The waiting.

That's always the hardest part. I find it kind of funny because waiting is what I do best. I'm even better at it than my teacher was. It took years of training, literally my entire life from when I left the saloon to now in order to get like this. But now I can wait for days, weeks even depending on the conditions. My body shuts down. I don't feel anything.

Not hunger.

Not thirst.

Not pain.

And waiting is what I've been doing since I finished digging up teacher. Despite all the things my body can take, walking miles across the desert is still a dangerous task. So now I must bide my time and wait until someone happens across my path.

Teacher had a little hovel miles out in the desert. That's where he took me.

"So where do we start teacher? Are you going to teach me how to shoot a gun? How to drop a guy lightning quick like you did my piece of shit boss?"

"In time boy."

"Well then what the hell am going to do?"

"You're going to learn how use your eyes and your ears. You're going to learn how to judge the wind, the feel of the desert."

"Who cares about the desert. I want to learn how to use a gun."

That's the first time he ever hit me. He backhanded me so hard across the face that he broke my jaw. Knocked three teeth out too.

"Listen close boy. You have to respect the desert. He's like a living, breathing person. The desert can show you things, talk to you. It can break you down in to nothing, or if you follow my instructions, make you more than yourself. It can lend you all of the terrible power it has. You just have to listen to what it's saying."

That was the last time teacher ever had to hit me.

We only spent a day or two out in the desert the first time. Just long enough for me to learn about the plants and the animals. The sun and the sky. The moon and the stars. In two days time, he had taught me everything he knew about the nature of Gunsmoke. Of course it would take me years to be able to hone all that knowledge in order for me to harness it like I do today. But those first two days were the most important in all my years of training.



When we got back I was starving. The only thing he had given me while we were in the desert was water. But maybe that was teacher's plan when he hit me.

"Well boy…seeing that your jaw is broken I think now is the best time to start what will be the most difficult thing you have to learn. I'm not going to give you any food for a week. You'll have to learn to get by on water. Don't drink too much though…eventually I'm going to take that away too."

I had some awful weeks when I was living at the saloon. Weeks where I would be beaten all day, every day. Beaten so badly I couldn't perform my duties. And if I didn't perform, I didn't get fed. But all of those weeks combined paled in comparison to that one.

It felt like my stomach was turning itself inside out. It was the most terrible thing I ever had to go through. Then when the week was up he took the water away. Then it got even worse.

I would lay there at night, doubled over in pain, howling in agony and begging teacher for food. Now many may not believe me when I say this, but every night, every single night, teacher would sit on the floor by me. He would lay my head in his lap and hold my hand.

"Fight through it. It's all in your head. You're going to be ok."

Make no mistake, he was a cold blooded killer. He had no qualms with killing men, women, or children. But he was still a good man. At least as good as can be expected. He was more of a parent to me than my addict mother ever was.

And just like that it was over. I fought through all of the pain and anguish and I just went numb. I don't know how I did it. I don't even think teacher knows how. It's just something a select few people are able to do. The Gung Ho Guns were able to do it, and I'm sure Vash the Stampede could to.

But no one can wait like I can.

I see dust clouds on the horizon. Someone is coming.

I can't share with you all of the rigorous hours teacher and I spent practicing with the rifle and the pistol. Mind you it isn't because those hours were pointless or boring. It's because teacher made me swear to never tell another living soul, excluding the boy or girl I one day decide to train.

He taught me how do draw my weapon faster than it takes a human being to blink. How to shoot the wings of a fly from miles away. Ten is the furthest I can be away and still get the wings, but I still get the fly from twenty. Then he taught me something he said would allow me to win any gunfight.

"This is something that only you are going to be able to do. Something not even the best gunfighters in the world will be able to overcome."

It took me five whole years to perfect it. That's one of the few spaces of time I actually remember because it was so difficult for me to learn. Five…long…years. But at the end I could do it.

I could fire bullets around objects.



It all had to do with muscle control. Muscle control on an insanely minute degree. The motion of the arm combined with the firing of certain nerves in the finger tips, on top of perfect timing. It is the deadliest skill in my repertoire.

Finally he said I was ready to be put to the test.

"You go now. Go out into the desert and wait. I don't care how long you have to be out there. You go and you kill the first person unlucky enough to come into your sights."

With that he got into his jeep and started it up.

"Wait. Teacher! Teacher…where are you going? How will you know if I do it or not?"

"Trust me boy. I'll know."

We stared at each other, right in the eyes, for a good thirty seconds. It was the longest me and him had ever looked directly at each other. I knew that this was his way of saying goodbye. He drove off after that. I never saw him again.

The dust clouds are getting closer.

So I went out into the desert and I waited. I don't know how long. Like I said, hours, days, months…they all mash together here on Gunsmoke. Especially in my line of work. But regardless of how long I waited, eventually someone came.

It was a big truck, and it was packed full of people. It looked like one big, disgustingly happy family. A family that I used to dream of having when I was a little boy. I was going to enjoy it. I was going to revel in it. I was going to make it the single best moment of my life, splattering that family's brains all over the sand.

I checked my rifle, drew in a breath, and tightened my body up. Shoot the driver first, cause the truck to crash, then pick them all off one by one. I wasn't even that far away from them. It was going to be so easy.

But as I moved my sights along the truck to the cab I saw something that shook me down to my very core. There staring out of the passenger side window was a teenage girl. A girl with the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. To this day I've never seen a pair so blue. But what shook me wasn't the color of her eyes.

It's what they were staring at.

This girl was looking right at me. I blinked once, then again. Shook my head to see if I was imagining it. But no matter what I did she just kept staring. Then even worse than her staring, she stuck her hand at the window and waved.



I suppose it was surprise more than anything. Shock that despite all of my training, despite all I knew, something like that had actually happened. I kept watching that girl, and kept staring in her direction even after the truck had disappeared over the horizon.

Needless to say, the next person who crossed my path wasn't so lucky. I had fun with that one. She was a woman, an old woman. I flipped her truck with a bullet through the front axle then took off both her arms with rounds to her shoulders before putting the kill shot between her eyes.

I know teacher always said not to play with your targets. It's supposed to be one shot, one kill. But I had to let off a little steam. After I was done I started walking. Eventually I got a ride with a group of migrant farm workers who took me to a small town. From there I started doing mercenary work. Bounty hunting, contract murder, bank robberies.

That how it went for awhile until a man came to my door. He was a bum from the looks of him. He came and delivered me a letter, then promptly stuck a gun in his mouth and blew his brains out.

The letter told me that, as per my teacher's agreement, I was to be notified of his death and provided with all of the information surrounding his demise including where he was last sent on assignment. The letter was signed L.B.

And that is where I find myself now. The dust clouds are here. I step in front of the jeep and motion the driver to stop.

"Hey there buddy! What the hell are you doing!"

"I need your vehicle."

"Sorry buddy, I don't take hitchhikers. This planet is dangerous enough without picking up sketchy fellas like yourself up in the middle of the desert."

"I need your vehicle. This is your last chance."

"Now listen you asshole, I already told…"

I throw his lifeless body out on to the ground. The desert will take him now.

I warned him.

Now I'm driving. I have to go to July.

I have to go to Vash the Stampede.