Arthur Kirkland never believed the day would come when he, the bandit with a reputation as the most dangerous man in the West, would be practically helpless; hog-tied with a gun barrel pressed to his temple.
He growled deeply, spitting curses at the man who was keeping him hostage. Curses that would put a sailor to shame. " Get the Bloody Hell off me, you cowardly son of a bitch!"
The man holding the revolver chuckled, and all Arthur could hear was a clicking as the hammer pulled back. And suddenly...
Bam!
The door of the room burst open with a loud bang, and the man cussed loudly, crying out in pain. A dark red liquid splashed across the white of the rag tied around the Brit's eyes, but he barely flinched, used to blood.
"Ya took too damn long." The British bandit grumbled. He heard a sigh, then his vision was returned as one of his gang members untied the white, blood-stained rag. The man mumbled an apology, pulling a knife from his belt and cutting the ropes that had previously chafed the blonde's wrists.
The gang ran out quickly, mounting their horses in smooth, practiced movements. The diverse coats of the horses created a multi-colour blur as they fled from the town, never noticing the dark brown horse following not too far behind them.
They passed through brush filled plains and open fields, until they stopped at the base of a cliff, and built a small camp a few yards away from the rock wall. The camp was small, only 3 tents set up for 5 men. 2 in each tent, with the third one saved especially for Arthur himself. Arthur sat outside the opening to his own tent, and leaned against the off-white canvas, letting out a relaxed sigh. To him, it felt much better to be out in the open air, with the fields and wild animals keeping him company, than staying in any city. It was too crowded in the cities. sure, it was much easier to pickpocket someone, or to steal from a local fruit stand.
But to actually settle down? The Brit would much rather prefer living out in the middle of nowhere, even if it meant running his own farm, or even growing his own tea leaves.
The sun lowered slowly, until the sky lay a dark blue, dotted with millions upon millions of dim stars, with a few exceptions. It all seemed peaceful enough in Arthur's mind, so he tilted his hat down over his eyes, closing them and drifting off to sleep.
The Brit opened his eyes to meet with the steely grey barrel of a gun. The gun was shaking slightly, and Arthur looked past it to see something that made him freeze. Emerald eyes met Bright Sapphire blue. Blue eyes. A blonde teen with beautiful blue eyes was holding a gun to Arthur's forehead.
Arthur let out an annoyed sigh, looking down. " Really?" He mumbled. " Ya ain't gonna kill me, kid. You don't have the look of a killer." The unknown blonde grit his teeth. "I'm not planning to kill you. I'm turning you in."
"..." Arthur broke out laughing and got to his feet, hitting the boy's pistol out of his face in the process. "E'rybody up. We need to keep moving." The Brit banged on the canvas door of the other two tents, waking up the four other members of his gang.
"Hey!" The kid followed after Arthur, surprised when the others didn't give him a passing glance. "What? What do you want, brat?" Arthur sighed, stopping suddenly. The kid bumped into him, and was sent sprawling to the ground. "I told you. I'm going to turn you in. I wanna be a hero."
Arthur snorted, picking up the blonde by his collar. "You wanna be a hero, huh?" Arthur smirked. " Git, you went after the worst person. Go home, before the Buzzards get to you."
"I'm not giving up." The teen spat, glaring at the bandit.
"Then be prepared to spend your life chasing me." The Bandit chuckled, a grin on his face.