Bold: The Ranger and The Robot

It was a late summer night, and the red sun cast large shadows across the town of Appleloosa. The streets were desolate, not a soul could be seen. The only activity came from a saloon in the center of a long row of buildings. The double doors swung open and out came a stout, light brown colt with a black mustache. He wore a blue waist coat with a sheriff badge pinned onto it and a black hat with a red stripe through it. He trotted out into the center of the sand and dirt path that lead straight through the town. He studied the area around him, and looked back towards the saloon.

"Come on out boys." He called. "We got work to do." Moments later a group of ponies with a variety of facial hair wandered  onto the street. They stopped beside the Sheriff.

"Uh, sir?" A skinny pony with glasses asked. "We ain't seen no dangerous activity in Appleloosa for months now. Why do we even bother with these daily patrols?"

The Sheriff turned on him. "Listen up Specs, or for that matter, any of you who think similarly. We gave the good citizens of this here town a promise. That we would watch over them, and protect them from anything that'd put 'em in harms way. Now I don't know 'bout you, but I intend to stick to my word."

"But, sir." Specs persisted. "There ain't nothing that could put 'em in harms way. Every night we go out patrolling this town and every night we find nothing!"

The Sheriff grinned. "We'll, Mister Specs, do I need to remind ya that y'all were the ones who volunteered to do this? You wanna go home and snuggle up in your duvet while the rest of us, true stallions, do the dirty work, you be my guest." Specs stood speechless.

"Anypony else got a problem with our routine?" The Sheriff asked, the rest were silent. "No? Splendid. Now get your backsides into yer teams." On his orders, the group split up into four teams of three.

"Now," the Sheriff continued, "myself and my accomplices will be searching the south of town. Specs, y'all can take the apple orchards, Braeburn, y'all can..."

"Sheriff! Sheriff!" An eager voice called in the distance. The Sheriff turned and watched a young colt with a beige coat, light brown hair and a black hat dash towards him.

"Dale? Dale, that you?" The Sheriff called. Dale arrived in front of the group, he was out of breath. "Bit late for a boy to be out ? Ain't it?"

"I'd prefer," Dale said between breaths, "adolescent."

"Oh, don't confuse me with your fancy gibberish boy! You best have a good reason fer shouting yer mouth all across town."

"Sir, I think we got a problem." Dale said nervously.

"What is this time? Monsters? Aliens?" The Sheriff retorted.

"A... robot, sir." Dale muttered.

"A robot? A robot!" The Sheriff laughed. "Son, that is by far the most ridic-" And then he saw it. A mechanical creature jumped from out of the shadows and landed a few metres away, it's body was grey and dusty, possibly silver once, it's eyes were red and gleaming, an it's spike tail and horn whirred and spinned. The Sheriff gulped and gritted his teeth.

"Nobody move a damn muscle." He whispered. The robot gazed at them, then turned its attention to a blacksmiths it charged into the wall, breaking it down, dust shot out and shrouded the scene.

"Uh, Sheriff?" Specs asked, quivering. The Sheriff was motionless.The robot emerged from the blacksmiths , carrying a small pouch full of metals.

"Required elements gathered." It said in a shaky robotic voice. "MERDA 3 returning to repair station." Then it launched itself into the air, turned face down and tunneled through the earth.