original

Fire Gun

Chapter 1: Prologue.

Say, you haven't happened to lay eyes on the Widow Maker around here have ya? The bartender kept cleaning the mug he was holding before answering the man. "No I haven't, what's it to you though?"

"Well I'm a bounty hunter you see, and I am not aware if you're aware but there's a pretty big bounty on the fuckers head." The bartender puts down the previous mug and grabs a new one to clean. "You think you could take him?" Said the bartender in his deep gravelly voice.

The man took a swig of his whiskey. "You've never heard of me?"

"No I haven't, should I have had?". The man kept drinking his whiskey before answering, "you're pushin your luck grandpa."

The doors of the bar open, a tall slender man in a black trench coat and cowboy hat walks in, slowing walking towards the bartender all the other men in the bar stop what they're doing and start following the strangers movements, the bar was silent as a grave, except for the sound of the man's boots slowly stepping on the wooden floor.

The man had a slow and careful way of walking, almost as if his every step was calculated. The man's face was covered by his black hat rimmed with blood red stiching and his leather trenchcoat had red spider like leg designs that started at the man's back and curled around to front, two of them covering the length of his sleeves.

On his back, he was wearing two medium sized machete-like swords, coupled with multiple revolvers on his hips and a small shotgun next to his swords. The man in black sat next to the bounty hunter, all eyes still on him. "Beer" he said, the sound of his voice breaking the silence. The bartender nodded and went to get a mug of beer.

The bounty hunter knew who the man that just walked in was, and was trying to look straight forward to not raise any suspicion, he could still see the man out of the right side of his eye though.

The bartender came back with the beer and handed it to the man. The man took the mug and started drinking out of it.

The bounty hunter debated on wether or not he should act now or wait until the man left the bar and walked outside. After all, he wanted all the credit for killing the Widow Maker, and he couldn't get that if he tried something in the bar as all the other men would start trying to jump in and cause disarray.

The bounty hunter decided he would wait until the man would leave the bar. He didn't know how long it would take however and if the bounty hunter stayed the same amount of time as the man and left at the exact same time that would raise suspicions to the man.

The bar doors burst open. Another man in a cowboy hat and a leather trenchcoat barges in. The Widow Maker drops his mug on the ground and it shatters.

He looks back and sees the other man standing at the entrance of the bar. The Widow Makers face start swelling up with fear as he looks at the man with his hands in his pocket, smoking a cigar and his cowboy hat covering his eyes. You could only see his dense stubble beard along with a faint remnant of a red tattoo that went halfway up the man's throat, mostly being covered by a dark brown flowy scarf. The man had an ominous vibe, as if he was solely for the Widow Maker.

The Widow Maker stood up from his seat slowly although panicked, dropping his hat on the floor. His face was pale as an unlit candle with long greasy silver wavy hair and red eyes. Muttering in fear he told the man standing at the entrance "i-i-t wasn't me!! I swear it wasn't!".

All the other men in the bar along with the bartender and bounty hunter that was adjacent looked at him with a puzzled look, a 'what the fuck I thought he was supposed to be dangerous' kinda look. The bounty hunter was confused as to why this cowardly man with a screechy voice was so feared in this town.

The man at the entrance put out his cigar on the nearest table. He took a step towards the Widow Maker. He took another step, and then another. His metal lined soles serving as a bell for the Widow Makers funeral, the Widow Maker started to cry and exude bodily secretions falling to floor crying, ashamed and knowing there wasn't any point in resisting it, he waited for the man at the entrance to kill him.

The bounty hunter next to him pulled out his gun, aiming at Widow Makers head, before his own head exploded in a ball of fire, splattering blood and viscera everywhere. Part of his brain sticking to Widow Makers face, his scorched eyeballs flying off of his head and landing in the mugs of 2 other men. The bounty hunters headless (and also neckless kinda) body hit the ground, with more blood gushing out of the 'wound' and forming a puddle of congealing blood that started to seep into the Widow Makers pants, accompaning the other disgusting fluids that resided in his pants.

The men in the bar, the bartender and the widowmaker looked at the bounty hunters dead body in shock and disgust amongst other things. They had no idea what had happened, it all happened to fast, the bounty hunter didn't even get a chance to properly line up his gun to the Widow Makers head before his own head exploded.

Widow Makers gaze returned to the man at the entrance, gun still smoking he uttered in a deep southernesque voice "He's mine shitstain". The words were directed at the bounty hunter who tried to claim the prize that was rightfully his.

The man continued his walk, the sound of the metal on the man's boots getting louder and louder each time for the Widow Maker.

The man arrived at the Widow Maker who had already accepted his fate. The Man pulled a large shotgun-like weapon with a single very large barrel, it looked like a heavy monsterous thing, almost like a portable cannon. "Let me help with you that" said the man refering to the piece of brain on the Widow Makers face.

The Widow Maker tried to utter his last words, but was interrupted by the fire ball that came out of the gun. It ripped his skull apart and charred it until it was but ash. Along with making a large hole at the bartenders table which had caught fire.

The bartender rushed to grab a bucket of water to put the fire out. The man said to the bartender who was trying to put the fire out, "Flint. Tell your sherrif not to be late, I need to get going." He then left the bar.

All the other men in the bar were now looking at him leaving the bar, all in shock of what just happened and how fast it escalated, and confused as to who the man was and why he just decided to kill the Widow Maker.

Above all they were thinking how much of a bitch the Widow Maker really was. And as the man took his last step out of the bar he grumbled "fraud." Lighting another cigar and walking off while the sun was beginning to rise.