Hey everybody, sorry for the lengthy hiatus. DON'T WORRY, this story is far from dead. I started a new job and it's been pretty time consuming but luckily, it allows for plenty of brainstorming time so I can keep writing. I've currently got up to chapter 10 written, just not proof-read so look forward to more chapters to come!

Chapter 6 – The Gunslinger Pt. 1

It was the beginning of fall. A young boy, near the age of eight years with medium length blonde hair, sat in the back seat of a luxurious vehicle. Dressed in high-end clothing, he sat with an unhappy expression, staring out the car window at the passing world. His parents sat in the front of the vehicle, a man in his early forties typed on a laptop in the passenger seat while a blonde woman of a similar age drove along. They came upon an older, two story house at the end of a long dirt driveway, a few miles from a small town. The boy's eyes widened once they arrived and he quickly pulled off his seat belt and exited the car once they came to a stop. He ran towards the house and met a short, elderly lady who hugged him as he reached her.

"Hello Bradly, oh how I've missed you." The woman spoke. "Let me get a good look at you." She adjusted her large glasses and looked over the young boy. "My how you've grown!"

"Hi grandma." The boy responded.

"Hello Gladice." The blonde woman from the car joined them, the man remaining in his seat.

"Brenda, it's been ages. You should visit more often, or at least call sometime." The elder requested.

"I'm sorry, we've just been busy. And I can't stay, we've got a flight to catch." The woman replied, motioning back towards the car.

"Of course you do, go on then." Bradly's grandmother placed her hand on his back. "Come on in, I just made dinner." Bradly followed her towards the house, looking back over his shoulder at his mother reentering the car. No goodbyes were exchanged. Once inside, Bradly slid his designer shoes off and hurried to the kitchen table which was set with his favorite meal, roast beef. He energetically plated a large serving as the older woman sat across from him. They happily enjoyed the meal, exchanging light conversation.

"Where are they going?" The elder asked.

"Dad's got a presentation in Atlas, something with the military. And I heard mom say she had a conal- consut-" Bradly struggled with the larger word.

"Consultation." His grandmother aided him.

"Yea that. She said it was for something to do with dad's company."

"Hmm…you know, if it wasn't for your grandfather, your dad wouldn't have that job. He wanted you to have a good life, once he found out that your mother was pregnant with his grandson. So he hired your father on as an assistant but he was too good at his job, worked really hard, and shortly after you were born, your father was promoted to vice president when the job became available. Your grandfather may have had something do with with his sudden leap in status but either way your dad and grandpa worked right along side each other." Bradly listened wholeheartedly as he ate. "But it didn't last long." The elderly lady became saddened. "Your grandfather's health began to deteriorate that same year."

"What does deteriorate mean?" The young Bradly asked.

"He got sick." Bradly's eating slowed. "He was hospitalized a few days after your first Christmas, and died a little while later." His grandmother held her head low, upset by her own story. Bradly swallowed his last bite and toyed with the remainder of food on his plate. "But he adored you son." She continued, raising her head happily again. "In fact, he wanted to tell you something once you grew up and give you a present." Bradly's eyes widened with excitement at hearing the news of a gift.

"What is it?" He asked impatiently.

"I'll show you after we clean up." He grandmother smiled and began clearing the table. Bradly grabbed a few dishes and helped wash up. Once they were done, they made their way up the stairs of the home, Bradly was overjoyed at the thought of the present. They walked to the end of the hallway and approached the wall which had a large painting of Bradly's grandfather. He was a stronger built man with a tough appearance. His eyes were piercing but warm and his jaw was covered in a medium-length white beard and mustache. He wore a white, long-sleeved shirt covered by a black vest and a black western-styled hat. His left arm was down and out of frame, but right right was angled up and he held a silver revolver. A plaque on the bottom of the frame Read 'J. Smith of Smith & Wesson arms manufacturing.'

"Smith and Wesson, they make cool guns don't they?" Bradly asked gleefully.

"Well yes, your father's the current president, doesn't he tell you anything about it?" His grandmother asked him, slightly confused at Bradly's lack of knowledge.

"I don't...get to talk to dad much." He hung his head.

"I see..." She responded. She then grasped a necklace she had strung around her neck and pulled the charm out from her shirt. It was a small key. She wiggled the plaque free from the painting, revealing a small slot to which she inserted the key and turned it. Bradly heard a click followed by a deep thud. His grandma removed the key and stood back slightly as the wall in front of them began swinging outward. Once open, the door revealed a stairway. Bradly looked over at his grandmother, unsure of the section of house that had opened up. She smiled at him and motioned for him to go ahead. He cautiously stepped up the dust covered stairs, each creaking under his weight. As he peered over the next floor, he saw a large, dark room with two windows on each side that were covered by some dark curtains. Bradly stood at the top of the stairs, inspecting the room he could barely see. His grandmother walked to the windows and pulled the curtains aside, allowing light from the setting sun to shine in, causing the room to glow a soft orange. Bradly could see piles of boxes and old crates in the far right corner of the room and to their left, old training dummies mounted to the floor. Near the stairs, to his right was a cobweb-covered work bench and an old wooden stool, and to the right was a coat rack with a black western hat and belt with brown pistol holsters hanging from a peg. Something on the work bench caught Bradly's eye, a dark oak box with a lock on it's latch and a key laying near it. Bradly walked over to the bench and blew the dust off of everything revealing an intricate carving on the top of the box which read 'James Smith, S&W arms.'

"It was grandpa's." Bradly commented to his grandmother who had been sweeping the dust off the floor of the room.

"Yep. He owned them since he was a young man, given to him by his father and his father before him, like an heirloom." She replied, continuing to sweep. Bradly turned his attention to the key sitting to the side of the box. He grasped it and slid it in to the hole of the lock, which it fit snugly. He turned the key and the lock popped open with a click and a squeak from it's rusty hinges. Bradly pulled the lock away and lifted the box's lid revealing a red velvet material lining the interior. A pair of shiny, chromed revolvers with Ivory grips shone from the box, lighting Bradly's blue eyes.

"Whoa. Cool." Bradly exclaimed, awestruck by the firearms. He carefully gripped one with his right hand and pulled it from the box. It felt solid in Bradly's smaller hand but he felt connected to them and wielded it comfortably. He looked up at the coat rack and came up with an idea. After finishing her sweeping, Bradly's grandmother looked proudly at the old room, holding her broom in her hand.

"Grandma look!" Bradly called for her attention. She looked over at her young grandson who had loosely strapped the large belt around his waist and placed the black hat on his head. He had put the pistols in their holsters and walked over to his grandma, awkwardly trying to keep the belt around his waist. "Howdy partner." He joked. A warm smile broke across the elderly lady's face as she saw her grandson.

"You look just like your grandfather did." She shifted her gaze to a window overlooking the rear of the property. "Here, I want to show you something else." She lead the boy to the window and pointed to a structure in the rear yard. It looked like an old obstacle course made of metal polls and small wooden buildings, but it was run down and covered in tall grass and brush. "Bradly, do you know what hunters are?" She asked the boy.

"Yea, they're super cool fighters that kill grim and save people." Bradly enthusiastically responded. "I wanna be one but my mom says I can't." His enthusiasm faded.

"Well guess what. Did you know that your grandpa and I were hunters a long time ago?" Bradly gasped excitedly and looked up at his grandma's face.

"You and grandpa were hunters?!" Bradly's enthusiasm returned.

"Yep. And we wanted you father to become one too when he was young. Your grandfather even built him that training course back there and this room to train in."

"So dad was a hunter too?"

"No, he didn't want to fight. He was too afraid of the grim and didn't like shooting guns."

"I like those things. Could you teach me how to be a hunter?"

"I don't know, think you could handle it?" Bradly's grandmother looked down at her overjoyed grandson with a proud smile.

Over the course of the next month, Bradly's grandmother taught him how to load and fire his grandfathers revolvers and set up targets in the yard for him. They cleaned out and fixed up the old training course which Bradly wouldn't stop running through. He eagerly jumped from obstacle to obstacle, laughing and yelling in enjoyment. Bradly picked up the usage of the revolvers like a natural and was able to fire accurately fairly soon and over time, the guns felt less heavy to him as his arms became stronger from getting used to the recoil when he fired them. During a session of target practice, his grandmother heard her phone ring from within the house.

"I'll be right back, be careful gunslinger." She told her grandson. Bradly thought for a moment about the name he had just been called.

'Gunslinger.' He repeated in his mind. He returned his attention to the targets at the edge of the property and a glimpse of the training course caught his eye. He thought for a moment before coming up with an idea. He placed the guns in his back pockets as the belt was too big for him and ran off.

"Hey mom, looks like our business trip is going to last a bit longer than expected. I hope that's ok." Bradly's mother's voice came through the phone speaker.

"Oh that's fine, Bradly and I are having a blast." The elderly lady responded.

"Wonderful. Thanks mom." Before she was able to hang up her phone, Bradly's grandmother spoke up to halt her.

"Aren't you going to ask how your son is doing?" She asked her daughter-in-law coldly.

"I've got to get going, Gladice. It was nice talking to you." Brenda impatiently responded, ignoring the question and hanging up. The elderly woman shook her head in disapproval as she hung the phone up and began walking back out to find Bradly. When she reached the rear of the home, she noticed Bradly was no longer shooting at the targets. As she scanned the yard for him, she noticed the targets she had placed were also missing. Concerned, she began searching for the young boy. She searched the interior of the house, every room, until she was convinced he was still outside. Upon returning to the rear yard, she could hear the echo of gunshots ringing from the training course. Confused she wandered over to see what Bradly had been up to. Bradly had set the targets from his make-shift firing range throughout the obstacle course and was running through it, shooting at the targets as he went. Impressed by his ingenuity, the elder watched as he leaped and vaulted over the obstacles. Bradly pushed himself to perform, unaware of his new audience. Firing his weapons has he flew through the air, he struggled to hit the targets accurately. Ending his run, he panted hard in attempts to catch his breath and reloaded the pistols wanting to do it again.

"As clever as always." Gladice spoke up, surprising Bradly. "Why don't you come inside and take a break?"

"No." Bradly snapped, determined to keep training. "One of these days, mom and dad are going to take me home and I won't get to have fun like this anymore. I want to get really good at this so maybe they'll let me do it at home and then they might let me go to hunter's school." Bradly began crying as he spoke, upset at how miserable he felt at home. "I don't get to do anything at home, I just sit in my room or wander around the house all day."

"Don't you have friends you can go play with?"

"I did, but mom said I could get hurt so I'm not allowed going to play with them anymore. I sometimes play with the cleaning ladies and the butlers but they're no fun." Bradly's tears became tears of frustration.

"I see...well, I've got good news then." Bradly looked up at his grandmother. "Your parents had to extend their trip so you won't be going home any time soon." Bradly's watery eyes widened with happiness. "So come inside and eat something, if you want to keep training like this you'll need to keep your energy up. I'll even bake you some cookies later."

Over the next few weeks, Bradly trained harder and harder. He managed to fly through the obstacle course faster and faster while hitting the targets with extreme precision. His grandmother had also been instructing him in hand to hand combat on the training dummy in the house attic. With his new found strength in his arms, his strikes were hard and fast and he quickly picked up on the few fighting techniques his grandmother taught him. His mother had called again and explained that they would be back in Vale within the next few hours and be by to retrieve Bradly the next morning. He felt repulsed by the idea of returning to the home he loathed so much but was sure that his new found abilities would impress his parents enough to make his life better.

"Grandma, I want to make a few more runs on the course before bed." Bradly explained.

"It's getting pretty dark now, and cold too. Wouldn't you rather sit here with some hot cocoa? I can tell you some more stories about your grandfather and I when we were hunters."

"Just one more?" He pleaded.

Gladice sighed. "Alright, one more go." She stood to gather their jackets and followed Bradly to the back of the house. The yard was dimly lit by the setting sun which had just fallen below the horizon. As they passed through the rear door, Bradly's grandmother sensed danger and immediately became suspicious of the yard.

"Bradly get back in the house." She ordered firmly. Bradly spun to face her as he walked across the porch to the stairs leading to the grass.

"Why?" He asked as he stopped. His grandmothers eyes widened in fear as the large, black figure of a beowolf stood behind her grandson. Red eyes peering down at him like a predator eyeing it's next meal. Gladice grabbed the nearest object which was her trusty straw broom and lunged at the beowolf as it swung it's large claw down towards the child. She pushed Bradly out of the way and off his feet as she stopped the grim's attack with the wooden handle. Bradly crawled away backwards from the beast, shocked and scared.

"Get to the attic and close the door behind you!" She barked, straining under the strength of the monster. Bradly hesitated. "Now!" His grandmother yelled, pushing the beowolf back and striking it in it's jaw. This gave Bradly the opportunity to run passed her, through the open door of the house and up too the attic where he closed the heavy door behind him. He sprinted up the stairs and to a window overlooking the yard to see if his grandmother was ok. He scanned the yard and saw five more beowolves approaching the house with his grandmother engaged in combat with the first. The head of the broom had broken off and she was wielding the remaining handle like a rapier in a fencing stance. She knocked the grim to the ground with a quick swipe of the stick and drove the sharp broken end in to it's chest, killing it. Another beowolf had pounced at the elderly lady which she deflected with a strong slash killing it in the process as well. Bradly was proud of his grandmother for her amazing fighting skills but noticed that she seemed quite tired already. The third grim lunged at Gladice, slashing at her with it's paw, she blocked it again but the wooden stick was too weak and broke in to two. She wielded the individual pieces in each hand and repetitively stuck the grim with great speed, finishing it off by stabbing one of the pieces of broom handle in to the side of the beast's head.

Without warning, another beowolf had launched in to the air, pouncing on to the unsuspecting elder. With the other two grim still approaching, Bradly began crying, terrified of losing his grandmother. He stepped away from the window and back off until he bumped in to a crate. He caught himself on it and his hand met the familiar feel of hard fabric. He looked down at the object, tears nearly blinding him, and found his grandfather's hat. His fear and sadness was overthrown by a sudden rush of hatred and determination. Swiftly donning the hat, he drew the loaded pistols from his back pockets and ran at the window. With a crash of glass, he leaped in to the darkness with a burning desire to kill the monsters. He flew through the air and began to fall from the three story building at the grim mounted atop his grandma, he fired two round at the beast forcing it's attention at him. Bradly then dragged his feet bellow him and struck the beowolf on it's head, forcing it away from the elder before crushing it's skull under his shoes. Turning his attention to the approaching beowolves, Bradly tucked and rolled as he had done many times before in the training course, before halting in a crouch. The last of his momentum carried through his arms, outstretching them towards the beasts. Bradly aimed the pistols at their heads and fired each gun simultaneously, as though by instinct, sending a mass of lead through their brains, dropping them.

"You really are a true hunter Bradly. Just like your grandfather." Gladice spoke softly, injured, but alive. "It's in your blood son." Bradly rushed over to his grandmother and helped her in to the house where he called for emergency services.

Upon returning home and explaining what had happened during his time with his grandmother, Bradly's mother had become furious. She lectured Bradly relentlessly over the danger he had been in, how he could have been seriously hurt or killed, and confiscated her fathers equipment. She explained how any word of Bradly's actions at his age could reflect negatively on the company and instructed him that he was not to leave the house without a dedicated escort approved by his parents and that they would be hiring a private tutor to home school Bradly from now on. Any time they had important guests, Bradly was to either stay in his room or be well dressed and be 'seen and not heard.'

"So you're just going to keep me locked in the house like a prisoner?" Bradly cried.

"It's for your own safety and security of the family name." His mother responded as she left his room and closed the door behind him. Bradly collapsed on his bed, infuriated and frustrated, crying uncontrollably. Remembering how happy he was at his grandmothers, flying through the training course, he decided that since he was going to be locked in the house all the time, that he would make it worth his while. When his parents weren't around, he would run through the halls of his large home and leap over furniture, and mantle staircases like obstacles.

Bradly began to develop resentment towards his parents, he became defiant and resisted any order his parents gave him and loathed being in their presence. This disconnection with his parents continued for the years leading up to his twelfth birthday which was normally was the annual day his parents seemed to actually care about him. They would send him gifts, including a scroll the previous year, which Bradly had no use for other than to contact his parents and servants. He saw these gifts as jokes, and felt that the only reason his parents sent them was to make them feel good about themselves. This birthday was different. Throughout the entire day, Bradly waited in his room for a servant to appear with his annual gift, but to his surprise, nothing came. He called his servant asking if she had heard from his parents recently to which she responded, 'No, but I can contact them for you if you'd like. I believe they're in your father's office.' Bradly hung up his phone and angrily threw it across his room. He ferociously swung open his door and stormed through the house to his father's office. Bradly entered the office where his parents sat, glued to their work.

"Does anyone know what day it is?" He asked firmly.

"May nineteenth."His father responded in a tired, indirect voice.

"That's it?"

"Bradly, do you really have to bother us like this? If you need help with your school assignments, I'll have a servant assist you. We're busy." His mother snapped, returning to her work. Bradly felt betrayed and crushed. His parents had forgotten his own birthday. This enraged Bradly, and he exploded in to a full sprint out of the room. He ran through the halls angry and heartbroken, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't live like this anymore. He ran blindly until coming to the large wooden doors of his parent's bedroom. His anger focused on the thoughts of his parents as he kicked in the door and found himself alone in the large, elegantly decorated room. He began ransacking the room, manically throwing furniture and other objects around, smashing everything he got his hands on. He found a metal decorative fire stoking rod near a large marble fireplace and returned to his destruction.

Nearing exhaustion, he stood in the dismantled room with destruction surrounding him. Bradly spied an untouched picture hanging of him and his parents when he was a baby on a wall in front of him which caused his anger to boil once again. He walked over to the picture, scanning it, wishing his family was as happy as they seemed on the canvas. His anger reached a tipping point causing him to go berserk, striking the picture over and over in to little pieces with the stoking rod. After eviscerating the print, he scanned the wall in front of him for another object to destroy, when a metal safe sat in the wall where the art had hung caught his attention. Bradly didn't know the contents of the safe, but he wanted it, whatever it was. He began prying at the handle with his metal bar, wrenching and straining to open the door. It began to buckle under Bradly's strength, driven by insanity. After seeing the door begin to give way, he drove the end of the metal rod in to a gap between the door and the safe's body, prying harder to get it open. Eventually, the door gave out and blew open revealing it's contents to the enraged boy. Peering in to the wall safe, Bradly rage fled his body, as the objects within brought him comfort and satisfaction. His grandfathers Pistols, hat, and belt with holsters along with a fair amount of ammunition sat waiting. Bradly knew that as long as he lived in his family's mansion, he would be a prisoner forced to live by his parent's will. His choice was simple as he darted out of the room and passed a servant who had come to investigate the open doors. Upon seeing the armed youth and the destruction behind him, the servant called Bradly's parents in a panic.

Bradly ran to his room, and frantically gathered some clothing and oddities he cherished, planning on leaving the estate for good. As he prepared his items, he heard his bedroom door gently open. Startled, Bradly reached for his pistols at his sides and turned to see the intruder.

"Wait, don't shoot. It's just me sir." His personal assistant claimed, sliding in to his room and closing the door behind her. "The entire house is on high alert and police are on their way." She moved to the end of Bradly's bed and placed a brown rucksack on it. "I hate seeing you trapped in here as much as you do, so I'm not going to stop you from doing what you want. Here's some food and supplies, leave through the garden, I'll throw everyone off your trail. Just please, take car of yourself." She left the bag and hurried back to the door before smiling at him and leaving. Bradly packed the bag with his belongings and threw on a jacket and shoes from his closet. He opened his window and looked down over the rear of the house and on to the freedom that lies ahead of him and jumped in to a hedge below, rolling as he met the ground and ran. Once at the rear of the property, he mantled and tall fence and stopped at on the opposite side. He looked on, knowing his future would be rough, but he was free.