The town of Redrock wasn't much to look at. A collection of wooden shacks, a saloon with a creaky sign that squeaked in the wind, and a handful of worn-out horses tied to posts—nothing about it said anything special. It was just another dot on the map in the vast, dusty expanse of the West. A place where lawlessness ruled, and folks either survived by their wits or didn't survive at all.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the town's single street. The only sound to be heard was the wind, dry and unyielding, sweeping through the dirt like a living thing. In the saloon, the usual crowd of rowdy gamblers and drifters were nursing their whiskey, passing time, and betting their luck. It was just another ordinary day... until Jesse McGraw walked through the swinging doors.
Jesse "The Bull" McGraw had the kind of presence that made even the toughest men think twice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a face weathered by years of sun and hard living. His deep-set eyes were the color of storm clouds, and they flicked over the room with a calm, predatory intelligence. His spurs jingled with every step, the sound almost too loud in the silence that fell when he entered.
Behind him, his crew followed—Maggie O'Connell, Clint Tallman, Darla Blackwood, and Zeke Rhodes. Maggie was the first to speak, as always, her voice loud and biting. "Alright, folks, you can stop staring now," she said, flashing a grin that could disarm a man twice her size. "We're just here for a little business. Nothing to get your feathers ruffled over."
The rest of the crew didn't bother with small talk. Clint, tall and lanky with a perpetual squint in his eyes, just nodded as he took a seat at the bar. Darla, who was always a few steps ahead of everyone else, slid into a corner booth, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Zeke, ever the silent one, took a seat near the door, his tarot cards already in hand, flipping them over one by one as if the answers to the world's mysteries lay within them.
Jesse stepped up to the bar, his hand brushing across the polished wood as he nodded to the bartender. "Whiskey. Straight."
The bartender, an old man with a thick beard and a permanent frown, slid a glass down the bar to him. Jesse took it without a word, tipping his hat back to study the glass for a moment before taking a long, deliberate sip.
"Well, now," the bartender said, polishing a glass with a rag. "Ain't often we get your kind around here, McGraw."
Jesse grinned, a flicker of humor in his stormy eyes. "I reckon that's because I've got a way of keeping people on their toes. Makes things interesting."
Maggie rolled her eyes from across the room. "You mean you've got a way of stealing people's money and making a mess of things. Nothing too interesting about that, Jesse."
Jesse ignored her, his mind already elsewhere. They were here for a reason, after all. And it wasn't just the whiskey.
His eyes flicked toward the back of the saloon, where a poker game was underway. Two men sat at the table, hunched over their cards, sweat beading on their foreheads. One of them was a local banker, and the other was a rough-looking outlaw Jesse had seen around before. The two were in the middle of a heated argument, but Jesse knew it wasn't about the game—it was about something far more valuable.
Maggie, catching his eye, leaned in from her seat at the bar. "What's the plan, Jesse?"
He flashed her a sly grin. "We're here for a little job. Something simple. Nothing you'll need to get all worked up about."
"Simple?" Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Last time you said 'simple,' I ended up shooting three men and setting half the town on fire."
"That's because you can't follow directions," Jesse teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "This time, we're sticking to the basics."
Zeke, who had been silently flipping his tarot cards, looked up, his face unreadable. "The cards are saying there's danger. A lot of danger."
Jesse didn't flinch. "There's always danger."
Clint leaned forward from the bar. "So what exactly are we after this time?"
Jesse took another slow sip from his glass, savoring the burn. "There's a shipment in that bank. The one they've been expecting for weeks. It's not much, but I've got a feeling there's something they've been keeping under wraps. A little something special."
Maggie chuckled. "You mean, we're robbing a bank for a shipment no one's seen? You've got a lot of faith in your instincts, Jesse."
"That's what keeps me alive," Jesse replied, setting his glass down. "And it's the reason we're going to walk out of there with what's rightfully ours."
Maggie stood up, her hand brushing against the handle of her revolver. "I'll go in first. I'll draw some attention, stir up some trouble."
"Don't stir too much," Jesse warned. "We need the people to be distracted, not out for blood."
Maggie grinned, and for a moment, there was something dangerous in her smile. "You know I'll handle it, Jesse."
Jesse turned to Clint and Zeke. "You two stay on the outside. We'll need a way out fast when things go south. And Darla—keep an eye on the back. If anyone tries to get cute, you know what to do."
Darla nodded once, her eyes sharp as knives. She had a way of disappearing when no one was looking, and that could be useful if things turned ugly.
The plan was simple—at least, as simple as things ever got with Jesse McGraw. They'd rob the bank, take whatever they could get their hands on, and disappear into the night. No bloodshed, no unnecessary mess. But deep down, Jesse knew better. Nothing ever went according to plan when you were dealing with outlaws, curses, or magic.
Jesse checked his revolver, making sure it was ready. "Alright, folks, let's make this quick and easy."
The crew filed out of the saloon in near-perfect unison, moving with the kind of efficiency that only comes from years of working together. The town of Redrock was quiet once again, but Jesse could feel the tension rising. He had a sense—a gut feeling—that something was about to go horribly wrong. But what did he care? He was an outlaw. A man of action, not hesitation.
As they made their way to the bank, the old sheriff of Redrock appeared at the far end of the street, his hand resting on the handle of his holstered gun. He didn't speak, but the warning was clear—Jesse McGraw was about to stir up trouble in a town that had no room for it.
But Jesse wasn't worried. Not yet. Not until the doors of the bank opened and they walked into the unknown.
The sound of the door creaking open echoed in the street. Jesse stepped forward, and the world went silent.
Inside, a simple robbery was about to become something far worse.