Approaching with cautious steps, my mask concealing my face, I gripped the katana in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Despite my proximity, they remained oblivious to my presence, their attention fixated elsewhere. Four figures stood before me, their identities shrouded in uncertainty, save for one—the cowboy, his heterochromatic gaze betraying his status as a contract holder. Etched upon his neck, the mark of the Emperor, unmistakable in its significance. Admiring his demeanor, I couldn't help but note the meticulousness of his attire, an air of confidence exuding from his every move.
In attire befitting the open range, Lucky Blaze sported a white cowboy hat, its brim casting a shadow against the sun-soaked plains. A crimson twilly scarf adorned his neck, a vibrant splash against the backdrop of dusty trails. His form was defined by a snug crop top, revealing the sculpted contours of his physique beneath. At his waist, a belt boasting a golden buckle emblazoned with his name gleamed in the sunlight.
His lower half clad in flared jeans bearing the distinctive print of a cow's hide, while his feet found purchase in sturdy cowboy boots, their light brown hue echoing the earth beneath. Standing tall and lean, Lucky Blaze cut an imposing figure, his stature reaching near the zenith of human height. His countenance, marked by platinum blond locks cascading in unruly waves, framed a face dotted with the endearing scatter of freckles.
With eyes as diverse as the wide expanse of the sky, one gleamed with the icy brilliance of a winter's frost, while the other held a darker, more enigmatic hue, a gunmetal blue. Together, they mirrored the duality inherent in the man himself, hinting at depths yet unexplored beneath his rugged exterior.
After the dust settled and the echoes of gunfire faded, only the corpses bore witness to the chaos that had unfolded. With the guards and bystanders lying lifeless, the opportunity to seize the spoils presented itself, ripe for the taking. Amidst the deafening silence, Lucky Blaze fixed his gaze on the intruder, which is me and uttered," Howdy mister, do you want to crawl my hump?" (Crawling my hump means 'pick a fight' in cowboy slang)
"I'm Fear," I declared, my voice calm yet commanding. "And I'm here to extend an invitation. We're cut from the same cloth, you and I, both contract holders seeking answers. Join me in the Church of Truth, where we pursue the mysteries that bind us. Ever wondered about the origin of your powers? Together, we'll uncover the truth. And feel free to bring your friends along—they'll find a home among us, scholars in search of insight."
He let out a hearty chuckle, his voice echoing through the dimly lit room. "Well, hot damn, Mr. Fear, I'll be damned if I ain't lost at sea with your jibber-jabber. Just 'cause you hold some fancy contract don't mean I'm fixin' to jump on your bandwagon. You gotta be full as a stick or balderdash to come in here and try to sell five outlaw boys on your hogwash. I'm Lucky Blaze, and mark my words, this here's the last time you'll be hearing that name, baby."
( At Sea = being confused. Full as a stick = drunk. Balderdash=foolish)
My grin faded as I leaned in, my voice low and steady." Lucky Blaze, have you ever considered why humans wish to live? Humans live hoping to conquer their anxieties and fear and attain peace of mind. Seeking fame, controlling others, and acquiring wealth are all done to achieve peace of mind. Marriage and friendship are also pursued as means of attaining peace of mind. When humans say they wish to help others, or that a thing is done for love or justice...it's all merely to give themselves peace of mind.
Achieving peace of mind is the goal of all mankind. Now, given that, what anxiety could you possibly feel toward joining me? Peace of mind would come easily if you do. Doesn't challenging me, even knowing that it may spell your death, bring you anxiety? It would be a waste to kill you. I can promise you peace of mind for eternity. And if you don't seek peace of mind and seek adventure, thrill, and knowledge as I do, I can offer you that. If you join me you will be permanently riding a rollercoaster of adrenaline and endorphins.
But if you disagree to join me, I will sadly have to eliminate you, and your partners. That is because I cannot let rogue contract holders ruin my plan."
Lucky Blaze drawled out, "Well ain't this a hog-killin' time, boys? That a quirley you're puffin' on, partner? After I put a hole in your noggin', I reckon I'll give you a Jessy and stash that quirley where the sun don't shine. Now, let's see who's the quickest draw in the west, yeehaw!"
( Hog-Killin' time = fun time. Quirley = hand-rolled cigarette. Give a jessy= spank someone)
As Lucky made his move to blast me, that bullet sauntered toward my skull like molasses in winter. His hand was quick, but the bullet? Not so much. With a flick of my katana, I deflected the shot and cleaved through the other four fellas, sending their heads flying in one swift motion. All old Lucky saw was the glow from my cigarette swirling through their bodies as they were getting beheaded.
"My ability is called Kill Bill," I said, my tone grave and unyielding. "It allows me to dash through enemies swiftly, leaving behind a trail of slicing and dicing. Your friends, they're no more, but I spared you for a reason. Consider this your final invitation to join me."
He stood there, a mix of shock and amusement flickering across his features. "Well, well, well," he chuckled, his smile belying the danger lurking beneath. "You sure are ginnin' about! You should have killed me first! Now I know how your ability works and how to counter it. You sure are in a bad box now baby! You are a desert canary for being so stupid. All I can tell ya is that my ability is named DJANGO UNCHAINED!"
( ginning' about = moving quickly. Bad box = bad situation. Desert canary = donkey.)
He turned on me, his weapon spitting fire, but I sidestepped his shots, their trajectory like sluggish serpents in the desert sand. Lucky, he had a knack for patterns, aiming for my vital points, but I danced with his bullets, like a professional, closing the distance with each dodge. Finally, I closed the gap, ready to end this dance and announce the end of the act.
But as my blade swung true, I saw his smirk, and then pain exploded in my legs. Like thunder on a clear day, I fell, my limbs betraying me, 2 shots that incapacitated my right then left leg in sequence. Paralyzed, I lay helpless, a puppet with severed strings, at the mercy of fate's cruel hand.
As I lifted my gaze to meet Lucky's, I found his finger gun pointed squarely at me. His laughter echoed through the empty streets, a sinister symphony to accompany his words.
"Yeehaw, you're nothing but a lump of prairie coal now!" he jeered, his voice dripping with mockery. "I am above snakes, while you're down in the dirt. What an ace high performance, huh? I've made my jack, and I am simon pure you're taking the dirt nap today! Adios, mister Fear."
(Prairie coal= fences. Ace high = high class. Made my jack= hit my target. Simon-pure = pretty sure. Above snakes= alive or on the ground standing.)
With a cruel smirk, he blew me a mocking kiss before pulling the trigger, sending a bullet hurtling towards my skull...
