With the young boy in tow, Wyatt retreated from the charred remains of Shooter’s Draw. He climbed his way up a large sand dune and once on top began heading towards five men sitting around a large vehicle. The vehicle had four large rotor blades attached to a central mast. The chassis beneath was a closed cab ship design with a vertical rotor attached to a tail at the back of the chassis. It had multiple seats and a sliding metal door on either side of the frame. At the front of the cab was a cockpit with large windows and a vast array of buttons, switches, and slides on the dashboard in front of the two seats. Rotorcades were the easiest way to transport multiple people across the vast desert. Sitting around the rotorcade were five men.
The lawmen were all in their mid-twenties to thirties besides one man who was clearly older. They all sported the same outfit Wyatt was wearing, a grey jacket over a grey vest with black pants as well as the bronze star over their hearts. Two of the men wore large wide brimmed hats, one a blonde man with a short goatee the other a brown long haired man with no facial hair. The other two were a short built man and a tall slender fellow.
“Osman! Morgan’s body is on the other side of that dune, go get it.” Wyatt yelled to one of the five men around the rotorcade. The older man, a tall balding hulk of a man, stood up and threw out the cigarette he had been smoking. He began trotting up the sand dune towards Wyatt and Shooter’s Draw.
“That was quick Wyatt! Was he that far gone?” the blonde man yelled to Wyatt from the rotorcade.
“What happened over there?” the slender fellow too yelled to Wyatt.
Osman, the older lawman, had made it up far enough the dune to speak to Wyatt.
“Who’s the kid?” he asked Wyatt as the two passed one another.
“The future.” Wyatt coldly responded. Osman stopped and looked back at Wyatt as he continued on towards the rotorcade.
“Slick! Get the ‘Cade started, we got a long trip ahead of us,” Wyatt yelled. The slender fellow quickly jumped up and dashed to the cockpit. He flung the door open and ducked into as he did, the door of the cockpit slid upwards in a rotation. Slick jumped into the seat and began frantically flipping switches, buttons, and began pushing a slide which began the spinning of the rotor blades.
The other lawmen slowly began getting up and throwing out their cigarettes. The blonde man hopped into the other seat inside the cockpit and the remaining two opened the two sliding doors on the back of the cab to the rotorcade. They both hopped in and found seats amongst the benches within the rear of the cab.
Wyatt approached the cab and slung the unconscious body of Tombstone into his arms like a baby. The long haired and the short lawman both helped Wyatt into the cab of the rotorcade as the rotor blades began spinning intensely fast. Both of the men in the cockpit turned to the window separating the two ends of the cab and looked at Wyatt. He gave them a thumbs up and pointed towards Shooter’s Draw and then pointed down. The two lawmen in the cockpit nodded and turned back to face the control panel on the dashboard. A loud whirring noise began to be created by the spinning blades.
The rotorcade slowly began to lift off of the ground and at first hovered just above the ground before the rotor blades began spinning even faster and the cab began to lift at a gradual pace. As if lifted faster the whirring sound became deafening. In seconds the rotorcade was towering over the mighty dune that had taken both Wyatt and Osman minutes to cross. Slowly the nose of the cab pointed downwards and the rotorcade began moving forwards and after slight rotations in the direction of which it faced, it headed for Shooter’s Draw. Within seconds the rotorcade looked down on the charred wasteland that was once the most wicked town in the world. The nose of the cab returned to a level position and then the rotorcade slowly began to descend towards the ruins beneath them.
Osman standing with the body of Morgan Brooks on his back was waving towards the Rotorcade as its blades slowed and it approached him on the ground. As it landed, the dark haired man and the short man threw open the door to the rotorcade and rushed out towards Osman. Osman struggled to carry Morgan’s body but when the men reached him the three of them quickly brought the corpse to the rear of the cab. They threw the body of the once great outlaw onto the floor of the rotorcade at the feet of Wyatt who still held Tombstone. The three lawmen hopped back into the rotorcade and found seats amongst the benches once again. The blades began spinning intensely fast again, creating that deafening whirring sound again. In minutes Shooter’s Draw was gone, out of sight. Tombstone while he was held in that rotorcade had one of the strangest dreams.
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He awoke in a sea of black fire. Yet he could stand and walk, he saw nothing beneath his feet. Tombstone walked for an eternity within that sea of flames. Eventually he heard a faint coughing. He followed the coughing until it felt like it was right before him. He held out his hands and separated the flames before him to find another person within those flames. The man had deep dark skin, the light from the flames danced off his skin in bright glows. His long dark hair sat straight down his body, covering his face and much of his upper shoulders. His face was shrouded behind his hair, Tombstone could get no sight of it. The man sat on a chair of those black flames, they seeped from his legs and his back to create the chair, like he was the chair itself too. The man showed no sign of pain, he sat there quietly occasionally coughing then quiet once more.
“Hello,” Tombstone faintly muttered. It was all the young boy could muster, this felt like a dream, but too much like reality. He could feel the heat of the flames but touching them did not hurt him. He could feel the passing of time, but he was in no place that time reached. He slowly approached the man sitting in the flames.
“My name’s Tombstone, who are you?” he hoarsely asked as he neared the man. The man slowly raised his head to look at Tombstone, his hair parting away from his face as he did. As his hair parted Tombstone got a good look at his face and froze in fear, the dead man from the newspaper clipping was now staring at Tombstone. The young boy stumbled back away from the sitting man.
“A…am…am I d…de-…dead?” he stuttered as he stared at the sitting man. The man just blankly stared at Tombstone. Slowly the flames on the man began to spread across his whole body. In an instant he was gone, replaced by those nightmare black flames and the abyssal skeleton within them. Tombstone lay frozen in fear, he saw Morgan’s death, he saw the deaths of every one of the outlaws from Shooter’s Draw. Then the real nightmares began, the sea of black flames around Tombstone grew wild and began raging. Soon Tombstone could see humans of all kinds in the flames, their skin burnt off them in an instant. The screams of the tortured souls as they burned filled Tombstone’s ears and mind. He tried to hide his eyes from the gruesome sights before him, but he could not escape the screams and wails. The agony began to seep into Tombstone, he too felt as though his skin was burning. He could smell the horrid smell of charred flesh, it burnt his nose and when he tried to breathe through his mouth all he could breathe was putrid hot smoke that filled up his lungs. Tombstone began choking on that smoke, inhaling more and more with each gasp for air. All around Tombstone as he choked were more and more men, women, and children being burnt to death. The wails and screams were all that could be heard, so deafening Tombstone could not hear himself cough. Just as fast as the horrid hallucinations in the flames had appeared, they vanished. The flames calmed and became once again just a sea of black flames, no raging inferno. Soon the abyssal skeleton and the nightmare flames too were visible before those flames receded back into the man who had been sitting before Tombstone moments ago. Tombstone could breathe again, the burning sensation inside and around him had faded. He stared intently at the man before him.
“I am Calamity,” the man spoke as he faded into the sea of flames around them.
Tombstone once again had to endure the nightmares of those black flames. When he finally awoke, his stomach churned, and he vomited. He saw before him the lifeless body of the man who raised him. Tombstone began crying and screaming at the outlaws around him in, he barely noticed the shackles around his hands and feet and the chain that connected them. The deafening whir of the blades above the cab muted the young boy’s cries as he stared at Morgan’s corpse. He attempted to move but flailed around and fell next to the corpse.
The blonde man leaned forward from his seat, across from the young boy, and picked him up by the chain. He laughed as he threw Tombstone into the wall of the cab, as did the other lawmen in the vehicle. Tombstone attempted to move by wiggling himself back up into a sitting position, he had landed upside down against the wall with his back to the lawmen. As the young boy began to wrestle himself into a sitting position, he was once again picked up and rotated back into a sitting position. The blonde man, who had grabbed him, grabbed Tombstone by the back of his head and slammed his face into the window.
What the feeble boy saw amazed him, he saw rolling hills of green grass and in the distance in one direction was a tall mountain range the other he could make out what he thought was the ocean. For a few moments he forgot about Morgan, about the nightmares, and the beating in the cab, he was dazzled by the sight before him. Tombstone could not take his eyes off the land beneath him as the rotorcade soared forward. Eventually he saw the coastline of the ocean come into view, and as the mountains to other side faded another coastline too came into view. The two coastlines careened towards one another as the rotorcade continued on. Eventually they came to a point, a thin land bridge no wider than ten kilometers. The rotorcade began its descent towards the land bridge, Tombstone could see a massive city not far ahead from them. He beamed with excitement as they approached the city. It was all you could see besides the ocean in each direction. It encompassed the whole width of the land bridge it was on.
Palacia is the grandest city on the planet. The capital city of the Danerin Confederation the largest alliance of nations, states, and kingdoms in the world it houses people from all walks of life and cultures. The city is situated on a vital land bridge between the two continents of Estria and North Estria, in fact it is the only bridge between the two continents. A large canal runs through the center of Palacia. All types of trade is done through that canal, which brings travelers from all over the world. The many elite universities bring some of the most intelligent people to the city as well, it’s a leader in innovation and science. It is also where the Magistrates from each nation within the Danerin Confederation convene and pass legislation that affects the entire Confederation. The architecture of the city is as ancient as the city itself, but houses structures that have been constructed over the course of the city’s life. For over a thousand years the city has served as a religious, scientific, and artistic center amassing the largest population in the world.
The rotorcade descended towards a courtyard about 500 meters away from the most massive structure within the city, and the biggest Tombstone had ever seen. He was captivated by it as the rotorcade got closer. A massive quartz staircase made up of giant thirty meter tall slabs, much too big to be used by a person, led up to an even more massive foundation. On either side of the massive quartz staircase are two smaller quartz staircases with railings that can be used to get to the massive courtyard before the three massive buildings on top of the foundation. On the top side of each step on the quartz staircases, is a slab of obsidian contrasting to the white sides of the stairs. The courtyard before the mega structure has an intricate flower design that laces and weaves through the courtyard. The massive structure, the Grand Lexopolis, is the home of the Danerin Assembly, the convening of the Magistrates of the Confederation, as well as the Lawman Society and the Court of Heavens. The three massive structures form together to create one mega structure. The quartz walls are held up by many marble pillars with a spiral shape and stand at least a hundred meters above the foundation. The pillars are massive, each donning a platform at the top of the shaft. On the top of each platform are giant marble sculptures of various men and women from many different eras. These sculptures hold the roofs to the three buildings. The building themselves make a giant horseshoe shape. On each end of the building, the sculptures hold up an architrave that leads to a frieze. Each frieze holds a cornice, all of them gradually decreasing in size as they increase in height. On top of the cornices is a small ten meter ring of another set of marble columns ending in even more intricate sculptures that hold up cast iron domes cased in gold that end in large metal spires that reached into the sky. The twin domes are massive in their own right, but they pale in comparison the massive half sphere dome between them. The massive structure is a perfect half sphere that sits perfectly between the twin domes. It too is cased in a thin outer shell of gold that encompasses the entire dome. The mega dome towers above every other structure in Palacia and can be seen from all across the massive city. To Tombstone it was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen.
The rotorcade landed in the courtyard behind the buildings and the staircases. As the blades slowly came to a stop, the lawmen threw open the doors opened and grabbed duffel bags from behind their seats. They began exiting the cab one by one with, stepping over Morgan's corpse as they did. Wyatt grabbed Tombstone by the chain and threw him over his shoulder as he jumped out of the cab. The two pilots jumped out of their seats after the blades finally came to a stop, they both grabbed a duffel bag from behind their seats as well. Osman and the two men who helped him grab Morgan’s corpse, again helped him carry the corpse out of the rotorcade.
Tombstone looked around as Wyatt took him closer and closer towards the buildings.
“What is this place?” he asked faintly. He could see his own breath the air was so frigid. He noticed that each of the lawman’s breath was visible as well. His fingertips began to sting at every cold lash of the wind’s whipping. He noticed the vast city beneath the giant foundation that he was on, even the tallest spire in that city was nothing to the massive gold dome before him.
“That’s the Lexopolis, man’s crowning achievement,” Wyatt responded, Tombstone could hear the awe in his voice. Immediately his like for the city and the structure before him crumpled. If Wyatt liked the city, Tombstone could not.
As the lawmen approached closer to the massive structure, they were soon met by an armada of other lawmen, they too dressed in the grey jackets and black pants. Eventually Tombstone was handed off to a few other lawmen. He tried to wrestle himself free as Wyatt handed him off but he could not muster the strength. All he could do was turn towards the man with the eyepatch.
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“I’ll kill you, I swear,” he muttered as he was handed away. Wyatt at first seemed shocked as he looked back at the young boy, but soon a dark smirk formed across his face. He stared intently at Tombstone.
“I’ll be waiting,” was all Tombstone could make out before Wyatt was rushed by another wave of lawmen. They clamored about his battle with Morgan and who the young boy was. In an instant Tombstone could not see Wyatt and was left to take in his new surroundings. He was carried by two young lawmen, both barely seemed over the age of seventeen. One seemed extraordinarily skinny while the other sported a large burn mark on his face. They carried Tombstone into the right side of the massive dome, into a building under the smaller dome.
The inside of the building sported ornate staircases and many pillars jutting into the massive vaulted ceiling above them. Balconies laced around the inside of the building as it increased in height, leading deeper into the second and third floors. The floor of the first floor sported a fine red carpet. Many lawmen passed through the wide hallways of the floor. The two young lawmen walked Tombstone towards a grand staircase against the opposite wall. They took him to the left of the staircase where it jutted deep down under the building into the foundation beneath the mega structure. Tombstone could not count the minutes it took them to reach to the bottom, he was dazing in and out of consciousness. The events of the day were finally hitting the young boy, his mentor had been killed, he was bitten by a seeing snake… It donned on the young boy that maybe everything he was experiencing was death. He thought maybe he had reached heaven, surely someone bit by a seeing snake could not live to tell the tale. He began to finally calm himself down to this thought, just as the two lawmen and he reached the bottom of the eternal staircase.
At the bottom level was a huge labyrinth of cells and gates. The two lawmen walked Tombstone towards a small cell within a much larger cell. The little cell acted as a small vestibule between the giant courtyard of a cell and the hallway to the staircase. It’s used as a holding cell for criminals awaiting trial before they are set loose into the chaos that is the famous Carcopolis the Prison City. The young boy sat there in quiet as he contemplated his new life in heaven or hell. He convinced himself that awaiting him was a trial for his future, something he could not have been more right about.
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Shortly after giving Tombstone to the two young lawmen, Wyatt was crowded by waves of lawmen asking him about his journey.
“How’d you find Morgan?”
“What was he like?”
“You killed him?”
“Was it hard?”
The questions flooded in, and they seemed endless. Wyatt raised his hand and as he did they questions became a murmur and then silence.
“I, Wyatt Stapp, have killed the Predator of the West Sands Morgan Brooks.” He said to the crowd of men gathered around him. Wyatt turned towards his gang to see them carrying the body of Morgan towards the central building under the massive gold sphere.
“Now if you will excuse us all, we have some business to attend to,” he shouted to the crowd as he weaved between them and towards his gang. He quickly caught up with them as they slowly approached the building before them.
“Always the showman,” Osman said to Wyatt coldly.
“Osman if you were half the man I am at this age, when you were this age, you’d a been the biggest showman,” Wyatt joked as he slapped Osman on the shoulder. The other men in the group began laughing too.
“Yea Osman, ‘cuz of Wyatt here we all gon’ get a fat lump of cash,” Slick said to the old man as he carried the corpse with him.
“The money ain’t the problem,” Osman began as he started staring intently at Wyatt, developing into a sinister glare. Wyatt stared back at the old man unfazed by the glare he was on the receiving end of.
“What you boys did out there on the way to this tha- “
“What we did was kill the wickedest man on the planet, now I know that you two used to be partners, but would you please be as kind as to remember that I too shared a bond with that corpse you are carrying. Now if I can set aside my former bond with that man to make him atone for the sins, he committed than I think you should as well Osman.” Wyatt sharply responded. His words hung together like a deep hiss. His eyes beamed at Osman like that of a snake before it strikes. Osman turned back towards the corpse he carried, and he tightened the strap on his duffel bag pulling it closer to his back. Wyatt too turned away.
The men eventually entered the massive building, the open first floor had many stunning sculptures and art pieces. In the center of the floor was a massive grand central staircase, and across from it a massive pair of doors. Across the pathways of the building were ornate red carpets with a golden trim. The lawmen approached the pair of doors and opened them to another staircase. The men carried Morgan Brook’s corpse up the staircase and eventually entered into a massive theater like room. They came out onto a small stage in front of a massive array of rowed seats slowly staggering up and away from the stage.
At the base of the seating where the stage met the walkways between them, was a small table that three men wearing curly white powder wigs sat at. The three men almost looked identical, the one sitting in the center had a large birthmark under his right eye, the man to his right had a thin white mustache, and the man to the opposite side sported a monocle over his left eye. They each wore exotic fur coats over pin striped, black suits. On the table before them lay three gavels each next to a small circular wooden block.
The men whispered amongst one another as the lawmen approached them. As they came under a spotlight of natural light shining onto the stage the men dropped the corpse and kneeled before the three men.
“Speakers of the Assembly, before you we have brought the corpse of the now disposed Morgan Brooks.” Wyatt spoke confidently as he looked up from his kneeling position. He looked at the three men behind the table, the central one motioned to the men behind Wyatt. Wyatt then turned to his gang and motioned for them to head back down the stairs with his hand. They all stood up and arranged themselves into a single file line before heading down the stairs. Wyatt returned his head to staring at the floor until the massive doors could be heard closing. He then stood up and raised his head to face the three men before him.
“Everyone who knew the truth about Calamity has been disposed of,” he continued.
“Besides you,” the marked man in the center said flatly.
“Yes, your majesty, besides me,” Wyatt responded calmly. He took a deep breath as he continued,
“Though there seems to be a new development in the Webs of Fate. A young boy was bitten by a seeing snake when I killed Morgan,”
“I don’t see how the death of a child is any massive development in fate,” the man with the monocle spouted.
“Nor how it concerns us, be careful with your words Wyatt you dance on ice,” the man with the thin mustache coughed as he spoke. He reached into the inside of his fur coat and removed a large cigar. He removed a cigar cutter from the drawer next to him at the table, and after swiping a match across the table he lit the cigar.
“The boy controls the Blackfire,” Wyatt said flatly and quietly.
The man puffing his cigar spat the ember out the end of it, making no attempt to put it out as it slowly burned away at the fine wood table the men sat at. The three men stared at Wyatt with their jaws dropped.
“I brought him here alive,” he began before the man with the birthmark raised his hand silencing Wyatt.
“You brought the Blackfire to Palacia?” he asked flatly and calmly.
“Yes he is a young boy, raise him as a lawman and the power is yours. Think of it as a gift for letting me kill Morgan.” Wyatt responded just as calmly.
The three men spun in their chairs to another table facing the vast array of seats. They murmured between the three of them for quite some time before only the man sitting in the center spun back to face Wyatt. Wyatt dropped to his knees in a kneeling position once more still with his head raised facing the Speaker.
“We the Speakers, have voted,” he raised a gavel off the table and pounded it three times into the block next to it.
“The boy shall be raised by the State as a lawman.” Wyatt stood up and bowed before them.
“He should be in the holding cell in the Carcopolis by now,” he said before he turned and proceeded back down the staircase behind him. Wyatt descended down the staircase before him eventually coming upon the massive doors. He opened them and returned to the open ground floor of the building. Wyatt disappeared into the sea of grey jackets and black suits.
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It felt like days before anyone came down to Tombstone. He lay on that cold floor still chained up left to rot in his mind over the day. He could faintly hear the jingling of spurs on the hard marble. The old lawman, Osman, who had been with Wyatt eventually became visible to the young boy as he descended down the stairs. Before long he had walked up to the door of the holding cell. He took a set of keys off a loop on his belt and began fumbling with them. Eventually he held up one key close to his eye and then brought it down towards the lock on the door. He jimmied the key inside and eventually turned it, a loud clunk sound came from the door and it slowly swung open into the cell. Osman entered and then rolled Tombstone onto his back.
“Now stay calm boy, we gon’ get you rested well fed and showered. How’s that sound?” He said reassuringly to the young boy in chains. To Tombstone that sounded like heaven, all he wanted was to sleep in a nice bed after laying on that cold floor for so long. Osman began fumbling again with the set of keys in his hand before once more singling out a key and raising it to his eyes. He took the key and put it into the lock holding the chain together. Again with another little jimmy, a turn, and a clunk the lock popped open and fell to the ground making a loud clank sound that echoed deep into the dark depths of the prison around them. Osman took the key and raised it to the shackles around Tombstone’s feet where he unlocked it and freed the boys feet. He raised the key towards the shackles around the boys wrists and before he put the key inside the hole to the lock he met eyes with the young boy.
“Now when I undo this lock, if you start burning up a storm you’re gonna find yourself in a whole lot worse of a mess than this was. Okay?” Osman again said reassuringly to the boy. Tombstone could hear no malice in the man’s voice, no it sounded different than how any of the outlaws had spoken to Tombstone.
Is this kindness? He thought to himself as he nodded to the old man. With the young boys nodding, Osman put the key into the hole and unlocked the shackles around Tombstone’s wrists as well. He picked the boy up and cradled him as he carried him out of the holding cell. Osman closed the door and turned the latch locking it closed. He started up the long staircase ahead of him, Tombstone in tow.
When they reached the first floor, Tombstone was surprised to see the many lights of the city lighting up the night sky. He could not see any stars in the sky above like he could back home, but the city had its own stars. Osman carried the boy further up the staircase to the second floor. There Tombstone found himself in a small room with a single table and a man sitting behind it in a black suit.
“Yes this is the boy you were told about, the one the Assembly had the room arranged for,” Osman said to the man behind the desk as he set Tombstone down sitting in a cushioned chair on the side of the room.
“Yea the one from Shooter’s Draw?” the man at the desk flatly replied.
“Yes,” Osman turned towards Tombstone and motioned for him to join him standing over the desk. Tombstone hopped up and walked up to the desk, his eyes barely peeking above it.
“Go on tell him your name boy, he’s gotta set you up an identification card,” Osman finished as the boy arrived at the desk. He grabbed the young boy at his waist and lifted him up so he could see the man sat behind the desk. A small typewriter sat in front of the man, and a small ink pad and a stamp.
“My name is Tombstone,” the young boy said. The two men looked at each other with a face of confusion.
“You say Tombstone?” the man behind the desk asked. He looked up at the young boy being held above him. The young boy nodded.
“Alright, Tombstone it is,” he said as he began typing away at the typewriter. He raised a small camera up to the boy’s face and took a picture. The picture slid out the top of the camera. With an expressive slam of the last key the typewriter dinged and a small card popped out the top. The man grabbed the card and placed it before him on the desk, he grabbed the picture and put it over the card before pressing a hot iron to it. He then grabbed the stamp and slammed it into the ink pad and then back down onto the card. He handed the card back to the boy. It had a picture of the boy and read,
Tom B. Stone
“Make sure you get that picture updated every five years,” he said before motioning to the door behind him.
“Welcome to the Lawman Society.” He said as Osman and Tombstone passed through the door and into a long hallway. They traveled down the hallway, passed many large rooms that Tombstone struggled to see inside of. Eventually they arrived at another staircase and headed up, this time coming out into a smaller hallway. Every few steps they passed another door on each side of the hallway leading to rooms.
“These are the dorms,” Osman said to the young boy.
“It’s where you’ll be living for the next ten years.” He finished flatly as they arrive at the end of the hallway. There was a door that Osman had to fumble for a key again to get through. Once on the other side of the door Tombstone saw a small room with three doors. The door in the middle had a nameplate on it that read,
Madison
The other two doors had no nameplates. Osman motioned for Tombstone to enter the room to the left. Tombstone entered the room to find a small room much like the small home he had grown up in. There was a bed in one corner by a window, a closet opposite the bed, a small table not far from the foot of the bed and a small kitchen with an icebox and a stove behind the table. Before Tombstone could take it all in, he heard the door slam behind him followed by another slam. Tombstone raced out of his room to the little room and tried to open the door back to the hallway, but it was locked. Tombstone turned his back to the door and slumped to the ground in defeat. He sat there crying for hours before the door in front of him slowly opened.
A young boy around the same age as Tombstone walked out of the room. He was wearing loose fitting pajamas and was rubbing the sleep dust out of his eyes.
“Why are you crying?” he asked Tombstone faintly and sleepily. He came and sat down across from Tombstone.
“Everything is so different, I wanna go home, I want Morgan back, I don’t wanna be here anymore.” Tombstone whimpered back to the boy. He looked up at the young boy who stared back with a puzzled face.
“What’s your name?” he asked Tombstone.
“Tombstone,” he replied.
“Really? You have a cool name too? I’m Bat.” Bat Madison held out his hand to shake Tombstone’s. Tombstone reached his hand back out and shook Bat’s.
“Lemme see your ID card, no way your name is Tombstone, you might have taken my spot for coolest name in school.” Bat asked excitedly as he jumped closer towards Tombstone. Tombstone fished in his pocket for his card and found it. He handed it to Bat slowly before dropping it into his lap.
“How old are you? You can read?” he asked sheepishly.
“I’m only seven, but yea I can read, you are telling me you can’t?” he asked Tombstone back as he stared at his card.
“Hey this here says your name is Tom. That doesn't really sound like a cool lawman name.” Bat muttered in an annoyed tone. He began to slump into himself. Thomas looked back at his card in the boy’s hands. Suddenly Bat’s body jolted up.
“Hey! I got it, call yourself Thomas.” He said as he jumped standing up. He held the card out in front of him and closed one eye as he stared at Tombstone and the card.
“Thomas Stone sounds way cooler than Tom Stone,” he continued as he threw the card back into Tombstone’s lap.
“That way you can stop calling yourself Tombstone too. No one likes a liar,” he finished as he turned back towards his door. As he opened it and began to enter, he turned back to Tombstone.
“Maybe now you can have a better night, this may not have been Tombstone’s home but maybe it can be Thomas’. And maybe Thomas and I can be friends?” he said as he closed the door behind him. Tombstone sat there staring at Bat’s door. He looked back down at his card and then shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans. He stood up and entered his room, where he threw himself onto his bed. He passed out almost instantly.
Thus was the end of Tombstone. For the rest of his life, he would go by the name Thomas Stone. But it would never leave him, he never went away. That little boy lived on deep inside of Thomas. A hatred so deep had burned in that boy, that burning lived on in Thomas. That rage and anger, the pain and suffering he endured. Tombstone had directed it all at one person when he had lay on the cold hard floor of the Carcopolis. Deadeye Wyatt.