“That’s not enough.” Madeline counts the bills, the slick form of paper held within plastic run through slender hands.

“It will be enough.” Judge Murphy informs, turning to the remainder. “One more thing.”

“What other materials are required?” Samuel asks with impatience.

“We each require a minimum of one reload of munitions. In case of an encounter with hostiles.”

Madeline narrows her eyes at the old man. “I thought we didn’t need to kill anyone?”

“Just in case.” Judge Murphy repeats the point.

There are only three applicable fragments, each reliant on the bullets of the world for operation.

Judge Murphy confirms the stripper clips filled with brass across his chest carrier, enough firepower to take on a small army concentrated with the arcane items in his possession. A weapon of justice, centered on an ancient soul and the lever action rifle.

Samantha only maintains two total magazines upon herself with three more within Samuel’s traveling bag, five round capacity each making a total of nine shots within a sibling pair’s half-filled maximal storage. Each bullet with the power to tear through tanks, an instrument built only for the purpose of destruction and violence.

Alto Carrin nervously speaks up, a social embarrassment at the state of his existence a resultant of ancient, pious teachings. “I… I don’t have any bullets on me.”

The rattle of distant gunfire, a silence between them all as they process the words of poverty.

Madeline just looks at him. “You’re telling me, your priestly attitude hasn’t earned you anything?”

A revolver produced, the divine weapon’s cylinders exposed as he swings the loading mechanism open.

Six cylinders, six missing rounds.

Zero lives.

Samuel narrows his gaze towards the Gunslinger. “Were all your rounds expended during our encounter with the Temple of the Savior?”

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

“Y-yeah.”

“You fired five rounds during the encounter.” Samuel continues to observe, clarifying against possible misunderstanding. “Were those the only five rounds in your possession to match the weapon’s caliber?”

“Yeah.”

Madeline’s expression turns from disgust to pity, a realization at the financial state of the Gunslinger triggering an utterly foreign reaction from her. “Gods damn, how much cash you have on you now?!”

He just motions towards the table, the simple five dollar and twenty seven cent contribution to the group representative of an entire life’s savings in a broken world. Poverty a way of life on the frontier; a wanderer’s sustenance taken from the donations of the generous, non-monetary payments of the thankful, and the departed souls of the saved.

Madeline turns to the Being. “Can we add like a cash reward to this thing? For his sake?”

Alto begins to object. “That’s no…”

“It can be arranged.” The Being replies.

Samuel makes the observation, eyes scanning over the dimensions of the weapon’s chambers. “Alto Carrin’s weapon requires .357 magnum rounds, federation expeditionary length and bore.”

Judge Murphy digs through the assorted pile of bullets, finding the memorized denominations of lead. Brass shapes the size of rough index fingers, the seven bars stamped upon them a guarantee of quality and a manufacturer symbol of one bar within one circle locating a factory within the city of Centralis. “I gave two rounds.”

No more suppliers as silence reigns, two lives having to tide the Gunslinger over until future references.

“We’ll try to get those bullets in change, I suppose.” Madeline sighs, turning to the man. “Seriously Alto you gotta leverage some of that hero worship, at least get some donations going or at least a royalty cut.”

A short, quiet statement made in objection; scripture abridged from the tales of the twin divines. “It’s a sin to use the gods for profit.”

The woman scoffs at the words. “Well thanks for damning us then. Gods damn…”

“Are we finished?” Judge Murphy harshly interrupts the sidelined conversation.

They all dwell in the pause, tired eyes moving between each other in a tenuous trust of weak allegiances. The oaths to gods, to each other, to the law and the lawless; utterly incompatible brought together under circumstances beyond their control.

Ar makes the realization, something within his mind tugging an already understood state of sociality and cultural norms. A betrayal at the moment of completion, coming to fruition in a journey to a final destination.

“Alright come on y’all.” Madeline rubs her hands together, a wide smile hiding thoughts within. “First shopping for some stuff in a city that’s literally tearing itself apart, and then we go save the world! Talk about a productive week right?”

They don’t reply to the question, the Five simply preparing their minds for a future to come.

They will fail, as humanity always has.