Corey put on the duster and mounted his white stallion “Quayzar”. The two othem were an unstoppable force. He raised Quayzar from a foal when Zenith, his mother, died giving birth, because of his unusually large size Before they rode out of the barn, Corey grabbed his grandfather’s 10

gauge shot-gun.

Corey and Quayzar headed for “THE EL MACHOS GRILL AND NIGHT DEATH”. this was an MS-13s hang-out. A night club filled with drugs, guns, illegal gambling, and loose women.

When they approached the sidewalk in front of the night club, Corey spotted Enrico Hernadez, one of the leaders of the MS-13s, he was blocking the entrance to the club. He was quite a large man and as ugly as a decomposed body full of magets. 

Enrico immediately created a loud piercing whistle announcing Corey’s arrival to his gang members. Around fifteen to twenty MS-13s emerged from the inside of the club. All of them started creaping toward Corey displaying guns in hands.

Corey Stetson started tingling from head to toe as the presence invaded his body and empowered him. Quayzar started tapping his right front hoof on the sidewalk and bobbed his head up and down, as if his was in charge mode with his large muscles tensing. A threatening voice blasted these words from Corey, but it was not of his own voice;

“All of you had better make peace with your maker, for every last one of you are about to meet him face to face. This is not a threat, it is a promise.”

As soon as these words were finished, the bullets went flying out of the guns in both of Corey’s hands. Neither him nor anyone in the MS-13s had a chance to react. One by one, in a flurry of motion, the gang members dropped dead on the street with no return fire administered toward Corey. The last one left was Enrico. Although he was still alive, both of his hands dangled by a thin piece of bloody flesh.

Corey struggled with his grandfather to regain possession of himself. Before he succeeded his grandfather spoke again, in a triumphant voice this time;

“Enrico, you will not die at this place in time, but you and the likes of your kind will never again be able to rule. The reincarnateds’ revenge of the old gunfighters will make sure of that all over America. You will become our example of victory, and many other gang leaders with also serve as our examples. This is not a threat, it is a promise.”

Corey had his grandfather’s 10 gauge shot-gun pointed right at Enrico’s head as this conversation took place. He now lowered the gun and spoke as himself;

“I should kill you as you stand there, but seeing you suffer will prove to be more enjoyment for me.”

As Corey and Quayzar turned to leave a final devastating blow was given to Enrico, Quayzar kicked him with his back left hoof right between the legs. Enrico doubled over and screeched loud enough to wake the dead as it echoed for a country block. Corey smiled as he watched Enrico rub his injured crouch with blood oozing between the figures.

The sheriff caught up with Corey and Quayzar as they were heading back home. It was Dirk Kincaid. He had been a friend of the Stetsons for many years. He followed Corey and Quayzar home. When they got there the first words out of his mouth was;

“Do you think this is 1848 Corey? The blood bath you left behind looked like the gun fight at the O. K. Corral only with more dead bodies.”

“No Dirk, this is not 1848, it is just 1848 justice.”