Finally the train reached Mesa Verde. When Juan awoke, he recognised the station. With a big eager grin on his face, he, along with his family, stepped off the train and bounded happily across the tracks towards the exit. Oh, they could not wait to rob that bank!

The inside of the station was beautiful. The skirting was decorated with lovely blue and green mosaics, and the doorway they walked through was wood, and ornately carved. Oh, Mesa Verde must be heaven if even the station was this gorgeous. There were wealthy people chatting inside, as well as a few soldiers. Talking, laughing... probably Federales ready to take down people like Juan when they had the chance. Continuing to admire the scenery, a poster caught Juan's eye. It said, "El Sr. Gobernador Ama Al Pueblo: El Pueblo Ama Al Sr. Gobernador" ("Mr. Governor Loves The People: The People Love The Governor"). Eh. Juan didn't care what it meant. Whoever the governor was, he wasn't his problem. He was happy to be in Mesa Verde for the first time in years. He stepped outside and, Dios mio, weren't the buildings magnificent.

"Beautiful, ah?" was all Juan could say.

Just then, before he could react, a man ran up and collapsed into Juan's arms, a shot ringing out.

And for the first time since he got there, Juan looked straight ahead.

... What the fuck?

Soldiers swarmed the streets like ants, in small, tight groups, chanting Uno, dos, uno, dos, uno, dos...

Juan had never heard of "National socialists", which wouldn't usurp Germany for another twenty years or so, but if he did, this is exactly what they looked like.

Three Mesa Verde citizens stood against the wall, a line of soldiers standing opposite them. Those men didn't look like criminals. They didn't have guns, or holsters, or anything. What, then, could they have done to deserve standing in a firing line? He saw that one guy did go up and spit on a poster, just like the one he saw in the station. Spitting on a poster didn't seem like grounds for execution.

Fleeing into a building, Juan and Napoleon peeked out from between several boards, tearing apart a Gobernador poster in the process. Amusingly, Juan tore it at the eyes so that his seemed to align with the Governor's face. He saw the men gunned down by the soldiers.

"Hey, God", said Juan, seemingly to no one, "You sure this is Mesa Verde?"

God wasn't the chatty type but there was no way he could prove it wasn't.

Finally reaching the bank, Juan ushered his boys across the square, lagging behind to take one longing look at the place. He stopped by a cafe across from the bank, and, shoving Napoleon aside, peeked in through the window.

There was someone sitting in the cafe, hidden by a potted plant. Juan went inside to get a better look.

It was John.

Juan walked over to him. John recognised the bandit's gait so he didn't even turn around to look.

"You have your beans with chili or not?", said John.

"I don't want nothing from you", growled Juan.

"Ah, come on, have some beans", started John, jovially.

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch!" interrupted Juan in an angry whisper. "You pull that trick on me one more time, I break your goddamn head!"

"Well, for chrissake", retorted John, "A train comes along and I take it. Been waiting for you in Mesa Verde ever since."

"Not my Mesa Verde! This place has changed! This shit is covered with soldiers like the flies!" babbled Juan, sitting abruptly opposite John.

"Hey, hey", said John calmly, "Just the way we like it."

Juan couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand it. What, this place?

"What do you mean, it's just the way we like it?"

"If it's a revolution", said John carefully, "it's confusion."

John was reminded of the night he saw Sean handing out newspapers in the pub, stirring up what he thought would be a moment of historic heroism, but what would inevitably lead to chaos.

"What are you talking about, revolution confusion?", said Juan, a little confused himself.

"Where there's confusion, a man who knows what he wants stands a good chance of getting it", replied John, seeking understanding in Juan's eyes.

"I don't understand you", said Juan. That went without saying.

A man walked up to them.

"This him?", he inquired.

Juan automatically stood up from his chair.

"That's him", answered John, as he stood up to leave. Juan grabbed his shoulder as John started after the stranger.

"Him who?", said Juan. He couldn't help but feel that he was the "him" that John and the stranger were referring to, but he wanted to make sure.

"You trust me?"

"No."

"You want to get inside over there?"

"Si."

"Well, I'm going to see to it that you have that chance," said John. "Come on."

And without a word, Juan followed John and the other man into the back of the cafe.