Are those…black angel wings?

"Tino Väinämöinen, the legendary marksman whose keen eyes put all birds of prey to shame…"

Is this…the devil?

"They say you once sat at the top of the tallest of the Rocky Mountains and killed a man in the valley below with a single shot. They say there's no place an enemy of the people can hide from you, that you will find them, wherever they are, and destroy them."

Is this another attempt by some criminal organization to recruit me into working for them? That's the third time this week! Geez, what makes them think I would do something like that?

"Well, Mr. Väinämöinen, I think there is a place where a criminal could hide from you."

"Ya do?" Tino replied, too dehydrated to think through what exactly he was saying.

"Yes," a claw-like finger poked Tino in the chest "I think it can hide from you right here."

"In my shirt pocket?" Tino asked absently while the night sky started to come ablaze with a lime green glow "Oh shoot! Ya meant my own heart didn't ya? Wait! No, I don't want to be possessed by an evil spirit. No please, no-NO!"

The coyotes howled and the moon dimmed in a show of empathy for the screaming man's pain. But beyond mourning alongside Tino, there was nothing they could do. There were no good spirits or powers of nature that would be able to aid him.

…But there was one human being who could.

…

Like red flowers throwing open their petals, fountains of blood and brain matter blossomed across the dry, dusty road as the sniper on the town bank's roof picked off the townsfolk one by one with a shot to the head.

Now that's talent, Head Deputy Berwald Oxenstierna noted as he climbed up a ladder in the back of the building. Too bad it's being used for th' wrong purpose.

"Holy Mercy! That crazy nut just killed Sheriff Kohler!" someone shouted from down below.

'lright, I can understand wanting t' do that, Berwald empathized as he pulled himself up onto the roof But th' twenty or so townsfolk? Sorry Partner, yer going t' be takin' a trip t' th' gallows soon.

Head Deputy Oxenstierna pulled his volcanic from his holster and shot the Winchester right out of the shooter's grasp. The shooter squeaked and by the time he turned around to gawk at Berwald with a face of awe and horror, the deputy was standing over him with a gun aimed at the man's head.

"Raise yer hands t' the sky," Deputy Oxenstierna grunted as he stared down at the shooter with a merciless scowl.

Then, Berwald noticed something mighty strange. The shooter's eyes were glowing bright neon green.

Ya got th' devil in ya or somethin' Son? Berwald wondered as the shooter sat there, kind of twitching and shaking his head every now and then.

Then the green glow flickered out of the shooter's eyes, revealing brown irises with a doe-like innocent shine to them. Berwald noticed that, beneath the patchy peach fuzz on his chin, the shooter had a soft-edged, sweet round face.

Nh, kinda a cute little feller. Berwald's finger eased off the Volcanic's trigger just a smidgen. Just give him a shave 'nd a bath 'nd ya would nearly be convinced that he's a wide-eyed little angel.

"AIHH!" the shooter shrieked suddenly before latching onto the deputy's leg. "Please! Help me! I'll do whatever ya want, just help me please! Help me escape from it, it's just the worst. It's so mean and cruel and stupid..."

The blood spilled on the dusty ground below was starting to turn sticky and dry as the cries of more frightened women and children filled the parching desert air. Head Deputy Oxenstierna was known by all to be an ice-cold administer of justice. He was never unfair or cruel, but he had no pity (or any emotion, from what they could tell). He never hesitated to bring the full force of the law down on anyone who made victims out of innocent, honest folk. It'd been rumored that Berwald had scowled so fiercely at a criminal who had just run past the line of the lawman's jurisdiction that the scoundrel had burst into flames. The townspeople feared the head deputy more than they feared most violent criminals.

So nobody, not even Berwald himself, knew exactly what was going through the head deputy's mind as he knelt down beside the scared shooter and tenderly patted him on the head.

" 'lright, 'll do m' best," was the head deputy's reply to the man's frantic plea. For the briefest of minutes some stray strand of cloud covered up the scorching desert sun, shielding the pair of them from the near-blinding light while it passed through the sky.