I've walked these streets...
Plenty of times. This is one of the honey holes of bounties.
Seen a Million Faces...And I rocked them all!
Ain't too sure "Rocked" Is the right term there...
I glance at the Jukebox, Playing age-old songs. Quite a nice place, this is. got good whiskey, too.
"Mr. Bartender, I'd like another shot please." I down the rest of the one I have, flipping the glass over and setting it back on the table.
"Sure thing, Cowboy. Drinkin whiskeys half the cowboy name, ain't it?" He laughs heartily, filling up another shot.
"If I ain't drinkin whiskey, I'm gettin shot at. don't know which I prefer..." I down the new shot, setting it back on the table. I looked up at the Bartender to ask him a question, what it was I still can't recall, before I noticed the look in his eyes. Thought he was lookin at me. Then I heard a deep, gravelly voice speak from behind me. Bout where the door was.
"Jesse McCree?" I sighed, looking over my shoulder.
"Who's askin?" I say, trying to get a look at him. He was about 6 foot, black trench coat. Had some sort of weird mask, blocking most of his face. But most importantly, two guns on his hip. Some sort of short barreled revolvers, maybe shotguns.
"The person who's gonna collect your bounty." I turn around, looking at him, and he holds up a wanted poster.
"You ain't the smartest knife, are you. Usually when you're collectin a bounty, you don't tell him. Bout like sayin, Hey Partner, I'm gonna blow you brains all over this poor mans bar." I stand up, putting a hand on my revolver.
"I don't give a damn. Not like you cou-" He was cut off. From seeing my draw my gun, or the bullet that went through his head, I don't know which. But I know two things. One, the last thing that went through his mind?
That bullet.
Two?
I need another drink...
Cus I'm a Cowboy,
On this Steel Horse I ride,
I'm Wanted!
Dead or Alive.