The air was dry, thick with the scent of dust and gunpowder. A burning orange sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the abandoned Western town. Wooden saloon doors creaked as the wind howled through the empty streets, carrying the distant sound of a tumbleweed rolling across the barren land. March 7th and Kevin stood in the center of it all, their usual appearances unchanged despite the setting around them, their confusion evident.
"What... where are we?" Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his head. His boots left shallow imprints in the dusty ground as he took a tentative step forward, scanning the area.
March 7th turned on her heel, eyes darting over the eerily quiet landscape. Her fingers brushed over the rough wooden post of a nearby hitching rail, as if touching it would make this place feel more real. "This is so weird. Why does this place look like one of those old Wild West movies? And why does it feel so… tangible?" She kicked at the dirt, watching it scatter. "This better not be some kind of elaborate prank."
Kevin narrowed his eyes. "We were just back at our usual spot. How did we even get here?"
Before either could say another word, the heavy crunch of boots on the dirt road made them both tense up. From the shadows of a crumbling storefront, a figure emerged—tall, broad, and radiating an aura of danger. His long coat swayed with each step, dust kicking up beneath his spurred boots. The low brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face, but there was no mistaking the gleam of his eyes—cold, unyielding. Boothill.
He stopped a few feet away, arms resting lazily at his sides, but there was no mistaking the tension in his stance. "Doesn't really matter where you are," Boothill sneered, tilting the brim of his hat upward just enough for them to see his smirk. "What matters is that you ain't gonna be here much longer. 'Cause I plan on exterminatin' the both of you."
March crossed her arms, unimpressed despite the clear threat. "I seriously hope Robin was not behind this..."
Kevin exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I think she was... Why must she do all this..."
Boothill chuckled, a slow, deliberate sound that sent a chill down their spines. "Ain't for me to say. But if you're lookin' for someone to be mad at, well… too bad. I ain't in the business of answerin' questions. I'm in the business of puttin' folks in the ground. And you two? You're next."
Kevin's stance tightened, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the inevitable. "I don't suppose there's any way we can talk this out? Maybe figure out what's going on before we jump straight to the part where we try to kill each other?"
Boothill smirked, his fingers twitching over the revolvers at his hips. "Oh, there's been plenty of time for talkin'. But see, I ain't interested in chattin' when I got a job to do. And my job? It's real simple. I make sure folks like you don't make it out of here."
March sighed, shaking her head. "Is this a game to you? This is crazy!"
"Ain't no game," Boothill corrected, his voice low and dangerous. "This here's a test. A test to see if you got what it takes to walk outta here. And trust me, I ain't the type to let anyone pass easy."
Kevin cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders as he prepared himself. "Fine. If that's how it's gonna be, then I guess we don't have a choice."
March twirled her camera in her hand, her usual air of playfulness giving way to something more serious. "Guess that means we're doing this the hard way."
Boothill let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching toward his revolvers. "That's the only way I like it."
The tension between them was thick, the air charged with anticipation. Boothill moved first, his hand flashing down to his holsters in a blur. The moment his revolvers cleared leather, the fight was on.
Boothill fired off two shots in rapid succession, the bullets whizzing past Kevin and March as they dove in opposite directions. Dust and wood splintered where the shots struck, sending debris flying into the air. Kevin landed hard on his side, rolling behind an overturned wagon as he caught his breath. March, more agile, darted toward a stack of barrels, camera in hand.
Kevin peeked over his cover, barely dodging another round of bullets as Boothill advanced with steady, confident strides. "Man, this guy's got pinpoint accuracy!"
March glanced around, spotting a hanging lantern above Boothill's position. She quickly aimed her camera and, with a click, a bright flash burst forth, momentarily blinding Boothill.
"Gah!" Boothill grunted, stumbling back as he shielded his eyes.
Seizing the opportunity, Kevin rushed forward, leaping over a wooden crate and throwing a powerful punch aimed at Boothill's jaw. The gunslinger recovered just in time, tilting his head slightly to the side to avoid the blow before delivering a swift kick to Kevin's midsection, sending him skidding across the dirt.
March gritted her teeth and sprinted into action, swinging her camera strap like a whip, aiming for Boothill's hand. The strap wrapped around his wrist, and with a sharp yank, she nearly disarmed him. But Boothill was quick, twisting his hand free and retaliating with a backhanded strike that sent March stumbling.
Kevin recovered, shaking off the pain, and charged again. This time, he feinted to the left before lunging right, catching Boothill off guard. His fist connected squarely with the gunslinger's stomach, making him stagger. March took advantage of the opening, flipping backward and kicking Boothill under the chin, knocking his hat clean off.
Boothill spat blood onto the dirt and let out a low, dangerous chuckle. "Not bad... but I ain't down yet."
With blinding speed, Boothill spun his revolvers, unleashing a hail of bullets. Kevin and March were forced to split up once again, darting behind whatever cover they could find. The town echoed with the sound of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder thick in the air.
March ducked behind an old water trough, panting. "Any bright ideas, Kevin? Because this guy's not giving us an inch!"
Kevin wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. "Yeah… Just one. We take him together. No more dodging. We go all in."
March grinned. "Sounds like my kind of plan."
With a silent nod, they both leaped from their cover at the same time, charging straight toward Boothill. He fired, but this time they were ready. Kevin deflected a shot with a well-timed swing of a broken wooden plank, while March slid low beneath another, coming up fast with a flying knee aimed at Boothill's chest.
And so...the fight raged on.