Hey yall. GuillermoGaming here, aka Tex1911. Its been awhile eh? I'm back for now I guess.
Gunfire perforated the night, with sporadic flashes of light.
A young Texan had gotten himself in yet another firefight with Mexican drug smugglers sneaking weed across his section of the Rio. There were five, all of which were armed with automatic weapons. All the Texan had was his trusty Winchester 30-30. He was huddled behind the flatbed of his worn out 2008 Chevy silverado, occasionally taking a shot from underneath the suspension. Unless he could end this firefight in a hurry he woulnd't live to see his family agian. In desparation, he reached into his coat and pulled out the bottle of Jim Beam he carried with him. He uncorked the bottle, tore off a peice of his shirt and stuffed it in the neck. Then he took the engraved Zippo lighter his wife had given him, lit the shred of cloth, and hurled it over the bed.
His efforts were rewarded by a stop in some of the gunfire, a bright flash of light, and screaming.
He steeled himself with breath, then broke cover and charged. a large swath of desert grass was burning, and the charred remains of two of the smugglers in the center of the blaze. One stuck his head out from behind the lip of a draw, and got a 30 cal shot for his efforts. another stood up and began spraying from the hip. He also took a shot to the gut. From behind, the Texan heard a foot fall. He chambered his last round and spun, looking into the barrel of the last smuggler's AK. There was a flash of light, and the Texan knew no more.