<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://gunsofold.com/marshal_badge_silver_balltip.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>John “Townsend” Templeton, Nathan Hunter<br/><strong>Date:</strong>July 18th, 1874 (Two years before game start.)<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Late Evening, One hour later<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Basement of the Sheriff's Office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Closed, Ginny<br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/39/Townsend.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0d/Natehunter2.png)</div>The two men circled one another – the basement was cramped with the wooden crates, piled high and stacked against the walls.  There was merely the space around the support beams that was cleared way – which left very little room for a boxing match.  Templeton didn’t so much as spare Virginia a glance – but Hunter did, glancing down at her.  Templeton seized the moment, taking advantage of Nathan’s concerned gaze to rush towards the soft-skinned lawyer.<br/><br/>There was the lightning fast flick of a fist, the crunch of cartilage, a turn and pivot, and Nathan stepped back, assessing his opponent.  Templeton blinked, holding his hand up to a nose which hadn’t just been bloodied – it had been broken.  For a second, he was dazed – but the gentlemanly lawyer seemed unwilling to capitalize on the moment, instead searching Templeton’s face for some sign of surrender, the hope that quick flash of pain would bring him to reason.<br/><br/>He could not have misjudged his opponent more.  Templeton’s surprise became a flash of rage, a genuine berserk, and he roared and crossed the distance between himself and Hunter in a leap, tackling Hunter to the ground and crashing atop him into a trio of crates, the flimsy wood cracking and shattering under their weights.  Ginny couldn’t see all of the fight – only Templeton’s hand rearing back once, twice, thrice, and coming down with a heavy thump on each occasion.<br/><br/>Templeton rose, chest rising and falling, sneering at his fallen opponent, and turned back towards Ginny.<br/><br/><strong>“Now… where were we, darling?”</strong>he growled, oblivious to the shadow of the man rising up behind him.  Nathan’s hair was in disarray, an eye beginning to blacken and puff closed, but he formed his hands into fists again, calmly reaching forward and tapping Templeton on the shoulder.  He gave Templeton only the briefest of moments to realize Hunter was not so unconscious as he’d expected, unwilling even under the circumstances to throw a sucker punch – but an eyeblink after Templeton had registered the ‘soft’ lawyer’s consciousness, another lightning fast haymaker smashed cross Templeton’s cheek, and Nathan Hunter stepped inside his guard, following up the haymaker with a jab, a second jab, and a roundhouse combination that sent Templeton staggering back, towards Ginny.  Nathan advanced fearlessly, and Templeton slipped the blade from behind him out, catching the lawyer by surprise as he slammed the butt end of the knife up and into his gut, doubling the lawyer over.<br/><br/>He caught Nathan by the collar, then slammed the fist which held the knife into Nathan’s crotch – the blade was still turned away, but the extra weight and the pommel added force to the punch, and Nathan doubled, his eyes widening, and he gave a gasp of pain.  Templeton growled.<br/><br/><strong>“Yer fast,”</strong>he acknowledged.<strong> “And tougher’n you look.  You still ain’t no Law Dog.” </strong>He grabbed Nathn by the hair, reversing his grip on the blade with a flick of his wrist.  Nathan grit his teeth, eyeing the blade, then hurled his weight into his shoulder, slamming into Templeton’s belly and back against one of the taller crates.  He caught the hand which held the blade, and pinned it back to the crate with one hand, then slammed his fist down atop Templeton’s wrist.  There was a crack of breaking bone, and Templeton’s fingers loosed, the blade clattering to the dirt.  Templeton threw an elbow, crossing Nathan’s jaw, and then threw his weight back against the lawyer, sending both men rolling to the ground at Ginny’s feet.  A well timed kick managed to box one of Templeton’s ears, and Nathan seized the moment, rolling over atop Templeton and delivering another punch to the Law Dog’s face.<br/><br/>Then Nathan made a mistake – not his first, in the fight, but certainly costly – and he looked up.  Before, he’d had a view of the Whateley from around Templeton, a hint of her nudity.  Lying on the ground, atop John Templeton, he had a rather brazen view of her most delicate parts, her heaving bosom, and his eyes went wide.  A blush suffused cheeks already reddened by exertion.<br/><br/><strong>”Ma’am,”</strong>he apologized, right before catching a cross hook across his cheek from Templeton, and the Law Dog rolling atop the distracted lawyer.  The two men continued to roll, punch, elbow, roll, punch, kicking up dirt and sending a spritz of blood, spittle, and sweat with every blow.  It was minutes – minutes of heavy punches, of flesh and bone protesting, and cracked and bloodied knuckles as the men beat the living hell out of one another, over and again, the contest of strength and testosterone fueled stubbornness stretching for taut minutes.  It was a final roll and punch from Nathan, managing to get atop Templeton, his fist coming down once, and then again, and again, and Templeton was still.  For a moment, Nathan seemed lost in the berserk fury of the moment, primal and masculine like a triumphant barbarian upon a bloodsoaked battlefield, ready to claim virgin prize as his rightful spoils of war.<br/><br/>He took one long, deep breath, keeping a careful eye upon Templeton, and rose up and off of him.  His hands searched down his duster, until he found a key, and the knife.  He was still catching his breath, his face mottled with blood and sweat and yet-forming bruises.  He reached and stripped Templeton of the pistol, as well, awkwardly taking it, looking down at his own, and then simply stripping the bullets from it and tossing it across the room.  He came to Viriginia, then, the knife slicing through the leather of the belt, and pulling the panties from her mouth.<br/><br/><strong>“Are you alright, ma’am?”</strong>He worked the keys, quickly unlocking her, already shrugging out of his own coat to wrap around her shoulders.<br/>