A/N: So, I was on the M8 and I saw these signs:

RED X IS COMPULSORY

OBEY RED X

COMPLY WITH RED X

YOU ARE NOT EXEMPT FROM RED X

...so that was weird.

You may have guessed what this chapter is about. Review! :D

Red Ribbon: XI

Red Robin flicked his sword out and parried the Redcoat's wild bayonet thrust, then rolled over the surprised man's back, pulled out his pistol and shot him.

A second Redcoat aimed his musket at the highwayman, who retaliated by throwing a knife thirteen feet and catching him dead between the eyes.

Robin flitted from man to man like a shadow, but for Floyd Lawton he moved in slow motion. He could see every movement, every hesitation, every slight grimace, everything.

Deadshot smirked and pulled the trigger on his Baker rifle. The powder in the frizzen sparked, scorching his cheek; the rifle kicked backwards into his shoulder; and the rifle ball span out of the barrel and sailed towards the Robin.

And then the unthinkable: gold triangles appeared from nowhere and his perfectly placed shot reflected off them, and then the last thing he saw was his own rifle ball flying towards his left eye.

"Lawton! Wake up!"

Who was that? Who was calling his name?

"Wake up you useless Ozzie. Come on!"

This person was different from the last. A Liverpudlian.

"Please, Floyd. Don't die. Please."

This person was a woman. A voice he knew, and loved.

Floyd Lawton sat up straight, and took in a sharp intake of breath. He looked from left to right cautiously.

Surrounding his (admittedly blood-stained) stretcher were Lieutenant Wilson, Red Cross, and his Anne Silver.

"Thought we'd lost ya there, lad." Wilson said grimly. "But you might have wanted to be less accurate for once."

Lawton tried to blink his left eye, and found he couldn't.

He also noticed that everything looked the same distance away.

His hand shakily moved up to touch his face. He felt cloth bandages, and then nothing behind them.

"I've lost m'eye, ain't I."

It was a statement.

Red nodded. "Doc Light tried to fix what was...left...of 't, but the man could only do so much."

Lawton's shoulders sagged.

Annie stepped in. "It's alright, Floyd. You're alive, I still love you,and that's the important part."

"He made me miss...he made me miss!" Lawton mumbled to himself.

He looked up, steel in his eye. "I don't miss." he said determinedly, and dragged himself to his feet.

Red, Slade, and Anne followed him hurriedly as he lurched out of the triage tent and towards his own.

Lawton grabbed his rifle from where it was resting on the ground, coated with his own blood, and staggered towards the firing range.

Slade caught up with him and put a hand on his arm. "Calm down, lad. You're in no condition to be runnin' about with your Baker."

"With respect, sir, get the hell out of my way before ya get shot." Lawton snarled.

Slade stepped back, hands open. "Do your thing."

Lawton finished loading his rifle, taking a full three seconds longer than he usually did due to missing the ramrod, and aimed downrange just as Red and Anne appeared next to him.

"Law! The hell are y' doin'?" Red asked.

"Trying to shoot." Slade supplied.

The target looked very close to Lawton. Too close. He aimed low and fired, the bullet flinging itself into the dirt short of the target.

"Shit!" he cursed, then loaded again.

After five shots, Slade pulled out his spyglass and inspected the target.

"Sorry Lawton. One hit, four misses, and the hit wasn't too sharp either."

Lawton collapsed on the grass in despair. "What'm I goin' to do? I can't snipe with just the one eye!"

"Floyd, don't give up yet. We'll find a way." Anne reassured him, stroking his windswept and blood-matted hair.

Red looked at his dejected friend, and then at Lieutenant Wilson's spyglass. He looked again.

"Hang on. Jesus, that could work! Sir, I need a minute and I need Law." he exclaimed.

"What? What are you on about, Red?" Slade asked, surprised.

"I've got an idea."

Lawton was excruciatingly bored now.

He was sitting in the spectacle-maker's, while the owner Sam Sculler rifled through boxes of lenses to find one that fit him.

Eventually, one was found that corrected his one-eye-sight to what he found normal, and Red pounced upon it and dragged Lawton off back to the camp.

The Liverpudlian took a pair of leather straps, the cap from an old telescope, and then set to work.

He set the lens in the telescope cap, then tied the leather straps to it, cutting the slack off with his knife.

"Awright, what the hell are you doin', Red?"

"Shuddup and let me work, Law. Trust me, this'll work." Red replied, putting the lens over Lawton's right eye and tightening the straps over his head.

"There." he said, satisfied, and stepped back. "How's it look?"

"Normal." Lawton replied, a growing excitement in his voice.

Red clapped his hands. "That's right, I've good ideas sometimes. Now, lemme get sommat from m'tent."

Red sprinted off, and Lawton followed, running swiftly and without stumbling over anything. When he managed to get to Red's (and his) tent, he saw the Liverpudlian swathed in a black travelling cloak and a black jacket (obviously just his spare red coat dipped in black dye) with his sword-bayonet and a pistol at his hip.

Red smirked evilly and pulled a white death's head mask over his face. Lawton recognised it as the one he had been whittling for next to forever.

"We're on patrol t'night, right? So let's go hunt a Robin, Deadshot."

A/N: Possible not my best effort, but meh. Guess who Sam Sculler is!