Dark Days of Crackshot

It was the day before the job and I was at the Coltsdale depot. I sat lounging in a chair, hat pulled low and chewing a piece of straw. Over the past few days I had watched the station carefully. I knew making the shot would be no problem, my concern lay in knowing exactly where the target would be. I monitored the ebb and flow of the ponies boarding and disembarking. I built a map in my head of the most likely places that he would appear.

The first class coaches, where my target would be, were the only two cars to unload directly onto the depot boardwalk, consequently, this gave me the briefest amount of time available to locate him and take the shot. I pondered this a moment, chewing my straw. From what I knew, this would be totally unexpected. No guards. No sense of urgency. A cakewalk. Things rarely turned out this way, I'd have to be ready. Dan and his crew would board the train a few towns down and Brawn and the grab team would be waiting in one of the warehouses.

Up to this point, I had purposefully ignored the required presence of my other two team members. I simply decided to have them wait in the station "in case I missed", which we all knew that wouldn't happen.

With a heavy sigh, I spat out my straw, and rose from my seat. Scattershot and Windfall, the final third of our pegasus team, would be arriving at the hotel any minute now. I watched the ponyfolk as I ambled down the street. I felt odd, I could feel a knot in my throat and a pit in my stomach. It was strange to me. I surveyed the sleepy town from where I stood in the street. Ponies busy but not rushed. Clothing drab but not poor. I wanted to freeze that moment in time, because I knew that tomorrow it would be shattered. I was a sharpshooter, a murderer, undoubtedly. Dueling laws allowed for gunslinging, but what I did was cold blooded and ruthless, with no chance of the target defending themselves. It had never bothered me before, so why did it now?

I broke from my reverie and finished the short walk to the hotel where I took a seat at a table in the dining room. Brooding over my earlier thoughts, I ordered my meal. It was interrupted by the invasive tones of my brother's voice. The walnut brown pony walked in, though relatively small, he managed to fill the space with his presence. He was dressed as gaudy as usual, a crimson Stetson sat cocked back on his jet black mane and a matching vest laden with shotshells hung loosely over his shoulders. What irritated me the most was the fact that he wore the exact shade of red as my own coat, which I hated. Windfall followed close behind. As flamboyant Scattershot was, she was reserved. A subdued shade of white with sky blue mane, she was easily the best looking filly in the Dirtfoot crew, and equally lethal with her affinity for knives.

The pair joined me at my table, Windfall sat quietly as Scattershot made a comment on the waitress' flank while simultaneously trying to steal the roll from my plate.

"Fuck off," I snapped stabbing at his hoof with a fork.

He chortled loudly, "Hello to you to bro!" He looked around, "What a pansy ass little shit hole this place is. Be glad when the job is over."

Windfall looked up, "Do be quiet about it Scat, we don't need to raise any suspicions," she sniffed.

"It'll be fine Windy, Big Daddy Scatty has it all under control," he leaned in close to her.

"I have complete faith in you," she simpered and reached up a hoof, stroking a hoof across his cheek. A thin trail of blood followed its path. I smiled to myself as Scattershot jerked back in surprize. I had tried my luck with Windy once, and learned quickly better.

"Bitch," he muttered, wiping the blood away, they returned their collective attention to me.

"So what's the plan bro?" He asked leaning back in his chair, "gonna storm in and get 'im?"

Appetite lost, I too leaned back in my chair, "And when have I ever come up with a plan like that?" I pulled a cigar from my vest and lit it, taking a long draw. I exhaled slowly, "I have my perch selected and I will take the shot, you two will be waiting in the depot as cleanup crew. As soon as the target is down, I want you to pull the bullet. Whether he's dead or alive. The slug will be laced with a venom that will kill him regardless."

Scattershot leapt to his feet, outraged, "Cleanup crew! You could have chosen any pair of pissants to do your dirty work!" Heads turned and the chatter in the room died down.

"Let's take this outside," Windy wisely suggested. I nodded and crushed out my cigar.

We stepped outside and took to the skies where we evicted a few foals from the only spit of cloud around. Scattershot was still fuming, but he knew that I was in charge and that he had to obey. Meeting over, we went our separate ways. As I circled over the town a moment before landing, I felt again the pang in my stomach and I realized what it was, regret. And I didn't know what to do about it.

I landed in front of the general store and walked in. As I was inspecting their selection of hard candies, an old mare came up beside me.

"Watcha lookin' for sonny?" She asked in a wavering voice.

"Nohin in particular ma'am," I responded.

"My grandcolt is coming for a visit tomorrow an he's always been partial to apple sours," she said, filling a bag of the aforementioned candies. She filled a second smaller bag, "Why don't you try some for yourself?" She pushed the second bag into my hooves. "Though between you, me and the fence post you look like you could do with a little less sour," She whispered quite loudly. She paid for her order including the bag she gave me and left the store. I left a moment later.

As I made the short walk back to the hotel, I popped on of the apple sours in my mouth. My cheeks puckered instantly, they were certainly sour.