was the back of his skull.

Another here, another there. Bullet holes splattered up and down the walls, peppering the old, grayed out portraits on the walls with gray matter and guts. A loud crash from another lifeless, leaking body falling off a splintered table onto the ground.

A man in a black leather longcoat, with large folded flaps over his chest walked among the grisly scene. Most distinctive about his appearance was the plated armor adorning his right arm from shoulder to wrist, in ways similar to the knights of lore, and yet utterly beyond them. From his waist hung the unmistakable shape of a holster.

Other men, dressed similarly, stomped through the massacre as well. Some held rifles, others grease guns. All bore the metal plate armor. Though the rain still pounded outside, its roar louder now that the walls had been pierced with holes, all of the men were dry. One of them, with sharp blonde hair cut short and piercing blue eyes

a killer's eyes blue-deep eyes those of a weapon with an intention

scanned the scene, the left side of his mouth in a frown. The tavern that Eramas had chosen to avoid now lay in bloody shambles at this man's feet, all without the passing of even a word.

"No sign of him?" the blue-eyed deathdealer said, pulling his black gloves on tighter.

"No, dan-Septimus, sir," one of the other longcoats responded.

The man referred to as Septimus only nodded. If his men said there was no sign of him, there that man had not been here in this lifetime.

"Sir!" the curt voice of another one of his men cut in, "We have a survivor."

This longcoat dragged behind him a young boy, already balding at the top with puffy cheeks and wide eyes. Septimus raised an eyebrow.

"The innkeeper's mop-boy, sir, hiding in the stables," The lad in question was soaking wet, and smelled acridly of urine, though if either from the horses or his own fear it was hard to tell, and the azure-eyed dan really didn't care.

The boy's lower lip was trembling like an ornery jackrabbit. "P-p-puh, pul, p-pulz." He smacked his head. "Pul-eze don't kill me" he whimpered in a dumb, low voice.

Septimus crouched until he was eye-level with the mop-boy. "What's your name, son?"

The sole survivor shuddered and released a poppy lil' fart. "S-sa, s-s-sah," he knuckled his temple again. "S-s-ay sorry!"

The man in the black leathers only continued to stare at him, repeating again, "What is your name?"

"R-r-rr-ru, rr-ru..."

"Ruiz, sir," the longcoat finished.

Septimus only nodded, and spoke with that cool, unhurried tone. "Right then, young Ruiz."

The boy looked down, snorting loudly to try and recall the line of snot trickling down.

"Look at me. See this face, and see it very well, I beg."

Ruiz began to whimper, shaking again.

"LOOK AT ME!"

The mop-boy's head snapped up and locked onto the tall man in black leathers before him, still barely holding back his sobs.

"Do you see this face?" Septimus asked, voice reverted back to that cool, almost spine-tingling calm.

Ruiz nodded, gulping loudly.

"Good. Now memorize this face, young Ruiz. Look 'round yourself, and see what happened here. Now look at this face before you. And remember...

This is the face that destroyed your home. This is the face that killed everyone you ever knew. This is the face that is going to slay every single person in this town whether I find what I want or don't. This is the face that will also hunt you down, you and every person your feeble-minded brain could ever think it could love or care about, if it should turn out that he was in this area, after all. This face will command that every child of theirs is smashed on the heels of my men's boots. This face will see to it that everything you ever knew or will know is undone, starting with this filthy shithole of an inn."

"Now," Septimus continued, "Go. Go and find the Alchemist. Find him and make sure he does not leave wherever he is currently embedded. And maybe, just maybe some years later if ever your retard brain recognizes what anger is, you can come for me, boy. Come and try to take me."

He nodded to the other longcoat, who relinquished the hapless mop-boy and curtly took two steps away. Ruiz blinked, sniveling there for a moment or two in disbelief (maybe he wasn't that slow), and then broke out into a run towards the door.

The boy had just crossed the doorway outside and entered the pouring rain when Septimus reached down and pulled out his pistol, leveled it, and fired. Outside, the boy fell flat on his face into the mud and did not stir.

"I changed my mind," the owner of those cruel blue eyes said, and re-holstered his pistol.

Author's Note

Outfit for the longcoats openly borrowed from the mini-series, "Tin Man."

I usually proofread my works, however as always I'm sure there are typos and syntax errors. I appreciate any and all notices of that, and will work to correct those. If I haven't do know that I did acknowledge your notice and try implementing it, but found that it detracted from the effect I wanted and so omitted it.

Reviews

[Lena M. P.]

This felt like a mixture of medieval meets futuristic. Very interesting concept and storyline. Left me wanting more. Great opening chapter to catch audience interest and participation. Well written.