Patience Adams Archives
March 18, 2009
Stacy: Legend of an Outlaw
Digging through saddlebags for a spare clip, a single goddamned bullet, ANYTHING to deal with this bastard when he finally made it past the flimsy lock.
No ammo at all. Shit.
How did Mama’s little girl Patience get into messes like these anyway?
Oh yeah… that guy in Rooster Gulch. And the other one in Tombstone. Probably the one in Silverland, as well.
Freaking double standards. I had just as much right as they did…
The cheap lock finally gave way and three men piled into the dingy room. I pulled twin stilettos from my sleeves and grinned.
March 19, 2009
Stacy: New in Town
“Why, no ma’am, I was unaware there was a registration requirement.”
The woman gaped at me in surprise.
“But of course, dearie. Whores must register here in Harshaw just as anywhere else.”
“I’m not a whore,” I sighed wearily. “I’m a privateer, here on some business.”
She eyed me up and down skeptically - so what, I like pretty things - finally relenting when I showed her my SP license.
“I spose you’re here for Doc, eh?” she cackled. “Good luck with that one, dearie. You better shoot him before he has the chance to get those pretty pants off!”
March 24, 2009
Stacy: In the Character Lounge
“What’s she doing,” asked Patience.
“Procrastinating,” answered the Jack impatiently.
Uzi shushed him.
“Quiet, you. In such a hurry to return to the scene of the crime, are you?”
The Jack glared, Uzi glared back.
Cori snorted, most unladylike.
“You all complain, but every last one of you is kind of in a tight spot right now. Just enjoy the calm while it lasts.”
A chorus of jeers greeted this suggestion.
Comnard Vertnor beeped irritably, tentacles curling.
“You Hu-mans, so noisy! I should eliminate you all.”
Vertnor turned puce as Patience drew her pistol, cocked it meaningfully.
“Patience,” she said.
April 10, 2009
Stacy: It's a Name Not a Description, Dammit
I ran through the alley, six-shooter in one hand, rifle in the other. Jed wasn’t getting away from me this time.
Movement ahead… I dropped to one knee and brought the rifle up. Breathe, sight, squeeze. The bullet took him high in the chest and he dropped like a sack of rocks.
I walked slowly towards him. The streets were deserted, windows shuttered. Citizens knew better than to come between a SP and her quarry.
Jed glared up at me sullenly.
“For a little lady named Patience you sure ain’t got any,” he gasped.
I shot him between the eyes.
Stacy: I SAID, It's a Name Not a Description, Dammit
Shit. I just had to let my temper get the better of me. Again. Now I had to carry this bastard back to the Station.
I whistled a quick tune and moments later was joined by Ahab, my electric mule. He wasn’t much to look at, was probably one of the original series, but he was damned reliable.
We pulled up to the Station a few tics later. Several uniforms relieved us of our burden in exchange for a Death Voucher. I took it inside to the purser Stella to collect.
“Patience?” she snorted. “Honey, your momma mis-named you!”
April 23, 2009
Stacy: Doing Battle
“Yep,” the kid said. “Mister Pookie sent me, said to warn you ‘bout Doc. He’s headin’ this way.”
I tossed the kid a nickel, shooed him out. Doc was big time, the score that could get me off this circuit and set up with a patch of land. Somewhere hellandgone away from here. Somewhere you could see things coming from a long way off.
I dug through my saddlebags, found Special #12 and got ready.
The door slammed open and Doc stood there, just as fuckin’ gorgeous as I remembered.
I let my robe fall to the floor.
May 14, 2010
Stacy: Four Years Earlier
We hit the Alkalai Pan around noon, me and Ahab, and I wondered for the nth time why we didn’t travel at night like sensible folk.
"Nothing about this is sensible," I grumped, kicking a rock into some nearby scrub. A gasp of pain brought Ahab up short, ears pricked, and my Colt to my hand.
Somebody had worked him over but good, left him there to die. I crouched down and dribbled a little water into his slack mouth. His eyes flew open, as crystal blue as the noon sky.
"Shit," I said.
"Pleased to meet you," he replied.
May 17, 2010
Stacy: Four Years Earlier, Part Two
He said his name was Christian James, but I could call him “Doc.”
I never did.
He ate and drank what I offered, fell asleep mid-sentence by the fire. I searched him as thoroughly as possible then snuck his thumb onto my datapad’s sensor for a workup.
I drank coffee and kept my eyes anywhere but him while the pad did its data crawl through the ‘Net. Finally it beeped its results.
I spilled my coffee.
That…was a mule-load of money sleeping right there next to my fire. Scion of old money and wanted in five districts.
May 18, 2010
Stacy: Four Years Earlier, Part Three
He winced as another bullet spanged off the doorframe.
I raised his chin with my Colt and enunciated very carefully, “My name is Patience.”
His eyes crinkled a little as he held back the smile that might cause me to pull the trigger.
“I’m sorry, Patience. I honestly didn’t know about that warrant in Harshaw…”
I clipped him with the butt of the Colt then called out my name and license number to the posse in the alley. They withdrew reluctantly.
I cuffed my snoring bounty to Ahab and set out. Three days to Harshaw.
May 21, 2010
“I,” I said through gritted teeth, “am walking out of here.”
“Crawling maybe. Come on Patience, don’t be a mule, lie back down. You need to rest.”
I reached for the absent gun on my hip, going to teach that boy some manners, then my eyes crossed and I fell back on the bed. I decided right then that being hit in the back of the head was one of my least favorite pastimes, and resolved to shoot the next person who tried it.
Doc pulled the covers over me, all gentleman-like, not an inappropriate hand anywhere.
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