Standoff

|1|Outlaw|

"Dust devil comin' in soon. Look at that sky." A patron at Skull Fire tavern nods his head at the grey, foreboding clouds, his pal agrees with a shake of his noggin'.

"Aye, god forbid any sucker to get caught out in that."

At that moment, a man with ashen hair and dull, steely eyes strolls into the tavern, his brown leather hat torn and ripped, a red bandana around his neck, a black leather vest over a ripped, red cotton shirt.

A lit cigar takes residence in his mouth, and a flintlock in a holster on his belt, with each footstep the jingle of his boots resounds throughout the building. And sending chills throughout the patron's hearts.

At the bar, he pulls up a rickety old stool, and motions for the barkeep to come over, his face hidden by the shadow of his hat.

"Give me the strongest thing you got, straight, don't water it down." He asks, though it sounds like a demand, the barkeep pours an amber liquid into a short glass, and slides it into the man's hand.

"Much obliged." The stranger tips his hat and puts down a few golden coins as payment, the stranger gulps down his drink, when a man, burly, bald, and a tattoo of a snake on his shoulder sits beside him. The stranger is unfazed, and smirks.

"Have I seen you around somewhere before stranger? Could've sworn I've seen your face somewhere." The burly man with bark brown eyes turns away to hide the expression on his face.

"Heh, I don't think so. Maybe you're mistaken me for someone else?" The stranger takes a long, deep chug of his drink, and if anything his smirk gets bigger.

"Nah. I know where I've seen your mug before. It's plastered over every wanted board in the west!" The burly man turns to reveal a sinister smile, and his flintlock in his hand.

"And last I checked, you got quite the bounty on your head. Dead or Alive." The stranger isn't fazed by this, instead, he finishes his drink with a smile.

The stranger chuckles, twirling the trickle of drink left in his cup.

"Well, that tends to happen when you rob a train, gun down a towns sheriff and sleep with the pastors daughter."

The burly man explodes in booming laughter, sliding his flintlock back into his pocket and giving the stranger a huge, brotherly side hug.

"Ahahah! It's good to see your ugly mug again Aaron!" Aaron buys the burly man a drink and chuckles as he gulps it down.

"Mason. I thought you got caught."

Mason chuckles, and grins bigger than before.

"I did. But you know no cell can hold me for long, the boys busted me out." Aaron nods, a tiny laugh escaping his lips.

"Laurence and Garroth still holdin' up then? And Dante? He still kickin?" He asks, and Mason nods, chuckling thinking of them.

"Aye, Laurence and Garroth layin' low for awhile, they almost got caught on our last raid. Dante, well, you know him, sleepin' with every girl he can get to."

"Not that you're much better in that regard eh Aaron?" Mason laughs, but Aaron's face falls a little bit.

"It was once, I thought she'd wait for me, I was about to hang up the hat too, then went after that gentleman from the east." Aaron feels his already numb heart turn in anger, but he shakes it off.

"But enough about me, I haven't heard from you, you still seein' that lass from Rivervale?" Mason seems to laugh harder at this, and finishes the rest of his drink.

"Sal? On again off again, currently off again."

"I see..." Aaron replies, ordering another two drinks for the both of them.

"I know this isn't a reunion Mason, what lead you to track me down?" Aaron asks, and Mason sighs, gulping down his drink.

"Yeah, I uh... need your help."

Aaron sighs, and he slowly puts down his drink and looks at him.

"You know I-"

"You're retired. I know, but just one last heist." Mason pleads, but Aaron shakes his head.

"No. I'm done, I did my last years ago."

"It's 28,000,000.$."

Aaron's heart immediately stops, and slowly he turns to Mason, skeptical.

"Twenty Eight million?"

"It's coming on a military convoy, will be in the area within the week. I know you said that you're done. But this would set us for life." Aaron sighs and doesn't respond, just swivels his drink in his glass.

"Here, this is where the boy's and I will be meeting up, if you decide to join us, you'll get a cut." Mason hands him a slip of paper, and sits up, strolling out of the bar.

Aaron stares up at the ceiling, and stuffs the paper in his pocket.

He drains his drink, tips his hat to the barkeep, and strolls out.