The door to the lowly wood hut opened slowly, revealing the silhouette of the Six-Gun, his hat and draped poncho distinct. Sitting within the hut was a beautiful young woman, brushing her blonde hair. Her skin appeared almost as paper, fair and perfect. Joe could admire this attention to one’s appearance.

  “It’s rude to open doors like that” The woman’s voice was soft and sweet, though Joe found its quality somewhat sour. “Especially at night when ladies are indisposed.”

  Joe said nothing, standing there in a Resolute state. He could feel the powerful, churning energy of the creature in front of him. Everything in this room seemed tainted by the foul energy, the magic around it was sick, diseased. Monsters like Skinwalkers did this to the world, they soiled and scarred it with their own energy. It did damage to all life, if left to fester on its own. Places where monsters roosted unhindered became cursed places, taboo to the natives of the land, where no man was permitted to enter. The home Joe had stepped into was grounds for a taboo.

  She smirked. “Oh, I know what you want.” She slipped her clothes down, revealing herself to him. “You want to take it. I understand, I can’t stop you. These are the times we live in. You might as well have it, sir.”

  “Cut the crap.” Joe finally spoke, eyes fixed on hers. His ocean blues gave off a low glow which could be seen through the shadow of his hat, the result of his Resolute state. He took a few steps sideways, pacing the room to tease out her bodily reaction to his changing position. His boots fell on the cheap wood floors with thick thunks.

  “I’m not buying that.”

  She let out a breath. “You Six-Guns never do. Those witches take care of you, don’t they?”

  Joe didn’t bite on her games. He was waiting for his Critical Moment. He knew shooting now wouldn’t work. The aim wasn’t there.

  “You’re a beautiful specimen.” The Skinwalker told him, standing from its chair. Still naked, it paced in the opposite direction to match his change of position. “You really are quite pretty, gunman. You know something?”

  Joe tilted his head a bit, eyes remaining fixed.

  The Skinwalker continued, “I hate beautiful things. I hate them.” Its voice became more agitated. “I see a pretty lady, a handsome child, even a nicely-colored flower, and I just want to tear them up! The pretty things on this earth deserve to be destroyed, it is the transitory nature of things.”

  Belting out a horrid cackling, the Skinwalker’s face began to vibrate and ripple, losing the integrity of the beautiful form it had taken. “Plenty of butt-ugly Six-Guns have met their end coming for me, from Topeka to Charlotte. Only now, in this filthy place, they send me a beautiful one. Someone I can take pleasure in ripping apart, limb from limb!”

  The Critical Moment came. The true core of a Six-Gun’s power came from the interpretation of Critical Moments. This was a point in time where the flow of magical energy aligned just right, to give the Six-Gun an indication of an event about to occur. As Resolve could read the flow of life energy through beings, it also read their intent. When a being had resolved to strike, decided to make a move, the signs were there in the flow of energy, In a Resolute state, the Six-Gun could interpret this energy as the Critical Moment. This, as Grady taught them, was the time to draw. If the Six-Gun adhered to the Critical Moment, trusted his Resolve, and pulled without hesitation, they could strike at just the right moment every time.

  Joe heard the dramatic clang of the Critical Moment in his mind, it came to him like the sound of metal striking more metal. He saw the Skinwalker’s intent slice through the flow of energy in the room. Like lightning he drew, right hand quick and true, and fired a shot. The revolvers brandished by Grady’s Posse were all hand-held cannons, the shot punched through the air with a resounding crack. Tornado Joe’s aim was deadly, his shot would have landed perfectly; but this Skinwalker had experience. It was able to bait the Critical Moment, anticipate the shot, and shift around it. Its body was now contorted beyond recognition as a human being, twirling around the shot. The wooden wall behind it tore open with the powerful .458 Comet round’s impact.

  The Skinwalker, its body now a stretched, twisting mess of flesh, reached forward and smashed into the startled Six-Gun. Tornado Joe flew through the wall. Splinters and chunks of wood burst forward, showering Joe as he lay in the dirt walkway outside. He grunted, waving his finger along the brim of his hat. This was a small hex that even normal humans could perform, it simply stuck the hat to his head. This was common practice among the Six-Guns and was purely image motivated. He didn’t think he would need to do so until now.

  The Skinwalker attempted to pounce, now in the form of a large panther-like monstrosity. Joe had interpreted the Critical Moment, finding the time to roll to the right and avoid it. With a massive swipe of an oversized paw, the Skinwalker took out a chunk of the shack wall next to it. People inside screamed and gasped, their wall now torn asunder. Joe, on the back foot, found another Critical Moment. He fired a shot at the Skinwalker, who once again shifted around it. Another crushing blow came too quickly for Joe to roll away from.

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  Ivy gasped, still watching from her perch. “He’s having trouble! We should help him!”

  “No!” Winona glared, “Just watch. You’re about to see Joe in action.”

  Tornado Joe felt the Critical Moment as another blow came his way. Without the time to evade this one, he decided it was time to show this vile Skinwalker what combat with a real Six-Gun truly felt like. He held up two fingers on his left hand, invoking the Rite of Release, and implemented his Resolve towards the technique passed down to him from Billy Baird.

  Three corners formed in his right pupil as it transformed from its natural round to a striking triangle. It took the shape of a delta letter, but this was only the outward symptom of his technique. In that moment he could see the margin between the kinetic energy of the paw coming at him and his own kinetic energy. The delta between the two became clear to him in this enhanced state of Resolve. He expended some of his resolve to alter the value of this delta, dramatically altering the speed of the blow. With a much slower speed and overall energy, he was able to duck away from it. Though, ducking from the blow increased his own kinetic energy, which was the reference point for the delta between his and the Skinwalker. With the delta unaltered further, his increase in energy increased the energy of the swing. The blow landed on another shack nearby, ripping open the wall.

  The Skinwalker gasped. “That… what the Hell? You should be dead!”

  Joe found his footing, quickly ejecting the two spent casings from his gun. He replaced them with a quick slap and swung the cylinder back into place. A long grin crept across his face, Joe’s jubilation mounting. He tilted his head, eyes wide.

  “You thought this would be easy for you, huh?” the delta in his right eye shone brightly in the night. “You are mistaken. Start praying to whatever creator you owe your life to. You don’t have very long left.”

  Winona smirked from atop the dwellings. The Eye of the Delta always affected Joe’s mood, making him run a little wild and speak dramatically. She enjoyed this change, the normally reserved and collected young man unraveled into an animalistic killer for just a moment.

  “What’s happened to Joe’s eye?” Asked Ivy, head cocked, “It looks strange.”

  “Resolve sorcery is reflected in the eyes.” Answered Winona eagerly, “That’s why they glow. Sometimes the pupil reflects the inner shape of their Resolve.”

  “The… shape?”

  “Don’t think about it too hard, sister. Their magic is weird. The icon in his eye is called an engram. While his spell is active, the engram shows up.”

  The Skinwalker whipped around, swinging its tail around to catch him off guard. Joe could see the delta a mile away and slowed the swing down enough for him to jump over it and cock his pistol. As he leapt he pulled the trigger. Another shot rang out with a thunderous crack, to yet again be evaded.

  Quickly, the Skinwalker tried to escape him. It shifted itself from the warped panther creature to a more natural panther, to gain some speed. Joe pounced, swiping his pistol back into its holster and tackling the panther. It roared and threw out its paw, forcing him off. Joe found his feet, keeping focus with his hand ready at his hip. Watching the panther move into a defensive posture, Joe’s mind raced thinking of a proper strategy. In a move that baffled the observing Ivy, he struck a match on his hat brim and lit up a cigarillo. The panther pounced on him, knocking him to the ground. Reserving his Resolve, he didn’t attempt to alter the kinetic energy at all. Instead, he drew all the smoke he could into his lungs and blew hard onto the panther. Howling and coughing, the Skinwalker withdrew. Its eyes and lungs were irritated by the smoke. With Tornado Joe knocked down, it had enough time to run.

  Joe picked himself up as he watched the Skinwalker try to escape. Ivy and Winona floated down to meet him.

  “Oh my god, are you hurt?” Ivy gasped.

  Winona checked him over as the Skinwalker ran towards the gate, out of their view. Joe gathered himself, catching his breath and exiting his Resolute state. With his spell released, the engram disappeared and his right eye returned to normal.

  “I’m fine.” He panted, “We are all good. This one is more experienced fighting Guns, but it’s ok. I got it on the defensive.”

  “The cigar was a good move.” Winona let off of him, “But how are you gonna find it now? It has to have found out it’s boxed in. All it has to do is hide and wait it out until the barrier collapses.”

  Joe pawed at the dust on his poncho, “Yeah, hiding is gonna be a problem for it now.”

  Winona looked to him, confusion on her face.

  He reached down and picked up his cigarillo, giving her that grin she loved so much.

  “It’s just tobacco and vanilla.”

  Tornado Joe checked his chambers, popping out the spent round. He slotted in a fresh one. “Nine wolfsbane bullets left.”

  “Think it’s enough? We can buy you time to prep some more!” Ivy piped up.

  “Stop trying to join in, little witch.” Joe flicked the pistol, the cylinder clapping into place. He swiped at it and listened to the healthy rattle of the oiled mechanism. “I’m going to take it down before I spend these next six. I have a plan to find it easy. Besides, you got some work to do.”

  His eyes shot over to Winona, who already understood. Joe started off towards the front of the shantytown, breathing through his nose.

  “I really don’t understand.” Ivy looked to her sister witch, “Vanilla doesn’t have any special properties. What’s he mean about us having work?”

  Winona snapped her fingers, summoning a jar full of fireflies, “Focus please. The Skinwalker has damaged the flow of energy here with its magic. We can’t see it unless we host a ritual, but the Guns can see it with their Resolve.”

  “Right, right, right! I’m so sorry, this is just all so much!” Ivy shot her a pathetic look.

  “You’re doing great, Ivy, really. But I don’t have time to explain everything during this fight. You will just have to keep up or sit it out. Fireflies, now!”

  Winona opened up the jar of bright green fireflies. She held out her hand, changing the color of their bioluminescence to the stark purple of the Green Coven magic. Ivy followed suit, as she had practiced in her studies. The fireflies spread out across the Hooverville.

  “What about the vanilla, sister?”

  Winona looked back to her, her mind searching for the answer. After a moment, she simply shrugged.

  “Beats me. He’s nuts.”