The air was thick with dust and tension, the dying sun casting the ghost town in a golden haze. The scent of gunpowder still lingered from Boothill’s last shots, mixing with the scent of old wood and dry earth. Kevin and March 7th stood in a rough semicircle around him, breath heavy, bodies coiled like springs.
Boothill adjusted his grip on his revolvers, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Ain’t often I get a pair that lasts this long. Most folks drop after the first shot."
Kevin wiped sweat from his forehead, glaring. "Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint."
March tilted her head, twirling her cara strap in one hand. "Maybe you’re just not a good of a shot as you like to think you are. Reflexes slowing down?"
Boothill barked out a short laugh, cracking his neck. "Oh, I like you, missy. Got so fire in ya. Sha you won’t be leavin’ here to burn any brighter."
Without warning, he moved. A blur of motion, a flick of the wrist, and two more shots rang out, the sound reverberating through the empty street. Kevin dove to the side, landing in a roll behind a water trough. March threw herself backward, kicking up dust as she landed on her back before springing back to her feet.
"Okay, ow," Kevin muttered, patting his sleeve where a bullet had grazed it. "Seriously, does this guy have auto-aim or sothing?"
March darted behind an overturned wagon, panting. "If this is Robin’s doing, I’m kicking her ass first thing when we get back."
Boothill stalked forward, spurs clinking with every deliberate step. "Ain’t no getting back," he drawled. "Ain’t no out of this town, ’cept the kind that ends with you lyin’ face down in the dirt."
Kevin grabbed a broken wooden plank from the ground and popped up from cover. "Yeah?" He swung the plank like a bat, deflecting another bullet. "Well, we’re not going down that easy!"
March used the distraction to make her move. She leapt onto a barrel, then onto a porch railing, using the height advantage to propel herself through the air. She twisted mid-leap, whipping her cara strap toward Boothill’s gun hand.
The strap wrapped around his wrist, and with a sharp yank, she pulled his aim off course. Boothill grunted, trying to shake her off, but she held tight. "What’s wrong, cowboy?" she taunted. "Not used to soone fighting smarter, not harder?"
Boothill scowled and used his free hand to grab the strap, yanking her forward. She stumbled, and he capitalized, bringing his knee up to her stomach. March gasped as the wind was knocked out of her and crashed to the ground.
Kevin cursed and rushed in, swinging the plank again. Boothill sidestepped at the last second and slamd an elbow into Kevin’s back, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
Spitting out dust, Kevin groaned. "You suck."
Boothill crouched down, pressing the barrel of his revolver against Kevin’s forehead. "Got a funny mouth on ya, boy. Sha you won’t be usin’ it much longer."
Then, a bright flash.
Boothill flinched, staggering back with a curse. March grinned, holding up her cara, the flash still glowing. "Gotta say, you look real stupid when you’re caught off guard."
Kevin seized the opening, sweeping Boothill’s legs out from under him. The gunslinger hit the ground hard, his revolvers clattering onto the dirt.
March didn’t hesitate. She snatched up one of his guns and pointed it at him, breathing heavily. "You lose."
Boothill chuckled darkly, his hat falling from his head as he sat up. "You think this is over, little lady?"
Kevin picked up the other revolver and checked the cylinder. "Uh, yeah? You’re outgunned, buddy."
Boothill’s smirk widened. "Ain’t about guns. This ain’t about winnin’ or losin’."
March narrowed her eyes. "Then what the hell is this about?"
He shrugged. "Testin’ ya. Seein’ if you got the spine to make it through." He rolled his shoulders and dusted himself off, completely unbothered by the weapons pointed at him. "Looks like you just might."
Before either of them could react, Boothill abruptly stopped moving, tilting his head as if considering sothing. Then, with an eerie calm, he lifted his revolver forward. "But now... I reckon it’s ti I show you two sothin’ new."
March and Kevin tensed as Boothill’s revolver began to shift, elongating in his hand. The tal groaned and reshaped itself, stretching out into the form of a full-length rifle in re seconds. He smirked, rolling his neck as he took aim. "Bullseye."
The first shot rang out.
Kevin twisted out of the way, but it didn’t matter. The bullet curved midair, slamming into his shoulder. He yelled, staggering back.
March tried to duck behind cover, but the next shot struck her square in the leg. She hit the ground hard. "What the hell?! That’s not fair!"
Boothill chuckled, steadying his rifle. "Life ain’t fair, sweetheart."
Shot after shot followed, each one landing no matter what they did. They rolled, sprinted, zigzagged—nothing worked. Boothill advanced with slow, thodical steps, his rifle never missing its mark. Kevin was forced back, arm burning with pain. March struggled to stay standing, her breath ragged.
Boothill exhaled, lining up another shot. "Looks like you two ain’t got an answer for this one. Sha. I was enjoyin’ the challenge."
Kevin gritted his teeth. "March... we need a plan. Fast."
March winced, gripping her bleeding leg. "Yeah? Well, unless you got an anti-bullet button in your pocket, I’m fresh out of ideas."
Boothill smirked as he cocked the rifle again. "Then I guess this is where the road ends."
The air crackled with tension. What was going to be the next move on March and Kevin’s part?
What could they really do?
Boothill exhaled, lining up another shot. "Looks like you two ain’t got an answer for this one. Sha. I was enjoyin’ the challenge."
Kevin gritted his teeth, then made a decision. A reckless, desperate decision. He took a deep breath, stepping forward despite the pain. "Hey, Boothill," he called out.
"Wanna see sothin’ cool?"
Boothill raised an eyebrow, but kept his rifle trained on Kevin. "I don’t really like surprises...Unless I’m the one givin’em."
Kevin ignored him. He closed his eyes and focused, tapping into sothing deeper, sothing raw. Flas erupted around him, swirling in arcs of golden light. His body shimred as he rged with the Judgnt of Shamash, a blazing aura enveloping his form.
March shielded her eyes from the sudden brightness. "Kevin, what the hell—"
Before she could finish, Kevin vanished. In an instant, he was gone—no dust kicked up, no motion blur. Just gone.
Then, a fraction of a second later, he reappeared right in front of Boothill.
Boothill’s eyes widened, but he had no ti to react. Kevin’s fist, wreathed in roaring flas, slamd into his chest with the force of a cannon. The impact sent Boothill flying, his boots dragging through the dirt for dozens of feet before he crashed into a pile of barrels.
Kevin straightened, fire crackling off his form, his golden aura casting long shadows against the town’s battered walls. He rolled his shoulders. "Yeah! That’s what I thought Boothill!"
Boothill gradually proceeded to get up as his face was now filled with anger.
"Ya damn screwed up..."
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