Chrissy, if your still lurking out there, this ones for you!
The bar doors flew open, and a rather large figure stood in the doorway. The patrons of the bar looked on at this spectacle of a man for a moment before returning to their drinks and gambling. After all, it was just another stranger trying to make an entrance, just like all the others. A scrawny fellow at the bar knew otherwise. This was no ordinary large figure standing in a bar doorway, this one had come for him.
"Bucho!" shouted the large fellow, causing the patrons to turn their attention to the large figure once more. "You cannot hide forever, Bucho.” he continued with his gaze focusing on the scrawny fellow at the bar. Bucho picked up his murky glass and drank the last of his hooch. The trembling of his hand, causing the glass to shutter and spill most of it down his stubbled chin. "Why do you insist on making me ramble through these hell holes Bucho?" the figure spoke again. "You know I don't like to get my boots dirty. The large figure looked down at his mudded boots. The flakes of dry mud lay cracked on the floor where he stood. "No worry, I'll have plenty of money to buy some new ones after I collect the reward on your dead carcass." said the figure with a half grin and raising his eyebrow somewhat.
Bucho slowly turned around on his chair, his eyes riddled with blood veins, showing the countless nights of unrest that he had endured. "You know Grax," spoke Bucho with a slight panic in his voice, "I don't think I will ever understand your kind. You make your fortune off the misfortune of others and I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't do anything to put an end to that." Bucho continued, his voice becoming less strained. As the words exited his dry, cracked lips, a small smile formed across his face. Grax stood and stared at the scrawny fellow for a moment before muttering in a sarcastic tone, "Oh, I'm a little concerned now Bucho, I'm fearing for my life now, please don't hurt me Bucho."
Bucho reached into a small pack resting on the floor and took out a large quantity of dynamite sticks bundled together with a small detonation device and timer. He placed it on the bar and returned his attention to Grax. Grax's grin had all but disappeared. Now, a look of concern had etched itself across his long face. The bar patrons who had been so contently looking on at the show before them saw the bomb and made a hurried and chaotic exit through the door and several leapt out the windows. A drunken fellow in a large hooded robe lay hunched over on the bar, oblivious to the obvious danger before him. Grax looked at Bucho and started to laugh. "Ha ha ha, come now Bucho, you don't expect me to believe that your going to kill both of us do you? Your nothing but a coward who steals from the good people of this world!"
"Good people!? Mr. Dubya is nothing more than a drug dealer in a suit!" exclaimed Bucho with disgust. "He's a scoundrel and you know it!" he continued.
"Nevertheless, he is a respectable businessman and a large contributor of the welfare and maintenance of the city of Gold Hills." spoke Grax, the tension in his voice still evident. "Now why don't you just give me that bomb and I'll let you go in a more, humane, way?” he continued, pausing briefly.
Grax raised his gun. A large one at that, a Smith and Eastern Long Sited Rifle. The obvious choice for a bounty hunter. "If you give me the bomb you'll die quickly, I promise. But if you don't, well I can't be held responsible for the tremendous pain you will feel in the coming months before your ultimate end." he continued.
Bucho stood and grabbed the bomb, standing shakily and with a great deal of pressure, he stood there and stared back at Grax. "Don't make me do this Grax!" he shouted, the fear rippling through his voice like a rock through a shallow pond.
"I'll give you to the count of ten before I start making this real painful." said Grax.
"1...2...3...4..." he started. The drunken fellow slumped over the bar started up and woozed back and forth as he stuttered to his feet, but fell solidly to the floor which made both Grax and Bucho grimace as they imagined what that must have felt like.
"Err, 5...6..." continued Grax uneasily as the he watched the drunken fop try to get up once more. His attention once again focusing on Bucho, his aim placed on Bucho's right shoulder. "...7...8..." Grax's face suddenly went blank. A sick white colour filled his face and his eyes closed tightly causing the rest of his face to scrunch up. Grax lowered his head and looked at his leg. His knee had been shattered and was in a bad way, no doubt causing tremendous pain. He looked over at the drunken fop who had outstretched arms and was holding a .233 Pistol. A smoked haze whistled from the barrel followed by a large flash, again and again as four more shots ploughed into Grax, striking the upper torso and one unfortunate shot landing in his groin. Grax toppled over and hit the floor and remained there. Motionless, the stained red blood flooding the hardwood floor. Islands of caked mud floating in the steady stream.
Bucho's eyes reflected back the shock and confusion that had now grasped him. In what could have only been a few seconds, his untimely end had now been set for another day. Somewhat dazed, Bucho looked over at the robed figure who was now standing tall and steadily. The robed figure spun his gun around in what could only be described as a typical western style before holstering it at his side. He walked over to the bar and reached behind it, fumbling for a few seconds before bringing out a small but sturdy backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he approached Bucho who had up until this moment, not yet come to terms with Grax's sudden passing. Bucho quickly snapped out of it as he was face to face with the figure, who had now lowered his hood. "Um, thank you, um sir, for... saving me." stuttered Bucho with uncertainty. "Your not going to kill me are you?" he asked questioningly.
A slight smile stretched over the robed figures face as he chuckled to himself. "No I'm not going to kill you Bucho." he spoke. "That is your name right?" he continued.
"Yes, that's my name alright." Spoke Bucho.
"So we meet at last then." Spoke the robed figure.
"You have me at a loss, for you know my name, but I know not yours." spoke Bucho. "You do have a name don't you?" he continued.
The robed figure smiled again, "Yes, Bucho, I have a name. They Call me, Big Bad Bob.” He continued, as his face became more serious.
"Big Bad Bob? Why does that sound familiar? Asked Bucho questioningly, wracking his brain for an answer...