I know, they're already superheroes.
But in our story ...
“Hey!”
The Rustler said. “Who’s there?” He drew an intimidating pistol
in each hand, from under his duster coat. “Show yourself!”
“I’m
right here!” A big man in a green and gunmetal suit strode into
sight, broken glass and building debris crunching under his feet. “I
didn’t mean to startle you, pardner. Real sorry—if I
did.”
“You
done nuthin’ of the sort,” The Rustler said. “You better stop
worrying about me, Machine Ranger—and start worrying about
yourself.”
“Me?
Worry? Why would I …”
The
Rustler started to unload his pistols on the Machine Ranger, but the
hail of bullets only sparked and pinged off his metal suit.
Soon
The Rustler’s pistols clicked empty.
“You
about done, Rustler?”
“Just
until I reload, Machine Head.”
The
Rustler’s sidekick revved aggressively, and strained against the
cowboy.
Machine
Ranger pointed his arms straight ahead, at The Rustler. “Yeah …
about reloading …” The silvery barrels of the Gatling machine
guns encircling his upper arms whirred around a few times, and then
clicked to a stop. “Don’t do that. You’re under arrest,
tumbleweed breath.”
Machine Ranger on Machine Ranger ...
“You
see, I came to realize that, although I’m kind of stuck with my
injuries, being handicapped
… you know, being
compromised … being limited,
as a person, and as a man
… THAT I
realized was MY
choice. And I chose not to go there. I actually figured I could do
something about it.”
“I
see.”
“Do
you see? It’s my work.”
“Oh
… with the robots and everything?”
“Yes,
that’s it. And the nanotechnology. And everything else.”
“Better
living through technology, huh?”
“Exactly.
It’s my dream to be able to help all the others,
hurt like me, get
back to―”
“The
battlefield?” she said. “For more fighting?”
“Well,
I …”
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