It was another dry, hot day in the wild wild west. Though, today was no ordinary day in Gregville. A mysterious man made his way into town. This was an odd sighting as visitors never came, and yet here this man was, standing at the entrance, gazing at all eyes around him.

“Where's the one you call, Greg,” the mystery man demanded.

All the town folks stood in complete shock as to what was going on. Then Bradford, a large man with brown overalls shouted “who are you man.”

“The name’s Dan,” replied the once mystery man. He proceeded on adding, “so where's this guy Greg at? I hear he's the man around here.”

The people in the crowd had no response, no movement, no assistance to this man who has yet to express who he is. Suddenly the crowd begins to part like the sea, and out comes a tall man, equipped with a brown cowboy hat, red bandana, boots and jeans, and a revolver at his hip.

“I believe you are seeking me,” explained the man. “Who even are you?” He questioned.

Dan's facial expressions shifted as he seemed to be in shock with the question. “Ohhhh, so we're playing silly games like these now,” he taunted.

“I'm not picking up,” Greg replied.

“Do you remember 10 years ago, when you came to these beautiful lands that were run by a different crowd,” he questioned. “Well when you decided to kill everyone off and take prisoners to a remote island in the middle of the sea. You forgot some of us know how to swim,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Man, that was a long long time ago. It's a new place with new people,” Greg said, trying to be calm and neutral.

Dan spit on the ground and laughed. “You really are dumb huh now. You think I care about that. No. I want what is mine, and that is something that you have here,” he said angrily.

“Look man. What's done is done. I can give you some money and we can be on our way,” Greg said.

Dan stood there with disgust on his face. He yelled “I don’t want your cheap money. I want revenge and to honor those who died at the tips of your dirty hands.”

The two of them stood there. Eye to eye. Suddenly, Dan whipped out his revolver, followed by Greg pulling out his revolver.

Greg said calmly, “We don’t have to do this.”

Dan replied, “oh but we have to. My people deserve to know I regained what was ours.”

The two of them stood there. Guns aimed at each other. Every flinch the other returned back with a flinch.

“You know, if you were gonna do it. I think you would have pulled the trigger by now,” Greg said cockily.

Suddenly a loud bang could be heard. There layed Greg. Dead on the ground, lifeless, swimming in a pool of his own blood.

The crowd surrounding the standoff created a loud gasp of absolute shock. 

“You know. He said I wouldn't do it,” Dan snarked as he slowly approached the crowd. “And you know what I'm gonna do now,” he asked? “I’m gonna take back what is truly mine.”

Shots rang out from the end of Dan's revolver as body for body he massacred the people in the town. Rangers, bartenders, wives, kids. After a while of absolute chaos the town stood still. Dan had completed his wish. The town which was once his, then not, is now finally his again.

Dan would walk to the main building of the town, the Rangers home. He kicked down the door and made his way upstairs to reveal a large leather chair, surrounded by guns, animal heads, and beer. Dan slowly approached the chair where he glided his body into the comfort of the elegant seat.

“Ahh, is this nice,” he exclaimed.

He poured himself a cup of whisky as he kicked back and relaxed. His plan had unfolded to perfection.

BOOM!

Dan's head flopped to the side. Body was as still as a tree. Out from behind the chair came a little boy, around the age of 5.

“Just like my dad taught me,” giggled the little boy.

His name was Greg Jr.