Nameless

"...did you see who they are?!" Demanded Fournier as he quickly reloaded his pistol. "I give a damn who they are!" snapped Richardson, as he tied a strip of cloth around his arm, in hopes of making the bleeding stop. "Where the hell is Larson!" Suddenly a loud and hideous shriek echoed down the alleyway. "My god..." Prayed Richardson as he imagined what terror could have possibly caused a man to sound like that. "We, we have to go... We have to go now!" Richardson studdered, as he felt the warm stream run down his leg and into his shoe. "But where?" whinned Fournier, as he joined Richardson as he made haste through the shadows. "Anywhere but here!" Snapped Richardson. "Anywhere but..."

As Richardson climbed the steps to the roof top he continuously cursed the frenchman for his failed responsibilities. He was to simply to shoot a man. That was all, ONE MAN! Yet he failed miserabely. But when Richardson arrived at the roof top he found Fournier much different than he would have expected. The french man was wearing nothing but his underclothes and somehow bound with dirty a wash line. Nearby the frenchman's musket was in pieces and useless. "What the hell is this! " Demanded Richardson, as he cut the ropes from Fournier. "I was set upon! There must have been three or four of them!" Whinned Fournier. "Before I knew it, I was bound and tied up." Suddenly the door burst open as Larson stood with mouth wide open. "What the hell is this!" Demanded Larson as he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I was set upon!" Whinned Fournier, again. "There must have been three or four.." "Yes I heard!" Snapped Larson, furious at the thought of such a simple operation going completely awry. Then suddenly realizing that after being well-paid by their employer, only to fail, would mean death for each of them. "We need to leave here quickly!" hissed Lasron. "Give him your jacket!"

"What the devil is he waiting for!?" growled Richardson, as he impatiently waited for Fournier to make his shot. Richardson never trusted the frenchman, though he was one of the best marksmen he had ever met. "Just be calm.." growled Larson, trying to hide his own impatience. However as he watched his opportunity begin to spoil. "Damn him! We havn't time for this... Go up and see what's taking him!" Snapped Larson. "If we loose this opportunity, I swear I'll kill that frenchman myself!"

Having sent his sharpshooter to the rooftop with a nicely paid bounty well in advance, it was only a matter time before Pike Larson had fulfilled his business arrangement. Watching Sir Henry from the slightly cracked window, he would wait until the guardsman on the coach was disposed of, then he and Richardson would finish the other guard and ultimately tend to Sir Henry himself. Just as soon as the two commoners vacated the scene, the trap would be sprung.