The noise was deafening in the bar, one could barely hear themselves think as the patrons yell over each other in attempts to finish their conversations. The attempts to avoid being talked over only went to start a cycle of increasing volume. There were only two answers to this problem and one of them involved a bloodbath. The other more peaceful option would only mean one hating themselves in the morning. So money slides across the bar and drinks are slid back as those who prefer the silence force themselves to stay inside.

A tan young man approaches the bar and follows suit with the rest of the customers. He’d just woken up and already sweat was starting to leak from his brow. He wipes his forehead setting his shotgun down next to the stool he’s sitting on. He downs his drink and pushes the mug back so that it can be refilled. As he waits for the bartender to attend to him his eyes flicker across the room taking stock of anything even slightly out of the norm. His leg bounced violently as he sat there. His gaze eventual shifted over to the door of the establishment. His eyes water as he’s unable to see past the blinding light.

“Oi, how the lodgings treating you boy?” The bartender pipes up sliding his glass back to him now full. The young man grunts and turns to grab his drink.

“It was good enough.” He says downing his drink.

“Good enough?” The bartender retorts. “ Would you rather have been out in the sands?” He grumbles walking off to attend to another customer.

“Was just being honest.” The young man says as he walks away. “I’m sure there are better places to sleep anyhow.” He continues to himself scratching the back of his head and glancing back over to the entranceway.

“Well, your a picky one ain’t ya?” A voice startles the young man. He turns to find its source. Sitting next to him was a brunette man with green bead eyes, hair down to his chin which itself had hair on it. On his head was an old tan hat with a decently sized brim. It was all brought together by his duster, belt, and buckle, and an orange bandanna around his neck. His eyes pierce through the young man as they shift over to look at him, reading him not much unlike a book.

“W-well, honestly I think its good to know your worth is all and...and I recko-”

“You, reckon your worth bit more than this place, right?” The man in the duster interrupts.

“Yeah…”

“...I can get that. I guess” The man shrugs.”Figure, if ya ain’t got no love for yourself you ain’t going make it far.” He takes a drink from his own mug.”

“Y-yeah.” The young man’s knee starts to bounce a little faster. There was something about this guy that made them nervous. They just didn’t know what it was yet but before he could think anymore about that the saloon door opens causing him to hop in his own seat. He looks back to see a normal customer walk in before going over and finding a table. He watches warily before letting out a sigh of relief as the customer sits and starts banter with someone else.

“Reckon your, more jittery than a naked jackrabbit.” The green eye stranger stated. “You, ‘k there?”

“I-I believe I’m fine” The young man stutters out.

“Believin’ an being two different things there Flick,” The stranger says taking a bite of his food.

“Yeah, and whats you know bout what I am anyhow?” Flick retorts to the stranger, slightly annoyed. More than that, he was off-put; there was something he couldn’t pin down that was nagging at the back of his head.

“Reckon that’s a mighty fine question.” The stranger says in a way that doesn’t help Flicks growing anxiety. “Hey, you’re already at the bar; why not get another drink. That last one clearly ain’t too much for ya, Flick.” The stranger continues to taunt, mumbling the last part.

“....” Flick regarded him for a while before turning to the bar and waving down the bartender, who pretended not to see him. “ That wouldn’t be much a bad idea if I could get some service.” He growled.

“Allow me. Yo bartender hit me with another one, two of them actually.” The stranger declares and turns back to face Flick. “You probably should know better than to insult the owners for future reference. The bartender comes back and drops off two more shot glasses. It’s at this point that something is going off in Flick’s head, sirens loud enough to give him a migraine somethings wrong here but what.

“D-do I know you,” Flick asks, a hand pressing into the side of his head.

“ I don’t know Flick, you tell me.” The stranger says with a knowing smirk. It is at this point where things click into place in his head. The alarms stop blaring as Flick stops bouncing his leg and sits up straight.

“reckon, I don’t remember ever giving you my name.” Flick says coldly.

The stranger smiles and responds. “It might be best for you to take that drink now. Who knows, might be your last.” This response makes Flick gulp. The stranger slides over the drink, and Flick catches it taking a deep breath before downing the drink.

“How’d ya find me?” Flick demands in a hushed tone.

“Don’t matter.” The stranger shoots back.

“Matters to me.” Flick retorts.

“Good at my job.” The stranger states before downing his own drink.

“...I’ll scream, i-i-i’ll fight back. You really goin, cause a scene in a place like this.” Flick points out, motioning at the rest of the armed and currently unaware patrons of the saloon.

“If I got to.” The Stranger stats bluntly. Flick sweats a little bit more.

“Y-you, gotta death wish?” Flick stutters out. In response, the stranger’s eyes slide slowly over at Flick. The iris were narrow and piercing, almost like he could see through him. A shiver went down his spine as the stranger smiled and responded.

“Maybe I do,...maybe I’m just that good, maybe you don’t wanna find out...or maybe you do.” The last part almost sounded like a dare. Flick took another deep inhale and thought to himself. It was just a bluff, right, had to be. However, this did nothing to stop the return of his nervous shaking.

“Your...m-mighty sure yourself,” Flick mumbles.

“Perhaps,” The stranger says.

“Who the fuck are you?” Flick asks. The Stranger pauses, and his smile tilts a little he looks away then looks back.

“Names, Atticus. Atticus Riche.”

A pause floods the room, or maybe it’s only from Flick’s perspective. Everything stops as the chatter surrounding the two fades into white noise. Flick can feel himself get a shade or two lighter as the man known as Atticus sat beside him. He’s heard that name before, along with a few others. A long time ago, actually, but that’s all it was at the time. A name, a distant rumor, like knowing what a duck was but never seeing it. Never thinking you’re going to see it, and now that very dangerous duck was sitting next to him. Worse even, for some reason, that duck has tracked him down and knew his name.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The silence lasted a bit longer as Atticus casually finished his meal. Flick’s eyes darted back and forth, looking scanning the building. He knew if he just tried to straight-up run for it, he’d be dead before he could reach the doors. He looked toward the door, his gun, and then around at the customers. His twitching and shaking started to become a tad bit more noticeable as eyes occasionally glanced at him questioningly, which he ignored. There was a clinking of metal on porcelain as Atticus plate across the bar to the bartender.

“Figure it’s ‘bout time we headed out,” Atticus said, looking through Flick.

“I-I ain’t done drinking here.” Flick said. Atticus raised an eyebrow turning all the way around in his seat to face Flick. Flick could get a glimpse of the metal underneath his duster as one of Atticus’s hands twitched as if to start reaching for it.

“Pardon?”

“ I ain’t done drinking yet!” Flick says louder, kicking out of his seat and standing in Atticus’s face. The stool is kicked into the table behind him, disturbing its residents as some of the plates fall off and smash against the wood floor.

“ ...Da fucks your game” Atticus inquires with a bit of a confused chuckle. Then, almost as if to answer his questions gruff voice comes from behind Flick.

“Hey! That’s my food twinkle toes!” Atticus looks behind Flick in time to see a disgruntled customer pick up his plate from the floor and chucking it at them. Atticus ducked in his seat as Flick jumped for his shotgun. The plate smashes into a person’s body, not too dissimilar in appearance to a pig in clothes. The pig-like man growls in pain and anger before drawing his gun and turning.

“Who the fuck threw that!? I’ll fill you with lead the lot of ya!” The man yelled firing his gun off into a general direction. Chaos began to arise as many other patrons grabbed their guns in self-defense. Tables were flipped and more random shots were fired one of them barely missing Atticus as he walks through the chaos looking for Flick. He spots Flick as he stands up with his gun. Flick turns and see’s Atticus staring at him. No bullets in his gun Flick’s hands blacken, the blackness spread from his hands into his gun before he pulls the trigger and fires it at Atticus.

Instead of bullets smoke flies out of the shotgun and fills the room. Everything goes black as the smoke obscures people’s vision. Coughing and gunshots are heard as Atticus stumbles through the thick smoke. He runs into another person who attempts to swing on him. Atticus ducks the swing and backpedals into a table, falling onto his back. Atticus coughed as he got off his ass the smoke making it difficult to breathe. Atticus feels around the ground and grabs a few fallen glasses and dishes between the scattered bodies.

Atticus takes the fragile items and individually throws them in different directions. The first one hits the ground. The second is a man whose body makes an audible thud to the floor. The third shatters into a wall. Atticus quickly moves toward the wall and places a hand on it. He uses it to guide him to the door and out of the saloon. He bursts through the smoke and chaos only to be blinded by the bleating sun and the light of day.

Atticus lets his eyes adjust as civilians back away. People had noticed the smoke and commotion and crowded around the front of the saloon. Atticus ignores them stepping forward and surveying the immediate area. He spots Flick in the distance making his way down the road as fast as he can. Atticus adjusts his hat and whistles before going into a sprint after him. The crowd moves out of the way as he takes off and clopping is heard in the distance behind him.

“You better, hope, ya got more tricks up your sleeves” Atticus yells as the clopping moves up next to him and his horse matches his pace. Flick turns and watches as Atticus in one motion swings himself onto the back of a horse. He curses under his breath and turns down the nearest corner. “Alright Aja, Let’s go, girl.”He says to his horse as she gallops and turns down the corner after Flick.

As Atticus and Aja turn the corner more smoke billows into the air temporarily obscuring both of their visions. Aja runs through it, sight returning to the two but Flick, nowhere to be seen. Aja stops and Atticus stares back at the smoke. He follows the trajectory of it upward and chuckles to himself. The smoke goes up stopping at the top of a building. “Alright girl, we ain’t done yet. This way.” He takes the reins and she weaves through several buildings letting her gallop as he scans the rooftops. It doesn’t take long for him to spot Flick running across them giving the occasional hop to make it to the other building

“Bingo,” Atticus says, Aja galloping to catch up. He unholsters his revolver and levels it at the top of the buildings taking his time before firing. The bullet flies into one of the roof tiles as Flick steps on it. He slips a little, barely catching himself with one of his hands and quickly scrambling back to his feet. He continues to run across the roof with a renewed fear in his eyes. Atticus fires again the bullet grazing Flicks leg and causing him to grimace in pain.

Flick slings around his shotgun, loading it and pointing it at Atticus as he catches up. Atticus pulls the reins on Aja as the first shot is fired. Aja skids the shot missing. She goes back into a gallop as the second shot is fired and misses her again. Atticus sees Flick fire another shot a vears Aja to the side as it hits a nearby barely. The shrapnel of the barrel spray onto Aja as she whines and slows down a little.

Atticus curses under his breath and watches as Flick attempts to take off again. Atticus reaches to his side and pulls up a rope. He chucks part of it into the air and swings it around his head before throwing it as hard as he can. The circular end of the rope lands just as Flick's foot hits the tile it’s on. Flick's ankle is caught with a tug, and Atticus yanks him off the rooftops into the ground.

“Ah, fuck!” Flick cries out in pain. He rolls on the ground grabbing his sides as Atticus brings his lasso back in and hangs it back on his belt. Atticus hops off of Aja and starts walking towards him. Flick sees Atticus approaching him and his eyes quickly dart around for his gun. He spots it laying on the ground a couple of feet away from him. He struggles up and turns to run over and grab it. He doubles over in pain falling back down before he can get to it.

Flick reaches out for it as a weight is put on his back. There’s a click as something cold is put to the back of his head. Flick stops and stiffens, his hand stopping about halfway to his shotgun. Atticus speaks up, breaking the silence.

“The bar was strike one, roofs? Strike two. My fucking horse?” He says slowly as his boot grinds into Flicks back. “…you reach for that gun. You ain’t ever gonna feel it hit your hands. I’ll put it like that.”

Flick doesn’t say anything, he just slowly drags his arm away from his shotgun. He feels the boot lift from his back as he’s yanked off of the ground.

“Ah! Fuck!” Flick exclaims in pain. Atticus scoffs and pushes him forward. “T-the fuck you want?” Flick stutters out as they walk back towards Aja.

“Reckon you're gonna’ need to be more specific,” He replies.

“You hunted me down…for what? You goin to take me back to yer boss and skin me alive? Force me to be part yer crew er somethin?” Flick continues sweat starting to accumulate on his forehead slowly. His glance falls on his gun, and his eyes widen slightly. “Y-you’re gonna sell me. You're gonna auction my powers off. Give me to the highest bidder like I’m some damn slave!”

“You fucking done?” Atticus asks unamusedly. “If an answer will shut ya up. I’m here for ya bounty. You and yours fucked up a town bout a month back been tracking the lot of you down. The folk there ain’t happy.”

“T-that’s I lie! I heard of you. You ain’t no bounty hunter, no law man!” Flick yells back.

“Lawman? No. Bounty hunter? Well if I weren’t one you’d probably be dead. They pay me more if you're alive.” Atticus says plainly. “Just goes to show. You don’t believe everything your told.”

“Your just trying to get me in a false sense of comfort. Kill me when I least expect it. That’s why they call you the snake.” Flick rambles.

“Yeah, sure. I’m gonna kill you.” Atticus says. “But first I’m going to collect my reward….hold up real quick I need to do one more thing before I tie you up.A bit of medicine for the pain.” He stops and holsters his gun.

Flick, confused turns around. Atticus takes a step forward before connecting his fist with Flicks face as hard as he can. Blood gushes out of Flicks nose as he drops to the ground. His foot twitches but he doesn’t move or get up. Atticus spits on him.

“That’s for the horse asshole.” He says before he proceeds to tie him up. He throws him on Aja’s back and removes the Debris from her before hoping on himself. “Alright, girl. Let’s go” He says as they trek off into the morning sands.