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Anyone coming down Main Street will encounter Scotch running up to them and extolling the virtues of working for Radley and/or joining the Bunch.

"Radley pays better than Malcolm and you get nicer accommodations! And you can party with us every night! What's more fun, video games and karaoke or guzzling whiskey till you barf?! Seriously, Malcolm's Crew is so BORING!"

Scotch talks a mile a minute and his idolization of Radley always comes through loud and clear.

Current Mood: chipper

ilovetanks

The dusk duel ended as Radley's Duelist fell to the ground, blasted to his defeat by the final attack of his opponent. Malcolm sneered, watching as the fateful lasso wrapped around the sniveling man and dragged him into the coffin placed in the hearse. Now he would be sent to the mines, where he would work for Malcolm for the rest of his life. Which might not be very long. But if he wasn't man enough to take it, he wasn't worth much to Malcolm anyway.

"Well, Radley, now you see again why we're the best," Malcolm crowed. "You haven't had a decent Duelist in I don't know how long! You're sure not likely to have one again." He headed back to his tank. "Let's go, Gentlemen."

Malcolm's Crewmembers also laughed, saddling up on their tanks and Jeeps to ride out in victory to the Red Scarf Saloon, as they had for countless days now. None of Radley's Duelists had been able to stand up to Malcolm's top man.