Chapter Fifteen: Alliance

Charlie sat by the gravestone, hugging
his knees. Woof sat sadly beside his master, head bowed low.

He was devastated. If only he hadn't
had the idea to go running around fighting crime in the first place,
none of this would have happened. Of course, it didn't help that one
of Grandpa Tims last suggestions had been to go out and save the day.
Why did he listen to his Grandpa Tim? Why did he listen to the
Begly blood in his veins, telling him that he was invincible and that
nothing could stop him?
But you couldn't blame Grandpa Tim for
this. Grandpa Charles had always followed Grandpa Tim, had always
wanted to be like Grandpa Tim. Always wanted to be BETTER than
Grandpa Tim. It had gotten him killed. A senseless, pointless death
that proved nothing.
Grandpa Charles had been at war. He
had so badly wanted the Howzat blood in Charles to win out against
the Begly blood. To rebel against the Code and the Clause. As much
as Grandpa Charles loved Grandpa Tim, he envied and hated him.
Charlie heard a noise and looked up.
Joe Masters stood next to him, looking old and sad.
“I couldn't save him. Not this
time.” He sighed sadly, tears falling from his eyes. “They were
my brothers, and I was supposed to look out for them.”
Charlie could see even clearer now. It
wasn't Tims approval that Charles was after – it was Joes. The big
brother. The other vital ingredient in the Improbability Clause. The
smart, strong one who always kept them out of trouble.
Charles had been jealous of the
centuries old friendship between the two families.
“It wasn't your fault.” Charlie
“I know. But it will live with me
forever.” Joe looked up to the cloudy sky above. The sudden crack
of thunder barely registered in his psyche, but he knew it meant it
was time to go home.
“Come on Charlie. We need to go.”
He held out his hand to help the boy up.
“Oh Charles.” The old man thought
as he looked back on his best friends grave one last time. “You
meant just as much to me as Tim did.
“You were my brother too.”
That night, while the Masters and Begly
families, along with their friends, celebrated the life of Charles
Howzat, Master Revolver was stalking the streets of Pleasantville.
The empty alleyway was dark and
foreboding. Master Revolver smirked as he walked down it. Pulling
his pistol from his belt, he fired into a dark corner. A loud “TINK”
reverberated throughout the air, and the gunman grinned.
“So you ARE here. Glad you could
make it.” He sneered.
“Of course I'm here, I've been on
pins and needles just salivating for your arrival.” A sarcastic
female voice replied.
“Oh I bet you have.” Master
Revolver leered. Mobster Marion might have been the leader of his
most hated rivals, but she certainly was attractive!
Within a split second he found a sword
at his throat. It was no where near as long nor as intimidating as
the Lions Claw Blade, but it was at least sharp enough to tear out
his throat.
“Don't you dare mock me gunslinger.”
Mobster Marion warned. “Or I will kill you.”
“What, after you sent one of your
helicopters to rescue me? I was very touched by the way.” Master
Revolver shrugged the blade off. “Not as fine as what you're used
to wielding is it?”
“Neither is that little pistol you're
waving around.” Mobster Marion glared at the pathetic little gun in
the Gangsters hand. “However, it will make cutting you down all
the easier.”
“Heh heh heh…you're on.” Master
Revolver fired his gun, barely missing the Mobster who dodged
quickly. She retaliated with a quick jab of the sword, nicking
Master Revolvers coat but leaving him relatively unscathed.
Master Revolver fired again, twice.
The first bullet missed, but the second one nicked Mobster Marions
hand. Enraged, Mobster Marion slashed upwards, leaving a nasty cut
on Master Revolvers chest.
Both of them glared at each other. It
was on.
Mobster Marion retreated again to the
shadows. Master Revolver fumed. Even if he DID retreat to the
shadows as well, the gun going off would alert her to his presence.
Instead, he dropped to one knee.
“Giving up already? I'll make this
quick then.” Mobster Marion thought. She jumped down from the
dumpster she'd been standing on, and landed right on Master Revolvers
The wind flew out of her as his fist
sunk deeper into her stomach. He pointed the gun at her head, and
was about to pull the trigger when the butt of her sword smacked him
hard in the side of the head. They separated, both regaining their
“Not bad gunslinger.” Mobster
Marion spat, trying to catch her breath.
“You're pretty sharp yourself swords
woman.” Master Revolver replied, clutching his sore head. Mobster
Marion traced his hulking frame with her eyes, watching his powerful
muscles tense and relax.
Both of them look up a fighting stance
again. Their eyes locked, the tension rising.
Master Revolver started firing again,
each bullet being dodged with ease. Mobster Marion easy got up close
and swung her sword, narrowly missing Master Revolver.
Their faces were close. They could
taste each others breath. Master Revolver caught her lips with his
as she pushed up against him.
“So.” Mobster Marion traced the
hairs on Master Revolvers chest two hours later in her bedroom.
“I think we have a deal.” Master
Revolver cupped his hand around her face. “Together we'll fix
those Knights.”
“And we'll get back the Lucky Seven
Gun and the Lions Claw Blade.”
“No wonder I've always liked you.”
“Everyone likes me.”
“So arrogant.”
“I have a right to be.”
Another kiss sealed the deal. The Death
Valley Gang and the Mobsters of Misneach were no more. A far worse
threat had been born of the union of the two most despised groups in
the city.
Pleasantville now had to deal with the
Death Valley Mobsters.

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