Undertaker: Hunter in the Weird West
Chapter 1: Tall tales in a small town
"That's when I faced the beast! Ten feet tall, claws like sickles, eyes glowing red. Every other yellow belly turned tail, but me? I stood my ground, aimed my trusty revolver, and BAM!" The handsome gunslinger mimicked the motion of a gunshot. The gathered crowd followed his moments. "Right between the eyes. Dropped that sucker with a single blast of mana. It was just another monster who couldn't stand up to me, Fat Berry Slim." The gathered crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. The handsome gunslinger grinned as he raised a glass, downing the whiskey and slamming the glass back down.
Nearly every adult and some children living in the small town of Dustwell was gathered in this saloon. A small town that rarely had visitors was now blessed with the appearance of Fat Berry Slim, a legendary gunfighter known for taking on deadly monsters and men alike. A man who was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, dressed to the nines in his pristine white duster with slicked-back black hair. The man had been telling stories and soaking up the attention while getting free drinks for hours.
"Now, should I tell you about when I took down this deadly vampire mistress with nothing more than my charm and leftover lunch?" Fat Berry Slim said. Before the man could spin another tale, the saloon doors were thrown open, snatching everyone's attention.
"Thank the mother, you're still open." An exhausted-sounding voice spoke up. The voice belonged to a ghoulish man with unhealthy pale brown skin, a worn and torn patched-up black suit that barely fit his lanky, thin body, baggy eyes, and messy, unnaturally white hair under a dirty top hat. The man's outfit was complete with a pair of thick black gloves. But as the man walked in, the eyes of the crowd turned to the full-sized coffin strapped to his back, covered in heavy chains with a shovel made of bone attached to it. The ghoulish man ignored the crowd as he approached the bar. The old bearded bartender eyed him up. "Let me get a glass of water." The man said while placing a small silver coin on the counter.
As the man placed his order, the crowd whispered, "Whoa, look at that freak." "What's with that coffin?" "Should we call the sheriff?"
Fat Berry Slim quickly spoke up. "Now, now everyone. Don't mind that guy. Now, where was I? Oh right, the sexy vampire I took down." The ghoulish man's ears perked up once Fat Berry Slim said those words. "Ya see, I was headed down to Redstone Ridge to cash in another bounty."
As Fat Berry Slim told his story, the old bartender placed the glass of water in front of the ghoulish man. "Anything else?"
"What's on the menu?" The Ghoulish man asked.
The old bartender scratched his beard, and dry skin flakes fell to the bar top. "I got seven kinds of jerky, some pickled eggs and trotters, and some nuts."
The ghoulish man felt his stomach turn at some of the items on the menu. "I'll take those nuts, " he said, then placed another coin on the bar top. The bartender replied with a grunt while grabbing the coin. Once the old man started to walk away, the ghoulish man turned his attention back to the tale Fat Berry Slim was spinning.
"That's when I told her, I got something for you to suck on. Then I shoved the garlic down her throat!" Fat Berry Slim mimicked the action of shoving his arm down a throat. Once again, the crowd watched in awe, but the ghoulish man was unimpressed. "The garlic worked nearly instantly. That bloody vampire started choking, clawing at her throat. She was dead before her body hit the ground. Garlic is extremely poisonous to vampires." Fat Berry Slim explained.
The ghoulish man didn't mean to, but when he heard those words come out of Fat Berry Slim's mouth, he scoffed. The sound that left the ghoulish man's mouth seemingly echoed around the saloon, and even though the crowd was loudly talking among themselves, the saloon turned dead silent as everyone turned to him. One of the town's women spoke up, breaking the sudden silence. "What's your problem? Huh? How dare you scoff at a legendary gunfighter like Fat Berry Slim!" The woman growled out.
Now that all of the attention was on him, the ghoulish man sighed but didn't back down. "Sorry, sorry, it's just that the whole garlic being deadly to vampires is a made-up story. The fact is if you shove garlic down a vampire's throat, they'll just bite your arm off." He explained.
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Fat Berry Slim glared at the ghoulish man while crossing his arms. "Oh yeah? And how would you know that oldtimer? Kill a few vampires in your day? Who are you anyway?"
"Oldtimer? I'm twenty-three," The ghoulish man mumbled as his eye twitched in annoyance. "My name's Puch, and no I've never killed a vampire personally. But I was there when my mentor took one's head off." As Puch spoke, he noticed something strange about Fat Berry Slim. There was something slightly off about the man's eyes.
It was Fat Berry Slim's turn to scoff. "It's easy for a nobody like you to make up some tales, and lies, but I'm Fat Berry Slim I,"
As Fat Berry Slim started to boast, Puch pulled out a strange small skull from a hidden pocket inside his suit. A monster skull, elongated snout with vicious fangs but still small enough to fit in Puch's hand. "What do you think, Chuy?" Puch asked while tapping on the skull. After a second of tapping, the skull came to life as eerie green energy filled it, and once Puch faced the skull towards Fat Berry Slim, the skull started to chatter. Its teeth clinked and clattered at an unnatural pace while the skull wiggled in Puch's hand. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Puch said. He then slipped the skull back into his suit pocket. The saloon had grown quite once more thanks to the clattering of the skull, and while all eyes were on Puch, his eyes focused on Fat Berry Slim. "You're a shape-shifter, aren't you? My guess is doppelganger, but I suppose it don't matter, y'all die the same."
Before anyone could say anything, 'Fat Berry Slim' jumped out of his chair and pulled a beat up old six-shooter from its holster. The six-shooter was charged with mana. Each chamber of the revolving cylinder held a small mana crystal, then moment Fat Berry Slim pulled the trigger the hammer slammed a crystal and fired a burst of mana. But the shot was wide, the mana fired was unrefined, and left the barrel as a formless blob, the recoil of the gun made the second shot nearly hit the bartender. Because while the real Fat Berry Slim was a legendary gunfighter worth the title, the doppelganger had no idea how to properly control and shape the mana he fired. So, seeing his shots miss completely, the doppelganger turned tail and rushed out of the saloon.
Puch sighed once he saw the doppelganger run. After quickly chugging down the rest of his water, he pulled the chains off his shoulders, dropping the coffin he was carrying to the ground. The impact of the coffin hitting the floorboards echoed around the saloon and cracked the wood. But without missing a beat, Puch snatched the bone shovel off the coffin and ran out of the saloon after the doppelganger.
Rushing out of the saloon, Puch moved to the center of the town's dirt road. Puch was thankful the old remote town had street lights powered by mana lighting up the town. He could see the doppelganger booking it as fast as he could down the road, towards an old beat up motorcart. But Puch wasn't worried.
Instead, Puch shifted his body. Spreading his feet apart and lowering his stance, he started channeling the mana in his body. The mana swirled through him and down to his feet, where it was quickly sucked into the runes carved into his worn black boots. Now full of mana, the runes lit up, and a pair of transparent spurs made out of pure mana appeared. "Man, I hate this spell," Puch grumbled.
In an instant, the spell activated, and the mana spurs shifted, pressing into the ground and lifting Puch up as if he were standing on a pair of wheels. Like a pair of wheels, the spurs spun to life, and Puch skated across the dirt road, picking up speed with every rotation. Puch managed to cover the distance in seconds. 'Shit!' He shouted in his mind while lowering his shoulder and bracing himself. Unable to stop, Puch shoulder tackled the doppelganger to the ground.
"GAHH! LET ME GO! HELP! HELP!" The doppelganger shouted as Puch jumped on top of him. Puch ignored the pleas and the pain in his shoulder to wrestle the man into submission. With a twist and a turn, Puch was now straddling the doppelganger's back, knees pinning his arms down while pressing the doppelganger's face into the dirt. Puch's shovel had been dropped and laid a few feet away.
"Shut it. It's like two in the morning, and you have me out here rolling around in the dirt." Puch growled out. He then took a deep breath to settle himself, the spike of adrenaline he felt starting to ease off.
"What the hell is going on out here!?" A booming voice called out. Puch quickly turned to the sudden voice, only to see that everyone from the saloon was now standing in the street, muttering, confused about what was happening. But the man who spook up was an old, tired man with a gun on his hip and a badge pinned to his chest. "Alright, you two break it up! You, off him now!" The Sheriff ordered while stomping towards the pair.
"R-Rich! You got to help me! This guy is crazy! He's trying to kill me! Shoot him!" The doppelganger shouted and struggled.
"Nobody's shooting anyone, just break it up before I throw you both in a cell." The Sheriff said.
'Great, now I have to deal with this too. I should have just camped out in the wilds.' Puch thought with a sigh. He knew it was going to be a long night.
~End~
A/N: I'm ending the chapter here purely because I just found out about this contest yesterday morning (Jan 8th). After scrambling all day to think of an idea, I came up with this one, and the words flew (like a bird with a broken wing). But I don't have time to finish the chapter, edit it fully, submit it, and hope it gets approved before the deadline, so I'm stopping it here to do everything else.
~Improv