Chapter 11 - Bandits

As the trio continued on their journey, they decided to hop on a side road for a bit, where they came across a broken-down wagon, one of its wheels popped off its socket and its horses missing.

A middle-aged man sat next to it, looking desperate to find a way to fix it. When he caught them in his sight, he immediately stood up and walked over, his hands clasped together. "Please," he begged, "Would you three happen to have any sort of tools on you?"

"For fixing the wagon?" He asked.

The man nodded. "The wagon's far too heavy to keep going like this, but if I stay here, someone might jump me! In fact, there's been several rumors of bandits raiding wagons just like mine to make a fortune out of others' misfortunes! You've gotta help me if you can!"

He looked at the Elf, then at Maya, and back to the man. "I'm not sure if we have anything for a wheel reattachment, unfortunately."

"Drats! I better ask the next person to come around. Thank you regard-" As the man spoke, a gunshot rang out, spooking all four of them. "Oh no! They're here!" the man yelled as he ran over to his wagon. "I better get my gun, maybe-"

Another gunshot rang out. This time, a bullet landed right next to his feet, scaring him off from the wagon. From the trees, four bandits emerged, each cloaked in blue. Their arsenal ranged from rifles to pistols, but all of them had guns, and clearly none of them were afraid to use them.

"Step aside from the wagon, fools!" One of the cloaked figures said. "This cargo is ours now!"

"No, please! I'm on my last legs here, I can't-"

The cloaked figure with a revolver shot the middle-aged man in the foot, sending him to the ground writhing in pain. "How about you stay still and shut up?" He said.

"You know, shooting him in the foot's not a good way to do either of those." Another cloaked figure chimed in.

"Shut up! Just grab the loot already and lets go!" Three of the cloaked figures went into the wagon, while the remaining one held them at rifle point.

"Don't make any moves," she said. "This rifle's got enough bullets to end all of you."

Soon, the three came out, nothing in tow. "Hey, all of it's just fruits and vegetables. You think we can sell them?"

She turned to look at them. "Sell them? Are you kidding me? Just take some of it, we can start making our own meals!" She turned back to the four. "Well then, it's time for us to depart. Although, we can't have anyone ratting on us. Maybe, just maybe, we'll have to kill all of you anyway."

"Please! You've already taking everything from me! Do you so desperately need me gone too?"

"Sorry, you know how it goes out here. No loose ends-"

Before she could say anything else, a bullet ripped into her body, dropping her. The three immediately scrambled out of the wagon, weapons out, as she screamed in pain. Before any of them could register where she'd been shot from, a gunshot rang out and one of the three dropped dead, a bullet burrowing itself in his brain.

"Oh shit!" The other two put together that the shots came from the right of the wagon, and immediately charged into the forest. Several gunshots followed, as if they and their newfound enemy were trading shots, before it became eerily silent. A minute passed, during which the cloaked figure in front of them remained still, having passed out from losing blood. Peter helped the old man up on his feet, letting him lean on his shoulder for support. Then, the bushes to right rustled, and out came five people. One was completely cloaked, with a hood and bandana covering everything except their bright amber eyes, with pupils like a snake's. The other four weren't nearly as cloaked as she was, but all of them had similar armor: leather chest plates, tattered brown cloaks, and hats reminiscent of cowboy Westerns. All five were armed with some sort of rifle, the same sort of rifles found in the Courier's Weapon Shoppe.

Needless to say, they were much better equipped than the bandits that came previously - and looked way more corny.

"What do we do about these guys, boss?" One of the bandits asked to the cloaked figure.

Their voice was authoritative, and he couldn't tell if they were a man or a woman. "Don't kill them. Tend to that man's wound."

One of them nodded, taking the man off of Peter and laying him down. Deftly fetching a bandage from a pouch, he laid his rifle down and proceeded to wrap a bandage around the man's wound, helping ween the bleeding for a bit. The cloaked figure approached Peter, staring deep into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, uncomfortable with their sudden interest in him. But as she kept looking, he felt a sudden confusion in his brain. Somehow, he knew that whoever this cloaked figure wasn't originally from Deusterra. After thirty seconds, she stepped away, and beckoned him towards them.

"You. Come with me."

He looked at the other bandits, who gestured with their heads to follow her instructions. He looked at Maya, whose body was shaking furiously at the sight of a dead body, and the Elf, who remained still as she grimaced.

"Go. Follow them."

"Are you sure? What if it's a trap?"

"If they wanted to kill us, they would've done it already. And if they're going to kill us, we're dead anyway, no matter what happens. Go with them."

He hesitantly stepped forward, following the figure into the forest. As they stepped through bushes, trees, and dead branches, he wondered if this would be the last thing he ever saw. He hoped it wasn't. There were so many incredible things he could do in this world - magic, traveling, buying a gun without a proper gun license - and he desperately hoped that his second chance wouldn't come to an end just from basic bad luck, the kind of luck that killed him in the first place.

They eventually reached a patch of open field in the forest. Surrounded by trees and boulders littering the place, it seemed like a nice place to have a showdown of sorts. As he glanced around to see if anyone else was staring at them, the figure immediately turned around and slapped him in the face hard, sending him down onto the dirt. Wincing from the pain in his cheek, he scrambled back on his feet, only to see the figure had mysteriously disappeared from his sight. He grabbed his dagger and took it out of its sheath, pointing it in every direction as he desperately searched for the figure. As he stopped looking, he finally found the figure; they stood on the opposite side of the field, staring right at him.

"Now that we've got nobody to interfere, it's time to see what you're finally made of, Outworlder."

"Outworlder?"

Before he could ask any more questions, the figure threw their cloak off, finally exposing who they were.