Ancient Apocalypse Greaves
"I stopped counting the Armageddons." —The Drifter
Drifter found what he was looking for. Three long containers marked "Tex Mechanica."
He slid a long blade under each lid and cracked them open. Rifles, sidearms, and… hand cannons. Drifter pulled a cannon out of the long box, held it up in the dim light.
No one made Dark Age guns anymore. Drifter had looked far and wide. The one source of Dark Age weaponry in this system was him. Gambit.
Dark Age weapons had been forged at a time when Light fought Light. Everything was just a little more efficient back then. And lethal. In Drifter's opinion, of course.
But Tex Mechanica? They came close. They made very reliable cannons. Drifter stared hard at the one he held. The stuff of legend.
The train car jostled, snapping him out of his daydream.
He took everything he could carry.