The Secretive Guest: Night 08

       Plenty of people ask for help, and some refuse it. I don’t think I ever asked to be saved before. If someone was willing to sacrifice themselves in order to protect me, would I let them go through with it?

       The young woman walked, with the sound of her steps bouncing off of the dimly-lit corridors. Suddenly, the hallway started to fade away, replaced by tightly-knit, wooden buildings set in a dusty land bathed in relentless sunlight. The young woman looked around, watching the hotel completely disappear, leaving her in a scorching, small town. She glanced down at her feet, which shyly shuffled in the hot sand, and her body language indicated complete unfamiliarity to the terrain.
       “Hey you!” a hoarse voice growled nearby. The young woman turned to see a figure in a dark suit with matching black gloves. A pair of horse-like ears stuck out from under the wide-brim of his round hat, the shadow of which obscured his face. Only his soulless, unblinking eyes could be seen. He stepped forward, with the pair of trumpet-shaped pistols clinking against his belt, as he went on, “No one’s allowed out at this hour. In case you forgot, missy, I’m in charge of this town. I decide who lives or dies!”
       His voice dropped to a low tone as one of his hands edged towards the handle of his pistol, “And I know just how to keep this from happening again…”
       “Hold eet right there, hombre!” a new voice piped up.
       The two looked over. The young woman was taken aback at the sight of a human-like creature, with green skin covered with rows of thin spines. He wore a large and round straw hat, a sash of bullets and a patterned shirt ridden with bullet holes. He had a pair of dark sideburns with a curling mustache large enough to cover his mouth. His half-closed, red-ish gaze looked back at her. With a wink, he assured her huskily in an accent she couldn‘t recognize, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you, senorita.”
       The plant-like being turned his attention back to the horse-eared creature, who leered at the former. He growled, “You’ve got guts for an idiot.”
       “So you say, but I got speed on my side.” The plant creature put a foot forward, turning slightly, and lifted his tattered shirt to reveal the trumpet-shaped pistol on his belt as he challenged, “The clock’s about to strike high noon, hombre! You either walk ‘teel you’re gone or get ready to draw.”
       The horse creature scoffed, “Let’s see how fast you are when I blow that hand of yours off before you even touch your pistol.”
       The pair then went quiet, eyes locked. Ten paces apart, and they didn’t budge from where they stood. Hands hovered over their gun handles. The sun bore down like an overeager spectator. The dry wind passed, carrying slivers of sand, and a ball of dried up plants tumbled past. A clock tower nearby ticked away, beat by beat, edging closer to high noon. They were still as statues.
       “What will you do, my dear?” Gregory asked in his oily tone. The young woman turned to unexpectedly see the old mouse beside her, as he was dressed in the black clothing of an undertaker. With a sly smile, he looked over at her with one of his outward eyes and went on, “Will you let him endanger himself for you or will you try to stop him?”
       The young woman didn’t respond. She looked back at the pair.
       The plant-like man then spoke, not moving his gaze as he proclaimed, “For too long, you’ve been torturing the reseedents around here, trying to break their spireets. You gotta understand that you’ve got no real power here! And I’m gonna shoot you down!”
       His words echoed through the dusty air. The ticking of the large clock steadily got louder and louder. The wind receded, as if one were drawing a breath. Everything went still. The young woman stayed where she was. There was a dull thud as the large hand of the clock clicked into place. It was followed by the gong of the clock bell, rattling the air.
       Like a bolt of lightning, the plant-like gunslinger drew his pistol and fired.
       The horse-like gunslinger froze, eyes wide. He was thrown into shock by the fact that he hadn’t even touched his pistol yet, but he didn’t have a scratch on him.
       Meanwhile, the young woman glanced around until she noticed Gregory swaying. There was a gaping hole in his hat, which oozed blood, and he groaned, “Oh…I see…”
       Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Gregory fell backwards. The sound of a gun being drawn yanked her attention back to the street; the horse-like gunslinger took the chance to draw his own pistol, pointing it at the plant-like man.
       A lasso suddenly wrapped around the horse creature, pinning his arms to his side. Nearby, holding the other end of the rope, there was another plant-like being, but this one was a younger girl; under her large, straw hat were a pair of long, green braids; she wore a red neckerchief with a cow print vest over a blue dress; dark green cheeks and a cluster of green freckles framed her unsmiling lips. With a tug of the lasso, the horse-like creature was yanked off his feet and face-first onto the ground, disturbing a cloud of sand. His pistol clattered off to the side.
       “Little seester!” The plant being called out in surprise, “What are you doing?”
       She looked to him and responded, “I couldn’t let him hurt you, big brother.”
       “Aye-ye-ye.” He sighed, “You shouldn’t worry about me like thees.”
       “But, big brother, I knew you would miss your mark! You always do!”
       All the while, to the young woman, the plant-like gunslinger started to resemble a young man with short and dark hair, wearing a white and brown uniform similar to her own, but the jacket had a symbol of a pair of crossed blades. Broad, metal boxes were strapped to his sides, with mechanical pieces and wires connecting it to the handles of the blades he held. Meanwhile, the plant-like girl seemed to look like a young woman with silky, black hair cut short, wearing the same gear and uniform but with a red scarf wrapped around her neck. The dark-haired girl dotted over the young man as he embarrassedly tried brushing her off. His large, glistening eyes turned to the on-looker.
       “Senorita,” called the young man in the plant-like creature’s distinctive accent, shattering the memory’s illusion. The young woman was back in the dry, sun-dominated town, facing the plant gunslinger and his younger sister. He tipped his hat and stated, “I wish you many happy days!”
       With that, the pair of plant-like beings walked off towards the horizon bathed in a setting sun. The young woman watched them go until she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise, it was Gregory, still with a hole through his head but back in his usual attire, and he held a trumpet-shaped rifle in his hands. He scurried after the unconcerned pair, angrily screeching while firing off rounds, “You damned cacti! You always cause me so much grief! And you always shoot me in the head! You weren’t even aiming for me, you sorry excuse for a shot! Get back here!”