The Owl Express was busy.
Every bird knew exactly why - at least, provided they had a place to be and good taste in public transportation - as it'd been temporarily "out of service" for the whole week.
They'd be fine; there's other trains. Granted, none had nearly as great service and quality as the Owl Express, but it wasn't an uncommon experience, and most of the railway was still accessible; everybody knows that if the Conductor wants to film somewhere with his train, there's no stopping him.
The train chugs along on the tracks, endlessly moving down its aimless path.
The wind roars in his ears as it rushes past, his poncho fluttering behind him as he pressed against the current. At the speed he was going, if he faltered for even a moment he'd lose too much time. He was hot on the trail - it all came down to this.
He knew exactly which cart they were to be conniving in; and as he leaped across each gap between them, he counted.
He flips over the side and kicks through the window, falling into the room and rolling onto his feet.
Glass crunches under his boots, his spurs jingling with each step. He presses himself against the door, a hand hovering over his gun's holster.
He sees one of them near the other side, muttering indistinctly amongst his colleagues on the other side.
"...need to...the next stop...the bounty..."
He slams the door open, spinning his revolver in his hand and pressing the barrel against the back of the owl's head.
"Do no move an inch." The cowboy drawls, eyeing the bandits scattering away. Feathered hands reach for their weapons and a shot rings out, he grabs the owl with his arm, veering to the side and
the bullet whizzes past his face. It leaves behind a fresh streak of red.
He presses the gun to the side of his captured bandit's head. "Drop yer peckin' weapons right now. This ain't gotta be messy, 'less ya wanna make it. Go out quiet, or--"
"Pffha!" The owl's voice trembles with nerves, but he tries to play it off, gesturing nonchalantly with his revolver. "Uh, hhyeah, as if we'd surrender to the likes of you, you w-washed up--"
Then... something between them cracks.
An unnatural purple glow fills the room - a camera hurriedly adjusted to face the source - dancing on the faces of the birds in the room. Silence, as it opens wider, everybody staring slack-jawed (luckily, the owls' faces mostly covered by their bandit costumes), until someone breaks the silence.
"Wh-- What in the ever-loving peck is THAT?!" He bellows, changing the target of his revolver to the growing light, holding the owl tighter.
"I-I-I don't know! This, this wasn't part of th--" a kick in the leg from the Conductor gives him pause, adjusting his response accordingly "Th-th-th-th-the plan! They weren't su-supposed to... to..."
"I-it's too-- too early, I didn't--"
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