Angel stood back to back with the man he was about to kill. His wide-brim hat shielded his eyes from the glare of the high-noon sun but would also protect his head from incoming projectiles. In these instances, it was considered “bad form” to wear armor, but in this case, a little protection was worth more than worrying about etiquette. He wasn’t anxious and, in fact, felt he didn’t even need the extra protection, but sticking to his rules is what made him so successful, and rule number one was don’t take needless risks. Still, he was a faster caster than anyone he’d met, and this was just one more bounty to collect. Worse, this bounty was a grizzled old man who had leaned heavily on a cane as he shuffled out, dragging his feet through the dirt to meet Angel in the street.

In the moments before they began pacing off the distance, Angel had to remind himself that this was no ordinary old man. This man was dangerous. No one gets that large a bounty on their head for simple accidents. No, this man had already killed a handful of people during his escape from New Terra and killed dozens more in the prevailing twenty years, several of whom were bounty hunters. None of those bounty hunters were as fast as Angel when it came to casting. No one was faster than Angel. He’d proven that, and his kill or capture count was even higher than the old man’s.

“Are you ready, Weylern?” Angel’s voice was icy as the desert wind whipped sand around the two men.

A gravelly “Hrumph” was the only response as the two men straightened and began measuring off paces, walking away from each other.

At ten paces, Angel spun and began the chant for his fastest spell. Speaking quickly, in a mere moment, he was already halfway through the chant and could feel the massive amount of power building up inside him. As he began the second half of the spell, he made eye contact with Weylern. Weylern hadn’t even begun chanting as Angel had. Instead, Weylern raised his hand toward Angel, and just before Angel finished his chant, Weylern snapped his fingers.

Angel was on fire, and his clothes had already burned away. As the flames found flesh, they devoured him from the outside. Weylern walked slowly toward Angel, carrying his staff instead of leaning on it as a cane. He watched without emotion as the flames consumed Angel’s body. The screams coming from the man neither quieted nor did they sway Weylern’s resolve. Just before the fire finally and completely consumed Angel’s skeleton, Weylern snapped his fingers again, and the screams died with the flame. What was left was a pile of ash and a few charred pieces of bone. Looking down at what remained of the bounty hunter, Weylern kicked at the ash pile with his boot. He tapped his staff on the ground and a dust devil carried away the ashes and dispersed the bone fragments.

“Hrmph” Weylern turned and walked back toward the saloon. One more drink before he headed to the starport. It was time to find a new home. Again.