It took twenty-eight hours to arrive in New California. twenty on the road, progressing at a natural, calm pace. Eight for a good night's sleep. I rode through the forest, over the mountains, and into the desert in which New California resided.

The climate changed far too quickly and unnaturally. I didn't really care, so I just tossed my jacket into my saddlebags, leaving all my guns and pouches in plain view. Now it was plain to see what kind of man I am.

My captive, Jimmy, gave me directions and received an elbow to his face when he gave anything but, though that didn't stop his crying. Jeff was uncharacteristically quiet, which I appreciated. I wasn't in the mood for witty banter. I was in the mood for exactly one thing, and I was going to get it.

It felt like a second but I soon found myself at my destination. The town was surrounded by a wall, much like the unnamed town of the Chaira's, but was far more impressive. It was 15 feet tall, and made of concrete. It surrounded most of the town. The front entrance was still under construction, leaving a sizeable gap big enough for the vehicles I saw before.

There were only three men manning the wall. According to Jimmy, they had around 200 citizens, with 120 able-bodied fighters. Forty less, now. I wasn't too sure why they only had 3 guards. I suppose they weren't expecting visitors.

I patted Jeff. "This is our stop."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Get out of here."

Jeff whinnied quietly as I dismounted, throwing Jimmy from his back. He landed with a sharp gasp, as he should, as I aimed at a particularly sharp rock. The kid was debilitated, barely conscious. I cut the bindings on his raw ankles and forced him to stand, pointing my revolver at his head. He sobbed louder.

"Go!" I yelled.

Jeff went, looking back only once before he disappeared He probably wouldn't come back.

The sun was shining, heatwaves visible in the desert heat. I could see vultures circling the town. Were they for me? Or them?

I walked towards the gate, Jimmy in front of me. I was only a few dozen feet away before the incompetent guards finally noticed me. The beaten, pale Jimmy only whimpered as they pointed their guns, automatic rifles.

"Who the fuck are you?! Let him go!" the one in the middle yelled, voice strained with confusion and fear.

"Where is Charles Woodswork!?" I roared, voice strained from the heavy usage.

"We'll take you to him!" he yelled. "In handcuffs! Put down your weapon!"

I prodded the barrel of the gun into Jimmy's head, being careful not to give a clear shot. "Do I really need to say it? Tell me or I'll give little Jimmy a new hole!"

I didn't really need to know. I'd find him, eventually. I was just waiting for a chance.

They gave me one, the leftmost and rightmost both turned to look at the one yelling. They saw his head explode, soon followed by the leftmost. The rightmost's reflexes allowed him a single shot before he followed suit. The shot hit Jimmy in the pelvis, destroying it.

His screams of agony were cut short as I executed him. I reloaded the revolver and moved on, stepping through the gates.

The town was something far more familiar than the metal buildings of the Chaira, all worn wood and touches of human, splotches of puke by a bar's door, well-worn footpaths between popular buildings. All the little things.

I could see citizens, men, women, and children, running towards the nearest building. An alarm started sounding. I had kicked the hornet's nest with those gunshots.

Men with guns were running to the gate, all unorganized, half of them not even dressed for the occasion. I had caught them with their pants down. Why? Did they not think there would be any consequences for sending a god damn war party after an innocent village?

Time slowed to a crawl as I made eye contact with the incoming men. I didn't bother counting, as they were coming in from all over the town as they converged on my position. It wouldn't matter.

I thought of why I was so angry. I remembered watching an old friend get burned alive by the Klan. I remembered patting another friend's shoulder in an empty gesture as he stood in the ashes of his ancestral home, crying over the charred, scalped corpse of his mother. The anger filled me. It invigorated me. It made me who I was.

I could feel it now. This wasn't just me, this was something more. The System. I could feel its touch in my body. In my head, in my boots, in my trigger finger. It was like a muscle I've never bothered to stretch, one I never knew I had until this very moment.

Well then. I suppose its time for some exercise.

I opened fire. Every shot like a hammer, snapping through the air with an unnatural force. It blew my targets into pieces, destroying bodies and sending piles of gore and bone shards flying in every which way. Six died in two seconds as I shot faster than I ever had.

I reloaded it while I drew and shot with my left revolver, slower since my right hand was too busy to fan it. It was quick enough. Three more died before the rest had a chance to open fire, and I dived behind a corner. I reloaded both guns and sprinted around the building, boots hitting the ground with force I never knew I was capable of.

I turned the corner, getting a dead angle on the approaching attackers. I opened fire again, gunning town more and more. 12 were dead now, the main street littered with distorted bodies, walls painted with blood of all colors, from the dark brown of gut shots to the bright red of the heart. I could hear screaming as the citizenship watched from windows, and the dying wailed as the life left their broken bodies. Their last thoughts would be of confusion and pain.

I stepped back onto the street, still shooting, acting on instinct. I screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

"Charles Woodswork, I'm here for you!"

Foolish? Yes. Cathartic? Indeed. I could see no more targets in my line of sight. I was alone amongst the bodies.

I wouldn't be alone long.

I heard it before I saw it. I recognized the sound from the attack on the village. It was those damn horseless carriages. It turned the corner and I noted that it was covered in armor, even on it's mounted machinegun. It swiveled to me as it approached, and I ran as quickly as I could to the opposite end of the street, cutting off its sightline. I barreled through the doors of a large-looking building with two stories.

There were men inside, waiting around both sides of the entrance. I crossed my revolvers across my arms and shot them both before they could react. I wondered if they were waiting for a chance to shoot me, or planned to just hide in there forever. It didn't matter now.

I ran towards the stairs, running past a sobbing woman curled up in a ball. An old man with a shotgun came down the stairs. He obviously wasn't part of the able-bodied man category. I shot him anyway.

His corpse tumbled down the stairs next to me, and I kept moving.

"Daddy!" wailed the woman, as her father's broken corpse came to a stop next to her hiding spot. I ignored her.

Doors shut as I ran to the second story. I figured which room would have the best window from my cursory view of the exterior, and kicked it down. Inside was another woman cowering, covering a child in her arms, as if hiding him from sight was an effective countermeasure for a deranged gunman.

I ignored them and took cover by the window, peering out. The vehicle was stopped right in front of the shop I was hiding in. It was surrounded by 20 or so gunmen. The nest in which the gunner resided was surrounded by armor, save for the very top. I still couldn't get an angle.

There was an older man who stepped forward, authority practically radiating from his personage. "Come out with your hands behind your head!" he yelled. Ha! If I had a dollar for how many times I've heard that, I could pay off my old bounty.

"Bring me Charles Woodswork, and I'll consider it!" I lied transparently.

He raised an eyebrow. "What the hell did he do to piss you off? We'de all be dead if it weren't for him!"

"Sending a goddamn death squad to my town was a good start!"

He looked even more confused. "You mean the insect village?"

Insect. I was filled with a fresh wave of rage. I was done talking. I took another gander, seeing that the truck was 15 feet away, and the gunner was slightly visible. I had an idea.

I stepped back away from the window, all the way towards the cowering woman. She cowered even more, somehow, as I prepped myself for a sprint. I channeled every bit of my newfound strength as I charged for the window, and leapt through it.