The free fall faded away, and the rush of air was replaced with a low hushed rumble and a rhythmic metallic clatter. She was in an ancient train car, an empty cargo box by the looks of it, with a single hanging lantern for lighting. All around her was a scattering of hay on the floor, and to one end of the car, a full sized mirror with gilded wooden borders. She approached and saw herself in the mirror as expected. A faintly glowing arrow was present on either side of the glass, so Kitty touched it. The image slid sideways, replaced by another version. The face was wrong somehow, different bone structure changing her natural appearance in mild ways. She slid through a few more options, noting that they were all just variations on her own face, before accepting one at random with a press of another glowing button. The boxcar faded away, her sight vanishing as the game loaded. The sound and sway of the track beneath her never left.

  Kitty smiled as her sight loaded back in slowly, a lushly appointed train car forming in her senses. Red leather covered every seating surface, including the stools protruding from bronze pipe supports attached to the bar against one wall. The windows were covered by black felt curtains, tied back with dark burgundy ropes and swaying along with gold and glass tassels.

  Kitty’s smile faded as she attempted to lift her hands, only to find them manacled to the floor by a length of dull iron chain. It rattled and scuffed against the floor mount as she tested it but didn’t give at all. She turned her head to take in the rest of the train car and was pleased to find that she was at least alone. Being alone gave her the chance to take stock, which she figured was likely critical in this particular moment.

  Taking stock started with what she could see. First, she tested to see if there was a heads up display, being pleasantly surprised to see a health bar appear when she glanced up and to the left. It shimmered slightly as her focus wavered, a thick red line reaching out from a pulsating orb fixed in the upper right corner of her vision. Once she stopped focusing on that area, the health bar faded away. When she focused on the upper right of her peripheral vision, a small raindrop appeared with a blue bar descending down from it. Beside it was a cartoony representation of a steaming roasted turkey leg with a brownish bar below it. Neither of those bars were totally full, and when she concentrated on it, Kitty became aware that she was a bit peckish and could do with a drink.

  Her clothing was next, and unfortunately simple. She was wearing a pair of basic blue jeans, torn and dusty at the knees. Her top was covered in a simple button down shirt, and she could feel a basic bandage style bra wrap around her breasts. A simple canvas satchel hung at her side but felt almost entirely empty when she moved a hip to test it. Her shoes were missing, and dirty feet could be seen beneath the chain cuffs around her ankles.

  She chuckled at the realism while heaving against her chains, noting that her pain response was triggered when she pulled too hard. An irritation formed around her wrists, feeling a bit like stretching out a sunburn. The door in front of her slid open, and a tall, angry looking man entered the car. He was wearing a long black shotgun coat with a crisp wide brimmed hat that matched. His chest was covered by a vest over a red shirt, and the simple addition of a silver star.

  “Ah. It’s like that.” Kitty’s lips curled as she spoke, staring up at the man and letting her chains go slack. She slid a length of them under her feet as they coiled, pressing down her weight on that extra length.

  “You shut your damn mouth!” As he moved towards her, she noticed the oversized holster at his belt, and the shining revolver it housed.

  “Oh, I don’t think you want me to shut my mouth, do you . . .” She blinked at him luridly a couple of times, resting her hands on her knees and slowly spreading them apart. Parting her lips, she wet them with her tongue, and made strong eye contact with him.

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  “The hell I don’t, you damned harlot,” the man said. He leaned on the seat across from her, just out of reach. “You’ll sit there quietly or I’ll knock your damned teeth out. Once we get to town, you’re the sheriff’s problem and I don’t have to listen to you no more.”

  She reached towards him with a violent lunge, still keeping her feet planted firmly on the excess chain. Her hands were yanked to a stop with a rattling clang, and she feigned frustration, whining out a growl as she glared into his face.

  “Don’t you make your animal noises at me bitch, I’ve about had it with you.” He glared at her, reaching a hand to rest on his gun. She raised the pitch of her growl in response, baring her teeth at him to really put that final emphasis on the moment.

  He responded in the manner she hoped, hauling his gun out of its holster and reaching to backhand her with it. Kitty ducked, hunching her form down as the revolver whistled over her head, before launching upwards and ramming the top of her skull into the man’s chin. His head snapped back, and he started to fall. Kitty grabbed his coat and yanked, guiding his fall so that he slumped into the seat across from her. At that range, she could go through his pockets, finding the keys to her manacles easily and undoing them from her wrists.

  He started to come around as she undid her ankles, but she quickly dissuaded him from any further violence by jamming the manacles into his jaw. He grunted and grabbed at his face as blood began to patter on the floorboards. Kitty stood up and pressed him back against his seat with a foot, kicking him hard. He collapsed coughing as she moved to where his gun had fallen to retrieve it.

  The revolver was solid, a long metal barrel attached by a flanged wing to the frame, with a heavy walnut-paneled grip. She pointed it at the lawman and a targeting reticule became clear, moving with her when she moved the gun. Her focus would stay the same, but the reticule moved with the gun as she pointed it. A larger circle surrounded a tiny dot, compressing and expanding as she pointed the gun at near or far targets. It seemed designed to give her an approximation of where her shot would land when the gun was fired, so she planted the reticule directly on the lawman’s forehead and thumbed back the hammer.

  That got his attention, and he raised his hands in front of himself, shaking slightly as blood dripped from his scraped jawline. “You’ll hang for this you crazy bitch.” His voice broke as he uttered the expletive, perhaps realizing what it would likely cost him.

  “Take off your hat and coat, please.” Her voice remained flat as she swayed slightly with the movement of the train.

  His face screwed up in confusion, and he seemed about to refuse when the door behind Kitty slid open and an angry shout sounded. She glanced up to see another lawman reaching for his belt, and when her original captor lunged from his seat towards her she simply pulled the trigger, not bothering to look back.

  The cannon in her hand spattered a healthy portion of the man’s head onto the seat and floor behind him, and he fell past her without a sound. She dropped and went flat on her back behind the man, grabbing his shoulder and leaning him against herself as the new enemy opened fire. The corpse twitched and moved against her with each heavy slug it absorbed, and she shoved him off and stood once she counted six shots.

  Thumbing back the hammer on her own revolver, she stepped forward and raised the gun at the man in the doorway as he fumbled at his belt for more bullets. He was half the train car away, and Kitty’s reticule was swaying all over the area he stood in. She winced and fired anyway, the bullet pinging off the wall of the train beside him. He flinched away and dropped his own gun on the floor, drawing a long bladed skinning knife from his belt and rushing her with a roar. She pulled the trigger and scowled as nothing happened.

  The hammer. Dammit, she hated single action guns.

  “Ack!” It was more of a scared grunt as the man bore down on her. She fumbled at the hammer as he reached her and grabbed the gun, holding it up as he slashed at her belly. Her vision darkened dramatically, and the red line of health in the upper left of her peripherals pulsed as it drained to nothing. The larger orb throbbed as well and drained halfway, before holding at that level and pulsing with a blood drip icon beneath it. Her pain response also triggered, far more drastic than what she was used to in The Life. Kitty grabbed at his knife hand with her left, struggling against his greater strength to prevent another bloody line in her midsection.

  She fell over backwards with a pained grunt, letting his weight bear her down. He pulled back as they landed, trying to keep control over his knife. Kitty tilted her wrist and saw the reticule dance across his temple before she squeezed the trigger and splattered him across the bar.