Colt takes out two Outriders in seconds. His shots are so well aimed and quick that none of them has the time to even think about running. He lets himself fall to the ground and rolls away to escape gun fire by the third desperado, turning mid roll, before his enemy has the time to take aim again. he takes him out, sending him back to phantom zones.
Adrenaline is powering through his veins and he feels exhilarated.
A shot barely misses his helmet, and when he follows its direction he sees another outrider, vaporized.
He looks back to find out who, saved him.
Saber Rider is saluting him, gun still in hand, proudly sitting on Steed’s back. “Thanks, Top Sword,” he calls.
But the fight isn’t over and Saber is drawing his sword to take out another enemy.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Saber looks up from his book to look at Colt who’s in the process of sitting down at the table in front of him, a plate full of sandwiches in one hand. “Want some?” Colt offers.
He nods and reaches for one. “Thank you.”
“So where did you learn it?”
“I learned it from my father. He’s a passionate hunter, although he mostly kept to drag hunts and clay pigeon shooting, when I was a child. Why? Where did you learn?”
Colt is munching on his sandwich and looking exceptionally interested. “Target shooting, huh? Must have been nice, learning all that from your dad.”
“I guess so.” He shrugs, feeling a little nostalgic thinking about it.
“I learnt it out here. Not much you can do and learn out here, growing up in a small town. At the rodeo we had some shooting competitions. I think that’s where I picked most of it up.”
Saber let out a low chuckle. “It’s obvious you’ve honed your skills since then. To near perfection even.”
Colt stares at him, open mouthed, his sandwich forgotten for the moment. “Wow. That’s quite the praise coming from the legendary Saber Rider.”
“ Give credit where it’s due.” Saber picks up his book again, comfortably leaning back into the seat.
Colt goes back to his food, atypically quiet for a moment. A few minutes later he has gobbled up the last sandwich and gets up. For a moment he hesitates, watching their team leader read in silence. “You know for a posh kid, you’re kinda all right.”
“Thank you cold, you’re quite all right yourself.”