Aug 03, 2007 20:28
He's been walking since the train station. They tied him to the stagecoach and dragged him by the wrists, not caring when he falls and has to stumble to his feet, choking on dust and dirt and mud.
"Got another one of Tunstall's Regulators, open up the pit!"
"Don't need your tie now, you'll be wearing one of these soon enough."
The door opens on a scene that it hasn't opened onto in a long time. Lincoln County, New Mexico, in 1880. The sound of shouting and horses can be heard if you're close enough, the light blocked by something unseen, the flicker of torches. At first, nobody steps through.
Then, there's a shout and a thud, and with the rustle of straw, Doc comes flying into the bar. His wrists are shackled with irons and there's a noose around his neck, the end cut by the man who just wanted to tease him. He's covered in dirt and his arms feel like they're on fire, never mind the pain in his back from being dragged through town like a prize at the end of the string.
The door vanishes. Doc has his eyes closed, against the brightness in the Bar, and he's lying on the floor, moving a little, but he could use a hand up.
doc scurlock,
will scarlett,
hellboy,
richard sharpe