I opened a shop on the Astral Train

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 camera 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 some fire in ya. Shame 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 something?"

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 camera strap toward Boothill’s gun hand.