Deputy Wesson ran down the dirt trail as fast as he could. The trees blurred past him as he searched for the phone that his sheriff ordered him to find. The phone that could potentially save many lives. The phone that could save his life.
The phone that wouldn’t invalidate Smith’s sacrifice.
As Deputy Wesson ran, he couldn’t help but think about how this morning was just another boring patrol that led to disaster.
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Sheriff Smith, Deputy Wesson, and Deputy Remington were all standing on top of a small cliff overlooking a long dirt trail downhill. Smith was looking through binoculars at what Remington had reported to him, forcing Smith and Wesson to come and check up on what was found.
Smith saw a group of people armed to the teeth. A dozen men carrying rifles, many of which Smith recognized as automatics. One man carried equipment for a rocket launcher. Another man carried what seemed to be mortar parts. Finally, Smith could see that there was a short human man in the middle who had a rifle slung over his back with a pistol at his side. He was the only one that wasn’t carrying a large bag of equipment. That would be the man slightly behind him, struggling to carry two large bags with him.
Smith deduced that the man without the large bag must be the leader of this small group. They weren’t coming for peace, though. They were coming to kill, and Smith took up a duty to protect the people of the village of Wasabi. He knew what to do.
Smith lowered Remington’s binoculars and gave them to Wesson, who looked through them to see the group for himself. Smith looked around at the environment, thinking. Wesson, on the other hand, hissed at what he saw. He lowered the binoculars and handed them back to Remington with a pale face. Remington’s stoic face was equally “pale”. At least, as pale as a black man could be.
“They certainly aren’t here for our Wasabi,” Wesson cracked a joke to lift the tension. Smith grunted as he looked at where the path led and what was around it. “I know, that’s why I brought you here. I would’ve called for Stok and Berrel if I didn’t want the village to at least have some defense.” Replied Remington.
Smith nodded as he rubbed his chin, looking at a certain spot on the road that was going through two small hills. He praised Remington, “You certainly did the right thing. I don’t think this is the ‘main force’ for these guys.” Both deputies looked at him, subtly telling him to explain. Smith did so, “Look at their bags. Despite being big, they certainly aren’t big enough to carry months of food. They also don’t have any sign of a tarp or other tent equipment. I think they were sent to soften up Wasabi Village to the others in their group.”
Wesson sighed and slumped in disappointment at the confirmation of his worst fears. He muttered out, “Great, bandits after what just happened. What’s next, a hurricane?” Remington quickly smacked Wesson on his back. “Quit it!” He hissed under his breath, “Don’t go giving us bad luck! Don’t you know that predicting worse events makes them happen?” Wesson just waved off Remington, saying, “Come on, man. Don’t let that superstitious nonsense get to you now. Once we’re done here, I’ll, I don’t know, go and rub some statue’s feet for good luck, or something.”
Smith stepped in as he saw Remington about to blow up at Wesson for such non-chalantness. “You two can have your hate sex later. Come on, I have an idea on how to stop them.” He walked ahead to where he knows his men would have an advantage in the upcoming battle. All the while, he ignored the disgusted comments coming from his deputies.
“Remington? Urgh… Come on, Sheriff, don’t make me puke up from such an ugly image. It’s already bad enough to think about him being the only one on the force reproducing. Makes me think of him and his wife using snake skins and ‘essential oils’ to spice up their sex life for ‘good luck’.”
“Shhh! Shut up, Smith! What if my wife hears what you just said? She’s been using a crystal ball she saw on TV to try and spy on me, you know? I don’t want to end up on the couch because you said me and Wesson here. She’s got us this new thing for tonight, and I’m not waiting for tomorrow for it!”
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Before anything else, you must understand something about Sheriff Smith. He’s pretty young for a Sheriff, almost 30 years old. Most Sheriffs in the world are inducted into their office around the age of 38-40. Why the difference? Because Sheriff Smith was a bit of a local legend amongst the village of Wasabi.
Smith grew up under his father and mother, plus six other siblings. His dad was a good hunter, and managed to bag many ostriches and young boars throughout his career. Smith looked up to his dad and wanted to be a good hunter, just like him. So, when his father began teaching young Smith how to shoot at the tender age of 9, young Smith took to it with gusto.
The surprising part was, he was insanely dedicated to shooting. That first shot he made with his dad’s revolver ingrained a sense of wonder and love into him for shooting. Every time he could get away with practicing at a local gun range, regardless of if it was inside or outside, young Smith took it. Sometimes he would come back smelling like gunpowder and would be forced by his mother to clean up outside before even thinking of stinking up the house. Didn’t even matter if it was dark out with mosquitos sucking him dry, he needed to clean himself.
Either way, young Smith loved to shoot. He went to every local shooting competition that would allow him to join at a young age. Didn’t matter if it was long range sniping, or indoor combat scenarios. Young Smith would enter them all and love it. Most of the time, he didn’t even enter the top 10 competitors, but he just wanted to shoot.
All of this to say, young Smith loved guns, shooting them, and feeling them in his grip. Sometimes he would even sleep in his bed with a gun on his nightstand.
However, something changed when he became a freshman in high school. He loved guns, yes, but he also wanted companionship with people, too. That’s why he gained a crush on a specific girl in his small class. One who was kind and loved the great outdoors.
He walked up to her and asked her out on a date, but was gently rejected. He asked her if there was any way for him to get a date with her, and she thought on that. She came up with a challenge for him. If he could get first place in every category at the upcoming regional gun shooting competition for all ages, she would go out on a date with him.
Young Smith took her up on that offer and began training in his life-long love.
Months later, young Smith sauntered up to the competition as confident as a fresh 15-year-old boy could be. His opponents were all men in their 30s and 40s, having been shooting for most of their lives. Yet, many of those men only participated for 2 or 3 of the competitions that were happening that day. They brought guns and equipment made especially for helping them in those challenges.
Scopes that could see an ant up to 100 meters away. Rifles capable of shooting through concrete brick walls. Pistols modified to hold more than thirty bullets at a time. Holsters made to help with quickdrawing. Shotguns that could fire more pellets than usual to hit midair targets.
Young Smith only brought his dad’s revolver and a ratty and old holster on his hip.
Yet, despite the looks he got from his competitors of a teenager rocking up to competitions with just revolver, he destroyed everyone there with what he did.
He didn’t win, just to let you know.
What? He was just seriously training for only a few months at that point. There’s no way he could defeat people with rifles at 500 meter range shooting with a revolver. Or hit the most clay targets in a shotgun competition. Or quickdraw with such a ratty, old holster. He didn’t win in every category, no way.
It was the fact that he was close at all to the top three that really stunned everyone there.
He might’ve lost in the 500 meter long range shooting competition, but, out of a group of 13 competitors, Smith ranked 6th. He shot 13 out of 20 targets, each one of varying sizes.
He also lost the quickdraw competition, mostly because he refused to stand like the others who leaned back like it was limbo. Yet he ranked 7th out of 18. His quickdraw was less than a third of a second, without doing the ridiculous stance the other shooters were doing. He told them, “Why would I ever stand like that? My opponent would never take me seriously if I looked like you do.”
Many didn’t like him after that.
Smith lost the clay shooting competition, but still managed to hit some in mid-air. It resulted in him placing 11th out of 15. Many people there couldn’t quite understand how this young boy was so good at shooting, but they would go crazy for the best feat he had done all day.
You see, there was a competition for who could shoot moving targets in a “realistic” situation. They created a shooting range with human-shaped targets on belts moving in and out of cover. The area looked like one of those ‘wild west’ areas filled with taverns, chairs, tables, horses, barrels and other obstacles to prevent you from shooting them. The horses were just metal pictures, by the way. They weren’t actual horses.
However, some targets weren’t just ones you had to shoot, but also some were innocent ‘civilians’ like children. The targets you had to shoot were ‘dressed up’ like bandits with red handkerchiefs on their face. Those targets would sometimes hide behind civilians so you couldn’t shoot them.
Smith decided to show that he could shoot them by ricocheting his bullets off of a barrel and hitting the target right between the eyes.
Needless to say, Smith won that competition.
Many people were impressed, but Smith knew that he still lost his goal. He loved the training he did, and the fact that he could see himself being so much better than others who were using the right gun for the competitions and still fell behind his skill let him understand just how impressive he is.
In the end, though, he walked up to his crush at school the next day and told her he lost. She laughed and said, “Lost? I was there, you were the best of them all! No one has the skills quite like you do. Come on, let’s go on a date.” So they did. However, his new girlfriend gave him one caveat he had to follow. “If you want me to keep dating you, you’ll have to get top 3 in every regional shooting competition from now on. If you don’t get top 3, I’ll stop dating you. I mean it this time! You can’t seduce me with your skills like you did last time.”
So, Smith kept up his gun training. This time, though, he just trained in all forms of guns. He would still show up at the competitions with his dad’s revolver and reach top 3 in them all.
For 3 years they kept dating. Smith would continue improving in his shooting skills, and his girlfriend would still be his girlfriend. She also surprised him with a kiss every time he got first place in any of his competitions, which further improved his drive to improve. Soon, his reputation as “The Wild West Cowboy of the East” preceded him in his village and the local region.
However, one day, it all changed for the worst. Smith was a fresh 18-year-old Senior and was invited to join a world competition for shooting. Smith didn’t want to leave his girlfriend since she and her family can’t go with him, but she encouraged him to go and bring back his #1 trophy. She also told him something when they were alone. “Come back with a ring, and I’ll marry you.~”
Smith was more pumped than ever. He went to the competition and talked to his girlfriend almost every day on the phone during it. He wanted to surprise her with the ring he got, since he used the 100,000 Zeni prize money he won from multiple competitions to get her a custom made ring that showed all of their little moments spent together.
Unfortunately, something happened on the day he was coming back.
He got on the train to head back home, believing everything was fine and dandy. When he got there, he was faced with something horrible.
A new terrorist group called the Red Ribbon Army had bombed his village. His village was near a World Kingdom Army base and was subsequently hit with collateral from planes that were too inaccurate. Thankfully, only a few people actually died in the bombing, and most people came out with just a broken bone or some blood loss or hearing damage.
His girlfriend and her family weren't one of the lucky ones.
At that point in time, Smith was listless. His next few months were foggy as he went through high school, being consoled by every one there. Including a freshman named Wesson. However, he wouldn’t remember Wesson for a good long while.
Smith went through the motions of life, but much more broody and angry. He would snap at anyone who would even be an ‘annoyance’ to him. His father couldn’t snap him out of it, and his mother was sad at what her boy was going through. Smith kept his engagement ring he was going to propose to his girlfriend with a chain necklace around his neck. He would sometimes just sit for close to an hour, playing and rubbing it in his hands. He would think about all of the good times he had with her.
The worst part? He was so listless that he no longer shot his guns, or kept his dad’s gun and holster on him. He couldn’t care less.
Then, one day, he heard about how the World Kingdom had declared war on the terrorist threat known as the Red Ribbon Army. This gave purposeless Smith something. A path to avenge her. A path to get rid of all of this anger welling inside of him.
Smith began to train once more in his shooting. His aim getting better and better, and his patience coming back as well. His family, however, noticed that he was still angry. They tried to get him to cheer up, to not throw himself into battle to either kill for revenge or die to meet her again. He didn’t listen.
After months of training and graduation, Smith joined the World Kingdom Army. His bootcamp wasn’t the best, as he still kept his ring with him under his shirt. His Drill Sergeant tried to take it at one point, but it led to a fight where Smith gained a broken wrist in his dominant hand and a busted up head. The Drill Sergeant lost a huge chunk of his ear when Smith bit it off.
In the end, Smith got to keep his ring, because he kept threatening to kill anyone who would try and take it from him and he almost always followed through on his threats. He just wasn’t very successful without a gun in his hands.
Speaking of his skills with guns, Smith had further proved that he was a freak of nature with guns by being able to use a rifle one handed with his non-dominant hand. He further stunned everyone by being able to hit head-sized targets up to 300 meters with said rifle. This all happened after he got his wrist broken. He wished he had his father’s, now his, revolver. Mostly because everything felt better with it. He can’t even ricochet bullets off of surfaces without it.
It should be noted that Smith didn’t improve his skills with aiming guns. Boot camp just didn’t have the training or facilities needed to further push him. What he did improve was his overall fighting abilities. All of his training so far was for competitions, not for battlefields or actual fights. He did manage to incorporate his revolver in spars by bringing a fake gun and ‘using’ it to win matches.
After bootcamp, Smith was allowed back his revolver in everyday life. He was immediately put to the field for his gun skills and proceeded to spend 8 years fighting against the Red Ribbon Army on various fronts and missions. Here, he found tricks to help with his shooting. Ways to reload his revolver without looking. Ways to shoot silently. Ways to kill as many Red Ribbon grunts as he could.
He did this for 8 years, and caused the opposition to call him “the White Cowboy”. Death came when Smith was around.
Then he retired after his 8 years were up. He went home and became a deputy, alongside the new deputy Wesson. Then, one month after he became a deputy, a group of 20 bandits came up to pillage his village. Smith and Wesson fought them off and killed 12. 11 were Smith’s.
He became a local hero, and became the next Sheriff just a year later.
Now, he had to fight off this new batch of bandits. Still, he fought off greater numbers before, he will fight them off now.
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Wesson aimed his semi-automatic rifle at the group of bandits walking up. He was somewhat hidden by the trees above them. He was on a small hill that could overlook the battlefield and he was told to only shoot when Smith gave him and Remington the signal to do so through the radio.
Smith was hiding close by the group of bandits, but Wesson couldn’t see where. He just kept his sights on the bandit down his barrel.
The bandits stopped upon hearing Smith somewhere. “Good morning, boys! Hope you all aren’t here to do something violent.” The bandits stopped what they were doing and pointing in the direction of where they heard Smith. The one without a large bag, the leader, shouted back. “No! Not at all! We’re simply coming back from a good hunt. We seemed to have become lost, though. Would you mind leading us to town?”
Smith replied back. “A good hunt, huh? … I don’t see any meat on you. You fellas sure you went hunting?” The bandit leader chuckled back. He nodded his head forward, and some of his men started to walk up to where they heard Smith. “Oh, we are going on a good hunt. Just lead us to town so we can get it over with! We promise, if you come out now, we’ll just take your stuff and leave you tied up. Much better than the alternative!”
Wesson heard his radio crackle silently beside him, “Shoot, now!” Wesson followed his orders and fired.
One went down- no, two. Looks like Remington managed to get his own guy. Wesson didn’t have time for thinking about anything else as he aimed at more bandits and started firing once more.
The bandits, on the other hand, panicked and started to fire at where Smith was, so Wesson started to aim for those people instead. Other bandits fell that Wesson didn’t aim at, so that must be Remington.
Soon, every bandit other than the short human leader had died. Said bandit immediately turned around and tried to run away. Before either Wesson or Remington could shoot him, a shot went off and the bandit collapsed. He was rocking and holding his leg.
Looks like Smith got him again. The radio crackled again. “All right, boys, come on down.” Wesson did so with a smile on his face.
As Wesson walked closer to the downed bandit, he saw the bandit talking into his own radio. “- us. I repeat, they got us all. Please, get here, sir!” He stopped as he noticed the three men walk up to him. He squirmed to look at them all. He sneered at them. “Wait, till the boss gets here! No way you’ll be able to stop him!”
Smith smirked. “That’s all fine and dandy, but I think that we should talk about what you know. Who are you? How many are there?”
The bandit spat at Smith’s feet. “Like I’ll tell you anything!” Smith wiped the spit off onto some grass. “See, I don’t think you have a choice.” He sauntered up to the man. “After all, we could just head a couple hundred meters into the forest and leave you there. Your boss wouldn’t be able to hear you, then.” The bandit’s eyes widened, and he started to sweat waterfalls. “Y-You wouldn’t. You’re the Sheriff! Aren’t you suppose to, take me to jail or something?”
Smith looked around at the other bodies. He said nothing, and the bandit trembled.
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“Why do I have to be the one carrying this piece of shit?” Whined Wesson, struggling to carry a bound and gagged moon bandit.
They managed to get him to crack, eventually. The Moon Bandits were about 50 strong, counting the group that the sheriff and his deputies put down. Their ‘boss’, Moon Shine, was apparently a bear person and has never been harmed as far as their informant told them.
Smith seemed to take what he said seriously, but Wesson didn’t know why. When asked, Smith just said, “There are some strong people out there.”
“Because you’ve been getting fat, Wesson.” Teased Remington, keeping an eye out behind Wesson for anything. “Didn’t you eat an entire cake just last week? Didn’t you tell me about how you bought a new one yesterday?”
“Bah! Go suck an egg, Remmy!” Wesson hissed back. Still, he kept trudging forward.
They’ve been walking for a while, they should be able to get back to town in about 45 minutes or so-
Smith held up his hand and brought out his revolver. “Hold!” he commanded. Remington put his gun up, ready to shoot whatever Smith heard. Wesson turned around to see what it was.
Wesson could feel his heart stop. There was an eight and a half tall bear person with only a pair of cloth pants and two swords in his hands. This must be Moon Shine. Said bear person growled, “Wayne, you disappoint me.” Smith aimed at Moon Shine, before telling him, “Back off, Moon Shine. Stay still or I’ll-” Smith didn’t get to finish his order before Moon Shine surged forward.
Both Remington and Smith shot at Moon Shine. Smith shot twice while Remington only shot once. Mostly because Moon Shine got to him before he could pull the trigger again.
Wesson looked on as Remington’s shot to the abdomen did nothing while Smith’s bullets struck Moon Shine’s heart and between the eyes, yet none of them actually pierced the skin. It was something that really messed with his mind at the fact that someone is capable of being bullet proof that wasn’t some wild animal of some kind. Just your own skin being incapable of being damaged by bullets would be revolutionary for armies world-wide!
Unfortunately, Wesson couldn’t focus on that as he saw Remington’s head fly off from Moon Shine’s sword.
Smith shouted at Wesson. “Wesson! Drop him and inform the others of what’s coming! I’ll stay here and take care of Moon Shine!”
Wesson snapped out of his staring at Remington’s head, and began to run away.
Smith kept his eyes on Moon Shine and pulled back his hammer as a bead of sweat rolled down his face.
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Smith ran for a good ten minutes before finding a phone. Thankfully, this wasn’t a payphone. He picked it up and called the Mayor’s number. After a few rings, Mayor Wrecking picked it up.
“Sir! You have to warn Stok and Berrel! The Moon Bandits are coming! They killed Remington, a-and…”
…
“N-No, I’m not messing with you! Remington’s dead and Smith stayed behind to handle their boss, Moon Shine.”
…
“Look, I don’t care if you need to recruit citizens, just arm as many people as you can. Moon Shine is coming and we need as mu-” SNAP Wesson turned around an-
Moon Shine panted as he stared down at the whelp’s bisected body. The phone was already cut from the line. However, Moon Shine wasn’t focusing on that. Rather, he was focusing on his wounds.
His body was littered with bullet holes, something he didn’t know could actually pierce his hide. That sheriff surely was something else. It reminded him of meeting one of the Red Ribbon Army generals, but he was nowhere near as strong. Yet, he was still capable of piercing his hide with just his bullets alone, something that even the Red Ribbon Army’s guns couldn’t do to him.
Moon Shine snorted out some blood from his nose and brought up his right hand to wipe it away. He stopped when he realized that a good chunk of his nose was gone as well as two of his fingers. He groaned as he felt his arm pulse with pain at the bullets within. He used his other arm to bring up what he took from the Sheriff, but had to bring it closer to his right side as he remembered that his left eye got shot out.
There, in his hand, was a necklace with a super expensive looking ring on it.
AN: SHit! I forgot to post this up! Fuck!