CLEARING LEATHER: BY DESERT RANGER CARACAL.
LOCATION: EL BOLSILLO DE HIERRO. A MINING TOWN ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF NCR TERRITORY IN WASHINGTON.
DATE: JUNE 19TH 2279.
TIME: 12:00 PM.
TEMPERATURE: 100°F OR 38°C.
The new west was in many ways much like the old west. Granted, there were the obvious differences in species, technology and so on, but it was still land that the NCR sought to colonize and with their own settlers. Towns popped up, towns grew, and towns became official NCR territory. The more peaceful areas were often in northern California, Washington and Oregon, though that didn't mean it was all free from suffering.
A mining town set on the outskirts of NCR territory in Washington knew it well. Their mining of iron for steel manufacture was valuable for the NCR war effort, to forge various items that were used in combat. As such, the town had a fair bit of wealth, which attracted raiders, robbers, and other criminals.
Recently, the town collectively shook in their boots at the arrival of a feared gunslinger, a man known only as Caleb who had come from the Texas wastelands. Little was known about him beside his love of killing anyone who dared try to best him in a duel, and his love of killing in general. Rumors ran about that during his time in Texas, he'd killed at least 200 men in duels with various pistols, he wiped whole towns out on a whim, and that he'd killed a sheriff for looking at him in a supposedly wrong angle. Regardless if they were true, it was high noon and Caleb was running around town, and screaming for a challenge.
"WHO DARES TRY AND BEST THE TEXAS BUTCHER?! ANYONE WHO TRIES, DIES! BUT IF YOU KILL ME, YOU'LL BE A LEGEND FOREVER! IF YOU FAIL TO STOP ME, YOU'll BE NUMBER 36!"
He screamed out. He was 5 foot 10 tall, his tanned white skin spoke of his travels through the wastes, and long unkempt hair spoke of a wild life. He wore an old west style gunslinger's outfit, and wielded his custom made .357 revolver with an extra long 12 inch barrel. The revolver also had 35 notches on the barrel, commemorations of duels won, and the only ones he could claim to having done for sure.
The nearby townsfolk were utterly petrified by him. Even if not all the legends were true, he was terrifying as hell with charisma unmatched. He looked around at them, and soon began grinning at a young boy as he began unsheathing a knife.
"COWARDS, ALL OF YOU! I'LL SKIN THIS BOY ALIVE AND WEAR HIS SKIN AS A COAT BEFORE BURNING YOU ALL IN THE CHURCH!"
He screamed. Before he could move more than an inch at the boy, he had his arm grabbed and brutally squeezed by a sudden assailant, making him drop his knife.
"ENOUGH. You'll perish today, but by your own game. You'll be buried in a shallow grave after I'm done."
Said the individual. He tossed the gunslinger aside, as his figure came into Caleb's eyes. Soon the feline gunslinger came clear in view, as Joseph stood with his back to the townsfolk, before approaching Caleb slowly.
"A CHALLENGER? AT LAST, I THOUGHT YOU YELLOWBELLIES WERE TOO CHICKENSHIT TO FIGHT ME! Now, the duel's simple. We'll start with our backs to each other, then advance ten paces. After that, we'll turn around, draw and fire."
Caleb said, calmer now that he'd gotten a taste of his opponent. Not an incompetent fool like many of the others, but a ranger. He'd slain rangers before, but only one of them was a Desert Ranger. Dumbass had decided to duel the gunslinger after Caleb insulted his favorite lady one too many times, and as such, notch 31 was cut. Joseph nodded, the caracal heading over to the gunslinger as he got up.
"I agree. We'll begin now."
He said, turning his back to Caleb's as the gunslinger got behind him. At this point, the entire town had dropped everything to watch what happened next. Would the feared gunslinger make his next notch, or would he be felled by the caracal?
Soon enough, the game began as Caleb began to slowly make his ten paces, with Joseph following suit. Ten paces later, both turned around as the gunslinger got a little giddy. He hadn't killed many mutants before, much less caracal mutants. He'd be making his first kill of one of them with Joseph when he cleared leather and put that .357 between his eyes.
"YOU BETTER GET READY TO FUCKING DIE BIG GUY, I'M GONNA WEAR YOUR PELT AS A BRAND NEW FUR COAT WHEN YOU'RE DOWN!"
Caleb shouted, restraining his maniacal laughter for the moment.
"SHOYN GENUG, JUST FUCKING GO!"
Joseph replied, clearly tired of the boasting. Both of them got to quickly drawing their revolvers, grabbing hold of their well used wheelguns as Caleb got excited to draw the ranger's blood. They cleared leather fast, clearly not wanting to suffer the fatal consequences.
Before Caleb could cock the hammer back on his gun, he suddenly stopped as a shot rang out. Pain rippled through his chest as everything got blurry, and when he looked down he was treated to the horrible sight of Joseph's shot. It had ripped through his chest and torn through his heart.
He was dead. 35 men were all he killed, and now he got to feel the terror of passing into the unknown. Caleb's last sight was a blurry visage of the man who slew him as he stood, surrounded by townsfolk. Wherever he was slated to go, Caleb was without a doubt going to pay.
Joseph on the other hand was relieved as he saw Caleb drop dead, and so were the townsfolk. One feared ranger down and dead, one less problem for them to deal with. The townsfolk began cheering after the shock settled, some of whom even trying to hug the ranger after he holstered his revolver, much to his annoyance as he shoved them off and walked away. Luckily for him and the others, the sheriff soon came in and began whistling to get them to stop.
"Alright alright, we all saw what happened, this mutant here is a hero for stopping Caleb in his tracks, he deserves a reward, excetera excetera. Thing is, we gotta take care of this body here, plus I doubt this hero wants to be swarmed right now."
He said, as paramedics rushed over to the body, getting it on a stretcher and rushing it off for autopsy and burial in an unmarked grave. The sheriff walked over to the site of the body and picked up Caleb's revolver, walking over to Joseph soon after and putting it into the caracal's right hand.
"Take this, you've earned the right to wield it."
He said, before he suddenly got the revolver pressed up to his chest as Joseph shook his head.
"I thank you for the offer of his gun, but I'll decline. My revolver is good enough for me, and I think his gun would be best in your hands. Instead, I just request some ammunition, a hot meal and a caravan out of here."
Joseph said with a calm look. The sheriff took the revolver back and nodded.
"Alright, we'll grant your wish."
The sheriff said, putting the revolver into his belt and looking at the townsfolk.
"What the hell are you doing now? Go on and git, no need to offer much of anything else, he'll likely decline it anyways."
He said as he and the other townsfolk left. Afterwards Joseph got what he wanted, and after finishing his meal and getting his requested ammunition, he left town on the next caravan out, beginning to make his way back to the Mojave after his wandering up the country. After all, he'd seen what he needed to see here, now he needed to get back home.