Issac tears the getaway vehicle past a tight alleyway, the main road rejoined as he slams the accelerator pedal in desperation. “Gods I swear if we get out of this…”

“Two miles hard right!” Adami yells next to him, retrieving a mental map of the city. “Get ready!”

The Bandit growls as she attempts to lug her weapon back to a firing position, dropping the thing as hot carrying handles burn flesh. “They're on us right now!”

The chasing beast roars out insane torque, punishment shrugged off by will and rage. Impact sights from deflected rounds mark armored plating, a few cracks upon bulletproof windows barely acknowledged by the Judges within it.

A distance closed to a terrifying gap, through the flashes of street lights glances between the lawless and lawful meet. The armored beast preparing for a killshot, bullbars closing in for a disabling maneuver.

“One more shot.” Jacob grits as he points to the fallen shotgun at the base of the cargo bed. “One engine hit and it’s done for.”

Rin grabs the weapon, a clumsy frame taking stock in the now relatively small piece of equipment.

“Stop.” The Bandit firmly states. “You miss you could kill ‘em.”

“No, give it to me.” Jacob insists as he pulls himself up. “I got thi… ”

The entire front of the getaway vehicle dissolves on impact, metal instantly atomized from demonic power. A stream of plasma bridges four hundred meters in a millisecond, the massive bullet from the anti-material rifle shredding into the engine block of the truck in a rending wave of an ear-shattering explosion.

Issac rips the wheel aside as the metal frame is shoved off course, transferred force enough to throw the destroyed vehicle towards the sidewalk. The Gang screams as he uselessly slams on the breaks, the entire front axle collapsing as rear tires kick smoke and dust in protest. Sparks fly as bare metal shears against stone pavement, Adami gripping her seat as the entire front-end digs into pavement.

Careening wildly the vehicle strikes a parked transport car, the impact sending unsecured bodies flying.

Bucked like unwanted cargo the three gang members at the back are dumped five feet onto the ground, the remaining two stopped cold in their seats by arresting seatbelts.

Fire and flame, a lifeblood of biofuel igniting as the remains of the engine block bleeds itself dry from broken storage tanks and lines.

Onlookers watch in stunned horror, a handful of concerned citizens already approaching the site of scattered debris and broken metal.

The Bandit stands first from the cobblestone, shaking away blurred vision as she speaks. “Everyone ok?!”

“Jacob’s planning the next one…” The Lookout mumbles in pain as she unbuckles her seatbelt, dumping herself onto the ground. “Issac?”

The Locksmith groans as he steps out of the wreckage, seemingly untouched by the sudden de-acceleration. “I agree…”

“See, majority vote.” The Enforcer stands, a limp arm the most concerning injury upon tattered clothing. “Gods Rin you alright?!”

The muscular form turns coldly, the gash upon her square forehead slowly producing a thin trickle of blood. “Sorry Maddie, Jacob is planning the next job.”

“Alright alright.” The young woman agrees as she grabs her weapon, the item undamaged from abuse. A sudden pause at the realization, the application of power from another source forcing open eyes. “What the hells was that?!”

Issac turns as he scans rooftops, an unseen sharpshooter raising hairs at the base of his neck. “Whatever it was, we gotta get off the… ”

From behind them the pursuit vehicle comes to a dead stop, headlights dimming as the pair of doors open. A voice broadcast, the familiar tone ordering forth rage. A power that stumbles the onlookers, arcane force sundering ear drums. “DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD. NOW!”

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The Bandit turns to her gang, lugging forth the divine weapon. “I’ll draw ‘em off.”

“What?!”

“Just go!”

Tracers scatter across the armored police car as she rains down nonlethal lead, the pair of Judges ducking behind windows as the stream of firepower roars towards them. A crowd dissipating underneath a developing gunfight, figures clashing together in the utter anarchy of escape.

“Issac you’re in charge!” Maddie orders her subordinates. “Get out of here!”

Rin drags the wounded form of Jacob up, carried in arms as behind them Adami begins to sprint towards another alleyway.

“If you get caught…” Issac begins as eyes meet.

“You’ll break me out, I know.” The young woman smiles, giving him an assured wink. “Now go!”

Two paths split, a fated parting beneath five gods.

The Bandit runs through aisles of decaying buildings, the corridors of the Old City tightening from ancient construction. Dark electrical light shed from dying lampshades, shuttered windows of bombed out churches and packed habitation blocks guiding the young woman through a labyrinthian monster.

Unswept dust accumulated in piles against the corners of buildings, the stench of burned incense and refuse permeating every square meter of air.

Ragged breaths pushed to the limit of a pureblooded biology through adrenaline and perusers, the Bandit turning for a split second as the shape catches the edge of her vision.

A burst of tracers sent against the barely spotted Judge, the old man ducking into cover as the rounds scatter off concrete construction.

Bending right and left, a trail of anarchy is followed in close pursuit.

The ear shattering blast of a shotgun shell echoes down the alleyway, the young woman ducking as the speciality payload scatters itself across brick and concrete.

Batteries and capacitors wired together arc lightning in a brilliant release of electrical energy, a stunning effect lost against inorganic material.

“Nice try Judge!” The Bandit breathlessly screams out. “Come and get me!”

A wordless reply followed, the old man equalizing the Centralian bloodlines with frontier training and raw physical experience, a relentless prosecution of the chase.

Cornering around a saloon the Bandit sprints past a handful of drunken patrons within the alleyway. An aggressive shove brings one down atop the rest, a sobering pain turning to rage as the group watches the young woman escape.

A man stands, stumbling slightly as he lazily points out towards the shrinking figure. “You bitch, get ba…”

Four gunshots ring out behind them, non-lethal rounds connecting with flesh as arcing electricity paralyzes nervous systems. Bodies collapsing onto cold pavement, the Judge leaps over the obstruction as he continues his pursuit.

She damns herself.

Maddie stops, a dead end reached as alleyways converge into a wide open street.

The Old City Quarter of March, a clash of ages playing itself out upon the very infrastructure of society. Churches of crafted stone from imperial dynasties stand before bars and apartments of fabricated concrete. Modernality intersecting history, a rejection of the unforgotten past rearing against each other in a mishmash of architecture.

Lights barely illuminated in the final hours before rest, the young woman watching as a handful of bored onlookers stop to observe her form. Standing before judgment, beneath watching divines.

She swears as she tries to catch her breath, a finality to fate as she turns to face him. “Gods damn it…”

A divine weapon revealed as destiny intersects, the five barrels pointed towards the shadowed form as it steps from darkness.

An old, graying face beneath a wide brimmed hat, the abyssal blue uniform upon the body patched with woven plates of ceramic armor, pouches of ammunition, and strings of grenades. A street light catches the golden badge; the seven bars of the Federated Cities layered by a single bullet. An incarnation of the Law upon a lawless world, to keep order in a universe of chaos.

“Judge John Murphy…” The Bandit speaks as she coldly smirks. “How you doin’ gramps?!”

A lever action rifle held at his hip, trained hands cycling the action as a spent shell is ejected into the world.

The weaving of paths, strings of fate manipulated together by unknown force.

The voice speaks, a calm grizzled tone echoing across the world hinted with physical exertion and pain. “Madeleine McCormick, put down your weapon. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

“That the best you got?!” The young woman chuckles in defiance. “Just try to take me down.”

Judge Murphy raises his weapon, a gunmetal gray barrel and wooden buttstock of human craft converging upon a pure black receiver of divine creation. A lever action woven into a salvaged item of incomprehensible origin, reality itself bending towards it.

A finality to the spoken word, an application of justice as sights shakily align with the Bandit. “End of the line kid. Give it up.”

The young woman grins, a trigger depressed as five barrels begin to spin.

A soul of lawless justice, molded in the chaotic forges of a dying world. A single aspect among five, of a wielded power against her own brethren.

Bring together the five pieces of a broken god.

Unite them, to birth a weapon that will save us all.

THE GOD GUN.