Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun
Prologue
An African American FBI agent was in the poor country of Mexico. He was ordered to pick up an old lady by the name of Clarence Rosella and take her back to his station. The African American walked up to the door of Mrs. Rosella and knocked.
" Mrs. Rosella, this is the police. Open up."
There was no answer, so after two minutes of waiting in the scorching sun he knocked again.
" Mrs. Rosella."
Mrs. Rosella didn't answer the door. Her car was parked in her driveway and the lights were on. She was either asleep or she was deaf. Just when the police officer was about to knock for a third time he heard the sound of footsteps.
The officer followed those footsteps to the back of the house. He turned around and stared at a white bag. Flies were swarming all over the bag. It was so revolting the police officer had to cover his mouth with his right sleeve. As the police officer examined the bag even closer, he saw a pair of feet with two pink slippers sticking out. The disgusting dead odors of the bag were so strong it made the officer want to vomit. He bolted away from the bag and returned to his car, where he pulled out the small radio that came with it.
" This is Officer Joey Legacy of the FBI, I would like to report a homicide. Yes, a homicide in…"
The African American FBI agent saw a man in the window. He was bald, like Bruce Willis and Patrick Stewart, had a white shirt and blue jeans. The African American let go of his radio and ran to the trunk of his car to get his shotgun. He opened the truck and crouched down with his shotgun pointed at the house.
" I know you're in there! Come out now!"
The doors of her house swung open as a twenty-something Mexican man stepped out of the house. The only thing the Mexican had was a peach in his right hands.
" Put your hands up! Do you speak English? Put your hands up!" The Mexican was part of a cartel. He wasn't going to give the African the satisfaction of making his hands go up. He should be more worried on his back. " I said put your hands up!"
The Mexican rubbed his peach against his shirt –he saw fat ass Americans do it after buying fruit in the grocery store and he wanted to see why. The Mexican turned around and took a bite of his peach. The peach wasn't so tasty. What was even less tasty was Officer Legacy. Right now the Mexican cartels brother swung his axe downward and cut his head off.