064: draw

Worn-out leather boots kicked-up the dust with every step. In the distance, a few rough-looking figures readied themselves, hands ready to spring for their holsters at the slightest movement of the stranger ahead of them.

Even if his face hadn't been covered by a worn and dusty bandanna, any onlookers knew that the stranger wasn't about to flinch, his hard eyes narrowed at the men fixing to kill. Like a statue of a man twice his size, the gunslinger just stared, motionless.

If anyone blinked, they would've missed it.

"Amateurs," the gunslinger scoffed, as he walked away...