A pudgy bandit with thinning hair began gleefully jeering. "Is a cat! Look! Is a cat! I'm goan git it! I'm goan git it!"
He began jumping around joyfully as he clumsily reached for his gun, fumbling with it, and dropping it in the process of drawing it.

Marcus Hughes, or Bandit the Gunslinger, as he was known, looked up from his book, that mysterious piece of bound text that no-one knew about. He looked uninterested, and irritated. He snapped the book shut and placed it in his coat-pocket as he stood up and made long strides towards the pudgy, balding member of his own bandit gang.

As the pudgy bandit had raised his weapon and was typically taking his sweet time to aim the damn thing, Marcus grabbed his wrist and raised it harmlessly to the sky. The pudgy bandit looked over at Marcus, his face bearing a stupefied expression, right up until Marcus landed his left fist into the pudge on his face, knocking him to the ground.
"What have I told you? Huh? You kill men...and only men. No women, no kids...and you sure as hell don't shoot any goddamn animals!"
"So...sorry..Gunslinger...I didn mean it...honest."
Marcus extended his hand to the man, "Get up...your embarrassing me."
"You want to cause some havoc, wait until the night."

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