“You got any rope or shackles?” Billy asked while dragging Oscar up to the general store's counter.
“Sex shackles or regular shackles?” asked the shopkeeper, pulling out a set of iron shackles and another set adorned with pink fur from an unknown animal.
“...Just the regular ones,” said Billy with an unamused look.
“Alright, just saying no judgment.”
“Also, I’m tying him up in the back,” Billy added, gesturing towards Oscar, which elicited a raised eyebrow and a suggestive look from the shopkeeper.
“To stop him from escaping,” Billy clarified flatly as he snatched the regular shackles off the counter and forced Oscar back into the storage room. Choosing a rack towards the far end of the large room, Billy snapped one shackle on Oscar's wrist, passed the chain through a support beam of the rack, and snapped the other end on Oscar’s other wrist.
“Why are you so greasy?” Billy asked, noticing a visible sheen on his hand where he had touched Oscar's skin.
“It’s…it’s just my natural musk,” Oscar replied with pride.
“Well, if I let you live, you should probably get that checked out. For now, I’m going to go get that troll of a Scotsman… Don’t go anywhere,” said Billy, amusing himself slightly.
Oscar replied with a sarcastic sneer and a shake of his chains as Billy walked out. By this time of night, less light spilled from the windows into the street, making it easier for Billy to stay hidden and move faster. As he approached the saloon, he passed the alley he had hidden in earlier. Something in the corner of his eye made him stop and take two steps back to look down the alley.
There, in the dirt, lying face down and snoring, was Bob. Bob was currently being robbed.
Billy stepped closer and cleared his throat. This action prompted the sudden appearance of pistols from the two ladies of the night who were rifling through Bob’s pockets.
“Back off, this is ours. We worked hard to get him this sauced,” one of them snapped.
“Hey, you do what you gotta do,” replied Billy, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “Once you’re done, I’ll take him off your hands, though.”
This earned him a suspicious look from the ladies as they finished pilfering anything of value from Bob. They then stood up, straightened their hair and clothes, and walked off into the night with a poise and grace that belied the ruthlessness they had just displayed.
“Hmm, gotta respect the hustle,” Billy muttered to himself as he grabbed Bob by the legs and began dragging him back to the general store. The shopkeeper barely looked up as the "thunk" of Bob's head bouncing off the steps announced Billy’s return.
“Yer paying for repairs if that damaged my step,” the shopkeeper called out as Billy headed into the storage room where he locked Bob to another set of shelves with the fuzzy pink shackles.
“Hey…hey, why does he get those? They look way more comfortable than mine,” complained Oscar.
“I like him more than you. He didn’t shoot me in the back.”
“Yeah, that's... that's probably fair... hey wait, you said I missed.”
“Shut up and go to sleep, we’re sending that message first thing in the morning,” said Billy as he lay down on his cot.
“Aww man, why do you get a co…” Oscar began to complain before being silenced by a well-thrown wrench.
The sound of a rooster crowing woke Billy, who in turn woke Oscar with a “gentle” backhand.
“Let’s go, you greased weasel,” said Billy, unlocking Oscar's shackles and standing him up. “And to be clear, I can draw and shoot you a lot faster than you can try to run away,” he added, quickly drawing his gun and spinning it several times before tapping Oscar on the head with it.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The men walked along the wooden walkway that joined the block of buildings together and found the post office easily, as it was only three stores down. The door opened into a cramped office small enough that Billy could touch both walls at once by stretching his arms out.
At the end of the room was a counter and a door leading back to the storeroom that made up the majority of the building. Billy walked the three paces to the counter and rang the bell, causing a "thud" and a groan of pain as the postmaster crawled out from where he had apparently been sleeping. Seeing Billy, he attempted to smooth his wrinkled uniform and find his hat.
“Rough night there, Clyde?” asked Billy.
“Who now?”
“Your name tag says Clyde.”
“Huh?” the man looked down at his shirt. “Oh right, yeah, that's me. How can I help you fellas?”
“Must have been a hell of a night if you forgot your name. But anyway, my associate here needs to send a message, and it needs to be sent as quickly as possible. Give him the details, Oscar.”
Stepping forward, Oscar dictated a simple message stating that more of the item of interest had been found, taking care to avoid mentioning the mysterious crystal they had originally been sent to find. He then gave Clyde the address and paid the postage fee.
“Can’t say how long it’ll take to get this there, been some strange happenings on the roads,” informed Clyde.
“Will more money help?”
“It’ll help me but won’t change the road conditions.”
“Just do what you can then,” said Billy as he escorted Oscar back out of the post office and to the general store where Bob still hadn't woken from his drunken stupor.
“Now, you two tree stumps are going to stay locked up here until the Hog gets here. Then I'm going to use you as bait. I've paid the shop-keep to make sure you don't keel over but not much more than that.”
“Why are you so mean?” whined Oscar.
A look of anger flashed across Billy's face as he grabbed Oscar by the throat. “You tried to kill me, remember? This is me being nice.”
Billy released his grip, causing Oscar to crumble to the ground gasping for air. A look of terror and anger like a cornered animal crossed Oscar's face as he scuttled back against a storage rack.
Billy couldn’t hide the scowl on his face as he looked down at Oscar. “I have preparations to make. I'll be back in exactly a week to check on you. Exactly a week.”
As Oscar cowered against his storage rack, he could only nod and watch as Billy turned and strode out of the room, locking the door behind him. He immediately began to work his greasy and unnervingly small hands out of the shackles.
Exactly one week later, Billy walked back into town. The deserted streets and shuttered windows, despite it being midday, tipped Billy off to the ambush well before he even reached Blackwater.
The ease with which he carried himself was mistaken for a lack of awareness by those watching and waiting.
As he walked down the middle of the main road, he could pick out several men behind cover with their guns trained on him.
He stopped 10 feet short of the point where he would have sprung an ambush. Large, two-story buildings on either side provided elevated positions for rifles, and several windows on the bottom provided places to fire from cover. Alleyways just before and after the large buildings made excellent spots to conceal additional men who would move to block the only two exits out of the kill zone.
“Well, let's rustle up some action,” said Billy as he walked right into the ambush.
As he stepped into the centre of the kill zone, he heard Oscar's voice call out.
“YOU... YOU STOP RIGHT THERE, BILLY! WE’VE GOT YOU SURROUNDED!”
“Oh my, it certainly seems that I have stumbled into your ambush. I am certainly disappointed in myself,” said Billy through a smile.
“REALLY? 'CAUSE... 'CAUSE YOU DON’T SEEM DISAPPOINTED.”
“Oh no, I’m tooootally disappointed.”
“I... I DON’T CARE WHAT MIND GAMES YOU’RE TRYING TO PLAY. IT WON’T WORK. EVERYONE MOVE IN AND TAKE HIS GUNS.”
Billy watched as dozens of outlaws, thugs, petty criminals, and people of ill repute flooded from the alleys and doorways to surround him, with more up on the balconies pointing their guns. Oscar slithered behind and between the other men, never letting himself be within reach.
Billy raised his hands as dozens of guns pointed at him from every direction. He then felt someone take his guns, ammo, and knife.
“Well, Oscar, it appears you have managed to gather every gun for hire in Blackwater. Thank you, I knew I could count on you to give me a challenge.”
“Still... still talking tough even now. We got you outnumbered, and you ain’t even got any guns.”
“You are right there, but what I do have is a lot of anger to let out,” said Billy as he pointed his finger at the head of a mustachioed man in front of him.
“What... What the hell are you doing? You know what, who cares, kill him.”
Billy heard dozens of fingers begin to squeeze dozens of triggers.