h is for one helluva run . rave

JUDGE, YURY &

E X E C U T I O N E R

Timing has all to do with the outcome of a rain dance, Yury's been waiting patiently since the crack of dawn. There's no roosters where they are, he and a few of his crew stationed out in the middle of the melting desert. At this time, it's cool, with the wind having nowhere to go but the face of Sheriff Yury's leather mask. He stares down the barrel of some train tracks from behind a cactus, sitting in the sand with a harmonica to his lips. 

There's three things to beware of in this world: still water, a still dog, and a still enemy. Yury sent the other boys out already - you see, this time he's in charge. No Novak to be Needed, all it takes is a little bit of dynamite Jack sabotaging the tracks and the whole set up will be finished. Moonshine's out keeping watch not too far out and that just leaves Bama, deployed as the decoy at the scene of the crime. 

Yury had no clue what that boy would do from there - why should he care? One thing Bama was known for was flibbing stories and entertaining, all he had to do was direct the big bull long enough for Catastrophe to strike as he does best. Big Bull, that's codename for Mickey. You see, there's a big of a drug problem running around 10 that Novak's set his Sheriff to go handle, and in the center is that bastard Mickey. They had a run in not too long ago with the man, he and his crew attacked one of Elio's and there just was no havin' that. Sure enough, morpling needles and crack cocaine galore which was more than enough to lock up old his underlings. 

Mickey, though, Mickey got away and cleared ass good. 

So from there, he and Novak hatched Operation: Train Heist²! That's right, hot, lusty, train heist on train heist action. Bama caught wind of the word that there was a District 6 supply train comin' through that Big Bull just couldn't resist, so they sent Moonshine out to track the when are where. Approximately now and right here, he started his approach at the first sign of that billowing smoke. Mickey had done already taken the train over by now, that much was clear at the speed at which it was running up on them, so Yury had no hesitation coming hot with two pistols. 

There, they stop at the track blockage, hand painted red signs propped up warning of the rock fall. That would be the work of Dynamite Jack who had a love affair between a fire cracker and a hand grenade. For a second he thought they'd clear right through it, head on collision and they all go home empty handed, by it halts just in the nick of time. 

Yury sneaks to the caboose, counting to twenty two as he waits for Bama to start laying it on thick with the conductor. Now this thing's an old style bessie, a train built maybe in the first decade, he felt a pang of remorse breaking the vintage glass of such a creature. He does what it takes to squeeze himself up and into the back end of the train, rolling onto his feet, pistol drawn at the ready. 

JUDGE, YURY &

E X E C U T I O N E R

Sometimes you have to close a door to open a window.

As Yury attempts to bust the glass with the sharp of his elbow, he locks eyes with what looks like two fools, sitting around on crates with their hands in their laps. He pounds on the glass once, twice before they look up at him, as shocked at the sight of him as he is of them. The glass gives way on the third strike just as they clamor to their feet. He acts quick, wiping the excess shrapnel from the window before heaving himself up and into the back of the great bessie. Still, a stray shard slices at the side of his stomach, cutting through the red threads of his button up. 

"Argh," he grunts, "my favorite train heist shirt!" Yury doesn't have the time to adjust himself before the first of the two grunts takes a running charge at him, plunging at his face straight and hard. These kids must be young, fresh to a fight, he squats as he ducks away from it, taking the opportunity to push her into the wall behind him. He hesitates to hurt them, two teens at the hire of some district 10 goon - that ain't gone teach them near as much as time in the pen will. 

Still, in his lapse, the second body wraps their arms around his neck, attempting to pull him onto the ground, a battle of attrition and weight distribution. He draws his heels into the ground, stumbling and dropping his pistol to grab at the arm around his throat. Eventually he gives way, trying to catch the male grunt by surprise as they fall to the ground in a clamor. He falls on his back while Yury falls onto him with all his weight, stunning long enough to grab the longest and widest shard of glass he could from the ground next to them. 

Once he's to his feet, the first grunt meets him with a gun to his face. His gun, an Adroxis revolver dated as far back as the retro train they find themselves. He holds his hands up, shard pointing to the ceiling as he finds himself in a little bit of danger. 

"Hold it motherfucker!" She shouts, and he cringes thinking of the noise he must be creating. Hopefully they don't hear it up front - "holding," he says behind his mask. 

She looks to him and to the guy on the ground and back to Yury, her hands all wrong on the gun besides her finger on the trigger. "What do you want, huh? You want the whole damn train?"

"Nah, nah," Yury says, thinking over how he's going to get out of this. "What's your name?"

"I've got the gun, I'm asking the fucking questions!"

"Alright, jeez... what's his name?"

"What the hell do you want?!" She asks again, shaking the gun once as if he's forgotten it's there. Her companion gets up and saunters over behind her, Yury takes a step to the side to block them from exiting the caboose. Worst case scenario they go and alert that bastard. 

"I want to know what you kids are doing for Mickey, ain't you a little young to be doing crime?" He asks, as if he wasn't worse - times were different alright. 

"We work for him, dumbass, now get on your knees!" 

Yury thinks for a second, shrugging his shoulders as he looks between the two of them. Her fingers tightening around the trigger and he can't play around much longer, "well-"

"Knees, asshole! Now!" 

"Think you picked a bad day to come to work," he says, spin kicking with a flair, his boot striking the gun out of her hands with a bullet flying through the ceiling of the train. She yelps and recoils, but the other grunt doesn't wait, lunging for him aimlessly as Yury braces to take him on. He knows better than to hesitate again; these kids are crazy, much like he was at their age. Hell, much like he still is, a wild buck looking for a quick buck.

Yury protects his face from two blows with the width of his left arm before he's able to shove the grunt off of him, flipping the shard in his hand and gripping it hard enough to draw blood from his palm. "My turn?" You won't like this, he gets a left hook in before swinging with the piece of glass, digging it deep into the side of the boy's chest. Their fight subsides quickly before Yury's able to knock him into submission, turning back to the girl to find her running for the back door. 

"Oh no ya don't," peace ain't an option anymore. She made the cardinal mistake of turning an old man's pistol against him, now it's a matter of pride. He hurdles over a crate to reach her, her hands fumbling to unlock the train's exit until Yury's fists find a grasp on her hair, dragging her to the ground with her hat flying to her side. It takes three pistol whips until she's unconscious, but at least she ain't get shot. His knee pops as he straightens back up, prying the keychain loose from the door before turning to advance further up the train. 

These two ain't going anywhere, the first guy a mess of groans and moans, "you really just gonna leave me here?" 

"Find a new job, kid." 

Catastrophe strikes, he steps over both of them on his way to the next train section, keys in hand. 

[ noise made ]
UX5xWMIoOR1-20


( Not too bad, he thinks to himself as the keys jingle, but they definitely heard that gunshot. Hope 'Bama can handle what's 'bout to come his way. These kids remind him of Rogue - they'll all be the death of him yet. )

JUDGE, YURY &

E X E C U T I O N E R

Things divulge to being hell in a hand basket pretty quick. 

He ain't never had a problem with that. 

As he twists the key, he hesitates for a second, pressing his ear to the hole instead and overhearing a whole lot of nothing he'd like to hear. Everything he'd need to hear though - things up front seem to gone to shit, and quick. That kid, 'Bama, he's alright, one of the youngest working for old Elio, so Yury's brow twitches at the sign of danger. He listens along to what sounds like a western drama; just my style! It'd be exciting if it weren't one of his own in trouble, 'Bama arguing with the conductor ain't a good sign, the worry in his heart only worsens as it continues.

"Let me go, you motherfuckers-!"

"Well, shit," he spits, the idiot grunt eyeing him up from the ground with his stab wound. That kid's glare says what are you gonna do with me, and Yury ain't thought that far ahead. He only has a moment to get it together, so he drags the grunt - kickin' and hollerin' - to the back door with the other one, her unconscious. In a matter of seconds, he makes the three of them disappear, kicking open the exit and plopping both of them to the side of the train as he makes his way to the battered window. There he stands, nostrils flared, pistol to his ear as he waits for the big boys to show up. 

They're precursored by the muffled yelping of none other than Alabama, he hears it coming from a mile away. Yury holds his breath as the group of them shuffle their way from one section to the next, his ears burning for every second they fiddle with unlocking the cargo carriage. He sees through the busted, dusty window as the door opens and he takes that as his cue to make his way 'round back, leaving footprints in the red clay ground as he finds his way behind them. 

One, "mmm mmmm mmm!" Two, "mm mmmm!!" Three, "MMMMMMPH?!""

Yury's countdown ends with him stomping his right foot against the door, both hands on his pistol as he emerges as a copperhead does, chest puffed and at the rear. "Lookin' for little old me?" He says, cocking his head before slamming his gun down on the neck of the conductor and shooting him in the left knee as he falls to the ground. That old man writhes in pain as his sidekick charges Catastrophe head on, knocking the wind out of him as he's pushed outside and onto his back on the deck of the caboose. He takes two left hooks to the face before breaking out of the stunlock, twisting his fists into the henchman's collar above him.

They wrestle for a moment as Yury finds himself overpowered by this larger man, "you gones regret ever coming here, sheriff!" He barks, spitting on the face of Catastrophe's mask before decking him once more in the throat. It ain't lookin' good, but it's looked a hell of a lot worse before - "agh, Bama!" He shouts out, busying his hands with catching the henchman's fist. Yury catches a glimpse of his pistol on the caboose floor, not too far from the bloodied glass shard. That kid's got a choice, to stab or shoot, but either way he's gotta act quick. 

"Mind helpin' an old man out?!"