I'M FINALLY PUTTING THIS THING UP! FINALLY! There's that stupid word count again so I'm not going to put up as much Author's Notes like I did in my Christmas Story XD. This is for Flame Falcon's SSB Western Contest. Never tried writing a Western, so I'm warning you guys now, it's going to bite. Forgive me if I make any mistakes regarding anything that involves the Old West, guns, facts, things like that. But what the hey, hope you guys enjoy my horrible story. :D Just letting you know, this was written way before DLC Content 2's announcement. Just letting you guys know. Or yeah, there will be character deaths...:D
Chapter 1
The wind often brought new and unwelcome things to the musty old town. They were usually tumbleweeds looking for rest, dust clinging for people, papers fluttering for attention, and other things busy people have no time for. Those busy people worried about more "important" matters. Those anxieties needed more consideration than those gone. What was the use of dwelling on the fading and lost? They came and went along with the wind.
However, the wind this time really outdid itself. It brought a young man this time. A few loitering townspeople looked to the East to find a dust cloud approaching them fast. The town itself being far from the East and isolated for many years, the occupants wondered about the new arrival. Their sharp eyes picked out the features the young man beheld: midnight Stetson pulled over his eyes, dusty jacket covered a dusty blue shirt, chaps protected wool trousers, black boots spurred the horse, black gloves twisted the reins, blue bandana threatened to choke the man.
Some of townspeople began to head back inside. They knew. They could smell it in the air. Smoke. Lots and lots of smoke. Like jerky. Only this was real smoke. The young man was going to create a wildfire.
The gray spotted horse finally reached the outskirts of the town. It panted for water and rest, clearly showcasing fatigue in its prime. Either the stranger was a brave man, or a foolish man. No sensible cowboy in that town overran their horses like that, though they had to admit that they would have enjoyed going at the high speed the young man was riding. Fortunately for the horse, its owner seemed considerate enough to get off. The young man took a hold of the reins and stroked the horse's face, whispering gracious words to it. He then led his companion to the side of a two-story building towards the stables. The two other horses inside ignored them as they took to an empty stall. The gray horse began slurping the water from the trough. The young man watched for a while before leaving the stables. He looked towards the saloon doors and pushed through.
Naturally, the occupants of the room quickly analyzed any new arrivals. If familiar, they leave be. If strange, they observe further, testing the newcomer's first impressions. The young man didn't back down from the stares. He glared at the drinkers before walking smoothly to the bar and sliding into a seat. The bartender, a brunette with unwavering eyes, smiled at the stranger. He continued to wipe the clear cup with his cloth.
"What would you like?"
"…" the stranger lifted the brim of his hat just slightly, revealing blue eyes. "What's your best?"
The bartender's grin widened, "I'll get you our special then, Crossed Animals." The stranger just nodded in reply. He watched the bartender twist the knob, filling the tankard with a bubbly, green liquid. The two exchanged, the drink and few coins. The stranger nodded his thanks before taking a sip. When he saw that his customer had no more needs to attend to, the brunette went to serve the other occupants. Unlike most people of his profession, the bartender left his customers alone, unless they wanted to spill their guts over his clean counter.
The stranger leaned forward over the bar, staring inside his cup. Despite its ghastly appearance, the drink really was quite delicious. He took a giant gulp this time. Everybody in the saloon knew that he was a real stranger around these parts due to the age-old dust clinging onto is clothes saw to it. And being a stranger around these parts was not a great choice. Especially with everything going on right now.
In contrast to the stranger's almost gentle entrance into the saloon, the next newcomer smashed right through. The inhabitants looked up only to quickly stare back into their cups or on their tables, the tension in the room almost tripling at the new arrival. The sheriff, dressed in orange with a red Stetson, scanned the area, his blue eyes finally settling on the stranger. Quick footsteps brought him behind the first newcomer.
"You've just arrived?" the sheriff asked gruffly. The stranger could smell everyone's fear, knew instinctively that he shouldn't do anything to anger this person. He looked up before looking back at his glass.
"Yeah…"
"Sheriff Sam. All arrivals have to report in my office. Long-standing rule," the sheriff crossed his arms across his chest. The redhead let the pause stretch for a moment before nodding his head. New as he was in town, he had no wish to piss off a figure of authority.
"Sure thing. Let me just finish this drink first," he quickly gulped down the beverage. The sheriff was nice enough to allow him that one request as he waited patiently for the stranger to stand. The orange cowboy jerked his head towards the door, implying for the redhead to go first. The stranger complied. As the two walked out of the saloon, the occupants seemed to exhale a huge sigh of relief. The tension those two brought was enough to suffocate a cow.
Once they were outside, Sam jerked a thumb towards a wooden building some ways down the street. "Over there," he stepped through the dirt, his boots whipping up mini sandstorms. The redhead followed behind. He paid a second look to his surroundings. He noted the multiple wooden buildings, some with a second story to them. The usual buildings were all there: saloon, bank, general store, town hall, tailor, and gunsmith. Interestingly enough, the redhead noticed that this particular town also had a schoolhouse just on the outskirts. This place he came to certainly seemed to be well off and pleasing to anyone.
As the two walked, the stranger sensed something past the sky above them. He didn't trust his eyes lest they gave him away. Instead, he relied on his other senses to figure out what was going on. The streets were a bit too quiet for his liking. Sure, it was around noon, the time when almost everybody was taking an afternoon nap right after their lunch. However the silence the two men found themselves in hinted that they were walking through a ghost town. The sheriff must have had the same thought because he held up a hand to stop the redhead. He sniffed the air once, twice, before grabbing the cuff of his acquaintance and yanking ground-ward.
"Get down!" Sam shouted as he pulled out his gun. The stranger grunted in surprise. His heart skipped a beat when he heard a bullet whisk by, just where his head had been. If not for the sheriff, he would have met his Maker. He looked to where the bullet came from, a fact made a bit easier by his quick reactions. He could just barely make out a brunette with a white feather in his hair duck on the roof of the saloon. Another noise from his right prompted the redhead to turn quickly. His revolver snapped from its holster with the speed of a rattlesnake. He pulled the trigger instinctively.
The bullet whisked from his weapon. It buried itself deep into the arm of the Native American hiding on the roof of the bank. The target growled loudly in pain as he turned to the side slightly. However, he continued to aim his rifle at the stranger, his finger twitching at the trigger. Fortunately for the redhead, instincts told him to roll right after his shot. The stranger leaped for the cover from the barrels in front of the general store. His eyes scanned the area quickly and noticed that Sam had also taken cover near the barrels of the tailor just opposite and few buildings away.
The sheriff cursed loudly, "It's those damn Twins again." He swore to himself that he would personally hand their corpses to the undertaker himself. He spied from his hiding spot, nodding to the redhead from the opposite street. The sounds of gunfire disappeared as rapidly as they had appeared. The silence stretched until a lone voice called out from the town hall. The redhead frowned as the Native American said something in his language. Clearly, their attackers had no fear of their targets understanding them. The only thing that the stranger understood was the word, "Dark Pit", and he wasn't sure what the significance of that was.
From the roof of the bank, the rifleman growled loudly in response. The stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out a mirror. He tilted the object to reflect the same Native American from before, allowing him to trace his moves. An annoyed growl and the sight of the young man rubbing his eyes alerted the stranger in knowing that his mirror was discovered. He quickly retracted his hand to keep it from being blown off. The voice from the town hall threw a few words before falling silent. The stranger began finding silence an extremely morbid and unwanted companion. How many times had he heard the banishment of noise these past days? It was starting to get on his nerves. The lack of activity after the first excitement was also getting on his nerves. Following that first gunshot, his blood was boiling to bring retribution to those who dared attack him in the first place. The redhead checked his revolver once more before deciding to take action.
"What are you doing?!" he could hear Sam shout as he sprinted from his cover. As he did, he turned to face the roof of the town hall. He could clearly make out the figure of the Native American standing ready with a rifle in his hands. His mind barely registered the fact that this Native American shared very similar characteristics with the other Native American as he brought his revolver up to shoot. The brunette responded with his own shot, albeit not as accurate as his companion. The redhead heard the bullet a few feet away from his arm and saw how his own had missed. He was about to dive underneath the cover of the bank's roof when the sheriff suddenly pushed him out of the way. The redhead grunted in both surprise and anger. He fell to the ground, the impact not strong enough to knock the breath out of him.
His anger evaporated when he saw his ally clutching his shoulder. The stranger saw blood dripping from the top of the officer's shoulder. His eyes scanned upward. The dark Native American that had shot at him first growled in a somewhat pleasant tone as he leaned backwards to not accidentally fall from his position. Before the stranger could shoot, the first Native American called out to the second. At the voice, the rifleman quickly melted backwards, holding his injured arm. The cowboy switched his aim to the brunette but he, too, had disappeared. His anger flared again before extinguishing. He scrabbled over to the sheriff to check the wound. His experienced eyes examined the wound and realization hit him. If the sheriff didn't push him out of the way, that bullet agonizing the sheriff would have found its way in his head. Sam grimaced at the wound. It wasn't something too bad, but it hurt like the very dickens.
"You…saved my life…" the stranger muttered. The orange-clad man snorted in response.
"I'm the sheriff. I'm supposed to be helping people here."
"Even at the cost of your own life?" the stranger's eyes flashed angrily.
The sheriff stared right into the young man's eyes. The first time he laid eyes on him, Sam knew that he was going to like him. The redhead reminded him of him when he was younger. There was a clear difference between the two, but nevertheless, they were the same in the more important aspects. He paused before simply answering, the usual gruffness in his voice gone, "You would have done the same."
At that statement, the stranger looked away. "No," he said bitterly, "I wouldn't have." He let his own pause stretch before asking, "Who were those guys anyways?"
Sam was about to reply when a sharp stab of pain cut him off. The gruffness returned as he replied, "How about getting me to the doctor's first, partner? It's just down that way." He pointed the opposite way of where they initially were heading. The redhead perceived a white building with the sign "Doctor Bros." He looked back at the sheriff and nodded.
"Yeah, I'll take you there."
...Yeah, I had to include Dark Pit in here somehow XD He's not really a main character, but he is a catalyst.
