Wild West Part 1

Posted on Tue Nov 16th, 2021 @ 3:27pm by Nollel Livaam (*) & Executive Officer Jake Ford & Micheal Robertson & Angel Ramirez
Edited on on Tue Nov 23rd, 2021 @ 2:43pm

Mission: Mission 14: Holoworld
Location: SS Holoship
Timeline: MD 3 09:00
2337 words - 4.7 OF Standard Post Measure

As the team continued their search for the woman who was seemingly responsible for the current state of things, they came across a large set of doors that were open. All of the other doors they had tried had been locked tight.

"Well," Micheal sighed, “I guess the only onward, is through those doors." He looked at his companions. "I'll go first." He then cautiously stepped through the open doorway and took a few steps inside. After nothing happened, he turned back and silently waved them in.

Nollel shrugged at the suggestion. It was her first step on the ship and she was only going to prove that she felt better. "Suit yourself," Nollel prompted. “I only came along to be able to stretch my legs.”

As they entered, the massive doors suddenly slid shut behind them. The doors on the opposite side also slammed shut. Then, the black and yellow grid that was the room suddenly changed to reveal a desert scene, the team being positioned atop the entrance to a wide valley. Down in the valley floor was a town. From where the team stood, the town seemed to be bustling, somewhat. There were about fifteen separate buildings visible, with horses and wagons going in and out. Off in the distance, a steam locomotive was pulling into the local train station.

The only woman in the group frowned at all the men that were much bigger than her. At least she would be safe if anything happened. "Computer, where are we?" Nollel asked hopefully as she looked around, trying to make it out. She looked around as the computer did not respond at all. "Another glitch there, I guess," she said, rolling her eyes as she looked for a way down, relieved that she was wearing flats.

Angel shielded his eyes as he looked down at the town, squinting against the sun. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” the security officer noted.

Micheal looked out over their surroundings. "No...we're not." He then chuckled and grinned. "That's Navasota, Texas! It's about fifty miles from my family's ranch!"

“So Earth?” Nollel had no idea, but she gathered it was Earth from the way everyone was reacting. She really needed to look at the program list and see if there were any New York programs to explore with Michael for a moment of escapism after the last few weeks.

"Yeah, looks like Texas alright," Jake agreed. "Though clearly this isn't a modern recreation. Looks a lot older." He motioned to an old wooden table that seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere, bearing period clothing and accessories of an enormous variety. He scooped up a wide-brimmed hat and slid it onto his head. "Looks like some 'yee haw' time."

Micheal gave Jake a smirk. "You should be careful, son," he said, his Texas drawl becoming more pronounced. "Not a wise decision to cast disparaging comments about the great state of Texas, when one of her sons is standing right in front of you." He gave his friend a playful wink. "Even if it is holographic."

"My old man was born about forty miles out of Houston," Jake retorted. "Runs in the blood."

Micheal nodded in reply to Jake's comment. "Fair enough." He then looked over the collected outfits to choose from and he saw what he wanted. After moving behind a screen the popped up for him, he started to change his clothes.

A few moments later, he reemerged, looking like the epitome of a gunslinger from the early nineteen hundreds. Black leather boots, with an ornate set of spurs on them. Dark charcoal-colored pants, being held up by a set of black suspenders, and a double thigh holster, complete with a matching pair of Colt revolvers. The pistols were silver with pearl handles and both were covered in intricate carvings. He was wearing a blue button-up long sleeve Union shirt with a black cotton vest over that. Over all of it, he was wearing a dark brown duster. He also had on a pair or tanned calf-skin gloves and a black wide-brimmed Stetson. The outfit was completed by the inclusion of a Remington pump action twelve gauge shotgun. "Now this is an outfit," he drawled with a smile.

Nollel sighed and picked up a dress, disappearing behind the screen that had appeared. The dress covered only a small portion of her shoulders and flowed down into a fancy neckline that showed a lot more than she was comfortable with but she made do. The dress had a flared skirt in red satin with ruffled layers of black and red at the bottom. She added her comfortable boots that suited the dress.

“I believe this is called a saloon girl outfit,” she said, coming back out, piling her hair up into a more suitable style.

Angel couldn’t help but eye Nollel in that dress. He gave a low whistle of appreciation. He turned to survey the remaining outfit and sighed a bit. “I’m not a bloody Mexican,” the Havana native said, picking up the colorful woven poncho. He shrugged and changed, pulling on the canvas trousers, leather chaps, boots, and blue shirt. He strapped a Colt Peacemaker on his hip and tugged the poncho on, along with a bandolier of bullets across his chest. The outfit was finished with a wide-brimmed straw hat.

After a few beats, Micheal wondered something to himself. Then, deciding on an action, he let out a piercing, warbling whistle.

Angel winced, crouching a bit, hand brushing over the handle of the gun at his hip as he looked around.

"What've you got in mind?" Jake wondered.

Before Michael could reply, the sounds of approaching horses could be heard. Suddenly three magnificent beasts appeared and moved over to each of the men. Micheal quickly mounted his horse, then leaned down and offered his arm to Nollel. "Care for a lift, little lady?"

"I am fine. I think I might take my own horse." She giggled, already spying what she would do.

Angel paused, eying the beast in front of him. This was certainly out of his wheelhouse. He was more of a pirate than a cowboy, coming from the Caribbean.

“Okay. Easy there,” Angel said, holding his hands to the creature. He patted it tentatively on the shoulder as he tried to make out how to get up on it as easily as Michael had.

"Haven't seen one of these in a long time," Jake noted, similarly patting down the chestnut-coated horse he'd earmarked for himself. After a moment he took his time to mount up and slide himself into place. "What's the old expression? 'Back in the saddle'?" he asked with a grin.

“If you can get there.” Angel had a nice pinto in black and white, but it was shying away from him. Unknown to him, he was trying to mount from the right side instead of the left.

Nollel laughed at Angel and shook her head. She grabbed the reins and climbed up onto the horse a lot less gracefully than she would have in trousers before offering her hand to the man. "Fancy some help?" she teased the man, feeling so much more herself again. He was one of her best friends on board the ship, as he treated her like everyone else and respected her boundaries. It was nice.

“I feel like I should say no,” Angel admitted. “My machismo cries out in lamentation.” But he accepted the help and mounted the horse up behind Nollel. “Just don’t tell my abuelito.”

Micheal chuckled softly. Once all three horses were mounted, he said, "Well, I guess we should head on into town, see if we can find some answers. Unless anyone has a better idea?"

"Seems like it is our only option. Right, boss?" Nollel threw over her shoulder to Jake. He was the one leading the team, so he got to decide, even if they were throwing themselves into the game of cowboys and the wild west.

"Let's mosey on in," Jake agreed, enjoying the moment as much as the others.

The small troupe of horses trotted forward, slowly at first, until the riders organised themselves and adjusted to their mounts. After a short period of time, it was like they had been programmed to be easy to ride and they were charging forward at a good pace towards the open track into a local town. Navasota -- the town's name -- was scrawled in ink on a wooden signpost by the entrance. It wasn't that large, either: a few dozen structures assembled around a wide open main street, lined with various shops and such. At the far end there looked to be a small steeple, probably a chapel, that the road ended at.

"Where do we want to hit up first? Saloon?" Jake asked, looking at the others.

Micheal spoke up first. "That or the sheriff's office?"

"Let's go to the saloon. It might give us a hint to the storyline," Nollel offered, quickly taking it all in from the small chapel to the way everything seemed silent.

“I could use a drink,” Angel winced. “My nethers aren’t used to this bouncing.”

Nollel turned on the horse and giggled just a little bit at her friend's current situation. It had to be hurting him for him to mention it. "Here we are." The woman announced, awkwardly climbing down from the horse. It was a lot harder to keep decent in the dress, but she would have been unable to ride side saddle. It was not something she had ever learnt.

Micheal moved his horse up to the hitching bar and expertly dismounted. Then, after securing the reins on the bar, he patted his horse lightly, and moved around to the boardwalk, his stance and demeanor making him look like he belonged here, in the wild west.

Following in almost at the same time, Jake scanned the saloon. It was typical of the time period, with a few wooden bits of furniture occupied by old men drinking and playing cards, an older gentleman playing a harpsichord, and a couple of underdressed women hanging from an upper balcony making inviting gestures.

"Well now. I'm down for a drink. Anyone else?" he suggested.

Nollel raised her hand as she took in the women who were dressed similar to her. She hoped that no one took what she was wearing the same. The woman had no intention of joining them or following through with what they were trying to invite people into.

Micheal stepped up to the bar and rapped his knuckle on the surface to get the barkeeper's attention. "Four whiskeys," he said as he tossed a couple dollar coins onto the surface of the bar.

Angel managed to follow the others into the saloon. He smiled up at the women on the balcony before making his way to the bar, idly wondering just how full service this place was. It had been a long time since Freecloud, and he wasn’t one of the lucky ones with a current on board relationship. He shook that thought away and accepted his whiskey.

Jake took a swig of the whiskey. It tasted good, though he knew that as it was holographic they wouldn't be getting drunk from it. "Well." He glanced from Michael to Nollel to Angel. "I wonder if--"

They were interrupted by someone bursting through the door. An elderly gentleman with spindly white hair and black clothing, his collar wrapped in a white band indicating that he was some sort of padre. "I-It's the Deadlock Gang! T-They're robbin' the bank!"

Jake glanced at his compatriots. "What do y'all think? Shall we be good guys?"

“Always.” Nollel was never going to be the bad guy ever again if she ever could.

Michael downed his whiskey, then turned to Jake. "Well, Chief, I sure didn't get all gussied up to sit on the sides. He then moved to put an arm around the padre's shoulders. "A'right, Padre. Spill. How many of those lowlifes are still standing?"

"F-F-Four or f-five?" the old priest stammered.

"Well now." Jake grinned. "Lucky for you, you just bumped into some big damn heroes on our way through town. Maybe we can go pay these fine folks a visit."

“In the bank, or out?” Angel asked. He pulled his gun from his holster and paused. “Um, how the hell do these things work?” he asked. It looked loaded, but he wasn’t sure. This wasn’t a phaser. The trigger was obvious enough, but beyond pointing it and pulling the trigger, he didn’t know much else.

As soon as Angel drew his pistol, the patrons sitting around scrambled for cover, the women upstairs left the balcony for the relative safety of their rooms, and the bartender ducked down behind his bar.

Micheal moved over from the terrified padre and held out his right hand to Angel. "I'll show you."

“Thanks,” Angel said, handing over the Peacemaker to Michael, handle first. He did know about phaser safety, after all.

Taking the revolver, Micheal showed Angel that, before each pull of the trigger, he'd need to pull the hammer back first. "It can be a bit of a pain, in the beginning. However, once you get the hang of it, you can go through your shots rather quickly. Just bear in mind you ammo count. You'll go through these six rounds faster than you think and then you'll need to reload, and reload quickly." He showed Angel how to open the chamber , then spun it shut again, handing the firearm back.

Nollel watched, but she was more of a distraction and hit them with something hard type of person. “So one person each then,” she said as the padre scoffed at her. “I am more capable than half of these people hiding scared,” the woman countered.

"All right then, compadres. Let's go hunt us down some dangerous outlaws!" Jake declared.