Sand kicks up across the land, a gentle breeze flowing through the quiet town as the ever-cliche' tumbleweeds blew through the road, leaving me dead-center in the town as I looked on at those daring to wander the streets under the scorching hot sun of mid-day summer. Despite the heat and sand, however...it truly did seem like a peaceful place, even despite the fact that I knew what I was here for.

Nevertheless...it was peaceful, and I liked it. Just a shame that not too long from now the air'll be lit up with gunfire.

The name's Quick-Draw Pericolo. They call me the dominator, a play on my first name, and the fact that in every duel I've been in...I was always the first man to draw his gun. When things get bad...they call on me. I've killed many men with this here gun of mine...I'm not like your typical cowboy. I ain't here to save ya', I ain't here to break the law, to rob trains or to save the sheriff's wife.

I'm just here for the sake of it really. I'm a wanderer y'know, never stay in one place for too long. Always out and about, lookin' for somethin' to do. When death stares me in the eye I stare right back at it, I ain't never backed down yet. Hell, had I blinked it woulda been a bullet to the chest for me.

I've got enough scars on my arm to show the times where death almost out-lasted me in the starin' contest...a few nicks where a bullet grazed my face. I've cheated death more times then I can count on any of my fingers, let alone addin' in my toes.

I read the wanted poster, a straw of hay hangin' out of my mouth. I was wearing a black cowboy hat, worn rugged from all the places I'd been, the places it's seen alongside me and the dust and rocks that've worn the ol' thing away. This hat, however, was given to me by my dad 'fore I left from home, and I ain't stopped wearin' it sense. Amazin' it still fits me, I guess all the wear an'tear makes it stretch out easier for me.

On the poster was a black man, his name emblazened across the bottom as "Lunatic Lambert". He was famous for his closed-eye shooting style, something I myself adapted long ago. It was better not to look at your opponent before you riddled'm with a bullet, atleast in my mind anyway.

I surveyed the area, I wasn't the only one dressed like this. My boots with spurs, faded and a bit torn up jeans...white shirt you can't even tell used to be white 'cause of the dust it had on it tucked into my pants with a brown leather vest over that.

I hadn't shaved in awhile, I had the whole rugged look goin' on...didn't really care much; to be honest.

I'm just a lone cowboy in a way...one guy lookin' out for number one, and fightin' death like it 'twas a game. Me an' the reaper are ol' friends ya' might say...my gun an' his scythe make quite the couple when we fight.

So why am I here, ya' might be wonderin'? For the challenge. For the thrill. I know this may be my last showdown, it may be my last sunrise and sunset...but hell, I've faced death and won so many times, maybe it's time the ol' boy got one up on me.

I've fought outlaws like Lambert before, y'see...never really cared much for the guy I was up against. I just got out there and did what I had ta' do, no questions asked. There were a few times where I missed my mark, nailed the guy in the arm or the stomach...didn't kill'm right away but he fell. 'reckon that's lady luck for ya'...there were draws I've been in where I won but didn't kill.

Don't think I hesitated, I jus' misjudged my aim. Can't be perfect, y'know? No one gets their shot everytime. Though I'm sure whoever walks outta this here competition'll have all the braggin' rights in the world for bein' the quickest draw in the west.

I've faced indians, cowboys, outlaws, the law itself...and lemme tell ya' somethin', when you're fightin' for your life, the luck of the draw doesn't always help. How quick ya' can pull a gun from it's holster won't aid ya' when you're up against them indians with their arrows. It takes'm a few seconds to string up one and let it fly, and another for it to hit and it all be over.

Ya' gotta think fast...not just draw fast, y'know?

So I head on over to the bar, figure I might as well catch a few drinks 'for I go around town searchin' for the outlaw.

"'Lunatic' Lambert...reckon' he probably knows I'm here by now.." I muttered to myself.

I pushed past the bar doors, lookin' around at everyone in the bar. Without sayin' a word, I strode over to the counter and sat, waitin' for the bartender to come around. I was a patient fellah', I could wait if I needed to.

Lord knows I've had to before.