Live by the Gun, Die by the Gun

by NotanImportantPony

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Sunset Shimmer, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Other, Thriller, Original Character
Length: 1118

She was a legend, her heists were feats of magic, her ferocity was unmatched. The wild west had never seen anyone like her before but before long everyone knew her by name; Sunset Shimmer: The fastest gun in the west.

The fiery haired demon was a legend, her heists were supposedly feats of magic, her ferocity was unmatched and because of that her reputation spread like wildfire. The wild west had never seen anyone like her before but before long everyone knew her by name; Sunset Shimmer: The fastest gun in the west.

Published 2016-10-21 04:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-10-21 04:50:01 UTC

Chapter 1

Live by the Gun, Die by the Gun

By: NotanImportantPony

Dodge Junction, the loneliest town in the Middle of Nowhere, Equestria. It was a dusty little thing, barely a speck on the nationwide map. Many of its wooden buildings had slumped over from age and disrepair, in fact during some severe storms many of the outlying shacks had collapsed into a pile rubble and dried lumber. The town’s residents were disheartened and drunk most of the time. Few of them knew about the town’s past and even fewer remembered the time when Dodge Junction was alive and bustling with caravans coming and going day in and day out.

Dodge Junction used to be a small out of the way town in the south-western part of Equestria. Then the railroads came through, with the arrival of those metal behemoths came a flood of wealth. Money and status was suddenly at the forefront of everyone's minds, how would they be able to make more and more money to garner greater and greater influence? Unfortunately that little economic boom came to a screeching halt when news reached the town that a better path had been made. That news was quickly followed by a slow and steady squeeze. Slowly but surely those poor people of Dodge Junction had their money wrung from every pocket or safe. Those that were smart left with the outgoing trains but pretty soon there were few caravans and no trains.

One of the last caravans seeking to escape from the confines of that destitute little town was a small six wagon caravan loaded down with supplies and people who wanted to make their way south into unexplored territory. They left with the rising of the sun. Out of the little town of Dodge Junction trundled six wagons, each was pulled by a number of farm animals. Ponies, horses, or donkeys, it didn’t matter; so long as the animal could pull a plow it could pull a wagon. There was no fanfare, there was no activity to celebrate the brave adventurers like in the golden days. Instead the only accompaniment was the creaking of leather harnesses and wheels as well as the harsh breath of the farm animals.

The caravan continued out of the town and by the time they were a couple of miles from Dodge Junction any semblance of civilization had vanished. The only sound then was the huffing of labouring animals and the buzz of cicadas as they chittered. The caravan made very good progress on the first day, in fact they exceeded their set distance goals. As such they bedded down early for that night. The wagons rounded up and guards were posted to keep watch. The role was mostly cautionary as no major threats had ever been reported, the largest one had been a herd of stampeding buffalo a year back but that was inconsequential. As the sun set over the caravan camp the evening activities began.

Fires were lit, pots were filled with water to boil and vegetables or meat was chopped for that night’s stew. All throughout that time the sound of cicadas echoed across the barren wastes. As the meals were prepared and the adults went about their business the children occupied themselves, the older ones helped their parents, the younger one’s created games or played with some of the pack animals. There were a scant few who gathered around an old man sitting on a rotted log which leaned up against a little red wagon, he tried eating his dinner out of a red stained clay bowl but between bouncing two kids onto his knees and holding them on with his hands there was really no time for him to eat.

With the two kids bouncing up and down while giggling the old man whispered to them tales of lands far away, of cities whose streets were paved with gold and whose people were kings or queens. All too soon he was interrupted by one of the older boys.

“Hey Mister, you got a story tonight?”

The cloaked man slowly shook his head.

“I’m afraid not Rough, this old man has had enough excitement for one night.”

The two children on his knees stopped bouncing and “aww’d” in disappointment.

“Mister?” The old man looked down at the young boy whom had poked him on the shoulder.

“Yes Diamond?”

“Can you please tell us a story?” He hesitated, then turned to look at the small crowd of assembled kids, he couldn’t leave them without a story for the first night on the caravan trail. Huffing he scooped both kids up off his knees then placed them on the ground in front of him.

“Well… okay.”

Thinking about what story he would tell, his gloved hand rubbing his chin in careful concentration. Then after a moment of that he brought his hand down onto Diamond’s head messing with the young boy’s black hair. The kids cheered and several of them shot off into other wagons to get their parents with shouts of, “Story time! Everyone gather around!”

The chaos of the younglings lasted until everyone was gathered around their favourite storyteller. Shaking his head he looked out at the gathering of faces before him.

“I remember what it was like to have the energy of youth. You kids remind me of my younger days.”

Several of the older people laughed and agreed.

“You don’t look a day over fifty!” Interrupted one young teen with a head of fiery red hair.

“Hah.” The old man scoffed. “I don’t look a day over fifty eh? That’s a nice complement kiddo and I wish it were true. But all of you want to here a story right? Not just some old man blithering on.”

The assembled people conveyed their approval with some muted shouts of “Yes” and “uh-huh.” Leaning against his little red wagon the old man took a deep breath then began his story.

“Alrighty then, I’ll tell you all a story. I’ll tell you a tale about a fiery haired demon. Some of you older folks might remember her as a legend. Her heists were supposedly feats of magic, vaults emptied without anyone noticing, bars wiped clean of their booze, and if anyone tried to fight her, well, our heroine’s ferocity was unmatched so few lived to tell tales about the ‘she-demon’. Because of those stories and other rumors her reputation spread like wildfire. The wild west had never seen anyone like her before but before long everyone knew her by name; Sunset Shimmer: The fastest gun in the west.”

Author's Note

20/31. Urhhg I need to sleep more. I hope you enjoyed the prologue thingy.:facehoof: