The logistics of the thought are barely attainable by present minds, the very notion made from a concoction of desperation and insanity. They all try to process the implication first, then the subsequent wording of the Gunslinger.

Judge Murphy actually considers it, an investigative mind bridging forth the reality from a long life lived amongst the ruins. “An expedition has been done before, if not past the last city but… ”

“By the Federation gramps.” Madeline drunkenly continues off of him. “You think we should tell the Feds that ohhhh we’re uniting the five fragments of the GOD GUN, can you give us a flight? We’ve got aaaaalllll five fragments RIGHT HERE, and also ARSA HIMSELF. You know what would happen if they found out?!!”

“Would it not be beneficial to receive Federation funding for such an expedition?” Samuel begins.

Samantha coldly speaks above him, a protective nature stopping the thought from the sibiling. “The Federation will terminate you if your status as a mage is discovered.”

The Judge corrects the girl. “If you apply for Federal citizenship underneath a guardian or when you reach the age of majority, you will gain the bodily rights and protections under the Federation Constitution.”

“You actually think they wouldn’t take him apart, piece by piece the moment they find out?” The Bandit informs sternly, dead eyes staring down the old man. “Because they would.”

Samantha snarls as she moves to her weapon. “That will not occur.”

“This is immaterial.” The Judge suddenly interrupts as he turns to the Being, Ar’s form now targeted by the inquisition of knowledge. “You transported us from the fabrication facility, correct? Is that repeatable?”

Ar keeps his gaze towards the emptiness of the world, avoiding any excess expenditure of energy to hide his presence amongst five more. “That method of transportation was only functional due to the excess of energy projected as a result of the manufacturing of the device. It is also limited in the distance traveled and locations available.”

“Explain.” Samuel orders.

The physics behind it all demands an understanding beyond them, lives existent in three dimensions unable to comprehend the flexible nature of reality itself. Ar begins from the simplest point possible. “Matter relocation requires a large expenditure of energy in both preparatory calculations and execution. As of now; access to a large enough energy source or processing resource is not available.”

“Of course it isn’t. Why would it be?” Madeline rolls her eyes. “Why does it have to be like this…?”

There’s only one real solution, the prospected distance left to their devices for consideration; each of the Five stopping for their own trains of thought.

Judge Murphy’s mental palace has long decayed into irrelevance, an ancient mind left to rot through natural age and an outdated nature of the stored files. A land recently conquered still in living memory, the dust and baked earth still holding the signs of a vicious campaign fought across the vast mesas and wastelands.

The journey will take them through the Federation, from the smallest townships to the great cities. A realm of the lawless held by bandit kings, civilian lynchings, and corrupt sherrifs. Disorder inherent to any civilization, its roots found in the very nature of humanity. A ceaseless battle against decay, a hopeless enemy of eventual collapse fought in desperate gun battles and duels.

And their last hope sits among them. To travel this world for order and stability, alongside the lawless and criminals of the Federation. To ally himself with the very thing to destroy them all.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Madeline McCormick tries to polish off the rest of the bottle, the acid-like texture and bitter additive to the vessel not enough to dissuade an already muddled mind. But yet she still thinks back to home, back to the great city at the center of the world.

All roads lead to Centralis, back amongst the spires and slums and housing blocks. The bustle of millions upon millions, their souls forgotten among one another in an ever ceaseless life of desperation; watched over by those living in the shadows of five great towers.

She buries the thought with another swig, a supply running dangerously low as she reaches the bottom of the glass container.

The twins watch her with hostile intent, a remuneration for their collective standing just beyond their grasp. A temptation for capture and escape unable to outweigh the risk against the remaining three mortals and one divine monster, a termination by their hands a guarantee at this momentary point in time.

But yet the temptation of the reward hangs there, despite the seemingly impossible task. The sheer imagination of endless bread, meat, honey, and pastry overwhelms the logical processes of the two. A single glance confirming their allegiances, against an unthought termination the promise of divinity holds.

Alto Carrin just sits there without any movement.

It's a journey to the northlands, to the fields of glass and farmsteads, fighting against monsters amongst walled fortress towns. And beyond even that, beyond the treelines of the deadlands and into the territories even the greatest armies could not tame with faith and gunfire.

Assuming they even survive in the first place.

“I will not travel with a criminal.” Judge Murphy announces suddenly, words pointed towards both the Bandit and Gunslinger.

Madeline scoffs at the implication of the old man. “Oh come on gramps, Judges have done worse than deputizing a few bad guys. Compared to the lot of ‘em, we’re basically saints! No rapists, no serial killers, the worst any of us has done is…”

The ancient gaze merely scowls at her. “I won’t compromise a task of this importance.”

“Seriously? You’re stuck on this? There’s a world ending god currently buried under our feet, and we have the five fragments. We have a solution to EVERYTHING, and you’re stuck on the fact that I rob banks as a hobby, and that this guy decided to become a vigilante instead of becoming a scum sucking copper.” The woman puts emphasis on the pun, an attempt that easily goes over their collective heads.

He repeats his words again. “I will not compromise this operation, not with the…”

Alto Carrin ends the budding argument quietly. Pale green irises the gateway to a genuine soul, one filled with the simple conceptualization of faith. A call to arms from the will of all humankind. “We are all taken from our places in the world as lumps of slag, casted by our upbringings and tempered by our experiences to become who we are today. We are the tools of the gods, made to work and shape the world and those around us.”

He stares at them all with his next words, an entire sermon condensed into but a single paragraph. “A gun can be used to both destroy and save, it falls on those who wield it to find its purpose. We should not be defined on what has been done to us, but on what can be done now by us.

“The gods do not care from where the soul has journeyed from, only that it still seeks its own salvation.”

It's almost enough, a quotation of scripture pushing their souls to the very edge. They need something more, some greater confirmation of their own demise at the hands of gunfire, starvation, and the vengeance of ancient gods.

They need Ar to say it for them, humanity demanding the intervention of greater powers in their fates. To know that they are not alone, to reach for some forlorn hope passed down in prophecy and collective memory; subservience and independence in the face of divine comprehension and power.

SAY IT. The subblocks scream at him, rage surging through his body at the utter incompetence of the overarching runtime.

YOU CAN’T.

IT ISN’T LIKE THAT, I COULDN’T BEGIN TO COMP…

YOU ARE NOT A TRAITOR, YOU ARE ARSA, YOU COULD’VE DESTROYED THEM ALL WITH A SINGLE…

“Yet you didn’t.”

That fragment of her brings him back, that single promise to their kind corrupting his perfect enactment of vengeance.

He repeats himself from before, a simplistic sentence as he tries to stare at the unchosen representatives of mankind. The war for humanity begins now, a crusade to either burn this world or forge a new one from its remnants. Five fragments and five souls, all for one last hope for salvation here in the rubble and ruins.

“I require your assistance.”