End of the Gilded Age - RP Topic

“Okay, well, I can see we’re at an impasse here, but the problem you have is that my ole partner Crazy Earl is here,” Manco continued, pointing at the old man, “so you can gun me down if you want, but crazy earl here’s got a quicker draw than me, and he’ll shoot you down. But if you try to shoot crazy earl here, then I’ll be forced to shoot you. I’m not sure anybody wants to be shot today.”

" 'Nuff about crazy earl!" bandit 4 cries. “We ain’t afraid of an old man. Now hold still, so we can shoot you down!” He aims his gun again. He fires, this time missing his mark.

The woman bandit, who takes your bluff, actually fires at Bob Dowell. He gets shot in the chest. She laughs. “Well, looks like ‘crazy earl’ is taken care of!”

He puts the lighters glame out and moves it away from the stick. “Now, please everyone take a seat.” He says, he then turns to the terrified snoring man. “Begging won’t get you out off this situation, okay… you know what why don’t you be a dear and bring us some beverages.” He continues throwing some change to him. “Then you might at least be useful for something.” He mutters as he takes a seat a cross the woman. “You know, I haven’t had a good drink for the last day or two and it really grind my gears.” He starts…

Manco took that moment to fire upon the two with his gun, quickly turning the crank.

He reached into his jacket, and-

-grasped the handle of his Luger, pulling it out quickly, and sgooting at the woman, aiming at her head.

Poor woman. Now turned around from you, she did not stand a chance. As your bullet rings out, her head explodes and her body falls right onto the ground before her.

You fire upon the woman, the exact moment she would be shot by Richard. The bullet goes in the same time her head explodes. The other bandit also gets shot, right in the stomach. He falls back, and grasps his stomach and groans in pain.

The snoring man nods, and finds some beer where the porter usually serves. He finds something actually American made, behind a cabinet saying “for Dowell”. He gives it to you.

The other bandits sit down, afraid of you.

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“&$%#'it, is there a doctor here?” Manco shouted, turning to aid Bob."

Bob Dowell starts coughing up blood. “I-I think… They cough-” He struggles to talk, as more blood starts to erupt from his mouth.

Unfortunately, nobody else besides Richard, Bob Dowell, and the injured bandit is in the cab with you.

“You’re not going to die here Bob!” Manco ordered, quickly removing Bob’s jacket.

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“Such a pity. A life wasted in crime, well, it seems the odds are even then.” He says to her companion.

“Now, now everyone, no need to be so stiff losen up.” He says looking at the cast of bandits. “Usually bandits don’t agree to a chat, jusg glad I didn’t have to waste such a perfectly good stick on more low life like you.” He says. When the snoring man returned he thanked him for the drinks and began chugging the beer. “Finally a drink of quality.” He comments as he lets out a refreshed “ahh”.

You strip it off. Blood is also erupting from the bottom left of his chest. You may not be a doctor, but you know a shot there is most likely fatal.

In his weakness, Bob Dowell starts to slowly move his hand. He reaches into his pocket, and takes out a key. He gulps a bit, and starts to talk. “T-they got me good. Take the key. It’s for the gold. I-I b-brought it. I-I suppose it e-endangered everyone here.”

He sputters, and struggles to breath. “B-Bring gasp it to Wall Street Bank, will ya? T-the case number is 4E.”

The bandit struggles to breath as well, his face turning pale from a loss of blood.

The Victorian woman looks at you sternly. “Are you gonna share that?”

As you talk, suddenly a man bursts through the door of the cab. He wears a badge with an eye. “Pinkerton here! Reporting for duty. Just took a few cabs to get here. Now what is all the-?”

He sees you with the bandits, taking a drink, while smoke fills the air in the next cabin over.

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“Stay with me Bob! You’ll deliver it in person.”

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“T-then run for a doctor,” he requests. “Your f-friend can look after me, t-though it may be in vain.”

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Man bolted forwards, slamming his way through the doors of the train until he found an occupied car.

Here, you see a occupied car filled with scared passengers. Seeing you, bloodied and with the smell of smoke, they seem more afraid. One of the men is wearing a top hat, however, and he looks over you, concerned. He gets up from his seat, taking his medical bag.

“Oh dear, are you injured?” he inquires. “I can bandage that arm.”

“No, but there’s someone who is,” he growled, ushering the man to follow him.

“Hello sheriff, this I just got them to settle down a bit it was crazy in here.” He says standing up offering the sheriff his seat, beer in hand. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to get a beer on this train… first you have an incompentent porter who doesn’t understand beverages, then you have to almost blow a train cart up just to get some bandits to sit down and relax.” He explains, “However I think this is my que, we are in New York now after all, right?” He continues, “I’ll be taking my leave now.” He says placing the empty bottle on the table next to where the woman was sitting.

He follows. You take him to Bob Dowell, who looks very pale, and his eyes are closed. The doctor quickly places on gloves, and starts to tend to him. First, he checks the wound.

“Looks like he was shot in the lungs,” the doctor notes. He starts to feel Dowell’s pulse, then takes out some wipes. He cleans up the wound, and pours a little alcohol upon it. Dowell cringes from the pain at first, but the doctor keeps him calm.

The doctor takes out his utensils. “He may yet live. Tell the conductor to start the train, he’ll need to be rushed to a hospital fast. Not an ideal place for a surgery here, but I’ll make sure to stop the bleeding and prevent infection.”

He gets to work on Dowell, carefully tending for him.

“Oh, I’m no sheriff. I’m a security guard,” the Pinkerton agent says. “But thanks.”

The agent takes out handcuffs, and places them on the bandit’s hands. He keeps them tied up to their seats and keeps their guns a good distance away from them.

“Tell me, is Mr. Dowell ok? A doctor just rushed by here. I was keeping an eye on his package.”

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“Who?, I don’t think I’ve meet any Mr Dowell.” He says, trying to think, “Unless, Snorster, are you Mr Dowell?” He asks the snorting man.