"The hell I don't need that money!" Myra also drew her weapon in response to the smelly man from before and pointed it at him. A second man also threw his hat in the ring and through the progressions this ended up being an old western standoff that Myra often read about in one of the few books she had growing up. "Come to your senses now! That man right there even says that it is mine." She pointed to the tin man she had dragged into the Pumphouse earlier. Somehow the two had some weird stranger bond going on but she was grateful for his input. "If you want proof, I got your proof. One hundred and eighty dollars. You'll even find my favorite trinket in there at the bottom. A single dime and you bet your ass, that I know what is in there. I count that thing every night because it is of the utmost importance to me and you'll be hard pressed to find anyone else who could make an guess like that!" She snapped her finger at him, demanding the satchel. Myra always kept a twenty on her person and out of the satchel just in case. You never know when you'd need emergency funds.

Garsin chuckled, if there was anything he would have no part of, it was someone trying to threaten him. He placed his helmet back an and latched it. He stood up, the pain was instantly there, but if he didn't act, someone innocent could get hurt, or worse. He decided to call Twix's bluff and he picked up his sword, handing it to Myra. "Hold on to this for a moment, please. Alright then." he said turning toward Twix, "what will a few more bullets do?" Garsin started to slowly walk his way toward him. As he passed Adrian, he grabbed the satchel and shoved it in Adrian's hands, tipped the table over, motioning him to get down as he resumed toward Twix.

"wu-oh! looks like Rusty here want's to play the hero, ain't one to mess around is Rusty, bit overconfident is our Rusty though, left his sword with his little squire"

Twix paused a moment to nod in Myra's direction and swig another shot of whatever he was drinking.

"You do have to wonder what he thinks he's gonna do when he get's here, maybe that's why he's walking so slow, hasn't quite figured out how he's gonna go about clambering over the bar in his shit-tin suit, don't think I'll waste bullets on this, a knife through the visor works aswell, I do hope no one will mind if I miss the funeral."

Twix placed his drink on the bar which was quickly followed by his knife, his gun didn't waver from Adrian, Knife on the table Twix could pick up his drink again and did.

Garsin just simply used the little door at the end of the bar counter. "Never talk back to an opponent," he could remember his father telling him years ago, "They crave for an opening when they try to talk. Instead, use their loud mouth as an opening against them." When Garsin came within arms reach of Twix, he watched for Twix's shoulders and hips for any movement.

If Twix would make a strike with his knife he would deflect the strike at Twix's wrist with the back of his own. In that movement, he could catch the man's wrist and deal a palm blow to his elbow, breaking his arm and forcing him to drop the weapon. He would then kick the knife away and attempt to grapple the man to the floor, putting his knee in the small of his back. from there he would commence in trying to disarm the gun.

If he tried to turn the gun, he planned to shield himself with his gauntlet and then back hand the gun away, he would then use the same arm to launch a blow to the man's head with a hammer fist, keeping his other arm ready to deflect the blade should he try it then as well.

If he tried to kick, he would grab his leg and sweep the other from under him.

If he didn't react at all, he would keep the knife-side arm in a defensive manner and get in close. should he try to use the knife then, he would grab his arm with the outside arm and turn his chest parallel to that arm. He would bring his right arm up and then bring his metal elbow crashing down on Twix's head.

The glass on his helmet had already been shot at, he smirked at the thought of a knife doing anything other than nicking the outside. However, Garsin never underestimated any enemy. To him nobody ever died from overestimating a foe. Even though, to Garsin, the man seemed drunk, he was on full alert, sweet adrenaline kicking in.

Garsin then engaged Twix.

((OOC:Editted for my horrible late night grammar, egad))

Thalia worked quickly and professionally; carefully lifting the man's torso so she could look for exit wounds. There were none. Making sure the man was flat again she began pulling out all the debris with a sterilized pair of tweezers and forceps. Most weren't that deep so they made fast work of most of them. "If you had medical facilities i'd suggest getting him over there, but i'm not sure he could survive the trip anyway. Too much potential for debris to lacerate the inside of his body. The last and biggest piece she got to was worryingly close to the heart. It had entered his body through the shoulder and tunneled downwards. Taking a deep breath, she explored him with the tweezers, eventually coming into contact with the shard. Using the minutest amount of force Thalia dislodged the metal plate and began ever so slowly bringing it to the surface. "We don't have a lot of time, start stitching up the puncture wounds." She said, taking a small case from her medical bag and sliding it along the floor toward the man.

"No medical facilities that I know of. I saw someone who might have been a doctor take a machete to the face..." Flint took the needle and thread."Seems the only thing I have been doing for the last hour is stitching" Flint joked as he began to get to work "there is another man who was pretty beat up, he is stitched up now but maybe you could give him the once over.,.. im sure we could all do with it to be honest" Flint tied off a piece of thread as he got to work on a second laceration. "I wouldn't go into The Pumphouse yet though" Flint nodded his head towards the building "Some kind of Mexican stand off over some money.... " Flint sighed remembering how desperate they all looked. "So what brings you to town?" Flint asked adding idle chit chat as they began to fix up the man.

With a satisfying squelch, the final piece of shrapnel popped free. Thalia threw it over her shoulder. "Oh, you know. This and that. I'm running low on water." Splashing a small dose of antiseptic over the wound, she nicked the needle from the man and quickly pulled her patient's flesh together. "That looks to be everything, he needs water and rest and antibiotics." She said, looking up and smiling at the man. She took in her surroundings for the first time at this juncture. They were in a closed off street block, littered with bodies. Evidence of a gunfight was everywhere, from the gunshots in the pure concrete walls of neighboring shops to the stench of gunpowder in her nostrils. "Next." She said, picking up her medical bag and jogging to a wounded woman. She squatted beside her and gave her the once over; her throat had been improperly cut and she could do nothing to save her. The woman opened her eyes, blood bubbling from her mouth. Thalia slowly unholstered her weapon and making sure the woman couldn't see it, put it to her head and pulled the trigger. The sound was quiet, like a car door being shut, but the woman's head was thrown sideways as she took the full impact of the 9mm round.

"Well when the shop is up and running again I'm sure you could get some. They have a lake nearby which they purify i think" Flint looked to the man "You know he will die within the next week anyway... the wasteland is a place where the weak or wounded die.." Flint said to the woman as she jogged to another 'patient' "Looks like I'm going to be here awhile" Flint grumbled as he began to follow the woman. He witnessed the mercy killing but could only think of the bullet she had wasted. "Your going to need a lot of ammunition..." Flint said thinking of all the other survivors who where still barely alive. "Maybe we should get some people to round up any survivors, maybe set up somewhere as a makeshift field hospital ?" Flint asked

Thalia looked up at the man from on her knees, where she had just closed the eyes of the dead woman. Her eyes held a hint of anger. "He'll live. He just needs attention. No wonder everyone's dying if you don't at least give them a chance." She holstered her trusty Welrod. He did had a point; although she had accumulated quite a few loose rounds rattling around the bottom of her pack, if she shot every dying person in here she'd be out of ammo without a doubt. Moving aside the woman's blood stained coat, Thalia found a leather knife holster, complete with small hunting knife. Carefully, as if the woman was only sleeping, Thalia loosened it up and pulled it clear of her. Holding it up for the man to examine Thalia said: "Happy? no more wasting bullets. Looks a little like my last knife... A field hospital sounds like a good idea, we need able bodied people to clear up this mess."

She could hear a faint commotion from somewhere close, but apart from that she could find no one out on the street. A few pale faces peered out from behind threadbare curtains up in the flats above. They stared down like wary owls. Thalia looked around for anyone else that might need attention, there were several. Getting off her knees she rushed off to a child who had begun sobbing in the doorway of a house.

The slow giant had finally found his way around the bar and was approaching Twix at the far end, When the giant finally arrived next to Twix, he dodged the few clumsy swipes the giant threw and hopped over the bar, supporting himself with his left arm so not to stretch his wounds and grabbing his knife as he landed.

"I would have just used my boot" Flint said in response to the knife as he looked back to the tavern. "Well we will probably have to wait until the stand off in The Pumphouse has cleared up.." Flint remarked "They are some able bodied people in there" Flint followed the woman to a young child. A rare thing to see in the wasteland due to the mortality rates of children. They made Flint think about childhood and how he was brought up , stuck in a small cramped room eating rations and playing board games. He couldn't decide if it was any better out here in the wasteland.

Thalia swept up beside the child, sitting on the step next to them and gingerly touching their arm. "What's up sweetie, are you hurt?" She asked, lifting the boy's chin so he was looking her in the eye. His face was red from all the crying. "My arm hurts!" He sniffed, raising it so she could see. A bullet had grazed it, tearing all the skin off to reveal pink flesh underneath; it had already got dirty so Thalia produced some anti-septic wipes. "This might sting a little okay?" She asked in her most reassuring tone. The little boy nodded bravely, his face crinkled up in anticipation. Thalia deftly cleaned the wound while he struggled to fight back the tears. "There we are, all done. Do you want a sticker?" Thalia asked sweetly, quickly bandaging the boy's arm. His sad eyes immediately perked up, he nodded furiously.

"Okay. Which would you like?" The doctor asked, producing a tattered sticker card with lots of different cartoon animals on them. "What are they?" the boy asked curiously, looking intently at the different ones. "This one's an elephant, that's a gazelle and i think that one's a lion." Thalia explained, drawing on knowledge from the books her dad had kept lying around. "That one! He's funny!" The boy giggled, pointing to the elephant, who was riding a unicycle. Thalia unpeeled it and gently stuck it to the boy's lapel before giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Go find safety, i'll come check on you later." The boy nodded, retreating back inside. Thalia stood up again and looked at the man who had been helping her. "Where to now?"

Viktor had taken a few steps away from the group when the girl had come barging through the door. Viktor tried to remain on the sidelines and events unfolded, but could no longer do so when the armored fellow began swinging at Twix. Before another move could be made Viktor found himself drawing his own pistol and shouting, "That's enough!"

After a moment of silence in the Pumphouse, Viktor continued, "If you sorry bastards are willing to kill eachother over faded green paper, fine. Do it on your own time though. I do not enjoy the idea of the money being her's, but if it is, there is not much we can do about it unless you want to turn into nothing better than a raider. Adrian, check the bag for what she said. And Twix, I saved your life, but I can just as easily end it." Viktor was tired of these games being played. He had seen too many people die over money, and while he did not necessarily enjoy killing, he was able to pull the trigger without so much as a second thought when the time came. While he tried to put value on the lives of others, his always would come out on top regardless of the circumstances.

Just Twix's luck to run into a bunch of morale heroes, still it wasn't all bad.

He winked at Adrian... and pulled the trigger. There was a click and nothing happened.

"oops"

He spun himself back to the bar, a little wobbly on his feet and sat himself down opposite Rusty, retrieving his intact drink from the bar.

"Sup Rusty, I'm Twix"

Flint watched the whole array and didn't feel like he was helping by watching and reminiscing his own childhood. He looked around and saw a large area just beside the gates, a old car park maybe... "I will start dragging the bodies..." Flint remarked standing up and walking to the woman before. He took off her shoes and any other valuables then began to drag her to the Parking lot, after doing so he continued to do this, placing the shoes and any valuables in a pile on the street as he piled up the corpses.

By now Adrian had been pointed at, with several guns, throughout this Mexican stand-off, and still his hands were clutching his revolver and the satchel filled with money. It was as a few of them had stated, sickly of them have this upcoming shoot-out just because of the faded green paper, but first of all had Adrian never had so much money in his hands before, and then it was her, Myra. He could have dropped the money long ago and just walked away, but Myra had made a fool of him, and now he was close to getting payback.

Adrian was surprised as the armoured man walked past him and tipped over a table, but understood what he meant by it. It was however not until Twix pulled the trigger that Adrian ducked down behind the table, ready for the immense pain of being shot somewhere in the chest but never came. Twix said oops, clearly amused by the entire situation, but Adrian just sat down and tried to gather his thoughts once again. Then he realized what he could do, what his payback would be.

He started to count the money as he still sat down behind the table, and stood up when he was done. "180 dollars...You were right, here you have it. I swear, if I find out it's dirty money, you will pay. Now get out of here, and never come back." Adrian said aggressively to Myra, throwing her the satchel and making his way out of the tavern and out onto the main street. Out there he saw Flint and a unknown woman start to clear the street for bodies, a sad business after such a brutal day as this, though important. "I'll be right back to help, looks like you need some help!" Adrian yelled at them as he turned a corner and started to run back home. As he ran, he smiled for himself and chuckled quietly. "Fine, I didn't take those faded pieces of paper, but I sure would love to see that bitch without her precious trinket." He whispered to himself, thinking about the small trinket that he so easily had picked out of the satchel and put in his pocket. Sure, it wasn't anything of too much value, but right now he felt satisfied with his revenge.

Soon he came running back to the main street finding Flint and the unknown woman, and started dragging a corpse over to where Flint had dragged. The trinket he didn't have on him anymore, he was smart enough to have hid it. Where? Only he knew, and he wasn't telling.

"Good thing you got out the tavern, it's a madhouse in there, that Twix guy is a real nut." He said to Flint, before turning towards the woman. "Welcome to Aurora's End, not a very good day to visit really. Name's Adrian Whitestone, who are you?"

Jason had been wrong. He wasn't the luckiest dude on the planet. The dumb fuck that stood before him was. He had taken his place as the luckiest man alive all because that wink had given Jason just enough doubt not to squeeze the trigger of his shotgun temporarily, which also happened to be just enough time to hear the gun's empty sound and no round leaving the tool. The man was stupid, that was undeniable. What the excuses for his stupidity happened to be who knew but Jason would have guessed the drink he had been consuming had something to do with it. Then again even drunks weren't that foolish. Who knew. Jason no longer cared, the situation had calmed down and everything seemed to have been resolved.

Right now he was on an adrenaline come down and he didn't even care where the woman might have gotten her hands on the kind of money she happened to have. Maybe she sold the town out to the bandits. There was no evidence of anything anyway so he couldn't exactly kill her for it. Well, he could, but he wasn't going to. That would be dumb after just getting out of another stupid situation. Instead he walked to the bar, grabbed a bottle of drink and returned to a table. He took a few swigs before unloading his shotgun to see just how many shells he had in there. There was three. Jason inspected them, they all seemed to be in decent condition. He re-loaded the weapon with five shells before making the weapon ready once again.

Getting his shit together along with the bottle of drink he had taken he left the Pump House with no words but with a plan to return to where he had been only an hour earlier; the house he had scouted from atop of. Quickly getting there and to the top of the building he simply sat, his legs hanging off the side. Not too far off he saw the figure of a woman and two men, each of them going about what seemed to be jobs. The woman was either treating or mercy killing those who had been struck down in the chaos and one of the men was dragging bodies; the unluckiest ones... Cleaning up the town. Noble.

“Hey, you need any more help?” Jason yelled, not quite ready to settle down for the night and feeling somewhat responsible since he himself had made at least three of the corpses.

Garsin leaned back in a chair and took off his helmet, letting it hang from it's hose. He gave the odd drunken man a quizzical look, one eyebrow raised. "Garsin." He replied giving his name. He reached back and grabbed a drink. He tossed an appropriate payment under the counter to "pay" for it, just so he could say it wasn't stealing. He held the bottle up to Twix and took a swig. As long as the drunk was like this, then they had nothing to worry about....accept that light headed feeling that keep coming to haunt him. He set the bottle down, pretty sure that if he drank the bottle with as little blood as he had now, it might not end up very well for his health.