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The New Breed: "Mah Tucket"


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So, I felt particularly inspired, and wanted to write out a quick thing about what I think Mah Tucket's story (and what her crew's story) is. Please be gentle :)

Some days McTavish regretted getting out of bed in the morning. When he made enough to keep him and his babies fed, life was downright biscuits and gravy. But in the lean times, he couldn’t afford to be picky. Today was turning into a headache that was going to take a whole mess of shine to wash off. It was supposed to be simple: Fancy father in fancy clothes wanted a deadbeat kid vanished for taking liberties with his daughter, social nightmare blah blah. The main thing was the thick stack of Scrip that would keep him and his babies feasting nicely for a few months. What the father failed to mention was that the kid had a group of like-minded friends who didn’t take to him shuffling off this mortal coil this soon all too well. So, one well placed ambush and loss of cargo later, McTavish found himself hiding behind an outhouse in an abandoned contract town for cover side by side with the second half of his headache.

“Watch yourself ya damn fool! Can’t spend that money if ya aint got a head!” His rather insistent companion was a gremlin showing off way more skin than she should have been, and calmly reloading a rifle as big as she was. McTavish put his fingers to his lips, let out two quick shrill whistles, then a long low one.

“Don’t get your kerchief in a twist woman! I ain’t gonna let no bullet stiff me out of money what’s rightfully mine.”

“Ours you mean… let’s not forget the finder’s fee and hazard pay we’re getting for this.” McTavish didn’t mind working with the little guys; pound for pound he knew more Gremlins he’d trust in a hunt than people. Only problem was that strategy often had to get behind sheer luck, and not many people could adapt to that. Recently, McTavish had taken up with a group that might change that though. Nearly all females, run by an older one who called herself ‘Mah’. It was definitely an oddity to see a female boss in the gremlins, but that Lacroix one had probably become famous enough that the females had started realizing they didn’t have to hang around the cooking pot. The one next to him was called “Trixie”. She was definitely the face of this groups operation, a fairly smooth talker who the males practically drooled over.

“Yeah yeah. That IS of course if your ladies start firing before my babies get there first.” McTavish leaned out slightly, drawing a bead on one of the guys who had moved to behind an upturned wagon. McTavish took a smooth breath, held it, then pulled the trigger, smiling to himself as the man’s arm jerked back, a blotch of red forming on his sleeve. In his cursing and shouting, the man failed to notice the brush next to him shake and shudder slightly before an alligator burst out, clamping down on his leg. “Good job baby.” McTavish chuckled to himself as he worked out the rest of the plan. The kid and his buddies had made it to what was probably a general store and had managed to get some barricades up.

McTavish and the ladies had been dropping the stragglers as they worked their way to the final goal.

McTavish had to give the ladies credit, they had precision and almost passed as having trained as far as Gremlin standards went. Only thing that stood in the way of completing his payday was 10 yards of open dirt to a barricaded building with nearly a dozen guns ready to kill on site. “Don’t suppose Mah’s got a miracle in that apron of hers, does she?” McTavish looked back to Trixie.

“Heh… you’d be amazed what tricks she’s got.” Trixie replied as she looked upward. McTavish followed her gaze as Mah hurtled shoulder first through the second story window with a fierce yell, a large stirring spoon held with both hands ready for the attack.

“Huh… ya’d think I wouldn’t be surprised working with you guys all this time.” McTavish kept an eye on the building, smirking as lifeless bodies sailed through windows intermittently. “Why the spoon?” He finally questioned.

“Why you carry that old Howles?” Trixie replied, a half smile of her own. “There’s new rules in the Bayou. The biggest hat don’t mean as much any more. Biggest spoon’s just as important.” McTavish shrugged, accepting the answer. The door to the building flung open, several men frantically running out and firing wildly behind them. As McTavish drew a bead again, he saw the kid. He then saw Mah nearly snap the kid’s leg off with a vicious swing. The setting sun caught the glint of the sword hilt she had turned into a makeshift eyepatch as she paced around the kid, spoon at the ready.

“I gave you one chance to surrender peacefully. But you went and did the stupidest thing in all of creation: you didn’t kill me with the first shot. That’s some fire and damnation kind of messing up there.” Mah looked to McTavish. “How much you need for the bounty?” McTavish shrugged.

“Just his hand. Right one’s got a birthmark on it, and that’s good enough proof for the dad.” The kid was struggling to his knees, running through every plea he could think of as Mah finished the job, wiping the mess from her spoon on the kid’s clothes.

“So,” Trixie spoke up, non-plussed by the situation at hand. “I believe that’s 20% for helping resolve the problem at hand, and first rights to seeing what our friends here are willing to donate to our cause?” McTavish let out a chuckle.

“Sweet mercy woman, how about a moment of silence before we start yanking fillings?”

“Turns out I’ve had enough excitement, now I just want a cigarette.” McTavish pulled out a hunting knife to ensure his contract, then handed over the promised payment to Mah, her unflinching gaze showing the briefest sign of respect before looking over their spoils.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day to get out of bed after all.

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