EPISODE CXXII - ATTACK OF THE SOMNAMBULISTIC PLATYPUS
VanTedly re holstered his weapon, having spent one round dislodging the pistol from the Sheriff's hand. He, Lt. Scott, and the two commandos began to move slowly forward, still
somewhat shocked at the violent nature of Mr. Jeffy's seeming demise. They could see Corporal Orwig standing ominously over Doody's prone form, as well as the slow deliberate movements of Reed as he drew
his own revolver.
"What's he doing?", Number Two asked, able to note the determined set of the commander's jaw even from their distance.
"Just cleaning up.", Broski replied hollowly.
The lieutenant caught his meaning with some surprise. "He can't just kill the Sheriff.", he said forcefully, casting about at the others for some support.
None was forthcoming.
A hundred feet away, Reed thumbed back the hammer of his weapon and aimed it at the sheriff's broad back.
"Any last words, traitor?"
Inarticulate sobs met his request as Doody shuddered on the dry earth. The muscles in Reed's forearm tensed as he began the slow trigger pull, relishing the resistance of the mechanism.
"Hold it right there, pole-cat.", an oddly feminine voice called from above.
Reed allowed his finger to relax on the trigger as his gaze drifted away from the sheriff and up to where the remark had originated. He was struck by the absurdity of their circumstances as his eyes came
to rest on an attractive brunette standing above them on a balcony, twin chrome pistols clutched threateningly in her delicate hands. She was a dressed fashionably in a deep red, low bodice gown, yet her
stance and eyes made him think of a coiled snake.
"Drop the gun, Marshal", she ordered confidently, "or I'll put one right between your eyes."
