The air is hot and dry, parching your throat. No water. Little light.
You squint and see a man in the distance. This must be the one they told you about. He can help. You wave your arms and call to him. He saunters over, head down, cowboy hat covering his face. His dark black clothing ripples around him in the breeze. That breeze always blows, but it's never cool. No relief from the heat.
The stranger lifts his head to reveal a sharp nose and two striking eyes. The eyes scan you, searching, appraising. Are you a threat? No, not even close. He relaxes and moves his hand away from the revolver on his hip.
You tell him you're looking for information about someone and were told he could give it to you. He raises an eyebrow and looks away, disinterested. You tell him it's important, but he spits and turns to leave. You tell him you met someone and need to know his story...
The stranger spins around and grabs you by both shoulders!
"Who did you say?" he growls!
You respond that you had talked with
The man brushes off your shoulders and releases you. He says, "I don't normally share a whole lot. Truth be told, I'd rather shoot than talk, but sometimes talking is the only way to get what you need."
"
"He took up bounty killing when he was young. More like he happened upon it. The boy had always been a good shot, and one day when he was riding through some new town looking for work, he saw some fella roughing up a lady. He didn't take to kindly to that.
The stranger motions with his hand to show you, for emphasis, apparently.
"No Name didn't even know the man was the leader of the gang that ran the town. Just shot him dead. The townsfolk called the sheriff who gave No Name the reward that had been on the man's head. From then on, he was hooked. Kill bad guys and get paid to do it? It was a perfect fit."
When you have to shoot, shoot! Don't talk.
-Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez "The Rat"
"It's been like that ever since. He rides around showing up at this place or that. Always shooting, always killing." The stranger laughs. "One time he took on a gang of five men at one time. Got shot 6 times in the heart and didn't go down." He had made a bulletproof vest out of a a sheet of metal and they couldn't kill him."
You interrupt him and declare that
"Yes, I know him well," he says. "You might say I know him better than most. In fact, I've known him in two different lives. Once as a friend. The last time... well, let's just say that's how I ended up here. At least he had the courtesy to send my hat and gun along with me."
You suddenly get a sinking feeling in your stomach. This wasn't someone who had information about
The stranger steps closer. You back away, your heart racing, but he matches your steps. "Most folks don't know who I am, but I'll tell you," he says, cocking his head to the side. "I'm Angel Eyes! I've spent these long years scouring this god-forsaken Underworld for any information I can find about our friend,
He spits.
"And now, I have one. You!"
BANG!!
You hear a loud pop, light flashes, and you begin to feel a warm trickle as you put your hand to your stomach. Your vision narrows and begins to grow dark.
Then...
Nothing.
