golden-ghost-gunslinger

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Gunslinger had his sights set on the Baron's manor. Something told him that he had little time to find the answers he sought, and therefore, he pressed forward.

Unwanted memories burned into the back of his mind... long nights under a bright lamp, instruments digging into his skin and liquids dripping on open wounds. Long days concentrating harder and harder, without anything but a sharp stick on his back and his sister's terrified eyes watching from the darkened hall. Until the day his fingertips turned a golden hue for the first time.

His father had always been greedy. Had always wished to own his weight in gold. Midas had made good on that wish, before leaving that house and that name behind. With only his sister in tow, and the clothes on his back... and an unfamiliar weight in his fingertips.

That had been ages ago. He got used to the weight in his fingers, then his hands, then his arms.

But he had always wondered why. Was it purely greed? Or something more?

It wasn't until the day the Baron recognized his face for the first time that he began to suspect that there was more he'd never known.

He hated not knowing things. Leaving his past with knots untied itched at his mind, almost as much as every fresh layer of gold itched at his arms.

Tonight, perhaps, he could learn the truth.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Gunslinger had achieved his goal with the train heist. It wasn't the gold, naturally. Any fool could see that he had access to plenty of that. And it wasn't those ridiculous pickle coins. It wasn't even the weaponry.

Inside the train vault, there was a blueprint of the Baron's mansion. A blueprint which included the location of an incredibly private safe. And in that safe, maybe, just maybe, the Gunslinger could find evidence of the Baron's previous business dealings.

Many men lusted after gold. But the Baron was no mere man. And the Gunslinger was willing to bet that he had been in contact with a wide variety of people to acquire the gold he had found. Prospectors, bankers, adventurers, pirates... and alchemists.

Alchemists... like his father.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

Silent as a ghost, the Gunslinger leapt onto the train. A bit of sharpshooting, and some fancy dynamite later, and he was in. Time to be sure the Baron knew who had plundered his goods...

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Gunslinger sat amongst the storage crates and cast-offs, forced by boredom to relive his memories. This would not do, naturally, so he began to do what he often did when he had nothing but time, and began to write a mental letter, a reply to his sister he'd never send.

Dearest Julia,

There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss you.

I received your letter, and keep it beside my heart always.

Apologies for not writing sooner--

He growled to himself and mentally erased those words. Apologies were for weak men who made mistakes.

He began again.

How are things back in Chicago? News reached us all the way out here about the big fair there. Even heard tell of some magnificent mechanized critters built by an upstart young lady from the East Coast.

I'm glad you were able to get out here. I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it--

Again, with the apologies. The Gunslinger felt himself beginning to fume, took a deep breath, and let his frustration out. Shaking his arms to relieve the familiar tension of freshly forged gold, he began again.

Things are going fine by me. The Baron has made no further headway here in California, thanks to myself and my band of outlaws. They're calling me a modern Robin of Locksley, or a real life Zoro. You know me, Julia, that's not at all what I am. But better they spread those stories than the ones they told back home.

At least no one calls me that awful name our father, may the devil drink from his skull, saw fit to give me. My band calls me the Golden Gunslinger, nowadays. It's good enough, I suppose...

He never could find a way to end these. Then again, he was never going to send them, so maybe it was for the best. Besides, he heard the sound of a train coming in. It was time to get to work.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

Brutal Boxcars. He had arrived. And he was alone… at the moment, it would seem.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Gunslinger walked the land, heading towards what his map indicated as the closest place the train would slow. He would have preferred to ride, but Marigold had not made the trip with him, and he was distrustful of these metal vehicles he had been recommended.

If only there were boats here... he had a knack for sailing, and had often dreamt of retirement for himself and his sister aboard a riverboat of some time. It seemed odd how much water was about, yet there were no boats to sail upon it.

He noticed another party approaching, and cursed to himself, hiding in a nearby bush. His father would have objected to the language. And potentially the desire to hide. His father liked to object to things, when he still breathed.

"What in tarnation is coming over me..." He whispered.

It wasn't like him to reminisce about the past. He was a man of moves, of action. Hell, he needed to get this action underway, in the hopes that he might return back home... wherever home was. Assuming he hadn't cracked.

He grit his teeth. "I could do without the second guessing, too."

This was why he liked having a crew around him. He worked best alone, but it seemed that livin was better with people around you. He wondered what the Brute would say about his current situation. Or the Prospector. They'd have choice words, no doubt.

Enough time pondering. The party had gotten a move on, and he needed to do the same. He could question his life choices after he got out of this thrice cursed purgatory.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

Upon exiting the store, the Gunslinger was met by a group of four.

"Gentleman, ladies." He tipped his hat before squinting at the last. "Fish. What can I do ye for?"

A pink haired woman in a dark coat, their leader apparently, came forward, lazily twirling a shotgun. "Well, if yer in the mood to come along reasonable like, it would be mighty kind of you to turn yourself in. Not certain if you heard, but there's a rather large sum on your head."

The Gunslinger barked out a laugh. "Courtesy of one Baron Kane, no doubt? Come now, you believe that he'd let anyone leave his fancy mansion with that much gold on their hands?"

"If we bring him yours." She retorted smoothly.

Four guns were pointed at him.

"Course, the poster does specify that they don't need to be attached." She drawled. "Per say."

The Gunslinger sighed. "I find myself a reasonable man surrounded by gold loving neanderthals. Very well, if it's a fight yer wanting, allow me to introduce you to my pair of associates."

Bang. The other lady fell down, as smoke curled from the barrel of one of the Gunslinger's pistol. A single diamond inlaid on the handle.

"This here, is Monty."

Another bang, and the man went down. Not even a twitch from the gun in his other hand, a gleaming red ruby shining from the handle.

"And this is Val. They tend to get a little feisty on folks that threaten me."

He raised an eyebrow at the fish. "Comprende?"

The fish warbled slightly, then took off running.

The Gunslinger turned back to the woman in black. "Seems the mackerel had some brains in him. How about you?"

She grit her teeth and lowered the shotgun. "This ain't over, Outlaw. Kane just raised the price on your head tenfold this morning. Every outlaw, inlaw, crook and straight is gonna be gunning for those hands of yours."

The Gunslinger smirked. "How unfortunate for them. I happen to like my hands. Now, how bout you go git. Thank me for being merciful or some such."

It wasn't until after the woman bolted that he sighed and holstered his pistols at his chest. So that's what had them all so riled up. The bounty was obscenely high, on further thought.

Too bad he had been playing roulette with a gun to his head his whole life. He hadn't lost yet, and today would be no different.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Gunslinger lounged against a building wall, eyes occasionally darting up from the paper in his hands to the gun shop across the street. The owner had just unlocked it, and was now inside, setting up for the day.

He was going to give the man a moment. He had time, after all-- the day was still young enough, and his plans could wait another few minutes.

Once those few minutes were up, however, he folded his sister's letter, carefully placed it into his breast pocket, and walked across the street and into the door. He was gonna need a lot of ammo, come the next few hours.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Gunslinger slowly picked his way down the street, spurs jingling at every step. The asphalt of this place was nothing like the wood and dirt of his home. It was cold. And constantly wet.

Shaking out his hat for the fourth time under an underpass, he found what he was looking for. It was a wanted poster, alright, and it appeared to be for him. Or at least, a him.

"Don't spot the resemblance myself." He muttered. "I reckon I actually bathe."

Whoever this "Outlaw" was, he'd be bad for business. That wasn't a problem on the Gunslingers mind, though. He had been plotting a train heist, last he recalled, and he'd be dammed if he didn't make good on that plan. Whatever this place was, it still had Baron Fletcher Kane, and that was reason enough for him to keep stepping.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The Golden Gunslinger walked over to his usual table, over in a corner. Conversation started back up again quickly, as he settled into a seated slouch, one leg on the table. At a gesture, a drink was brought over, and he paid the awestruck waiter by turning his napkin casually to gold.

As he sipped his drink, a man in a poncho came and sat opposite to him. The Gunslinger raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't respond. Finishing his drink, he sighed, and looked at the man.

"When I gave you the assignment, I did so with the understanding that you would complete it before I saw your face again." He said quietly. "Am I to assume that you have done so?"

The other man nodded, taking out a piece of paper, and sliding it over to the Gunslinger. "Full plans for Kane's train. Strengths, weaknesses, openings in his security... the full works."

The Gunslinger clicked his tongue. "Did I not also ask for a list of names willing to help in liberating some of the good baron's goods off his back?"

The man chuckled. "Funny story, actually. See, I was asking around, and... turns out, there's not a lot of people willing to work with ya. Even for a ton of gold. There are some that say the bounty on your head-"

He pulled out a revolver and pointed it at the Gunslinger.

"Is worth more than what you'd pay for hiring em. Ain't that right... Midas?"

The bar was deathly quiet. All present looking on, waiting to see what would happen next.

As it was, what happened next was that there was a loud bang, and the Poncho man fell over, chest smoking. Matching smoke raised slowly from the barrel of one of the Gunslingers pistols.

"And here I took you for an intellectual." He said, wryly. "Shame that you decided to disappoint."

As the bar went back to life, the Gunslinger leaned back over the paper plans. Seemed if he wanted to crack that train, he'd need to do the work the way he was accustomed to...

Alone.

[golden-ghost-gunslinger]

The barest hint of the midday sun peeked through as the figure walked through the doors of the bar, instantly causing all conversations to pause. He was clad boots to hat in all white, with gold streaked up his arms, a pair of pistols on his chest. His hair was black, and his skin was pale, and a knowing smirk played about his lips.

The Golden Ghost had blown into town.

Welcome, folks, to this here blog. Best be on your best behavior, 'less you want your body turned to Swiss cheese real quick.

These are the tags you best be wary of:

#gunslingin - Posting In-Character

#fool speaks - Posting Out of Character

#quickdrawin - Reblogging RP

#ghost speaks - Answering Asks

#wanted posters - Reblogging Pics

#campside tunes - Reblogging Music

#wouldn't not say - Reblogging Incorrect Quotes

#would say - Reblogging Correct Quotes

#golden duel - Reblogging from Other Midases

#golden post - Characters in a Post are equal to 79

And many appreciations to @snippydippy for the portraiture. Thanks, darlin, ya really did capture my good side.