After her dramatic exit through the saloon's window, Bandit landed in a heap of wood and glass debris. In a maneuver that would've carved up any flesh-and-blood burglar, she rolled sideways and scrambled to her feet to get a bead on her new surroundings. The last thing she needed was to leap out of the frying pan and into the fire, after all. For all she knew, there could be an angry mob waiting out here to finish what the drunkards inside had started and reduce her to squelchy scrap metal. Once her optical sensor re-calibrated to the bright afternoon sunlight, though, she found no hostiles poised to tear her limb from limb. Sure, there were a couple concerned passers-by drawn from the commotion inside the bar (not to mention the steady trickle of boozers from within, dazed and bruised as they licked their wounds) but for once the android wasn't staring down the barrels of any blasters. She sighed, letting out a cold puff of air from her neck hole, and rerouted her internal power off her combat systems. It looked like Bandit had successfully pocketed her ill-gotten gains and lived to purloin another day.
Having not properly copyrighted her escape strategy, however, Bandit quickly found herself with an imitator.
The android recoiled as one of the meatbags she'd been with crashed through another window and tumbled to a dusty, bedraggled stop nearby. To his credit, he didn't seem that much worse for wear, especially in comparison to the next unfortunate soul to be forcibly defenestrated. It was starting to get crowded out here, and if the bar brawl was about to be taken outside, Bandit did not want to wait around. Before she could beat a very hasty retreat, though, the din inside the saloon rather suddenly subsided. Bandit stood there for a moment, mentally optimizing her escape route as she tried to catch wind of what had transpired in her absence. In the end, she decided to plant her servos on the windowsill and stick her neck through the opening to see how the situation had evolved. After all, her prospects as a solo act seemed terribly shaky out on this inhospitable frontier. She'd seen the others' combat prowess firsthand, so there was no need to leave them for dead. In fact, she could easily imagine them taking control of the situation. When Bandit peered inside, that looked like just what had happened.
Over the course of a minute or two, it seemed, the locals had gone from trying to kill the marooned prisoners to entreating them for help. Not only that, but the huge fellow who would've happily put Bandit through a wood chipper a few moments ago was apparently what passed for a lawman 'round these parts. No wonder he hated her from the jump--cops like him could smell a wrongdoer from a mile away (which was her best explanation for how none of them gave her the benefit of the doubt, ever). From the looks of it, several of Bandit's accomplices were keen to forgive and forget the attempts on their lives as they accepted the townsfolk's request. Bandit could see the logic: if she and the others were officially helping the people here, the locals surely wouldn't try to kill them, and might even help them! Plus, if the hills here were rife with riflemen, going it alone would be even riskier than the android thought. With that, her own course of actions was decided. By the time Tarquin led Castleton, Kim, and Dusk back out into the sunlight, Bandit was out there waiting for them, posing like she owned the place (and hadn't just committed several misdemeanors). "Hey, pardners! Ready to wrassle us up some varmints?"
As the five set off, Bandit peered over her shoulder into the saloon where Charnud and Neri lingered. So, it would be the six of them from here on out, huh? No dangerous Ragon, no gassy space suit, no suave rogue, and no scary commando. There was safety in numbers, sure, but there were definitely some people the android could do without. Given the limited number of factions in play around here, maybe the ones who split off would turn up again later as adversaries. Only time would tell.
