[h2][b][u]Finn[/u][/b][/h2]

[h3][u]Nuevo Paraíso, Mexico. Several days ago.[/u][/h3]

Finn squinted into the setting evening sun as he watched the dusty trail ahead for any signs of movement. From his crouched position atop the craggy hill he could see the surrounding countryside stretched out before him clearly for miles. It had been a hot and relatively still day, hardly a single cloud in the sky. 

He wiped his moist brow with his sleeve and cursed the heat of this goddam country. The sun was setting and it was still hotter than he was comfortable with, a feeling he was becoming all to accustomed too. He’d been camped out at this god-forsaken vista for two days over a week now, each day the temperature outdoing the previous whilst he was forced to do little more than endure as he waited and watched. 

Sighing Finn reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and retrieved a battered packet of cigarettes. A Mexican brand that in his opinion simply tasted like dirt, but without an alternative he was shit out of luck. He took a few moments to light a smoke and take a deep drag before he once more brought the old pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon. 

He quickly caught the glint of movement and focusing in he spotted what he had been waiting for. 

A wagon was speeding down the road behind two large draft horses, practically tipping as it barreled around one turn in the path. Something was wrong, he quickly realised. He could see that the carriage was being pursued by several horsemen. Moments later he heard the distant but unmistakable sound of gunshots ringing across the dusty landscape before him. Fuck. Something was definitely wrong. His mind instantly went to Freya - even though he knew she could more than handle herself his heart skipped a beat and he felt his mouth become even drier than it was before - if that was even possible. 

Scrambling to his feet and tossing the newly lit smoke Finn quickly turned and as fast as he could made his way down the rocky path to where he had been making camp. Almost slipping he scrambled over to his horse and leapt into the saddle. Beethoven needed little prompting and took off at a gallop, skidding out of the little canyon that concealed his hideaway and down towards the rapidly approaching carriage and riders as he gritted his teeth and prepared himself to do whatever he needed to. 


[h2][u][b]Freya[/b][/u][/h2]
[h3][u]Also Nuevo Paraíso, Mexico. Several days and about 1 hour 30 minutes ago. [/u][/h3]

“I must admit” spoke Gerardo in his deeply accented voice “you are not what I expected at all… chu know for a gringa that is”. 

Freya forced herself to laugh and flash a smile at the greasy little man before she responded “Oh darlin, you don’t know the half of it”.  

The pair reached the carriage and he pulled open the small door before gesturing for her to enter. She elegantly shot him a wink as she climbed in and took a seat, taking a moment to rearrange the rather uncomfortable dress she was wearing as she did. It didn’t escape her notice that Gerardo kept his eyes on her the entire time before clambering in himself. He removed his suit jacket and placed it on the opposite seat as he did before leaning out of the window and shouting a few commands - this time in his own native language, directed at the group of soldiers that was his escort. 

With another command barked at the driver they were away. Truth be told Freya was insanely happy to see the last of the small town as she turned her gaze upon it for what she hoped to be the last time. She watched the soldiers for a few moments - there were eight of them. Not an unsubstantial number, but not enough for her to worry about things going belly up. 

It had been no small feat to ingratiate herself to this rather unlikable but important man, let alone to arrange things so that he would ‘offer’ to escort her to the next town where there was a railway station she could use. She had spun him tales of her wealthy father and brothers, ranchers out of New Austin who would gladly repay his generosity whilst feigning the kind of disposition that only a daughter of the wealthy could manage. 

She too had not batted an eye when her Mexican hosts had brought a young girl from a nearby village and more than several of them had ‘introduced themselves’ to her. It was easy enough to feign an uncaring and superior disposition, after all why would a white American woman care what they did to one of their own. She felt more than a twinge of disgust, but pushed it down as she kept up the act and reminded herself coldly that shit happened. 

Of course it was the cargo that this man carried that she was really interested in, a large trunk which was now affixed to the rear of the carriage. See Gerardo Gonzailez was the newly appointed overseer of a string of gold, silver and copper mines, a reward from Porfirio Díaz for crushing some peasants insurrection in the south of the country before he was ‘retired’ from the army - or at least that was the information they were going off. It should be filled with either ingots or cash, maybe both - either way she knew he had just completed a tour of one of his establishments and would be making his way back to Mexico City via train. 

The pairs conversation flowed from liquor to business as she tried to keep him as distracted as possible. She guessed it would be another hour or so until they were passing through into Nuevo Paraíso, which is where things would get interesting. 

The plan was simple enough, Finn should be waiting and lurking to stickup the coach at which point she could take Gerardo hostage whilst the soldiers were distracted and they could do whatever they needed to relieve them of their valuables. She was glad for the hidden revolver strapped to her thigh, a wave of excitement shooting through her as she thought of the action ahead. 

[h2]***[/h2]


“… and then the governor shot him!” Finished Gerardo with a snort and a laugh.  Freya forced a giggle and was about to reply when suddenly a gunshot rang out - shattering the relative peace of the journey. 

“Emboscada!” Shouted one of the men outside as more gunshots began to pierce the air and the carriage jolted suddenly. 

“Que mierda?” Barked Gerardo as the body of their shotgun rider tumbled backwards past the window, a bullet-hole nestled squarely through his right eye socket. 

Freya too was shocked, was this Finn’s doing? This wasn’t the plan at all and she was certain her partner wouldn’t fuck  things up like this unless there was a good reason. 

Peering out of a window she briefly saw a group of masked riders barreling towards them before a bullet slammed into the wood beside her. Gerardo was already firing from the other window as he screamed aggressively in his own language. Several moments later Freya was still fumbling with her dress as she tried to lift it and retrieve her own weapon. 

Swearing she instead reached into one of her boots and pulled out a small flip-knife which she then used to slice away at the bottom portion of the fabric. With a determined yank she ripped away the dress from the knee down before finally pulling her own revolver from its holster. 

In the time it had taken her the wagon had veered from the path and was coming to a stop - she guessed their driver had also bought some lead from their unknown attackers. Gerardo shot her a bewildered look at her tattered dress and the weapon in her hand as he ducked behind the wood paneling to reload his revolver, fear now beginning to spread across his features. 

“You can never be too prepared Mr Gonzailez” she yelled over the gunfire as she joined him behind what little cover there was. She took a few moments to appraise the situation outside before in one swift movement she kicked the carriage door open and fearlessly leapt out into the fray with a gleeful expression spread across her face. 

It quickly became apparent that whomever these attackers were, they were well prepared and knew what they were doing. The majority of them had dismounted and were surrounding both the wagon and the remaining members of Gerardo’s entourage who were rapidly falling as their horses began to panic and buck. She knew she had to move before they managed to get into a position to surround them entirely. 

Firing two of her six shots she grinned in satisfaction as two of their attackers who had just reached the wagon crumpled to the dirt before she quickly pulled herself into the driver’s seat. Grabbing the reigns she shouted and frantically spurred the horses to move forwards as a few rounds whizzed passed her far too close for comfort. 

As they began to speed away she heard one of them shouting at the others to finish up with the guards and get after the carriage. Seemed they were Americans too she realised quickly as she fired a third shot at the last man stood between them and the path ahead - the round caught him squarely in the face and she couldn’t help but let a short laugh escape her. She heard Gerardo firing from the carriage behind her at the now pursuing men, with what was left of their escort seemingly left behind. 

As she yanked on the reigns to turn a rather steep corner she began to feel an ache in her left arm. Sparing a moment to glance down she was more than a little shocked to discover she had been shot, blood beginning to seep down her sleeve and onto her hand.