[right][h3]B1-LL3 "Billy" - Beck's Skiff, Jundland Wastes[/h3][sup]Interacting with: [@Moskau Spieluhr]; [@Jackdaw]; and [@Bea].[/sup][/right][hr]B1-LL3 enjoyed watching the light from his lenses play with the smoke. It was so rudimentary, so useless, but that's exactly why B1-LL3 enjoyed it. It could enjoy the little things now, after such a time of-
"On the left! Sand people!" 

As Beck's voice came by, breaking over the roar of the skiff, a series of warnings assaulted B1-LL3's visual interface. [CONDITIONS REASSESSMENT...] came first, before several [CONDITIONS REASSESSMENT COMPLETE: DANGER] and several [AUDIO ARTEFACT DETECTED] warnings flashed over. By the time B1-LL3 could pull its combat subroutines from secondary memory to primary memory, the no-named gunslinger - and just about everything else, for that matter - had already started moving.

Metal clashed against metal as B1-LL3 threw itself for something solid: for the bow of the skiff. The rifle came next, being thrown from the droids shoulder and into its hands. Steel slid and clicked as the ejection port of the ad hoc rifle was forced open, before it was racked shut again over a fresh energy cell. Then, as the rifle sat whirring and squealing as the gas from the cell was pulled into the weapon, B1-LL3 lifted its head just in time to watch the no named gunslinger glide her pistol abroad and advise over her own gunfire: 
"Aim for the heart, tin man." There was a moment to process before one of B1-LL3's lenses flickered off for a second. The droid winked.

With the noise from the rifle lifting towards a crescendo, B1-LL3 drew a pistol in its offhand and lifted over the cusp of the skiff's bow. The pistol didn't nearly have the same effect as most of the others on the skiff; it didn't crack like thunder or kick like a bantha. Instead, it more screeched as it threw yellow bolts across the terrain and into the mountainsides. The droids algorithms struggled to keep up as they attempted to follow the fight and make sense of where the attackers were, but B1-LL3 moved briskly never-the-less. Every time the algorithms pinged a potential weapons fire source, B1-LL3 put fire into it. It wasn't worried about checking and with a mere blaster, it certainly wasn't worried about bleeding an energy cell before the fight was over.

"Oy, lads!" roared the same voice. Beck, if B1-LL3 remembered right. The would-be shot caller on this skiff, if B1-LL3 remembered that right too. He seemed capable enough, was B1-LL3's initial verdict - not that they'd had much time to chat. "Get this cannon online and get us some damned surpressive fire!" B1-LL3 twisted around to check where the cannon was just in time to see Kid running for it. Twisting back about, B1-LL3 indiscriminately sprayed more blaster bolts at the ridges to try and give Kid a minute to get there and going. As the first volley came from the cannon, B1-LL3 dropped back below the bow.
"You alright to- use that, kid!?" B1-LL3 shouted, crudely cutting two voice samples together to make its voice. 

Then it came: steel groaning and roaring and cracking, threatening to give its water away. B1-LL3 peeked over the bow for a moment, sweeping its yellow lenses over the train and then towards the ridges.
"Keep an eye out for whatever that was!" came Beck again. B1-LL3 dared to continue to look, searching intently before being interrupted. It sounded like an oven timer, a cute little noise a dutiful upper-levels Coruscanti housewife would chuckle responsibly at while taking food out of an oven. It came from the droids rifle, which now thrummed and shuddered with anticipation. The droid snatched the weapon up, pressing it into its shoulder servomotor and bracing it on the rail of the brow. 
"Does anybody see- it!? Any ideas, boss!?" shouted the droid, intently glaring over its weapon as it swept over the ridges. It snuck a glance to the no-named gunslinger, recalling her words from before. Aim for the heart, right? The droid wondered if the rifle even could.