Ranger sighed, pinching his moustache.
“I protect the King’s deer, which your friend was hunting. I knew people had settled here but it took some time to figure out it was you. You really are a slippery bastard, Robin. I was surprised to hear you had formed this... band of merry men. So tell me, you plan to fight with bows and arrows only?” Ranger asked and Robin sighed.
“I have a mini gun on my car. We can find some blasters I’m sure" Robin replied and Ranger shook his head.
“It’s just as well you know me then, isn’t it?” Ranger asked, motioning for Robin to follow him.
*****
Ranger led Robin through the wild and through the tall trees. He knew the wild better than Robin could have imagined, seemingly following some invisible path through the thick forest.
There was a large dome covered in moss which stuck out of the ground and Ranger walked over to it, turning a wheel on the top of the dome and opening a hatch to an underground bunker. He led Robin down a long ladder which led into a massive underground cavern-like structure.
There were simple furnishings; a bed with linens, a table, two chairs and wooden boxes stacked to the ceiling. Ranger led Robin to a long wooden wall, which he pressed inward, sliding the wall to the side to reveal a long narrow room. Robin’s eyes widened at a glorious sight – The walls of the room were lined with guns, bows and arrows. There were hundreds.
“What is all this?” Robin asked, half smiling as he admired the weapons; most of which were laser powered rifles and pistols. There were also grenade launchers and variations of arrows that no doubt had different functionalities.
“This... Is my gift to you. I have been storing these for a rainy day. If what you say is true, the shit is about to pour. You are quite mad, you know? But I will join you in your quest, Robin of Loxley," Ranger said, Robin shaking his hand.
“It will be an honour to fight by your side again my old friend,” Robin said reaching for a rocket launcher. The Ranger put his hand out before he could grab it.
“Not that one. That’s my little Much," he said.
“You named your gun after Much the Miller’s son? That kid that died in the war?” Robin asked and Ranger nodded.
“I understand you had a kid under your wing on Loxley yourself," Ranger added and Robin frowned. He didn’t like talking about kid.
“She... took off. Her family died because of me," Robin said quietly and Ranger shook his head.
“No, my friend. Her family were casualties of war, remember that. Their blood is not on your hands," Ranger added, sliding the entrance to the weapon room closed again.
“I told her I’d bring her home to her parents. You should have seen the look in her eyes when she saw what was left of her home. The anger. The hatred," Robin said and Ranger nodded.
“Yes. She lost her family, but thanks to you she kept her own life. She has you to thank for that!” The Ranger replied. Robin nodded, falling into a chair.
“So how long have you been living down here?” Robin asked and the Ranger smiled.
“Long enough to know the world above is turning foul, but not long enough to decide what I can do about it. You have a gift, Robin. These men look to you as their leader... and leading is something you were always good at. Men will follow you anywhere, even into the fires of hell. That is a rare thing. I will join you, not because I believe you can make a difference... but because you believe it. Your faith is what gives me hope, and hope goes a long way in dark times,” the Ranger said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. Robin nodded, letting out a sigh.
“Let us hope, that hope will be enough," Robin said and Ranger nodded.
“Hope is never enough. But it’s a damn good start," the Ranger replied.
*****
King Edward looked out of the window of Nottingham castle admiring the view of the city. Traffic flew past the window in droves, streaming by as if on some invisible road high over the city.
The king was a ruthless man, though he was also at 45 already feeling old. He was draped in red velvet, had a bulbous belly and a ridiculous white wig that concealed his bald head. He belched loudly as he nibbled on a chicken bone. His massive throne room was furnished only with a long table dressed for a feast, his golden throne and a dark red carpet. His adviser was a man named Nigel, who was every bit as pathetic and whimpering as his name. He walked over to the king, his tall skeletal body wrapped in a blue gown.
“Your majesty! The sheriff of Nottingham wishes to see you. The experiment was a complete success... He er... looks quite grotesque sir!” Nigel said and the king rubbed his red bearded chin.
“Well send him in, Nigel! And for goodness sake pour me some brandy,” The king added. Nigel ran out of the throne room, closing the large wooden doors behind him.
The king strode over to his throne and sat down, tossing the chicken bone across the room. The doors
