The night air was thick with silence at Marcus' farmhouse. Logan crept into the training room, drawn by curiosity and fascination. Rows of guns glimmered in the dim light. He picked up a revolver, feeling its surprising weight. Tentatively, he aimed it at a shadowed corner, not realizing it was loaded.
A loud bang echoed, startling him. The revolver slipped from his hands, clattering on the wooden floor. Panic surged through him.
"Who's there?" a calm voice called.
Alexander emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of relief and exasperation. "Logan! What are you doing here?"
"I… I just wanted to try them," Logan stammered, sheepishly.
Alexander slammed his back against him, sending a warning shiver down his spine. "Do not touch any gun again," he growled. "And we have to leave… before the Rogers wake up."
"Why?" Logan asked, puzzled.
Alexander's eyes darkened. "I won't risk our lives living with gunslingers. It's safer if we stay out of their world for now."
Without further discussion, they packed two revolvers and three boxes of bullets into a bag, quietly mounted their cart, and slipped into the night. From a window, Marcus watched their departure, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Why are you letting them go?" Elena asked, confused.
Marcus shrugged. "They'll return eventually. Black Vultures will come for them—and when they do, they'll be ready."
Days later, Alexander and Logan settled in Willowbrook, a quiet town away from the chaos. One afternoon, Alexander dined at a small eatery run by the famous cook, Jake Reynolds. The dish was exquisite, and Alexander didn't hesitate to compliment the chef. Unbeknownst to him, Elena was observing from a nearby alley, noting his humility and manners.
As Alexander exited the shop, he noticed an old beggar with only one arm, struggling to carry his belongings. Without hesitation, Alexander sat beside him and offered $30, a significant sum.
The beggar's eyes widened. "Thank you, sir," he began, but Alexander interrupted, curious. "Tell me… what happened to your arm?"
The man's face hardened with memory. "I served in the Civil War. Lost my arm in battle. But I was still strong enough to fend for myself. Then… in 1877, lawmen burned down my house in a shootout. My family… gone."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "During Antony's tenure? My father was one of the victims…" A quiet connection formed between them. In minutes, they shared stories, laughs, and mutual respect. As Alexander left, the beggar spoke softly, "You have a good heart, son."
From a distance, Elena observed silently. Despite his desire to avoid the gunslinger life, she realized that Alexander's heart was pure—he would protect the innocent, never let a good person suffer under bad circumstances.
Later, Marcus arrived in Willowbrook—not for Alexander, but to meet David Bennett, a renowned hunter. Marcus extended an invitation to join his gang. David shook his head. "I will join when the time comes, not before." Marcus nodded, understanding. Some allies could not be forced—they came when destiny called.