*flashback*

The tiny black haired boy ran outside to catch his parents before they departed. When his father was in view he tripped over the long poncho that hung down to the ground.

Said poncho once belonged to his dad but for his 6th birthday it was given to him because he was "becoming a big boy" as his mother had put it.

"Papa!" The boy screamed while laying face down in the dirt.

"What is it, boy?" His father questioned with a slight glance in the boys direction. He was too busy saddling the horses so he couldn't go over to help his son.

The boy gained his footing again. "I wanna come with you!" He pouted with a stomp of his foot.

His mother walked up behind him and ruffled his short black hair. He pushed her hand off of his head; she embarrassed him when she did things like that.

With a heart warming smile his mother laughed, "Don't pout hunny, we're going to catch the big bad burglars and then we'll be back." She walked away and jumped on the now ready horses back and exclaimed "Behave for Nana."

The boy watched as his fathers new poncho flew in the wind and his mothers brown straw cowboy hat bounced with the horses gallop.

He watched as his parents escaped into the sunset.

*end flashback*

That's the last time Alzack saw his parents. They died trying to catch thieves. Thieves that over powered them and held magic pistols to their heads and ended their lives. Alzack will never forget that day…

It was also the last day he ever smiled. Not even a hint of a smile came across his face.

After countless attempts to cheer the young boy up, his grandma gave up, for her health was taking a turn for the worst. She had been taking care of this unhappy boy for 3 years and her old age was beginning to take a toll on her.

"Alzack! Come inside, its time for supper," his Nana yelled out the window with her thick western accent.

He spends day in and day out practicing his shooting techniques. He took up shooting magic pistols not too long after his parents passed. He would wake up screaming from nightmares of looking down the barrel of a gun and being shot in the face countless nights so the doctor recommended he take up shooting to get past his fear.

Little did they know shooting a gun gave Alzack a new meaning to life. He got the thrill of being powerful. When he pulled the trigger he felt like nothing-no, no one could hurt him.

"Don't make me say it again!" His grandma hollered.

Alzack slipped his pistols in his hip holsters. He muttered, "I'm coming-I'm coming.." as he walked away from their barn and up the house steps.

Dinner was silent as Alzack scarfed down his meal and his grandmother pushed her food around her plate. She had been eating less since her health started plummeting but she still made plates for herself.

She looked up at her gandson and said, "you should probably cut your hair soon. It's getting too long." She smiled, "how are you supposed to get a girlfriend with a mop of hair like that?"

Alzacks hair grew long over the years, so long that it covered the right side of his face.

He just huffed and continued to shovel food into his mouth.

"Why do you practice shooting so much?" His grandmother asked, trying to get an answer out of him. This boy doesn't speak much. She thought with a frown.

Alzack mumbled, "to get stronger."

"Why do you need to get stronger my boy?"

That question made Alzack's head snap up and he looked his grandma dead in the eyes. "To hunt down and kill the men who took my parents from me."

"Alzack Connell!" His grandma snapped. "Don't you ever speak like that again!"

Without a word he pushed his chair out and stormed away. Your not my Mama, his mind screamed but he didn't dare say the words to her. Deep down he knew she was in as much pain to lose her son as he was to lose his Mama and Papa.

He ripped the front door open and slammed it on his way out. Once outside he sprinted as fast and as far away as possible. His eyes swelled with tears but he violently wiped them away. 'I'm done crying-done being weak! No more…'

He ran until he reached the town.

Alzack spent his time running around with a bunch of cowboy kids all wielding similar fake guns and pretending to be either robbers or sheriffs. He was the only one with real guns at the age of 9 and all of the kids up until the age of 12 looked at him with envy.

After leaving home, every day he found those same kids and sat and watched them play as he contemplated his life. He was too young to be feeling this old. He was almost jealous of the innocence his friends held..

Sometime later when all of the kids had to return home, the town sheriff approached Alzack. "Boy would you mind coming with me? I need to ask you a few questions."

Alzack looked down at his hands and shook his head. Nana always told me not to speak to the authorities unless she were there with me. Alzack reminded himself.

The sheriff grabbed the front of Alzack's shirt and pulled him off the ground. "Look at me when I speak to you, boy," the sheriff spat. His breath smelled of booze and his eyes looked hazy.

"What's it about officer?" Alzack calmly asked.

"Its about those damn guns 'er always showin' off. Hand 'em over." The sheriff tried to pull Alzacks holsters off of his belt but the boy was quicker than the cop thought.

Without thinking, Alzack pulled a gun out and pressed it against the sheriff's forehead. "Let go of me," he growled. It felt good to be the aggressor for once. The cops around here always roughed Alzack up any chance they got. They became the laughing stock of the town once Alzacks parents died. They couldn't accomplish anything without the town hero's.

The sheriff bellowed out laughter but still held onto the boy. Once again, without the slightest thought, Alzack pulled the trigger.

The sheriff's grip on the boy's shirt loosened as his limp body feel to the ground. Alzack gracefully landed on his feet and spat on the lifeless body of the crooked cop.

That was the first time Alzack killed a man.

With a look around, Alzack turned in the direction of his house and nonchalantly walked away as the noise of the gun echoed through the silent street.

When Alzack found his way home he found his neighbor Mistuo walking up as well.

"Aye boy, whatch'y'all doin'?" Mistuo asked in a western slur.

Alzack nodded his greeting and continued walking along side this strange old man.

"Why ya lookin' upset, boy?" The old man asked.

Alzack looked over and confessed, "I made a mistake my Nana can't find out about."

"Oh boy-oh boy. What'd ya do?"

They reached the barn house and both stopped in the front yard.

With desperation creeping into his voice, Alzack asked, "Will you take care of her? My Nana. There should be enough jewel in her safe to to last. Just be here for her, 'kay? I can't stay in this town anymore.."

The old man was shocked. How could he deny this boy such a request? Mistuo nodded. "But boy, you don't need to leave. I'm sure whatever you did wasn't that bad."

Alzack turned away and headed for the house. "No, I have to go." He sighed then walked into his house.

He slowly trudged up the stairs that led to the top floor then walked into the first room, his room. Memories knocked him back like a blow to the stomach. He fell back against his door.

I'll have time for this later, he reminded himself as he stood up straight and grabbed a shoulder bag. He started filling it with clothes and other essentials.

While looking in his closet for anything else he may need he came across his fathers old poncho. Alzack stood still for a while and just stared down the piece of painful history before him.

In a fit of rage, Alzack ripped the item down from the rack and threw it across the room. He then plopped down on the floor and let the memories take him.

The feel of his mothers long black hair tickling his face as she held him close. His fathers grungy smell after a long days work around the barn. Their laughter filling the air on almost every day. These memories-these are the memories that will haunt Alzack.

He stood up and walked over to the crumpled poncho and felt its light brown material. It smelled a little stale from sitting in a closet for three years but that was nothing he minded. Alzack lifted a few yellow tassels to examine them- to check for fraying. He was thankful to find that the poncho was still in great condition.

Alzack then slipped the material over his head and took one last look around his room. He was going to miss the days where he had his Mama, Papa and Nana. I will miss you all.. I'll be back to visit you again. He mentally promised them.

With a tired sigh, Alzack grabbed his bag and stepped out of his room. He trotted down the steps and heard the humming of his grandmother from the kitchen.

He stood there and listened to her for a moment. But then she stopped. "Alzack," she called. "Is that you? Do ya want somethin' to eat?"

Alzack's legs carried him to the kitchen in an instant. Before he knew what he was doing, he stood in the entrance and watched his grandma bounce around. When she caught him watching her she walked up to him and opened her mouth to ask if he was okay.

She was silenced by his little arms wrapped around her waist. He held her for a moment with his face buried in the crook of arm. He then spoke into her dress, "Thank ya Nana-for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't always what you wanted. But I love you."

Her throat closed up and she squeezed him tighter. She pet his hair and whispered, "you remind me so much of your father.."

They released each other and both tried to hide their tears from the other. Before he lost his will to leave, Alzack turned and walked out of the kitchen and out of her life for ever.

"What a kind boy," the old man said to no one in particular after Alzack walked off of the porch. "I hope that boy doesn't let his demons devour him.." He then stayed on the Connells pourch and watched as the boy-just as his parents did 3 years ago-escaped into the sunset.