Nothing can possibly go wrong...

[Machaeus]

Urufu begins humming a tune. Machaeus looks to him and asks, "FF6?"
"FF1." He goes back to humming.
"Of course." The warlock-turned-gunslinger rolls his eyes.

[Ash]

Ash stands in front of the saloon for a few seconds before he enters, his head raised only enough to look at the various persons inside. He walks up to one of the tables, where one man lies with his head in a puddle of alcohol, snoring, grabs him by the collar and pulls him up.

No sheriff star. Hm...

"No. Not him."

He releases the man, whose head hits the table pretty ungentle and continues to the next table. There, Ash examines a few people who are playing cards. The group looks at him with shifty eyes. Ash doesn't say anything. Then he pats one of them on the shoulder.

"Pal... Thats the worst hand I have ever seen.", he says quietly, shaking his head. Quickly he leaves the table. His goal is the barkeeper.

[Machaeus]

Urufu grins at Ash when they're gone. "They're going all-in," he says quietly.
"Royal Flush," the man with the "worst hand" says. His partners groan in frustration.
Machaeus smirks. "That's one way to gain allies."

[tachyon]

Contrary to what most westerns whould have them believe the patrons of the bar neither looked up at the newcomers, nor did the piano abruptly stop. Partly because there were too few customers to notice, all engrossed in their own business, and also because the bar had a Player Piano.
The bar itself was split-level; an open floor with wooden tables and chairs flanked by two staircases to an upper balcony with doors leading elsewhere. The bar sat along the left wall, while inbetween the stairs was a small, raised stage.
The Barkeeper NPC was fat and balding on top, with a moustache that connected to his sideburns. His apron was dirty and he smelled of all things drunken and disorderly.
"Don't get many strangers in here anymore." he said to the group as they approached the bar, "What can I do you for?"

[Machaeus]

Machaeus drops his voice and body posture low, and the bartender leans closer. "We're looking for the Sheriff. The OLD Sheriff," he murmurs.

[Ash]

Royal Flush?

"Of course. I... known that.", Ash says quietly, looking back to the table after he reached the bar.
Ash examines the Barkeeper, then the various bottles of alcohol behind him.

"Yeah. Not that troublemaker Deacon. Even though Id like to see him...", Ash mutters.

...to wipe the floor with him.

[tachyon]

"The old sheriff? What the hell for? All that sonb.itch is good for now is emptyin' bottles."
The bartender lets the statement hang, though when it becomes apparent none of them are going to go away he relents.
"Hell, if you must have a good reason if your askin'. He's over there, right by the stage. But if you want my opinion, if you're wantin' to get something done, then it's Francis and his boys you're wantin to talk to."
At that moment the piano does abruptly stop, but only because it's cylinder needs replacing. A man comes out from a door on stage with a toolbox and a new player piano cylinder. There are notciably more patrons entering the bar now, though all seem to be not at all concerned about the newcomers.

******************************************************************************

"It still looks the same..." said one of the techicians, looking at the tru-life video display of the bar the group was in.
Dinnmore grunted.
"But it don't feel the same, y'know? None of the town does."
The phone rang, but another tech went to answer it before the president could. He continued musing.
"I just have this gut feelin that theres more goin on here than what we're seein..."
"Porky, it's for you." said the tech with the phone, "I think you'll want to take this."
The large Texan took the handset and waddled off to the other side of the room. The techs were trying to listen covertly, though soon that didn't matter.
"WHAT?!!" yelled Porky, as simultaneously every object in the room not secured to the floor seemed to move, "You can't be serious... Who, hang on I-... I know that, but-... Yeah, but-... DAMMIT, LISTEN TO ME!! This is some girl's life we're talkin 'bout here!... Right outside the-...Then why the hell didn't you just use the golddarn doorbell? Get in here!"
He ended the call, almost snapping the handset in two. He looked up at the techicians who we're now too concerned to pretend they weren't listening.
"It's the godd**n lawyers." said Porky.

*****************************************************************************

[Machaeus]

Urufu nods. "And where is Francis?" he asks in a low voice. "The more the merrier." Machaeus, meanwhile, is looking at the menu for drinks.

[tachyon]

"He'll be here any minute. Him and his boys never miss the show."
There was a cheer from the crowd as the piano began to play again. From the doors adjacent to the stage a line of women in frilly, long skirts paraded out and began dancing the Can Can in time with the piano. The barman grinned wolfishly.
"Nobody misses the show."
He slid some dirty glasses of beer across the bar to them.

*****************************************************************************

"So tell me," asked the suited man as he walked behind the massive form of Porky through the Westworld Corp. building, "how long exactly has the woman in question been brain dead?"
"Kei is not dead," said Porky savagely "not brain dead, not proper dead, and not no dead so long as I'm in charge here."
The blatant insensitivity of this bureaucrat had pushed the Texan to the limits of his already strained patience. Everything about the man was offensive; his snide voice, his condescending tone, his tiny black-tinted glasses, his slick hair, his pale, clammy skin (which seemed almost as sweaty as Porky's) and the overwhelming stink of cologne that he emanated. Even the pressed gray suit he wore and datapad he constantly consulted were offensive.
"You do realize the cost of keeping her 'alive' will bleed Westworld dry in a matter of weeks through lost income alone. The Board will not stand for this. Their livelihoods are at risk because of-"
"Because of what?!" yelled Porky "Because some poor girl refuses to be nice and die for you?!"
The lawyer shrugged, showing no sign that he even registered the large mans outburst.
"Your words, not mine."
He pushed past the CEO and into the control room. Behind him Porky was fighting the urge to grab a nearby fire axe and embed it in the other man's back.

*******************************************************

[Ash]

A big grin appears on Ash´s face as the women appear on the stage, reaching nearly from ear to ear. Like this, he looks like the Grinch.

"Yes guys. This is where I belong.", he says, catching one of the glasses before it can slide past him. "...really."

He looks at the dirty glass and shrugs.

"Have seen worse.", he mutters, before he looks around.

"I´ll try to get some information out of the sheriff. If he can still speak, I mean. Not that I distrust "Francis and his boys" ...but this guy is... was... the Sheriff."

That said, Ash walks over to the table where the Sheriff sits. He stands for quite some time beside him, before he lets himself fall onto a chair beside the Sheriff.

"Do you enjoy the show, my friend?", Ash asks the him, his eyes the whole time on the stage, still the huge grin on his face.

[Machaeus]

Urufu takes a sip out of the glass, then nods. "This isn't too bad," he says. "Not like some beers I've had." He looks to Machaeus, who is staring at the glass. "What?"
Machaeus makes a little motion with his hands, indicating the use of magic, then shakes his head. The medicine-man beside him chuckles. "Shut up," Mach mutters. "I feel almost emasculated without it." He sighs and takes a swig, watching as Ash talks to the Sheriff.

[tachyon]

As the unneringly lifelike NPC turns his face over the wooden table to face Ash, his unshaven chin flicks up drops of spilled alcohol and crumbs of inditerminable foods. Through clouded eyes he stares as he releases a torrent of foul-smelling breath to speak.
"What show?" he asks slowly, then he turns his head up to face the dancing girls.
"When they get a stage?" he said as he reached out though the empty bottles and glasses that covered the table, searching for one that still contained some liquid.

[Machaeus]

Urufu, having heard this, sighs. "This isn't good," he mutters. "Our anti-virus is so out of it he doesn't know when they got the stage..."
"So let's think of something else," Urufu says as quietly.
"I think I'll wait for this Francis."
"What're you talking about?" the bartender asks.
"Official cleanup crew," Machaeus says - only half a lie, as they're not official. "We'd show you our badges, but the government's short on funds. Again."
"Isn't that typical," the bartender snorts. "It's really bad enough that the government's on Deacon's case?"
"He's made a nuisance of himself in other areas of duplicity, other states," Machaeus says seriously.
"Isn't that putting it lightly?" Urufu smirks, playing along.
"Never heard an Injun speak English so well," the bartender says.
Urufu shrugs. "What can I say, I studied it for a long time to be a diplomat."
"Oh? What're the axes for?"
"Tomahawks, and they're for aggressive negotiations."
"Which are?"
"Diplomacy gone bad." The bartender chuckles.

[Ash]

Good god!

Ash turns around immediately to escape the disgusting breath from the sheriff. Even though he knows that everyone and everything here is artifical... his gag reflex was real. Or at least it felt like that. He shudders and turns around again to face the sheriff, who was obviously trying to find more alcohol on the table.

"Sorry. Thought there was someone I know."

You faced a wall. Way to go, Ash.

"Ah. Wait a second...", Ash begins, pointing at him, looking as if he tries to remember something. "I know you! You are the Sheriff, aren't you?"

Better. Much better.

"What a coincidence! Maybe you can help me...", Ash says, shoving the beer into the Sheriff´s direction

(( déjá vu. I have the feeling I wrote that before. Scary. Really scary... ))

[tachyon]

"No, no, not the Sherefh. Not now. Wash the Sherefh, but I aint no more."
The NPC grabbed the beer Ash had pushed towards him, and in attempting to consume it in his inebriated state succeeded in pouring it all over his left shoulder.
"Got booted out of the job," the man went on, "some guysh came. Bad guys. Shot a whole bunch of people, mainly injuns. Jush showed up an' shot 'em. No reshon or nuthin. Shot anyone who wash in their way. Then they come up to me, but they didn't shoot me. Jush beat me up, an next thing I know, I'm in here."
On stage the performance came to a close. The ladies curtsied and trotted off to much applause and much more lewd comments. The crowd didn't disperse, in fact they seemed to be waiting in anticipation for something.

*******************************************************

"Man, this dude's programming is screwed."
One of the techs was skimming through the tangled web of codes that was the 'Sheriff' Anti-Virus program. With each passing minute what progress the self-repair protocols in place had made was undone and then some by some unknown factor.
"He's getting worse by the minute. We gotta find whatever's causing this and isolate it. Hey guys, wh-" the tech began, but he like everyone else was now watching the line of dancing girls on the primary display.
"I know we didn't program that..." said one.
"Any chance of keeping that after reboot?" said another.
"Grow up will you..." complained one of the female techs.
The were jolted from their thoughts by Porky and an unknown man entering the room. They could tell by their boss' body language that he was in a bad mood. When he looked up and saw what was going on in the bar, he just massaged his eyes and swore quietly to himself.

*******************************************************