“I am Isaac Newgate, the Rounin of Redrock. And that shall be the last name you ever hear!” 

Isaac said as he charged at Chester, his metal blade high in hand. Chester stepped backwards, the blade sweeped down, before Chester could counter attack, the blade swung back up, missing him by less than an inch. Blow after blow swept in from Isaac towards the pirate – blow after blow missed Cehster ever so narrowly. When he saw his opportunity, the pirate struck, time and time again, each time the attack was deflected by Isaac. 

The swordsman struck Chester in the face with his fist, following it up with a backhand sweep with his weapon, Chester reeled back from the attack, and dodged, he kicked at Isaac, whom parried. As Chester was coming back to the ground, Isaac grabbed him by the leg, throwing him into the ground. Chester recovered, bouncing off the ground by pushing himself with his right arm.

Isaac came from the side, his blade swinging, hitting Chester in the chester, up into his shoulder, sending him skidding on the ground, a trail of blood behind him as his face slid on the floor. Isaac took his stance. “You're done. You can't fight with those wounds.” Isaac told him, as Chester put his knucckles to the floor, and pushed himself off the ground in one sweeping motion, with enough force to send him into the air, with a spinning flip, he landed behind Isaac.

“I was once the most powerful swordsman in ten kingdoms. Everywhere I roamed, I would prove myself. A free spirited warrior, a swordsman with no master – a rounin. A warrior of glory, not of money. As powerful as a samurai and respected as a hero.” Isaac told Chester as he twirled the sword in his hand ,as if he was playing with the blade – getting used to having the metal in his hand. “But I left that behind. The rounin life wasn't for me anymore. I was blamed for the massacre at Redrock City, and in a way, I was. That's when I started drinking. And soon, I was not much of a swordsman anymore. Or much of a person. The alcohol a way to swallow my sorrows and move on. I'm sure you can relate.”

Chester shook his head. “No. I can't.” Isaac looked at him with a peered eyebrow. “We've got nothing in common. You're a shit drinker. You're a shit thug, and you're even a shitty swordsman, even with your real sword.” The pirate told him coldly. Isaac grinned. “Harsh words for the guy bleeding all over the floor.”

“It's nothing more than a scratch.”

“Blood is literally leaking out of your shoulder. Can you even move your arm?”

“My arm's fine. Worry more about yourself!” Chester said as he charged Isaac. He pulled back his fist, and hit him in a spear-like motion. [b]Vibro Fist; Echo[/b]  His fist collided with Isaac's blade, the vibrations being sent into the ground and into Isaac, as he grunted. [I] what the hell is this attack[/i] Isaac thought.

Isaac felt himself getting weaker. He had to finish this quickly. He fought Chester off, getting a little distace between him. Chester charged him, and Isaac charged back. [b]Whiskey Shot[/b], his fist vibrating forcefully. 

[b]Sonic Blade[/b] The swordsman's blade moved with blinding speed, appearing like a white bolt of lightning through the sky as Chester passed him by, his vibrating fist missing him as the blade collided with the pirate. Chester collapsed onto the floor again, making another trail of blood before him. 


----



With the safe burning up, the gunner realized what was in store for him. His hands were already going numb, his eye hurt and he felt exhausted, already running a fever.

He stopped holding back. He aimed his rifle and held it against his shoulder. He squeezed the trigger once. He reloaded the bolt action weapon quickly, firing again, and again. Each bullet aimed at one of Macario's limbs, each of them fired with deadly force and equally as deadly aim. The gunner knew he was going to die - and he wasn't going down alone. 

Macario had shielded himself, but these bullets had far more weight to them, each of them driving into his body. This time he fell, landing back against some crates. "Okay, you can try when you want to."

Leaning back, another gunshot rang out, the empty shell hit the floor as the bullet collided with Macario's shoulder, the some one Kuhn had already clipped with his pistol. The bullet from his rifle pierced Macario's shoulder from a new angle, hitting the thorn bullet from an angle that forced both of the bullets out of Macario's body, effectively saving him from potentially losing his arm. 

But it did hurt like a son of a bitch.

Kuhn walked towards his downed target. Picking up his hat as he did, placing it firmly on top of his head. His shotgun in hand. Each step was heavy. It was hard to walk. It was harder to aim. Hell, it was hard to breath. His shotgun was aimed at Macario's face. "Th.. That' enough of 'real bullets' for you, hotshot" Kuhn taunted. Panting as sweat ran down his face, his ginger hair had turned messy and was sticking to his face. Blood dripping slowly from his nose. 

Breathing heavily, hand gripping the crate as he tried to resist the sheer amount of pain he was in. His eyes stayed locked to Kuhn's, before he loosened up, taking a deep breath.

"Kan."

Macario didn't appear to move a muscle, yet Kuhn was hit with the force of a fist right in his stomach. It wasn't as strong as previous blows, but it made up for that in surprise value. The invisible force of Macario's in Kuhn's stomach. The extra sensitivity from his high fever made him fold like a lawnchair, holding his stomach. "What the fuck?" He asked, losing the grip on his shotgun. He regained the grip and fired at Macario from his hunched-position, but Macario narrowly dodged, the bullets hitting the floor behind him. 

 As Kuhn reeled, Macario kicked up from his crate, slamming his head into Kuhn's, hitting him in the nose. Kuhn staggered, holding his nose with one hand, cursing loudly - all to distract Macario as he nimbly tossed the gun in his hand, and grabbed it by the barrel, using it like a baton he hit Macario in the face with it, sending his head lurching to the side.
 
As Macario's legs buckled, he roughly shuffled his feet, directing his weight at Kuhn, lunging. The larger man tackled Kuhn to the ground, both of them hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Sitting up, Macario slugged him across the face, Kuhn tried to guard his face, Macario's attacks were fast but his arms weren't able to pull up the power he wanted. The stone bricks under the two of them began cracking as Macario's fists collided with Kuhn's body, both his face but mostly his guarding arms. He tried to hit Macario away with his gunstock, but unable to get the reach. Instead, he pulled up his leg from the ground as Macrio was reeling back from his fist, and Kuhn's leg held his injured arm back, pushing down, sending Macrio onto the floor instead, Kuhn sitting up, two shells fell out of his pocket into his hand, popping his rifle open to reload them into the chamber. As he brought his gun down, Macario's arms shot up, grabbing Kuhn's, slowing him in lowering his gun to Macario's head.

Kuhn's power was running thin, his fever was getting worse, blood from his nose was dripping onto the gun in his hand, rolling down the steel barrel as he fought valiantly to bring it down to Macario's head. With last push of strength, the Macario would face the barrel. The gunshot rang, yet, the scholar was safe and sound.

Kuhn fell to the side, getting off Macario, putting his gun down. "Some cold blooded murderer I am. Loaded da damn gun with blanks." He said his voice faint, trembling. Like he was choking. His head pounding so hard he could barely even see straight. 

Lying still, Macario caught his breath, a cold sweat on his face, eyes locked on the cieling. With some strain, he propped himself up on his elbows, muttering, "Why the change of heart?"

"I can't make my last action on this earth be to kill some guy I've never even heard off.I should go killing a dragon with the last bullet in my gun. Saving a fair princess. Protecting a whole kingdom from an evil tyrant. Not in da basement of dae biggest dick in all of da seas. Fighting with whatsyourface." Kuhn said with a soft scoff. With effort, he pulled off his glove on his left hand. The veins on his skin had a skickish red glow to them, and the very same look went all the way through his neck and into his covered eye. His bronze tanned skin was much paler than before. His hand was shaking, blood dripped onto it, and a second later, so did a few tears. "Heh.. Never thought I'd be so scared of dying.."

Feeling a pit growing in his stomach, Macario winced. "You aren't looking too good." Eyes widening in recognition, he glanced over to the safe for a moment.

"I wou - I would say the same to you, if I could see you." Kuhn said quietly. Falling onto his back. As he did, he put his hat on his chest. 

Stepping back over, Macario looked over him, noting, "You could see me just fine before."

"And now I can't see nothing but da back of my eyelids. It's what scarlet plague will do to you, mate." He said, calmly, he still felt a couple of tears rolling down his chin.

Plop.

 "Goldenrod bought up all the medicine in the known area. Intimidated anyone who could make more into not doing so. He killed 19 people just to prevent me from getting medicine for it from anyone else but him. That's why I'm working for that massive asshole."

"Hyperignimia? I thought it was weird he had a bunch of this stuff," Macario said, placing a bottle from his pocket down next to Kuhn. "I found a bunch of this crap in the storage area. There was a stupid bird buzzing around. I left it open. Not on purpose..."

As if he did not dare to dream, Kuhn had to ask. "W-What stuff? What's in the bottle?"

"Just shut up and drink," Macario said, cracking open the dosage.

As he went to pour it, Kuhn stopped him. "Dude" He said, in the next instance, in his hand, a syringe came, lined with metal from his coat sleeve. "It's not for drinking." Kuhn buttoned up his shirt, revealing his chest.  Putting his hat next to his head "Straight into the heart." Kuhn said.  

Not bothering to excuse himself, Macario took the syringe, filling it. Flicking the needle to remove any bubbles, he took a breath, insisting, "Hold still," before plunging the needle into his chest.

As Macario emptied the needle into Kuhn's chest, he inhaled deeply. His heart pumped a handful of times, as his fever began going down, and his veins stopped glowing. His sight returned to him. As soon as he could see, his hand jolted up to the hunching Macario, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him ont othe ground, his pistol against his head.
"I never leave a job unfinished." Kuhn told him wtih his coldest voice. Before cracking into a smile, getting of Macario, he holstered his gun again, before he started laughing.

"I was sure I was a goner, man. Thanks."

Macario clicked his tongue. "I'd hit you if you weren't just dying." 

"I'd shoot you. But that would be redundant." the gunner replied.

Getting back up with a grunt, he muttered, "Ow, I'm starting to feel it." His muscles starting to burn with his adrenaline fading, he flopped back down. After a few breaths, he reiterated, "Hey, that medicine...like I said, it's pretty conspicuous now."

Kuhn sat up. "Yeah. You got hit pretty bad. I did aim away from your vitals. And I got the bullet out of you, so you'll live." 

"But you'll need a doctor. I'm going to go find more of da serum." Kuhn said, getting onto his feet. As he headed towards the door, he heard the click of a gun behind him. Kato had come too, and was now aiming a flintlock at Kuhn whom was about to get out of the door.

In one hand, he had the gun, in the other, his flipbook.

Flip Flip Flip

[b]Die[/b] the page read as bullets were fired, Kuhn's revolver was in his hand, Kato's hand was bleeding and the flipbook was in a million pieces. "That's a lot nicer than what I'm going to do to your brother." Kuhn told Kato, heading towards the storage facility.


---

“You're done. It's a shame I never got to learn to know you. In a different life, perhaps we could've been friends.” Isaac said with a sigh. “You're a good warrior.  The best fight I've had in a very long time. I will grant you a honorable death...” Isaac told him, as he walked towards Chester, wiping the latters blood off of his sword with his sleeve. Chester was getting back up, his back turned against Isaac.

[b]Piercing Blade[/b] Isaac moved, his blade moving quickly once more, appearing white due to the speed. [b]Shattering Shout[/b Chester's fist sent out such powerful vibrations as he turned around to punch Isaac that the vibrations alone cracked Isaac's sword and forcing him to lower the weapon, just long enough for Chester to punch him in the chest. The bleeding pirates fist still vibrated, steaming from the friction generated as Isaac hit the pillar behind five meters behind him, cracking the pillar as Isaac slid down the pillar, knocked unconcious. 

“I don't drink to forget my mistakes. I don't give a fuck about your stupid honor. Losing is out of the question. I am Chester D. Arnold, and I don't have a single regret.”