Que chinga-

𝘛𝘩𝘦
𝐒.𝐏.𝐋.𝐄.𝐍.𝐃.𝐎.𝐑
𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺

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𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘐𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄

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𝐒𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝐏𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝐋𝘦𝘨𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝐄𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝐍𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝐃𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 & 𝐎𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝐑𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩

❝ 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 — 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 .ᐟ ❞

You know what Tijuana is?

Oooh shit, there's a great one at the saloon turnin' left by Maldonado, near Tijuana.

"Until you hear two clicks. Don't aim that at nothin' you ain't willing to hurt."

He points forward.

"Don't lock yer' arms. It kicks more than you think."

"Yup. Ya put one of these in one o' the spinning chambers."

He offers a bullet, indicating how to open the drum.

"Put it right before the hammer, cock it back, aim it and pull the trigger."

My mum was a sniper in the revolutionary army. She *never* missed my head.

"Huh.

Where I come from we ain't got much more use for swords. Glad you live in a time where armor does shit, man."

He draws the schofield under his armpit, snapping it open to snatch it's bullets from the air before slamming it shut. And handing it over.

"These 'been makin' short work of most."

If he was anything like mine, those were real shells man-

"Like one a'those in kids' parks?"

The tiny Mexican gunslinger, of undead look and mummified skin, seems weirdly comfortable around the knight. Odd recognizes odd.

He's confusing a merry-go-round here.

Yeah. Cops used 'em before rubber shells. I've taken a liking to the fuckers.

"You're pardoned, man, it's cool.

Bet you are. Saving any princesses?"

You know what a saltrock shell is-

@theelmtree.bsky.social

Christ. Making me feel older yet with the knight getup.

I know a better one.

...

Sitting right there with her. Offering a cigarette.

Shit, yeah, you're the one followin' em.

Yo, italian spider lady, who these dudes with guns.

A head tears from it's shoulders, under the impact of a hatchet.

A target stops moving.

//Makes me miss my Carlos vuv

//op. People are finishing requiem and the first resi accounts are popping up.

Handing the reader a bunch of throwing knives

"Don't do nothing to me, sadly."

He smirks, swinging a finger over his absent nose.

" 'sides. Best no to rely on those. Ya end up clumsy."

He's smacked a wet cloth on the line. No.

"Shit's gonna melt your brain off, tontita."

What the fu-

"Aren't you itali- you shoulda' half cau-

Oh. High. Right.

No mijita no."

¡¿Ya deje eso, está re caro, pendeja?!

OIGA