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"Clear the floor first!" Arthur barked, kicking forward. Caleb swung right, his rifle already braced. The saloon like parlor ahead flickered with movement, a Raider half hidden behind an overturned table. Caleb didn't give him the chance to pop up. His rifle cracked once, the bullet splintering wood and bone alike.
The man crumpled backward, knocking a bottle of rotgut off the mantel in the process.
Another Raider rushed from the adjoining dining room, revolver firing wild. Caleb pivoted smoothly, shot once, and the man hit the floor so hard his revolver slid across the tiles toward Caleb's boots.
Arthur moved left, toward the kitchen. The metallic clang of a pan hitting the floor rang out, followed by a scream. He kicked the door in, found two more Raiders fumbling with rifles at the long wooden counter.
Arthur's rifle barked, two quick shots, precise as a surgeon's cuts. One Raider spun and fell into the ashes of a cold hearth, while the other toppled backward, smashing through a shelf of jars. Pickled vegetables and blood mixed into a sickly puddle across the tiles.
"Kitchen's clear!" Arthur shouted, voice echoing off the mildewed walls.
Caleb darted past the dining room table, sliding into cover near the hall that led deeper into the first floor. The door at the far end cracked open just as a Raider shoved his head out to check the noise.
Caleb fired before the man could even register him, the bullet blew through his forehead, spraying the wall behind him.
"Sadie would've enjoyed this," Caleb thought grimly, checking corners as he advanced.
He pushed into what had once been a gentleman's study, shelves of moldering books, a desk sagging under the weight of dust and damp.
A Raider sat crouched behind the desk, rifle trembling in his hands. He rose to fire, but Caleb shot through the wood, the bullet punching straight into his chest. The man gasped once before collapsing into the heap of ruined papers.
Arthur appeared in the doorway, wiping sweat from his brow. His hat was crooked, his shirt streaked with dust and someone else's blood. "That's the floor." He flicked his head toward the stairs. "But we ain't alone up there. Hear that?"
They both paused, listening.
The ceiling above trembled with the heavy tramp of boots. Shouts echoed through the upstairs hall, orders barked, curses spit. The Lemoyne Raiders knew exactly where they were now, and they were digging in.
Caleb drew a deep breath, the kind that steadied his hands when they wanted to shake. "Up we go. Same as before. We take it room by room. No heroics."
Arthur grunted, slinging his rifle around him and then took his revolver out. "Lead the way."
The staircase was a choke point, and they both knew it. The carpet was worn thin, the banister riddled with holes from old termites, but it still offered high ground for whoever held it.
Arthur crouched low at the base, peeking around. A bullet snapped down the stairwell, smashing into the plaster inches from his head. He yanked back.
"They got the whole damn landing covered!" Arthur hissed.
Caleb set his rifle on the banister, angled up. "Not for long." He exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The shot ripped through the dim landing, catching the nearest silhouette in the shoulder. The man howled, stumbling back, and Arthur took the moment to charge up the steps two at a time.
Gunfire erupted. Arthur dropped low halfway up, firing blind with his revolver, forcing the Raiders to duck. Caleb followed hard, the two of them crashing onto the landing in a storm of lead and splinters.
Arthur's revolver barked again, one Raider fell, clutching at his gut. Caleb swung his rifle to the left, blasting another in the chest as he tried to slam a door shut. The Raider flew backward into the room, dead before he hit the ground.
"Clear the sides first!" Caleb shouted over the gunfire.
Arthur nodded, kicking open the nearest door on the right. It was a bedroom, the bed sagging in the middle, wallpaper peeling like old skin. A Raider crouched by the window with a rifle leveled outside, likely aiming at Lenny in the yard. Arthur put a bullet through his skull before he even looked up, then ducked as another shot cracked from the closet.
He didn't hesitate. Arthur shoved the door wide and fired twice into the dark interior. A body collapsed among old coats, blood soaking into the dust.
"Room clear!" he yelled.
Caleb shoved into the opposite bedroom, rifle raised. The room stank of piss and mold. A Raider leapt at him from behind the door, knife flashing.
Caleb twisted, the blade grazing his sleeve, then smashed the butt of his rifle into the man's face. Bone crunched. Caleb fired once, point blank, and the Raider fell like a sack of stones.
Breath ragged, Caleb stepped back into the hall. "Clear."
Only the middle door remained. The heavy oak was shut tight, shadows moving under the crack. They could hear muffled voices inside, hurried and desperate.
Arthur reloaded, checked his rounds. "That's gotta be it. Office. Where they're keepin' it."
Caleb nodded, eyes cold. "Money's in there. I'd bet my life."
Arthur smirked faintly, grim and humorless. "You already are."
They flanked the door, rifles ready. Caleb mouthed a count. "One. Two. Three."
Arthur's boot smashed the door wide, and both men swept in at once.
The office was large, dominated by a cracked desk shoved against the far wall. Three Raiders crouched behind it, rifles aimed. One had already dragged a strongbox halfway onto the floor, its iron hinges glinting in the dim light.
Chaos exploded instantly. Arthur's revolver barked three times, Caleb's rifle roared in reply. Wood splintered, glass shattered. One Raider screamed as Arthur's bullet punched through his arm, dropping him to the floor. Another lunged over the desk, only to be cut down by Caleb's rifle, the impact throwing him backward like a rag doll.
The last Raider tried to flee, scrambling for the side door, but Arthur put a round in his back that dropped him mid-stride.
Silence fell heavy.
Only their breathing filled the room, harsh and ragged. Smoke curled around them, drifting out the shattered window.
Caleb lowered his rifle, stepping forward. The strongbox was heavy, iron bound, its lock crudely forced. Inside, stacks of banknotes and coins gleamed in the dim light.
Even couple of gold bars that only Caleb notice, as Arthur only took a glance before Caleb close it. Caleb immediately tries to have the gold bars entered into his inventory through the steel box and he saw in hisbsytem interface that it worked.
Arthur let out a low whistle. "Looks like you are right after all. Must be pretty big haul for us."
Caleb smirked, though his eyes were hard. "Told you. Now let's get it in the wagon before more of 'em come runnin'."
Arthur grabbed one handle, Caleb the other, and together they hefted the chest. It was heavy, every jolt promising wealth and danger in equal measure.
As they staggered back down the hall, Arthur cast Caleb a sidelong look. "Dutch is gonna like this. Maybe a little too much."
Caleb didn't answer. He was already thinking ahead, about Dutch's smile that never reached his eyes, about the way a haul like this would stir the man's hunger for more. About how quickly the gang could bleed themselves dry chasing after bigger and bloodier scores.
But that was for later. For now, they had to get out alive.
Down below, gunfire still cracked—the last of the Raiders trading shots with Lenny. Caleb and Arthur barreled down the stairs, strongbox between them, their boots pounding against the rotted carpet.
When they burst onto the porch, Lenny's revolver was still barking from behind the wagon, his face set in a grimace of determination. "Bout time you two showed up!" he yelled.
Arthur laughed breathlessly. "We got it, kid! Cover us!"
Together, they hauled the box down the porch steps, bullets whining past. Lenny kept firing, his shots sharp and true, cutting down the last few Raiders with fierce precision.
By the time Caleb and Arthur reached the wagon, the yard was littered with bodies, smoke rising in thin coils from rifles abandoned in the dirt.
They heaved the chest into the bed of the wagon, its weight thudding like a final note in a bloody song.
Arthur wiped sweat from his brow, panting. "Well. That's one hell of a haul."
Caleb glanced back at the sagging plantation, its windows black and hollow, its walls bleeding with bullet holes. "And one hell of a message. Shady Belle's ours now, least, if Dutch has the sense to see it."
Lenny joined them, face alight with pride despite the grime and blood on his cheeks. "Told you I could handle myself."
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, grinning despite the exhaustion. "You did good, Lenny. Damn good."
Caleb gave the boy a nod, something quieter but no less true. "You earned this, kid."
Lenny, hearing it, couldn't help but grin. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, sweat dripping down his forehead, but his eyes were bright, alive with the fire of a man who'd just walked through hell and found himself still standing.
"Thank you," he said, almost breathless, but with a weight behind it. He looked from Arthur to Caleb, eyes shining not with arrogance but with relief and pride. "Thank you, both of you. I know there were a couple close calls in there, hell, more than a couple, but I managed it. I proved it, to you two… and more importantly, to myself."
Arthur gave him a firm clap on the shoulder again, that rare, fatherly kind of warmth he reserved for moments like this. "Damn right you did, kid. You ain't green no more. You can handle yourself."
Caleb gave a nod that was quieter but every bit as grounding, the sort of recognition that Lenny craved.
Lenny's eyes drifted toward the chest sitting in the dirt where Caleb and Arthur had dropped it. Its iron edges gleamed dully in the fading afternoon light, stained by mud and blood. He nodded toward it, curiosity plain."So this is it, huh? The money these crazies were hidin'?"
Both Arthur and Caleb nodded. Caleb arched a brow, almost teasing. "Wanna see what they've been hoardin' all this time?"
Lenny's grin split wider. He nodded fast, excitement lighting him up. "Course I do. Hell yes."
Caleb knelt down, working the crude lock with a practiced flick. The lid groaned as it lifted, and the three of them leaned closer. Inside, stacks of worn but heavy dollar bills filled the chest, some bound in paper bands, others stuffed loose. Canvas coin sacks lay between them, their throats cinched tight, the dull shine of silver and gold glimmering through faint gaps.
Lenny let out a sharp laugh, the sound bubbling up like pure disbelief. "Boy, they got themselves a jackpot! I didn't expect the information I got to pay out like this. Must be thousands of dollars here, for the gang, and a couple hundred for each of us, easy, as our share."
Arthur barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked at the boy. There was satisfaction written clear across his face, pride swelling in him like an older brother seeing his sibling step into his own. "Ain't that somethin'? You done good, Lenny. Real good. Proud of you."
Caleb watched it all with a thin smile, then spoke up in his cool, measured way. "Money's good, but don't forget, we can squeeze more from this place. Look for the rifles these Raiders were hoarding. Loot the bodies too, take their rifles. If they've got crates stashed, we haul it all back. Hosea can sell 'em, fetch more cash for the camp."
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 6/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 3)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 3)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 3)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 2)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 2)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv 2)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
- Acting (Lvl 2)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 1,258 dollars and 48 cents
Inventory: 3,245 dollars, 7 gold nuggets, 8 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 large bags of jewelry, 4 gold rings, two silver rings, four silver pocket watches, a gold buckle, a gold pocket compass, a platinum pocket watch, and 2 Colm's Schofields
Bank: -