The sun couldn't reach the path he was riding on, the only thing guiding his way was the rays that reflected off the rocky sides of the valley. The cowboys' riding was steady and slow, his old bronco took heavy steps as it neared the end of a long day's riding and he was slumped as if his duster coat and all the dust on it weighed a ton. his fatigue was so severe that he didn't react more than a slow tilt of his hat when a bullet zipped past him. Looking down on him, on the edge of the valley, stood a figure that was made into a silhouette by the beaming light of the scorched hillside. The tired cowboy watched as they fired another poorly placed shot into the side of the valley before giving up all together and disappearing out of sight. The cowboy started letting out an array of swear words, grunts and statements along the line of "Not again!"and "Why me?", as he started stretching and cracking his back before checking the revolver at his hip. After each bullet was accounted for he snapped the chamber back and gave it a spin and he holstered it. The shooter yet again came to him as a silhouette as they made a pillar of shadow whilst waiting at the end of the valley .

'What you want?!', the cowboy commanded before the shooter could say anything.

This clearly took them by surprise as they let out a quick 'Oh', whilst hoping the dusty cowboy wouldn't hear.

The dusty cowboy plodded up to the silhouetted gunman, never reaching for his gun. When he got close enough, he could see the type of man he was dealing with, or should I say gentleman, his hair was a dark blonde and combed, stretched and styled within a inch of it's life, he had a thin mustache that clearly needed daily maintenance, his skin looked as if dirt or sweat refused to cling to it and at the end of his fine suits' sleeves he held a volcanic pistol, glistening in it's clear disuse. The cowboy had his face mostly covered by an old bandana but his eyes alone were enough to terrify the poor gentleman, as they burned with a ferocity for his captured shooter. The cowboy dismounted his horse with a huff and started to unbutton his coat, looking from the gentleman to his buttons as if about to tell him off. Once he had undone it he slapped the coat over his saddle to reveal his worn boots, jeans that had so many repairs and stitches they looked like they could be pin stripped, on his waist was two heavy revolvers and over his plain shirt a modest jacket that poorly hid what the the gentleman was there for, as the shining edges of his badge stuck out from his lapel.

'I know who you are and I know what you've got', the gentleman's grip tightened on his pistol.

'Yeah! And what you want with it?', the cowboy kept his hands on his hip, in a annoyed stance.

'Everyone knows you'll be set for life if you get your hands on one of those badges'

'Set for a swift death more like, this thing ain't brought me nothing but trouble'

'Likely story. Ready your pistol and let us duel'

'I've been ready this whole time you damn fool! Why don't ready yours!'

Now, the gentleman had one great weakness; his pride, and whilst he wasn't sure he had cocked his gun, he'd rather die than let a man like this catch him out. With a shrug and a huff the cowboy unpinned the badge and threw it between the two of them.

'PLEASE BE SURE TO BE AT LEAST TEN PACES FROM EACH OTHER!", came a tinny voice bellowing from the strange badge.

'READY YOUR FIREARMS!'

The gentleman's grip became iron tight, as the cowboy's hand floated over one of his holsters.

'FIRE!'

The cowboy fired and the gentlemen fell, these two things happened in a flash of the eye. Only when the gentlemen hit the ground he saw his gun with the hammer all the way forward. With the a huff the cowboy picked up his odd badge and went on his way, to his mind the gentlemen was the same then as he was before they met, unknown to him completely.

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'Bang!'. No one could escape his tyranny, he was the fastest shot known to man, animal or beast; now some tried to charm their way out of getting got by saying things such as, "Sorry mister, i didn't know who you was" or "I wish I could be as cool as you", to which he'd just answer "damn straight" and fire one perfectly placed shot. 'Bang! Bang!'. Well, this was one of those moments, the best of the west was in the prime situation to take out one of the worst gangs in his hometown, The Kelly Neds, three had already been taken out, foolish outlaws who took their eye off the ball, it was only the leader and his biggest henchman left.

'I got you where I want you Kelly!', the valiant hero cried from the shadows.

Now I should mention where all this frontier justice is taking place; in an alleyway behind the biggest general store in town. Theres a big sofa, no one knows who put it there but one thing is for sure, if you can handle the smell its one of the best spots in the whole town of Tomstone, and at this exact moment Kelly was lounging smugly, taking up the whole thing. He was a strange man, as gang leaders go, as for one, he was only sixteen and was considered by most to be a dimwit but underneath his thick egg shaped head there was wit and gumption, but mostly, people just saw the pot belly that clung to the inside of his scratchy cotton shirt and all the red marks from the rash he was cursed with from birth.

'Ah Billy, you found yer way to me'

Kelly's hands just happened to be behind the sofa as the two spoke, so Billy approached cautiously creeping from the shadows, gun hand first and ready to fire at a moments notice; piece by piece Billy entered the light of the alley, firstly his well loved white cowboy boots, shining from the blinding light, revealed his tattered jeans and red shirt with the silver star stitched onto it's centre, the light hit Billy's grinning face and this was a face that shocked many when they saw it, but not Kelly, for he had seen it many times before, in situations just like this, but Billy wasn't like any of the other kid, or anyone for that matter, as his nose was flat and black and sat in contrast to his hairy white face, his ears were long and drooped down the side of his head and top of it were two curved black horns that stuck through the top of his hat.

'So you think you have me Billy, that it? Just because I'm all alone and you got yer shooter pointed right at me, well it aint gunna play out like that'

In that moment the shadows around Billy appeared to consume him whole, as all the light on him disappeared and in a split second reaction Billy could see Ned, flying through the sky like a drunk harpy, with fury in his eyes and feet ready for kicking. Billy tucked and rolled, all the while dodging shots from Kelly. Ned landed on one of the bins, kicking up plenty of rubbish and dust as he did; and for a moment all was still as in the stinky dust filled the air, Kelly blindly searched for his sofa with sweeping motions from his hand but that stopped, along with all movement when he felt a prod in his back.

'I got ya!' Came the unmistakably chipper voice of Billy when he'd won.

'Yeah you win Billy'

'Ah!'

'You thought you could hid from the best in the west'

'You ain't the best, just that Ned messed it up'

'Ah guys'

'Well who ever did mess it up, i'm mighty grateful'

'Guy! Help! Ah!'

It was then that the dust finally settled to reveal Ned, lying in his scuffed CCC official T-shirt and well worn jeans with a leg pointed the wrong direction. All pretense of superiority and hatred between the two boys vanished the moment they saw their injured friend. Billy sprang into action with a shocked 'Oh dang', as he sprinted out of the alley like a splintercat , whilst Kelly said nothing and held his friend's hand as he clenched it in pain. Billy's feral sprinting shot him out the alley like a bullet as he ran out of sight towards the town centre.