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The Stellaron Hunter Gang, the notorious, violent, and vicious sons-of-bitches, were on their way to rob the Penacony bank. And the Astral Express crew was ready to stop them.
The Hunters, led by the elusive Elio, have never been captured, caught, or killed even once, thanks to their leader’s alleged ability to see the future. Until now–thanks to the Astral Express!
“Um, Stelle? Do you think you could keep your monologue down? I’m trying to sleep here…”
The pink haired girl waves nonchalantly in the direction of her friend’s voice, which, to her annoyance, became much, much, louder than before.
“March, don’t you get it? This is our big break! We catch the Hunters, we win a shit-ton of cash! Just imagine what we can do their rewards-”
“Stelle,” Welt scolded from his chair in the corner of the train car, “We’re doing this for the good of the communities they steal from. Not for the money.”
“...It’s a pretty good bonus, though,” the gray-haired gunner admits.
The Astral Express crew, led by Welt and Himeko, travel on the eponymous Astral Express, a train that runs on no rails and traverses across the stars… if the stars were the midwest of whatever country they were in (Stelle never really paid attention to Welt’s geography lessons). After fixing up the mechanically marvelous train in the middle of nowhere, Himeko gathered her crew:
Welt Yang, the Express’s resident intellectual on all things not technology. While he may not be the fastest shooter, he certainly is the sharpest–able to hit a pigeon straight out of the sky. At 40 miles an hour. From 100 yards away. While the feat was quite impressive, the ever humble “Hundred Yard Yang” always said that it was never a big deal.
Dan Heng is a man of mystery, showing up on the Express one day with Welt and Himeko with only his name and a six-shooter. But his skills speak for themselves, maintaining a proper balance between speed and accuracy when it comes to using his hand-modified revolver. Where he really shines, at least to him, is in the books of the Express, managing the entire crew’s salaries and taxes. But despite his financial occupation, “Debt Collector Dan Heng” is still very much a deadly shooter, and a force to be reckoned with (if you haven’t reported your earnings, that is).
March 7th is another mystery, with a body temperature colder than ice and a heart as warm as fire. Unlike the rest of the Express, she prefers to use a bow when she’s shooting down bad guys, since the gunpowder would stain her “lady-like smell.” How she maintains that smell on a smog-filled, coal-chugging train, no one has a clue, even to this day. Despite using an outdated weapon, her efficiency with it is second to none, silently (and fashionably) taking down foes–even skewering two of them with a single arrow at one point. It was then that “Two-Man March” was born.
(“Hey! I told you to quit calling me that! ‘Two-Man’ sounds so gross!”
“...Your complaint has been noted.”
“Like hell it has, get over here!-”)
Himeko is less mysterious than the past two entries, her intellect with all things machinery known far and wide. How could it not—the Express was known to be nigh unrepairable, until a redhead from the north came down and fixed it up. But to the Express, her abysmally bitter coffee is more famous, killing the taste buds of anyone’s tongue that enters within an inch of the drink. But Himeko’s personal weapon, the “Durandal”, is a killer to the Express’s enemies. It’s a custom-made repeating shotgun, capable of shooting incendiary shells at speeds that could set a forest ablaze. Let this image be a message to anyone on the wrong side of “Red-Hot Himeko”’s barrel.
Stelle—a name that the Express crew adores, her enemies fear, and to everyone else: a legend. With a draw so fast her holster never not smells like burnt leather, Stelle can shoot down scores of people with nothing but some ammo and her two signature guns: twin Single Action Army revolvers, one named “Trash” and the other, “Trash 2”. Sometimes, she can’t tell the difference between the two. Their names don’t matter, however, when they’re taking down enemies left, right and center. With six enemies and six shots, you better believe that “Six Shot Stelle” is taking them down—one bullet at a time.
“Wouldn’t it be ‘Twelve Shot Stelle’ since you use two guns?” March points out.
“H-Hey! It just sounds better, alright!” Stelle shoots back.
“Why don’t you just load your guns three bullets each every time then? Then you’d be ‘Six Shot Stelle’-”
“A title doesn’t have to be accurate—it just has to sound cool.”
“Then stop calling me ‘Two-Man March’!”
“But what other title sounds cool that starts with ‘m’?”
“Enough, you two,” Welt scolded. “We’re here.”
The argument ended with March sticking out her tongue while Stelle pointed a middle finger.
The train came to a stop on the outskirts of the town of Penacony a few minutes later, and the crew exited the train with their guns at their sides and their hats on display. Welt opted for a tophat—ever a gentleman, Himeko topped her outfit off with a bowler cap that Stelle knows is hiding another gun, Dan Heng wore a wide brimmed black hat with jade-colored trimmings, Stelle had an unnecessarily complicated (and expensive) gold-trimmed fedora with a blue feather stuck on top.
March didn’t have a hat. She wasn’t jealous. Not at all.
“Remember,” Himeko urged, “We’re here to investigate the Stellaron Hunters’ activity, not engage. If you see them—find one of us immediately.”
“Yes ma’am!” Stelle saluted.
“Ansh I said—clocker? I bawrelh new her! HAHAHAHA!”
As soon as the crew was left to their own devices, Stelle headed straight for the bar in the center of town for a sip of Penacony’s famous Soulglad Beer. And maybe a whole bottle. Or two. Or three.
“WOOOOOOOOOOO! I’M TEH FHING QuEEN!”
…Or four.
The other customers of the bar look on at Stelle with disgust, annoyed at her loud demeanor. The bartender, on the other hand, seemed to be rather happy with the money she’s spending, though.
“Done already? Here, have another!”
A gruff, bearded bartender slams a fifth bottle on the counter after Stelle finishes her fourth, and the other customers at the bar all flee in fear of what the stranger would accomplish with a fifth bottle of SoulGlad. All their fears are disparaged, thankfully, with the entrance of the bar’s second bartender, who takes the bottle off the counter.
“Gallagher, what did I say about cutting our guests off?”
“Siobhan! Let me introduce you to Stelle-”
“Can’t you tell that she’s had too much to drink? She’s bothering our other guests.”
“Aw come on! She’s not that bad, just gets a little excited!”
The other bar-goers groan as Stelle throws one of her empty bottles behind her.
“Galla… Gall… Bartender! Another, if you will!” Stelle shouts, and some of the bar’s customers quickly move to leave upon hearing that the drunk was about to get even drunker. But as some customers filed out of the bar’s swinging doors, a lone lady strutted inside, her sterling hair clashing against her beautiful blue dress. Upon spotting the rowdy woman of the Express, a small gasp was released, followed by a plotting smile.
“Let me pay for that,” the mystery woman offered.
“...The drinks, or the mess?” a cautious Siobhan asked.
“Both.”
The woman pulled out a wallet that seemed to be stuffed to the brim with banknotes.
“Ha! You’re a lucky lady, Stelle! Siobhan here would have ran your wallet dry with the mess you made-”
A swift smack was landed on Gallagher’s head by an irritated Siobhan.
“Clean her mess up. She’s your ‘guest’, right? And you–”
As Gallagher rubs the back of his head and heads towards the broom resting on the other side of the bar, the other bartender looks at the silver-haired stranger.
“Take your friend out of here. She can’t get anywhere by herself like that.”
“Ba na na na…” Stelle muttered with her head laid on the counter, her hat sitting on the stool next to her. The stranger picks up the hat and fits it neatly onto Stelle’s head, then picks up one of her arms and slings it over her shoulders.
“Alright, let’s go.”
“Wha… Who are you..?”
“A stranger.”
“No! Like… what’s your name!”
“Firefly. Nice to meet you, Stelle.”
“...Hey! I didn’t tell you my name!”
“I heard it from the bartenders.”
As Stelle looked at the stranger that was helping her out of the bar, she noticed that, despite her vision being blurred from the four bottles of SoulGlad, the woman was exceptionally beautiful–her warm smile and sunset-colored eyes enrapturing Stelle into a trance, and combined with her drunkenness, she couldn’t hold back the next words coming oht of her mouth:
“You’re really pretty.”
Firefly stops in her tracks, nearly dropping the drunk woman onto the floor. The comment took her by surprise, but she regained herself as she helped Stelle through the swinging doors and onto the street.
“...Thank you, Stelle. That’s very kind of you.”
“Nuh uh! You’re the kind one~!”
“...I’m not.”
“Really? But you’re taking care of lil’ ol’ me! If that’s not kind-”
“I’m not kind.”
The soft spoken, kind voice disappears for a moment, and even the inebriated Stelle knows not to push any further.
“...Sorry,” Stelle mutters.
“It’s alright. Let’s get you home.”
The rest of the walk is silent–a miracle considering Stelle’s typical drunken antics. Having a pretty woman carry you on her arm does that to you, it seems.
Stelle looks over at Firefly and sees a somber frown, different from the kind smile that picked her off of the bar stool and carried her across the street. But when Firefly notices Stelle staring, she quickly returns her face to the caring, warm facade.
The gunslinger feels her chest tighten.
But she has no time to ask about Firefly’s hidden worries as the pair find themselves in an alleyway, tucked between two nondescript buildings.
“Woah… are we gonna make out now?” Stelle asks as Firefly takes her off of her arm.
“Something like that. Turn around.”
“Hehe… yes-”
SMACK
As the gunslinger turned, a swift and heavy blow was delivered to the back of her head, sending the already dazed woman into a stupor. Stelle falls to the floor, her vision blurring.
“Ugh…what…”
An unfamiliar whistle and the clicking of Firefly’s shoes are the last thing that Stelle hears before her vision goes dark.
When Stelle woke up, she noticed two things:
One, she had a killer hangover.
Two, her hands were bound with rope behind her back, and she had been stripped of her guns. Looking around, there was little else in the tiny room other than a wooden table with her belongings and a lit candle, a chair, and a man with a shotgun pointed at her-
“GAH!”
“Talk. What is the Express doing in Penacony?”
A deep, threatening voice rasped from beneath the man’s sinister metal mask that covered his entire face in steel, save for three open slits, presumably for seeing, smelling, and breathing. The familiar steel mask told Stelle that the man in front of her was “Molten Knight” Sam, one of the Stellaron Hunters known for his draw speed so fast, it melts the holster right off of his belt every time.
“Sam. Where’s Firefly? Let me go!”
“Firefly isn’t here.”
“Where is she? What did you do to her?!”
“She betrayed you, and you’re worried for her safety? How admirable.”
“Y-You probably made her do that! Now tell me-”
“She’s fine. Promise.”
“Like I’d trust a criminal.”
“Want me to bring her in here and shoot her?”
Stelle raged against her bindings, the rope digging into her skin.
“Don’t you fucking hurt her-”
“Then tell me what the Express is doing in Penacony.”
Sam raised his shotgun, and Stelle bit her tongue. Betraying the Express was never an option, even if she was faced with death. But it wasn’t her life, but Firefly’s that hung in the balance. But if Firefly really was working with the Hunters… was her life even worth saving?
Yes, Stelle thought. Every life is worth saving. I’ll just have to explain things later…
“...We’re here to put a stop to your plans to rob the Penacony bank,” Stelle said. “That’s all I know.”
“Really? And how do you plan to do that?”
“...Are you stupid? I said that’s all I know.”
“...”
Sam lowered his shotgun and rested it on the wall, then took a seat on the chair by the table.
“My associates are coming here soon. Sit tight.”
“...Not like I can go anywhere.”
A few minutes pass by awkwardly, and Stelle’s anger turns into awkwardness. She’d been captured before, but usually the bad guys left her alone after a few minutes, giving her the opportunity to hatch an escape plan. But Sam stayed in his chair, in a room where the walls weren’t even eight feet away from each other, staring straight at Stelle.
“...You can talk, you know?” Stelle says.
“I don’t talk.”
“You just did.”
“You-”
“You just did–again.” “Shut up.”
An increasing restlessness gathered in Sam’s leg, causing it to bounce. Stelle’s mouth curled into a smirk.
“Alright, alright. Oh, just asking, does Firefly have a lover?”
Surprisingly, the “Molten Knight” seems to look away at the question. He doesn’t notice Stelle beginning to shift her unbound legs.
“S-She didn’t say,” Sam answered.
“Ooh, what’s with that reaction? Do you liiike her-”
“No. Shut up.”
“Really? Really, really?”
“I said shut-”
As Sam finally turned back to his captive, his gut was struck by the mighty fists of “Six-Shot” Stelle, her hands free. The Stellaron Hunter barely had any time to react as a gun was picked off the table and pointed straight at his chest.
“...How’d you free your hands?” he asked.
“You didn’t find the knife in my boot. Shame on you.”
“Are you going to kill me now?”
Stelle thought about it briefly, but decided that it would be better to let Sam live than to draw the ire of the Stellaron Hunters.
…And she was really curious about what Sam looked like.
“...I’d rather find out who’s behind this mask…”
“Hey, w-wait-”
Sam’s protests go unheard as a hand reaches behind his head and removes the strap, revealing the hunter’s face.
Sunset-colored eyes.
Silver hair.
And a scowl befitting an outlaw.
“...Firefly?”
“...Tch.”
Stelle’s heart stops. The woman that helped her out of the bar, smiled at her like the sun–she was Sam.
“W-What the…”
Stelle’s hesitation does not go unnoticed by Firefly, who quickly knocks the gun out of “Six-Shot”’s hands and shoves her away. The Stellaron Hunter attempts to draw her pistol, but the struggle makes draw speed much slower than normal. Her arm gets grabbed right before it reaches the weapon, and leg sweeps under her feet and sends her falling to the ground. Firefly tries to get up, but Stelle straddles her stomach. Eyes burning with determination, Firefly attempts to swing at the girl on top of her, but Stelle grabs the wild swings and pins both arms to the floor, immobilizing her.
“Argh–Let me go!” Firefly yells. “Not… not until you tell me what the Stellaron Hunters are planning.”
Stelle’s tired, Firefly notices. Her breathing is heavy, but the grip on her arms is tight. If Firefly fights back, she’d probably win.
But Stelle’s hardened glare softens, and the switch convinces her to hold back–just for a little bit.
“Well?” Stelle asks again. “What are the Hunters-”
“You think I’d tell you?”
“Who’s on top?”
Stelle’s grip on the outlaw’s wrists gets tighter. How cute, Firefly thinks.
“Having a girl on top might make you crack, but not me.”
“Wh–No it wouldn’t!”
“Wanna try?”
“Yes–I mean, no! Stop confusing me!”
“...You haven’t done something like this before, have you?”
“...Have you?”
“Not without my mask on. And I’m usually on top.”
“C-Can you stop saying it like that?”
“Like what?”
“L-Like we’re… you know!”
“You really haven’t done this before.”
“H-How do you know?”
“For starters, I could’ve gotten on top at least three times by now.”
“What the hell are you talking about? And stop saying-”
“Make that four.”
“You’re frustrating, you know that?”
“And you’re out of breath. Am I making you nervous?”
Stelle’s grip loosens. Firefly grins.
“That’s five now.”
“Y-You..!”
Stelle searches for an insult to hurl at the girl beneath her, but words escape her. Instead, a question slips from her lips.
“…You’ve had five chances. Why didn’t you take any?”
“Simple. You looked interesting.”
“I could say the same for you.”
“Oh? How so?”
“...You’re not as bad as you say you are.”
Firefly raises an eyebrow.
“...What do you mean?”
“You paid for my drinks! That’s something, right?”
“...Is that it?”
“Well, you also helped me out of the bar.”
“So I could kidnap you.”
“Still–you helped me.”
The outlaw couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could a member of the Astral Express, the organization that Elio said was their greatest enemy, be so gullible? Firefly thought it was just a trick, but the honesty in Stelle’s eyes said otherwise.
“I’ve killed people for the Stellaron Hunters, and you still think I’m a good person?”
“I never said you were a great person,” Stelle compromises, “But when I said you’re kind, you just looked so… sad.”
…Firefly has had enough of this pity. She flipped Stelle over, slamming her back to the ground and switching their positions so that the outlaw was atop the gunslinger. Stelle’s wrists were bound once again, by a pretty lady’s powerful hands rather than rope.
“Ow–I thought we were having a momen-”
“Shut up. You don’t know anything about me-”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Firefly.”
Stelle shoots a wink, and Firefly hates how it pierces her heart like it did.
“...I-”
Just as Firefly was about to respond, the door to the small room opens, revealing a ponytailed bombardier known as “Singed” Silver Wolf, the Stellaron Hunters’ explosives expert.
“Sam, we gotta go, the Express is-”
Silver Wolf pauses as she takes stock of what’s in the room.
Cut rope on the floor. Table a bit askew. Chair knocked over. Guns spilled all over the place. And of course, her fellow gang member was on top of one of the crew’s greatest enemies.
Silver Wolf lets out a cough and kicks some dust on the floor. “Uh… Sorry for interrupting.”
The door quickly closes, and before Firefly can explain things, Stelle takes advantage of the distraction to knock the “Molten Knight” off of her lap and grabs her guns off the floor.
“H-Hey!” the outlaw exclaims.
“Sorry, pretty lady! I gotta go help out my friends. But… let’s continue this talk another time, alright?”
As Stelle exits the door, Firefly reaches for the pistol on her waist, but stops just before the door closes. She curses herself, then gets up from the floor. While “Six-Shot” Stelle was late to the shootout between the Stellaron Hunters and the Astral Express, “Molten Knight” Sam was much later. Sam said it was a dropped mask that caused it–but only Firefly knows that it was the five minutes to calm her racing heart that made her so late.