This is Day 1 of 100. One-shot 1 of 100. I hope to publish one one-shot every day for 100 days during 2018. That being said, I hope you enjoy.

Wolfwood looks up from an empty glass expectantly. Not expecting booze particularly, not expecting any of the scenery around him in fact. Last he remembered, he'd been bleeding at the feet of God's house itself. But not now. Now instead of facing his own damnation, he's facing a well-stocked bar. He gave a weak smile, not sure which is the daydream. A voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "Aye Nicky you gonna order somethin' or you gonna wait 'til we're dead?"

Instinctively, Wolfwood felt for his wallet, but found none. Nor did he find any wounds or blood. The latter was more unexpected then the former though. Something else may be even more surprising; for the first time in a long time Nicholas D. Wolfwood is entirely unarmed, "Well I'll be," he murmured.

Looking up, Wolfwood eyes the bartender, sizing him up. He had a round face, black hair slicked back like a charming Italian in those old gangster movies, his lips were sharp like a knife. He wore simple black, head to toe, not unlike the militant priest at his bar. But his eyes were glinting, a beautiful shade that somehow Wolfwood had trouble defining in terms of color. He shook his head, "I'll take whatever you've got on hand," Wolfwood said.

"There's a good boy," The bartender said, and poured into Wolfwood's dirty glass. It burns as the crackshot gulps down the booze. Eying him with some interest, the bartender comments, "How long you plannin' on staying here Nicky?"

"However long I can I suppose. I think I've got an appointment."

"Nobody more important than an old friend like me I'd hope."

"No of course not, do I know you from somewhere?"

"I've been a round a long time Nicky, I've helped you out a good bit too."

"Alright help me with this then bartender, where exactly is this place?"

Wolfwood looks around, scanning the empty booths and tables for even a single soul. Somehow he'd known before he started that he wouldn't be finding anyone though. He wasn't surprised. The only thing he hadn't been surprised about today actually. What did surprise him, was when an old man wandered in, a chime of the door's bell heralding his arrival. This old man was dressed all in white, a thick book under his arm a warmth on his soft face. He had short blonde hair, and walked in barefoot, as he gets closer, Wolfwood can smell just the fainted scent of fine silk. The bartender questioned him, "What do you think you're doing here? I think ol' Nicky here is gonna be stayin' with me for a while; one of them sure things ya hear old man?"

The stranger smiled softly, but ignoring the bartender in favor of Wolfwood, he chuckles, "Don't act so surprised Nicholas. You may not know it, but you've always lived close to me and my ilk."

Wolfwood is clearly confused, but the bartender grows more hostile, growling, "What do you think this is? Do you really think he's going your way old man? Everything Nicky here's done. You and I both know where he belongs. I'd bet even he knows where he belongs."

"You don't know Nicholas nearly as well as you think dear friend."

"I'm not your friend, old man."

With the stranger and the bartender eying each other, Wolfwood looks at his empty glass and runs his hand across his hair. He touches his chest and smiles. Putting his elbows on the bar, Wolfwood puffs thoughtfully. As the bartender grins at him, his chest tightens, and when the stranger looks at him, his eyes fill with tears. He looks down, staying silent as the two beings cast judging thoughts over him. These judgments ended when the stranger speaks, "He will come with me."

"Doubtful, he couldn't come with you even if he wanted to. He's a snake; a lion in sheep's clothing. He wheels that cross around as a weapon, he's a killer, no place with you. He belongs with me, where his blood can run as hot as ever and his trigger can run wild. He'll never go with you, because he doesn't want to."

Wolfwood nearly choked, "I want to. I want to so bad..."

He couldn't bring himself to look at the stranger, glared with venom as he balefully glowered at the bartender. Pulling out another cigarette, the bartender sticks out a helpful match. Wolfwood takes it reluctantly. The bartender pours another glass and whispers, "Listen Nicky, we all want to. At least, we all think we do. And maybe on some subliminal level you do, but that's not you. That's not me either, and it hasn't bothered me none; all these years. You've got so much blood on your hands we'll have to install a grate, you were born to go, and you're going to. No matter what you think you want, you know that's where you belong. You're a liar, a killer, and a traitor. How many people have you killed anyway Nicky? Have you ever kept count? That cross of yours sure comes in handy for that, all that killin' all that blood."

Wolfwood cupped his glass in his trembling hands, he whispered almost imperceptibly, "I know." It was then that he heard the unending drip, smelled the smoking powder, tasted the blood. The drip keeps going, and his hands grow sticky on the counter. The blood won't stop because the killing never did, and never will. Perhaps all men are bound to this unbreakable chain, to hold this unending weight on their shoulders crushing their hearts as they beg for mercy, for it to end. But they don't deserve an end. They don't deserve what Wolfwood wants, but knows he cannot even dare to ask.

He cradles the glass of salvation, desperately trying to force himself to drink it all, hoping to choke on it. The bartender watches eagerly, it's as if the stranger doesn't exist for all of Wolfwood's acknowledgment. The bartender cheers, "That's it Nicky, just admit it. Confess and we can go away, don't even bother hoping that you can go with him, just drink up and get ready. I suggest ya think about why you're here anyway, that'll get the gears going."

It was then that he thought of him. "Needle-Noggin," Wolfwood muttered to himself. Surprised, the bartender creeps closer to the priest, "What's that you arrogant shit? You're so caught up in your own hubris you fail to feel the weight of your own actions. You've cowardly gunned down dozens of men, women, and even children, don't pretend you've got a heart because you, me, and that sorry sack of nothing all know it. You belong with me, and you'll never leave. Even if you think you want to, you don't deserve it. And you know that."

Wolfwood's head rests on the table, still puffing on the loose cigarette in his mouth. He jaw tightens as he nods his head, the 60 Billion Double Dollar Man fades from his memories, along with Wolfwood's hopes. Wolfwood sighs, "All I ever wanted was for it to end."

"And congratulations it's your lucky day Wolfwood because it's over. You're done. There's no second chances, no last stands, no forgiveness for the likes of you."

But now the stranger stands up out of his seat, and touches Wolfwood's arm.

"For you son, you can always be forgiven," the stranger promised, and helped the guilty man up from his slumped position. The blood makes an odd peeling noise as Wolfwood's hands come up.

The stranger started to lead him out when the bartender became more desperate, howling, "Get back here you punk! You'll never make it up there! You don't belong there! Your weight, your guilt will weigh you down with all the blood and guns and that damned cross! That damned cross is full of innocent blood and your own sins."

Stopping in his tracks, Wolfwood ashamedly tries to look the stranger in the eyes, but finds that he can only stare at his own black shoes. "My cross is heavy – I – I don't think I can come."

When Wolfwood blinked however, he felt light, his shoulders were as high as they could be, his hands clean. He could smell the air and feel the breeze on his cheeks, and as the stranger clapped his arms around him and patted Wolfwood's shoulder he said, "I know, but that cross Dear Wolfwood, is heavy because it's so full of mercy."

The End

AN:

Hope you enjoyed this short little number, I really enjoyed reading it and exploring Wolfwood as a character.

Remember to read, review, and get your game on!