In the saloon of Malachite City a Cowboy sits. He comes from another world with automated carriages and hand held talking devices, "smart phones" as he calls them, but he arrived here on the back of a twister. Taking a liking to the place, and plenty thankful for the gifts the twister gave him he doesn't really want to go back.

 There was no record of a Cowboy existing in this land until the cyclone brought him here five years ago. Nobody, but him, knows exactly what a Cowboy is. This bounty hunter, that wears a red bandanna, a poncho, and an odd circular straw hat tied around his chin, that he calls a Sombrero. The Cowboy mostly works contracts for the Munchkin Police. Today, he road his horse of many colors, at a reasonable blue speed, to a meet with his MP correspondent.

The Cowboy walked into Hippo Pete’s saloon, and saw a green rattlesnake man drinking beer, (Or at least what this world call’s beer. According to the Cowboy, beer on his world usually isn’t purple and nowhere near as sweet.) he’s seen apes with wings, goat men, little kids that don’t aged, and all manner of other strange things that just don’t make sense, but the Cowboy still wasn’t used to it. Part of him was unnerved by a real life snake man, but he got over it quickly. . The Cowboy sat next to the snake man and ordered a whiskey (Which tasted the same here as in the cowboys world. Though we make it with grapes instead of corn.)

“Howdy stranger,” The talking Hippopotamus bar tender said. “Are you new around these parts?”

“I’m the Cowboy,” He said and tipped his sombrero to the man.

“Nice to mete ya, I’m Pete, owner of this here establishment,” The Hippo smiled.

“I’m looking for a little Leprechaun called Brader,” The Cowboy asked.

“Well Mister I haven’t seen any—”

“Racist!” A high pitched voice came from the doorway.

The Cowboy turned to see a four foot man, his contact Brader, standing in the doorway. The dark haired, clean shaven Munchkin wore the classic green and gold suit of an official Border Officer.

“I am not one of those red bearded bankers from the Green Isles,” Brader said angrily.

“Take it as a term of endearment Brady,” The Cowboy said, returning to his drink. “You bring the files?”

“You bring the files,” Brader repeated sarcastically. Then he sat next to the Cowboy and handed him a black file sheet. “Here’s your target.”

The cowboy opened the file and saw the image of a red colored snake man, the name read Simon “Cruel Shot” Kreg. 

“Clever,” The Cowboy rolled his eyes. “What did Mr. Kreg do?”

“Killed twelve humans, a Poodle, and a Minotaur outside of the Gray City,” Brader explained. “That and a growing list of several other heinous deeds, looks like he’s aiming to be the new leader of the Snake Gang in these parts, he’s hiding somewhere in town. Bounty is five thousand runes dead and ten thousand alive.”

“Snake Gang?” The Cowboy laughed. “Maybe he’s in the Snake Hole?”

The green snake man gave him a cruel stare at that remark and began to rattle his tail, but the Cowboy didn’t seem to notice.

“You have a real mouth on you,” Brader scolded. "It’s gonna get you killed."

Suddenly, the snake man snaps his neck at the Cowboy, but all his poisonous fangs tasted was air. Dense swirling air, the Cowboy turned into a swirl out of his bar stool and turned solid again behind the snake man and drew his twin revolvers.

“The same thing Mr. Rattles is about to see,” The Cowboy smiled. “I have a little twister in me.”

“What the hec,” Brader said, leaping up from his chair, and pulling out a tiny gun of his own.

“So Bitey, why’d you try to snap my head off?” The Cowboy asked.

The snake man stared at the barrels of the six-shooters, and he made a shocked expression, “How do you knowsss, my name?”

“What?”

“My name is Bade “Bitey” Rattles,” The snake man frowned.

“Seriously?” The Cowboy laughed. “Your… ha, name…”

“Um, Mr. Cowboy?” The Hippo bartender said.

“Yeah,” The Cowboy said, still chuckling.

“Before you laugh at the man’s name maybe you should take a look at your surroundings.”

This was when the Cowboy looked at the other patrons of the bar, from stool to purple stained stool, Hippo Pete’s tavern was filled with at least twenty snake men: copperheads, cottonmouths, more rattle snakes, and one big anaconda guy in the corner. All of whom were standing with their guns and knives drawn.

“You racist idiot,” Brader yelled. “I knew you would get us killed.”

“Hello,” the Cowboy smiled, holding his hands up in peace. “Any chance we could talk about this, maybe come to a peaceful conclusion?”

“Not s chancessss Cowboy,” Bitey Rattles laughed, a venomous laugh. He stood and slithered next to his compatriots. “Our bosssss told usss you had a hit out on him, you don’t hide your presence very well Cowboy.”

The Cowboy frowned, and said. “Does a storm hide its path?”

He then put both guns in their holsters and tips his hat. Brader kept pointing his gun from snake man to snake man eventually deciding to keep it on the big anaconda in the back with a shotgun. 

The Cowboy stood still. 

“What should we do?” Brader asked, his hands steady despite his shaky voice.

“That sssstupid hat won’t protect you,” Bitey said, with a hiss. “We’re gonna killsss you and your little friend toossss.”

“Don’t insult the sombrero,” The Cowboy gave the snake men a look that made each of them jump back.  Something about the Cowboy’s eyes, like a raging wind was behind them.

The Cowboy smiled, “Let’s twist.”

Instantly the Cowboy became a twister the size of his body, Hippo Pete fell behind the bars counter, Brader shot and clipped the Anaconda man in the shoulder, and then the snake men retaliated. The rattlesnakes shot at the Cowboy, but the wind of the twister just turned the bullets back into their elbows and tails. The cottonmouths and copperheads jumped fang wide or knives toward the Cowboy, only to either be whirled back at fellow snake men or hit by each others fist or foot in the gut. Then the giant Anaconda, not even bothered by his bullet wound ran at the twister, not getting pushed away by the wind slowly getting closer. Then the cowboy stopped drew both his guns and put three bullets in the Anaconda’s gut.

As the giant snake man continued to walk forward, but the bullets were still spinning inside him, like mini-twisters of their own and eventually he fell to the ground. The only people unharmed were the Cowboy, Brader, Hippo Pete, and Bade “Bitey” Rattles, whose eyes and jaw were wide open. The Cowboy sat on his stool and continued to sip his whiskey, as numerous snake men lay unconscious or dead around him.

“H…how d… did you?” Bitey stuttered.

“Any bounty out on these guys Brader?” The Cowboy asked.

Brader was still in shock, but when the Hippo bartender put a beer, to calm his nerves, on the counter, Brader came to his senses and took a swig. 

“I’ll get the paper work ready,” Brader said. “You got a radio I can call on, mister?”

“In the back,” Pete smiled wearily, pouring himself a beer. “The local MP’s will be here soon, I hit the silent alarm while you were—”

“Hey!” Bitey yelled. “I asked how you did that?”

The Cowboy turned around and smiled at Bitey, “Magic you idiot... At least I think it’s magic.”

Then Bitey ran out of Hippo Pete’s bar. The Cowboy explained to Brader that they will follow him to the big boss Simon “Cruel Shot” Kreg. Brader told Pete the Munchkin Police would pay for the bar’s repairs, but the bartender assured him that his insurance would cover it.

The Cowboy finished his glass and smiled, “Another.”

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