The Man in Black

     The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed, cursing herself for letting him slip through her fingers once again.  Curse her weakness for good Bloody Mary's; she knew her limit should be two, and yet she was in the middle of her fourth, each accompanied by a beer chaser, when Stokel entered the pub.
     In the gunslinger's defense, the last she had heard from Stokel he was half-way across the world nearly in the grasp of her colleague; it seems she's not the only one not doing her job.
     As the initial adrenaline rush wore off, the illusion that the alcohol had lost its effect shattered, as did her ankle.
     Damn!