Seven Degrees [Roger]

[Dexter Shield]

[Ariel Docks, March 1st, 2523. 0900 Local Time]

Shield sat on a crate, and watched the world go by. It had been a week or so, since he had left the Raven, and he hadn't found anything, yet. Dexter didn't mind though, he was content to just sit and wait, for now. He glanced across the hustle of the docks, and then he saw it, or rather him. There was a man, who looked familiar, or rather his silhouette looked familiar. Shield stood, leaning on his staff, and grabbed his bag. He made his way after the man, and hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

"Could it be?" He wondered, as he walked quickly after the man. "After all these years, to meet again here." He was within speaking distance, and he called out. "Excuse me," He smiled, "Is that you Lieutenant?"

[Roger Davis]

Roger was back on Ariel after his short cruise around the 'verse. It had been a little shorter than he'd anticipated but fate had a way of bringing him back to Ariel on the Rayya, and Roger was not the type to question fate. So now the gunhand turned de facto captain found himself once again in a busy port while weighed down by many of his worldly possessions.

He had been desperate to get off Paquin, a world with some bad memories and a few more recent and pressing concerns that discouraged long stays. Although Ariel was a Core world so far removed from the gypsy planet, the situation was very much the same here, part of the reason Roger had departed for his trip in the first place instead of waiting around and enjoying what the Core had to offer. The Core meant both federal law enforcement and war time grudges, neither of which promised anything pleasant for Roger.

It was coming from this frame of mind that he was startled and seriously considered reaching for his iron before turning round. Someone calling him at all, and using his war-time rank as well, indicated the high probability of a fed squad ambush. Luckily, this turned out to be the only other possibility, the rare chance that he ran into a war-time acquaintance on a Core world.

It took a second for Roger to make that realization but as soon as he had decided the voice was a friend, he also managed to fit the voice to a face. It was nearly the same introduction that the shepherd had uttered twelve years prior on their first meeting. "Looking to hitch a ride again?" Roger asked as he turned to face Shield.

[Dexter Shield]

Shield knew he had been correct. Even before the man spoke, the way he reacted was proof enough. Dexter leaned heavily on his staff, the long days without much relief had been making his old wounds, and old age, get to him. He had to chuckle a bit at the first words his old acquaintance said, however. "I am looking to go wherever the wind may take me." He said, casually. Stepping up and putting a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "But you could say I am in need of transportation." He smiled, "And since you don't have a posse of young men this time..." He hoisted his bag higher on his back, and indicated the direction Roger had been walking. "Lead the way."

As they headed off, Shield looked over at his new companion. "So, what have you done with yourself these past few years?" He asked as they plodded along, glad to see that he hadn't indeed been killed that day so many years ago. His next words were quiet. "I told you you didn't need last rites." He smiled, somewhat saddened.

[Roger Davis]

The shepherd still had a way of politely imposing his will on people, not even waiting for a response. "My posse didn't seem to deter you last time." Roger replied as he turned to keep walking. "... I also had a few trucks back then."

Shield's question about his life forced Roger to reflect a bit. It was not the tranquil life of peace that the shepherd had hoped for back in that field hospital twelve years past. He'd tried that, or at least some form of that, and it didn't work out all too well. For better or worse, Roger was now a man of action and possibly always had been even before the war. "I've indeed traveled a great many miles more. Done it with my own two legs too." He patted the limb where, when Shield had last seen it, it had been dangling by a bloody strand.

"I've gotten around, preacher. Not much time spent back home unfortunately. Been doin' my best to help folk as best I know how. Spent time on a few ships as a hired hand; worked as a privateer against slavers and the like; was a deputy in a small town and even a uniformed officer in a big city." Roger summarized eleven years of varied carriers as best as he could. "You still been driftin' around directed by Providence to wherever you're needed? he asked.

[Dexter Shield]

Shield smiled as Roger spoke, and he nodded in reference to the leg. "That is wonderful." He said, with a smile. Then the man started off again.

"Oh i am drifting, that is certain." He said, with a little chuckle. "Providence may have had a say in it, who knows?" He patted Roger on the back. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see wont we?" He smiled, knowing he had been vague in his speech, but that was the plan. No need to tell too much.

The shepherd looked around as they walked, and his eyes took in all there was to see. He never liked to miss things. "Even if your Posse didn't slow me down," He said softly, pointing off ahead. "Those men might." There was a group of seedy looking men standing ahead, and looking right at them. "Never a dull moment."

[Roger Davis]

Roger followed the shepherd's gaze to the group. It didn't matter where you went. The Core had the same problems as the Rim. Fancier buildings and more government officials did not prevent the cancers of society and in many cases exacerbated them. They'd fought a war over this type of thing you know.

"I'd think most would be deterred," Roger stated, "Either by the man of God or the man he's with who happens to be carrying eight guns presently." As they were now only a very short distance away, Roger dropped his bags and prepared for what seemed like an imminent confrontation.

[Dexter Shield]

Shield set his feet as the men approached, casting a wry glance at Roger. "Guns and bibles, if only it were so easy." He looked back at the men who approached. There were 4 men, who he could see. He had learned form his many years never to take things for their face value right off the bat. "Can I help you boys?" He asked, with a pleasant smile.

"Listen." The tallest of the men said, in a gruff voice. "I don't want any trouble see... we just needs to get this over with." He grinned, "So cough up."

"Well Roger." Dexter said, dropping his bag and taking a firm hold on his staff. "It looks like we have a choice." He raised an eyebrow. The shepherd didn't really care for violence, but he wasn't a fool. Trying to talk these men out of their actions would just end with a bullet. "After you Lieutenant."

[Roger Davis]

"The only thing that is going to be 'coughed up' is blood." Roger replied to the man's demand. "Yours." With that, Roger flicked his wrist and sent the hard leather scabbard of his shotgun flying forward off the weapon and into the lead thief's throat. He followed that attack up with a powerful kick to the gut before smashing the hilt of his weapon into the jaw of a second attacker that had charged forward.

Although resorting to a firearm from the get-go, Roger was hopeful that they could avoid shooting and manage to beat these men down the old fashioned way. Still, the quick draw gave Roger the advantage in case any of the others decided they'd rather escalate things. It even had the chance of scaring the thieves off once they saw that their prey was not as defenseless as initial imagined. Quickly neutralizing half of their number probably would help with that. Hopefully Shield was managing to hold his own and react with similar speed and shock value.

[Dexter Shield]

Even as Roger moved to engage the foes, the second two went after Dexter. "I'm getting too old for this," He grumbled, as they came charging at him. The larger of the two arrived first, and although his blind swing was deflected by Dexter's staff, the impact knocked the shepherd back a step. The second man tried to press the advantage, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Dexter kicked out just as the man got ready to punch, and the momentum of his charge carried him into the kick. There was a whoosh, as he was winded and he fell in a huddle on the ground.

Just then, the bigger fellow rejoined the fray, but he was going after Roger. Dexter reacted quickly, and swung his staff at the brute's feet. He managed to tangle them and the colossal man fell with a crash. Shield stepped forward and sent him into dreamland with a forceful blow to the head. He looked up to see how Roger was doing with his two, and seeing the situation seemingly under control, he turned to pick up his bag. But before he could move, hands grabbed him from behind and he felt a knife pressed up against his neck.

"Alrighty, shut up you lot." The man holding the preacher said. "And nobody gets hurt."

[Roger Davis]

An added kick to the head knocked Roger's second attacker out of the fight. By then the first man was clambering unsteadily back to his feet. Roger cut him short with a wind up swing with the butt of the shotgun acting as the gunhand's bat. Now both men were down for the count. The two that Shield had engaged were in a similar state: one was knocked unconscious and the other was bent over and gasping for breath... not bad for an old shepherd.

Unfortunately there was a fifth attacker that had joined the fray and taken Shield as a hostage. It would have been smarter for him to just stay out of it at that point but you didn't get to be a petty thief because you had an excess of intelligence. As the man spoke, Roger has his shotgun already trained on the pair and soon had one of his 1911s also aimed on the man as well (shotgun left hand, pistol right hand).

"Too late for that." Roger replied as he glanced around at the four men on the ground. "You brought a knife to a gun fight so this goes down one of two ways: You let him go and run from here before I change my mind about sparin' you, or I shoot you dead. Maybe you kill him in the process, maybe not, but you're not gonna leave this place alive. Some of your friends might also follow after you dependin' on my mood which right now ain't too merciful."

[Tristram Kelly]

{OOC: I'm not sure how long it's been since Roger left the Trinity in Tris's care, so I can change it if need be}

Tristram walked the streets he had walked every day for almost a month now. He had just finished his shift at the new job Roger had helped him land. It wasn't the most exciting gig, usually nothing more than guard duty that could easily be handled by cheap rent-a-cops, but sometimes there was a situation that required a more skillful approach. Fortunately, today was one of those less exciting days. Standard punch in, stand around, punch out, and head back to the Trinity before making his semi-weekly visit to St. Lucy's to check on the incapacitated crew.

The day's normalcy was fated to end on the walk back to the ship. As he rounded a corner, he could see a bit of an altercation between a group of men in the distance. Normally, he would have paid them no mind. Fights happened all the time on the docks. There was no reason to get involved, until one of the men drew a gun on the others. Tristram drew the Grach from his thigh and started toward the combatants. He was still a fair distance away when another man came out of the shadows and pulled a knife holding it to older looking man's throat. The man with the gun turned around and took aim at the thug. Now, Tristram was close enough to see his face. "I'll be damned..." He whispered to himself. Roger had come back earlier than expected, and had found trouble already. The young gunhand could see that if things continued the way they were going, someone, if not two someones, would likely die. Instead of risking trying to sneak up on the hostage taker and getting the old man's throat slit, Tris holstered his pistol and retrieved his rifle from his back. Slowly, he dropped to a knee and took aim, lining the sights up where the thug's knife arm bent at the elbow. A hit there should be enough to make him drop the blade without posing any real danger to him or his hostage. It was a smaller target than he usually had to hit, but he took as much time as he felt he could spare, took a breath, and fired. A cry of pain and a small red spray confirmed the hit.

[Dexter Shield]

Shield was for once, at a loss. He seemed to be more or less humped, even though Roger had a gun pointing, he doubted there would be a peaceful resolution.

Before he could so much as say anything however, the man jerked back, and Shield felt blood spatter his face, as the man hollered. He acted fast. Spinning, he drove his fist into the man's gut, winding him. He then dropped and swept the fellow's legs from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. The knife skittered away, and the villain lay moaning. Shield turned, and gathered his things, wiping the blood from his cheek.

"Shall we?" He asked Roger, all the while looking for their mysterious savior.

[Roger Davis]

Roger caught a glimpse of a newcomer approaching from down the street. All all the people to happen across them, it was one of the few people on Ariel who would actually be on Roger's side. "Last chance." Roger stated to the hostage taker, his tone still implying that Roger was going to take the shot rather than an unknown third party.

Tristram's shot was straight and true, or at least it was if he had intended to disarm the man. Roger personally would have gone for a more damaging shot against a larger target. With an innocent life on the line, concerns about the enemy's well being dropped off significantly.

It was no matter. The man's knife arm was disabled and the shepherd quickly responded, taking the assailant to the ground... awfully spry for an "old man." In the smooth manner that seemed typical of Shield, he was already prepared to continue on as if there had been no interruption at all.

Roger gave a look to the defeated man on the ground and considered giving him a parting gift, size 13, but instead he stepped up with the shepherd to continue. "Tristram." He called as he walked toward their guardian angel. "This is Shepherd Shield, an old friend." He said when they were close enough. "Shepherd, this is Tristam Kelly, fellow shipmate and current caretaker of the Trinity. How is she, by the way?"

[Tristram Kelly]

Story continues here.