Dante awoke to gunshots. They were faint, barely audible, really, but unmistakable.

He glanced at Eva, his groggy mind rapidly clearing up as his body began dumping adrenaline into his veins, “You hear that?”

The girl was reading a book, too engrossed to notice the faint gunshots but not too engrossed to not notice Dante’s words.

“Oh, you’re up,” she said, confused, “Hear what?”

Dante put a finger to his mouth, gesturing to the ceiling. Just that moment, a gunshot rang out, louder then previously. It sounded more like it was halfway across the fort instead of completely outside this time. They weren’t measured or in any sense repeating, which would indicate a practice by the crew. Instead, they were sporadic, coming in clumps.

He’d been near enough impromptu firefights to know that it was a tell-tale sign of a gunfight.

Immediately, he saw Eva’s eyes widen. Her mouth formed a small smile, but the edge of fear in her eyes were unmistakable.

“I’m going to check,” he grunted, “If shit’s gone south and it’s a random attacker, I’m coming back down here to get you out. Get ready in case you have to leave at a moment’s notice.”

She gave a slow nod, but her pace quickened when she began preparing. Dante only lingered long enough to see her grabbing the shoes he’d lent her. The gunshots continued, adrenaline in his veins spiking.

Dante slowly put his hand on the cellar door, creaking it open just a bit to peek out above the adobe stairs and into the courtyard, muttering under his breath, “Por favor, no dejes que me disparen Dios.” Sure enough, it was absolute chaos. The pot of stew he’d been cooking was knocked over in a pool of food, and utensil were strewn about everywhere.

And then he saw it.

Virgil’s dead body lay in a pool of its own blood, face contorted in fear and hand clutching a rifle that was no longer there, instead several feet from his grip on the floor.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

He closed the door as another pair of gunshots rang out, sounding much closer than before. Dante was in a near state of panic now, adrenaline in his system.

The boy didn’t bother explaining the situation, his voice authoritative as he stated, “You’re leaving. Shit’s gone south. Probablemente peor.”

He grabbed the keys from the hangar on the wall, jamming them into the hole, though Eva talked, “Why are you so enthused about defending me?”

Dante didn’t bother stopping, swinging the bar door open as he half-dodged the question, “I may not be a marksman, but I can still shoot straight. Only makes sense.”

Eva narrowed her eyes, stepping out of her cell. She looked utterly ragged, with the gown torn and dusted only adding to the old shoes she’d jammed on. The whole look was only augmented by her tousled hair. She’d grabbed a bag of things, though he had a hunch it was just books.

“When I open the cellar door, you’re going to see some bloody shit. So whatever you do, follow me. Save whatever breakdowns you feel coming for later.”

“Why not just stay here and wait them out?” she asked, “There’s only one entrance that they can enter.”

“Sitting here waiting to get shot is a bad idea; we need to be on the move, so if we do encounter whoever’s shooting, we’ll actually have some room to maneuver,” he replied, “Plus, we don’t store any weapons down here. There should be a gun on the table a few feet away from the entrance.”

Another cluster of gunshots sounded off, this time sounding a bit further away.

“Okay, we leave now. Remember; follow me no matter what,” he grunted. She gave a small nod, her eyes wide, though with fear or anticipation, Dante didn’t know.

The two quickly made their way up the stairs, Dante quickly creaking open the cellar door to make sure the coast was clear. As far as he could tell, it was safe.

He swung the doors open, breaking out into a sprint for the nearby table, hearing Eva’s soft footfalls behind him.

Dante quickly spied a plain revolver, quickly grabbing it and feeling a bit safer with his hand around the wooden grip. He heard a soft gasp from behind him; Eva had probably spotted Virgil’s dead body. He glanced back, and she had evidently not followed his advice. She was rooted to the spot, eyes glued to the cadaver as she dropped her bag out of shock.

Dante grabbed her arm and began running again just as another clump of gunshots rang out in the fortress. It was definitely closer.

“Keep moving!” he whisper-yelled through gritted teeth, snapping Eva out of her stupor. He could tell she wanted to scream or cry, but she thankfully managed to hold it back for the time being. Dante sometimes forgot that seeing corpses wasn’t something other people were used to.

The two rapidly crossed the first courtyard, making their way into the wall that separated the two. The entire fort was built a bit like the number eight, with extra rooms tacked on wherever.

The two were greeted with two more cadavers in the hallway. Riley’s corpse was slumped against a wall, a blood stain splattered a few feet above his figure and leaking down the wall. Across him was Harley, sprawled out on the floor, a puddle of crimson surrounding him.

He ignored Eva’s muffled scream behind him, running towards the bodies, grunting, “Jump.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Dante neatly made the leap, though Eva wasn’t so luckily. She tried but fell too soon, her leather shoes stumbling into the crimson liquid. Before she could break down, Dante grabbed her arm again and continued. He peeked into the next hall; thankfully clean.

His adrenaline kept him supplied with a near endless amount of energy; his legs felt nearly weightless as he ran, more like he was just moving his thighs back and forth. Dante couldn’t help the cringe that surfaced when he noticed how loud their footfalls were in the narrow hallways.

Of course, he didn’t have time to ponder that as they turned into another hallway, running smack-dab into Dante’s worst nightmare.

Malcolm.

The blonde was surprisingly composed, though his slightly reddened face did imply he’d been running.

“You,” the man seethed, all the hate and vitriol that his eyes had hid for so long spilling over into his face, contorted in rage as he stepped forward.

Dante had no clue how to respond as he slowly backed around the corner, keeping Eva behind him; should he try to plead his innocence? Drop his gun?

For a split second, he glanced at the firearm in his hand. He was holding a loaded revolver. In front of Malcolm. He could just as easily point the barrel, squeeze the trigger, and have it all be done away with. But did he want to?

“You betrayed us. Again,” Malcolm’s voice was pure poison in Dante’s ear, the boy feeling like he was facing down a snake. To be fair, in all senses but physical, he was.

“We have to leave,” Dante tried to sound strong, but his voice came out more of a meek whisper as the gun in his hand was forgotten.

“No, you have to pay,” Malcolm growled, taking a step forward.

Before Dante could even blink, two shots rang out in the hallway next to them. Blood splattered the left wall, coating Malcolm’s pant legs as the man pitched forward. Eva screamed in his ear.

It all happened so fast that he couldn’t even tell who had been shot. Had it been him? Was that blood his? Was he on borrowed time? His mind was going a hundred miles a second, but he ignored it. He didn’t feel anything, he was fine.

Dante glanced down at Malcolm, who was now on the ground. From a few twitches and slow movements, he wasn’t dead.

He didn’t get to think about it for long, though, as a man quickly rounded the corner, revolver aimed at Dante’s face. Before either combatant could move, he could hear Eva screaming behind him, “Wait!”

And, for a single second, the world froze.

Dante took those precious seconds to size up his opponent. They wore a long duster, with a light grey vest underneath. Grey trousers gave way to reddish-brown boots polished to near perfection. The only thing he could make out for the stranger’s face were narrowed eyes, near glinting in the poor light of the fortress. Everything else was obscured by his hat and bandana.

“Don’t fire! Either of you!” Eva yelled, getting in front of Dante.

His instincts told him to grab her arm and force her behind him, but such a sudden move would most definitely lead to a bullet in his skull.

“He was looking for me,” she stated, looking at Dante.

“How do you know?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the man.

“Look at his revolver,” she told him.

And he did. Not like it was hard, either, its barrel seeming to glare at him. From what little he could see, it was made of a reddish metal, with gold accents carefully lining the barrel and frame. They probably extended to the rest of the gun, but the angle didn’t let him see much more than the pitch black hole of the front.

“It’s red,” he stated, glancing at Eva for some sort of explanation.

“Exactly,” she smiled, though said smile was heavy, “Red Revolver. He’s one of my parents’ oldest employees.”

“I just came for Ms. Ostlund,” the man affirmed, voice deeper than anything Dante had ever heard before, “The rest of you are either dead or will be handed to the military to be shot.”

Eva turned to the man, “He is leaving with us.”

A few tense seconds of silence followed, the man’s eyes further narrowing in thought. After a moment, he grunted, “Fine. Drop your gun.”

Dante decided to just follow their orders. It beat being shot. He let the revolver fall from his hands and clatter to the ground, eyes narrowed, grunted, “You better not have tricked me.”

“No tricks; I can’t be bothered to argue with ‘er,” the man grunted, stepping forward, pulling out some rope. Dante ignored the instinct to run, letting his hands be tied. Red picked up the extra revolver before stepping back.

“You’ll come with us, as per Ms. Ostlund’s request, but you’re goin’ to be restrained until I decide you’re not a threat.”

Dante stayed silent.

“Come on,” the man commanded, turning around and beginning to walk the way he came from, “We’re leavin’.”

Eva quickly moved to follow, Dante doing the same but much more hesitantly. He glanced backwards, at Malcolm. He’d regained consciousness, though his legs were still bleeding like a stuck pig.

Dante was levelled with the most poisonous stare he could imagine, Malcolm’s silver eyes narrowed. His mouth moved, and the Mestizo could faintly hear, “You will pay.”

He hurriedly followed after Red and Eva, wanting to get as far away from the snake in human skin as possible.

Compared to the hectic fighting that could be heard throughout the fortress just a few minutes before, it was odd, walking through the now quiet halls of the fortress. The sound of his and Red’s soles hitting the adobe ground seemed to reverberate in the hall.

Eva’s shoes would’ve made the same noise had the squelching of blood not taken its place.

“Did anyone attack before I did?” the gunman asked without stopping, walking through the halls as if he’d been the one that lived here for months and not just a random intruder.

Eva just glanced back at Dante, who shook his head, “No. Things were quiet.”

After a second, he quietly tacked on, “…’till you came along.”

Red huffed, “Assumed as much. Wanted to make sure, though; word was beginning to spread.”

“Word?” Dante quirked his head.

“Rumors. You don’t just kidnap the daughter of a business tycoon and expect others to not care. You sad saps just opened the door for a whole world of crime in the region,” the gunman turned a left, leading them into the main courtyard.

He then walked towards the still-closed gates, which had the bleeding corpse of one of the other gangmembers against one of the doors.

The man nonchalantly slipped his hand over Eva’s eyes as they approached, stating, “Blood.”

She just gave a shaky nod.

“The New Mexico territory already is a risky enough place for those with money. Those who did come were armed to the teeth, like Mr. Ostlund. But when your gang kidnapped Ms. Ostlund here, you just set a very dangerous precedent. Doubt the area will be seein’ much more money for a few years short of settlers,” the gunman stated grimly as he pushed the gate open with his boot, “It’s emboldened a few other gangs, too.”

As the door opened, Dante could see a single horse-drawn carriage parked right in front of it. Had the man simply ridden up to the walls with this bulky thing while getting shot at?

“Ms. Ostlund’s in the back, the amigo’s goin’ with me,” the man grunted, clambering onto the box of the stagecoach.

Dante raised his bound hands after watching Eva roughly get into the coach on shaky legs, “Kind of hard to get into the seat with no hands.”

Red gestured for him to come over before grabbing his tied wrists and roughly pulling him up, then gave Dante a glance, “Didn’t feel too hard.”

The Mestizo didn’t bother replying, simply looking at the road ahead as the gunman snapped the reigns of the stagecoach, beginning the journey.

“Say,” Red grunted, “never learned your name between all the shootin’.”

Shooting.

Dante had to pause to let it fully sink in.

The gang was dead, or at least most of them. Only then did his mind fully catch up. Dante could only blankly stare as his thoughts buckled. The only world he’d ever known had been taken out back and shot. He might not have liked it, but it was familiar.

He didn’t even get to leave on his own terms.

“Amigo,” the gunman’s gruff voice sounded up again, “your name?”

The Mestizo only stayed quiet for a few seconds, before replying, “Dante.”