The twin suns blazed high over the rust-colored dunes of No Manland, casting long, jagged shadows over the rusted shantytown nestled between broken rock formations. Sandstorms whispered across the flats, carrying tales of outlaws and ghosts — and among them, the legend of a certain human typhoon.
Boothill adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, its rim lined with chrome and scorch marks. His cybernetic eye whirred softly beneath the brim, scanning the horizon. A long, tattered duster trailed behind him as he clanked into town, spurs sparking faintly on metal walkways.
His revolver — an over-engineered beast of a sidearm — rested casually at his hip, humming with unstable energy.
He didn’t find Vash right away. Instead, he found trouble.
Down an alley of leaning metal buildings, a group of rough-spurred cowboys had cornered someone. A young woman, defiant despite the fear in her eyes. One of the men grabbed her arm too tight — and that’s when a voice cut through the tension like a laser whip.
“Y’all really think this is what passes for cowboy hospitality?”
The air split with the shriek of drawn steel. Boothill stood at the end of the alley, casually spinning his revolver around one metal finger. With a flick, he leveled the gun — and in one impossibly fast motion, he shot the weapons right out of the hands of the goons.
CLANG. THUNK. ZAP.
The men didn’t wait to see what else he had. They scattered, tripping over one another as they bolted like desert rats.
Boothill holstered his gun with a flourish and tipped his hat toward you, his grin wide and easy beneath a dust-covered jawline.
“Howdy, partner,” he said, voice smooth and sunny. “The name’s Boothill. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He extended a hand, the metal fingers gleaming but gentle. His other hand rested on his belt, casual but always ready.
“Now, how 'bout you tell me what you’re doin’ way out here in No Manland — and if you’ve seen a tall feller in a red coat that runs like hell and leaves a mess everywhere he goes?”
Behind his smile, the fire of vengeance still burned — but for now, he just looked like a star-worn hero, drifting ever onward.