“High noon over Camelot. The fluorescent sun beat down on the rusted metal desert, when the Pendragon gang rode into town. Arthur was the brains of the outfit, with Guinevere’s pistol and Lancelot’s rifle following where he led. And here it led to Camelot, a two-cylinder town run by Lavinia Stone, as corrupt and foul a Sheriff as you could ever hope to meet, backed by her brutish clan.
She knew why they came. They wanted her town. Avengers or conquerors, who’s to say? She spat out a stream of tobacco that sizzled on the scorching steel floor.”
“Any sumbitch can pull this tin star from my stone cold hands, makes ’em rightwise sheriff o’ this here town.”
“The three Pendragons nodded and took their positions on main Street. The other end stood the family stone, leering and cradling their guns. The promise of violence hung heavy in the air. Arthur’s hand hovering over his Clarent 10 caliber railgun, an ancient weapon he took off a bandit tried to bushwhack him in one of the flooded sectors. The sun flickered and brightened, casting shadows from the run-down saloon behind them. as the clock tower started to ring noon.”