[Dixie County. It was one of the two main factions of America that had states breaking away from the union in order to keep using slaves. I couldn't help but feel uneasy as I rode across the ground. One false move and my black ass will find itself in some kind of black market slave trade.]

[But I digress.]

[Anyway, I rode my trusty steed across the land as the day slowly turned into a starry night. I rode up aside a cliff as I dismounted my horse and walked ahead. The thing about horses is that they're a lot like dogs: if you train them well enough, they're pretty loyal.]

[I walked on ahead the unstable cliff as I got my six-shooters ready. From my perch, I could see a small fire around a camp sight. When I saw they all had the same black pinched front hat with skull ornaments, I was sure I had found the Pierce Gang.]

Huckleberry crouched down as he looked down from his perch on the rocky cliffs. There were about four men all sitting around the fire that Huckleberry could make out. He was watching them for some time and he hadn't seen anyone approach the group or leave the fire. Huckleberry slowly took out a revolver and aimed the gun down at one of them men.

[I didn't bother giving a warning shot. These bastards had never given any man such luxury.]

The roaring of his pistols cut through the air as Huckleberry shot down rounds at the unsuspecting campers. He slid down the side of the cliff as he popped bullets from his revolver. He hit two men in the chest before they could arm themselves, another reached for his own pistol as the last man drew a shotgun.

Huckleberry reached the ground and jumped to the side, avoiding a shotgun blast from one of the men. He rolled through the dirt, shooting the shotgunner in his forehead, killing him dead, and he quickly shot at the man who was clumsily loading his revolver. He shot his hand, the man screaming as he dropped his now bloody six-shooter and bullets onto the ground as he held his hand in agony.

"Y-you bastard! Wh-who the hell are you?!"

"I'm your Huckleberry." He dusted himself off and walked over to the last man standing. He twirled his six-shooters in before putting one in its holster and pointing the other at his head. "And I'm looking for Clifton Pierce. Now where is he?"

The man hissed at Huckleberry, clutching his bleeding hand as he looked up at him. "And what makes ya think I'll say a word, you ugly ass nigga?!"

Huckleberry gave the man a smirk and a hard kick to his chin, knocking him over onto his back. He raised that leg and stomped on his left knee while pointing his revolver at his crotch. "Tell me, friend? You know what a bullet to the dick can do to a man? It's the slowest kind of death you could ask for."

"He's in town!" The outlaw shouted frantically. "He and the others went into town with the horses! Th-they left about an hour ago! Please don't shoot my nuts! I-I don't wanna die!"

Huckleberry chuckled, blowing on the barrel of his gun and putting it back into it's holster. "See, friend? That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He bent down and started picking up the ma's dropped ammo before he got off of him. He started heading to town, reloading his six-shooters as he said, "Dusty Banks is about a 2 hour ride west. If you don't wanna get caught in a crossfire, you'd best consider going that way for a doctor."

[I left the man there as I headed to town. It was a short walk from their camp and I didn't feel the need to get my steed and I stripped the site of the weapons and ammo of the man's dead friends. I figured that I could get the drop on Pierce, get his bounty, and walk right out of town.]

Huckleberry looked and saw the sign that said 'Purity Bluff' and grinned excitedly. He checked his revolvers and his newly acquired sawed-off shotgun. All loaded up and ready. He put the guns back in their holsters and headed to town under the pale moonlight.

[That was a big mistake.]

A loud boom got Huckleberry's attention, as well as the various men who were just standing around outside of the town. Huckleberry looked into the air, seeing the last few moments of a flare gun's explosion. It was a bright red light that lit up the night.

[Ya see, what I didn't know was that the men at camp were Pierce's lookouts. That flare gun was their warning sign and that scrawny bastard just alerted his mates.]

"What in tarnation?" Huckleberry pulled down his hat to hide his eyes from the sharp light as h turned around. When he saw a man look square at him and reach for a pistol in his holster, Huckleberry reacted quickly. He pulled out his own gun and fired a bullet square in the man's face.

[Now, if I was a little bit smarter, I would've been able to maybe slip away. Talk my way into a better situation and get the drop on these guys. But my damn reflexes were too sharp, and that was what turned this simple job into a storm of gunfire.]

"Aw hell." Huckleberry made a mad dash behind the town's gate, pining himself behind a post of wood as bullets flew threw the air. They were all around him. They whizzed past his head and he could feel the pillar shake from the bullets embedding into the wood. He swore under his breath, as he tried to wait out the torrent of bullets.

The faint sound of silence pierced the noise. It was a small window of opportunity, but he took it. He dashed from his hiding spot as he took his revolver and pointed it at the hapless men reloading. He fired off rounds from his gun that nailed men who were reloading. He emptied his gun and managed to avoid a second torrent of bullets as he got himself behind a building to shield him.

When the bullets stopped coming, Huckleberry quickly reloaded his revolver and put it back in his holster. He was sure by now, the cowboys had realized that unloading bullets into wood wouldn't do them any good. Huckleberry got his sawed-off ready in his hands as he started to sneak around the back alleys of the town. He crept into an alleyway with his shotgun ready. when he saw two men in the alley, he managed to get the drop on him.

He pulled the trigger as a loud bang echoed. He shotgun sprayed bullets and showered the two men in the alley with bullets. They dropped dead and the sound of footsteps tickled his ears. He was being surrounded. With his sawed-off in one hand and a fistful of ammunition in the other, he ran out of the alleyway and fired at another man who was coming at him.

He didn't stop-couldn't stop. He kept darting, bobbing and weaving to avoid getting shot as he dodged revolver fire and reloaded his shotgun. Once reloaded he slid across the dirt and fired off his two shots, spraying more men with his ammo as he counted about six men dead. He hurried off of the ground and ducked behind a nearby house as he panted heavily.

So far so good, Huckleberry thought to himself as he started reloading again. With his sawed-off ready, he got ready to jump back into the fray as gunfire broke through his ears and a bullet pierced one of his arms. He shouted out as he dropped his shotgun. He fought off the urge to clutch his now bleeding arm as he quickly drew a revolver. He avoided another bullet from his attacker, pointing his gun and shooting down the man who shot him.

"Shit!" People were running. Huckleberry quickly snatched the tie from around his neck and tied it around his arm. It was sloppy, but it would stop his bleeding for now. He grabbed his second gun and waited until he could manage to poke his guns from behind the corner. Once he was sure the men were close enough, he popped his head from around the corner and shooting down two men. He quickly ducked back behind the building, avoiding another storm of bullets.

Huckleberry took a deep breath as he ran further down the alleyway. He grabbed some barrels and toppled them over. He would use them for cover as he bent down behind the wooden containers. He waited a short time before bullets would hit his barrel ad whizzing over his head.

"We've got 'em! He's over here!"

"Dirty snitch." Huckleberry snuck from behind his barrels and back into the back alleys to get away from his pin. From this preferred angle, he was able to perform some trick shots. He ricocheted bullets off of the walls of a building and hit his pursuers as he heard them cry out and drop their guns. He jumped from behind the house and shot the two men dead, killing them with shots to the heart.

Huckleberry did a quick count of his revolver ammo as he headed back for his shotgun. He put them back in their holsters and swiped back up his sawed-off. As he turned back around, he decided that he would try to recuperate and try to hurry and hunt down Pierce. He loaded up his gun and took a peek from around the corner.

He looked to his left. No thugs.

Right, the same.

The noise had stopped. It sounded like the close was clear. He headed out into the open as he looked around town. It looks like Pierce's men had all been disposed of-at least, as far as he could tell. He ran over to the saloon and kicked the door down. He shouted, "Clifton Pierce! I'm calling you out!"

With his sawed-off in hand, all eyes fell on him. Men with skulls on their hats all glared him down and all reached for their shooting irons. Huckleberry quickly turned his shotgun on a few men and unloaded a volley of shots. His gun roared as men fell from their seats into sprays of blood. He quickly took his empty gun and threw it at a man who had unshuckled his gun, nailing and breaking his nose.

Quickly, Huckleberry jumped behind a table and flipped it over, blocking incoming fire from the last three members of Pierce's gang. He took back out his revolvers and once the rain of bullets stopped, he popped out like a jackrabbit. He unloaded shots quickly, killing the survivors and pointed his gun at the man who was trying to recover from his bleeding nose. The man hurried to his gun, but Huckleberry shot his hand, getting a scream of agony from the man.

His howl echoed through the bar as he shouted, "y-you son of a bitch!"

"My mother was a saint, dummy." Huckleberry shot him dead as he put his gun back into his holster. He panted as he took off his silk hat and fanned himself. "Damn it, there must have been at least 15 men, armed to the teeth, and not one of 'em was," Huckleberry stopped when he heard the clicking of spurs coming closer to the door. He slapped his hat back on and tuned around. Just as he did, the door was pushed open.

[And just like that, he was upon me.]

Huckleberry looked at the portly man with the burly mustache and beard. He scowled at Huckleberry, his gold teeth flashing in the saloon's light. He had a skull in his cap and rage in his eyes. The jolly man had four pistols sticking up from his trousers and his coat was covered in stains of sweat and food. His fat face was chewing on something in his mouth and his lips released his tobacco-ridden drool.

"You the negro lookin' for me?" He hand hovered over his guns as he stared down his bounty hunter.

"I'm your Huckleberry." Huckleberry's own hand moved to his holstered gun. The two stared the other down, circling the now quiet tavern as both men looked each other in the eyes. This was a duel and both men were prepared to go for the kill.

[Clifton 'Dead-Eye' Pierce. Wanted for multiple accounts of murder, horse thieving, and bank robbery. He got the name 'Dead-Eye' for his uncanny ability to shoot a man right in his eye. But that was when he wasn't a fat, old bastard reaching 55.]

"You got a lot of nerve comin' into my town, shootin' my men, and callin' me, and grinning like a possum eating persimmons." Clifton scowled, his hand slowly reaching for his gun as he stared into that grinning face on the bounty hunter's face.

Huckleberry just kept up his grin. "Now what's wrong with my grin? Plenty of young ladies say I got teeth like a horse. So why shouldn't I show 'em off?" Huckleberry's hand was steady, but stationary. Even as he watched Clifton's hand draw closer to his collection of pistols.

"I'm gonna enjoy adding your shootin' irons to my collections, negro."

"By all means, come and take 'em while they're hot."

[I watched Pierce from across that bar and I could read him like a dime novel. His fat arms were slow and sluggish. His breath was heavy and he was sweating bullets. It wasn't cause he was fat, it was cause he was scared. Scared cause I was so confident and calm. I was staring death in the eye and wasn't flinching.]

Clifton grabbed his gun's handle, but Huckleberry drew his own pistol and pulled the trigger. It was over in a second, and in that second, Clifton had a bullet in his chest and his back on the ground as he died right there on the floor.

Huckleberry chuckled, he blew on the barrel of his revolver and holstered it. He gave a heavy sigh as he turned to one of the employees at the bar, "go get the constable, would ya?" He ran out of the tavern as he walked over to the bar. He sat down and looked at the bewildered barkeeper with a heavy sigh, "barkeep, get me a soda. Lots of soda."

The barkeep nervously complied as he asked, "y-you seem awfully down. Y-you just bagged yourself a pretty nice bounty."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna have to collect every single dead body off the street. And it's gonna be a long night..." Huckleberry grabbed his drink and started chugging. "I'm gonna need a lot of sugar for this."