CHAPTER V

The Dictator’s Dwelling

The Sheriff’s office was massive, at least 30 feet from wall to wall. There were trophies, golden objects, and gun racks across the walls. Display cases of things The Sheriff had stolen. Harold was surprised by the sight. In the middle, there was a throne of sorts, a swivel chair that faced away from them. Harold knew who sat in the chair. Danny did too, as he rushed forward recklessly, blinded by the perfect chance. In a flash, A figure jumped from the chair, and uppercutted Danny aside. He flew into the wall, and didn’t get up. Harold reached for Danny, but turned to look at his foe. “Well, well, well.” Said the Sheriff nonchalantly. “I knew you’d show your face here. It was only a matter of time.” He continued, staring right through Harold. “You… How did you do that?” He asked, perplexed. The Sheriff just chuckled. “Practice, I suppose. Which you clearly don’t have.” He said. “I know what you came for, Harold. The others want me dead, just to complete their mission, that they got from someone, somewhere far away.” The Sheriff explained. “But you are out for revenge, because I killed Doctor H. Am I right?” He asked. Harold was taken aback by how much The Sheriff had already figured out. “Well, yes-” “Perfect! This makes things much more fun.” The Sheriff interrupted Harold. Harold death-stared the cowboy, to which the Sheriff just smiled evilly. “You’re corrupt.” was all Harold had the nerve to say. “Well, the world doesn’t take kindly to good people. I learned that the hard way, and I’d have figured you did too.” The Sheriff admitted. He pulled his jacket out of the way, revealing a holster and pistol at his hip. Harold raised his dagger. The Sheriff observed it, then met eyes with Harold. The two stared each other down. Harold saw the Sheriff’s cold eyes. The eyes of a man who wasn’t afraid to kill. A trait Harold lacked, for better or worse? Harold didn’t know. BANG! In an instant, The Sheriff pulled out his pistol and fired. The bullet grazed Harold’s leg, racking it with pain. On instinct, he threw his dagger, before clutching his leg. The dagger knocked the Sheriff’s pistol clean out of his hands. The Sheriff, annoyed, began his approach. Harold, in a last act of desperation, threw a punch.

Wham!

Harold’s fist hit the Sheriff’s face, sending the latter stumbling back. The Sheriff looked up, angered. He straightened his hat, and judo-flipped Harold into a glass display, shattering it. Whatever was inside hit the floor with a THUD, followed by a million shards of glass. Harold regained his wits. And looked up, to see the Sheriff kick him another five feet across the room. “Get up! You’re wasting my time!” He barked. Harold got on his feet, shakily putting his hands in a fighting stance. “Give me…. Give me your best shot!” Harold shot back. The Sheriff grinned. “Now that’s more like it!” He laughed. Then, he tackled Harold into the wall. They wrestled with each other, both hitting the floor. Wham! The Sheriff kneed Harold in the gut. Pow! Harold smacked the Sheriff in the face. Eventually, the two separated and regained their footing. The Sheriff grabbed a rifle on the wall, and started firing across the room. Harold dove behind a desk. Ra-pa-pa-pa-pa!! Crash! Glass cases shattered, but no bullets hit Harold. Click click click! The gun was out of ammo, so the Sheriff tossed it aside, observing the mess he’d made. “The janitors are gonna have a field day with this room, once they’re done cleaning up your body!” The Sheriff taunted. Harold shook in his shoes, but slowly, anger rose inside of him. He jumped from his hiding spot, bringing his fist down on the Sheriff. It never hit him. The magistrate dodged, and kneed Harold in the chin. Then, he grabbed him by the neck and tossed him aside.

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Harold was hopelessly outmatched, and that was getting very clear. He couldn’t get enough hits in to really make a difference in the long run. The Sheriff picked Harold up, and slammed his head into the wall. Agony came over his whole body, and he elbowed the Sheriff in the nose to escape his grip. He dropped Harold, who could barely stand. “You’re disappointing me, Harold. I bet your friend could fight better than you.” The Sheriff laughed. Harold was overcome with fury. He stood up, and smacked the Sheriff in the mouth. He stumbled back, looking at Harold in surprise. “Easy there, you could hurt someone!” The Sheriff taunted. “Shut up!” Harold screamed back. He threw another punch, which the Sheriff blocked. Then, he kicked The Sheriff in the stomach. The Sheriff stumbled around, pulling out his backup gun. Wham! Harold elbowed him in the eye, making him drop the firearm. Harold snatched it out of the air, and pointed it directly between the Sheriff’s eyes. The Sheriff put up his hands, staring wide-eyed at Harold. Harold saw the fear in his eyes. “Harold… I… I didn’t think ya had it in ya…” He said slowly, still staring at the pistol pointed towards him. Harold was so ready to pull the trigger, but when he went to do it, he couldn’t bring himself to. He thought of Trevor, how shocked and terrified he was when… well, you know. He looked at the Sheriff, who was still staring frightenedly at him. He heard a voice behind him.

“Do it, Harold!” Danny said. Sanford was there too, helping Danny stand. “You got him, now do it!” He said again. Tears came to Harold’s eyes. “I… I…” He stuttered. The Sheriff was just as confused as the others. “I can’t… It’s not right. If I pull the trigger, I’ll be just as bad as him.” Harold finally said, dropping the gun. He turned to face Danny and Sanford. “I’m sorry, but I’m not cut out for this. If you want him dead, you do it yourself. I’m out of he-”

BANG!

Harold never finished the sentence. He was shot right through the chest, and collapsed. “Wha-?!” Sanford and Danny exclaimed “Mwa-ha-ha!” The Sheriff laughed, blowing the smoke off of his pistol. “You!” Sanford yelled, charging at the magistrate. He grabbed him by the shoulders, and threw him halfway across the room, toward the balcony. The two exchanged blows, but Sanford, being bulkier, gained the upper hand. Wham! Wham! Wham! Sanford punched the Sheriff in the face countless times, bloodying him up. Sanford kicked him backwards, making the Sheriff’s hat fall off. The Sheriff charged, but Sanford grabbed him by the neck, and took him backwards to the balcony. He held the Sheriff against the railing. Underneath them was a body of water, waves crashing below. “Kill me if you want, it doesn’t matter! I’ve already won!” The Sheriff laughed. “Gladly!” Sanford spat, before tossing the Sheriff off of the balcony. The Sheriff fell one hundred feet into the roaring waters below, to his death…

“Is there a pulse?” Sanford asked. Danny shook his head, sitting next to Harold’s limp body. “I don’t think so.” He said slowly. “Nobody can survive that.” “Well, we did our job, right? The Sheriff is dead. We can go home.” Sanford said. “Yeah… but we should help him, right?” Danny pointed out, nodding towards Harold. “Check his pulse again.” Sanford ordered. Danny seemed confused at first, but he did it. He was shocked. “What?” Sanford asked. Danny looked towards him wide-eyed. “Call the hospital! He’s still alive!”...

INTERLUDE

“We just got word from Plainstown, sir.” Said a general in army attire, waltzing in unannounced. “And?” Said the booming voice. “Trevor and the Sheriff have been killed.” He said bluntly. The shadowy figure growled in anger. “Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse.” He turned to face the general. His burning, yellow eyes pierced the darkness. “It’s about time I take matters into my own hands.” He continued. “You,” He said, pointing to a man leaning against a wall nearby. “Find the girl. And for you,” The shadowy figure continued, pointing to the general that had given the bad news. “Find the one who killed the Sheriff. Bring them to me. Now go!” He ordered, and the two men walked away. “Now, time for me to find the Nexus…” The figure said to himself…

End of Part I.