Disclaimer:  The Magnificent Seven belong to MGM, Trilogy, etc.

Note:  Thanks Jessie Jane for the idea of SCAN and for storing the meeting minutes and to LaraMee who got the ball rolling and everyone else who's contributed.

 

S. C. A. N. Meeting - The Chrises

By: MMW

Judge Orin Travis sat in his chair at the round table. Looking around the room he could see most of the group was assembled. They were waiting for just one more person. There had been several who had been unable to attend this meeting, but the majority were in the room.

The door to the room opened and a breeze came in, causing the black duster the man was wearing to billow around him. The light glinted off something silver on his gun belt. Looking around the room he nodded at the men looking back at him before moving to take the last seat.

"Now that we have all arrived," Orin began, "I believe we can start our meeting. Welcome to this first meeting of S. C. A. N." He paused for a few moments waiting for some sort of response. He was met with hazel stares all around. Releasing a sigh, he tried to figure out where they could start. All of the attendees were known for being tight lipped to the point where it was believed they said no more than three words a day. His eyes fell on a boy about eight years of age sitting in his seat, a glass of milk before him.

"Why don’t we begin with your complaints?" Travis was met with a steady gaze. Running a hand through his hair, he tried again. "Why don’t you tell us what they’ve done to you?"

Silence and stares.

Clearing his throat, he thought back to what he knew of the boy. "When we first met you, you had just arrived in town after leaving an orphanage." Silence. "Did they hurt you while you were there?"

The little blond narrowed his eyes as he stared at the man. His dad said it was rude to ignore adults when they spoke to you and Buck said you had to be nice to judges, so he decided he had no choice but to answer. "Reckon," he replied reluctantly.

"And what about when you came to town?" Travis prodded. "Were you perfectly healthy or did Nathan need to help you?"

"Nathan," came the response.

"OK," Travis said, turning toward the man sitting next to the boy. He met the cold glare and sighed. At least this one wasn’t dressed in black. The red uniform the man was wearing actually looked good on him. He wondered briefly if the others might take a hint. Of course, given the way the man in red had looked at the others, he could only assume that this one would be dressing in black shortly. "How about you? Any complaints about the treatment you’ve received?"

Silence reigned in the room.

Travis sighed. "Have you, maybe been shot? Stabbed? Infected? Lost your memory?"

Silence.

Clearing his throat, he turned toward the man on his left. This one was dressed in a black suit and wearing a black shirt with a black tie. "What about..."

The glare he received, silenced him and he quickly moved on to the next man also dressed in modern clothes only wearing a black windbreaker instead of suit-coat and smelling slightly of used gunpowder. A smudge of dirt graced his cheek and an earpiece hung down over his shoulder.

Travis just moved on. The next man he couldn’t quite make out since the hat was pulled so low over his eyes. This man had pulled out a pieced of wood and was whittling at it. "What about you?" he asked. "You’ve been shot, right?" He received a nod. "Stabbed?" Another nod. "Taken sick?" Another nod. "Mentally tormented?" Yet another nod. Travis sighed inwardly at the silent group.

Turning, he looked at the last man at the table, the one wearing armor with a large sword resting beside him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Travis leaned back in his chair. It was going to be a long night.

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The Chrises in attendance:

Old West Chris

Runaways Chris

Star Trek Chris

The Firm Chris

ATF Chris (fresh from a bust gone wrong)

Dungeons And Dragons Chris