Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The town of Red Rock Ridge was a generally quiet one. The citizens went about their monotonous days peacefully. The most that really ever happened were drunken bar fights over petty things. That’s when the townsfolk called on Sheriff Smii7y to help break it up. That is, if he wasn’t already at the saloon. Fights broke out frequently enough that he often spent his nights parked in the same chair in the corner should he be needed. Smii7y supposed he would’ve found himself at the bar anyway even if there hadn’t been as many incidents as there were.

The atmosphere was quite nice in the Red Rock Saloon minus the occasional disturbances. There was always some sort of band playing. Or a solo instrument act. And sometimes there was just a singer without any backups. It varied every once in a while but it was good music all the same. There was this one traveler who rarely came and was always carting around a harp. It didn’t fit the ambiance of the saloon at all, but he played it really well. Smii7y was willing to overlook the jarring shift in the vibe for him and him only. He should really ask for his name so he could properly compliment the lad.

Smii7y was friendly with everyone. His laid-back disposition made him so approachable. He always tipped his hat politely at anyone who greeted him. A few of the bar regulars would invite him over to play cards, or perhaps checkers or chess. It was never for real money though, they had the Crystal Palace Casino for that. Sometimes people would approach him to chat, but no one did so more than Kitty. Though the town didn’t have a proper barber shop, Kitty would gladly cut anyone’s hair who asked her. She fondly called her unofficial business “Kitty’s Clips”. Everyone knew about it so it might as well be the town’s official barber shop. Whenever she cut hair, the customer would always share stories about their lives. As such, she knew most of the town’s gossip.

Kitty sought out Smii7y to talk to him specifically. Since the sheriff technically didn’t have any hair (his head was a literal milk bag) Kitty never got any chances to talk to him. And she loved to talk. So when she had some downtime, she would visit Smii7y in the bar and chat with him. This was the way Smii7y got most of his information about his town’s people. There was only so much he could learn by people watching from his chair or through the window of his office or while making his rounds around town. But Kitty spilled everything she heard. Mr. and Mrs. Boyd were going through a rough patch. The Smith twins had begun learning how to shoot with bows. Arthur was hopelessly in love with Josephine. On and on it went. Sometimes Smii7y thought he was being too nosey into peoples’ lives, but that’s the price of living in a small transient town. Your business was everyone’s business.

Unless you were a visitor. Then you stuck out like a sore thumb. One day Smii7y was making his usual rounds around town, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity, when he spotted a man stepping off of the 2 PM train. It was obvious that he had never been here before. His curious and relaxed gaze whipped back and forth from building to building. From person to person. Everyone else didn’t spare these things a second glance. Smii7y was immediately drawn to that captivating gaze. He was first startled when those eyes met with his. But then he relaxed and tipped his hat to the stranger with a smile on his face. The stranger smiled back with a nod, stepping off of Sunset Station’s platform and striding into the small town.

He came back a few more times after that to visit. Until one day, Smii7y saw the man behind the bar at the saloon with an apron on, washing a glass with a rag. The next few times Smii7y entered the bar, the mysterious man was in the same spot. It seemed as though he had settled down in their sleepy town and gotten a job there as a bartender.

Smii7y didn’t know what it was about this man in particular that had him so intrigued. He hadn’t ever felt this way about other travelers that passed through. Perhaps it was the allure of mystery that surrounded the newcomer. Red Rock Ridge hadn’t had any new people plant roots down for a while. As the sheriff, Smii7y prided himself on knowing his people. He only saw it fit to properly introduce himself.

After silently watching and observing the man for about two weeks, Smii7y finally decided to approach him. It was quiet that night. He didn’t see the harm in indulging a little while technically still on the job. As it was, he still ordered the one with the least amount of alcohol in it. He didn’t really see an excuse to talk to the man otherwise. They exchanged names. The man introduced himself as John, although he sometimes went by Kryoz.

“John.” The name rolled easily off Smii7y’s tongue. It fit him.

He and John became fast friends. Their humor perfectly matched each other. Their sarcasm worked in tandem. They effortlessly bounced off of each other in every conversation. They slotted together like lost pieces of a puzzle.

Even though he was just a bartender, Smii7y could tell that John was dedicated to his work. It seemed like he did so with every act he did. After a while, John shyly brought up that he sometimes drew for fun. He said it was therapeutic for him. After some prodding from Smii7y, he eventually brought his sketchbook to work for the other man to look at. Only some of it though, a few of his entries were more personal. What Smii7y saw of his drawings ranged from realistic sketches to abstract compositions. He was passionate, that much was obvious. But he didn’t have that much confidence in his creations. Smii7y on the other hand was blown away by John’s skills. And he wasn’t just saying that, he meant it. He was determined to make his new friend see the awesomeness that was his own art. He took any chance he had to compliment the other on anything he deemed worthy of praise. Which usually meant everything. John didn’t look like he believed it all that much, but seemed to appreciate it. That was ok, Smii7y would break through those walls soon enough.

Smii7y had never made a greater friend. John never failed to make him smile, whether it be through his jokes or his genuine personality. More often than not, Smii7y found himself sitting at the bar instead of his previously adorned chair by the window. He and John would chat in between John’s bartender duties. And between any fights Smii7y had to break up. Or, god forbid, anything worse.

As nice as it was, Smii7y sometimes found the town a little… boring. When he took up the position as the town’s sheriff, he thought there would be more to manage. But everyone was, for the most part, relatively well-behaved.

Despite all this, Smii7y loved his peaceful little town. Too bad it wasn’t peaceful for long.

Chapter Text

Blarg consistently grated on people. 

At a young age his teachers had called him a “problem child”. All of his peers found him “annoying”. Matt never understood, he just saw it as him having fun. It wasn’t his fault for the trouble he got in, they just didn’t understand that pranks were supposed to be funny. It wasn’t his fault that no one enjoyed his snark, they were just stuck-up pricks. But no one was more of an antagonizer to him than Smii7y. 

The boys had grown up together. One could say they were sort of friends. Don’t be fooled, though; the two weren’t entirely buddy-buddy with each other. They were rivals. Everything was a competition between them. From horse riding to axe throwing to even simply “who could run the fastest”. Anything was fair game. They even fought about things beyond their control. Matt always boasted about how he was older (“Only by six months!” Smii7y would yell). Smii7y would use his taller height as ammunition (“I haven’t hit my growth spurt yet!” Matt would shout). 

Matt was now standing at a good 6 feet. If he had still been in his hometown he definitely would’ve been holding it over Smii7y’s head—both figuratively and literally. But he no longer lived there. His parents had always itched to escape the suffocating village. Their family had lived there for generations, but they wanted out . So when Matt was 14, they all packed up their things and left. He went with his parents without a fight. He wasn’t really all that torn up about it. Nothing was keeping him there. 

And yet, ever since he left, Matt had missed their combativeness. Their rivalry always kept him on his toes. As antagonistic as they sometimes were to one another, it was still the most interesting connection he had with another person. He had never found someone else he could banter with as effortlessly as with Smii7y. 

He sometimes wondered how tall Smii7y had gotten. If he was still as competitive now as he was back then. If even now he had remained unchanged. 

Perhaps it was this nostalgia, this want for familiarity, that eventually led Matt to return to Red Rock Ridge. Not a lot had changed in his absence. He still saw a lot of the same buildings, the same stores, even the same people. As many faces as he was able to see that is. He had returned to the town late after hours, riding in on his horse Doug in the dead of night. Matt saw that there was a stable attached to a store called Saddles & Spurs, but it seemed like it had closed up shop for the night. He noticed the Grand Hotel farther up the street, but with no place to put Doug for the night, that option was out. He couldn’t exactly bring a horse into the hotel. Though he totally would if he was allowed to (he’s a huge softie with the horse and spoils it rotten). 

Matt wandered down the nearly empty street looking for some sort of shelter to take refuge in. It wasn’t until he reached the very edge of the town that he found something that seemed suitable. A ramshackle old building stood quite far from the main road, almost out of the town altogether. 

The sight of this clearly dated structure sparked a long-forgotten memory. Back in his youth, this same building stood and was in severe disrepair. It looked as if it would fall over at the slightest touch. There was a rumor that the violent ghost of its previous owner haunted the house. Most of the townsfolk steered away from the eerie building. But being the little shits that they were, all the kids would dare each other to go into the house to show their bravery. No one ever really went through with it though. Each kid who returned from their failed attempt claimed to have actually seen the ghost moving around in the windows with their own eyes, heard it moving with their own ears. No one could ever agree on what the ghost looked like. 

Blarg never believed in ghost stories. Even more so now that he was older. He felt as if he’d grown as a person over the years. More mature. Or, well, as mature as he can be, given his wild personality. Looking at the house now, it didn’t seem as foreboding as it once did. 

Luck was on his side when he saw a small enclosed paddock up against the back of the house. The wooden fence was in the same shape as the house it was attached to, but Doug was well-behaved enough to not leave an enclosed space like this, regardless of the quality of the fence. After leading the horse into the enclosure, he reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a few apples that he bought at his last stop. He kept one for himself and fed the rest to Doug. He would be able to get them both some proper food and shelter in the morning. With a pat on the horse’s head and a fond smile, Matt turned on his heel and entered the house. 

The wooden floor still kind of looked unstable, but he was sure it would be able to hold his weight. Erring on the side of caution, he decided to limit his stay to just the bottom floor. He wasn’t looking to fall through the floor and down a level tonight. 

The inside didn’t look too bad. It was actually quite deceiving from the outside. Whereas the exterior looked ready to collapse completely, the inside seemed to me a lot more secure. Someone could have even classified the inside as “nice”. Well, as nice as an abandoned building could be. 

The walls were bare of any kind of decoration. The kitchen had a table and chairs at the very least. Moving into the next room, he saw a fireplace stocked with fresh wood. It also surprised him to see a couch. And it looked to be of decent quality too. Maybe someone else had used this as a place to rest once upon a time and spruced it up a little. Either way, he wasn’t complaining. 

It was a bit chilly in the house. Despite it being hot as balls during the day, it still got quite cold at night. The house’s thin walls didn’t seem to do much to keep the drafts out either. Matt walked over to the fireplace and found all the materials needed to make a fire. Within minutes, there was a decent-sized flame within the hearth. Warmth and flickering light quickly filled the living space and he sighed with comfort and relief. 

And with that, he collapsed on the couch, pulled his hat down over his face, and immediately fell asleep. 

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Matt woke up with a snort. He bolted upright and his hat fell off his face and into his lap. His hand immediately went to his gun as he scanned his surroundings with a trained eye. He’s been in his fair share of some less-than-savory places over the years. He had to keep his head on a swivel constantly lest he get caught in a dangerous situation. 

The fire had dwindled down to ashes. Sunlight streamed in through the window and past the curtains. In the light of day, the walls looked more hickory than umber. Nothing else looked disturbed since he fell asleep the night before. He heard another knock at the front door and it took him a second to piece together that the first knock was what had woken him up. 

Matt smashed his hat on his head and scrambled to his feet. Quick as a flash, he unholstered his gun and aimed it towards the kitchen where the front door was. He had no way of knowing who was at the door or what their intentions were. Better to be safe and on the defensive than to be passive and get attacked. 

The door opened. A shadow fell across the floor, the person casting it moving closer. Matt tightened his grip on the gun. A figure passed through the living room’s entryway. 

It was Smii7y. 

It surprised Matt to find him here in their hometown. Even though the possibility had crossed his mind, he never imagined actually running into the guy. What were even the odds of that happening? Pretty high, apparently. 

Would Smii7y even recognize him after all these years? 

Smii7y’s eyes went wide with recognition? Shock? Or maybe it was just the fact that he now had a gun pointed at his head. He didn’t seem to enjoy being on the receiving end of a threat because the next thing Matt knew, Smii7y had a gun pointed at him too. 

Matt noticed the silver star pinned to Smii7y’s vest and snorted. Who had allowed this fool to be sheriff? Much less wield a gun. Growing up where they had, it wasn’t uncommon for the kids to wield firearms. Under strict supervision, of course. Being able to wield a gun was just something every kid aspired to be good at. Adults and children alike loved to brag about how good of a shot they were. Matt had been a natural sharpshooter. Smii7y very much was not. He was the worst shot out of their age group and showed no signs of improving by the time Matt left. He always held this particular victory over Smii7y’s head. 

It seemed as if Matt had finally surpassed Smii7y in the height department. He was right in assuming he hadn’t hit his growth spurt before he left. He now seemed to have at least 4 inches on the other man, much to his delight. 

He had also gotten glasses since Matt had left. Why the lenses were red and blue was beyond him. But, he supposed, it didn’t matter. 

Matt stared at Smii7y. Smii7y stared at Matt. After a few seconds of silence, Smii7y blinked. 

A smug smile graced Matt’s features. “Ha! You blinked. I win.” 

Smii7y huffed. He then straightened his arm, gripped his gun tighter, and squeezed the trigger. 

Matt flinched. He expected pain to strike somewhere on his body, but none of that happened. Instead, his gun flew out of his hand. Smii7y had shot it. His hand hadn’t even been injured. 

Smii7y smirked at him. “You’re unarmed. I win.” 

Matt… was taken aback. His eyes blinked in surprise. Since when had Smii7y gotten that good of an aim? Even he couldn’t dream of doing that. He never knew Smii7y was capable of such a perfect, dead-on shot like that. 

Point: Smii7y. 

Matt stood still for a second longer with his arm still held out dumbly. It limply swung back down to his side as he looked over his shoulder at his smoldering gun, damaged beyond repair. He frowned. 

“You better get me a replacement, milk bag.” 

Smii7y clutched his stomach and bent over with laughter. A wheezing laugh that had stayed with him into adulthood. Unchanged. It was infectious, and Matt couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. 

Smii7y straightened up and holstered his revolver. He then placed a hand on his hip right above it. “Matt. Blarg. The man, the myth, the legend. I never thought I would see you back here again.” 

Matt huffed in amusement. “I wouldn’t call myself a ‘legend’. I was just passing through and decided to swing by for old times’ sake. See how much had changed. How long’ve you been here?”

“Oh, I never left. I grew fond of this town. Wanted to help make it a better place to live in.” 

“That’s so corny.” 

They both let out a few giggles, falling back into their teasing banter easily. It just felt natural. As if they had never been apart. 

“So are you renovating this house?”

“Something like that.” Smii7y turned around and beckoned Matt towards the kitchen. He followed behind. Smii7y grabbed a previously unnoticed box from the kitchen table where he had placed it before he entered the living room and dragged it to the edge of the table. He turned around and gestured to it so Matt could see the contents. 

Inside was an assortment of miscellaneous things. He was able to spot some toiletries and a few small water containers, but the bulk of it was food. From what he could see, there were beef jerky, cheese, granola bars, dried fruit, and biscuits. There was even a loaf of fresh bread on top that smelled heavenly. He wondered if it was from Farmland Hills Bakery—if it was still even around. It had a reputation for having the best bread and pastries for miles. He hoped it hadn’t closed down. That would be such a loss. 

Matt looked up at Smii7y with a raised eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation for this generosity. 

“This is basically like a temporary safe-house for anyone who needs it. Usually for transients who are down on rough times and can’t afford to stay at the hotel. Technically, I’m not allowed to do this; the mayor doesn’t like giving ‘handouts’ , but it’s my duty to provide for the people of this town, full-time residents or not.” Smii7y sounded ticked off by the mayor’s choice of words, but grew fonder when he spoke of his town. 

Matt’s other eyebrow raised up in surprise. “And you maintain this all by yourself?” 

“Well, yea. I’m the only officer right now and it’s been a sheriff's tradition for a lot of years now. See, legally , we can’t let people squat in abandoned buildings, but if the sheriff’s department owned the house, then we technically aren’t breaking any laws. Remember sheriff Barlowe from when we were kids?” Matt nodded. “Well, he passed down the secret to me before he retired. That’s why they always kept up the ghost stories. Didn’t want anyone poking around when someone was staying here. It’s why the outside looks so run down, too. Who would want to go into a seemingly unstable building? 

“I stop by when I can to keep it stocked with some necessities, but food can go bad, so I always keep an eye out in case someone’s in here so I can bring some over. I can also bring some hay for your horse later.” Smii7y’s eyes seemed to soften. “You can’t stay here forever, but you can stay for a while until you either settle down in town or move on.” 

Matt was astounded. He had no idea about the operation that had been happening right under his nose for the majority of his childhood. Though it did seem to make much more sense in hindsight. His respect for the sheriff’s department increased. 

As did his respect for Smii7y for continuing with it. 

Matt nodded. “I mean, I’m not gonna turn down free food and shelter.” Smii7y let out a small laugh at Matt’s words. “How did you know there was someone here, though?” 

Smii7y jerked his head towards the entrance to the living room. “The fire. I saw the smoke coming out of the chimney last night while doing my rounds.” 

“At midnight ?” 

“It was a slow day at the office and I was up late.” 

“Didn’t know being a Sheriff came with all this paperwork, did you?” Matt teased as Smii7y shook his head. “Thought you would do more hunting down hardened criminals, huh?” 

“I’d say I’m doing that right now.” 

Matt went on the defensive. “Hey! I’m not a criminal!” 

A cocky grin crossed Smii7y’s face. “Your reputation precedes you. I’ve heard about your trouble from all the way out here.” 

“I was just having a bit of fun! Not that you’d know what that is.” 

“I know how to have fun!” 

“Oh yea?” 

“Yea!” Smii7y started counting off on his fingers. “I play cards, I go horse riding, I go to the theater, I participate in shooting competitions—” 

Matt couldn’t help but interrupt. “I find that hard to believe.” 

“Oh? And why’s that?” 

“You used to avoid guns like the plague! Little Smii7y’s shot was so terrible he was too embarrassed to even look at a gun. Though I’ll admit you have gotten better since I last saw you.” Matt hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and puffed out his chest proudly. “Not a better shot than me, of course.” 

Smii7y hummed and pretended to contemplate for a second. “Mmmm… yea, I don’t think so. I’ll admit I wasn’t a very good shot when we were younger, but I’ve improved since then.” 

Matt crossed his arms in challenge. “Oh yea? Prove it.” 

Smii7y grinned widely. “I think I’ve proven that already.” He tilted his head and looked over Matt’s shoulder, and he was reminded of his pulverized gun still sitting on the living room floor. 

Matt waved a dismissive hand in the air. “That was just a lucky shot. I doubt you could do that again.” 

“I could out-shoot you any day of the week.” 

“You better put your money where your mouth is.” 

“Thursday. Shooting range. 1 PM.” 

“Bet.” Matt cocked his head in challenge and made aggressive eye contact. A playful smirk graced his features. Smii7y returned the stance. It. Was. On. 

Yep, just like old times indeed.

Chapter Text

Puffer had always had a penchant for chaos. It drew him in like a moth to a flame. He never followed the rules that people and society set out. No, rules were meant to be broken; and Puffer always carried a sledgehammer. (Not that he carted a sledgehammer around with him everywhere he went. He just found one at a construction site one time. And to be fair, he only used it once to show off his strength to someone who doubted it and then left it behind.) 

He was destructive in the worst way. Not so much in the physical sense, but he was still a whirlwind of pandemonium. Though he did partake in the occasional act of vandalism. Armed with a can of spray paint, he often tagged buildings with a stylized pufferfish. His namesake. His moniker. He wore his brand with pride. Though others may be antagonizing towards his “silly” sea creature theme, he always managed to reinforce how vicious pufferfish can sometimes be. 

You could say he ran with the “delinquent” crowd in his youth. More than ran with them: he led them. It took some time to gain their trust and move up the ranks, but he was determined to cement his place in their hierarchy. And he did. But things can’t last forever. They all grew up. One by one, all of Puffer’s friends left. Or “matured” past causing trouble. They all wanted to pursue other things. “There’s more to life than just running amok like a hooligan,” one of them had said. But Puffer disagreed. It was fun . He liked being on top. He liked being respected (and perhaps a bit feared, too), craving the power that came with the position. The control. 

So when he heard about another troublemaker in Red Rock Ridge, he just had to usurp him. 

He didn’t even seek this person out, he just so happened to stumble upon his newly proclaimed rival. After being banned from yet another casino, Puffer went on the hunt for another. He eventually found one called Crystal Palace Casino, but unfortunately, it had been closed for repairs. Sour at his wasted trip, Puffer went to the local bar to have a drink. Hopefully, he could at least get something good out of his outing. He was sitting on one of the bar stools in the back and he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of the pair of men sitting behind him. 

“Did ya hear that the sheriff had another run in with the troublemaker?” 

“What makes you think it was him?” 

“Who else do you know that purposely messes with the sheriff?” 

The other man hummed in agreement. “Fair enough. So what did he do this time?” 

“So the sheriff was doing his routine patrols, right? Nothing out of the ordinary. This bold bitch snuck up behind him, snatched his hat right off of his head, and ran away .” The two men guffawed loudly as Puffer’s eyes widened. “The sheriff, of course, sprinted after him yelling. I don’t think he caught him for an hour .” 

Man number two was still laughing. Eventually it petered off into light chuckles. “I’ll tell ya, that Blarg is one devilish character.” 

Challenging the local sheriff was a ballsy move. Puffer wouldn’t dare mess with the sheriffs in his hometown. They were ruthlessly vicious and totally unfair. Him being chaotic was nothing compared to the corruption that ran through that sheriff's office. That was the primary driving force behind him keeping his antics away from home. Let the other towns deal with the aftermath. Keep it as far away from his home as possible. 

Outside of his little coastal town, he was well known. No one really knew his true identity that he kept hidden behind a pufferfish bandana wrapped around his lower face. Sometimes he would return to towns he vandalized just to hear the gossip surrounding it. It gave him a sense of accomplishment and pride for being well known. 

Puffer wanted to be well known in this town, too. But he wouldn’t be able to with someone else stealing the spotlight. 

He went to take another sip of his drink and cursed under his breath when he saw it was empty. He flagged down the bartender for a refill. Said bartender withdrew from the conversation he was having with another patron and filled up his glass. 

Before he left, Puffer grabbed his attention again. “What can you tell me about this ‘Blarg’ guy?” 

“What are you looking for him for?” 

“Mind your own business,” Puffer quickly snapped back. 

The bartender held his hands up placatingly. “Alright, I’ll drop it. What’d you wanna know?” 

“Just where I can find him.” 

The other ran a hand through his brown hair as he thought about how to answer. “I don’t actually know where he lives, but I know he likes to visit the Homestead Diner on Tuesdays.” 

“And what does he look like?” 

“Pretty tall. Red scarf. Always has two guns strapped to his sides.”

Puffer thanked the bartender and drained the rest of his drink. He fished in his pockets for cash and left it on the table under his glass. He then got up and strode out of the saloon. 

Tuesday. That was 3 days away. 

Yea, he could stay in town till then. 

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It took a bit of waiting on the following Tuesday, but eventually he found Blarg in the little hole-in-the-wall diner. It seemed to have its fair share of patrons, though, so it must’ve been doing well for its small size. 

He sat in his booth until Blarg had his meal set down in front of him before approaching in order to cause him the most inconvenience and interruption. Blarg was so concentrated on the eggs in front of him that he didn’t notice Puffer approaching. Puffer wasn’t having any of that. He smacked his hand against the table and leaned against it. Blarg slowly put his utensils down and daintily wiped at his mouth with his napkin, as if he were nobility. He looked up at Puffer with a tilt to his head. He seemed to be putting on a show of some sort. Almost as if he was expecting Puffer to find him. 

Blarg didn’t say anything and gave no indication of doing so. He just looked up with amused eyes. Puffer took it upon himself to speak first. “You’ve got yourself quite a reputation here, Blarg.” 

“Please, call me Mathiums.” By the smirk that graced his face, Puffer could tell Blarg was messing with him. It seemed to be a play on the name Matt, but he wasn’t about to call the other man that. 

“Ok ‘my thigh cums’ .” Blarg let out a few laughs at that and Puffer mentally patted himself on the back for the successful joke. Not many people found him funny, what with his lonesome and abrasive nature driving most people away. Puffer would’ve let himself laugh with the man, but he had a point to prove. He wasn’t gonna rule this town by being so happy-go-lucky, he was gonna earn respect through intimidation. It had worked well for him thus far, and it would work for him again. 

“Please, take a seat.” Matt gestured to the empty seat across the table in invitation, but Puffer wasn't about to accept it. He stayed standing to tower over the other man in a show of power. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He went back to cutting up and eating his sausage. 

Puffer smacked his hand on the table again. This time Blarg, looked up with annoyance. He swallowed the hunk of meat in his mouth. “Do you mind? I’m trying to eat here.” 

“Your time as the Big Dog™ is over. I’m in charge now. So you might as well leave town because I’m not backing down. I will make a name for myself here.” 

Matt snorted loudly. He put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his palm. “Oh really now? And what might that name be exactly?” 

“BigPuffer.” Quite like a pufferfish, Puffer puffed his chest out with pride at his self ascribed name. 

“Big name for a big man.” Blarg raked his eyes up and down Puffer’s form. He bristled with anger. His weight was one of the few things he was extremely defensive about. For this guy to use it against him like that was a low blow. 

Puffer doubled down. “Yea, I am a big man. You know why?” Puffer yanked at the blue bandana wrapped around the lower half of his face so Blarg could see his scowl. He laid both hands against the table and used it to brace himself as he bent over to be right in Matt’s face. “People know my name. There isn’t a town I’ve come across that hasn’t bent to my will. I’ve already started in this one and soon you’ll come crashing down. I don’t do competition. It’s only a matter of time until you’re yesterday’s news.” 

Blarg still seemed indifferent. “Hmmm. So direct. And what exactly did you do? I haven't seen anything.” 

Puffer quickly straightened up and spluttered. “What do you mean ‘you haven’t seen anything’ ?? It’s plastered right on the side of the schoolhouse! That’s a pretty big thing to miss.” Two nights before, while he was waiting for Tuesday to come, Puffer had found a can of paint left unattended by a building that was being restored. It immediately sparked an idea that crossed his mind quite often. 

One of his favorite things to do was to paint his namesake onto the sides of buildings. It was quite like marking his territory, showing his dominance within the town he was in. It was always a pufferfish and usually the same colors: cyan, magenta, black, white, and yellow. The exact design varied from time to time depending on the colors at his disposal and his current mood. 

The paint he had stumbled upon that night was a deep red. It wasn’t like his usual cans of brightly colored spray paint, but it would do. The perfect spot to paint had come in the form of a cream-colored wall on the side of the schoolhouse. Not only would the dark paint stand out against the light color, but the fact that it was the schoolhouse meant it was a great statement to be made. The town could do nothing to stop him from cementing his place in the hierarchy. He would hold the power. 

Blarg didn’t seem to think so. He was unperturbed by Puffer’s outburst and kept his air of indifference intact. He shrugged his shoulder. “I guess it wasn’t really all that remarkable.” 

Puffer was furious. He growled, “Why you little—” but a curt voice suddenly cut him off behind him. 

“Hmm. So it was you .” 

This finally brought Matt out of his air of indifference. A shit-eating grin quickly spread across his face as he moved his eyes over Puffer’s shoulder. “Why hello there, sheriff Smii7y.” 

Oh, that was great . Just perfect . Just his luck he confessed to vandalism right in front of the sheriff . Today was not his day. 

He turned around to face said sheriff, who was standing with his arms crossed and an unamused look on his face. Puffer mirrored the stance. He had already indirectly admitted his doings to the sheriff. At this point he might as well stick to his guns. 

Puffer jutted his chin out in defiance. “Yea it was me. What of it?” 

“ ‘What of it’ ? You committed a crime.” 

“And?” 

“That’s, you know, illegal .” 

“Who says I give a shit?” 

Smii7y narrowed his eyes. “You should; behavior like that could lead to some nasty repercussions for you. I won’t have no riffraff defacing my town.” 

“Listen here buddy ,” Puffer poked him in the chest harshly and was met with a scowl, “I don’t give a shit about these ‘repercussions’ you speak of. You think that’ll stop me? I’ll just come back stronger. I can do so much worse than defacing your precious schoolhouse.” Puffer knew he could get in trouble if he continued to talk back to the sheriff like this, but if cocky little Blarg could get away with it then so could he. Smii7y seemed to be all bark and no bite anyhow. 

Puffer, however, appeared to be mistaken. Smii7y’s gaze turned hard as steel. “Not gonna happen.” The next thing Puffer knew, Smii7y had spun him around, pulled his arms behind his back, and harshly bent him over the table. Shockingly, he had been shoved face first into Blarg’s still half full plate of eggs, ketchup, and sausage. The silverware clattered with the force and the table wobbled on its uneven legs. 

He let out a string of expletives. Puffer was certain it was done on purpose. He then felt the unmistakable coolness of handcuffs being fastened onto his wrists. Had he not been caught so off guard, he definitely could’ve resisted and broken out of the hold. 

From between the splattered eggs and ketchup, Puffer was able to see how Blarg was reacting to this. 

Matt’s head was resting lightly on his folded hands propped up by his elbows as he watched the scene unfolding before him with great amusement, like it was a daytime drama. He didn’t even seem to care about his now ruined meal. The satisfaction of seeing Puffer being put in his place was all the sustenance he needed. 

Puffer was then grabbed by the collar of his shirt/poncho and harshly pulled into a standing position. The world went blurry as his glasses got caught in the ketchup pile and was yanked off his face. He spluttered and cursed indignantly. 

Even through the haze of bad vision, Puffer could tell that all of the diner’s patrons were staring at the three of them (when had they all started watching? From the moment Smii7y walked in or when his face was shoved into the ketchup?). They, too, seemed to be watching the show, but more so with eyes hungry for new gossip. 

Blarg snatched his glasses from the ketchup pile and slid it onto his face. He then patted Puffer’s chest with a ketchup covered hand and said, “There you go, chum.” All Puffer could do was glare at the guy. 

Matt then turned to Smii7y. “Thanks for taking out the trash, sheriff. He was causing a real ruckus.” 

Smii7y chuckled. “No problem.” 

“You usually only come here on Saturdays, how’d you know he would be here?” 

“John,” Smii7y said, as if that was all the explanation needed. 

Apparently it was, though, because recognition crossed Matt’s face. His eyes flicked over to Puffer. “Ah. Running your mouth in the bar I see.” 

Of course. The bartender. What a snitch. 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Smii7y had led him out to the sheriff’s office. It was a relatively small building. There were only 3 small desks in the corner with a holding cell taking up the majority of the space in the single room. Puffer assumed there was a larger jail nearby that any prisoners were sent to should their crimes be heinous enough. 

Hopefully, vandalism wasn’t on that list. 

Nonetheless, Smii7y started the standard procedure of processing the “criminal” (not that Puffer considered himself that; he was more of a… free spirited artist). Of course he started with removing the handcuffs, only to refasten them to his wrists in front of his body instead. It may not have been Puffer’s first time entering the justice system, but it was the first time he was fingerprinted. None of the other towns he'd been to had used this method of record keeping. It was certainly an interesting experience. 

After his fingers had been properly smeared with ink, Smii7y had patted Puffer down for weapons. Now that was more familiar to him. The gun strapped to his right thigh was confiscated, as was the knife hidden in his boot. He accepted this all without complaint, but he vehemently protested at the removal of the homemade pufferfish inspired spines on his arms. Smii7y claimed they were ‘a dangerous weapon’ and ‘could really hurt someone’ . Um… false, they were just pure intimidation factor. He was proud of his creation: repurposed forearm guards with long blue metal spines sticking straight up and out. It would be impractical to have the spines deployed all the time, so he mostly kept them strapped down so they laid flat against his arm. Once someone threatened him, though, out came the spikes. They were cool as shit if Puffer did say so himself. 

His forearms felt cold and naked without them. He kept his arms crossed to stave off the chill. And to make his silent treatment towards his now captor apparent. 

Puffer had stayed mostly silent throughout the whole process. Smii7y hadn’t said anything to him either, save for the short and clipped instructions on what to do ( “Go stand over there.” “Give me your hand.” “Stop trying to sneak away.” ). He seemed all too relieved to shut Puffer in the holding cell and return to his desk to fill out paperwork, most likely about Puffer’s detainment. That was a major reason why Puffer never wanted an office-type job: it doesn’t feel worth it to be sitting at a desk all day. Or even for part of it. Puffer was a person who had to be free . Being in this cage set him on edge and he itched to get out. 

To put it simply, Puffer was bored. 

He simmered in his irritation. Smii7y was very pointedly ignoring him. Not even his most vicious glare moved the emotionless statue. Drowning in his boredom from being ignored, Puffer let out a drawn out exaggerated groan and banged the back of his head against the cell bars he was leaning against. He didn’t hit it that hard, but hard enough to make a clang reverberate through the room. 

Smii7y sighed deeply and finally, finally , looked up at him. In the most deadpan voice he could muster, Smii7y spat out, “ What .” 

“How long is this gonna take? I’ve got places to be.” 

“Not anymore you don’t. You are staying here overnight to cool down and tomorrow you’re gonna repaint the whole schoolhouse until that blemish is gone .” 

These words, however, had the opposite effect Smii7y intended. Or perhaps he started this instigation on purpose. Either way, Puffer immediately got fired up. 

“ What?? Why me? Don’t you have a person to clean up this town’s crap?” 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to clean up after your own messes? You’ve opened this can of worms, now lie in it.” Smii7y finished the last word on his report and flipped the folder closed. He opened his desk drawer and filed it away to update the next day after Puffer had done his civic duty. He then gathered up the bag of Puffer’s confiscated items, turned off the lights, and strolled out the front door without another word. 

Puffer was fuming . This was inhumane! He couldn’t do that. Could he? He didn’t even have supervision! Well, joke’s on him, Puffer would just break out of the cell. 

But no matter how many nooks and crannies he investigated he couldn’t find any weak spots he could exploit. It didn’t help that he had nothing that could be used as an improvised tool to aid in his escape. Smii7y had confiscated everything that could be considered useful and took it out with him. Even if he could escape, there was no way he would skip town without his precious spikes. 

Hours later, Puffer was circling the cage like a trapped dog when he heard a click from the other side of the room. He looked up and found a face staring at him through the now open window. He stared, dumbfounded, as the shadowed figure proceeded to climb through the window. Or try to at least; their foot snagged on the windowsill and they fell face first into the floor. Puffer snickered amusedly as the figure quickly stood up and dusted themselves off. They then walked forward with what could only be described as a swagger until they came close enough to the cell to be identified: Blarg. 

Puffer’s expression dropped to one of annoyance as Matt took his turn being amused at the predicament before him. A vein throbbed in Puffer’s forehead. “If you came here to gloat then get the fuck out.” 

“What, can’t a guy come see his favorite caged criminal?”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Well, you don’t really have a choice here. You’re all locked up in there with nowhere to go. And I’m out here free as can be.”

“Why are you snarking about? You’ve probably done worse things to end up in here.” 

Matt’s cocky expression became stern. “Maybe, but I have standards . No one messes with the kids unprovoked around here; they’re innocent. They haven’t done anything wrong… well, yet anyways.” His tone turned accusatory. “The children did nothing to you. Now if you were to deface the town hall, then that would be a different story.” Matt rolled his eyes with a huff. “Mayor Jackson is a jackass and deserves whatever karma comes his way.” 

“If he’s such a jerk then why haven’t you done anything to him?” 

Matt smirked. “Oh, I have.” Puffer waited for him to elaborate, but the silence just dragged on. He itched to ask what exactly he did, but pure stubbornness prevented him from doing so. 

Eventually, he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. His skin was crawling being trapped in here. He wasn’t able to find an escape himself. So he did something he very rarely ever does: he asked for help. “Yea, yea, you’re big and powerful. Now would you help get me out of here?” 

“After all of that ?? Absolutely not. Not that I planned to do that in the first place. Smii7y was right, you need to learn your lesson and pay for your crimes.” 

“Oh you asshole . Like you haven’t paid for your crimes!” 

“Well that’s a mystery that I’ll keep to myself.” Matt brought up his arm as if he were checking the time... there was no watch. “Oh my, look at the time. I gotta bounce. Nice talking to you— not .” He strolled over to the opposite wall and gave an over-exaggerated finger wave. “Toodles!” He then quite literally dove headfirst through the open window before jumping up and closing it with a snap . 

Puffer was furious. Even more so than before. Smii7y was technically just doing his job (and being an ass while doing it), but Blarg broke into the sheriff’s office purely to make fun of him . Oh, he really angered the bull now. No one insulted Puffer and got away with it. 

He would one up him. He would stay until he’d won. And that was a promise .

Chapter Text

Grizzy never liked being in a leadership role. He was more content to take a backseat and sit along for the ride. 

So how he ended up as Cedar Grove's sheriff was beyond him. 

If he was being honest, he was probably offered the position while he wasn’t listening and just mindlessly agreed. Actually, that seemed the most likely considering that one of his coworkers got him a “Head Sheriff Grizzy” plaque for his desk out of the blue one day. The next thing Grizzy knew, he was being shepherded into a separate room for the sheriff with the most power. Which he supposed was him now. Somehow. They hadn’t had a leader since the previous one had retired and moved away. 

But Grizzy didn’t even know what to do . He wasn’t good at all the administrative stuff. He could rarely muster up the courage to command the unit. It wasn’t that he was afraid of doing it; it was that he was afraid of messing up. Sure, the others listened to him when he spoke and gave orders, but the orders were careless and half-baked and rarely went according to plan. And the paperwork . It never seemed to end. Not to mention that his handwriting was abysmal and barely legible. He often had to stay late slowly rewriting report after report to make it readable. He hated it. 

But he loved his coworkers. They all got along well during and outside of work. It was just on the job when things went awry. 

Plus, it’s not like so many people were needed in one department. There were a grand total of six of them. Their town was pretty sizable, but it still didn’t really warrant six . The town was generally well behaved. It was completely unnecessary to have as many sheriffs as there were for the amount of activity (or lack thereof). 

All of these reasons were why Grizzy accepted a transfer request that passed by his desk. There was a nearby town that only had one sheriff and recently had an uptick in crime, as well as a rapidly expanding tourism. The sheriff couldn’t handle it all on his own, so he sent out requests to other nearby towns searching for another person to join his force. 

Technically he could’ve asked his squad if any of them wanted to volunteer for the position, but Grizzy thought they were all closer to each other than himself. He couldn’t really see why anyone would want to keep him around, to be honest. He only had a few friends growing up who eventually parted ways with him. And the others knew each other before he arrived in the town they were in now and were just closer. It was most likely just his insecurities and not based in fact, but these feelings plagued him all the same. 

Though he got along with them nicely and would miss them, he felt solidified in his decision. Of course, there were some administrative things that had to be done before he could leave, but he took care of them easily enough. The tough part came when he had to choose someone to replace him as the head sheriff. He didn’t really want to favor one of his friends over the others; he would let them work it out for themselves. Knowing them, they would all fight over the role (whether it would be who wanted the role or who didn’t remained to be seen). That wouldn’t be Grizzy’s problem though. That was an ‘after he left’ thing. 

When he announced his departure to his squadmates, they expressed sorrow at him leaving but ultimately respected his decision. They even threw him a goodbye party on his last official day of work. Sadly there wasn't any alcohol seeing as they were on the job, but there were plenty of sweets and snacks to go around. The gang even got him some going away presents. 

Ashdog had gotten him a bouquet of roses. 

Simple wrapped up a banana. 

From Jaayy he got a picture of fried chicken and from Maazz an oversized belt buckle emblazoned with a star. 

Tuxy gave him a goodbye kiss on the cheek. 

It was exactly the eccentric sort of things he expected from them. 

On the more sentimental side, they had collectively decided to get him a nicely framed picture of the six of them at the bar together, smiling widely. He would definitely be placing this one on his new desk. Ok, and maybe the fried chicken one too (he could use a laugh now and then). 

They saw him off with promises to visit and keep in touch. And the next thing he knew, Grizzy was headed to Red Rock Ridge. 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

He didn’t know what he expected to see when he stepped into the station for the first time. His old building was pretty spacious, but this room didn’t even come close. Half of it was taken up by the holding cell, and the rest of the space had 3 average sized desks neatly squared away. 

Grizzy was surprised at this smallness. The town of Red Rock Ridge wasn’t that big, but it was still pretty sizable compared to others he’d seen. Having only one member of law enforcement seemed small when weighed against the size of the expanding town, but he assumed that’s why the sheriff sought out another companion to accompany him. 

The first thing that captured his attention about the lockup was the amount of markings on the wall. Though he supposed it wasn’t that unusual; criminals were usually prone to vandalism. What was unusual about these markings was that all of them were chalk. Little doodles decorated most of the walls and floor. There were several different designs of pufferfish and there was a fair share of stick figure drawings too. The stick figures seemed to have a few recurring characters in them posed in different scenes across the canvas. One had a bandana over its mouth, one had an overly large hat on its head, and one had tinted glasses and a star on its chest. The star on that last one heavily implied it to be the sheriff Grizzy had yet to meet. Predictably, he didn’t know who the others were supposed to be, but he knew he would learn in due time. 

There were also filled in tic-tac-toe boards set up sporadically between the drawings. A few of them were scribbled over in anger. There was a handful set up on the floor right next to the bars of the cell on both sides of the barrier. Grizzy was amused at the one or two that had Xs or Os placed outside of the game board as the player jokingly attempted to cheat. 

The pile of chalk that was used for these masterpieces was tucked away in the corner of the cell next to the long bench spanning the length of the wall, as well as a pack of regular playing cards and an UNO deck. 

All in all, it was a very interesting sight to see. 

Grizzy had just turned his attention to survey the administrative side of the room when a sudden unseen voice made him jump. 

“You Grizzy?” 

Said man spun around, left hand twitching for the gun in his hip holster on reflex. His guard lowered when a man, who was obviously the sheriff, walked out of an easily overlooked storage closet with a file in his hands. “Yea, that’s me.” 

The other man’s face broke out into an easygoing smile and he held his unoccupied hand out for a shake. “Sheriff Smii7y, nice to meetcha.” 

“Likewise.” Grizzy held out his own and clasped the other’s with a definitive shake. He flashed a smile of his own as he did so, keeping it up as he released Smii7y’s hand and moved back into a leisurely stance. “I didn’t see you in there. For a minute there I thought you were boutta start a fight with me or something.” 

Smii7y’s hat flopped as he shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s not often I see someone new walk into the station and I figured it was you, seeing how you’re now officially working here and all. I have a sixth sense with things like that.” 

Grizzy nodded, finding the explanation reasonable. They hadn’t specified a time for him to come in, just the day, but Grizzy wanted to start off on the right foot with him. Hence, why he was even awake before noon. “Thought I’d introduce myself before it got too busy ‘round here.” 

Smii7y scoffed. “It’s like a ghost town here every morning. Not a lot of people around here are morning people, and most tourists don’t come around till like late afternoon.” 

“I feel that, I’m not a morning person either. The people back in Cedar Grove aren’t active in the mornings, so the other officers and I would take turns sleeping in since having six of us on duty was overkill that time of day.” 

“‘Cedar Grove’? You guys have cedar trees?” Being so far out in the desert meant trees were few and far between. Individual towns tended to have a good amount, but outside of that it was nothing but sand most of the time. And cedar trees growing there were unheard of, being native to the mountains in the far north. 

“There’s A cedar tree,” Grizzy corrected. “Right in the middle of the town. I honestly have no idea how it managed to survive out here but it’s 250 years strong and huge as hell.” 

“If only we could manage to live that long.” The two shared a chuckle and Smii7y turned to the office side of the space. This side of the room was more unremarkable and less interesting than the other half. Like Grizzy noticed when he first walked in, there were three desks that seemed pretty uniform. Only one seemed to be in regular use, the other two having various files carelessly tossed onto it. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mess, I usually don’t have anyone else to tidy up for,” Smii7y said, starting to gather the strewn papers off of one of the desks. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m not the cleanest either,” Grizzy responded and helped gather the papers. Once they were all shuffled into somewhat neat piles, they were brought over to Smii7y’s desk, presumably to be properly sorted later. 

“Alright, lemmie give you a rundown on how things work around here.” 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It wasn’t until the next week that Grizzy heard his first whispers of activity from the infamous duo that started this increase in crime. 

It was his turn to take a shift in the office while Smii7y was patrolling. He was bored out of his mind and was pleading for something interesting to happen. 

His saving grace came in the form of his boss throwing open the front door and storming in. The loud bang of the door bouncing off the wall made Grizzy jerk his head up from his desk where he was definitely not dozing off. As he rubbed the ‘not sleep’ from his eyes, Smii7y quickly passed by him heading for his own desk. Irritation was easily readable between his furrowed brows. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Grizzy mildly snarked. At first he had policed his words carefully in front of the head sheriff, not wanting to seem rude and get into trouble. They learned very quickly though that they shared the same sense of humor and loyalty, and changed that ‘boss-employee’ relationship into more of a ‘bros-for-life’ one. Grizzy was relieved at this. He wasn’t very good at censoring his words often and didn’t want it to lead to him being fired. He would like to keep his new job, thank you very much. 

Smii7y had retrieved a few papers from one of the files in his desk drawer and started writing something on each one. “Fucking Puffer ,” Smii7y snarled. “He stole my fucking horse.” 

Grizzy blinked dumbly. “Your horse?” 

Smii7y hummed assent. “Yea, Octavia. I keep her in the stables next to Saddles & Spurs.” 

“What makes you think it was him?” 

“His usual logo was painted on the inside of her stall. But I have a feeling Blarg was the one to actually do it all—the pufferfish looked much shittier than usual. Puffer takes much more pride in his art than that. Matt has his own horse in the stables too so it would be much less suspicious for him to be in there than Puffer.” He paused in thought. “Actually, the stablehand said Doug was missing too. I’d bet they’re out riding together.” Smii7y cursed under his breath and finished writing on the last paper. 

Grizzy had stood up from his desk and was looking over Smii7y’s shoulder at the papers he had filled out. Apparently they were premade Wanted posters. Two hand drawn portraits sat side by side captioned with “Puffer” and “Blarg” respectively. At the bottom of the page, Smii7y had just added “Grand Theft Auto” as the reason for arrest. 

“We’ll post some of these around town and tell folks to be on the lookout for them. The more eyes, the better.” He handed over half of the stack to Grizzy with the implication of splitting up to cover more ground. 

Before they headed out, Smii7y gave him a rundown on the kinds of fiends they were dealing with. 

Blarg seemed to do whatever inane things popped into his head at any given time. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, though he was always careful not to do anything too bad. Most of what he did seemed to be purely for his own amusement. He skirted just under the radar and caused enough of a disturbance to leave a lasting impact, but not so much that it would get him in any serious trouble. Like a ghost in the night, he would leave no evidence. 

Puffer, on the other hand, left a trail of evidence. Everywhere he went there was some sort of sign that he had been there; mostly in the form of his graffiti signature. Part of his punishment after being apprehended always included painting over his vandalism and fixing whatever else it was that he destroyed. 

Not that the sentences ever deterred the two of them. Mayhem for mayhem’s sake seemed to be the motto they lived by. They had a well-known rivalry and often had competitions of one upping each other. This spelled disaster for everybody else, what with these competitions being crime related and all. To them, the reward of victory far outweighed the consequences of the crime. 

As much as they operated independently of one another, they probably spent an equal amount of time as a criminal duo. If people had thought they were chaotic and destructive on their own, then it was multiplied tenfold when they were together. Despite their competitiveness with each other, they made a good team. Somehow, the two of them were planned and precise with their actions and each balanced the other out. They were often found not only ‘working’ together (i.e. committing crimes) but hanging out and doing other mundane things. 

Even so, they did seem to follow some sort of moral code. Their offenses were never fatal or harmful. Even with all the trouble they caused, they never physically injured anyone else. They were more nuisances than anything. 

But to be that brazen about something as high profile as stealing the head sheriff’s horse was a different type of ballsy. Especially considering how Smii7y seemed especially protective of Octavia. Even through the aura of frustration, his worry shone through clear as day. 

Grizzy placed his hand on the other’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze of reassurance. “We’ll find her, man.” 

Smii7y’s anger-filled gaze snapped to look at him, but his expression softened when he took in Grizzy’s concern and support. His brows still held some of that worry, but the small smile that surfaced was grateful and sincere. 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

According to Smii7y, after pulling off a scheme the outlaws would usually skip town for a couple of days. 

Sure enough, true to his claim, Grizzy found them. He spotted two mounted figures bringing their horses down to a canter a bit past the outskirts of town. Smii7y had described the two horses and even from a distance he could make out Octavia’s distinct markings and Doug’s luscious mane. As the miscreants drew closer, a plan unfolded in his mind and a manic grin spread across his face. If they wanted to cause mischief, then Grizzy would throw it right back at ‘em. 

He wore a bearskin cloak as part of his usual attire, the head of the beast making a nice hood and the hide protecting him from the harsh rays of the sun. Sometimes Grizzy would prank his friends by pulling the hood far up over his head and pretend to be a real bear to make them shit themselves. 

And that’s what he did here. 

He completely covered himself in the bear pelt and lay in wait. The horses came closer, closer, and when they were close enough to see properly but far enough to allow some stopping distance, he struck. Grizzy jumped out from his alleyway hiding space right into the horses’ path. He raised his arms up in front of him threateningly and let a loud deep growl out of his throat. At a first glance he was the splitting image of a real grizzly bear. 

They fell for the trick. The riders let out a string of expletives and yanked forcefully on the reins. The horses skittered to a stop right in front of Grizzy. They all froze for a moment. Then Grizzy chuckled and shifted his hood back into place. He stared at the outlaws with a pleased smirk at a prank well done. 

Octavia’s rider yanked their pufferfish bandana down from their face—Puffer obviously—and angrily yelled out, “What the hell was that for??” 

Grizzy tilted his head and held his arms up in a shrug. “I had to get your attention somehow.” 

“Oh, and I suppose just calling out to us was too much of an inconvenience to you?” The other person—Blarg obviously—wore a matching scowl to his companion, but his voice held a hint of amusement. He put his hands behind him on the back of Doug’s saddle and leaned backwards to prop himself up. 

“Inconvenience? No. Boring? Definitely.” The outlaws almost seemed to smile. But aside from a small twitch, their mouths remained set in a state of annoyance. 

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way now,” Puffer sassed. He nudged Octavia forward, but Grizzy held his arms up again to stop her in her tracks. 

“Sorry, but I can’t have you doing that.” Puffer shot a glare at him and Grizzy turned his palms out placatingly. “Hey, it’s not my fault you went and stole a horse .” 

Puffer narrowed his eyes at him and was about to say something before a loud laugh came from Matt. “Looks like we’ve got a new sheriff in town!” 

Puffer’s eyes flickered down to the shiny star pinned to Grizzy’s chest. He scoffed and shook his head. “No wonder you look so smug. Self-righteous too. Whatcha doin out here without your boss ?” 

That last sentence was obviously supposed to be a jab at Grizzy’s position in the force at the bottom of the totem pole, and it did irritate him a tad, but Grizzy took a slow breath and let it just wash right off his back. 

“We split up to cover more ground, looking for you two. Stealing a horse is kind of, ya know, illegal .”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yea no shit. Possible consequences have never stopped us before, why should they now?” 

“Because Smii7y is beyond pissed.”

Matt waved an uncaring hand in the air. “Ah, he’ll get over it. We were just taking them out joyriding. Feeling the wind in our hair and all that jazz. Puffer doesn’t have a horse of his own so we didn’t have a whole lotta options.”

“But why did you have to take Octavia specifically?” 

“I just thought it would be funny.” 

Grizzy cut off a sudden laugh by covering it up with a cough. He started speaking quickly to move past the slip in demeanor and gain the upper hand again. “I’m still gonna have to take you in, you know that right? Just make it easier for all of us and comply.” 

Puffer seemed to have had enough of all this talk. He let out a snarl. “I’m not gonna let some newbie order me around.” 

And suddenly there was a handgun pointed at Grizzy’s face. He didn’t so much as flinch at this turn of events.

“Alright, so we’re doing it this way then.” Grizzy pulled out his own gun and pointed it right back at Puffer. Matt was the next to move and drew his gun in retaliation. The three of them were silent and unmoving, locked in a silent battle.

Outnumbered and outgunned. Grizzy hesitated on pulling out his backup gun. True, it would’ve helped give him more leverage in the showdown, but shotguns had a wide, unpredictable spread as opposed to his much more accurate revolver. He didn’t want to risk hurting the horses in the crossfire should he be forced to fire it as an absolute last resort. After a few more seconds of complete stillness, the sound of another hammer cocking back permeated the air. 

“I am at my wit’s end with you two,” Smii7y said in a deadpan voice, irritation clearly heard bubbling underneath the surface. 

Without even taking his eyes off of Grizzy, Matt pulled out a second gun and aimed it behind him at Smii7y where he had suddenly appeared. “Nice of you to finally show up. I was thinkin you’d forgotten about me.” 

“Like you’d ever let that happen. Even if you died I wouldn’t be able to get rid of your ass.” 

“And what a fine looking ass it is if I do say so myself.”

“Now this is a showdown,” Puffer smirked, his finger tightening minutely on the trigger. 

So. Yet another standoff. Once again outgunned. The rational sheriffs vs the unhinged outlaws. Grizzy felt out of his depth. Even with Smii7y now with him, he still didn’t feel confident in the outcome. Not that he was doubting their abilities to apprehend the other two, but it was more so because of the unpredictable nature of the outlaw duo. But then they did something he wasn’t expecting. 

Matt holstered both his guns and raised his hands up with palms out and a lazy smile. “Alright, alright. I surrender.”

Puffer swiveled his head around to face him. “Matt, are you serious ?”

Matt gracefully dismounted and dutifully brought his hands together behind his back in preparation for being handcuffed, which Smii7y did straight away. “Sometimes you gotta know when to quit.”

“But we have the upper hand here,” he hissed through his teeth. 

Matt deadpanned. “Puffer. Do you really wanna get shot over a fucking horse? ” 

Puffer ruminated on those words. Then with a scowl, he lowered his gun. Wordlessly, he jammed it back into its holster and dismounted. Grizzy was quick to catch his wrists behind his back and force handcuffs on them. 

“Ow, jeez, stop manhandling me.” 

“Oh, grow up. They’re not that tight.” 

Blarg wiggled his eyebrows. “You know you like it, Puffer.” 

“Shut up Matt.” 

Grizzy snorted and directed Puffer over towards where Smii7y stood with Blarg. Smii7y then turned towards a woman who had stopped on the side of the street to watch the confrontation. “Kitty, could you be a doll and bring Octavia and Doug back to the stables for me?” 

The woman—Kitty obviously—saluted him. “You can count on me, sheriff.” She stepped up and took the neglected reins in her hands. “You can spill the beans about all this later.” She then leaned in slightly towards Smii7y and lowered her voice a smidge. Her eyes flicked towards Grizzy. “And you can tell me all about this fine specimen too while you’re at it.” Grizzy’s lips turned up into a sly grin and he threw a flirty wink back at her. 

Chuckling, Smii7y nodded to her with a smile and she led the horses down the street away from them with a skip in her step. Smii7y turned to his subordinate. “C’mon, I’ll show you how we process these guys.” 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

“Not with my horse you’re not. Get your own.” 

“Bro, we didn’t hurt her or anything. We’re not savages .” 

It had never really been enjoyable interacting with someone he arrested, but Blarg was oddly pleasant to talk to. Not pleasant in the “you’re a kind person” kind of way, more in the “you’re fun to banter with” way. Smii7y seemed to feel similarly, what with the semi-playful bickering going on between the two of them. Puffer he was still getting a read on. He mostly stayed silent except to make a jab at one of the others when the opportunity presented itself—which was pretty often. He seemed particularly gifted with spotting an opportunity and jumping at it. 

Though they didn’t seem to be taking the chance to escape at all, which seemed unusual. Grizzy had seen outlaws be very creative with their escape attempts, some successful and others not. But, like he had observed, these two were doing none of that. They stripped themselves of weapons with a practiced ease and calmly handed them over to him and Smii7y, then followed Smii7y’s guiding hand into the cell. They didn’t utter a word of protest, just quietly sat down on the bench (Puffer) and the middle of the floor (Matt). 

“They’ll be alright there for a while,” Smii7y said, turning his back on the cell. He and Grizzy went back to Smii7y’s desk. The hand drawn wanted posters they had put up the previous week were still sitting there. Grizzy looked between the outlaws and the drawings, comparing the two. 

“Those wanted posters are really accurate. Where’d you find an artist this good?” 

“Our friend John drew them, the bartender. He says it’s just a hobby but I keep telling him he should take paid commissions.” Grizzy hummed in response. They did seem good enough to pay money for. 

“Can we get one of those for the collection?” 

Smii7y’s eyes flicked towards Matt, who had slumped down to lie on his back spread-eagle on the floor. “ After you’ve served your time, sure.” 

Matt shrugged. “Fair ‘nuff.”

“And you still have to clean up all this chalk.” Smii7y stood up and fetched a bucket full of water. He cracked the cell door slightly to hand the bucket and a few rags over to Puffer, who immediately began whining about it. Surprisingly, neither outlaws even attempted to escape. Or argue with him for that matter. They just reluctantly moved to the walls and began scrubbing. 

Grizzy turned towards Smii7y with a puzzled expression. Immediately picking up on what he was about to ask, Smii7y lowly explained, “Giving them something to entertain themselves with keeps them relatively placated.” Grizzy snorted in amusement. 

The sounds of Puffer and Matt squabbling over who gets to use the good rag fell into the background as Smii7y droned on and on about the paperwork and junk. Grizzy struggled to pay attention to things on a good day, but he had to try extra hard to listen this time, seeing how it pertained to his job. 

All things considered, this mess had gone relatively alright. No harm had come to the horses and the culprits were apprehended with minimal resistance. Besides verbal attacks that is, but insults and whining were much preferred to violence. 

“Alright, we’re done. Here’s your dog water.” Said cloudy water sloshed in the bucket as Matt brandished it before him. 

Smii7y briefly glanced up from the work on his desk. “Just leave it in the corner. I'll get it later.” 

Grizzy became confused. “What about the ‘fuck’ on the ceiling?” He looked up at said ‘fuck’ . 

Puffer didn’t even turn to look at the word looming over his head. “Oh, that doesn’t come off.” 

“Yea, Matt used something else to write it and he refuses to tell me what.” Smii7y leaned back in his chair and glared at Matt with his arms crossed. “Soap doesn’t do shit.”

Matt looked so full of himself. “That secret will die with me.” 

Not one to sit in silence for too long, Matt continued to yap away about various pointless things. And the sheriffs continued to ignore him, utterly disinterested. He kept talking… and talking… and talking… and talking… until…

“Do you wanna play UNO?” 

Smii7y loudly groaned over exaggeratedly. “ Fiiiiiiine , I guess I could spare time for a game.” He finally got up out of his chair and stretched with his arms over his head while Matt cheered in the background. 

Grizzy supposed this fell under the category of “keeping them entertained”. But lowkey, it looked like Smii7y was just taking the offer as an excuse to shirk his responsibilities for the time being. Grizzy did not blame him in the slightest. 

For the first time in a while, Matt turned his attention away from Smii7y. “What about you Grizzwald? You down to get your ass spanked in UNO?” 

Grizzy couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yea, I’m down. Normal UNO rules?” 

“Nah, we’ve got our own rules.” 

“You’re not gonna go easy on the newbie?” Puffer shuffled the cards with practiced ease. 

“I can’t let Grizzy feel an ounce of joy.” Matt and Puffer had matching smirks on their faces, seeming to come to a silent agreement to torment Grizzy as much as possible. 

“Don’t look at each other like that. You both know you’re shit.” Work abandoned for the time being, Smii7y walked up to the cell and just. Plopped himself down in front of the door. Legs crossed. “Step up your uno game.” 

Grizzy blinked with bewilderment. Seemed like this was the regular uno arrangement though; both Puffer and Matt scooted up to the bars on their bums as well. Puffer dealt out four stacks of cards. He shoved two of them through the bars for Smii7y to take, who then held one out for Grizzy. 

Grizzy gingerly took the pile and fanned his cards out in his hands as he sat down next to Smii7y. 

“Matt, it’s your turn to start this time.” Puffer flipped over the top card of the deck in front of him. It was a plus two. 

“WHAT?!” Matt yelled indignantly. Smii7y and Puffer guffawed at his misfortune as he picked up two more cards. 

Grizzy smiled. If the rest of his time in Red Rock Ridge was as interestingly eventful as the past day had been, there would be no shortage of entertainment, that’s for sure. Grizzy found that he didn’t actually mind. 

“Plus four motherfucker.”