Vincent cursed and turned, not bothering to put his hands up as he faced a man he wished was anywhere else. “How long have you been waiting here, Spencer?” he said. It was the first time he had seen the other man in a long time, at least a month, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with him at all.

“Not too long, sweet little Sparks here was keeping me company,” Spencer answered. As per usual, he wore a thick mask the colour of Vincent’s skin. Most assumed that was what it was made of, but Vincent was one of the few who knew it was only made of cowhide. He was also the only person who knew for certain what was under the mask, having seen it many times, and was allowed to call him Spencer. “Hand over the loot, Vincent.”

He scoffed. “Or what? You’ll shoot? You’ve given me that threat far too many times for it to actually be believable,” he replied, raising an eyebrow at him. Spencer was the last person he wanted to see. He’d wanted to wait until he was back in town and had smoked the vireen so that he was able to gloat to the masked git that he was able to find some.

“I wouldn’t shoot you, no, you’re too much fun,” Spencer said and Vincent could hear him grinning under the mask. “Maybe Sparks, but I think I like her a whole lot more than I like you. Can’t have you shooting me over a horse. What a terrible way to die.”

“At least you know I’d shoot you if you touched my horse,” he replied and shot him a glare. “Why show up now of all times? Here I was thinking I wouldn’t have to bother with you anymore.”

Spencer scoffed. “If I knew you missed me so much I would have come to see you a while ago,” he replied, dramatically running a hand through his thick hair. “No, I had trouble with the cops. On the run again.”

“Wow, what a surprise.”

“You can’t say anything, you’ve been in the exact same position before,” Spencer said, glaring at him. “But it’s left me with nothing, so guess who the lucky person is who gets to give me some vireen, maybe even some money.”

Vincent sighed. Dealing with Spencer was usually more effort than it was worth and he was too exhausted for it. “There’s barely enough for one person, let alone two,” he said.

“Who said I was sharing?”

He’d known it would happen, but he was still too slow to dodge the butt of the gun swinging towards his face. In the split second before the pain hit, he realised that Spencer had smoked vireen before confronting him, probably the last of his stash, just to make sure he would get the meagre scraps of a robbery with minimal effort. It wasn’t the first time one of them had stolen from the other after all.

The pain in his temple sent him stumbling. With one hand braced against a tree, he fumbled for his gun, only to have it knocked out of his hands. “You prick,” he snarled, wiping blood away from his eyes. “You’re not taking this from me.”

“Too bad,” Spencer said with a laugh. Vincent’s vision was blurry from the pain, but he could still see the brown knapsack dangling from Spencer’s hand. “I already have. You’re lucky I don’t take the horse. I like you too much to do that.”

“Bullshit,” Vincent hissed, reaching out for the bag. With a laugh, Spencer took a step back and let Vincent stumble onto the grass again.

He could feel Spencer staring at him through his stupid mask, but didn’t look up at him. He didn’t want to see the satisfaction in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time it had happened and it wasn’t going to be the last, but after what had happened back at the carriage, it only put him more on edge. How many times had they done this? How many times had they stolen from each other in the dead of night or burst in on each other robberies to take the goods before the other could? It was nothing new, but just as irritating as ever.

With a deep breath, he jumped from the grass and tackled Spencer to the ground. The bag went flying, but for the moment, that wasn’t what Vincent wanted to focus on. He punched Spencer in the jaw, not hard enough for it to break, but hard enough for an awful bruise to mar the skin under the mask.

He would have done more if there hadn’t been a knife pressed against his throat. Baring his teeth, he sat back, looking down his nose at the boy on the grass below him. Spencer might be a year younger than him, but on vireen, he was far stronger. As was his blade, which was awash with pink-white magic, flowing like water. Without vireen, Vincent couldn’t produce anything like it and had no hope of getting his loot back.

“Didn’t think you would go so far,” he said. Behind him, Sparks neighed, but didn’t seem to care that much that he had a blade to his throat. The magic made by the vireen was like razor-sharp water, allowing Spencer to cut through anything with ease, including his throat. It wasn’t often that they went all out, that they were completely serious about stealing from each other. Spencer especially found it amusing, but after what had happened at the carriage and the fact that neither of them had what they needed anymore, there wasn’t room for jokes.

“You’re not the only one who’s desperate, Vincent,” Spencer said, standing from the grass and brushing off his grey waistcoat.

Spencer grabbed the bag from where it landed and dug through its contents. For a long time, there was silence and Vincent took the chance to stand and brush himself off. There was no getting it back, not if Spencer was going to use the full extent of vireen just for him. Maybe he should feel honoured, but he didn’t, just infuriated.

Something hit him in the chest, small and light. The necklace he had taken off the woman. “Use this to buy some food,” Spencer said, towering over him. “You were right, there’s barely anything in here.”

“Then why take it?”

“Because I want it,” Spencer replied and once again, Vincent could hear the smile in his voice. “It was nice seeing you, Vince. Til next time.”

Then he was gone, leaving Vincent and Sparks to stand in the middle of the field, the tiny necklace clutched between his fingers. At least this time he had been left with something. Back and forth they went until they annoyed each other more than the townsfolk. Six years they had been at it, six years of fights and scars and blood.

He had nothing on him. All his effort waiting and attacking the carriage had gone to waste, even the spare clothes that had been in the bag were gone. He should have known that he would run into Spencer again, he never had been a lucky person, but he had hoped that he would at least be able to feed himself. That was going to happen for a little while.

“Prick,” Vincent muttered as he climbed onto Sparks’ back, ignoring the way his vision swam. He had to stick to the original plan, head towards New Feridian and pray that he found someone else to rob on the way for vireen. Hopefully, if he was lucky, Spencer wouldn’t follow him. But if there was one thing he had learned in the seven years of being a criminal, it was that he was never going to be rid of Spencer Bowers.