Chapter Text
The years are slowly ticking by into a new age. An age of revolutionized equipment and an ever dwindeling tolerance for outlaws roaming the midwest.
Despite the efforts, Woody Pride holds himself high, fighting against normality to live a life of freedom and exploration - never tied down to a promise of law. He's relitavely known - not by name, but by the identity he lacked. He kept his features hidden, and didn't let much shine through the protective wall he'd buit up since childhood.
Simply put, the man was a mystery. He wasn't an inherently 'bad guy' - just a lonesome soul living off the little change in his pockets, secluding himself from the towns when possible.
It's also worth mentioning that the west is not all it seems these days. Twenty or so years ago, when Woody was a young rancher learning how the world worked with his sister, the sky ripped itself open, forever bleeding an endless seam of black against a blue canvas. No one knew what caused it. No one even knew what it was.
What they did know was that the creatures that had arose because of it were dangerous. Kill or be killed became they life they knew, but at least it was still living.
As they grew, so did the world. The Rift, as they reffered to it, still loomed above, but the threats were less of a thing to fear and more of a nuisance. It became easier to co-exsist with the anomolies, and that puts us where we are now.
It's the late 1800's, and Woody Pride was ripping across the land on his steed, Bullseye. With a bandana to hide his identity, and a poncho to catch the wind as he rode, he truly was the model outlaw. Intimidating, yet mysterious in ways he hadn't allowed anyone to uncover.
Right now, he was in pursuit of a bounty. It was just some low-life scum, but money was money, and Woody needed more of it. He reached for his lasso on his belt, unwraveling it and setting up his knot. He'd played cat and mouse on numerous occasions, so this wasn't much of a big deal to him.
Just as he was about to make the catch, the air shifted. Something was wrong. Something was happening.
Materializing from the rift, something large and metallic started descending from the sky at an alarming rate, heading right for Woody's path. The cowboy pulled back hard on Bullseye's reins, trying to direct him litteraly anywhere aside from the toppling ball of fire.
The whole shock of everything happening so fast sent Bullseye spiraling, and Woody was bucked off in a matter of seconds while his horse sped away. He hit the dirt hard enough to knock the wind out of him, his hat askew on his head as he struggled to pull himself up from the ground. When he craned his neck back up to the ship, he realized there wouldn't be enough time to move.
He wasn’t exactly under the ship, but he knew he was near enough to the point he'd be affected by the initial impact.
The crash was inevitable, and Buzz shut his eyes, tensing himself up it the pilot seat where he was trapped. The ship rattled when it collided with crust, sounds of metal peeling and scraping against itself rose over the rumble of the earth. Smoke infested every crevise of the ship, and the impact had temporarily taken the ranger out after he had jerked hard enough to crack his helmet on the control panel in front of him. He lay against the now broken panel of the ship, helmet breached and leaving him to breath in the toxic byproduct of his own mistake.
The dust and smoke that had billowed up after the crash was blinding, stabbing at Woody's eyes and seeping through his bandana, making it nearly impossible to breath. The earth shaking beneath his feat had struck the fear of God into his heart, and the heat of the ship mere meters away reminded him that he was, in fact, very mortal. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up from the dirt with a groan, having been lucky enough that none of the peeling metal had managed to hit him. Even so, it took a moment to gather his bearings as he remembered what having stable legs felt like.
In the time Woody had been using to calm down, Buzz had been fighting to wake back up. The dull aching in his skull made the situation a lot harder than it needed to be, but against all odds and the sharp tug in his shoulder, he persevered. Slowly, he pushed himself up, hacking up a lung from the smoke infesting his helmet. He quickly clicked the button on the side of his suit, forcing it to retract. He had a little more breathing room with the whole ship than with just his helmet.
His eyes, hazy as they were, scanned the control panel while his fingers worked, trying to find the release of the belt holding him in place. The call button to Star Command creased his brow, and he shook off the immediant, trained response to want to call, finally escaping the prison that was the safety belt. It pulled back with a click, earning Buzz the freedom to escape.
He balanced precariously along the side of the panel, keeping his steps careful in the slanted ship as he slowly got up. He was hit was an immediant dizzy spell, and he held onto the chair, feeling it shift slighty against the angled weight he put on it. He glanced around the ship, desprately looking for Sox. He wasn’t quite sure where his little friend had clattered to.
Spotting him stiffly laying on the ground, he quickly picked him up, holding him close to his chest. He was deactivated, giving Buzz another reason to internally panic.
He glanced down to the now shattered glass dome that once safetly housed him, then dropped down out of the ship. The strength he right now lacked caused his knees to give, and he hit the dirt harshly, his suit protecting him from the scattered glass below. He held his body up with his forearms, his chest heaving with each struggled breath against the polluted air. His vision was starting to blink again, and he wasn’t sure if his body would have the strength to get out of the toxic clouds.
Woody tried to navigate through the grit and grime, but at this point up was down and left was right. He ended up getting closer to the ship, and would've turned right around in not for the specimen he just barely spotted through the thick.
He immediately reached for his gun, approaching with the carefulness of a man who'd been burned before.
Buzz groaned as something swiftly shoved him to the ground. His arms were pretty much folded under him, Sox laying just next to him, still unresponsive. Then he heard the click of metal. The click of a hammer being pulled back and the cylinder of a single-action being rotated to a hot round.
Great, first five minutes on an unknown planet and he was already about to die to a local inhabitant.
"Who are you?" A demanding voice growled from above, boot digging into the Space Ranger's back. It wasn’t exactly mean, the way he talked - just weary and forceful enough to state that he was holding the power in this situation.
Buzz could do no more than grovel against the dirt, unable to actually get anything to strum his chords in response. He was actively bleeding out from the skull, to be fair.
He felt the boot ease a fraction, but he knew the gun was still pointed at the back of his head.
"Don't make me regret this." The stranger spoke again, a little resignation to his voice that Buzz hardly managed to recognize past the gravel. Moments later, hands were hauling him up to his feet, a significantly taller man supporting his weight with a grunt of effort.
Buzz didn't fail to check and make sure the stranger also had Sox - which he did. The stiff feline having an arm hooked around the stranger's belt.
Speaking of, the man was unlike anything he'd seen before. Buzz had lived a life mostly comprised of space suits and... regular clothing. This man, however, was dirty and dressed like someone you'd see at a rodeo. Through the dust he couldn’t really make out the details, but he knew there was a lot to him he'd need to figure out.
For now, though, the two of them were focused on escaping the dust. Buzz could feel every step thrumming through his body like a chore, and his breaths had gone ragged against the pollutants attacking his lungs. Not to mention the wound to his head ended up dripping into his right eye, which wasn’t the most favorable feeling ever.
"I just need you to go a little further.." The stranger hauling him mumbled, the strain in his voice shying through his bandana. Buzz wasn't exactly light. Around 250 without the suit, and with it nearly 300 pounds. This deranged western-dressed man had some muscle to him, and for that he was grateful.
When they finally trudged out of the dust, Woody took a minute to make sure Buzz could stand on his own, then closed his lips around two fingers, whistling sharply. He noticed the bewildered look on the space man's face, promptly ignoring it as a horse came speeding towards them, coming to a clean stop a couple feet away.
The cowboy walked over to the horse like this was an everyday occurrence, talking lighty to the creature for just a moment before beckoning Buzz over with his finger.
He slowly approached, barely keeping himself up. When he neared, he felt the gloved hands carefully grab at him, the strain on his body being partially relieved again. Then the hands turned to arms, and he was quick to realize that the ground was no longer under him.
Woody had picked Buzz up with a struggled breath, lifting him high enough for the ranger to semi-easily get on the four-legged creature. Yeah, okay - stronger than he looked. Noted.
"Bullseye here's gonna take you to my camp. I'll catch up." He explained calmly, taking the robotic cat from his belt and sitting it on the saddle between Buzz's legs. "You don't touch shit before I get there." It was not an ask. It was a demand.
Buzz gave a swift nod, stiffening a little under the glare of the cowboy. He grabbed onto the horn of the saddle, not really having any idea of how to ride the horse. When Woody gave the mare a light pat, Bullseye started off without complaint. At the very least, the horse seemed strong. Well-loved.
Buzz was kind of dizzy the whole ride there. The repetitive bounce of the trot was enough to rattle his brain, and he wasn't sure if he was nauseous because of the gash or the motion - which was new considering he basically lived in space. The horse was calm, though, and seemed to know where it was going.
Then, it made it's way off the dirt paved path and into the nearing foilage, ducking among low hanging branches. Buzz swiftly lowered his body, one arm protectively holding Sox as he manuvered around the bushes Bullseye so casually moved through.
And then the forest parted into a nice clearing. The sun was shining through, just about overhead indicating that it was a little past noon. The heat was... rough with his non-operational suit, but it was fine. He'd live.
When the horse stopped at a post, Buzz carefully slipped off, holding himself up against the creature for a moment as he caught his breath. He was trembling from the strain on his muscles, and he opted to just stand here for a moment rather than take in the camp. Not that he could see more than a couple feet ahead without the world blurring into unknown splashes of color.
Woody held back in order to give the area a quick search. Ensure that no one had been around to watch him take in the 'anomoly' that was Buzz. He figured if anyone had saw the stranger in his weird gear, they'd had a post out for his head. Things from the rift weren't typically... welcome. Nice or not.
After searching the area, he concluded that somehow, no one had seen. Now, they were in a pretty barren area - but thr crash had still had occured on the road, so it was better safe than sorry. He began to return to his camp where he assumed Bullseye was already waiting for him.
Like predicted, when he pushed through the forest and into his camp, the little crew of weirdos was waiting for him. He looked over to where the ranger was sat, his fire from this morning burnt out. The man was lazily petting the head of the.. cat thing, looking a little out of it.
Instead of greeting him, Woody made his way to his makeshift tent, grabbing a lockbox and swiftly walking back over to him. He stepped behind Buzz, grabbed his face unceremoniously, forcing his head back and his gaze up.
"Keep your head up for a moment.." He ordered, his eyes scanning over the slightly scabbed wound. Buzz held a bewildered look on his face, having barely even noticed Woody's presence. A brash man, for sure. He didn't fight him, though. Mostly because he was too tired to protest, but partially because he appreciated being taken care of, even if it was by some dirty man who had him at gunpoint about a half hour ago.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Woody prodded the wound slightly, examining the worst parts of it. Glass was digging into the man's flesh, which he doubted felt very good, and the stream of blood down to his eye seemed less than appreciated.
He carefully wiped his eye with the pad of his thumb, then wiped the blood on his chaps before crouching down next to him, letting his neck relax.
"So. Who're you?" He hummed almost casually, cracking open the lockbox and digging out some rubbing alcohol and cotton he'd stolen not too long ago somewhere in St. Davis.
"..Buzz Lightyear..." The ranger responded lightly, voice recovering from the recent smoke that had infested his lungs. "Space Ranger-" he continued, though, he assumed the cowboy had no knowledge of that.
As expected, he recieved a slight pinch of brows and a glare. Not a necessarily mean look, just kind of... judgemental.
"Okay...?" He shook his head, focusing back to the task. "Hold still," he then warned, swiftly tugging out the shards then pressing the alcohol soaked cotton ball to the gash.
Buzz sucked in sharp, the stabbing pain being a wake-up from the earlier throbbing ache. He bit his gums, trying to divert the immediant pain. His eyes focused down at the badge pinned to the cowboy's poncho, re-reading the 'Deputy - Sheriff' it had engraved to distract himself.
Woody cleaned the wound with a care that his exterior and voice lacked, a certain expertise behind his actions indicating that he was familiar with situations like this.
"So.." Buzz breathed out, trying to let the stinging pass. "You're local law enforcement..?"
"Somethin' like that." He returned simply, not elaborating. He didn't really get deputized to help. It just kinda happened when he first arrived and managed to help stop some escapees. He decided to take the title because it looked cool enough to want to wear.
After disinfecting, he pressed a cloth to the wound, then wrapped it with an old gauze (that he also stole) to keep it down.
"That feel okay..?" He mumbled, light grabbing Buzz's chin with one hand and turning his face over to make sure nothing else was actively bleeding. Buzz nodded against his hand, not having the strength to want to elicit a verbal response.
Woody studied him for a moment, shut the lockbox, and quietly stood up. He extended a gloved hand to Buzz.
"I'll let you get some rest... you can take my mattress for now." He offered, pulling Buzz up when the ranger took his hand. He seemed to like the idea of laying down.
Woody led him over to the awkwardly small tent, helping him to plop down and fall back on the clunky mattress. It wasn’t the worst - but, by no means was it comfortable.
He kept his eyes open long enough to watch Woody stare for a moment, then walk off without a word. The stabbing dulled when he managed to doze off.
In the meantime, Woody made his way back over to where they'd been sat, picking up the robotic cat and turning the feline over in his hands. What an odd little creature.
Then it's eyes flickered open. They met gazes.
"WH- WHAT THE FUCK???" Immediately, he tossed the cat like it was on fire, backing away from the spot it had landed.
The cat landed with an oddly human 'oof', popping up with an ease that Woody was immediately skeptical of. His hand darted for his gun on his hip, and he pointed it at the cat.
Sox stared at the gun, hopping in visible distress and taking a stiff step back.
"Woah - okay. Hi there, I'm Sox - notice how I am not trying to kill you!" He immediately attempted to diffuse, a robotic humm to it's voice that made Woody question exactly how human Buzz was himself.
He stared at Sox's big ol' eyes for a long moment, his own gaze hardened, then slowly lowered the gun with a hesitation that showed his guard wouldn't drop for shit right now. Sox's gaze drifted past Woody and to Buzz, and he immediately started to him.
"..What happened to Buzz?" He mumbled, clearly worried. Woody grabbed the cat by it's body, holding it far from his face and watching as it's legs still attempted to walk.
"He's just peachy - focus on me. What the hell are you-?" He immediately redirected, curiously turning the cat over from the very careful distance.
"I'm Buzz's emotional companion," he explained happily, not exactly minding the careful flips. His eyes remained on Buzz, head turning unnaturally against the stranger's curiosity. "Why do you have Buzz?" He the followed up, his gaze snapping to Woody.
He dropped the cat in partial fear for the sudden movement, shifting back instinctually. He kept calm enough to not draw his gun again, at least.
"..He - well.. you both crashed here. I happened to be there. Decided to not let him die, so you're welcome." He explained relitavley calm for how tense he was. Sox processed it for a moment, then sat.
"Beep boop, beep boop..." he continued for a moment, head rotating in a 360 that threw Woody off. Then his gaze snapped back to the cowboy, a slight surprise on his face.
"We're in the 1800's.." he noted, expression shifting to something more thoughtful as he considered what exactly happened during their attempted escape.
"Uh... yeah." Woody hummed, having believed that was obvious. "What- are you two from the future?" And he kinda laughed it off.
Then his brows pinched as he considered it.
"..You are aren't you?" He mumbled, curiously crawling back over to Sox and picking him back up again, closer this time now that he was starting to put everything together.
"Affirmative!" Sox exclaimed, just as surprised as Woody. Time-dilation had brought them to the future, yes - but for them to have gone back in time... and this far..? It seemed.. unlikely. "Though, I'm.. not quite sure how."
Woody hummed lightly in response, sitting cross-legged and letting Sox fit in his lap.
"That's.. yeah - I dunno I have mixed feelings.." he decided, shaking his head. He mindlessly pet the cats head. It was almost instinctual with having an animal in his lap. Sox purred lightly, but continued to talk to Woody.
"So, what are we doing all the way out here? Sensors suggest the nearest town is.. out of reach." He mumbled, trying to gauge who exactly this dirty man was supposed to be.
"I brought you two to my camp. I'm pretty sure if anyone else had seen ya'll, you'd have been shot dead," he replied a little too calmly, glancing to a still passed out Buzz that had slept through the ruckus.
"I see... so the local inhabitants are.. unwelcoming?" He questioned, creating a database on the planet.
"Uh.. yeah, pretty much." He nodded, not sugarcoating it. These two were considered 'anomolies', having come from the rift. That meant that they technically weren't to be trusted.
Then again, here Woody was - very skeptical, but still trusting them. Sox quietly took in the camp as a whole, noting everything about it.
The clearning the camp was in overlooked a lake, a broken dock dipping into the water, sitting stagnant. The camp itself is small. A cloth tent housing a broken, clunky matress (that Buzz was on) and a few crates with some personal trinkets. A guitar rests leaning against a nearby tree, a couple of old sheets of music held down by an empty bottle. A shotgun is near the tent, currently out of commission with empty shells sitting near it.
In the middle of the camp, where they were sat, is a burnt out fire, charcoal collapsed in on itself. One stump is left close enough to sit on, a testimony to the lonely life the outlaw probably lived. A pot hangs over the coals, held up between two sticks.
And finally, a post to hold horses where a healthy looking mare currently stands. Bales of hay and other treats are nearby, out of reach to the horse, but close enough for convenience.
"So you're a... robot cat?" Woody breathed out after a minute, eyes once again narrowed as he looked Sox over again.
"Mhm!" Sox hummed happily, glancing up to Woody. For a second, the cowboy's eyes softened, and then he glanced away back to Buzz, redirecting the situation immediately.
"..So, what's his deal?" He questioned, brows knitting in a semi-curious manner. His voice came out a little quieter - more skeptical. "Is he a robot too..?"
"No, no, he's human last I checked," Sox explained lightly, not minding the questions. He preferred it to a gun. "That suit he's wearing is a Pulsar-400-Enviro-Suit! Though, to your terms, just really fancy armor."
Woody nodded slowly, then glanced back to Sox.
"And he.. won't try to kill me in my sleep, right?"
"I hightly doubt it."
"Oh, okay.."
Silence passed for a moment, then Woody released a breath, slumping onto his back in the dirt, hat skewing on his head. Sox padded up and lay himself on Woody's chest, glancing down to the cowboy.
"What's your title?" Sox hummed, wanting the data to store. He visibly hesitated for a moment.
"Woody.." he mumbled after a minute, watching the cat process and save the information for later.
"For how scary you look, that's a rather nice name."
"Thank you. I think.." he glanced away, not quite sure what exactly that was supposed to mean. The two chatted back and forth until Buzz would eventually (hopefully) wake up.