Bloodshot

VINCENT

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Vincent Casserly rode tediously upward the cliffside, overlooking the train tracks that stretched past the town of Corley. His black stallion, Ebony, came to a stop. Vincent was God now, waiting on his gang to do their work and succeed. For once, he wouldn't be engaging or using his cunning and strategy to help. They had to become skilled at this, the world was growing more dangerous for their kind everyday. Behind him, steps sounded closer, small steps, friendly steps. Bonnie. She was clad in riches, of course. An outlaw woman, barely just learned how to use a gun, but she had a wit about her the others sometimes lacked. Bonnie Dixon grew up in a rich estate, her family were boring and dull, they wouldn't help when Bonnie murdered the man she was supposed to marry... so she wasn't all the damsel. Vinnie enjoyed her company.

"Have they really earned your faith yet?" She questioned him on her orange and red horse, looking half a queen, and her accent making her sound like one too. A southern mistress. Vincent chuckled and caught the trail of trail smoke emerge fiercely from behind a family forest of trees. "Well, if I don't put my faith in them and their freedoms, I ain't any different from those who chase us away from towns and cities. They need to learn too. We all do. Even you, at some stage." His last sentence was stern and cold, just as a fog came to play. Bonnie approached further, standing beside him. "Mm. You said there'd be fog. How'd you know?" She asked, eyeing her surroundings and the breathless train came sprinting on the tracks. Vincent smiled and took his revolver from his holster, span it easily to fit nicely in his palm, then answer. "I always know." Bonnie said nothing, they both waited eagerly, yet silently.

It was the hooves of horses that made Vincent clutch his revolver, lawmen? Vincent's men? Or another posse? The figure of Jesse led the small group, emerging from the soldiers of trees, and then so did the train, like a long sword stabbing through a curtain. The game had began. So, Jesse Gryffon took the lead. The Gryffon siblings were a pair of Vincent ever saw one. Ada-Li, the younger sister, was a highly skilled assassin, never wearing colour apart from the brooches of her mother. Jesse, a skilled outlaw, though sometimes inclined to lose his head or make impulsive decisions, but his judgement calls and last minute saves made him more valuable than what this train might hold.

He wondered where the rest were, but quickly he noted the small speckles of dynamite on the tracks. A bit loud, fellows, he thought. Colt Rivera was bound to have came up with that, it was always explosions and firearms to him. Cunning only came to Colt when there was a bang. Not even the smartest man in New Whitestead could rig a place with dynamite better than Colt. The trains wheels came crying over them, but they were shut up with five small booms, smaller than usual but they did the job perfectly. Jesse kept the noise to a minimum, it seems.

Thunderous galloping sounded coming up the rails, Bonnie flinched to the direction to meet the goddamn dynamos of gunfire. Ada-Li, riding with grace, Pedro Díaz riding with fury, Marco Moreno riding with excitement and Levi Winters riding with concentration. They reached the dormant train easily, they managed to jump on pretty easily too, and their horses waited. A security guard emerged from one of the cabins, holding a shotgun that would do no good. Li no sooner grabbed a throwing knife from her belt, and released it into his eye through his brain, than he stepped outside the cabin. Like a cat, she power walked toward him and ripped it out of his socket, dodging the river of blood that nearly attacked her, and restlessly threw his body off the train. Bonnie gave a smirk, her horse jiggled slightly.

Marco ransacked the dead mans shotgun for ammo, quickly shoving them into the bag. Tensions were rising, they pushed through the train. Jesse went to the front of the train as Vincent always did anytime he joined in with robberies. The driver came out shouting, half in fear and the other in anger. But what Vincent didn't expect was the small man to whip out a revolver. Jesse relaxed his shoulders and seemed to sigh, though it was hard to tell from up here. Though, he could hear the driver laugh and gloat. That would do it, Vinnie thought. Jesse's arms knocked the revolver away with haste, then he brought the man forward and broke his arm. When he squealed, Jesse smashed his head with the back of his revolver, out cold, he was.