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But Arthur didn't budge. The train grew closer, too close, until the hiss of brakes screamed against the rails. Steam burst from the undercarriage, and the train groaned as it slowed violently, coming to a hard stop just a dozen feet from the oil wagon. Arthur leapt down from the wagon and hit the dirt, as he saw the train engineer get down from the train as well.
The train engineer's face was aghast and full of surprise, with a high voice, he looked at Arthur, "Hey! What's going on here?! What's going on?!" Due to the light of the train, the train engineer doesn't realize that Arthur was wearing a sack cloth mask.
Meanwhile, he also doesn't realize that Charles was creeping toward him from his behind, and when he hears the footsteps, it was too late, as when he turns around and sees Charles with a sack cloth mask, he lets out a scream by Charles knocks him out cold with the handle of his revolver.
"Nothing good," said Charles after hitting the train engineer and couch down to loot him.
Arthur walked past Charles with this carbine repeater while saying, "I need to go up toward the train. Finish up here and join us there as soon as possible."
Charles nodded at Arthur's order, his voice dropping into a much deeper and gruff tone. "Go on, get up there!"
Arthur didn't look back. With his carbine repeater held close, he walked toward the passenger car, boots thudding against the hard packed dirt beside the train tracks. The hiss of steam still lingered in the air, curling up like ghostly fingers under the moonlight.
As Arthur neared the passenger car, he saw Caleb already standing beside the metal steps, tall and calm, silhouetted in the light bleeding from the train windows.
Caleb's sack cloth mask flapped slightly in the breeze, and the glint of his Lancaster repeater caught Arthur's eye.
Then the passenger car door creaked open, and a uniformed train guard stepped out, holding a repeater in his hands. His voice was sharp with confusion. "Hey—"
But Caleb was faster.
He stepped forward like a ghost and spun the guard around, slamming the butt of his repeater into the side of the man's head. The guard collapsed instantly, his weapon clattering to the ground beside him.
Caleb grunted. His high pitched voice, made deeper by the mask but still with a hint of youthful sharpness, disguising his natural tone, called to Arthur, "Captain, I think some change needs to be made. You help John gain some charitable donations, and I'll go ahead and greet the friendly guards on the cargo cars."
Arthur chuckled, just a little, and made his voice higher and much more raspy. "Alright, you take care now. Don't take too long."
With that, Arthur climbed the steps and disappeared into the front of the passenger car. Caleb turned and headed further down the train, boots thumping lightly across the connecting gangway.
Two luxurious passenger cars followed, their windows dimly glowing, curtains drawn tight to keep out the dark. Then came one plainer car with hard benches and poor men inside. Caleb ignored them. The cargo was what he came for.
He reached the first cargo car and paused. He knew the layout already, thanks to his Past Life Memory. There were four guards, three inside, and one up top. He grinned behind the mask. Same as the game, he thought.
Caleb climbed up to the roof of the car. Sure enough, the guard was prone with a repeater, scanning the area beyond the train as it had stopped, unaware of Caleb's presence until it was far too late. Caleb crept forward and then stomped hard, boot to skull. The man crumpled without a sound.
He quickly dropped down between the two cargo cars, crouching low, he turned and slipped to the front door of the second cargo car.
Inside, two guards were talking, one sipping from a flask. Caleb's eyes narrowed. He adjusted his grip on his repeater.
Soft steps, hard hits.
He pushed the door open, crept inside, and smashed the first one's face with the butt of his gun. The second man shouted and raised his weapon, but Caleb pulled the wounded guard in front of him as a human shield.
"Drop it," Caleb warned, voice level but tight. "Now."
The second guard hesitated, eyes wide, before slowly lowering his repeater.
Caleb shoved the wounded guard aside and lunged forward, cracking the other guard across the jaw. The man collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
All clear.
Three down, one to go.
The fourth guard who stood at the front section of the first cargo car was smarter than the other three. His repeater half raised, eyes darting. He'd heard something.
Caleb didn't give him time to investigate.
He burst through the door, using one of the unconscious guards as a human shield. The third man spun, his repeater coming up—
"Drop it if you want your friend to live," Caleb snarled, his voice a disguised growl.
The guard hesitated.
Caleb shoved the limp body forward, forcing the man to stumble back. In that split second of confusion, Caleb lunged. His fist connected with the guard's jaw, snapping his head back. A second punch to the solar plexus doubled him over. A final elbow to the back of the neck dropped him like a sack of flour.
Caleb exhaled, rolling his shoulders. All four guards neutralized.
Meanwhile, as all of that happened, at the same time, inside the first luxurious passenger car, Arthur stepped in from the front door just as John entered from the rear.
John's revolver barked once, a loud warning shot to silence any screams before they started.
"Everybody stay calm and nobody'll get shot!" John yelled, his voice clear but not overly gruff, enough to command but not enough to panic, and disguise his voice as well.
A tall man in a gray bowler hat stood quickly at the front of the car, shouting, "This is—!"
Arthur didn't hesitate.
He lunged forward, grabbed the man by the shoulder, and spun him around. The butt of his carbine repeater cracked into the man's face, and he dropped with a groan, unconscious.
John didn't flinch. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a large burlap sack, waving it in front of the passengers.
"Come on, give me everything you got! Money! Valuables!"
The passengers, wealthy businessmen, overdressed ladies, and one terrified priest, began fumbling into their pockets, opening purses and satchels.
Arthur and John moved steadily through the car. When someone hesitated, a plump banker with a monocle, a young lady hiding a necklace, Arthur stepped in.
He leaned in close, voice low and dangerous, but different from his natural voice. "Don't make me ask again."
Then he grabbed the man by the collar, spun him around, and cracked the stock of his carbine repeater across his temple. The man dropped like a stone.
That always worked. Every time.
John barely glanced at the unconscious figure, already moving down the aisle with a burlap sack held open. "Come on, folks! Money! Valuables! Don't make this harder than it needs to be!"
By the time they reached the rear of the car, the sack was beginning to fill up. John tossed it over his shoulder with a satisfied nod. "That's one done."
They pushed through to the second car.
This time, Arthur raised his voice with a deeper base and gruff tone. "Alright, same thing! Empty your pockets!"
A portly gentleman in a striped suit clenched his fists. "I won't be robbed by the likes of—"
Arthur didn't let him finish. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisted it just enough to make him yelp, and shoved him back into his seat, then slapped the man across the face with the side of his carbine. "What was that?"
The man's defiance crumbled. He fished out a wad of bills from his coat, tossing them into the sack with a glare
John laughed. "Man's got a strong teachin' hand, huh?"
They moved quickly through the rest of the car, gathering more cash, watches, rings, and earrings. No one resisted after that.
By the time Caleb finished securing the cargo holds, Arthur and John had cleared the passenger cars. Charles rejoined them near the rear of the train, dragging a tied up engineer behind him.
"Train's ours," Charles grunted.
Arthur nodded, pulling his mask down just enough to spit. "Good. Let's get what we came for and ride out."
The next ten minutes were a blur of activity. Crates were pried open, safes cracked, and valuables stuffed into saddlebags. Gold watches, cash bundles, jewelry, and anything of worth were taken.
Arthur let out a surprised voice as he pulled a stack of bonds from a wealthy looking passenger's briefcase. "Now this is a damn payday!"
John smirked. "Told you this'd be worth it."
Caleb, meanwhile, found something unexpected in the cargo hold, a locked strongbox. A few well-placed shots from his revolver shattered the lock, revealing stacks of crisp banknotes and three shiny gold things that caused his breath to catch.
Three gold bars.
"Well, well," he muttered, pocketing two of the hold bars to his satchel for himself, before showing the gold bar to the others, putting it inside John's sack that was filled with money and valuables.
With the loot secured, they moved quickly.
Arthur gave a signal to Charles, who moved to uncouple the last two cars from the rest of the train.
"Make it look like a mechanical error," Arthur said.
As the coupling came loose and the brakes were set, the team gathered at the tree line. Their horses were ready. The loot was secured. The job is done.
Arthur looked at Caleb. "You did good, Caleb."
Caleb shrugged. "Thanks, Arthur. I played this part before."
Arthur blinked. "Say what?"
"Nothing," Caleb replied quickly, hiding the smirk under his mask.
John hooted. "That went smoother than I thought!"
Charles grunted. "Let's not jinx it."
The gang spurred their steeds into a gallop, vanishing into the night just as the first shouts of looks like lawmen rose from the train behind them.
The return to Horseshoe Overlook was triumphant. Dutch clapped Arthur on the back, his grin wide.
"Now this is how you do a damn train job! Good work, all of you!"
Hosea chuckled as he looked at the take and deduced the total worth, before smiling. "Enough here to keep us comfortable for quite a while, after storing some of it and splitting some for the four of you."
Caleb smiled as he saw Dutch and Hosea studying the pile of loot with the kind of gleam in their eyes usually reserved for poker wins and a bottle of fine whiskey.
Arthur stood nearby, hands on his hips, recounting the events of the job to the two older men with the satisfaction of a man who'd just walked away from a prizefight with all his teeth intact.
"It went smoother than a greased hog down a muddy slope," Arthur said, his voice rough but pleased. "We rode out just in time, and heard shouts behind us, probably lawmen. Caleb took down four guards without firin' a single shot. Just one shot the whole time, and that was John lettin' off a warning inside the passenger car to keep 'em all quiet."
Dutch gave a low whistle, eyebrows raising beneath his black hat. "Only one shot fired on a train job? That's damn near miraculous."
Hosea chuckled, leaning on his cane. "And it wasn't even a kill shot. That's discipline. And smarts. That's how we keep the Pinkertons and whoever teaching us off our tail. And the masks? Whose idea was that?"
John walked up at that moment, swinging the half full burlap sack they'd stuffed with bills, watches, and jewelry. "My idea. Figured it'd keep our faces hidden. But Caleb here," he gestured toward the younger man, "he suggested we change our voices too. Rough it up, drop it low, and sound like someone else. Just in case any of those rich bastards try to get clever and hire someone to match our voices with rumors or bounties."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 1)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
Money: 731 dollars and 61 cents and 2 gold bars
Bank: 40 dollars, 2 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets