Universe
You approacha silver hub shop which judging from the metallic tankards outside looks to be an armory. Right now, you are armless and although you don't have any money either, perhaps there is a way you can negotiate or trade something. You have a few energy credits which would come in use if you still had a cruiser but are useless to you now. As you approach the door, a dirty blinking sensory bar scans you and beeps. The door slides open.
You step into a dirty white room, with guns lined up behind a counter at the far end. You also spy a jetpack, a rocketlauncher, and some crude body armor suits. Then you feel the cold barrel of a gun pointed behind your head.
"Hold right there, son. Don't take another step," comes a gruff voice.
"I come in peace," you assure him.
"I don't care much about that. Where you from and what d'you know about my Grandola?" He is losing patience as he nudges the barrel against your skull.
"I don't know what that means. I come from Darista as a Universal Ranger, sent here on a planetary mission from the Government. I've never heard of a Grandola."
The man chuckles. "Ranger, eh? I bet you've never seen one of these then. All y'all train for nowadays is those fancy shmancy laser guns. Well, some of us still have our old customs."
The man, who you now see is a human with a large moustache and beard, shoves a gun under your nose. It is made to hold bullets, something you've only vaguely heard of in history classes.
"These here silver bullets, they'll still knock your brains around. Make no mistake. Gettin em run through by steel is just as bad as gettin em fried, I'm sure."
"Now listen, here's what you're gonna do for me," he goes on. "There's a father and daughter who run the bike shop down the alley. I want you to be the one to kill 'em. Those damn bastards took my Grandola, I know it. I goddam know it."
"I will not do that," you say defiantely.
He pulls something that makes his gun give a clicking sound. "Too bad then, son. You coulda lived another day."
He's going to pull the trigger this time.
You step into a dirty white room, with guns lined up behind a counter at the far end. You also spy a jetpack, a rocketlauncher, and some crude body armor suits. Then you feel the cold barrel of a gun pointed behind your head.
"Hold right there, son. Don't take another step," comes a gruff voice.
"I come in peace," you assure him.
"I don't care much about that. Where you from and what d'you know about my Grandola?" He is losing patience as he nudges the barrel against your skull.
"I don't know what that means. I come from Darista as a Universal Ranger, sent here on a planetary mission from the Government. I've never heard of a Grandola."
The man chuckles. "Ranger, eh? I bet you've never seen one of these then. All y'all train for nowadays is those fancy shmancy laser guns. Well, some of us still have our old customs."
The man, who you now see is a human with a large moustache and beard, shoves a gun under your nose. It is made to hold bullets, something you've only vaguely heard of in history classes.
"These here silver bullets, they'll still knock your brains around. Make no mistake. Gettin em run through by steel is just as bad as gettin em fried, I'm sure."
"Now listen, here's what you're gonna do for me," he goes on. "There's a father and daughter who run the bike shop down the alley. I want you to be the one to kill 'em. Those damn bastards took my Grandola, I know it. I goddam know it."
"I will not do that," you say defiantely.
He pulls something that makes his gun give a clicking sound. "Too bad then, son. You coulda lived another day."
He's going to pull the trigger this time.