Six Shooter
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The figure quickly walked through the night time city, clutching the revolver in his coat pocket, like a western, a black trench coat, dark jeans and grey t-shirt replaced the stetson, chaps and shirt, his six shooter by his side.
Like an old western blood would be spilt, a score to be settled, vengeance, vendetta, shoot out.
The figure reached its destination, an old bar, what a coincidence. He sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey, freshly poured, downing it he turned to see the figure.
The figure pulled out his magnum and fired two shots killing the man outright, before turning on his heel and leaving, coat flared up like the wings of night.
Justice had been done, he returned to the guild, the army of the night had won its first victory against crime, what could the police do, he was doing there job!
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