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The world bled into a hazy, amber toned slow motion. Sounds distorted, stretching into a low drone. The frantic snorting of the horses, the tense breathing of the men, the distant cry of a bird, all faded into a background hum. Caleb's focus became absolute. His eyes, glowing with an otherworldly intensity behind the mechanic of the skill, flicked across the line of outlaws.
A red X materialized over the forehead of the sneering leader. Another appeared on the man to his immediate left, then his right. His gaze swept down the line, X X, X, X, marking each of the ten Driller Boys with lethal precision in the span of a heartbeat.
His body moved on instinct, a perfect instrument of controlled violence. His fingers tightened on the triggers.
B-B-B-BANG BANG BANG-B-B-BANG!
The reports from his two revolvers were not separate sounds but a continuous, rolling thunderclap that exploded in the sudden silence of the slowed world. The shots were fired with impossible speed and unerring accuracy, a staccato rhythm of death.
He started from the outside, his Schofield and Navy revolvers barking in alternating, seamless succession. The first two shots took the men on the far ends of the line. The next two took the ones next to them. He worked his way inward in a brutal, efficient pattern, the guns never ceasing their fire.
To everyone else on the street, it happened in the blink of an eye. One second, there was a tense standoff. The next, Caleb's arms seemed to blur, and a deafening volley of shots erupted from his position.
The Driller Boys didn't even have time to react. Their expressions of bravado and anger were frozen, then replaced by looks of shock and vacant stillness as, one by one, each man was struck cleanly in the forehead.
They jerked backward in their saddles, their own guns firing harmlessly into the dirt or sky as their hands went slack, before tumbling from their horses like sacks of grain.
The final shot, a simultaneous blast from both revolvers, took the scarred leader dead center in his forehead, the impact snapping his head back. His sneer was forever etched on his face as he slumped and crashed to the ground.
The roar of gunfire ceased as abruptly as it began.
Silence.
Absolute, deafening silence descended upon Valentine. The only sound was the acrid smell of gunsmoke and the nervous shuffling of the now riderless horses.
Sheriff Malloy, his deputies, Jasper, Simon, and Troy stood frozen, their own weapons still raised, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror and utter disbelief. They stared at the ten bodies lying in the dust, then at Caleb, who slowly, calmly, lowered his smoking revolvers.
He ejected the spent casings, the metallic ping ping ping unnaturally loud in the quiet street, and began methodically reloading.
Sheriff Malloy was the first to find his voice, though it came out as a hoarse croak. "Jesus Christ, Caleb. Remind me never to get on your bad side."
Caleb slid the last cartridge into his Schofield and snapped the cylinder shut. He met the Sheriff's stunned gaze, his own expression unreadable.
"Guess they weren't as fast as they thought. You said not to let them mess with your town, Sheriff," he said, his voice flat. "I was just helpin' you clean up the mess."
He holstered his pistols, the sound of the leather snap final. The Driller Boys were history. And everyone in Valentine now knew exactly kind of man Caleb truly was.
Sheriff Malloy at this time turned to his deputies. "Get these bastards out of the street. We'll buried 'em outside town." His tone brooked no argument. Then, glancing back at Caleb. "Appreciate the help. Saved lives today."
Caleb's mouth curved, just slightly. "Wasn't about savin' lives, Sheriff." He tipped his hat low. "Was about sendin' a message."
Sheriff Malloy didn't ask what message. He didn't have to.
The lawmen moved to work, dragging bodies, calming skittish horses. Caleb holstered deep, the weight of his irons settling like old friends against his hips. Caleb turned to his crew. "Let's get back to the stall. Ain't good for business to be standin' over corpses."
They followed him in silence, still processing what they'd witnessed. But deep down, Caleb felt no thrill, only cold resolve. This was the price of building something real in a world where chaos reigned. And he'd pay it again if he had to.
Tomorrow, construction would begin. But today, the blood on Valentine's main street would remind everyone that Caleb Thorne wasn't a man to be trifled with.
Their boots let out crunching sound due to it coming contact with the dirt below as Caleb led Jasper, Simon, and Troy back toward the stall. The main street of Valentine still smelled of gunpowder and blood, a grim reminder of what had just happened.
Folks were peeking from windows and cracked doors, whispers running like wildfire through the quieting town. Caleb ignored it all, his stride steady, coat swaying with the weight of his irons as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
They reached the stall and Caleb rapped twice on the wooden door. "Mickey, Jessie. It's me," he called out, voice calm but carrying authority despite the adrenaline still coursing through him. "Open up. It's safe now."
A metallic click sounded from the other side, then the door creaked open to reveal Mickey, his face pale and tense. Relief washed over him when he saw Caleb standing there, alive and unharmed.
"Boss…" Mickey's voice was low, almost hesitant. "Thank god its truly you. You sure it's… safe out there now? We heard… we heard so many shots, then nothin'. Just silence."
Caleb stepped inside without missing a beat, brushing past him. "It's safe," he said simply. The others followed him in, closing the door behind them. "The folks who came wantin' trouble? Let's just say they've been dealt with."
Mickey blinked, confusion mixing with unease. Jessie, who'd been sitting on an overturned crate near the back, exhaled audibly in relief and stood up. Her hands were trembling slightly, though she tried to hide it as she smoothed her apron.
"Dealt with? Thank God," Jessie said, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity. "Who were they, boss? What kinda people ride into town shootin' in the air like that?"
Caleb set his hat down on the counter and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves as if preparing for another round at the grill. "Called themselves the Driller Boys," he answered evenly. "Used to be O'Driscolls, least that's what they said. Decided they'd start somethin' new. Came here 'cause a while back, some of their old buddies came sniffin' 'round the stall askin' for protection money. Jasper here told 'em no. Sheriff Malloy backed him up. Guess that didn't sit too well with them. That sound familiar?"
Jessie's face scrunched in thought. "Oh… I remember that day. So, these were… their friends? From the same gang? They started a new gang and came back for revenge because of something that happened with their old gang?" She sounded confused by the tangled web of outlaw politics. "That's… that's just stupid."
"That's about the size of it," Caleb gave a small shrug, lips curving faintly at the edge. "World's full of stupid, darlin'. And men like that? They don't forget a bruise on their pride." As he said so, he placed two fresh patties on the still warm grill. They sizzled softly, a mundane sound amidst the extraordinary events.
Mickey, still hovering near the doorway, scratched his stubbled chin with his good hand. "Don't rightly understand all that, but I get the gist. But… what happened out there? I mean—" He gestured vaguely toward the street. "—all them shots, then dead quiet. Sheriff and his boys still standin', right? They run 'em out after all that shooting? Or… did we just start a war?"
At that, Jasper, Simon, and Troy all turned their heads in unison to look at Mickey. The sudden silence stretched long enough for sweat to bead on Mickey's temple. He let out an uneasy chuckle and wiped his brow with his sleeve. "Uh… why're y'all starin' at me like that? I say somethin' wrong? Y'all been actin' strange since you walked back in here."
Jasper chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "No, Mick. You didn't say nothin' wrong." He pushed off the wall, folding his arms. "But strange? Yeah… if you and Jessie'd seen what we just saw, you'd be lookin' sideways at the boss too."
Jessie tilted her head, frowning as curiosity overcame her fear. "What do you mean? What did you see?"
Simon, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. His tone was measured, like a man still trying to make sense of the sight burned into his brain. "We saw the boss draw… and in less time than it takes to blink, ten men were dead."
Jessie's eyes widened. Mickey's jaw went slack.
Simon went on, voice low, almost reverent. "I ain't exaggeratin'. They had their guns out, thought they had us outpaced. Next thing I know, the boss moves, fast, like the air itself froze, and those Driller bastards all dropped with holes clean through their skulls. Every last one. Ten shots, maybe eleven. Perfect. Not one miss. They didn't even have time to fire back. They just… fell."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Jessie let out a gasp, clapping a hand over her mouth. Mickey, meanwhile, let out a strangled laugh that came out more like a cough. "You're… you're jokin', right? Ain't no man alive can shoot that fast."
Jasper shook his head slowly. "Ain't no joke, Mick. Seen it with my own eyes."
Mickey's jaw went slack. Jessie on the other hand stayed silent, her eyes wide as saucers as they flicked to Caleb, who was calmly pressing down on the patties with his spatula, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.
The sizzle of the meat was the only sound for a long moment.
He glanced over his shoulder, expression neutral. "What? Why's everyone starin' at me?" His tone was casual, almost teasing. "If you got questions, you can save 'em for later. We still got a business to run. Food ain't gonna cook itself."
He flipped the patties, unbothered, as though the blood drying on the main street wasn't still visible from the windows.
The room stayed quiet for a beat before Caleb spoke again, voice firmer this time. "Stations. Now. Whatever you're thinkin' can wait till after close."
Reluctantly, they moved. Jessie tied her apron tighter and went to help Mickey with serving. Troy stepped out front with Jasper to watch for customers, and Simon returned to the fryer, the bubbling of oil soon joining the crackle of meat.
Caleb kept working, but his eyes weren't on the patties alone. A faint ping echoed in his mind, like a distant bell only he could hear. The system interface shimmered before him, overlaying the ordinary world with crisp, golden text.
[Skill Update]
Dead Eye: Level 2 → Level 3
Handgun: Level 3 → Level 4
Cooking: Level 2 → Level 3
Caleb's lips twitched into the barest hint of a grin. Dead Eye and Handgun upgrades weren't a surprise, he'd just erased ten armed men in the blink of an eye. What caught him off guard was the last notification.
"Cooking, huh?" he muttered under his breath, flipping the patties again. The ping for that one came right when he dropped the meat on the griddle after the fight. Guess that's the system's way of sayin' good job keepin' the burgers comin'."
The upgrades meant everything. Higher Dead Eye meant longer slow time, tighter marks. Handgun mastery leveling up meant better recoil control, reload speed, and raw accuracy.
Survival odds just tilted further in his favor and Caleb knew damn well in this world, favor didn't come cheap. Business was dead for about an hour. Nobody wanted to eat burgers while ten corpses were being hauled off Main Street. Caleb didn't mind. Gave him time to think, plan, and let the tension bleed out of his crew.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 3) → (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 3)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 2)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 2) → (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv 2)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2) → (Lvl 3)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
- Acting (Lvl 2)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,580 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 5,407 dollars and 43 cents, 7 gold nuggets, 8 gold bars, 7 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 4 gold rings, 2 silver rings, 4 silver pocket watches, 3 gold buckles, 1 gold pocket compass, 2 platinum pocket watches, 2 Colm's Schofields, and land deed (Parcel)
Bank: -