The Lost Outworlders

... Becomes the Hunted

Hunter was taking a nice, relaxing nap in an office on the second floor of the warehouse, dreaming peacefully on a sofa.

That peace was interrupted when he heard a door band open from the first floor. He jolted awake, falling off the couch and onto the floor. He sprang to his feet in an instant, immediately wide awake. He knew exactly what was going on.

Showtime, he thought as he exited the office, donning a black cowboy hat and trench coat in the process.

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He leaned against the railing of the second floor, looking down at the first. He saw about twenty of his men all staring worriedly at a severely injured Jacob.

"Woah, boy, Jake," he shouted at the younger man, "What happened to you?" Jacob had his right arm bent at and awful angle, and he was limping due to the bullet hole in his hip. Hunter guessed the outing didn't go so well.

"Sir!" Jacob shouted, not even acknowledging his pain, "He's right outside!"

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A few minutes earlier...

The kid packed a punch but he was too gutsy, too intent on hitting him in the face. If the boy had focused more on the lower body, Erron might have said he stood a small chance (Not a lot of people were brave enough to attack Erron in broad daylight, especially not in no wide alleyway, his very element). But the kid kept aiming for the head so his right armed swing to his cheek was expected and Erron easily caught him by the wrist.

Before the young one could react, the gunslinger slinged out a pistol, twirled it to where he was holding it by the barrel, and swung the butt of it into the kid's elbow, greatly bending the ligament in an unnatural angle.

Erron then pushed him back with his foot and fired a bullet into the kid's waist. The wound should have left him grounded, but he kept his footing and even aimed another punch to Erron's neck. Erron easily blocked it and uppercut the boy in the jaw, but still the little shit wouldn't go down.

It wasn't until they were kept separated by three gunshots between them that the kid halted. Erron was a little puzzled; he didn't fire any of those shots.

"Jacob," he heard a voice shout, "Go get the boss. I got him." It was only then that the young but tough son of a bitch turned around and limped off. Erron took note of Jacob's direction before seeking out the hidden challenger.

Well his challenger didn't remain hidden for long, for not a second later a thin, teenage looking boy walked into sight. He wore tight, black jeans and a black hoodie. Just the sight of his attire made Erron sweat; his was around high noon and easily over ninety degrees. Aside from his uncomfortable fashion sense, the boy had a Winchester rifle strapped behind his back.

"Step aside, junior," Erron said smoothly while he replaced the bullet that went into Jacob's hip.

"Turn around, cowboy," the teenager replied almost as smoothly. He stood in a stance that reminded Erron of his old showdown days; the clock would strike 12:00, high noon, and they'd both fire, but only one would fall. The kid pulled his rifle from behind his back, keeping the business end pointed in the gunslinger's direction.

Erron got into a quickdraw stance before replying, "I warned ya."

The two stood in the alley without movement for a few moments, each sizing up the other. Whenever Erron saw a twitch in the boy's arm, he immediately ducked, a slug flying over his head. He retaliated by taking a step forward and drawing and firing a shot from both of his pistols. The rifleboy went into a pose that allowed the bullets to whiz right past him. He was evidently more skilled than Erron gave him credit for.