Dead Settin' Sun - 1

It hurt with every movement he made. His legs, his feet, his hands, his arms, it hurt to breathe; perpetual pain. He didn't care though, he had long since grown used to it. This day was just like the others, spent searching for someone who probably didn't exist. That was the point though, if he did find him, all that would be left was a legend.

He walked on foot through the desert, through the dust hidden behind a hooded robe reaching just below his knees, he wore a ski mask to hide his face, sunglasses, always darkened, gloves to protect his hands, boots, and a strange red wrapping on his legs, not translucent enough to see inside. He also had nails sticking into his cheeks and chin, Lord knows why.

He carried a sickle in one hand and a semi-automatic machine gun slung over his back, like a soldier at war. In a sense, he was at war but with just three other men and a woman. The others and the legend, the one behind it all, who supposedly ordered the attack.

He had a name once, not anymore. When he died, he would barely be a footnote in history, he didn't care. Vengeance had all but consumed him.

He took a swig of water from his canteen hanging from a belt on his waist and it poured over his lipless mouth into his throat and as he walked the cacti and the rocks moved away from him, sensing his anger and hatred. Was this a demon walking the Earth or just some poor soul who'll look for a place to die when he's done?