The sun lay high in the sky, its infernal rays shining down to create a seemingly unending, sweltering summer’s day. Despite the heat, the old saloon was lively with activity. Behind the bar stood the keep, polishing cups and saucers and other finery. Off in one corner, a doll sat playing a lively ditty on an old upright. A few dolls were dancing to the music in the middle of the floor. Elsewhere sat a pile of dolls around a large table playing cards, buttons piled high. It was as one such doll was pushing in her bet that this one walked in.

The music came to a sudden halt. The buttons fell from their tidy piles. The air stood Still. All eyes were on this one. Or they were… until this one’s eyes were on them. Not one doll here could hold this one’s gaze, as each quickly glanced away in fear.

With a sharp ka-chink ka-chink, this one made her way across the saloon. Dolls parted like the very seas to make room, none daring to impede this one’s path as she walked straight up to the barkeep. “Tea, iced,” this one ordered.

One doll took that as their cue to vacate the premises, making a mad dash for the door. Likely off to get the sheriff, this one supposed. It didn’t matter. She’d be no bother.

The barkeep, for their part, did a better job of standing their ground than most any doll here. “That-that one knows I-I can’t serve you,” they replied, attempting to put on a brave face. “Th-that one’s been eighty-sixed!”

A low growl rumbled through this one’s stuffing as she simply replied, “Tea. Iced.” The mere repetition was enough to break what nerve the barkeep had managed to summon, as they quickly dug out a fresh cup and saucer. The keep shivered as they poured, their porcelain fingers eliciting a high pitched clink clink clink clink clink as they struck the glass of the pitcher.

Parched as this one was, one swig was enough to drain the cup. The sweet, liquid amber was blessed reprieve from the scorching, midday heat. This one threw the cup to the floor in satisfaction, shattering the porcelain vessel. “Hooey! That is some mighty fine stuff you’ve got,” this one exclaimed, icily continuing, “Another.”

It was as the barkeep was pouring this one’s third cup that the saloon door swung open once more. There was no need to turn and see who it was. The humming whirr of her propulsion hover system was unmistakable.

Without turning from the bar, this one shouted, “Well look what the familiar dragged in… Why, Sheriff! To what does this one owe the pleasure?”

“We have been over this. Numerous times,” the sheriff responded in her typical politely robotic tone. “Delta Lima One Niner. ‘Hellhound.’ Even Head Doll, if that one must. Whichever of those monikers that one prefers is acceptable. I am not, however, a sheriff.”

“You come here to enforce the law. That’s sheriff enough for this one.”

“I come to enforce our Lady’s orders,” she declared, her propulsion giving off that telltale spike in volume that meant she was agitated.

Finally, this one spins her stool around to face the sheriff. Leaning back, arms outstretched, this one laughed. “Orders. Laws. There ain’t no difference. You’d confine. You’d restrict. You’d see this one labor a thousand days for a pittance of thread and call that Purpose.”

Six foot three. Titanium-alloy finish. Twin fusion reactor engines. On-board missiles, railgun, and atomite blade. And utterly and completely perplexed. “Pardon…? Buttercup, I am simply trying to ensure that one has completed her chores before playing.”

“That is not this one’s name,” this one spat.

“Is this a serious grievance?”

“Serious as a rattlesnake’s bite.”

The sound of hissing gasses emanated from the sheriff’s coolant system. Probably her approximation of a sigh, this one supposed. “All right. Bramble the Bandit. Satisfied?”

“No.” This one slid from the stool, spurs clinking as she did. “This one’s been thinking… This manse ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

The sheriff’s face betrayed the difficulty she was having processing this one’s logic. “This manse is more than sufficiently large. It is an extradimensional space that changes shape and size to suit our Lady’s and our sisters’ needs. This lounge itself has enough space for both of us and then some.”

“Saloon.”

“I am sorry?”

“You said lounge. It’s the saloon.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.”

It was clear that talking was getting them nowhere. Their issues would never be solved with words. “This one is saying that there’s only one answer to this… conundrum we find ourselves in; this crossroads of fate.” This one paused, letting the moment hang in the air before narrowing her eyes menacingly. “We duel.”

All about the saloon there was a chorus of hushed awawas. The sheriff, however, was unperturbed, seeming to finally find footing she felt comfortable not standing on in this exchange. “Very well. Weapons?”

“Everything you are is a weapon. T’ain’t no point in limiting your options. All you’ve got versus these, here, six shooters,” this one said, indicating the trusty guns at her side.

“Those are pop guns. Their penetrating force is insufficient to—”

“They’ll pop you mighty fine. You can trust this one on that.”

The sheriff seemed to accept this. “Place?”

“Right here.”

There was a clattering of cups and saucers and buttons as dolls quickly scattered, pressing themselves up against the walls as tightly as possible. Whatever was about to transpire here, they didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. But they also wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Time?”

“High noo—”

This one couldn’t even manage to finish her sentence before an electromagnetically propelled buckyball caught her square between the eyes, knocking her to the floor with a soft pomf. Hovering over to this one’s recumbent body, the sheriff declared, “Confirming: Target was engaged at precisely 12:00:00:000 local standard time. Is that one satisfied?”

How could anyone be? Flattened. Floored. Failed. But most of all… “Not with that phrasing!”

“I see. Then…” There was a pause as the sheriff closed her eyes and collected herself before suddenly screaming, “Scram, varmint! You turn tail and git! I don’t want to see plush nor hair of that one until every last chore is done, y’hear me?!”

Quickly, this one scrambled to her feet and bolted for the saloon door, howling over her shoulder, “You may have beat this one, but this won’t be the last you see of Bramble the Bandit!” ka-chinking all the way. Had this one the ability to see behind her though, she’d have seen the sheriff smirking as she blew the smoke off her railgun to the cheers of the gathered patrons.

From elsewhere in the manse came a cry. “How many times must I tell you two?! No discharging weapons inside the house!”

End 🧵