Charlie sat by the gravestone, hugging his knees. Woof sat sadly beside his master, head bowed low.

He was devastated. If only he hadn't had the idea to go running around fighting crime in the first place, none of this would have happened. Of course, it didn't help that one of Grandpa Tims last suggestions had been to go out and save the day. Why did he listen to his Grandpa Tim? Why did he listen to the Begly blood in his veins, telling him that he was invincible and that nothing could stop him?

But you couldn't blame Grandpa Tim for this. Grandpa Charles had always followed Grandpa Tim, had always wanted to be like Grandpa Tim. Always wanted to be BETTER than Grandpa Tim. It had gotten him killed. A senseless, pointless death that proved nothing.

Grandpa Charles had been at war. He had so badly wanted the Howzat blood in Charles to win out against the Begly blood. To rebel against the Code and the Clause. As much as Grandpa Charles loved Grandpa Tim, he envied and hated him.

Charlie heard a noise and looked up. Joe Masters stood next to him, looking old and sad.

“I couldn't save him. Not this time.” He sighed sadly, tears falling from his eyes. “They were my brothers, and I was supposed to look out for them.”

Charlie could see even clearer now. It wasn't Tims approval that Charles was after – it was Joes. The big brother. The other vital ingredient in the Improbability Clause. The smart, strong one who always kept them out of trouble.

Charles had been jealous of the centuries old friendship between the two families.

“It wasn't your fault.” Charlie whispered.

“I know. But it will live with me forever.” Joe looked up to the cloudy sky above. The sudden crack of thunder barely registered in his psyche, but he knew it meant it was time to go home.

“Come on Charlie. We need to go.” He held out his hand to help the boy up.

“Oh Charles.” The old man thought as he looked back on his best friends grave one last time. “You meant just as much to me as Tim did.

“You were my brother too.”

–

That night, while the Masters and Begly families, along with their friends, celebrated the life of Charles Howzat, Master Revolver was stalking the streets of Pleasantville.

The empty alleyway was dark and foreboding. Master Revolver smirked as he walked down it. Pulling his pistol from his belt, he fired into a dark corner. A loud “TINK” reverberated throughout the air, and the gunman grinned.

“So you ARE here. Glad you could make it.” He sneered.

“Of course I'm here, I've been on pins and needles just salivating for your arrival.” A sarcastic female voice replied.

“Oh I bet you have.” Master Revolver leered. Mobster Marion might have been the leader of his most hated rivals, but she certainly was attractive!

Within a split second he found a sword at his throat. It was no where near as long nor as intimidating as the Lions Claw Blade, but it was at least sharp enough to tear out his throat.

“Don't you dare mock me gunslinger.” Mobster Marion warned. “Or I will kill you.”

“What, after you sent one of your helicopters to rescue me? I was very touched by the way.” Master Revolver shrugged the blade off. “Not as fine as what you're used to wielding is it?”

“Neither is that little pistol you're waving around.” Mobster Marion glared at the pathetic little gun in the Gangsters hand. “However, it will make cutting you down all the easier.”

“Heh heh heh...you're on.” Master Revolver fired his gun, barely missing the Mobster who dodged quickly. She retaliated with a quick jab of the sword, nicking Master Revolvers coat but leaving him relatively unscathed.

Master Revolver fired again, twice. The first bullet missed, but the second one nicked Mobster Marions hand. Enraged, Mobster Marion slashed upwards, leaving a nasty cut on Master Revolvers chest.

Both of them glared at each other. It was on.

Mobster Marion retreated again to the shadows. Master Revolver fumed. Even if he DID retreat to the shadows as well, the gun going off would alert her to his presence. Instead, he dropped to one knee.

“Giving up already? I'll make this quick then.” Mobster Marion thought. She jumped down from the dumpster she'd been standing on, and landed right on Master Revolvers fist!

The wind flew out of her as his fist sunk deeper into her stomach. He pointed the gun at her head, and was about to pull the trigger when the butt of her sword smacked him hard in the side of the head. They separated, both regaining their composure.

“Not bad gunslinger.” Mobster Marion spat, trying to catch her breath.

“You're pretty sharp yourself swords woman.” Master Revolver replied, clutching his sore head. Mobster Marion traced his hulking frame with her eyes, watching his powerful muscles tense and relax.

Both of them look up a fighting stance again. Their eyes locked, the tension rising.

Master Revolver started firing again, each bullet being dodged with ease. Mobster Marion easy got up close and swung her sword, narrowly missing Master Revolver.

Their faces were close. They could taste each others breath. Master Revolver caught her lips with his as she pushed up against him.

–

“So.” Mobster Marion traced the hairs on Master Revolvers chest two hours later in her bedroom.

“I think we have a deal.” Master Revolver cupped his hand around her face. “Together we'll fix those Knights.”

“And we'll get back the Lucky Seven Gun and the Lions Claw Blade.”

“No wonder I've always liked you.”

“Everyone likes me.”

“So arrogant.”

“I have a right to be.”

Another kiss sealed the deal. The Death Valley Gang and the Mobsters of Misneach were no more. A far worse threat had been born of the union of the two most despised groups in the city.

Pleasantville now had to deal with the Death Valley Mobsters.