Rematch

“Next shooters!”

After another long wait in a line that concealed the attraction itself almost entirely, the four shooters stepped up.

Saint was there just to hold a space in the game, holding a gun but not shooting at anything. As for Katie…

“So. How hard do you wanna make this on yourself?”

Frankie liked the more “friendly rivalry” attitude her opponent had scooted towards, but there wasn’t an easy answer to what she was asking.

“Uh…” She turned to her big sister, who looked excited whether she was going to get to play or not.

“Count her in if you want. If her previous performance is anything to go on, it won’t be that much of an advantage anyway.”

“Okay.” Frankie bit. “Just don’t underestimate the girl who dragged me barefoot out of our house in Missouri to get here today.” She held up the same rifle she had last time, and cocked the lever. Katie raised her pistol, clicking its single-action hammer back.

Cheryl chuckled, hamming it up for the sake of the moment.

“Say goodbye to your tokens, then, blondie. Too bad when I was just barely starting to like you.”

Cheryl tucked one arm behind her back and raised the levergun with a single hand. Frankie smiled.

“Right back atcha, cowgirl.”

“Open fire!”

Both riflewomen wasted no time in blasting as many targets as they could within the first second of the starting bell ringing. While Cheryl shot the hardest-to-reach targets first, netting her a massive opening pool of expensive point values, Frankie spammed her firing hand at as many cheap targets as she could hit. It made her knuckles burn in seconds, but the girl’s grit made for a level of payoff almost equal to Cheryl’s.

Almost.

In the meanwhile, Katie hit what she could. If they lost, it could spell death for pretty much everything they were working towards- only five days, and one of them totally wasted. There was no chance of winning Kidney’s game after that. But she remembered a certain quiz she took, and tried as hard as she could to forget that for now. The more she worried about losing something, the worse she got at protecting it. Today, she would have fun.

With a grin, Katie remembered a western movie she saw once and lowered her Colt to her hip. Fanning the hammer, she sent as many electronic signals as she could towards the gallery, spraying and praying to hit anything. It was surprisingly effective- but more importantly, it was fun as hell.

Cheryl and Frankie continued to fight tooth-and-nail over increasible high-profile targets as the timer ticked down, the underdog tourist trying not to check the score or be mesmerized by her opponent’s wildly incomprehensible proficiency in cocking her rifle with one dexterous hand.

Saint cheered for everyone, only holding a slight bias towards his sister as he watched the sparks fly. The people in line got a real show as the range started to sound more like a broken casino paying out jackpots at an alarming rate. The bells and whistles of the machine rivaled even the far-off coasters, whipped into an orchestra of excitement by the gunslingers.

The crowd ate it up.

“That’s the girl who beat me yesterday! Kick her ass!”

“Show that tourist what we’re made of!”

“Whatcha still usin’ one hand for? She’s catching up!”

“Those girls on the right don’t stand a chance!”

As the time grew thinner and thinner, the two sides of the gallery found themselves sticking more and more to their respective halves of the range, farming the high-point targets as they kept everything else mowed down the second it popped up. Cheryl could do this on her own, Frankie got pretty close with the help of her sister. With only seconds left, every instant became a decisive moment. The audience watched the scores with baited breath.

“She’s winning! Wait- no, she’s winning!

“Shoot faster!”

“Hey, watch out!”

Within the final second of the timer, Frankie raised her gun to the highest-paying target she could see: a tiny, tiny cutout of a fly in the distance. This was her best bet- the most points for the least time. And she had a clear shot. But in her heightened focus, Frankie spotted for just a fleeting glance Cheryl’s movement towards her next hit.

Evert other target was down. Cheryl’s one-arm shooting style led her to twist her whole body as she clearly aimed towards a can- not the highest-paying spot, but a good one.

A very, very good one.

Frankie course-corrected, using her higher speed of aiming with her form grip on the gun to spin right around to right where age could tell Cheryl was going for- and pulled the trigger, swiping the points right out from under her before she had the chance.

“Ti-“

The announcer was literally calling the end of the match as the panicked, sweating tourist behind the rifle aimed as fast as she could back to her side of the field and spammed that damn lever as many times as she could.

“-me’s up!”

“D-did any of that count?”

The gallery shut off. Frankie held her breath and closed her eyes as she turned up to the score.

Opening them, she saw on her screen a number very, very similar to the one on its right.

Cheryl’s Side- 27117 points.

Frankie’s Side- 27119 Points.

Both the sisters cheered as they dropped their rifles to the table in front of the range, high-fiving their hands together as half the crowd cried out along with them in a moment of joyous carny-game victory.