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What are you waiting for?
He stood at the very edge of eternity. His face poured with sweat, his hair matted together in bloody clumps. He could feel a stabbing pain when he breathed. A broken rib, mayhap two. And then there was the gouts of blood that ebbed from his head; ears. nostrils, eyes, mouth.
"So this is dying," the man said, "Alright then." he charged at the hulking figure that stood before him and drew his gun from the holster that snaked across his side. It was an elegant looking machine; a Smith and Wesson Classic .44 revolver.
"Wait." And to his surprise, the man felt his feet falter.
"After all this, you want me to WAIT??? Why?!"
"So that I may pose a dying man's question," the hulking figure replied, "Are we well met?"
"I don't understand you."
"Come now Alex. We haven't the time for foolishness. It's no secret we are both staring over the edge of eternity. So I'll ask you again. Are we well met?"
"Aye, so we are."
"Then let's end this as the gentlemen we are, and not as the barbarians we've become."
"Aye." The one called Alex holstered his gun, "Ten paces then?"
"Fifteen, in honor of the fifteen years we've been waiting for this."
"Think your old body can muster it?"
"Aye, so it can."
They turned their backs to each other, and began their final journey. When the fifteenth step was sounded, Alex whipped around and fanned the .44's hammer. The machine let out a six crashing reports that sounded as if one voice had exalted itself above the multitude. He felt his heart burst as three slugs ripped their way through it. Everything went black, but not before he witnessed the hulking man's chest cave in. As his body fell limply to the ground he uttered a single inaudible phrase.
"Well met... Father."
