Feel

A loud gunshot is heard ringing amidst complete blackness. Suddenly, light enters the scene, showing the video of a bank with blood all over the windows from inside the building. Another gunshot is heard following, this time destroying the glass of the left window. A body is seen falling with the glass, very clearly shot thrice in the head, and missing an eye.

The screams of two frantic women are heard in response to this, and are seen fleeing from the bank. Their clothes are spotted with blood and their hair is messed up as they run. One of the women fell to the ground over the dead body, falling directly onto it. She screamed in horror at the extremely graphic condition the body was in, covering her mouth and beginning to cry.

The sounds of boots are heard approaching her from behind, as the shadow of an unknown figure begins to completely cloak her. She quickly realizes what must be happening, and widens her eyes. The cocking of a gun is heard and the barrel of said gun is pressed up against her neck. She tightly shuts her eyes, realizing what is about to happen.

"If you're going to..." she begins, gasping for air briefly amidst irregular sobs. "...Make it swift, I beg of you."

A gunshot echoes in the air once more as the view changes to the skyline. The sky is a pinkish yellow with a few clouds in the sky as the sun is starting to set. The woman's body is then seen on top of the man's, though she is covered up by the blood that came from her and the man.

The man who sat her is knelt down looking down at her and the man, still covered in the shadow of the building. He whispers something to their corpses before getting up, adjusting his hat a tad. He looks down and sighs, shaking his head back and forth and formulating a silent chuckle.

The cocking of yet another gun is heard behind him, prompting him to turn around into the light of the setting sun. His appearance now revealed, he sported a wide, toothy grin and was missing much of his front teeth. His right eye was swollen looking and cut right above it, while his left eye was bloodshot. He had black, this hair that covered much of his ears and dropped down over his forehead. He wore a black and grey Mexican-style poncho over his body and has a white, collared shirt underneath. He wore jeans with dark blue chaps covering them up with black, marked up boots. He wore two belts, one hanging over his crotch and one more tightly wrapped around his waist. He had a patterned gun holster on his right hip and a bandoleer hanging over his chest, with much of the bullets missing from it. He held a black revolver in his hand that was rusty on the barrel.

"Evening to ya, Sheriff," the man said, laughing coarsely. He spat some blood to the side and rubbed his mouth, staring at the bodies.

The sheriff, who was this time cloaked in the shade and covered by the sun from behind, slowly approached the man with a shotgun in hand. The man raised his arms smiling, still holding onto his revolver.

"I bet you know the drill by now," the sheriff said, his voice deep and his accent was a very thick Southern droll.

The man carelessly dropped his revolver, not even bothering to lower it gradually. It struck the dead woman's head and landed beside the two. The sheriff stopped moving and observed the man, hearing the brief creaking of the wooden floor inside of the bank. His eyes darted to the bank doorway. The man noticed the marshal becoming distracted, and quickly pulling out a knife, darting to the sheriff.

"You think I'd be alone?" he laughed. "I ain't an amateur."

The sheriff quickly turned to the man running at him, firing his shotgun but barely missing. The man leaped onto the sheriff, shoving his knife into his shoulder. The sheriff groaned in pain, pushing the man to the side. He rolled across the dirt, getting up quickly, and trying to go for the kill.

The sheriff lifted up his coat and pulled out his own revolver, firing off three shots at the man while he leaped to the side for cover. One bullet his the man's right knee, causing him to fall, while the other two missed and hit the wall of the bank.

The man, lying on the ground wincing in pain, eyed the doorway of the bank and nodded. An unknown figure emerged from the doorway carrying a hatchet that dripped with blood. He ran towards the sheriff who was trying to get up. Caught by surprise, the sheriff was then attacked by the man, and the two engaged in a hold. The sheriff pushed against the man with the hatchet and vice versa, and the sheriff slowly began to get up, pushing the man to his knees. The sheriff yelled out in pain from his shoulder, but managed to stand up. He grabbed the hatchet from the man's left hand and whacked him in the neck. The man let out a muffled groan before falling face down.

The sheriff looked at the hatchet and flipped it briefly, nodding at it. He approached the other man who was gripping his knee tightly, kneeling down over him.

The sheriff was now in full view. He had a dark brown hat on and a sported a white beard, though with no mustache. He had on a light brown jacket that hung down to his knees, a light pink and white patterned shirt, and a black buttoned vest. His badge was on his left breast, soaked with blood. He held the hatchet up to the man's face.

"You're a fuckin' idiot if you had even considered you and that little shit over that were enough," he said, glaring down at the man. "This is child's play as far as I'm concerned. What a waste of time. Robbin' a bank? When has that every worked out well for y'all?"

The man began to laugh uncontrollably, looking at the sheriff. He rolled over onto his back, laughing hysterically and letting go of his knee gradually. He pulled body upwards and sat, shaking his head back and forth once more. He pinched the bridge of his knees and then let his arms rest, staring at the sheriff, who was in confusion. He sighed and then slowly pulled himself up, seemingly uninjured by his busted knee. He cracked his back and shook his arms loose, stretching out his strained muscles.

"The hell's this?" the sheriff asked in disbelief.

"You're hilarious, Sheriff" the man said, his laughter dying down now. "I wasn't here to take any of the goddamn money."

"I'm not having any of this shit tonight," the sheriff tsked.

He lunged the hatchet at the man, though he quickly dodged, laughing at the sheriff's failure. The sheriff pulled out his revolver yet again, firing twice into the man's chest. He coughed up blood and fell to the ground yet again, and continued to laugh.

The man got up yet again, ignoring the bullets embedded in his chest. The sheriff angrily continued firing a couple rounds into the man's chest, though nothing was happening save for briefly slowing him down. He ran out of ammo in his magazine, frantically dropping the magazine and hastily reaching into his back pocket to pull out another. He began to load it into his revolver, though the man reached him. He smacked the revolver from his hand and grabbing the marshal's neck, lifting him into the air. The sheriff began to frantically struggle and shake around, squeezing the man's hands and trying to loosen his grip on his neck.

"Keep on tryin', Parker," the man remarked. "It'll do you no good, I assure you."

Sheriff Parker looked at the man, choking, and spotted the man's eyes glowing a reddish hue. His left pupil was in the shape of the number '9,' and his right pupil was in the shape of a diamond. He noticed the bullets slowly coming out of his chest, and the blood that was formerly coming out of it was slowly returning to the initial wounds, and they were beginning to close up.

The man let go of Parker just before he was about to die. Parker fell to his knees with no energy left, coughing and gasping for air. He spat out some blood and tried to inhale, though struggled significantly. He gripped his throat, which was dark red and beginning to bruise.

The second woman who was fleeing from the bank was crouched behind the wall of a nearby building, eyeing the struggling Parker and noticing the man's glowing eyes and healing wounds. She covered her mouth in fear, sweating profusely.

"You know," the man began, dropping to his knees. He grabbed Parker's cheeks and yanked his head up to meet his eyes. "You were wrong about there being just the two of us."

The man eyed the woman, and she quickly darted to the side to run away, though ran into a figure who was standing behind her. She fell onto her butt and looked up at the towering man. She frantically looked at the marshal, who stared at her in horror and began to breathe less erratically.

Two other men appeared on the roof top of the bank and looked down at the man and the marshal, while three others appeared on another roof opposite of them.

The sound of horse hooves were heard slowly entering the scene. Two horses, with two women riding them with bandannas covering their mouths, appeared behind the man the marshal. Their bandannas had upside down hands on them with skulls on the palms.

"Got him, Jack?" the woman inquired, then stared at Parker. "Oh, good to see you, Sheriff Parker!"

"Devil in Hell...," Sheriff Parker remarked, still gripping his throat. He glanced at the woman who was crying out in horror.

Six more men and women appeared on horses coming into the scene, finally followed by a seventh man who was riding a black and white horse. The man was an African American with a noticeable goatee, and he wore a rather distinct outfit when compared to the rest of the others around him. He sported a red coat with a pink and white collared shirt with a black, patterned vest. He had on a salmon-colored hat with bullet holes riddled inside of it. His pants were dark crimson in color, and his boots were thickly black.

He slid off of his horse, walking to Marshal Parker and Jack. Jack stepped to the side, bowing and raising his arms to the Marshal.

"As requested," he said. "It was rather easy to get 'im over here."

"My thanks," the African American man replied.

He approached Marshal Parker, who sat up this time, realizing his defeat. He eyed the woman once more and then sighed, looking down.

"Miss Adler, pray to God now, cause yer about to go meet 'im," he said coldly, facing the man. "As am I, it seems."

"Now, listen up. I want ya to know what your fate will be once you're gone. I'm a rather nice man like that. They're gonna say you met your tragic, untimely demise at the scene of a bank robbery. You were gunned down by an unknown assailant who managed to get away with just about $2,000, and...," Bill began, eyeing the woman and pointing at her. "...Miss Ladder, was it? Yeah, whatever. Anyway, this lady over here. She managed to escape the bank all the way to Redwood where she reported the crime to the Deputy Sheriff, Bill Garrett, who quickly arrived on the scene of Langton and found the deceased Sheriff Parker's remains sprawled out on the ground. It was rather gruesome."

Bill looked at Parker's badge and reached for it, ripping it off his person and holding it. He clenched it tightly and smirked.

"You goddamn disgrace," Parker sighed. "Fucking ni--"

Bill quickly stabbed Parker's badge through his neck, cutting it open. Parker choked and fell to the ground, his blood soaking the dirt.

"Wait, shit," Bill said, shaking his head. "Forgot one very important detail. Silly me."

Bill walked up to Jack, who was grinning at Sheriff Parker's corpse. Bill grabbed Jack by the throat, squeezing it tightly. Jack, confused, struggled to break free, while the others watched in silence.

"Deputy Sheriff Bill Garrett caught the murderer and robber Jackson Fields and brought him to Redwood for public execution. There'd need to be a new sheriff to take up the mantle that the former Sheriff Patrick Parker left behind," Bill said quietly.

He eyed the woman on the horse who spoke earlier. He swiftly let go of Jack, who collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The woman jumped off her horse and pulled out her lasso, quickly hogtying him and hurling him onto the back of Bill's horse. Bill approached his own horse, and the others who were watching got onto the ground and approached their horses, who were hitched behind the buildings.

"I'll see you all later in camp. I got some business to attend to, you know, the usual," Bill remarked. He eyed the woman, and cocked a grin. "'Specially you."

The woman laughed beneath her bandana and began to ride away with the rest. Bill jumped onto his horse, patting it, and then eyeing Jack. He licked some of the blood off of Patrick Parker's badge, and his eyes flashed white with the letter 'A' in his left eye and the shape of a club in his right.

"You'll do well to commit, boy."