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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2204775
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2204775
A young cow-bot gets challenged to a duel, with his survival at stake.
The thunder rumbled hard. The clouds were clogging the sky like a haystack in the toilet. As the rain poured down, the lightning crashed through the sky onto the fragile ground. It was a terrifying time at Arlesdale's Western District.

It's hard to get a good drink here, since this place is far from the nearest sea. Rain happens at the peak of the winter, where no snow falls. Every year, raindrops crash onto the ground, creating harmless splashes of water. Seems like the townsfolk here are desperate for a drink, and they'll do anything to get it.

Justice is transparent here in the Western District's average and only town called Crippleshot. Here, there are only two rules: Live through any means necessary, or die of weakness and defeat. Yes sir, crime never rests here, for only the quickest minds can thrive here.

The youth never gets the proper education they need. Even they are forced to live in the malice and plunder of Crippleshot, reluctantly doing crimes themselves. This removes any if not, all chances of Crippleshot acquiring visitors for trade and reason.

A young robot child who goes by the name 'Tune' lives here in this diabolical disaster zone. His creators, or as he prefers to call them, parents, sold him to this dreaded town, just so they could live. With a discarded frying pan on his head to call his hat and feeding of the scraps of garbage discarded by the townsfolk, Tune would tend to find life here hard.

Even if he ran away, it wouldn't matter. He'd die before he even reach the next town. They would all salvage his lifeless body, and only God knows what they'll do with it. Despite this brutal laws here, Tune somehow finds living here a place he can enjoy.

As the rain continued pouring throughout the day, Tune could only try to find shelter. Nobody would care for a dusty young droid seeking a home and family, so all the little guy can do was pray. He'd pray that once the rainclouds clear, so will the path to his lost joy.

Water flooded the cracks in the ground, the sky once bright began to cry cold shivering drops of rain. And with a crash of lightning, the thunder roared hard with an entity of dark storm in the sky, watching Tune. All Tune could see was a black cloud of thunder shaped like a black dragon in the sky.

With another bolt, the dragon-like figure disappeared, and a beam of light pierced through the clouds. The rain had ended, but a miracle has awoken. At the end of the light, all Tune could see was a figure moving towards Crippleshot. "Could this be the clear path to the joy Tune had lost?" Tune wondered.

Tune strayed closer to the mysterious figure. As Tune got closer, so did the figure. It's as if, Tune and the figure were being drawn to each other. Once they finally saw each other face to face, Tune's eyes observed with amazement.

What Tune had seen was a horse. But this horse was unlike any horse Tune had seen before. It was coated in silver-plated armor and fitted with expensive brass horseshoes. It's rider however, was a different story.
Descending from the leather saddle, the rider approached Tune, slowly and peacefully.

Within the creak of Tune's gear, the mysterious rider was standing in front of Tune. His left blue eye observed Tune, with his hat covering his other eye. The rest of his body was enshrouded within his cloak, while his boots were helping him stand tall. He was about a tad bit taller then Tune, yet his mysterious aura was intimidating in Tune's perspective.

As intimidating as this mysterious rider was, he harboured no ill intentions. Tune didn't know this yet, so he simply and nervously backed away. While he did however, Tune had just stumbled and fell on his rear. His valve pipes released a terrified hiss, and the stranger kept observing.

To Tune's surprise, this strange rider helped him up. It was at this time the stranger began talking. With a rough, southern accent, the mysterious rider explained his name. "The name's Quickdraw, and my steed here's Axle", Quickdraw stated.

What was once Tune's terror turned into courage. With a big puff, Tune bravely replied his name. Tune felt glad in his perspective, as he had never introduced himself let alone anyone introduced themselves in his life. Asking Quickdraw why he was here, Quickdraw looked at him again.

"Why I'm here you say? It's just me followin my destiny. To be the fastest slinger in these parts. The wind told me.", Quickdraw replied. "Now where can I find Grease Sparkin? I'm thirsty." Quickdraw asked. Tune was indeed surprised. Nobody had ever ask for Grease Sparkin before, as its meant for machines.

Quickdraw just got on Axle. He could tell by looking at Tune's surprised expression that he didn't know. Quickdraw politely bid farewell to Tune, and head off to Crippleshot, continuing his search for Grease Sparkin. All Tune could do was watch.

"What am I thinking. An outsider can't just come here and demand a drink. He'll be finished before he even gets to the bar.", Tune worried as he chased after Quickdraw. His pistons pumped hard like the bubbling boiler of a steam train as he followed the thundering gallop of Axle.

Once Tune had entered the bar, it was a complete megalomania. A brawl had occurred within the bar with gunshots and drinks being thrown everywhere. Waiters and waitresses were even throwing shattered glass as weapons. One of those shards nearly hit Tune, had it not have been for his frying pan shielding him.

At the end of the bar, Quickdraw was calmly sitting down, drinking his long awaited Grease Sparkin. Axle was even there drinking the same thing, and he was even sitting on the chair. To Tune's surprise, both rider and horse were easily drinking the dense beverage, which would be impossible for organic citizens.

When things completely got out of hand, the bar suddenly went silent. No patron or worker made a sound. The town gang called the Re-Riders had arrived, and their leader Badude was already having an awful day. Seeing Quickdraw on his favourite seat made him even more ticked off.

Badude simply got to Quickdraw and told the young visitor that he was in his seat. Quickdraw just calmly continued drinking. This angered Badude even more, causing him to slap Quickdraw's Grease Sparkin out of his hand. Seeing the large spill of the drink he journied long for spread to the ground, Quickdraw had to do something.

As Quickdraw got up from his seat, 2 of Badude's men began to block his path. Seeing they both meant trouble, Quickdraw calmly and politely asked them to move. They didn't care, they just laughed. They laughed and laughed at Quickdraw.

On of the goons took a drink and as he drank it, he pulled out a small little pistol from his pocket. Now Quickdraw felt trouble, especially when the other goon took out his own pistol. Tune could only watch in worry for Quickdraw's safety.

While the goons aimed their pistols at Quickdraw, to everyone's shock, the two fierce members of the Re-Riders fell to the ground with holes in their shoulders. What hit them was answered when everybody looked at smoke coming out of a pistol. And the owner of that pistol was none other than Quickdraw himself.

Observing the young outlaw who shot his men, Badude could only sneer. No one knew his true expression behind the sunglasses he always wears, because they only made him look stoic. In truth, Badude was impressed with the little outlaw.

Tune however watched in amazement. From what he once thought was a man turned out to be a machine. Beneath Quickdraw's cloak, there was a belt of bullets wrapped around his body, and a belt with a gun holster attached. Quickdraw had thin, silver-plated limbs, and 3 bulbs running down his body like buttons on a shirt.

Glad that he was no longer the only machine in town, Tune attempted to approach Quickdraw. Though he wanted to express his amazement, his enthusiasm turned into fear as Badude's simple movement to Quickdraw intimidated the little droid.

Badude simply asked Quickdraw to join his gang of Re-Riders, given that this little robot was the fastest gunslinger he had ever seen. Quickdraw continued his observant attitude, then closed his eye, politely refusing to work with a team of amateur delinquents.

Now there had been an awful moment for Quickdraw. This young outlaw as oblivious to the fact that he inadvertently lit the spark of rage within the Re-Riders boss. Badude was ready to do some damage to Quickdraw, had it not have been for those present in the bar cheering for a standoff.

"7.00 sharp. At dusk, you and I sling at each other's hearts. Winner take all. Be there or suffer.", Badude rudely exclaimed. Quickdraw prepared to refuse the duel, but then he observed the terrified look on Tune, the little droid who welcomed him to Crippleshot.

Quickdraw had instantly flown into a pitch-white void. Seeing a shape at the end of the void forced Quickdraw to curiously investigate. What he saw was his mentor, to which everyone referred to as Recycle Warrior. Quickdraw sat next to his former teacher, as the first word that flew out of his robotic mouth was "Why?".

"Why was I here, why are you here?", Quickdraw asked his former mentor. "Why did I train you in the world of speed? Why did you want to be the fastest slinger ever?" Recycle added. Now Quickdraw was confused. What did his mentor mean?

All of a sudden, Quickdraw saw what was not an illusion, but rather a form. A smaller robot that resembled Quickdraw himself, but was younger and more eager to shoot targets thrown at him. Recycle just smiled at the smaller robot.

Recycle asked the little robot what he wanted to be. "The best slinger ever. One who can shoot faster than the wind, so I can be a little cow-bot that can save this world from all the bad guys. That's what I want to be.", the little bot said.

Seeing this little bot, Quickdraw smiled beneath his cloak. He remembered now, he left Recycle to follow the wind and be the greatest and fastest slinger ever. This white place made Quickdraw remember his past, the past he once regret.

He remembered the training he did with Recycle. It was harsh, it was tough, but he enjoyed it anyway. And so did Recycle, the one who Quickdraw claimed to be part of his family. They both were happy together, and Axle was Recycle's gift to Quickdraw.

But that joy ended once Quickdraw began his journey. Once he had left, the first day of Quickdraw's journey was the last of his joy. The news of his mentor had hit him quickly. Recycle was gone.

Riding back to his former home was a waste of effort. The home he and Axle once new was nothing but Ash and soot, and there was nothing left but Recycle's lifeless scrap-iron body. All Quickdraw could have done was mourn and shout in grief and regret.

Quickdraw learnt this was his choice. He made this promise to be brave and avenge those who are unable to defend themselves. He forgot this promise through his grief and guilt of leaving his own mentor, but that all became clear once he nearly refused a duel for a life.

"I see. You just want me to remember the promise I made. I guess I have more to learn before I join you in the ghost realm, master.", Quickdraw told his former mentor. Recycle just smiled, and with the little bot who was actually Quickdraw's past, they both disappeared into the wind.

What seemed like an hour of thought was merely a second back at the bar. That pitch-white void was just a memory. All of a sudden, Quickdraw's cool, observant nature disappeared as evidences when he told Badude, "Your on.". The duel was soon to begin.
© Copyright 2019 Chronojet (soularcher20 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2204775