Blood and Bitcoin: The Legend of the 118K Gang
Chapter 1:
The sun hung low over the cracked, dusty plain, painting the horizon in streaks of blood red and bitcoin orange. Only the saloon of the small town showed any signs of life, the doors creaking as they swung in the dry breeze.
The 118K Gang was in town, and noone knew how long they would be staying. Some greeted them with joy. Others feared they would linger too long, overstaying their welcome.
They'd come before, and were celebrated at first, but a few townsfolk had grown weary of their presence and thought to summon another gang to replace them.
"You'll miss us when we're gone," shouted their leader at the barkeep as he set his empty glass on the bar, slurring his words from the whisky that he'd be downing all afternoon.
The barkeep refilled the glass and said nothing -- he knew better than to rile up the temper of Wade Stallion with words.
Just then the saloon doors flung open, the silhouetted shape of a tall man standing with there with hands at his hips.
"I think it's time you fellers took to the hills," he said.
"I think it's time you shut yer mouth," Wade shot back. "The 118K Gang doesn't go until I say we go. And I ain't goin' nowhere now."
"My name's Errol Dawgins," said the man in the door as he slowly started to saunter in to the saloon. "I got it on good authority that 135K is imminent, so I says you best be leaving -- imminently if you don't want to end up in the cemetery up yonder."
"You wanna settle this outside?" asked Wade.
Errol barely nodded, but he turned around and walked out, stopping briefly at the exit to look back and indicate he was ready for a showdown.
