The town seemed to grow quiet as the streets were empty. The wind gave a slight wisp, picking up dirt and moving it along. The sky was filled with a mix of gray and blue, with the sun peaking out from behind the clouds every now and then. In this silence, stood two men, facing each other down. One man wore a large black trench coat, its tails slightly rolling with the wind, and standing 20 yards from the other man. The other man wore a red trench coat, very distinctive, and had a more dapper appearance than the man in the black coat. Neither man let anything around them bother each other, as they faced one another down. 

The man in the black trench coat was Cyrus Pendleton. He was a very stone faced man for the time being and was not in any mood to deal with small talk. The more stylish gentleman went by the name of Westbrook. He was a bandit, famed for having served under William Tecumseh Sherman during the war before his criminal days. The man had turned into a vile man during the war, having committed all sorts of nefarious deeds, usually pillaging homes and killing residents. The man seemed to enjoy killing the most.

Westbrook was wanted for the murders of a town judge, a town sheriff, and one deputy. He was suspected of many more, but there were witnesses to these particular murders, so the man had finally made the wanted posters. 

Both Cyrus Pendleton and Westbrook were relics of an era long past, both having taken different paths after the war. Cyrus had settled for a path that sat better with the eye of the law. Westbrook had found pleasure in being a psychotic killer. Quite the difference, but had to be dealt with swiftly by the law. Cyrus was going to take the man in.

"You fought in the war, didn't you?" Westbrook said, in question to Cyrus. Cyrus didn't break face, but merely stared him down. "Ahh, you did. Blue coat or gray coat?" Westbrook smiled in some kind of deranged amusement. Cyrus gave him silence for a little, before answering with the simple action of pulling his coat back, revealing the handle of his pistol.

Westbrook answered him by throwing his head back and cackling. He recovered to a more serious position and followed Cyrus's example, uncovering his own pistol, a Smith and Wesson Model 3. It was a more elegant looking pistol and more richly designed, even having carvings in the handles. Cyrus had a more beaten pistol, having years of use and replaced parts, with handles made of oak.

The two men were polar opposites and they were about to see who would win out over the other. It didn't matter to Cyrus if he lost this draw, as he had nothing much left to live for. All he ever did was concentrate on getting the shot off as quick as possible, and he always managed to survive. 

Westbrook grinned and said "I'll flip a coin into the air, and before it hits the ground, we'll shoot each other." He took out a coin and positioned both hands, ready to draw and flip the coin. He leaned forward slightly, ready to let loose a shot as soon as he drew. His demeanor was not particularly affecting Cyrus, as he had met far more sadistic men, and they all had died the same way. This man was no different.

Westrbook flipped the coin into the air and drew. It all went by in a flash, as Westbrook grinned aiming the weapon in the small time he had to draw. His excitement was undermined when he felt burning pain sinking into his chest and heard the gunshot about half a second after feeling the bullet. He reeled back and clasped his chest, looking down in bewilderment. He seemed to start sucking air and wasn't able to talk, as his lung had been pierced and it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his fate. He lifted his gun, looking to Cyrus with anger on his face, and aimed it at Cyrus.

He only received two more bullets before his legs gave out from underneath him and death took him. Cyrus waited a moment as the smoke cleared from the scene, revealing the winner of the duel. Now, all that was left was to turn the body in. He had been dealt with swiftly, and Cyrus would receive his just reward for the kill.

Cyrus walked over to the corpse and lifted his head, finding that the man was still very recognizable. He looked around, to see if everything had went back to normal and saw that everything had been going along normally, just in a safer area. This particular area of the street had been clear until the last shots had been fired. With that, Cyrus picked the corpse up and slung it over his shoulder. He started to walk slowly towards the sheriff's office, down the street, as people bustled along on business. Some would stop and stare as Cyrus maintained pace, keeping his eyes focused on his destination.

He strode up to the office, stepping onto the porch with the poster in his hand, still holding onto the corpse. He plopped the body on the porch and knocked on the door, pulling out the wanted poster. A middle aged deputy popped out and greeted him, giving him a "What?" followed by a grunt in acknowledgement. The deputy turned back into the office and asked the sheriff to come out. The man greeted Cyrus at the door, giving him a hearty "Hello" and then having his attention diverted towards the dead body. "Oh, uh, he's that guy Westbrook, yes?" His question was answered by a simple waving of the poster in front of his face by Cyrus, "Ah, yes. Of course."

The lawman stepped out and inspected the corpse. "Looks like you did a little over kill on this one." He motioned to the three bullet wounds in the man, all placed in his chest. "His time needed to end." Cyrus said. "Where do I collect the reward?" 

The sheriff scratched his head, "Hold on a second." He walked back inside, giving a little time for Cyrus to stand around awkwardly and see that he was gathering a good amount of attention. The sheriff finally came back out, with a special slip of paper only given to those collecting reward money. "Just go to Rapid City. The note says where to collect." Cyrus looked down and grumbled. 

"What's your name?" The sheriff said. "Cyrus Pendleton." Came his reply. The sheriff disappeared back into his office and took a good long time before finally rejoining him with a sealed envelope in hand. "This will make sure you get your reward." Cyrus nodded in acknowledgement and took the letter from him.

It was too much work for the reward money, but he might pass through Rapid City sometime soon and cash it in. As for now, he needed to get money to go to Rapid City. He slipped the envelope and the paper slip in his pocket and stepped away from the office, walking off down the street towards where he left his horse. 

He raised his hand, and waved, his back still turned towards the office. "Pleasure doing business with you!" Cyrus said, giving his final goodbye to the sheriff as he went along with his business. Now, as long as he didn't run into anymore demons from the old war, he might have a peaceful stay in town.

Cyrus settled on going back to the saloon, probably end up sleeping in his room for the rest of the day. He hadn't much on the agenda, just a little drinking, and maybe some entertainment. Just a simple peaceful evening.