My spiky grey hair gleamed in the sun as I squinted at the target. The cold metal of the gun rubbed against my callused hands, my fingers flickering upon the trigger.
Shoot, damn you, I swore. Shoot.
My face tightening in concentration, my grip did not loosen. My finger flicked against the trigger, cold. The bullet came spinning out of the barrel. Hitting the middle of the target with a thud, at which I winced. Letting out a breath I had not known I had been holding, I opened my eyes.
And there was the bullet. Sitting perched in the middle of the target, threads of the target ripped apart. The bullet's tip gleamed at him as if with a wiry smile. I dropped my hand.
"Nice shot," a man's voice pitched. Moving from where the figure had his back against a wooden pole that stood out to near then road. He donned a smart navy racing jumper with the number 51 splayed in yellow across it.
"Thanks," I grumbled, agitatedly. Impending the shot that would came next, I raised my arms. But the man seemed to have no sense for the immediate danger. On the contrary, he took a dainty step into my line of fire. Tapping my foot against the cobbled ground, I waited for him to leave. But when he didn't I moved a hand through the loose strands of my grey hair and let out an agonisingly loud sigh.
"Who are you?" I questioned sullenly. The man flicked dust off his navy grey cloak, turning up the collar to his neck. In a way that I supposed was meant to be cool but in truth just made him look like an arrogant asshole.
"You don't know me?" He laughed. Subconsciously fixing my 'sheriff' badge, so that it stared back at him. Gleaming in the sun.
"I don't," I approved. At this his laugh died down and the sea-wide grin fell from his face.
"I'm the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Winner of three consecutive piston cups," he smirked, arrogance entwined in every note.
Piston cups, I thought, what in hell is a piston cup? Alas, I did not voice my concerns out loud. Instead I simply continued to raise my gun, pointing at Hudson who stood in the midst of the target. I squinted my hand dramatically close to the trigger.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Fabulous but right now your standing right in the line of fire," I smirked. Copying his air which should have looked quite daunting to him. Almost before he could even leave said line, ducking underneath the barrier and out I took the shoot.
Bulls eye.
So that's my prologue, Doc is, as always the rookie and show off with arrogance and discipline. Sheriff is, of course, just a sheriff. With a gun and a town to save. In the next chapter we'll have a little more DocxSheriff content and more of our favourite Route 66 characters. Please note all characters are humanised and I do not own any of these characters nor the place. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.
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BULLSEYE
RomanceA lonely sheriff wandering the town meets a racer so far away from home. Ignited in him like a spark that will not go out is first anger. A fire of vengeance and disgrace. And then it is a fear of a kind that he never would have expected.
