Hey it's me again! So the last story was fun. This one is slightly better I think. Enjoy! You guys are beautiful! I love it!


"No no no no no!", cried Machiavelli the immortal Italian. "Let me go! I don't want to go shooting!"

"Oh, stop struggling will you? Come on!", urged Billy the Kid, "It's gonna be fun!"

The tall Italian struggles to break free of the American immortal's vise-like grip, but it seems that the scrawny cowboy has more strength in him than anybody thought. Even so, he sill resists even as Billy drags him into the shooting range, the noise of bullets against metal ringing out from inside.

Once inside, they took positions in front of the targets resembling human torsos. "Here, put these on." Billy hands Mac some professional grade headphones and goggles.

"Now just hold up your gun. Come on, now."

Mac glanced briefly at Billy before reluctantly raising up his gun in a shaky two-handed grip. "Is this good enough?"

Billy shakes his head in dismay. The western American cowboy is dressed in a iconic t-shirt with the words "Killing it!", wide brimmed coyboy hat and beaten leather boots. The more sophisticated Italian, according to himself at least, is dressed in an expesive gray cashmire suite with cotton shirt and narrow black tie. Billy is younger with a slight build, while Mac is taller with an average build, and looks visibly older with close cut snowy white hair.

"Nah, you're doing it wrong, Mac. Here." Billy slips his arms from behind Machiavelli and holds his hands in both of his, helping him to ease the gun in place.

"This feels disturbingly akward", remarked the Italian, finding himself in the usually feminine passive position. "When can I shoot then?"

"Just relax, Mac, take it easy!"said Billy firmly. "Damn it, I can feel you sweating through your shirt!"

"Well I'm sorry, but I've never used a gun before, Mr. I'm-a-wanted-outlaw!"

Billy grinned slightly at his friend's ignorance. Keeping a serious tone, he said, "Don't worry, it's just like shooting blasts of energy balls or whatever. Ok so aim carefully."

With Billy's help, Machiavelli adjusts the gun and points towards the target. Cautiously pressing the trigger, Mac fires a bullet...and then another...and then another...and another...and another...take cover! Metal and shells pinged off walls, bounced against the ground and richocheied off the ceiling as Machiavelli let loose a deadly storm of bullets.

Billy immediately took hold of the gun to cease its fire. "Woah! Woah! Woah! Stop shooting Mac, that's enough! Damn!"

"Did I hit the target?", asked Mac hoarsely, opening one eye.

Billy laugh, but there is no humor in it. He points to all the damage done around the target and replied, "Target? You've hit everything else BUT the target! Oh, that was the worst shooting I've ever seen in my life." He added softly to himself.

"What did you say?!", demanded the Italian.

"Nah, it was nothing", reassured Billy, "Now watch how I do it." The cowboy firmly takes his stance, and focuses on the target, his eyes becoming somewhat mistly with concentration. His fingers slowly worked their way down to his waist, gently brushing against his pistols.

"Any day now, thank you very much", said an annoyed Machiavelli while impatiently tapping his foot.

"Shhh! You're killing my vibe!" snapped back Billy without turning to look at him. Then as swift as lightening, Billy flipped out his pistols and fired to shots in quick succession, before ultimately tucking them back in their holsters again. The two bullets hit the target squarely in the middle, their holes so close together, that you might think it was only one shot taken.

Billy brought the barrel of his pistol to his mouth and blew on it triumphantly. He then casually turn to look at the Italian, whose mouth is gaping in awe with a frozen expression of shock on his face.

Billy bit his bottm lip to keep himself from laughing out loud. "OK, Mac, it's your turn now. Take it easy this time, chill out."

Machiavelli shook his head slowly and gazed at the cowboy. "You gun-slinging devil! How the hell did you do that?"

Billy just shrug modestly and said, "I don't know...practice I guess."

Machiavelly sighs heavily and crossed his arms in defiance. "I don't know why anybody need to use a gun! Back in my day, when someone wants to kill you, they would do it up close and personal with swords."

"That was different", pointed out Billy. "Fighting with guns was "up close and personal" for us in the west. There were hardly any laws. If you didn't have a gun, you were basically a dead man." That last sentence made a chill run down Mac's spine.

Then Billy smiled and said, "Give it another try, Mac. You can do it."

"If you say so", muttered Machiavelli as he hold up the gun once more. Briefly closing his eyes, he exhaled and relaxed. Carefully taking aim, he press the trigger and fired. Bullseye! "I...I did it! I did it! I learned how to shoot!" The Italian became speechless as stood their smiling like an idiot.

"Yeeehaw!" cried Billy. "Good work, partner'!" He pats Machiavelli on the back, causing his to release his grip on the gun.

The gun dropped on to the floor, and accidentally released a shot upon impact. The bullet struck Billy in the lef just below the knee. Almost immediately, the American immortal collapsed to the ground. He held on to his injured leg as he rolled painfully on the ground, tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

"Billy!" Machiavelli drops on his knees beside the wounded cowboy. "Are you alright?!"

"Damn it, you Italian! I never want to go shooting with you ever again!", yelled Billy, the pain of his le making him wince.

The Italian immortal's face lit up with a consious grin, "Ah, that's just what I wanted to hear." He then fished his phone out of his pocket and began calling emergency 911. "In case you've forgotten, you're immortal for Christ's sake, Billy!"

The End

That's the end of that story! Yeah I know, it's a little choppy. You get what you get. Please review, all you awesome people out there! BRB :)