Title: Showdown
Author: Lucidscreamer
Fandom: Westworld
Drabble: 100 word fic
Disclaimer: Westworld belongs to Michael Crichton, Warner Brothers, and any other copyright or trademark holder.


The burn of acid means survival. It eats away Death's face, but not his resolve. He staggers, and you flee. Too slowly...for he follows: cold, implacable. He will not stop until you are dead.

You thought it would be fun. Westworld. Harmless gunplay, robots that bleed.

Medievalworld. Ghost castle, haunted by empty corpses: machine and guest, alike. Your fear stalks you, treading softly in battered boots. The Gunslinger follows. Cat and mouse, fantasy turned nightmare real. You lose, you die.

His damaged sensors; your desperation. Flame is your protection. Is it his destruction?

You walk away.

You should have run.