The sand filled his mouth. The hot mid-day sun burned him everywhere. Thirst and hunger just didn't matter anymore though. He could only delay the inevitable. The men surrounding him kept a close watch from horse back. Sipping from their canteens, they grin menacingly. One, sitting atop the lone black horse of the group, slowly produces a golden pocket watch. A set of cold brown eyes focus on the lid as it clicked open. They scan the watch and read the time, before a gloved hand snaps it back shut and tucks it into the vest the man is wearing.

The sound of the shovel hitting sand and scooping it out was becoming monotonous. Everyone and everything else was silent other than the horses, who breathed heavily, starting to overheat in the sun themselves. The six riders on horse back kept a watchful eye, as the silence has slowly dissipated thanks, in part, to the three buzzards circling high overhead. The horses react in kind, rearing a bit and huffing loudly. The apparent leader of the group sighs and pats his horse on the neck, hopping down to the sand below. He hands the reigns to his follower, slowly walking towards the single man digging the hole in the sand. Dripping sweat, burned from the sun, at the end of the line, the man matches looks with the leader.

"Know why 'yer here?" he seemed to whisper. The man in the hole could barely think, let alone focus on what was happening around him. It was clear what was happening. He knew from the second they bound him and dragged him to this spot. "I got an idea." The leader seemed to snap, leaping into the hole in an instant. He ripped the shovel from the hands of the digger and smashed the length of the handle against his face. A single scream rang out, startling the horses. The man dropped down to a seated position along the edge of the hole, holding his face in pain. The leader watched as blood trickled through his fingers and over the tops of his hands down onto his pants and the sand below.

"I didn't ask if you had an idea, boy! DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU'RE IN THIS HOLE?!" he shouted, dropping to a kneel in front of the digger, and shoving the handle against his throat. The man desperately tried to answer, his hands fighting back the handle to draw air and speak. His face now uncovered the leader could see his nose unbroken, but bloodied, but several of his front teeth had been knocked out. The blood flowed freely, as the man continued his struggle, the leader letting off the pressure enough to get his answer, and more sadistically, continue to torture him.

"Ok! Ok!"

For a moment, he didn't comply. He had almost no care to hear an answer. "C'mon, Vance..."

That was all it took. The leader, apparently named Vance, stood, releasing the shovel. IT drops soft into the lap of the digger, and Vance spins, drawing a gleaming silver revolver in a single motion almost invisible to the naked eye. The man who spoke out was in the sand just as fast, blood spatter decorating the area around his horse, which promptly took off. Another horse rider reared back and abandoned his post, quickly taking off towards the wavy image of the town in the distance, just rising above the horizon. He, too, quickly fell to the sand a bloody mess; the horse sprinting off into the wild. Vance spun, looking to the other four men, two of whom were on the sand on either side of the hole, hands on the grip of their pistols.

"Vance!" he pleaded. ""Damn! Why'd you go off and kill our own?!", snapped the other. Vance stood tall, rising from the small hole in the ground. He approached one of the men slowly, his pistol low, but still cocked and finger at the ready. "This man in the hole stole from you boys! FROM US! And here you are, asking me to show compassion?! This rodent owes the Vance Boys some protection money but he ain't got it?! Am I supposed to let that go, Jesse?" Vance stepped towards the same man he addressed as Jesse, who was now moving his hand away from his weapon and raising both hands to plead for distance...

"Ok, boss - just - don't do anything stupi-" The crack of the pistol echoed again, far and wide. The two horses without riders also took off now. Jesse was face down in the sand, clutching his chest, eyes wide with complete shock. Crimson stained the sand as his back finally stopped rising and falling in shock. Vance was already looking over his shoulder at his lieutenant, Jakob, who seemed to be without his horse. "What do you need to say, son?" Vance slowly turned. He paced towards a silent Jakob, a man quite literally shaking in his boots. "Aw c'mon, Vance! I don't care what happens to that guy!"

Again, the crack of the pistol echoed into the distance. "VANCE! AW! NO!" The man lay in the sand, clutching his knee in terror and agony. He began backing up, crying as he screamed for mercy. "REIGNS! SPENCER! PLEASE!" "THIS MAN-", screamed Vance, as he hovered over Jakob, "-IS YOUR LIFE LINE! IF HE DOESN'T PAY US... WE DON'T EAT! WE DON'T DRINK! You CARE because you WANT HIM ALIVE! DEAD DOESN'T HELP! We're dying out here the last few weeks and you mean to question me WHY WE MIGHT NEED TO DO OUR DAMNED JOB?!" Vance lost all control now, pulling up the revolver and releasing the remaining rounds in the chamber and continuing to dry fire for several seconds after, screaming bloody murder as he did so.

Jakob lay sprawled in all directions, blood and flesh strewn about, plasma leaking from the few gunshot wounds he had. His body twitched in shock as his heart slowly pumped blood out of his body... slowly coming to a stop... the crimson flowed out and seeped down into the sand creating strange patterns. The wind was already sweeping sand over much of what was happening. Vance stared down, his hand still resting on the hammer of his pistol. He breathed heavily, his eyes practically exploding from his eye sockets. Neither of his remaining men moved an inch, or seemed phased in the least by the incident. The three of them looked to be the same age, though. Perhaps they had been riding for years.

CLANG!!!!

It didn't matter as one of the remaining mens horses screamed out, collapsing to the sand on its face, throwing the rider head first to the sand violently. The man in the hole threw the shovel away now, reaching up and snatching the rifle from the side of the fallen horse. His eyes snapped to the other horse, the bigger target. His finger locked around the trigger. His eyes narrowed. His heart beat just a single time. CRACK.

The rider had drawn, but the horse was hit and reared back, flipping straight over onto its back. The nearly murdered rifleman didn't even need to follow next with a shot to the rider. The man was crushed beneath the horse, regardless of laying in sand. The man shot the horse once more in the head for mercy. He whipped the rifle in the direction of Vance.

...And found it ever so difficult to hold his arms and the rifle up now. His free hand slipped from the rifle to his side, as he slowly staggered about, losing his balance and collapsing to one knee. The gun fell to the wayside as he looked towards Vance, the only living man now, slowly walking towards him. His eyes focused further to the opened chamber of the revolver. One by one, bullets were loaded in, but what was happening? He didn't have any shots left, right?

The mans focus fell downward to himself. His hands reached to the area first, and he raised them to his line of sight as he continued to slowly gaze upon himself. He could feel it now, just as he could see it. The warmth slowly covered his sun charred skin, the crimson a gorgeous blend now, spread far and wide in the area, temporarily bringing color to an otherwise nearly desolate area. His hand reached to his chest, trying to pin the wound, but he could already tell it was too late. A throwing knife was embedded deeply, the lengthy and thin blade in as deep as the handle.

"Son- I'm a criminal. Killin' is my nature. I don't particularly like killin' innocent folk like yourself, but it does set a precident now, don't it?" Vance was temporarily distracted. He looked to where his other man had been thrown from his horse. He raised his pistol quickly and shot the horse. He could see the shattered leg that had buckled the horse in the first place. The digger must have smashed it with the shovel in an attempt for a diversion. Clever. It had clearly worked. "Reigns? That you, old man? You alive over there?" A cough and sputter for air answered the silence that temporarily followed. "Bo......ss...." "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Vance raised his pistol further in his direction pulling the trigger once and killing Reigns now. His head snapped at the dying man.

"These men were criminals. Killin' ... wasn't always in THEIR nature. Anything else was 'right with 'em. Rape. Theft. Destruction. Killin' though- too many of 'em can't always get in line. Despite the tales of people on the brink, HUMANITY LIVES ON IT SEEMS.

"But it's skipped me. You took from me. I'm taking back, FOR me. May the lord embrace you."

... heh... there... is... no... God..

Vance raised the pistol. The man watched the barrel glimmer in the sun, his final breathes coming to him. Vance's knife had brought him to the edge, but he planned to truly take his life here and now. It was such slow motion now. Each grain of sand seemed to create a complete screen in the path of the men. The sun refracting off every grain created a terrific scene. The hammer drew back with a million clicks, each louder than the last, to the point of being deafening. But the next sound was even more so deafening and was complimented by a blinding flash of fire and a final click...

...and then nothing.













AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!



The silence of the night was broken rather suddenly by the scream. His heart raced. Sweat poured off his body. A flash of lightning outside the window. A roar of thunder. A storm outside was ridiculously strong right now. Rain pelted the glass window, which was also rattling slightly thanks in part to the high winds outside. He raised his right hand and wiped away the sweat on his forehead, sighing in relief. He fell back against the bed and sweat soaked sheets. A dream. Just a dream.

No, a memory. Stronger than the others. He lived that moment, that life. He did his absolute best in the Old West to stay alive and the God wouldn't let him. He'd been thrust into yet another scenario in history that was predetermined to be deadly or change history. He'd been ordered to kill Caesar, after all. He relived the life of Brutus more than a few times, deliberately not doing what the God had intended. He found himself plucked from the body and removed from time, only to be thrust back into another moment in time in that body, usually years before the events. If he'd killed himself to be free, he awoke to being in the same life at yet another time.

He was sure the Wild West was simply a punishment. He'd never been told to do anything, simply left to rot for a period in that godforsaken shell. No power, no control. He hated the idea but was completely unable to change the circumstances. He smashed his fist against the bed and sat up, swinging his legs out from under the sole top sheet that had been covering him. A voice called from the darkness.

""At what point will you just DEAL with everything?" From the shadows, a single entity emerged, which was strange to the man who was standing, wearing solely a pair of grey sweatpants at the moment. Seeing the face of the figure, he scoffed, and ran his hand through his hair, starting off towards the bathroom of the studio apartment. "Seriously? You're ignoring me AGAIN Gojinn!?" Gojinn nodded 'yes', and stepped into the bathroom,flipping the light on. He looked into the mirror. His face was still dripping wet, as was his hair. He turned the faucet on, watching the water flow freely down and into the open drain.

"Why won't you just deal?" Gojinn looked up in the mirror at his double. "Because I'm fine. Nothing is wrong with me." he said out loud, rather casually, to a figment of his imagination. He reached into the water and cupped his hands, bringing the pool of water to his face quickly a few times to cool and rinse off. He splashed it up over his shoulders and chest, and finally through his hair. Soaking in cold water now, he reached for the towel hanging on the bathroom door and dried off, breathing a slow, calming exhale as he hung it back up and started towards the bed.

"Then why are you ignoring the Bat-phone?" Gojinn stopped mid-stride and peered over his shoulder at himself, sitting on the couch, arms outstretched along the back, feet kicked up on his coffee table. His mind raced. Did he mean..? "Yes, idiot. The phone in the wall that's vibrated about a billion times the last few weeks. Stop acting like you didn't know." Gojinn snapped his full attention to his double on the couch and posed a question: "I didn't know... how did you...?" The double dropped his head in disappointment. He quickly looked back up, springing to his feet in a rather happy, positive manner.

"You already know I'm you. IN you. I'm in your head. I know everything you know. And YOU'VE been ignoring your former partners and clients. They're not going to be too happy." Gojinn looked over to the only wall in between the bathroom and the rest of the open floor apartment. He heard it buzz very faintly within the insulation and drywall. He turned his attention to himself, standing across the room, arms folded on his chest. "So you doing this or not?"

Gojinn turned back to the phone again, hearing it buzzing once more in the wall. When he turned again, no one was there.

But he did hear the voice, "Yeah, that's what I thought."