The Gunslinger. (independant story)

Based on "The Gunsling" by Black Veil Brides.


The small band of outlaws rode across the wasteland, taking the spoils of another successful heist to Robber's Gorge, a haven for criminals, serving only the well paying customers, while the people there had no loyalty to the Outlaws that frequented the town, the lawmen could rarely outbid them.

The band of five stop, dismounting their horses in order to take drinks. The group look at their spoils, feeling good that they had gotten away.

"Here's to another job well done, boys!" The leader shouts, raising his waterskin. After a long drink, he turns to face the direction they came from, almost gloatingly. "Ha, them damned lawmen didn't know what hit 'em when Samson used that dynamite!"

The group laugh heartily, all except for one.
"You killed them. We swore that we wasn't gonna be murderers."

"So you're fine with armed robbery and it's all fine to shoot at the marshals, but kill one o' them an' it's suddenly passed the line?"

The protester makes a half-laughing noise.
"As if we weren't going ta' jail anyway, we'll be lucky notta get hung."

"So, what're ya gonna do?"

"I'm done with this. With you."

The leader draws his revolver.
"Done? We promised ta' be in this together. 'Till tha' end.

"Well I ain't a murderer, an' I sure don't think you are."
He turnes, headed for his horse before a loud click freezes him.

"Sorry, sonny. You was a good friend."

The bullet hits the Gunslinger in the back of the head. As he falls to the ground, he catches the faces of each of his friends looking down on him.

"Dig a hole."

5 Hours passed, the dead man long since buried, his companions gone. But in that shallow grave out in the desert, something stirred. Something lived.

Crawling alone, through the soot and stone, he makes his way home half to death...

The grave surface began to shift, caving in, and from the dust, rose a hand, dragging behind it the rest of the man. He looks at the scene around him, noting the blood stain where he had been killed, and the tracks, once five, then four. He was missing his revolver, his water and his hat. He remembers nothing, only faces, and one name. Samson.But knowing that this is not his, he places it to a face. A round faced man, middle aged, with a scar across his left cheek.

The once dead man knows of the groups destination, Robber's gorge, but not where to find it. He takes a step towards the dusty trail, his stirrups clincking against the arid ground, seeing a town in the distance. Another step, closer to the town.

The road winds before him, dust trails behind his feet. The walk took him around 2 hours, by now dusk was setting over the area, the town is silent, everyone is inside. The Gunslinger entered the Gunsmiths, only to find a bandit, aiming a repeater at the owner.

"Now, give me the money, and no one get's hurt." The bandit, hearing the door,looks at the newcomer. "Just in time, friend. You can hold the door for me."

Backing away with his money, the robber moves to the door, his rifle trained on the shopkeeper the whole time, not noticing the foot stuck out behind him. When he falls, the unlikely hero takes his pistol from his hip, and sticks the barrel under his chin.
"Robbers Gorge. Where do I find it, friend?"

The would-be robber whimpers, afraid of the death that looks so close at hand.

"N-north... There's a big w-wooden bridge. It's west o' that bridge. Don't kill me!"

Satisfied, he moves away, keeping the revolver trained on the cowering criminal. As he turns to leave, the robber reaches for the rifle, but is stopped with a bullet to the side of his head. The man crouches, taking the bullets from the corpes's bandolier, making sure he has more than enough.

He leaves, without another word, until the shopkeeper chases him out.

"Hey! Mister! Thanks for what'cha did, he would've ruined me! I saw 'im ride up on that there black horse, if you need it."

He nods, moving to the steed, climbing into the saddle.

"Murder is nothing to thank me for."

He turns the horse, riding out of the town, using the dead-robber's directions to find Robber's Gorge.