Tempe woke to the familiar sensation of a hangover. Her head pounded as the world swayed around her. Very slowly she opened her eyes. The room around her came gradually into focus. Slowly, the events of the previous night came trickling back into her mind. The memory of Dolores laid out on the couch like a Roman empress, being pleasured from every possible angle, caused a tingle of excitement to run down Tempe's spine.

She rolled over to put an arm around her beloved only to find ruffled sheets. And they were cold.

Tempe sat up, doing her best to ignore the vertigo, and looked around the room. She spotted Dolores, fully clothed, standing in front of the window, apparently watching the street below.

"Dolores?" Tempe asked, her voice craggy with morning dry mouth.

"Good mornin'," she replied without turning.

Tempe tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Dolores turned, a look of apprehension on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but seemingly couldn't find the words. She shot a nervous glance around the room, avoiding Tempe's eyes.

"About last night," she finally said, but was interrupted by a loud knock. The sound made Tempe flich and caused her headache to throb just that little bit harder.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's Slim," came the muffled reply, "Your train leaves in less than an hour. You might want to get a move on."

"Alright, we'll be right there," she called back. She turned back to Dolores, "We'll have time to sit and talk on the train, if that's okay with you."

Dolores looked like she might object at first, but reluctantly nodded.


William rode up to the checkpoint with the Union soldier. He looked William up and down and, apparently deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, waved him past. William dismounted and walked his horse over to the pitiful excuse for a stable this town had. As he approached, he saw that there were three other horses already hitched up, one with no saddle bags. The saddle, however, matched the bags that the poor son of a bitch walking back to Sweetwater had been carrying. William hitched his own horse and went to look in the saddle bags of one of the other two horses.

"Hey!" someone called. William turned to see a man he recognized as the stable keeper. "You can't just-"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," William inturrupted as he pulled his pistol. With the barrel trained on the annoying stable keeper, he lifted the flap of the saddle bag and immediately saw the three corked bottles with amber liquid in them. He put his gun away, certain the stable keeper wasn't going to do anything. He lifted a bottle and pulled the cork. A sniff and a sip later, he was sure. Only a few people in the world would have the money to have whiskey this good, let alone several bottles of it. His prey was here. He recorked the bottle and put it back in the bag.

William walked back toward the gate. Pariah was a small town. He'd find them soon enough.


Tempe and Dolores stood with Slim and El Lazo outside of a cargo train.

"This is your ride," El Lazo said, "There's no official station where you're going. The engineer will slow the train to a crawl when you get to your destination, but he will not stop. You'll have to jump off there."

"How will we know when we get there?" Tempe asked

"The heads on pikes will be a dead giveaway," Slim deadpanned. Tempe's eyes widened, but he didn't smile. El Lazo's lips tightened in a grim expression.

"Well," Tempe said, "I guess we'd better get a move on. Thank you for all your help." She reached out, and El Lazo shook her hand firmly.

"I hope our paths cross again, though I doubt they will," he said.

"Maybe in another loop," Tempe answered, feeling clever.

A shrill call from the train's steam whistle let them know it was time to board. Tempe climbed the steps and turned to help Dolores up. El Lazo and Slim gave one last wave before walking back into the station. The train lurched forward and began it's slow acceleration.


"Hello, El Lazo," William said as he walked up to the table where El Lazo usually sat. The hispanic man, walking up to the table himself, looked at William, confused and irritated.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"That hurts," William answered, no trace of sincerity in his voice, "We're old friends."

El Lazo shook his head, "I do not know you, and I do not care to know you." With that, he motioned to his guards. The two toughs on either side of him unfolded their arms, but that was as far as they got before William drew and shot them. His gun whipped around to point at Slim, whose hand was inches from his own gun.

"If your hand touches iron," William said, "I will paint that wall behind you red."

Slim stared him down for a few tense seconds before suddenly closing the remaining inches between his hand and gun. William's gun barrel lit up and the back of Slim's head exploded in a shower of blood and gore.

William casually turned back to El Lazo who, for his part, was glaring at him with unrestrained hatred and fury. He leaned forward putting his hands on the table.

"You had better have one fuck of a good reason for being here," he growled, "Everyone heard those shots. The rest of my men will be here any second."

With two quick, fluid movements, William drew his knife and drove it into El Lazo's left hand. The blade went through his flesh and buried itself into the wooden table top. El Lazo cried out in pain. His knees seemed to want to buckle, but he remained on his feet. William pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the middle knuckle of his prisoner's ring finger.

"One chance," he said, "Tell me where the girls are."

"WHAT GIRLS?!" El Lazo screamed. William pulled the trigger. Blood and bone exploded downward through the wood of the table. El Lazo's mouth stretched open in a soundless cry of pain. William lifted his gun to reveal a jagged hole where the knuckle had been, the upper digit completely severed. William deliberately pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the second knuckle of El Lazo's index finger.

"You got ten fingers. Well, nine now," William chuckled, "We can do this for a little while, but then I'll have to get creative. Now, two women came through here. One blond, likely wearing a blue dress. The other one was in a brown duster and grey hat. Where are they?"

El Lazo's words came out in gasps, "I...don't...know-" William pulled the trigger. Again, a bullet tore through flesh, bone, and wood. El Lazo's cry was not silent this time. William picked up the finger he had just severed and examined it casually before tossing it aside. He then pressed his gun against El Lazo's pinky.

"You're going to have a real hard time holding a shot of whiskey here in a minute," William said, "Tell me where those two are!"

"OKAY! OKAY!" El Lazo screamed, "I'LL TELL YOU, YOU SADISTIC FUCK!"

William put a thumb on the hammer of his gun. Pulling the trigger, he eased the hammer slowly back to the uncocked position.

"They just left!" El Lazo gasped, "They're on the train. They mean to get off in Ghost Nation territory."

"Thank you," William said as he put the barrel of his gun to El Lazo's temple.

"I told you!" he said through gritted teeth, "You said you'd let me go."

William smiled, "I said no such thing." Then he pulled the trigger. The opposite side of his prisoner's head exploded out away from the gun. William pulled on his knife, but it didn't budge. He pulled again, and still nothing. Shouts and footsteps around the corner made him realize he didn't actually need the knife all that much. He moved through alleyways that he had memorized years ago. In just a few minutes, he was outside the town, mounting his horse and following the train that carried his quarry.


Dolores stood at the window, watching the landscape pass by as the train moved along the tracks toward their destination. Tempe watched her from a chair in the surprisingly well appointed train car.

She looks troubled, Tempe thought, but about what? Maybe she's worried about going into Ghost Nation territory.

Tempe stood and walked to the window. She put a hand on Dolores' arm…

And Dolores flinched.

That brought Tempe up short. She tried again, but Dolores moved away before Tempe's hand could make contact.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked.

"Last night," Dolores answered without facing her, "That didn't feel right."

Tempe tilted her head. That didn't sound like a host.

"I thought you enjoyed yourself," Tempe said.

Dolores stared at her hands for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and looked Tempe in the eyes.

"I didn't enjoy the way you looked at me. Your eyes are one of my favorite things about you. They have such brightness and intelligence. And the way you look at me normally makes my heart flutter in my chest."

She smiled at the last words. She positively glowed while talking about Tempe's eyes. But the smile faded.

"Last night," she said, "Your eyes weren't bright or loving. There was something darker there. You didn't look at me like you always have before. You looked at me like a cougar stalking prey. It felt…" she paused, looking for the right word, "Slimey."

A surprising emotion flooded Tempe. Anger. It flared in her chest like a furnace. She could feel heat in her cheeks and her eyes narrowed. How dare she. How dare Dolores question how Tempe looked at her? Every other pathetic worm that came to this park, every disgusting man, joined a bandit gang just so they could have their way with Dolores. Just so they could rape her! And she had the audacity to question the little bit of fun, little bit of carnal pleasure that Tempe had offered her? Tempe loved her, took her on adventures, made life exciting for her. She was just a host. A host whose entire existence was meant for the entertainment of …

Dolores took a step back, her face showing naked fear.

Tempe's stomach dropped and the anger vanished instantly. She had scared Dolores. How could she be so stupid? What she had done with… no, to Dolores is something that she would never have done to any real life lover she had. In this place, Tempe had power. She held sway over the life of any host that she chose. But what good was that power if she used it selfishly? She'd be no better than the creeps that she had just mentally railed against.

Yes, Dolores was a host, but the entire purpose of her time here, the fortune that her dad paid Delos to allow Dolores to keep her memories, was for it to be as real as possible. Maybe all those memories in Dolores had made something real. Tempe had been noticing it, especially on this trip. Dolores hadn't been talking like a host in quite a while. And if that was the case, what Tempe had done was a violation, a breaching of the trust that Dolores had given her. And now, she had compounded that violation by being angry that Dolores had spoken up about it.

Tempe's thoughts were interrupted by the door at the end of the car opening. It couldn't be the engineer, it was at the wrong end of the car. The door swung inward to reveal the man in black.

"Hi Honey!" he said in a jovial tone, "I'm home."

Tempe grabbed Dolores by the arm and dove behind a half wall that bisected the train car.

She heard shots wizz past as she did. She pulled her own side arm and fired blindly over her cover. She could hear her assailant's rapid footsteps as he moved for cover. Tempe reoriented herself so that she could glance around the base of the wall. A vague form crouched behind a small table next to the chair she had occupied earlier.

Suddenly, light flushed off his gun and Tempe drew back her head. An instant later, the wood of the paneling her head had been next to exploded.

"You're Cain Michaels' daughter, right?" The man called, "Your name's Mesa or Tucson or Yuma."

Tempe raised up and took a wild shot at the table. Wood chips exploded from the tabletop, making the man roll sideways.

"IT'S TEMPE, YOU PRICK!" she shouted.

A hand grabbed at the back of her duster and yanked her down. The wood at the top of the half wall splintered out as bullets struck near where Tempe had been standing.

"We have to get out of here," Dolores whispered into her ear.

Tempe struggled for a second to pull another side arm from a holster in the small of her back. Once free, she handed it to Dolores.

"Take this," she whispered, "Aim above his head. Try to hit the ceiling directly above him."

Dolores hesitated, but nodded. Tempe shifted until she was near the bottom edge of the wall, where her assailant's bullets had first struck. She looked at Dolores, holding the gun in a surprisingly competent two handed grip, and mouthed as she counted down on her fingers.

"Three," Dolores nodded.

"Two," Dolores took aim.

"One," Dolores fired.

Tempe used her boot to slide into position. Exactly as she had hoped, the man, now standing, had his attention on a spot above and slightly in front of him. Tempe fired. The aiming was slightly awkward laying on her side, but her bullet struck home. The Man in Black crumpled, holding his crotch and moaning, the mystique of his bearing completely gone.

Dolores, already standing, pulled Tempe to her feet with surprising strength.

"Let's go," she said


William watched the two women through watery vision as they retreated from the car. He forced himself to ignore the pain, simultaneously fighting the urge to vomit, and got to his feet. He made his way to the door from which he had entered the car. Guessing that they had jumped from the train, he figured moving toward the back the better option.

Once between the cars, he felt a grim satisfaction at seeing his suspicions confirmed in the backs of the retreating woman. Looking to his right, he saw the fast approaching railing of a bridge. Without thinking, he kicked off into the open air. Even with tucking his legs and rolling, William landed hard. For the briefest of seconds, he thought of giving up. He hurt all over. His entire middle section thrummed with pain in time with his heartbeat.

Taking a deep breath, he did his best to put all of his aches and pains aside. He struggled to his feet. This wasn't a game. This was a real challenge. This was a contest worth winning.


Tempe and Dolores ran, following the cliff's edge. Tempe wasn't sure how much time her little trick had bought them, but she hoped it was enough. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her that it hadn't been.

Why won't he just leave us alone? She thought, What the hell is he getting out of this?

Tempe stopped running.

Dolores stopped as well and gave her a frantic, questioning look.

"I'm done," Tempe said, breathing heavily, "I'm ending this." She turned and faced the approaching man.

He had apparently seen them stop because his own pace had slowed and he walked with his gun aimed casually in their direction. Tempe used a hand to guide Dolores behind her.

"Are you going to draw?" he asked.

"No," Tempe said, "This ends now."

The man's eyebrows climbed to his forehead. "So you're giving up?"

"Giving up what?!" she screamed, throwing her hands in the air, "There's nothing to give up! It's not like we can hurt each other here. That's the whole point to this place."

"I don't know about that," he said, smiling wryly, "That shot to my boys hurt pretty good. And my nose is a different shape than when I got here."

Tempe rolled her eyes, "Fine, I'm sorry about your nose, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

The man laughed, "Absolutely not. That's the first time in years that I've felt something, really felt something in years. A real chance to lose!"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, "You can't lose in here. I can't lose here. Nobody can lose!"

The man smiled again. "Really, you can't lose?" he asked. Then the angle of his gun changed slightly and he fired.

At first, Tempe thought he had missed. Then she felt Dolores' hand grabbing weakly at her arm. Tempe turned as Dolores sank to the ground, a bright red stain blossoming on her stomach. He had apparently aimed just to the side of Tempe at the barely exposed midsection of Dolores. The blood left Tempe's face and followed her stomach to her feet. She frantically tried to find the wound to cover it with her hands.

"Oh no no no no no! Dolores, honey, Dolores, look at me."

Dolores looked at her, working her jaw, trying to force words out of her mouth.

"No, don't try to speak. It's going to be alright."

Dolores struggled for a few more seconds. She coughed once, blood coming out from between her lips. Then her head lolled to the side and she stopped moving.

Tempe pulled her shaking hands away from Dolores' body, staring at the blood on her palms. Shock, anguish, and rage all burned within her, seeming to steal her reason and senses. It all bubbled to her throat and burst from her mouth as a primal scream.


The emotion that hit William at witnessing Tempe's reaction surprised him. Satisfaction. He had won.

But then, she screamed. The power and emotion of that roar touched something primal in William's mind. For the first time, he considered that this might not have been such a good idea after all.

Tempe turned her gaze on him and, before he could react, launched herself at him. William wasn't a weak individual, and Tempe wasn't all that big, but her momentum surprised and overwhelmed him. They both went down. Tempe rained down blow after shockingly powerful blow on him. He frantically covered his face with his arms.

After a few seconds of struggle, he managed to put his knee against her waist, kicking her off of him. She rolled and scrambled back to her feet. But, she wasn't watching her footing and stepped awkwardly on a baseball sized rock. Her ankle twisted in an unnatural direction, and she pitched forward her head cracking against another, slightly larger rock. The angle of her fall caused her to begin rolling toward the cliff.

"No!" William yelled as he watched Tempe slide down the slope toward the cliff. He dove for her hand, but landed just a few precious inches short. Tempe continued to slide, gradually picking up speed. William scrambled to reach her. He felt his fingers brush the back of her hand just before she slipped off the sheer edge of the cliff.

William let out a wordless cry of anguish and fear. He had seen over the edge. He knew there was no surviving that fall.