The HellBullet [Progression Weird Western]

Rumors from the night spread through the city like roots — a crazy girl, alone in the dark, shooting into the air for no apparent reason. Her screams still echoed through the streets, frightening adults and children alike. The multiple gunshots had spread as yet another rumor, wrapping the redheaded girl in the mystery of what had happened the night before.

Countless stories emerged, legends built around it all. The wounded jester, the galloping horse, red explosions in the darkness. To the eyes of those who had witnessed it, it was like watching ghosts rise from the shadows to drag the innocent down to hell.

And there was one of the main figures in that legend. Bonnie and company were about to board the train on the Ashwood line. The station was especially packed that morning. After everything that had happened, it was no surprise.

"Next stop?" Evelyn said with a smile.

Lady jotted a few notes as she answered.

"There's not much to worry about since we have enough money to last the rest of the year — but as Vicky always says, it's better to keep moving and figure out what to do in the next towns along the way. That takes us to the town of Black Ridge, across the border into the next state — Westmoor."

Slightly anxious, Bonnie turned her eyes toward Victoria, who was talking with some of the train staff. Probably about the horses in the rear cars. Since livestock was also typically transported there, everyone hoped the horses wouldn't have too exhausting a trip on the way to the next state. But that wasn't Bonnie's only concern.

'This is the first time I'll be leaving the State of New Providence. I've read about Westmoor — the state where the Iron Fort is, the home of President Blackmore — but I have no idea how advanced the technology is in its cities and counties. Worse, I don't know whether I'll run into the Devil's Cult there.'

After everything with Scaramuccia, the circus in Steam City, and her arrival in this world, she knew no one was actively chasing her. That left open the slim possibility that the Devil's Cult still didn't know what had happened that day in the mesas near Warlock County. In turn, that gave her a small window of calm in which she could breathe for now.

And now she was leaving this state entirely. That was a good thing — not only because she'd be following the directive of the Outlaw's Ballad, which demanded she never belong to any one place for too long. There were still some very murky things about the Ballad she didn't fully understand yet, but the further she got into her journey, the more she was sure she'd uncover. Who knew — maybe someday she might become as formidable as Sheriff Marcus.

"All set, girl. Let's board," Victoria said to Bonnie, giving her a small pat on the back.

"Oh — right. Let's go."

One of her bags, brand-new clothes on for the first time — she wore a slightly off-white shirt, a short corset, blue denim trousers, and her classic boots. The hat and the feather were the same as before. Now she stood slightly distinct from her companions.

The four of them boarded the train. The image of it was exactly the same as the one Bonnie had seen in her memories — except that this time, the people had faces, and the conversations around her carried at least a faint sense of meaning.

Then she found the seat listed on her ticket, right by the window — her lucky day. She sat down and waited for the locomotive to move. Lady came next, settling in beside her.

"Let's keep each other company on this ride — what do you say?"

"Sure, no problem," Bonnie answered.

And that was a relief.

'Thank every god that exists, you've saved me from sitting next to Evelyn.'

In fact, Thieving Cat was happily seated in front of them alongside Victoria. La Señora crossed her arms and closed her eyes, as though meditating. The real reason Bonnie hadn't wanted to share a seat with Evelyn was, obviously, because of what had happened the night before.

And it had been worse when she woke up — because, like a clingy child, she had been hugging a drowsy Evelyn. The poor cat was squashed between the two of them, barely able to meow for help. The heavens had taken pity and Bonnie snapped apart from them all at once, rolling across the bed and tumbling headfirst off the edge.

The noise had woken Evelyn, who stretched out on the bed while Cat did exactly the same. The rest was a blurry memory of Bonnie packing all her things and changing her clothes at the speed of lightning.

'I think I need to learn to control myself. That's been made pretty clear to me more than once…'

Yes, she had been stubborn.

Choo-choo! The train whistle screamed. At the door, the conductor rang a silver bell and called out:

"All aboard! Last call for the Dustfall Express! Departing for Black Ridge, State of Westmoor!"

The machinery could already be heard rumbling in the back. The engineer was ready, and the firemen checked the pressure. Outside, a cloud of steam rose from the chimney as the last passengers climbed on. Bonnie breathed deep, her back pressed all the way into her seat.

It was time to go…

Lady looked at her with curiosity. Bonnie was far too anxious all at once, and it only got worse when the doors closed and the train began to move. The metallic screech of wheels on rails rang through the entire car — and finally, their journey was underway.

At the station, a young woman or two said goodbye to a loved one; others simply waved a hand.

"There they go," people said.

And she wasn't the only one leaving that city.

Covered in bandages over his eyes, with ropes around his wrists and ankles, Scaramuccia groaned, wriggling the gag free. He thrashed on Marcus's horse and fell face-first to the ground. He complained about the impact and the Sheriff let out a tired sigh.

"How many times are you going to do the same thing, clown?"

"As many times as it takes to get away from you."

"I think I'm going to have to tie you up differently."

Marcus looped the lasso around the saddle horn and then fastened it to the jester's wrists.

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

"I'm not going to do that. I think this will be easier."

Climbing back onto the horse, Marcus gave a faint smile. Scaramuccia hadn't realized what was happening to him until the horse moved and his wrists lurched forward — dragging him across the ground.

"No! Let me go! You'll kill me doing this!"

"You won't die. You're Third Stigma, same as me — you can handle a few miles of this."

"Ahhhhhh!"

The blazing sun bore down on those unfortunate enough to be out in the desert. But those on the train weren't spared — inside a metal box heated to power its engine, the warmth was even greater. Sweat ran down Bonnie's neck as she closed her eyes in front of the window, soaking in every strong gust of air that dried her face.

"Leave some of that breeze for me, Bonnie," said Lady.

"Sorry — I'm melting over here."

Lady let out a soft, restrained laugh at that. It seemed to be something characteristic of her — because unlike Evelyn, Lady tended to be more "refined," her good table manners and the discreet way she sometimes covered her laugh being traits of someone who had come from a certain kind of standing. Or maybe, who knew, she had simply learned to be modest.

Bonnie sat up properly again. Lady, for her part, pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her.

"Here. Dry your face with this."

"Thank you."

"And well — since we're here, why don't we talk a little? You've spent the whole time with Evelyn. If you keep that up, you'll end up just like her."

"What?"

"Though I'm not sure that's really a bad thing. Anyway, I won't joke about that — that's Evelyn's specialty, and she's particularly good at it."

'Fair enough — it's not as if I had the chance. Though under that thought, Lady is the person I've talked to the least out of the three. I should have guessed it would bother her at some point.'

"They say there are a lot of opportunities to learn new things in Westmoor," Lady said. From her pocket she pulled out a folded piece of paper that, when she opened it, turned out to be a map of the country.

Columbia had a shape somewhat similar to the United States of America — except that along the left side, a large stretch of land was missing, replaced by a pair of large islands. Close to that territory was all the land belonging to the native peoples, commonly called "Indians" by the "white man."

"Though what people say about it is completely different from what you actually find there."

"What do you mean? Have you been to Westmoor?"

"You could say that, yes. It's the state where I was born — specifically, in this place."

Lady pressed her finger to the map — Westmoor, not the state as a whole, but a city: the Great City of Westmoor. Bonnie raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"That place is…"

"Yes. Someday I'll tell you my story there — but for now, what I'm most interested in is telling you what you might find."