The town is quiet, eerily so. All animals, all chatter, all gusts of wind have come to a complete stop this morning. A tumbleweed passes by through the center of town and the rocking chair on the Sheriff's porch sways but remains silent. Everything is muted and as the door of the hotel opens, the only sensation that rings utterly true today is this:
This is the end.
Suddenly, the church bells ring -- twelve rings to mark the hour and the door to the Sheriff's station swings open on the twelfth. The Sheriff tucks his thumbs into his belt loops and walks across the strip of town right to the door of the Saloon. A moment later, he knocks on the door frame, loud enough to alert anyone who might be inside.
"Alright, folks. Come on out. Time to end this."
And then he turns his back and walks back into the middle of the street, waiting.
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robowest2017-03-03 06:00 pm
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Percy crumples to the floor and the Sheriff watches, expression unchanging aside from a raised eyebrow at how easily he goes. Blood splashes to his face but he doesn't mind it, only pulls his pipe out a moment later and presses it out with a thumb. It goes back into his pocket as he crouches down to take his gun from Percy's still warm fingertips.
The decision is made and the winner is dead. There's nothing left to do now.
He looks over at the other two bodies, Barnham and Damian, before back to the train again. A hand lifts in a single wave and he holsters his gun before turning and heading back for the station.
Slow steps up the porch and through the door and he closes it behind him with a soft click. The town continues to remain silent, nothing and no one left to stir it. They're all gone, after all. They're all ready to go home. Which means with that --
The game is over. ]