The volunteers and I were huddled in a cave. The kids were miserable, and I was enjoying every second of their suffering.

My little field trip only included four other people, despite 30 or so signing up for it. Edmundo wanted me to bring the whole damn group with me, and I kindly informed him that 30 fools trampling through the forest would scare away all the game in a 20-mile radius.

Also, I couldn't babysit more than a few at once. Could barely babysit at all, actually.

"How long does this take?!" whined Lilia, who was, unfortunately, part of the first group. She didn't want to come, as she was only interested in shooting. I could understand the sentiment, but I wasn't wasting time teaching someone who would up and die the second they entered the forest alone.

She was currently trying to start a fire using the good-old friction method. I was watching her like a hawk, as I knew the little shit would just use a lighter the second I took my eyes off her.

I was going to answer her question with something sarcastic, but Jorge answered for me. "It's bound to take a while, Lilia, wood on wood takes a lot of friction to ignite. Do you want some help?"

She glared at the stick. "Yeah, get over here!"

Jorge was a member of her age group, which accounted for only a handful of the Chaira. He looked largely human, save for the usual chitinous ridges. No spider legs here, thankfully. He shuffled over to her, placing his pale hands over hers, giving his best smile.

She looked confused. "Wouldn't it be easier to grab the stick?" she asked.

"Oh! Right, good idea," he stammered, blushing slightly.

Ha! Good try, kiddo. Better luck next time.

"Ha! Good try, kiddo. Better luck next time," said Pastor.

I liked the man. He was an old hat, old enough to make mine look factory-new. He was one of those 'genetically engineered' soldiers that Blas mentioned, though it was clear those days were behind him. It didn't take me too long to figure out what 'genetic engineering' entailed, because he looked like a goddamn killing machine.

He was almost seven feet tall and was more chitin than anything else, no skin visible beside his face. He still had normal limbs, but his forearms hid retractable blades, and his fingers claws, like a cat. His face was still largely human-looking, though his skin was gray and wrinkled, as was his hair.

He was still nursing a wound to his waist, one he got by singlehandedly fending off the wave before me. He still insisted on coming since the rest of the group were children. I appreciated the sentiment.

We were both relaxing against the walls of the cave, cigs in hand.

Pastors ran out, and he flicked the remainders onto the stone floor. "Got any more of those 'smokes?'" he asked.

I shrugged and handed him one, which he gladly took. He had only had a few and already looked like he was born with a cigarette between his fingers. Might just be the age.

"Can't believe y'all have all that fancy technology, yet nobody thought to invent em'," I mused out loud.

Pastor scoffed. "We don't have tobacco on Churai, dumbass."

Lilia snorted. "Yeah, dumbass!"

It was my turn to scoff. "Watch your mouth or the drop bear's will getcha."

"What's a drop bear?"

"A dangerous creature that preys on smart-mouthed girls like you."

"Oh yeah? Then what about Pastor?"

I snorted "He ain't a girl, and his mouth ain't very smart.

Pastor smiled, his jaw oddly proportioned. "That's Mr. Pastor to you, young lady."

"Watch the rhythm, please!" interrupted Jorge, still trying his hardest to help her.

I put out my smoke and went to check on Diego. He was the last kid in the group, and was as gloomy as they come. Lillia and Jorge came here with their parents.

Diego did not.

He, like Jorge, looked mostly human. I wondered if they grew new parts as they aged or something, as most of the youngins I've seen didn't have too many extra parts. Too bad I didn't care enough to ask for a biology lesson.

I've taught this group of misfits many things over the last day. Specific plants and properties, how to track, how to hunt, how to skin, bandage, and butcher. All the kinds of information that any man or child should know. Lilia barely took to it at all, but Diego took to it like a fish to water.

No, that wasn't quite right. He was just as out of his element as the rest of the city-slickers, but he had something the other kids didn't. Raw determination. Pure will. He was quiet, focused, and committed.

He stared at the bow in his hands, the one he made himself and used to hunt a deer.

Poor kid. I knew that look in his eyes. It was the look of a child staring at a dead man's gun. Contemplating things no kid should contemplate. It was the prelude to poor and final decisions, the kind that everybody would regret.

Revenge. But that wasn't the real problem. Revenge could be taken, god knows I've gone through hell and high water for that reason alone. But he had nobody. No family and nothing to take revenge on. It was possible his parents were still living it large back on their homeworld, so he couldn't even use them to justify it.

He was just angry and looking for an enemy. He would find one, eventually, as he lowered his standards for what constituted one.

Maybe he would find himself viewing the whole world as an enemy.

"You look like you're looking right through me," said Diego, his voice low and quiet, pulling me out of my stupor.

Apparently I had been staring for a while. "Sorry, kiddo. How's the bow?"

"Good. I like it. It's silent, so it won't disturb any other targets while I'm trying to be sneaky."

"It's so you don't disturb the rest of the animals in the forest, not avoiding alerting sentries. You planning something?"

"No, sir. I was just thinking strategy," he said, looking vaguely guilty.

"Plotting vicious ways to kill your enemies is all well and good, just don't forget who your enemies are. We have monsters scheduled to attack, so it shouldn't be all that hard. Put your energy into those."

He looked angry, despite his admirable attempts at remaining calm. "But...Sir, why learn to use a bow in the first place? They won't be very effective compared to guns."

"It ain't for killing, its for survival. Remember the difference."

"...I don't quite understand," he murmured, hesitantly.

This was one of those moments that younger men wished they could recognize sooner. He made the foolish mistake of opening his heart to me, and my answer would have a lasting impact. What is he looking for? Validation? A father figure? An excuse?

I sighed lightly, and took a knee, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, caught off guard.

"The difference, kid, is the motivation. It sits differently in your gut, you know? People who kill for the sake of killing...they ain't people no more. A man can kill hundreds, or thousands, as long as it was for something, and still be a man. That anger of yours...you can make it go away, but not how you're thinking."

He stared at me, eyes moist.

"Do you have anything you want to protect?" I asked.

He was silent, then shook his head.

"Then find it. That's the day you become a man."

Unlike me.

I was outside, standing watch with Jeff. He was silent as he gazed into the stars. Pastor came to join us, even though it wasn't his turn. The kids were sleeping, huddled up in blankets I mercifully allowed them to bring.

"Thanks for the pep talk. I wasn't quite sure what to say to him."

I grunted.

"Ever have kids?" he asked.

"No."

He waited for me to elaborate, but I didn't. The silence stretched on...and on.

Damn. It was too silent.

I tapped one of my two new revolvers. They had no name, as they were custom made for my particular tastes. Single action still, but with the addition of three times the firepower, and a swing-out cylinder. Six inches of stainless steel, and six shots that could blow through a tree. I still had my Walker, though I moved it to a front holster and kept my new guns in my side holsters.

Pastor noticed my change of demeanor and unslung his rifle, the very same rifle I had tried to shoot on the range. It fit him far more than me. Jeff caught on as well, staying as still and quiet as a hyperactive horse could.

I raised a finger to my lips. I strained my ears, listening for anything questionable. I heard nothing but the snores of Lilia. I glanced back at Pastor.

And saw claws reaching towards his neck from the darkness of the cave lip.

I drew and put a hole where I presumed it's head to be. The crack of gunfire resounded across the hill, and into the cave.

The body of the creature fell from its perch. It was hanging above the cave entrance, waiting for a victim to walk under it. It was clearly the same kind of creature as what we've been dealing with so far, and looked pretty much like a spider with bladed arms. It was about as tall as my knee, and its leg span was as long as a human was tall. Pastor threw the corpse away, wiping green blood off his face as it flew.

Then all hell broke loose.

The forest came alive with skittering, coming from every direction. Jeff had already run back into the cave, and Pastor and I pulled back a little beyond the entrance, limiting the approach of our enemies to only one.

They did not hesitate to use it.

Lilia's screaming was cut off by the sound of ringing as we both opened fire. Shooting in a cave wasn't healthy for the eardrums, but getting cut to ribbons wasn't healthy for the rest of me, so I dealt.

Pastor did the most, his bullets cutting through the flood of spider monsters like wheat to a scythe. My new gun had plenty of firepower, but paled in comparison to his pure rate of fire. Until he had to reload.

He shouted something, which I assume was "RELOADING!", but I couldn't hear, nor did I have time to read lips. I only noticed that the impressive barrage of gunfire had stopped. I had just finished reloading mine, so I had a full six shots.

There were 10 of them charging towards us.

Well, it wasn't like I had to all that accurate anyway. Make that 12 shots.

I drew my second revolver and wielded them both as I opened fire.

Shoot one hand. Thumb the hammer while I shoot with the other hand. Rinse and repeat.

The monsters only took one shot each, the high-caliber ammo destroying whatever limb it so much as grazed. Smoke filled the air as flashes of light illuminated the cave ever further, displaying the splatter of organs in flash lighting. Legs, bodies, blades, blood, it all turned into a haze as I kept firing.

It took me 5 seconds to fire all 12 shots. I missed one, and the extra shot was just overkill. Pastor finished reloading. Apparently the damn gun had an incredibly complicated reloading mechanism.

The kids were huddled in the corner, covering their ears. Jeff had his face stuck in a bedroll since he obviously couldn't.

'Is it over?' mouthed Lilia.

-Combat Over-

-Assessing Performance-

-Skill(s) gained - Dual Wield II -

-Core Progress 62%-

I shrugged.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

Buck Jones

0 CHIPS

Bronze Core Occupation: Vagabond

Stats:

BODY- 1.4

SPEED- 3.5

MIND- 0.9

Skills: Quickdraw III, Take aim III. Penetrating Shot I. Fan the Hammer I. Single-Action III. Dodge I. Dual Wield II.

Traits: Deadeye V.

Unique Skill: Outlaw.