Editing Eight of Hearts: 'Equalizer'

He stumbled into our room with eyes like a deer caught in a thunderstorm. I'd heard a couple screams from downstairs, figured someone had just been caught cheating or drank some of the bad stuff what made 'em see demons and the like.

My friend told me different. Told me we had to pack, get out of this town, maybe we could reach the California border in a couple days. I'm sittin' here, puzzled as fuck, no sooner than the word "why" came outta my mouth than he just started ramblin' on.

"There's a Card in this inn," he started, "and we'd best not even try to look at the guy what has it." I looked at 'im for a sec, movin' my hand so he'd go on. He sits down, pours himself a drink, and downs it in one gulp before continuing.

Now what he said was this:

The gun--it's a shotgun, real fancy. Odd as that is, you'd expect something up, and wouldn't you know it the handle has eight hearts running up the handle. Nobody in the tavern so much as looked at 'em for 10 or so minutes, then a trio of the bastards who declare themselves the town hotshots on account of there being nobody else that wants to just walk right up to him.

The biggest one doesn't even try subtlety, just asks him for his weapon, tellin' him it's against the law and he'll bring it to she sheriff for confiscation. The guy doesn't so much as turn his head. "Stopit"--all he said, not like a sentence so much as its own word. "Fraid I can't, friend", the roughneck spit at 'em. So the gunslinger just reaches for his weapon and puts it to his shoulder. Not above it so he can aim at the harasser, right like he was gonna shoot himself. Now the three are havin' a big laugh about it and shoutin' to the tavern that this man respected 'em so much, that he'd give them his arm along with his gun.

The laughing stopped with a single 'click'. Everyone's eyes were on the gunslinger's finger. That one noise was louder and loomed bigger over the room than a thousand shots would at that moment. Not more'n three second later, one o' the follower guys' arm gets blown clean off, flies across the room. Immediately after, the man puts the gun to the side of his hip like he's aimin' for his own gut this time. Click. The second one falls over like a house o' cards, blown clean in half by a silent shot that never was. The leader, scared shitless, screams louder than any of 'em and runs out the door while the gunslinger's hand begins to rise.

Click.

A horrible thump comes from outside the door like someone fainted, and flyin' all the way towards the bar, breaking a few glasses, comes the leader's head. The man what did all this just grumbles like an irritated grandpa. "Tolemtheyshuddastopit, bastardknewwahcominforem". Again with the sentence-words. He lays a real big wad o' cash down on the table, presumably as payment for all the kinds o'damages he did today.

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