I adjusted my hat. The wide brim style was a little out of style. The new fashion was the thinner, smaller things. Fedora’s I believe.

It didn’t matter as much to me. I had long since given up on that old game. Being a fashionable outlaw was no longer my right.

The Rainbow Ranger was the one who held that spotlight.

I had met the man once. During a holdout at the general store.

I have no regrets leaving the title of ‘fashionable’ to that little oddity. Looked like the kid walked through the paint store and tripped on everything.

My worn hat. Once the highlight of my accessories was now worn. Bleached lighter by the sun, and much like me, was simply a frayed object of a bygone era.

The canned soup was overly salted. I grunted as I looked at the label. The regular brand I had once loved. They changed the picture twice, and somehow the recipe had changed with it.

I sighed as I realized that old age was catching up with me. The nights out were now bitter rather than pleasant. The alcohol had lost its character in place of cheap, mass-marketed none sense.

I finished up my evening meal and chased it with what was left in my canteen of water.

A loud belch drew the attention of Lassie. The synthetic steed moved over and settled down behind me. I leaned into her. Her warmth, her stability.

With three claps, my Camperfire 2000 turned off. The warm glow of the now cooling coils gave me enough light to grab my blanket, snuggle into Lassie, and fall asleep.

Often times it was all I had out here in the wilds of the new world.

The three moons were hanging overhead. Luna. Lua. Luena.

I had visited them once a year ago. The world of Esyiuala was beautiful with its amber hues.

I reckoned it was nearly time for me to move on again. Too many people here and the bounties had mostly dried up.

I just had to take care of something in the morning, and I could simply make my way to either a new world or look closer to the equator.

I would appreciate the warmer weather.

----------------------------------------

The hilltop held a large stone outcropping. It was a leftover from an old movie set filmed here a few years ago. Live Film Hill, they named it.

A retrospective film, using retrospective styles! Just like the early days of the digital dawn.

My eyes caught sight of her. The woman who had called me out. An Outlaw’s Duel.

Winner takes all. The loser just dies.

Lassie walked up to the other mount. Another synthetic steed. A newer model than mine. I grunted as I realized that it was several models newer.

This Carolina was a somebody. Which also meant that any victories today would bring troubles tomorrow. Anyone who was a somebody meant that they had friends.

Friends of the dead were always trouble.

“I didn’t fink you would show, Mista Deaf,” she welcomed me as she had her hands on her hips. Her long coat hid her figure, but her stance showcased the young, fit woman she was.

“You ain’t the most important thing today darling,” I replied as I slid off Lassie, and I sighed as I slid off my command medal. It hung around my neck on a necklace and was a simple thing. A command gem embedded onto titanium.

I slid the command medal over one of Lassie’s ears. I spied that Carolina had done the same with her steed. Her clear white gem to my smokey blue.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I then slowly made my way up to the plateau.

“Shallo views for a dead man,” she chuckled as she fingered her gun.

I simply made my up to the hilltop.

The view was very nice. The morning light was present on the horizon, and a nice soft breeze passed by.

My fingers stroked my own gun. The God Gun. The Reaper of Souls. The Line of Judgment. The Bringer of Ruin.

The prize that even planetary kings would kill to get. Yet everyone also knew the risks of obtaining it. You would have to pry it off of my cold, dead fingers. There would also be catastrophic damages incurred.

People had tried to steal it. But the safety was perhaps more gruesome than my intentional kills.

Carolina chuckled as she got into her stance. Arms hanging loose and relaxed. Coats open. Eyes on the prize. Prayers to the manufacturers that the personal shields would hold.

I mirrored her as I got into my own.

Carolina had beautiful blue eyes. I stared at her with my gruff face and wondered if I should have shaved a little. Be a little more attractive as the last person she would see.

She raised her off-hand. In it was a single bullet lens. A focusing device used in her optical pistol. An eight chambered gun if I recalled her fame correctly.

She flicked up the bullet and I blinked as we both watched it go high.

An Outlaw’s Duel was just a name. There were no more rules after showing up. A posse. A heavy armor vehicle. Orbital bombardment. All fair game.

The bullet spun as it reached peak hight.

Yet for the true junkies. For the true sharpshooters. There was no greater high than this.

Then the bullet began to fall.

Our eyes lowered with it. Then we locked onto each other and the round no longer mattered.

There was only this. A moment that lasted a lifetime. A lifetime in a moment.

We drew.

We fired.

[Ta!][Ta!][Ta!]

[zZzAAA!]

Carolina was faster. Her elegant silver optical pistol got off three shots before it jammed.

She cursed and looked down. She had just done maintenance this morning!

Her clear blues eyes watched as blood squirted from the stump of what was once her wrist. Her gun was missing.

What?

She toppled back and spasmed as the pain registered. The raw nerves telling her of the fact that chunks of her were missing. She had troubles also moving her torso.

The last thing she saw was the fact that there was also a hole in the tree line behind her.

I sighed as he watched her stop twitching.

The slight hiss of my gun cooling was an old sound. Something I had heard over and over again.

I looked at the bone-white weapon. Rectangular and unassuming. Yet so dangerous.

I took in a ragged breath as my vision faded. An aftereffect of the weapon’s primary source of energy. Myself.

I saw it again. The cloaked thing. The god that had gifted me this weapon.

It was closer. Hovering in the skies today. Yet unmistakably closer.

Once it hovered far in the distance. Now I could probably just underhand toss a rock and hit it.

I blinked again and the world returned.

No ghosts. No gods.

Today was not the day I would die.

Though it was close. I didn’t know what kind of pistol she had, but it nearly broke my shield in just three shots. My personal shield wasn’t that old, but I sighed as I had definitely destroyed her gun with my own gravity beam emitter.

I had set it to a wide fire, it took more energy, but it was the correct decision today. Anything within 2-3 centimeters of the centerline would have been collapsed into it. A miniature black hole dragged across a hundred meters.

I had overly predicted what I needed, but it worked out today.

She didn’t kill me, and I didn’t kill myself.

Yet.

I made my way down to the two horses. Lassie simply stood still, and whatever the white steed was just a statue.

I picked up both control medals, sliding them around my neck.

“Both of you dig a hole. 2 meters by half a meter. Half meter deep,” I commanded and the two steeds simply looked at where I was pointing. It was near the tree line. They simply walked over, and their hooves extended the shovel mode and started to dig.

I then went up to Carolina. Her eyes were dull and I closed them.

I then looted her body. Nothing important was found. Or rather if she had anything important around her torso… it was now gone. I didn’t even find her personal shield.

I tsked as I definitely needed something newer. These new-age guns were a hassle.

Then I dragged her down carefully as only two strips of her side were left. The gaping hole in what was once her chest made her rather fragile.

I then had the steeds cover up the impromptu grave.

The traditional three sticks made up her grave. Like incense offered to the gods, they simply protruded from the soft ground.

I impaled her white hat onto the tallest stick. Proof that Carolina once lived, and then died here.

With a whistle, I had both steeds before me. I checked the bags before I mounted the white one. In it were Carolina’s last will and testament. Something that could be ignored if I desired, but if it would mollify her friends, then good enough for me.

The saddle was much better on my old and worn butt. The ride was also smoother. I loved Lassie, but I could use a newer model.

I loved my personal shield as well. It had served me loyally for nearly a decade now. Yet I was going to get a new one sooner rather than later. If three to five shots were all it took to take me down…

It turns out that I also really love living.

I patted the new steed, and it shivered under my touch. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

I debated on calling her Carolina… but that was perhaps a touch morbid.

Snow for its snow-white appearance?

I hummed an old tune as I made my way back to town.

For Carolina, this was the end of her journey. Her final chapter in her story.

For me, this was just another day.