Meteor Reins
27th of October
" Only The Unfortunate Witness "
Light pierces the window into a close dust filled pod hitting one side of the blade being sharpened to no end, each sweep of the grit fine tuning the utility of a tool forged decades prior. The effort and focus to improve such quality only has one purpose which is to pass time as the last glimpses of daylight can be tracked with the growing shadow looming in the small confined space. Though the sun falls the heat proves resilient, after four sweeps Hector tilts his head towards the ceiling slowly exhaling allowing himself to lean back onto the wall with his legs bent almost ninety degrees slouched on a small rusty stool. Wiping the moisture from his forehead his gaze wanders beyond the pod he sits in, stalking the tree’s, plants and rocks for predatory behavior, any sign of life is a threat justifying the last two hours sweeping and refining one of many weapons.
Though the sun falls the heat proves resilient, after four sweeps Hector tilts his head towards the ceiling slowly exhaling allowing himself to lean back onto the wall with his legs bent almost ninety degrees slouched on a small rusty stool. Wiping the moisture from his forehead his gaze wanders beyond the pod he sits in, stalking the tree’s, plants and rocks for predatory behavior, any sign of life is a threat justifying the last two hours sweeping and refining one of many weapons.
Seeing no outside movement there appears to be no cause for concern, but Hector remains still slowing his breaths and scanning the dense jungle with scattered debris embedded within a twenty meter radius, all originating from an emergency crash landing. Twelve hours have passed since Hector’s black shirt and jacket appeared ironed and dry with a soft scent of blackberry cologne, at present it has been stained and ripped at the seams with a mix of sweat and gasoline from the small pods leaking engine spread throughout the front and back of the shirt. Hector’s cowboy hat and boots remain in relatively good condition, a testament to Hector’s luck considering the flattened tree line and lack of biodiversity left behind in the wake of the crash.
Hector, otherwise known as “meteor rein” to the criminal underworld is recognized not only for the historical homage to the time period his clothing represents back on Earth, but also for the uncharacteristically large Colt Paterson revolver holstered on his right hip. Stories told of Hector's assassinations are spoken throughout galaxies, ranging from arms dealers back on Earth to politicians within the diplomatic council of planetary trade. It is said that only the unfortunate witness the revolver in action as it is the last thing they ever see.
With a dense fog falling over the surrounding foliage Hectors remains silent and still listening for movement outside in the midst of the jungle like terrain. Moving the blade to his prosthetic hand consisting of mechanical components leading up to his shoulder, Hector slowly changes the position of his other hand, hovering over the holster waiting for justification to grip, pull and squeeze. A grin slowly emerges on the weathered face, spotting a rustle in amongst a bush painted purple with large feather-like leaves detailed with a white venation pattern on each leaf. Hector slowly climbs up the smaller ladder within the pod to an already opened hatch, with a gentle push open and slight creek, Hector's head and torso emerges from the pod.
With light dying and patience running thin, Hector stalks the bush for one last reason to reach into his holster. His heart pounds with excitement, eyes widened as his pupils dilate, Hector's controlled breathing ends with one final deep breath to be held after glancing down upon his black shirt to find a small red beam moving up curiously towards the neck originating out of the purple bush.
Hector's grin dies off with a sudden look up, the sound of metal and leather fills the air followed by two shots. An unfortunate young man.