Nobita's Time Heist

"boom!"

Four gunshots rang out, swift and decisive, startling Hosea. The two pillars supporting the shop sign were each struck precisely in the same spot by two bullets, piercing them instantly. The uneven force caused the sign to slide rapidly through the air, landing squarely just over three inches in front of the horse's hooves with a deafening crash.

"Thump—!!"

"Whoosh~~Whoosh~~~!!"

The horses were startled by the sudden fall of the huge object, triggering an animal stress response. They reared up, throwing the bounty hunters to the ground and halting their pursuit.

Turning around, Da Xiong's expression was as usual, as if he had just done something as trivial as eating and drinking. If it weren't for the smoke coming out of his gun barrel, Hosea would have been suspicious.

Did he really fire the shot?

This seemingly frail little brat actually...

"I'm out of bullets," Nobita said in a low voice. "Run!"

Chapter Thirty-Two: Dragon Disease, Everywhere

At this moment, Nobita had a general idea of ​​what the phrase "a hail of bullets" meant.

The city was like a monster they had awakened, roaring and spitting out all sorts of bullets. Police would appear on the streets, around corners, on roof beams, and even on other people's balconies.

Da Xiong couldn't help but wonder, how much do these guys earn a month to work this hard? Speaking of which, those guys shooting from the rooftop are really reckless. Although the recoil of the rifle isn't that great, you're standing on a rooftop, a place where it's extremely difficult to maintain your balance. Firing a shot could easily make you fall off!

The security forces in big cities are truly formidable. If Nobita hadn't taken out the "Softball" beforehand and said, "Hosea and Silver Dollar (Hosea's Turkmen warhorse, bright silver), come in," they would have been riddled with holes by now.

"Damn it, that's why I hate big cities..."

Fortunately, the Turkmen warhorse was bold enough that it was unaffected by the gunfire around it, which was almost like firecrackers. It just charged left and right, circling around the maze-like city.

“No, because of this bank, Dutch has kept everyone in the gang silent for the past few days. They're not hungry, so they probably wouldn't know we're coming. Unless…”

"Damn it...fuck, fuck!" Hosea cursed from horseback, no longer caring about the impact on the young people. "They're our own people! Someone betrayed us!"

"Who is it?" Nobita's mood plummeted, and he couldn't help but worry about everyone in the camp.

"It's hard to say. Apart from Arthur and John, I don't think anyone else is right. Anyone could be... Kid, don't let our appearance fool you. Each of our heads is worth a lot of money in every state."

Hosea's tone turned somber as he looked at the seemingly endlessly respawning Saint Denis police unit, their blue uniforms and caps making them appear like the embodiment of death itself. "In fact, the fact that this situation has only just emerged is far beyond my expectations!"

……

Suspicion is often the beginning of a team's breakdown, and the current situation made it impossible for Hosea not to be suspicious. The sudden appearance of bounty hunters, the local police force of Saint Denis, and the Pinkerton detectives in black suits mixed in with the crowd—it seemed that all the pursuing forces had formed a large net here to crush the Van der Linde gang in one fell swoop, which was undoubtedly illogical.

If it were one of them, with Dutch's mediation, they could barely manage.

However, if all the groups targeting them were to act seriously at the same time, a few wandering gunmen alone would not be able to change the situation.

Judging from this situation, it's definitely not safe to stay near Saint Denis. That place is just one building, not even a place to defend. They could easily break through it with a Maxim gun.

But from Plowshare Village to Valentine, from Loguetown to Saint Denis, this group of people fled like rats in the street, drifting further and further away from the dream Dutch had painted. Where would they move to this time? And how long could they hide? Cities were expanding, wilderness was shrinking, and perhaps, in their lifetime, they would face a situation where they had nowhere to hide, and there wouldn't be many unknown lands left for them to explore.

Enough said. The most pressing question is: where do we move to next? Do we really have to find a cave and live like those shameless bandits, living day to day without a tomorrow?

As the gang's second-in-command, Hosea had no choice but to think about it.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"This can't go on, we'll be overtaken sooner or later..."

Da Xiong fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a bottle of perfume with a red label and handed it to Hosea.

"Put this under the horse's nose and spray it!"

"What is this?" Hosea took the glass bottle, reading the word on the label with a puzzled look. "Quick? A equine stimulant?"

"Thank you for double-checking for me, this time I'm sure I didn't take the wrong one..." Nobita breathed a sigh of relief. "Quick, spray it on!"

In those days, the concept of perfume wasn't widespread, so Hosea naturally didn't think it was for human use. Desperate, he actually bent down and sprayed some into Silver Dollar's nostrils, and the reaction that followed was far beyond his expectations.

"Whoosh—!!!"

No stimulant could compare to a drop of this potion. The Turkmen warhorse immediately let out a loud neigh, jerked its hind legs up, and nearly shook Hosea's old back to pieces.

"Silver dollars? Silver dollars?! Shh! Shh—!! What did you feed it?"

What it was fed was unimportant; what mattered was that this Turkmen warhorse, already possessing exceptional stamina, was now unleashed to its full potential. With a leap, it jumped over the dense crowd and galloped wildly out of the city. The sound of its hooves left the wind behind, and in an instant, it had left all its pursuers behind, galloping along the road out of the city at five times the normal speed.

"Ah...ah————!!"

Da Xiong suddenly realized that the old man, despite his calm demeanor, was actually quite timid. When this unexpected situation occurred, he actually screamed in fright. The wind stung their ears, and Hosea and Da Xiong clung tightly to their horses' backs. The gunshots and shouts of battle from Saint Denis were instantly left behind.

They probably hadn't expected this turn of events. They'd assumed that with so many people capturing an old man, it would be a sure thing, so they hadn't set up any defenses at the city's exit. Suddenly, with a whoosh, a gleaming silver figure sped away, leaving everyone in the dust, disappearing into the distance. The remaining people couldn't help but wonder, was that old man riding a horse? It seemed like a completely different species from the ones they rode!

Fortunately, the old horse knew the way, and the silver dollar carried the two of them, sparks flying all the way, straight towards Shedi Belle.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

“New Austin?” Arthur’s face was filled with shock and a hint of anger at being betrayed. “I thought our next stop would be Tahiti, at the very least! That’s what you promised, Dutch! One last job, one last job, and we can leave here and live the life we ​​want.”

“Quiet down, kid. Right now… this is just a plan. Don’t let everyone know with that loud voice.” Dutch remained unmoved, still puffing on his cigar. “In the few days you were gone, Micah told me he met a warlord in New Austin. Of course, he also controls things like oil, gold, and securities.”

"Norman Andrew".

“Whether I call him Andrew or Andre the Donkey, what does it have to do with us?” Arthur squinted. “Dutch, you wouldn’t happen to be…”

“Micah told him about us, and he thought highly of us and considered us… ‘high-quality’ business partners. He wanted to do business with some real men, not those smooth-talking, suave, spineless Italians.”

Dutch began to see things that Arthur had never seen before.

greedy.

The flames of greed burned fiercely in his eyes.

"But to get into that level of organization, we need a lot of money. To be precise, it's not just money, it's an entry ticket. We need to prove to this arms tycoon that we have the ability, the skills, and the strength to take on this job."

“Think about it, my son, Cornwall is a businessman too. He can sit in a luxurious private room and, with a flick of his finger, have his Pinkerton detectives chasing us into hiding.”

He put his arm around Arthur's shoulder, his tone excited, as if that beautiful vision and future had already been realized in his eyes.

"Sometimes, only by becoming a businessman can you control other businessmen. Only by becoming capital can you control capital..."

What do you think, my child?

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

……

From the side, Arthur saw Dutch's shadow cast on the wall by the sunlight.

Like a giant dragon with bared fangs and claws.

Chapter Thirty-Three: I have a plan!!!

“Dutch… oh, Dutch…” Arthur felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, unable to breathe. This man, whom he once regarded as a father, now had such a sinister smile. “Are you insane? Cornwall? Do you want to become like Cornwall?”

“Calm down, Arthur. This is just a vision. Micah isn’t very familiar with this warlord either. Even if we do meet him, it’s uncertain how much trust he will place in us.” Sensing Arthur’s resistance, Dutch’s tone turned cold, and he changed his address from “my child” to “Arthur.” “I…I have a plan, really. I’m still considering it. I just want everyone to have a good life, that’s all.”

"Then, what about robbing a bank?!" Arthur pressed on relentlessly. "You made so many people risk their lives to play this big game with you, just for this? To become Cornwall?!"

“I didn’t say I wanted to become Cornwall; I despise people like him. But you have to admit, with our strength, it’s hard to compete with him. He has money, and with money, he can buy countless people to work for him; and what about us? We only have people, only guns, and I’ve recently realized… to achieve my dream, guns alone are not enough.”

"Don't you understand, Arthur?"

Dutchman stood up abruptly, looking down at Arthur, and said in a deep voice, "This country needs wealthy people who are more humane than those in Cornwall. This is the first step in realizing our ideals, the first step in...changing this world!"

……

first step.

He did say that.

Arthur bit his lip, and his heart suddenly turned cold. He knew that deep down, Dutch had already left behind everything he had experienced over the past few decades.

"What about Hosea? Did he agree?"

“Hosea is old, my child, while you are still young.” Dutch’s address changed again. “To be honest, given the current state of the camp, we don’t even have the money to hire a good doctor for you.”

"..."

“Believe me, these are tough times, that’s true. But if we can get through this, we can solve everything once and for all. In New Austin, Cornwall won’t be able to reach us, and Pinkerton’s dogs will just be watching. Honestly, this is all the problems we need to solve, all of them! We are fully capable of starting from scratch, just like…”

The noise in the camp interrupted Dutch's long-winded speech. His expression instantly turned from cloudy to gloomy, and in the end he simply patted Arthur's shoulder twice and said, "You've had a pleasant chat, kid."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Dutch, Dutch!"

As he dismounted, Hosea's body felt like it was about to break, but despite the back pain, he gritted his teeth and walked into the villa, calling out Dutch's name.

"We have to get out of here right now, get them packing their bags... Ha... Immediately, right now!"

“Don’t be nervous, old friend,” Dutch said slowly as he walked down the stairs. “Take your time.”

Asur poured a glass of water for the panting Hosea.

"Ah, thank you, young lady." His hands were trembling so badly that he spilled most of the water before it even reached his mouth. He then tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp. "Listen to me, Dutch. The bank robbery is out of the question; they were prepared."

"'who are they?"

“Pinkton, the police, bounty hunters… everyone we’ve ever offended is in Saint Denis, waiting for us to walk right into their trap! If this kid hadn’t decisively opened fire and saved my life, I would have been shot dead in front of the clothing store!”

"Oh?" For a moment, Dutch's eyes showed a hint of surprise and delight, and his gaze towards Nobita changed. "Kid, you can shoot a gun?"

"I know a little..."

“That’s not important, Dutch, we have to get out of here! Once they surround this place, the thin walls won’t stop many bullets!” Hosea’s tone became increasingly anxious. “We might not even have time to pack our things. They’ve already come out in full force, and it won’t be long…”

“Oh, old man, you always exaggerate like that.” Micah noticed Dutch’s slight hesitation and immediately stepped forward, sneering, “You’re just saying that because you’re afraid of losing your life or wetting your pants on that bank job, aren’t you?”

“Shut your dog mouth, Micah.” Arthur, leaning against the edge of the second floor, glared at him coldly and snapped, “Why don’t you just swagger in through the front door and say to them, ‘Hey, move aside, I’m going to rob you,’ how about that?”

“Anyone with eyes can see this isn’t a personal grudge, cowboy!” Micah tilted his head, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. “If the old man’s lost his drive, he should retire voluntarily and let someone who wants to do it take over. Stop sweating buckets every day just riding a horse and spouting pessimistic nonsense.”

In my opinion...

"Enough, all of you shut up!" Dutch shouted suddenly. "Let me think!"

“Dutch, we don’t have time.” Hosea pleaded earnestly, his voice hoarse, barely able to retaliate against Micah’s provocation. “Do you really want to wait until a bullet hits one of us before you regret it?”

“That’s not what I meant, Hosea. We’re all alive now, and you’re alive too! I have a plan, you know that!” Dutch gritted his teeth and said, word by word, “We’ve spent so much time, energy, and money planning it, and now you’re suddenly telling me that because of some difficulties, we have to cancel it all? You don’t understand how important this plan is to me, to us. It is…”

what is it?

Nobita had no idea, because the next second, a series of gunshots came from the front, bullets crackling and popping in every corner, as if the other side didn't care about accuracy at all, as long as they could vent their anger in this big house.

Human nature is always conciliatory. When you ask him to abandon the plan, he's unwilling. But if you tell him that staying here will cost him his life, Dutch will be willing in comparison.

He's a bit crazy, but not stupid. Having been in the underworld for so long, he can tell the difference in firepower just from the sound of gunfire.

"Boss!" Micah, contrary to his usual self, immediately backed down, "Should we..."

"There's no time to pack. Everyone grab your guns and rations, mount your horses, we have to leave immediately, take as many as you can! We have to get there..."

……

At this point, Dutch froze. Everything had happened so suddenly that he hadn't even decided where to run.

“Let’s go back to the snow mountain.” Arthur’s voice was slow but firm. “Think about it, Dutch. According to Hosea, that’s a huge group of people. This is no small matter. Whoever it is, someone is determined to take our lives! If we continue to just symbolically wander around like before, we will definitely be wiped out in one fell swoop!”

“We must go to a place that is truly isolated from human habitation, a place so difficult that they think we wouldn’t survive if we went there, in order to temporarily escape their notice.”

Dutch's expression was conflicted; it was clear that he didn't agree with the plan deep down. The execution would be extremely difficult, and even if they did reach the snow-capped mountain, they would simply be trapped there, and when they could get down would be unknown.

but……

This is not a multiple-choice question, but a short-answer question.

His last shred of rationality told him that this was indeed the optimal solution at that moment.

“They’re here. I’ll stay and buy you some time to retreat.” Arthur took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “You all hurry and retreat through the back door!”

"I'll stay and help you," Nobita said without hesitation.

Author's message

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Starting tomorrow, update times should return to normal.

Chapter 34: Is this the kind of firepower a gang should have?!