Gun-Man

Lawman

Junction City, Industrial Zone

"I fucking swear if my coffee isn't ready, you'll be thinking hell is cold, Julia!" Silas Roman roared as he buckled on his belt and began descending the stairs from the loft of the abandoned warehouse that currently served as his base of operations. This was where he'd been living the past few months, first by himself, during which it had fallen to disrepair, and then with Julia, his 18-something year old save/secretary/adopted daughter/irritating leftist that now acted as his housekeeper after refusing to leave for a week straight. By this point she'd been with Silas for three months, and he'd given up trying to make her move.

When Silas reached the bottom of the stairs, he glanced around for Julia, ticked off and ready for action. She really had fixed his base up. There was no more 3-inch-thick layer of dust coating everything, the old research files Silas had completed missions on had been thrown out and the new ones pinned neatly to a cork board beside a sleek new desk Julia had bought for herself. She'd replaced all the lights so that the place was no longer a dimly-lit nightmare, and cleared all the trash left by the homeless living here before Silas. Even his guns, which Julia was horrified at his collection of, were orderly and neat on the rack on the left wall, along with the rest of the stuff Silas had bought from the Afghani.

Silas found Julia at her desk, face buried an open file, fast asleep. Silas cursed. Now he felt bad, which he hated. Eyeing Julia warily, he shook her awake as gently as a former Marine Raider could, being sure to not seem too nice. He really didn't want her to think he wanted her here, after all.

Julia lifted her head and blinked groggily. She was disoriented for a moment, but once her eyes focused on Silas' face, she mustered all of the alertness she had and stood abruptly.

"Hey, Empire. Sleep well?" Julia asked sweetly.

Silas glared at her. "Coffee."

Julia folded her arms and glared back. "I'm not some 1950's housewife. Buy your own coffee, fuckwad."

Silas clenched his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut. "The Lord gives his toughest tests to his strongest warriors," he whispered to himself.

Julia eyed him critically. "You know that's a meme, not a profession of faith, right? Also, 'the Lord' is fake. Also, got the address for the storage house. The DEA files had the informant's contact information, so I just gave him a call, pretended I was a debriefing agent or whatever. Not that hard, really. I don't know why you struggle with these things so much."

Silas' eyes blazed. "A 1950's housewife can't have been half as annoying as you." He stormed off in a fit to go strap on his gear.

Just remembering something, Julia jumped out of her chair. "Another thing! There's some chatter on the police scanner about some federal agent or another visiting. Goes by the name of 'Lawman' I think."

Silas froze mid-stride. He turned slowly and deliberately. "Called 'Lawman'?"

Junction City, Grand Plaza Police Headquarters

Officers Harris and Wang were throwing darts.

They were sitting around the small breakroom table, the one with the loose leg that inevitably caused one to lose their food to the slightest breeze, gossiping and playing. The scent of stale, instant coffee and a leftover chocolate-frosted doughnut permeated the air here, the only room where there weren't dozens of people bustling back and forth, busting their asses trying to prepare for the mayor's arrival.