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At an unassuming garage in Topeka, Kansas...

"Hey, could one of you shitheads get me a beer?!"
The booming voice of a hardy young man echoed from under the rusted jalopey he was working on. He was a strong-jawed, handsome young man with naught but a few minor scars, yet still enough to give him the nickname of "Jackknife Jim". After freeing himself from his work for a moment, he angrily searched around for one of his minions to see if any of them had neglected to follow his command. As he searched around the wrecks and reconstructions of cars and motorcycles alike, he had yet to find a one. This chop shop was Jim's base of operations, and an unassuming one at that. Scrappers were a common group to be found in the so-called frontier, though Jim would rather die than scrap some of the beauties he had painstakingly reconstructed. His pride was his 1927 Indian Big Chief, a classic beast that in his own words "Melts panties and petroleum equally". He carefully dusted it off before moving on to looking for his crew again.
"Come on! Are any of you fuckers here yet?" he exclaimed to the seemingly empty room. He had asked for them to be here around this time so they could plan the upcoming "yokel yank", but he had yet to see hide or hair of any of them...

Dima was lounging on the roof multitasking by practicing his lock picks and cleaning his Nagant 1910 when he heard the Boss scream the second time and nearly had a heart attack. Cleaning up his kit and latching it to his side and then skillfully climbing down the building in seconds. Slinking inside the building he made his way to the kitchen knowing that an offering would be a safe bet to appease the Boss. Grabbing the first cold one he could and pouring some stronger stuff into his drinking horn flask, he walked towards the sound of the Boss's thunderous voice.
"Hey Boss" Dima said through his accent, "Sorry I'm a few minutes late, I got you a beer sir" and held the drink out to him

Dima was lounging on the roof multitasking by practicing his lock picks and cleaning his Nagant 1910 when he heard the Boss scream the second time and nearly had a heart attack. Cleaning up his kit and latching it to his side and then skillfully climbing down the building in seconds. Slinking inside the building he made his way to the kitchen knowing that an offering would be a safe bet to appease the Boss. Grabbing the first cold one he could and pouring some stronger stuff into his drinking horn flask, he walked towards the sound of the Boss's thunderous voice.
"Hey Boss" Dima said through his accent, "Sorry I'm a few minutes late, I got you a beer sir" and held the drink out to him

"About damn time, Cossack! Still, you at least had the common decency to fuckin come when called, unlike Punchy n' Chief. Now gimme that draft!"
After chugging down the whole bottle in what was likely a far too short a time for a man intent on keeping his liver, he let out a big moan of satisfaction and turned back toward Dima.
"Now, as your reward you get to help me work on this piece of shit beater I found while the other two take their sweet ass time. If you do well enough I might even let you drive it for a spell, if we can get it running. Now help me get these wheels unloaded, I just had 'em come in from Kansas City."

Frank strolled into the garage, straightening his clothes. He looked around and noticed only two others.

"Hey, Jim. Dima," he said to them as he leaned against a wall. "Looks like I'm still one of the first ones here at least."

Frank strolled into the garage, straightening his clothes. He looked around and noticed only two others.

"Hey, Jim. Dima," he said to them as he leaned against a wall. "Looks like I'm still one of the first ones here at least."

"Punchy, about time your sorry ass got here! Where the hell is the Chief? I swear to god if he don't get here now I'm bringing the motorcycle instead. Dima! Help him clear off that table over there, now that there's three of us we can get to planning the yokel yank."

Midway through Jim's frustrated rant, Joe tromped in, toting a string of 5 grouse. He raised them up as if as a mea culpa to his annoyed boss, then kicked a small, blood-stained wooden bucket over to his usual spot, sat down, and started plucking at the grouse.
They would eat well later.

Midway through Jim's frustrated rant, Joe tromped in, toting a string of 5 grouse. He raised them up as if as a mea culpa to his annoyed boss, then kicked a small, blood-stained wooden bucket over to his usual spot, sat down, and started plucking at the grouse.
They would eat well later.

"At long fuckin last. And he brought us dinner too! Now we can get to work. And before you say anything, the mick chick can catch up whenever she damn feels like. I'm tired o' waitin around."
Pulling out a map from a corner where only he would be able to find it, he rolled it out over the now-cleared table and pointed at a small town to the west that hadn't been paying its dues in 2 months.
"This right here is Salutation, a small town of less than a hundred bumpkins that found it was in their best interest to stop payin old Uncle Rufus. Now since this here is a pretty damn small town I've been charged with leadin' the confrontation. Two small gangs like us will be joinin us in case things get hairy, but this is the first time we're gonna be head group. Then we'll take our whole group around that area and shake down similar problem areas till we head south to Wichita. There we'll get more instructions. Way I heard it somethin' big is comin up in Cherokee territory, but we won't rightly know until that happens and we aren't expected to ask, got it? Good. Now take a piss, pack your shit, and get to the stables. Roads ain't so good goin' west, so the motorbikes stay in the garage. If Annie McOakley decides to tag along, old Jose'll keep em safe, otherwise that's her job. Remember to take anything you might need. We won't be comin back for at least a month."
With that Jim left the table and grabbed the bags he prepared, expecting the others to do the same.

"At long fuckin last. And he brought us dinner too! Now we can get to work. And before you say anything, the mick chick can catch up whenever she damn feels like. I'm tired o' waitin around."
Pulling out a map from a corner where only he would be able to find it, he rolled it out over the now-cleared table and pointed at a small town to the west that hadn't been paying its dues in 2 months.
"This right here is Salutation, a small town of less than a hundred bumpkins that found it was in their best interest to stop payin old Uncle Rufus. Now since this here is a pretty damn small town I've been charged with leadin' the confrontation. Two small gangs like us will be joinin us in case things get hairy, but this is the first time we're gonna be head group. Then we'll take our whole group around that area and shake down similar problem areas till we head south to Wichita. There we'll get more instructions. Way I heard it somethin' big is comin up in Cherokee territory, but we won't rightly know until that happens and we aren't expected to ask, got it? Good. Now take a piss, pack your shit, and get to the stables. Roads ain't so good goin' west, so the motorbikes stay in the garage. If Annie McOakley decides to tag along, old Jose'll keep em safe, otherwise that's her job. Remember to take anything you might need. We won't be comin back for at least a month."
With that Jim left the table and grabbed the bags he prepared, expecting the others to do the same.

Dima promptly grabbed a small bag, checked that all his lock picks were in order and secured to his side, and made one last check that his leather horn flask was full. Walking over to where he'd set his "knife" (looks more like a bloody cavalry sabre mixed with machete) down earlier, he grabbed the beast of a blade and sheathed it to his side while similtantiously slinging a short cavalry rifle too his back. He slipped on a gambeson and turned back towards the group. "I am ready, I'll get the horses saddled" He stated and headed off to do just that

Cary walked in as Dima was walking out, "I heard uh.... What was close to me name. What did ya call me in for? "

"At long fuckin last. And he brought us dinner too! Now we can get to work. And before you say anything, the mick chick can catch up whenever she damn feels like. I'm tired o' waitin around."
Pulling out a map from a corner where only he would be able to find it, he rolled it out over the now-cleared table and pointed at a small town to the west that hadn't been paying its dues in 2 months.
"This right here is Salutation, a small town of less than a hundred bumpkins that found it was in their best interest to stop payin old Uncle Rufus. Now since this here is a pretty damn small town I've been charged with leadin' the confrontation. Two small gangs like us will be joinin us in case things get hairy, but this is the first time we're gonna be head group. Then we'll take our whole group around that area and shake down similar problem areas till we head south to Wichita. There we'll get more instructions. Way I heard it somethin' big is comin up in Cherokee territory, but we won't rightly know until that happens and we aren't expected to ask, got it? Good. Now take a piss, pack your shit, and get to the stables. Roads ain't so good goin' west, so the motorbikes stay in the garage. If Annie McOakley decides to tag along, old Jose'll keep em safe, otherwise that's her job. Remember to take anything you might need. We won't be comin back for at least a month."
With that Jim left the table and grabbed the bags he prepared, expecting the others to do the same.

Dima promptly grabbed a small bag, checked that all his lock picks were in order and secured to his side, and made one last check that his leather horn flask was full. Walking over to where he'd set his "knife" (looks more like a bloody cavalry sabre mixed with machete) down earlier, he grabbed the beast of a blade and sheathed it to his side while similtantiously slinging a short cavalry rifle too his back. He slipped on a gambeson and turned back towards the group. "I am ready, I'll get the horses saddled" He stated and headed off to do just that

"Hey slow down Shiekh of Araby, what the hell are you wearing? You gonna bring a god damned harem with ya or somethin? If you ever want to get some fuckin puss in this century, you might wanna rethink that outfit. Hell, I'll pay for it. Just please for the love of god tell me you brought some normal clothes with you, I don't need the other gangs thinking I've got some nutter wanting to do a charge of the light brigade. And that little chest piece your wearing won't be stopping any bullets, but let's hope it doesn't come to that for your sake and mine."
Turning away after his tirad she caught sight of the mick dentist. "As for you, Nurse McOakley, you can drive all the camp supplies in the cart behind us. Now LOAD EM UP"

"At long fuckin last. And he brought us dinner too! Now we can get to work. And before you say anything, the mick chick can catch up whenever she damn feels like. I'm tired o' waitin around."
Pulling out a map from a corner where only he would be able to find it, he rolled it out over the now-cleared table and pointed at a small town to the west that hadn't been paying its dues in 2 months.
"This right here is Salutation, a small town of less than a hundred bumpkins that found it was in their best interest to stop payin old Uncle Rufus. Now since this here is a pretty damn small town I've been charged with leadin' the confrontation. Two small gangs like us will be joinin us in case things get hairy, but this is the first time we're gonna be head group. Then we'll take our whole group around that area and shake down similar problem areas till we head south to Wichita. There we'll get more instructions. Way I heard it somethin' big is comin up in Cherokee territory, but we won't rightly know until that happens and we aren't expected to ask, got it? Good. Now take a piss, pack your shit, and get to the stables. Roads ain't so good goin' west, so the motorbikes stay in the garage. If Annie McOakley decides to tag along, old Jose'll keep em safe, otherwise that's her job. Remember to take anything you might need. We won't be comin back for at least a month."
With that Jim left the table and grabbed the bags he prepared, expecting the others to do the same.

Dima promptly grabbed a small bag, checked that all his lock picks were in order and secured to his side, and made one last check that his leather horn flask was full. Walking over to where he'd set his "knife" (looks more like a bloody cavalry sabre mixed with machete) down earlier, he grabbed the beast of a blade and sheathed it to his side while similtantiously slinging a short cavalry rifle too his back. He slipped on a gambeson and turned back towards the group. "I am ready, I'll get the horses saddled" He stated and headed off to do just that

"Hey slow down Shiekh of Araby, what the hell are you wearing? You gonna bring a god damned harem with ya or somethin? If you ever want to get some fuckin puss in this century, you might wanna rethink that outfit. Hell, I'll pay for it. Just please for the love of god tell me you brought some normal clothes with you, I don't need the other gangs thinking I've got some nutter wanting to do a charge of the light brigade. And that little chest piece your wearing won't be stopping any bullets, but let's hope it doesn't come to that for your sake and mine."
Turning away after his tirad she caught sight of the mick dentist. "As for you, Nurse McOakley, you can drive all the camp supplies in the cart behind us. Now LOAD EM UP"

Cary calmly said "Doctor, Jim. It's Doctor O'Shannon. And uh, we have a problem with the "camp supplies". My supplier, uhm the guys I get all me medical supplies from up at South Dakota, they're running into some problems. Basically if one of ye gets real banged up, there's very little I can do."

"At long fuckin last. And he brought us dinner too! Now we can get to work. And before you say anything, the mick chick can catch up whenever she damn feels like. I'm tired o' waitin around."
Pulling out a map from a corner where only he would be able to find it, he rolled it out over the now-cleared table and pointed at a small town to the west that hadn't been paying its dues in 2 months.
"This right here is Salutation, a small town of less than a hundred bumpkins that found it was in their best interest to stop payin old Uncle Rufus. Now since this here is a pretty damn small town I've been charged with leadin' the confrontation. Two small gangs like us will be joinin us in case things get hairy, but this is the first time we're gonna be head group. Then we'll take our whole group around that area and shake down similar problem areas till we head south to Wichita. There we'll get more instructions. Way I heard it somethin' big is comin up in Cherokee territory, but we won't rightly know until that happens and we aren't expected to ask, got it? Good. Now take a piss, pack your shit, and get to the stables. Roads ain't so good goin' west, so the motorbikes stay in the garage. If Annie McOakley decides to tag along, old Jose'll keep em safe, otherwise that's her job. Remember to take anything you might need. We won't be comin back for at least a month."
With that Jim left the table and grabbed the bags he prepared, expecting the others to do the same.

Dima promptly grabbed a small bag, checked that all his lock picks were in order and secured to his side, and made one last check that his leather horn flask was full. Walking over to where he'd set his "knife" (looks more like a bloody cavalry sabre mixed with machete) down earlier, he grabbed the beast of a blade and sheathed it to his side while similtantiously slinging a short cavalry rifle too his back. He slipped on a gambeson and turned back towards the group. "I am ready, I'll get the horses saddled" He stated and headed off to do just that

"Hey slow down Shiekh of Araby, what the hell are you wearing? You gonna bring a god damned harem with ya or somethin? If you ever want to get some fuckin puss in this century, you might wanna rethink that outfit. Hell, I'll pay for it. Just please for the love of god tell me you brought some normal clothes with you, I don't need the other gangs thinking I've got some nutter wanting to do a charge of the light brigade. And that little chest piece your wearing won't be stopping any bullets, but let's hope it doesn't come to that for your sake and mine."
Turning away after his tirad she caught sight of the mick dentist. "As for you, Nurse McOakley, you can drive all the camp supplies in the cart behind us. Now LOAD EM UP"

Cary calmly said "Doctor, Jim. It's Doctor O'Shannon. And uh, we have a problem with the "camp supplies". My supplier, uhm the guys I get all me medical supplies from up at South Dakota, they're running into some problems. Basically if one of ye gets real banged up, there's very little I can do."

"Yeah, must've graduated from one of those prestigious medical schools that definitely let in any Irish girl who bats her eyelashes at em. As long as you don't turn into Carrie fuckin Nation we won't have problems, but we ain't goin to South Dakota, so you can buy that shit yourself."

"At long fuckin last. And he brought us dinner too! Now we can get to work. And before you say anything, the mick chick can catch up whenever she damn feels like. I'm tired o' waitin around."
Pulling out a map from a corner where only he would be able to find it, he rolled it out over the now-cleared table and pointed at a small town to the west that hadn't been paying its dues in 2 months.
"This right here is Salutation, a small town of less than a hundred bumpkins that found it was in their best interest to stop payin old Uncle Rufus. Now since this here is a pretty damn small town I've been charged with leadin' the confrontation. Two small gangs like us will be joinin us in case things get hairy, but this is the first time we're gonna be head group. Then we'll take our whole group around that area and shake down similar problem areas till we head south to Wichita. There we'll get more instructions. Way I heard it somethin' big is comin up in Cherokee territory, but we won't rightly know until that happens and we aren't expected to ask, got it? Good. Now take a piss, pack your shit, and get to the stables. Roads ain't so good goin' west, so the motorbikes stay in the garage. If Annie McOakley decides to tag along, old Jose'll keep em safe, otherwise that's her job. Remember to take anything you might need. We won't be comin back for at least a month."
With that Jim left the table and grabbed the bags he prepared, expecting the others to do the same.

Dima promptly grabbed a small bag, checked that all his lock picks were in order and secured to his side, and made one last check that his leather horn flask was full. Walking over to where he'd set his "knife" (looks more like a bloody cavalry sabre mixed with machete) down earlier, he grabbed the beast of a blade and sheathed it to his side while similtantiously slinging a short cavalry rifle too his back. He slipped on a gambeson and turned back towards the group. "I am ready, I'll get the horses saddled" He stated and headed off to do just that

"Hey slow down Shiekh of Araby, what the hell are you wearing? You gonna bring a god damned harem with ya or somethin? If you ever want to get some fuckin puss in this century, you might wanna rethink that outfit. Hell, I'll pay for it. Just please for the love of god tell me you brought some normal clothes with you, I don't need the other gangs thinking I've got some nutter wanting to do a charge of the light brigade. And that little chest piece your wearing won't be stopping any bullets, but let's hope it doesn't come to that for your sake and mine."
Turning away after his tirad she caught sight of the mick dentist. "As for you, Nurse McOakley, you can drive all the camp supplies in the cart behind us. Now LOAD EM UP"

Cary calmly said "Doctor, Jim. It's Doctor O'Shannon. And uh, we have a problem with the "camp supplies". My supplier, uhm the guys I get all me medical supplies from up at South Dakota, they're running into some problems. Basically if one of ye gets real banged up, there's very little I can do."

"Yeah, must've graduated from one of those prestigious medical schools that definitely let in any Irish girl who bats her eyelashes at em. As long as you don't turn into Carrie fuckin Nation we won't have problems, but we ain't goin to South Dakota, so you can buy that shit yourself."

"Oh, no. I don't mean we go run off to Rapid City, but if ye get more than one bullet there's not much I can do, ya hear?"

"Whatever. Just keep an eye on our shit at camp while we head into the towns. God knows we've had enough little furry cocksuckers getting into Dima's potato water"

"Okay, fine. Is that all?"