The Preface: Back in January I started something which has taken on a life of its own. Every third week at my place of work I take it upon myself to conduct a survey with my coworkers. Just a fun survey with no right or wrong answer, simply to satisfy my curiosity and give everyone a moment of fun and a break from the daily work grind. It's my own version of that TV show on Spike TV called DEADLIEST WARRIOR. I'm trying to provide alternative match-ups to what was featured on that show.
Once I have asked all my coworkers (or least everyone I come across in a week to two week period) I post the results in our break-room along with a short story from my twisted imagination. The story is of the battle based entirely on the results of the survey. Some read it. Some don't. But it's there for all my coworkers to enjoy. And now it's here for all of you to enjoy.
ROUND THREE
COWBOY VS PIRATE
Here's how the voting went
COWBOY PIRATE I THINK YOU NEED TO CHECK YOUR MEDICATION
48 48 1
STORE MANAGER CHOICE:
COWBOY
ADVANTAGE: DRAW
THE STORY
THE SETTING
Their
throats were parched. The wind, hot and dry, blew heavily against them. Ahead,
like a jagged scar across the earth, flowed the Rio Grande River. Over the
bridge ahead lay the land of Texas along with their hopes for salvation. The
two farmers from Mexico crossed the border into the Lone Star state, not
looking for fortune, but for a savior. They spent day and night in a small border
town trying to talk to the cowboys and gunslingers that passed through. None
would give them the time of day. The memory of two years ago, the
Mexican-American War of 1848, was still
fresh in everyone’s minds.
One day a tall man dressed in long brown duster and
wide brimmed hat, two colts hanging off his hips, astride a great steed, came
into town. The two farmers wasted no time in introducing themselves. Much to
their surprise the gunslinger listened. They told him of their village off the
coast of Mexico, the goldmine, and great terror that threatened to destroy
their lives: Pirates! They begged for his help, offering him a share of the
gold if he’d only help them. Through narrow eyes, squinted by the sun, peering
out from under the brim of his hat, he took a long look at the two of them. He
agreed to help. However, he told them they were going to need six more men.
The
two farmers set out back home with seven men following them. Handpicked by the
gunslinger himself, these seven were some of the roughest and toughest cowboys
and quick-draws in the west. In four days they came upon a small village off
the coast, a massive mine at the north edge of the settlement. The village was
completely exposed to the sea. A good place to defend oneself from a land attack,
but an exposed underbelly to an assault from the sea. They quickly set about
training the villagers, arming them with spears and preparing traps within the
mine and the village itself. The seven men themselves were armed with
six-shooters, rifles, bowie knives, machetes, whips, and lassos. Between the
seven of them they had just over a 100 bullets.
Days
passed with no signs of the pirates. One early morning before sunup the
gunslinger in the long brown duster awoke with a start. Something didn’t feel right.
Looking out over the water he spotted a ship with black sails in the distance,
heading straight for them. He awoke the six men next to him and sent out an
alarm through the village. Through his spy-glass he counted six cannons along
the port and starboard sides, a buxom mermaid coiled around a skeleton carved
in the bow of the ship, her hand reaching inside the skeleton’s ribcage
clutching it’s heart. The same image shown on the black flag flying on the
mast. The gunslinger recognized the emblem, the last pirate scourge of the
oceans, The Isabella’s Vengeance, led by the dread pirate Cervantes. As he
watched the ship sail closer he saw a section of the ship’s bow pull inward and
a triple cannon emerge from the skeleton’s chest.
THE
BATTLE
Thunderous
booms echoed across the water. The screams of cannon balls shrieked through the
air. The gunslinger only had time to shout, “Take cover!” before the ground
exploded around them! Shards of rocks and clouds of dirt hailed against their
bodies. “Move! Move!” yelled the gunslinger as Isabella’s Vengeance showed her
starboard side. The cannons roared! Houses and homes were leveled. 20 pound
steel cannon balls plowed through adobe and wood, stone and earth. They rushed
to the villager to help everyone out to safety. The cannon barrage intensified.
Bodies went flying, clothing and flesh shredded by debris and shrapnel. The
cowboys could barely hear the screams of the people, their ears still ringing
from the initial bombardment. Their hearts pounded in their chests knowing any
moment could be their last. They rushed as many people further inland as they
could but not before losing three of their own.
The
cannon fire focused primarily on the township, being careful to avoid striking
the mine. Eventually the cannons ceased fire. Four long boats dropped into the
water, nine pirates in each, Captain Cervantes leading one of the boats himself.
The cowboys had a small window to get ready. They each shared apprehensive
glances, silently debating whether this battle was worth the risk. The
gunslinger stood up and looked at what remained of them saying, “Live for
something. Or die for nothing.” They each stood up ready to follow his lead.
Two of the cowboys ran up above the mine with rifles. The gunslinger and
remaining cowboy took the able-bodied villagers back down to the houses left
standing.
As
soon as the pirates came ashore they ran shouting and roaring for the village,
armed with swords, knives, grenades, and single shot pistols. Gunshots fired
off in the distance, bullets piercing pirate heads and chests. The riflemen
were true to their marks. Cervantes spied the snipers and sent a contingent of
crazed crewmen their way. The rest of them stormed what remained of the
village. The farmers took up their spears and machetes in a desperate attempt
to fight back. One glimpse of the monstrous pirates sent fear coursing through
them. Stabbed with knives, bludgeoned with rocks, and still the pirates came
after the farmers like rabid beasts. The structures left standing were bombed out
with grenades, more villagers blown apart.
A
horde of six pirates circled around one of the houses coming face to face with
the gunslinger. He aimed his pistol with lightning speed. Six shots fired
before the pirates could take as many feet. Three went down while three still
charged forward, bullets imbedded in their flesh, bodies bleeding. The
gunslinger fired another six shots into them with his second pistol. Two more
went down while one still kept on. The pirate tackled him to ground. They
rolled in the dust, the pirate punching and biting. The gunslinger pulled his
knife from his belt and stabbed the pirate several times in the chest. Still
his enemy persisted. Hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed! The
gunslinger slashed his throat. The pirate bled out over him, only when the
blood flow slowed did he finally fall down dead.
Another
pirate came barreling around the corner, his long curved edge cutlass held high
above his head. The gunslinger froze, unable to mount a defensive, his guns
empty, the body of his slain enemy weighted atop him. The other cowboy came
galloping past on his horse, swing his lasso above. He roped the pirate around
the neck and drug the seaman across the ground. Up ahead stood a tree with a
thick branch hanging out horizontally. The cowboy stood up on the back of his
horse, lasso in hand. He leapt off his steed over the branch. His descending
weight pulled the pirate up off the ground kicking and thrashing. The cowboy
tied off his lasso on a hitch and let the pirate hang. In one smooth motion he
hopped up onto his horse and rode back into town firing his pistols on more
enemies.
The
two cowboys on the ridge stopped ten pirates with their rifles. Another ten
came screaming their way firing their pistols and slinging grenades. One of the
cowboys took a slug to the shoulder, an exploding grenade obstructing their
view. In seconds the pirates were on top of them. Pistols fired at point blank.
Knives stabbed. Punches cracked across jaws. The cowboys were overwhelmed five
to one. They both knew in seconds they’d be dead. One of them stole a grenade
off a pirate’s belt, fire a bullet across the wick, the heat of the shot
lighting the explosive. Twelve men died in an instant.
The
cowboy on horseback rode through town firing bullets into the heads and hearts
of each Spaniard he came across. He rode past a house firing on two pirates
standing farther ahead. From behind the house ran out two pirates, swords
drawn. They cut the horse’s legs out from under sending the animal crashing
head-long into the dirt. The cowboy was flung through the air towards Captain
Cervantes. The Captain held a harpoon up at an angle, the base planted firmly
in the ground. The harpoon impaled the cowboy through the chest, his body
hanging in the air.
The
gunslinger, now realizing exactly what he was up against, attacked every pirate
he came across with extreme prejudice. These pirates were the fiercest
opponents he’d ever faced, taking more punishment then he could imagine, and
still coming at him. After several more shots the battle seemed to have
quieted. He saw the impaled body of his fellow cowboy. Looking to the ridge he
saw a spattering of crimson over the rocks and no riflemen. Heading towards the
mine was the Captain and two of his men. The gunslinger counted his bullets. 10
shots. He loaded one gun with six and the rest in the other.
Cervantes
neared the entrance to the mine. Inside the women and children of the village
huddled in fear. Behind them lay the gold. Two shots rang out behind him, the
heads of his men bursting with sprays of scarlet. The captain turned around
slowly. Twenty paces away stood the last of the cowboys. Cervantes bared his
horrid teeth, his braided beard dangling from his chin. The gunslinger stood
calm and collected, his duster blowing in the wind. The last men standing. Cervantes
wore a large captain’s hat, a vest with six single shot pistols strapped to it,
two pistols on his hips practically touching the two swords sheathed on his
belt.
The
two stared each other down, each waiting to see who would draw first. The
gunslinger’s pistol flew up. A bullet fired. The Captain leaned to the side,
the shot taking his hat off his head. The pirate pulled two pistols off his
vest and fired both! The cowboy turned to the side, one bullet grazing his
shoulder while other tore through his duster. Both men ran parallel towards the
beach taking shots at each other as they dashed. As soon as Cervantes fired a
shot he dropped the pistol and pulled another from his vest. Upon reaching the
water’s edge the pirate had used up all the guns on his vest and the cowboy
only had two bullets left, one in each gun.
They turned and ran for each other.
Cervantes reached for the pistols on his hips. The gunslinger fired a shot into
the Captain’s chest, barely slowing him down. The pistols came out but they were
not merely pistols, the swords came out with them! The hilts of the swords
looked like pistols! The pirate came at him with both swords swinging. He drew
his knife and machete in response. Their blades clashed and clanged. Cervantes
slashed open his opponent’s chest, cut his arms and sliced his legs. When it
came to swords the gunslinger was painfully outclassed. His machete and knife
were knocked from his hands.
He dashed backwards giving himself some room and
pulled the whip off the back of his belt. The whip cracked striking the
pirate’s left hand. One sword fell into the sand. Cervantes turned toward his
seemingly idle ship in the water roaring, “Fire!” The cannons burst to life and
the beach exploded around them. Smoke and sand flew everywhere. Enraged, the
captain charged forward while more cannon balls crashed around them! The whip
cracked again wrapping around the pirate’s throat. He cut the whip in two and
swung his sword at the gunslinger’s head! The cowboy held up his pistols
blocking the blade moments away from his face. The hilt of the sword, which
resembled the barrel of a gun, was trained on his face. At this close of range
he realized the sword hilt was a fully functioning pistol! His enemy grinned
and pulled the trigger. Just before the shot rang out the gunslinger turned his
head and opened his mouth. The bullet ripped through one cheek and out the
other!
The cowboy pushed down on the sword with his guns, aimed, and fired the only
bullet he had left. Cervantes was struck right between the eyes. All the
tension left his body and he collapsed dead on the beach. He
could hear the outraged cries from the ship far out over the water. The
Isabella’s Vengeance fire another barrage of cannon fire over the village and
at the mine. The gunslinger took cover. After several minutes of cannon fire
Isabella seemed out of ammunition. Her sails shifted, catching a westerly wind,
and she sailed away to pirate another day.
The gunslinger stood up amidst the dust and wind. His body was battered, bruised, and bleeding from numerous wounds. Half his face was shot off. All his comrades lay dead. The village had been leveled and half the residents murdered. And for what? For money? He looked at the survivors, crying and cradling the corpses of their loved ones. No one came to his aid nor offered a single word of thanks. A great emptiness filled the pit of his stomach. Near him sticking up out of the sand was Cervantes’s other gunblade, still loaded with a single shot. He took up the sword and walked off into the sunset leaving the villagers to grieve and maybe one day rebuild. He had no idea where he was going or if he’d even survive the night in his condition. If he did live the effects of this day would change him forever.
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