A Bandit Arrives

It was a bustling afternoon in the Western town of Shallowbrook as most residents found themselves in and around the local Saloon. Drinking, dancing, and merriment took place throughout the building in an almost picturesque way. However, the joyous atmosphere quickly came to a halt as the front doors slammed open.

Everyone in the room turned to see the source of the commotion, only to be struck by the sight of a strangely dressed woman standing in the doorway. She wore a white ten-gallon hat on her head, a tube top that displayed her toned abdomen, and a frilly skirt that exposed nearly the entirety of her legs. The sight of her might have been quite alluring, had she not been brandishing two pistols.

"Howdy! I hope everyone's having a wonderful night so far," She said with a serpentine grin, "Sadly, the festivities must end as you all turn over any valuables you have to me!"

The Saloon went silent as the patrons looked between each other curiously. None of them moved a muscle.

BANG!

The sound of a gun firing startled the entire building. The woman stood there, a smile on her face and her smoking gun aimed at the ceiling. Suddenly, the atmosphere of the room became a lot more tense.

"You wanna mess around with me?! I'm Mad Mandy McClour, the biggest and baddest bandit this side of the Mississippi. I've killed a hundred and fifty men and I'm looking to kill a few more!" she growled, "Now, either give me your stuff or my next bullet is going into one of you!"

A silent wave of panic passed through the room, and before cash, jewelry, and whatever other valuable objects the patrons had were lying at her feet.

"Hahaha!" she bellowed, stuffing the loot into a sack, "Thank you, all for your kindness!"

But as she collected her ill-gotten treasure...

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot thundered through the room once again taking the entire Saloon by surprise, especially Mandy, as her hat was knocked clean off her head.

"WHO DID THAT?!" she demanded, drawing her gun and searching the room in a fury.

"That would be me."

Far in the back of the Saloon sat a mustachioed man with his hand raised. He was alone at a small, rickety wooden table, empty except for a single whiskey bottle.