"Must think yer something real special, huh?"
The drunk hassled the tall man, who was sitting alone at the back of the saloon.
"All those kill notches—who are you fooling?" He laughed.
Leaning in close, he whispered to him, "I bet you never even murdered a single man."
The tall man leaned back before replying.
"About ten myself, actually."
"Ah, I see the problem! You can't count to save your life!" He coughed, pointing at the man's rifle, which was covered in many more notches than ten.
"Well, let's hope you're a fast learner." The drunk said, pulling a revolver on the man.
"You've got fifteen seconds to walk your ass out that door."
The tall man smiled, unsheathing a knife decorated with scars and placing it on the table.
"This one is Egypt." He explained, resting a nail on a notch on the blade.
"Ten seconds, motherfucker!"
"This one is Babylon." He pointed to another notch.
"Seven seconds; best get moving!" The drunk barked.
"And this one is Rome." He spoke, gently picking up the knife and examining it.
The drunk leapt forward, poking the revolver under the man's chin.
"Time's up!" He smiled, pulling the trigger.
The patrons looked on in awe as a flash burst from the barrel of the drunk's gun. A large bullet hole grew in the back of his own head, and his body slumped to the ground.
The tall man remained seated and still
"Fuck you!" Someone yelled, firing at the tall man but instead hitting a customer at the table beside him.
The tall man counted to himself. In less than fifteen seconds, the entire saloon erupted into blood and smoke.
Less than five minutes later, the entire town was ablaze.
When all was said and done, the man took a seat on the blood-soaked porch and withdrew his knife again.
Observing the ocean of ash and bodies, he scorched another notch into the blade with his jagged nail.
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