Hearing her own name, Consuelo's heart sank. The outlaw leader knew exactly who she was. This was no random robbery. She was the target. There was no escape.
At that same moment, at both ends of Henry's car, the doors burst open and six outlaws charged in. They were met with a strange sight: all the partitions were gone, the car a single, long corridor, with a lone, tall figure standing in the center. It was the last thing they ever saw.
Henry had already activated his Super Reflexes. His hands were a blur, a whirlwind of motion, sending twelve throwing knives flying as if from a repeating crossbow. In less than half a second, all six men collapsed, two knives buried in each of their throats.
He used a grey pearl to reset his talent. "Richard, Pete, secure their weapons," he ordered.
He then leaped to the next car, a dagger in each hand, activating his talent again. The three outlaws inside had no time to react. In a flash of steel, he slit their throats and pierced their hearts.
"I am Sheriff Henry," he announced to the terrified passengers. "Take their weapons and protect yourselves."
He used another grey pearl, then stormed back into his own car. "The outlaws in the next car are dead," he called out as he passed. "Arm yourselves. I'm going to deal with the rest of them. This will be over soon!"
The banker George, the rancher William, and the lawyer Carlson all scrambled to retrieve the rifles and pistols from the dead outlaws.
"Everyone get down!" Henry yelled as he charged into the next car, the one that had been shredded by the Gatling gun.
He activated his talent again. His daggers sliced through the necks of the two outlaws on his left and right, then he lunged forward, plunging a blade into the heart of the man in front of him. His arms then whipped out, sending six throwing knives flying down the length of the car. The entire sequence took less than a second.
In that moment, Henry felt as if he were beloved by time itself. For every one second that passed for the world, he experienced five or six.
All the outlaws in the car were dead. He used another pearl, picked up a Winchester, and jumped from the train. He raised the rifle and, in three seconds, fired six shots, killing the six remaining men of the Gatling gun crew on the hill.
The other outlaws on the ground finally reacted, opening fire on him.
He ducked back into the train for cover, then emerged again, two Colt 1878s in his hands, his reflexes once more accelerated. He returned fire, his preternatural senses telling him who would shoot first, who was the greatest threat.
The air filled with a deafening, continuous roar as his bullets found their marks, a spiderweb of death connecting him to his targets. In a little over a second, the eighteen outlaws within fifty meters of him were all dead. He fired the last six rounds from his pistols, and six more fell.
He did a quick tally. Four men left at the locomotive, two on the hill, and fifteen in the other three Pullman cars. The exchange had cost him twelve white pearl husks.
He swapped to two fresh revolvers and, in half a second, killed the four remaining men within his range. He holstered the pistols and raised the Winchester. Two more shots, and the last of the Gatling gun crew was dead. He then turned his attention to the four men at the locomotive, 360 meters away.
They were former Confederate sharpshooters, and they returned fire with a practiced skill. But they were no match for him. Six seconds and thirteen rounds later, they too were all dead. Two more of his white pearl husks had shattered.
Just then, nine more outlaws, realizing something was wrong, jumped from the other two cars.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
In one second, they were all down.
Henry used one final grey pearl to restore his health.
In Consuelo's private car, the six outlaw leaders had stopped their brutalization of the passengers. They had heard the insane firefight erupt outside, a continuous roar of gunfire that was far too one-sided.
Now, half a minute later, there was only a dead, suffocating silence.
The dozen hostages, who had been on the verge of despair, now looked at each other with a wild, dawning hope.