Sam swore as he missed the shot, dropping to his knee as the train came to a sudden halt and the random shot's hit the train near him.

"Damn," He grumbled then turned to the complaining Doctor. "I figured if we could take him alive we could get some more information on the rest of our targets. There is a good chance he got injured decently in the fall to."

With that Sam slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his pistol. He figured with Max and the chinaman heading to the back they could get Oner, while he would go to the front to assist Jim.

"I'm heading to the front to assist Jim as that is were the majority of them are, you want to come along Doc?" Sam asked as he started to cautiously head to the front to avoid being ambushed.

"Damn," He grumbled then turned to the complaining Doctor. "I figured if we could take him alive we could get some more information on the rest of our targets. There is a good chance he got injured decently in the fall to."

"That's... true," Everett admitted reluctantly. "Very well, I see your point."

The doctor adjusted his bowler as Sam readied his pistol. It looked like the train car was about to clear out. After Sam fired those shots, it was pretty likely that Oner and his friends would find out which car they had come from. Everett really didn't want to be the only one sitting inside when the criminals bust down the door to find the sniper. He imagined they wouldn't be happy about the loss of their horse.

"I'm heading to the front to assist Jim as that is were the majority of them are, you want to come along Doc?" Sam asked as he started to cautiously head to the front to avoid being ambushed.

"Er," Everett began, clutching his medical bag. Would it be better to follow Sam to the engine, where Jim supposedly was waiting along with a few thieves, or head after Max to the back of the train, where the fat troll Oner should be? Everett wanted to be available to give assistance if necessary, but didn't want to get in anybody's way during a probable gunfight. That's how he got shot the last time. It wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.

"Yes, I think I'll tag along if you don't mind, Sam," he decided. "Max, call out if you or Han need medical help. I'll come running." That was what he was getting paid for, after all. An asshole he may be, but he took his work seriously. He hoped he was making the right decision.

Oner leaned on the rails a moment at the back car staring at the door with his shotgun ready. From this point on he would have to make sure that the fools inside knew that even though he and his gang of thugs weren't the only ones with guns here that they should most certainly listen to him above them. So he had to make sure he wasn't a wheezing wreck when he went about explaining that, it kinda killed your intimidation when you looked like you were going to pass out when you threatened folks.

While the fat bastard caught his breath a couple of the boys had gotten into one of the store cars, and were pulling their last buddy in. Then Sam and Everette walked in, catching the eye of the pullers and sending them into a panic. Now panic is the bane of gunmen, it makes you shoot fast and frequently when you should be aiming, and combining this with the last fellow not being entirely in the car yet and this was not going to end well.

Meanwhile up slipped the last boarding bandit looking for the sniper that had tried to take him out a moment ago, but the damn car was empty,

"Gosh darnit shoulda never split from the darn group, now where are those no good meddlers?"

He was answered by gunshots on both sides.

Oner loosened the door and swung it open violently stepping through and blasting both barrels of the shotgun out, killing more than a few passengers and getting his point across in a big way. Worse still Max and Han were already in the damn car and in about the worst place you could be when being shot at by a shotgun, just about right in front of it.

Han had caught sight of the door about to open beforehand, eyes of a martial artist catching the small details, his reflexes pulling his greedy companion out of the way before they were turned into burger,

"AIN'T NONE A YA'LL MOVE, THIS IS A ROB-REE!"

Back with our favorite tracker and doctor the two bandits had rushed their guns out and were firing wildly their way, they were failing because they hadn't even aimed a little, but unless the two of them responded calmly(which considering one of them wasn't so familiar with such things was a bit unlikely) this could turn bad. Though not quite as bad as the third bandit, who now lacking any support was barely holding onto the car with the ends of his fingers, about to fall a non fatal, but certainly very painful distance down to the ground.

And the lone bandit was damn confused about which way he was supposed to go, damn plan was all messed up thanks to these do gooders, still the worst he could end up doing was getting caught in the crossfire, he'd wait here a moment. Keep an ear on the situation and when it might be a good idea to pop out.

Jim let out a long exhausted sigh as the bandits opened fire on the engineer's car, and shifted his eyes down to the terrified man huddling in the corner. "Why do they always have to do these things the hard way?" he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice, and a frown growing on his face. "It always ends the same way, anyway... and," he added as he holstered his six shooter and pulled the Henry off his back, "it's not like bullets for this damn thing are cheap, yanno."

With a softer sigh he shrugged and listened to the sounds of the bandits circling the engineer's car outside, waiting until when he knew almost exactly where they were before spinning to aim out the window, and take two shots in quick succession, each aimed at the central body mass of the two before rolling back behind the steel wall on the other side.

"See that? Two perfectly good bullets wasted on simple bandits," he grumbled to the engineer as he peaked out to make sure they were dead.

"Oh, bloody hell in a--" a panicked flurry of gunshots swept through the room, sending Everett ducking for cover. He practically threw himself between the nearest two rows of seats, bringing his forehead to his bent knees to dodge a flying chunk of upholstry blown away by the attack.

"I begin to regret going this way." he grumbled, his voice muffled. "The back of the train sounds more and more appealing right now."

Just then, a shotgun blast and a variety of screams erupted from the rear cars. Everett sighed.

"Well, nevermind. Sounds just about as pleasant here as it is there."

He shakily pulled his gun out from his jacket. It was loaded. He kept it out of sight for the moment.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Everett called. He had no idea where the tracker was, and he really wouldn't care to stick his head out and look unless it was absolutely necessary.

Still, he couldn't just sit here and cower. Well, technically he COULD, but the gunmen would probably find him after a while, and then he'd have to deal with them alone. He cracked open his medical bag and pulled out a small hand mirror. Using the mirror he tried to get a good look around the car. The view wasn't very promising: several men shooting away randomly, and one poor idiot hanging by his fingertips on the edge of the car.

Everett gave an involuntary grunt of surprise as a chunk of the seat flew off and hit him in the head. Bits of wood and upholstry were flying as the onslaught of bullets continured. Bloody hell, how many bullets did they have?

Sam was a bit more prepared for the Bandits then they probably thought he was as he dropped to his knees and fired of two quick shots before rolling into cover, hoping he hit the guy. He then checked himself to see if he had actually been hit and noticed a tear in his shirt.

"Damn, I really liked this shirt too." Sam mumbled to himself.


"Are you alright, Sam?" He heard the Doctor call.

"I'm fine Doc," Sam replied to him, "I saw two of em before hitting cover."

He then shimmied towards the wall of the car before popping up again and fired a quick shot at the one that had popped his head out as well before dropping back into cover again. This was going to be trouble in the tight space they had.

"AIN'T NONE A YA'LL MOVE, THIS IS A ROB-REE!"

More importantly Han heard an empty shotgun. With his rifle in hand he rose, still crouched behind the seat. His gun pointing right at Oner.

"DROP FUCKING GUN OR I SHOOT YOU DAMN FACE!"

Part of Han hoped that Oner would go for his pistols, so that he had the excuse to wound him. But he might miss and kill the fat bastard and he wanted and interrogation.