Chapter Text
In the arid expanse of the Midwest, where dust storms danced across the horizon like lost specters, a lone figure rode into the small forgotten town of Verdansk. It was quiet this time of day, the sun disappearing along the horizon telling people it was either time to sleep or drink the night away.
The man dismounted from his horse and tied it to a post in front of the only saloon. The outside of it looked rough to say the least, weathered from days of countless windstorms battering its sides.
The saloon doors creaked as Soap made his way inside, a few of the patron's glancing at him from their tables, probably wondering why Price's Deputy was already back from patrol. Few gave him a tip of their hats and others ignored his presence completely.
Soap approached the bar his worn boots making soft thuds against the wooden floorboards, and he sits on one of the stools with a sigh.
"Whiskey," he grunted, his voice rough and tired.
The bartender obliged, sliding a glass across the counter. Soap tossed back the drink in a single swig, the burn of the alcohol momentarily distracting him from the weariness that clung to him like the dust outside.
The bartender, a seasoned beta with a face etched by the harshness of the frontier, observed Soap with a mix of curiosity and wariness, noting the scent coming off him that radiated tired, wary. The dim light flickered overhead, casting shadows on Soap's face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Back from patrol early, Soap?" the bartender inquired, his voice gravelly.
Soap nodded, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something. "Yeah, Price wanted me to check in. Things are quiet out there, too quiet."
The bartender grunted in acknowledgment, understanding the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. The other patrons seemed to go about their business, but an undercurrent of unease permeated the saloon.
Soap leaned on the bar, his gaze fixed on the bottle of whiskey in front of him. "Anything happen in town while I was out?"
The bartender shook his head. "Same as usual, just folks tryin' to get by."
Soap took another sip, the alcohol slowly working its magic to dull the edges of his fatigue.
"Heard there was a scuffle." Soap tells the bartender who just shrugs as he cleans a glass from behind the bar.
"When is there not?" He mused and Soap's mouth quirks up into a small grin.
Soap took another thoughtful sip, his eyes scanning the room. The patrons, lost in their own worlds of cards, drinks, and hushed conversations, seemed oblivious to the deputy's presence.
"Any new faces?" Soap asked, his tone low.
The bartender's eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "Stranger came in a day or two ago. Keepin' to himself. Haven't caused no trouble, though."
Soap nodded, his mind filing away the information. In a town like this, strangers were always worth noting, their presence potentially carrying more than just a passing curiosity.
"Best keep an eye out, Soap. This one looks mean," the bartender advised, his voice low and serious.
Soap raises an eyebrow at that, "Meanin'...?"
"Just looks like trouble to me. Comes into town wearin' a face cover of some sorts, dressed in all black. Carryin' two revolvers with him." The bartender speaks in a hushed tone, trying not to catch the attention of the patrons, "Didn't have a scent so I'm assumin' beta."
Soap's eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the details. A stranger with a penchant for concealed weaponry and a demeanor that raised suspicion - it was the kind of information that put a deputy on high alert. In a town like Verdansk, trouble could come in many forms, and Soap knew better than to underestimate the potential threat of a well-armed and guarded individual, even if they weren't an alpha.
"Thanks for the heads up," Soap murmured, his voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the saloon. He glanced around, ensuring that no prying ears were overhearing their conversation.
The bartender leaned in, his weathered face etched with concern. "Just watch your back, Soap. Folks like that, they don't usually bring good tidings."
Soap nods as he adjusted the brim of his hat and made his way toward the swinging doors of the saloon, the creaking hinges announcing his departure.
As Soap stepped out into the cold night air, he scanned the barren street of Verdansk. The town, surrounded by fields of long grass and small hills, had seen its fair share of trouble. It was a place where justice was often measured in quick draws and gun smoke.
Price tries to keep the violence in this town to a minimum, but it doesn't always go so well.
As he walks to his horse, he couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched. He ignores that feeling, swinging his leg over the horse's saddle after untying the beast from the post and sits down comfortably. Lightly pulling the reigns, the horse huffs, moving forward.
The rhythmic clip-clop of the horse's hooves echoed through the quiet streets. Soap's eyes darted from shadow to shadow as he rode, the distant glow of lanterns casting elongated shapes along the wooden buildings.
The feeling of being watched lingered, a persistent itch at the back of Soap's neck. He couldn't shake the notion that trouble was a silent companion in the night, waiting to reveal itself. The town, though quiet, had an air of anticipation, as if the very essence of Verdansk held its breath.
As he neared the outskirts of town, Soap's senses heightened. He reined in his horse, scanning the darkness beyond the town limits. The wind whispered through the desert, carrying with it an unsettling stillness.
A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light cast by a lone lantern.
"Price." Soap calls out to the man who waves to Soap.
"Soap, my boy. How was the patrol?" Price asks as Soap's horse trots closer, Soap dismounting it again. They were currently in front of their shared home. It was uncommon for two alphas to share a home, but Soap and Price were practically family, so it made it easier.
Soap tipped his hat back, acknowledging Price with a nod. "Quiet, for the most part. But there's a stranger in town, causing a stir. The bartender mentioned him. Dressed in black, armed to the teeth. Gives off a feeling of trouble."
Price's brow furrowed as he listened. "I heard about him. Seems trouble's decided to make a pit stop in Verdansk tonight."
Soap leaned against the porch railing, the creak of the wood punctuating the quiet night. "What do you make of him, Price? His presence doesn't sit well with me."
Price sighed, his gaze fixed on the distant stars above. "Trouble has a way of finding us, Soap. We've seen our fair share. But this... this feels different. Keep your senses sharp, my boy. We may be in for a long night."
Soap nodded, the gravity of Price's words sinking in. The wooden planks of the porch creaked softly beneath their weight as they stood in shared contemplation. The night was still, save for the occasional distant howl of a coyote and the rustle of the desert wind.
"I'll keep a close eye on him," Soap said, his jaw set with determination. "We can't let this town fall into chaos. We've worked too hard to keep it standing."
Price clapped a hand on Soap's shoulder, a gesture of silent camaraderie. "That's the spirit, my boy. We've faced worse odds than a man in black. We'll see this through."
As they stepped into the dimly lit home, the warmth of the lanterns flickering, Soap couldn't shake the feeling that their peaceful existence in Verdansk was about to be tested. The stranger in black loomed over the town like a shadow, and the two lawmen knew that the coming dawn might bring answers or a reckoning.