Jack Singer: To The Rescue!

Fifteen minutes ago, a rather empty and silent street in West World was completely inactive save for a few simulated tumble weeds. Now, however, it has erupted into a full out chaos. Dust was flying and gunshots could be heard echoing throughout the air.

Jack Singer, dressed in a brown trenchcoat and cowboy hat, with a blue bandana wrapped around his neck, pressed his back against the side of a general store as a few lead bullets came whizzing past him. "Son of a bitch!" He hissed through the thin material of the bandana, which he had pulled up over his nose and mouth to block the dust and dirt in the air. He pulled opne the chamber to his single-action revolver. Three bullets left and he left his last box of bullets behind when he was ambushed.

He didn't even know what he was doing here. Well, he knew why he was here, but he didn't know what he was thinking. His best friend Amber Langly worked at this park as an IT supervisor. When he heard about the park going nuts, he jumped into action without thinking. If Amber was in trouble, he had to come to her rescue.

In retrospect, it was probably a poor decision. Jack didn't even know if she was still in the park, and here he is, searching around like a madman. And now he was cornered by three crazed whores with a handguns. Since when did prostitutes carry heat?

Jack peered out from around the corner of the building. Three fembots still stood at a distance, wearing skimpy red dresses and holding revolvers. Jack quickly swung his head back around as he saw them lifting their weapons.

"You can run, but you can't hide, sugar." The first girl cooed. Jack just swore again and gripped his revolver tighter.