The clock tower chimes rung out over the town as the barmaid was on her latest rounds across the bar to check on every patron. "What a strange time we live in.." She muttered softly to herself, passing by men with mechanized, steam driven arms or legs built out of metal and wires. A good many played cards, rolled dice into a bowl, or just nursed a strong drink. Tucking the serving tray beneath her arm as the barmaid sighed softly heading back towards the serving counter she noticed a lone man sitting by the bar on a stool.

Relatively normal in terms of all things considered around her, his curiously cut hair combined with the tightly wrapped poncho around his body lent the man an air of mystery. No prosthetic was noticeable upon the man, a point worth noting already, but more than that he sat alone. Typically an action taken with a level of caution as safety truly was in numbers these days.

"Top your drink off for ya sir?" The freckled lass gave him a smile, leaning forward just a bit to tease the top of her cleavage.

Tossing down the last mouthful in the shot glass as he sighed softly after, his answer came in holding up the emptied object and nodding his head. "Fill 'er up." His tone was deep but soft, as if almost a whisper she was only to hear as he motioned to the bottle of whiskey a short distance away.

As she fulfilled the order, with a soft hum and spring in her step a scream broke through the air. Everyone stopped immediately in that moment, glancing around concerned as a woman ran by the window at the front of the saloon. Coarse laughter followed after her as the voices grew louder.

Three rough looking men pushed open the doors of the saloon; sand dusted clothes, sun burned skin, and guns all worn on their hips. All eyes were on them as the trio walked in like they owned the place, more than a few eyes averted once the red cloth tied around their arms was noticed... The Dustbowl Boys Gang.

"Ey, that him?" The one flanking on the left smacked his partners arm, motioning to the lone stranger at the bar.

His partner brushed a finger through his bushy mustache and narrowed his eyes. "I reckon we go find out..." The comment bringing a soft malicious laugh from the other two. "Hey you, at the bar! What's your name?"

The stranger remained silent, sipping his drink as he seemingly ignored the group.

"You deaf? I asked you a question!" With a roar in his voice, the thug stomped across the floor and slapped the drink clean out of the man's hand.

A soft gasp arose somewhere in the room, the tense feeling in the air increasing sharply. Slowly, the stranger turned his head to glance at the thug from the corner of his eye. "3 shots... no wait, 2..."

The man laughed cruelly. "What's that about shots boy? You drunk or something?" He leaned onto the counter to get a better look at the man's face.

"No... that's how many bullet I'll use to kill you all..." His voice again, quiet like a whisper.

"What did you-?!" Before the man could finish his words, the stranger reached out suddenly. Grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down, the bandit's face smacked clean into the counter top with a sickening crunch as blood streamed from his now irregularly bent nose. Rebounding back from the force of the blow, the limp body fell backwards towards the floor. Rising to his feet in the same moment, the motion pulling his poncho aside as his other hand leveled upon the remaining two men; revolver already in poised as he fired off two hip shots. Both bullets catching the bandits clean in the chest.

As the momentum from the sudden moment finally settled, poncho whirling back around his chest, the first man's body collided with the floor; his partners following moments after. More than a few onlookers rubbed their eyes, unsure of what they had just seen and certain the action would have been missed during the span of the blink of an eye.

The gunfire drew more attention however as a voice outside broke the stunned silence. "Mash? Ortega! What the hell's going on?!" Heavy footfalls sounded as a burly man, barrel chested in build and wielding a massive hip mounted, backpack attached gun burst open the swinging doors. Biting down on a half smoked cigar his eyes widened as he noticed the trio of men laying dead. The crowd already crying out in fear as they flipped tables and dove out of windows for cover as that huge gun raised towards the stranger.

"You! Enek the Hunter! Dieeee!" The large man shouted, his backpack making an increasingly louder whirling sound as it vented smoke and the barrels of the weapon spun up.

Vaulting the bar counter as the first few bullet let lose, filling the air with a deafening noise as the wooden surfaces were chewed apart by the heavy gun fire. Drilling holes across the counter top and the bar behind it, Enek lay hunkered behind the thick surface as he noticed the barmaid from before laying shivering on the floor with her serving tray covered over her head.

"Miss, hey Miss!" He called over the roar of the weapon, finally grabbing her attention as she looked up at him fearfully. "I'll take another drink please." He said, much to her disbelief; watching as the man casually reloaded his revolver.

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Enek belongs to me

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