Hang Me, Oh Hang Me

The cowboy hardly flinched at the known warning sound of a rattle, only watching as the other quickly went from riled up to calm in seconds. As the serpent huffed and hissed, his lips ever so slightly curled into a small smile though remained hidden underneath his bandana. “Well, I do consider m’self a pretty lucky fella.”

“You have lied in every word.” { Ares retorted, while sitting there across the fire. The darkness was at his back, while the fire gleamed in his eyes. The claim of no fear settled on Redwood thoughts about their current talk. He found the statement false, false and ignorant. } “Only fools have no fear.” { Redwood said, not meaning to insult the other, but his tone often accomplished such. He sighed, his eyes settled on the flames which danced and moved. }

“Well, Mama didn’t raise a scholar, y’know.” The cowboy had shrugged Redwood’s comment off. Was he a fool? Foolhardy, maybe, but there was a certain intelligence to Warren. It wasn’t the kind of intelligence one found in books, but instead found in many years of hard life. 

“I still ain’t lied though.” 

Warren’s the type to tauntingly and hauntingly sing the chorus of Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked - Cage The Elephant. 

{ Grinning faintly, Scratch continued his plundering and pilfering. This activity was normal for Scratch, necessary for survival. Searching the man’s pockets, Scratch retrieved a pocket watch. The stainless pocket watched was weathered and pitted, but still counted time. The glass lens was cracked, right above the twelve. Placing it aside, Scratch continued his search. } { Scratch found the wallet, plain and made from brahmin leather. Inspecting it, Scratch found the contents. Amongst several NCR dollars, scrap notes and some photos was one particular item. A large note, folded to fit the wallet. Retrieving it, Scratch unfolded the note, reading the words written onto it. } “I think this is about you.” { Scratch said, rising up to hand the note over towards Warren. }

His brow raised under the brim of his hat as he turned at Scratch’s words. Warren took the note from the other, squinting as he read it. It wasn’t quite a bounty, but akin to it. The poor soul he had just shot and killed was someone sent to merely challenge the cowboy, but not kill him. It seemed like he was the center of someone’s attention. 

There was a seal at the bottom of the note, one that Warren immediately recognized. Crumpling up the paper, he tossed it over his shoulder before looking to Scratch. “We’re gonna have t’watch ourselves now. Heat’s comin’, and it ain’t from the sun.” 

{ Dead men barely bothered Scratch. The Fiend looked upon the corpse with little interest. The gunman was dead; without much trouble to them. The Fiend was impressed with Warren’s speed and reflex. One second late, Warren would have been dead instead. }

{ Upon hearing Warren’s suggestion, Scratch shakes his head. }

“Buzzards gotta eat. Besides, I’m burying his worthless corpse.”  

{ There was another matter, which interest Scratch. Moving over towards the corpse, Scratch kneeled down. He started searching the man, mindful though about not touching the blood. }

“You want a cut? This guy must be carrying something nice.”

“Got a point there.”

With a twirl around his finger, the revolver was soon returned to its holster on the cowboy’s hip. Warren was hardly surprised to see Scratch begin to loot what belongings were on the corpse. It had hardly even begun to turn cold.  

Turning away, he surveyed the surroundings to make sure the man didn’t have any friends that would suddenly appear. He still heard what the other had said, and considered what, if anything, he could want from the deceased.

{ Redwood’s sidelong glance lingered upon Warren. He turns to Warren, amused with the other’s veiled self-assurance. A faint grin appeared then faded away. Warren’s answer was once his, his chosen belief of what roamed inside him. Years of war, years of being alone with his consequences and sins destroyed that belief. }  

“Never been afraid? You’re a poor liar.”

{ The mercenary jested, awaiting Warren’s reaction and reply. }

Warren didn’t like the look flashed his way, nor did he like what felt like doubt from the old Ghoul. Fear, he thought, was nearly impossible to feel with his hardened heart. It was lost to him after his escape from the Legion, and instead replaced with the very darkness that Redwood accused him of being afraid of.

“I ain’t got nothin’ to lie about. Y’know that.” 

HALLOWEEN II STARTERS

@strcngeweather

“Ya ain’t been trick - or - treated enough if yer still talkin’.” 

If his gruff tone wasn’t enough to show his callousness, then the fact that he purposefully did not look her way as he spoke would. Instead Warren preoccupied himself with knife and using it to pick his nails clean. Though something told him his blatant disinterest would hardly make her stop. 

HALLOWEEN II STARTERS

@beenpole

“Ya can’t shoot what he ain’t got!”

Brutes like this were not at the top of Warren’s list of things to deal with. He watched as the Nightkin stumbled back with each shot to the chest, but never fell. With his rifle raised, he took a shot that pierced yet another hole in the mutant’s chest before aiming slightly higher for the next shot to the head. There was a solid thud as the corpse finally fell.

HALLOWEEN  II STARTERS

@thx-lost-yxars​

“Yeah? Well, he ain’t no longer.” 

His head tilted as he studied the body laid on the ground before the two. Four holes oozing crimson littered the corpse’s chest as faint smoke unfurled from the revolver in Warren’s hand. He didn’t take kindly to those with a death wish.

HALLOWEEN  II STARTERS

@the-last-command

“Who’s this we?”

Warren was no stranger to the darkness that made a home inside him. His bad deeds had stretched over decades, and for a period within that time he had even enjoyed it. His brow arched under the wide brim of his hat as he looked the other over.