The Man with No Name is the title of the protagonist Clint Eastwood portrayed in Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy. Each version of the character bear three aliases; Blondie, Joe, and Manco. Although it's still debated whether or not all the three characters in the films are the same person, they do bear the iconic and indistinguishable traits of the Man with No Name such as his brown hat, poncho, quick-draw skills, and silent and stoic personality.
The Man with No Name is a mercenary and bounty hunter who took advantage of any situation he is in to make a buck. When he was young, the Man with No Name used to work as a ranch hand for a man named Carvell, who abused him before the Man ended up killing him in a duel. During the American Civil War, he took the name of Blondie and strikes a deal with an equally cunning Mexican Bandit named Tuco to make money and search for treasure. As Joe, he used the opportunity to trick two-warring families of a small town into destroying each other. And after taking the alias of Manco, he took on the job as a bounty hunter specializing in hunting down high-paying wanted men, before working with another bounty hunter named Colonel Mortimer to kill a ruthless gang who's been terrorizing the West.
- 1 Battle vs. Harry Callahan (by Killermoves)
- 2 Battle vs. Rooster Cogburn (1969 Film) (by Weew1213)
- 3 Battle vs. Lone Ranger (by Elgb333)
- 4 Battle vs. Django Freeman (by WinterSpider)
- 5 Battle vs Arthur Morgan (by Wassboss)
Battle vs. Harry Callahan (by Killermoves)
No battle written.
Battle vs. Rooster Cogburn (1969 Film) (by Weew1213)
Rooster wakes up from a loud noise.
“Hey! Keep it down out there!” Rooster yells as he bangs on the door.
He goes back to his seat, sits in it, and puts his hat on his face to go back to sleep.
“Shut it, old man!” A voice outside responds.
“Old?!” Rooster angrily asks and he storms to the door. “Why I aughtta-” He stops himself when he opens the door to see kids playing outside. “Alright, playtime’s over.” He says and the kids look at him and laugh. “Go on! Git!” He angrily gestures toward them and they don't move, they continue to play.
Rooster becomes frustrated. So, he takes out his revolver and fires it up in the air. The kids stopped playing, looked at him and like a deer in headlights, they froze.
“You heard me!” He angrily yelled. “Scram!” He commands, still with the gun pointed in the air.
They do just that and they run as fast as they can. Rooster huffs angrily and heads back to where he was, sleeping in a chair with his hat on his face. He then, falls asleep again. He wakes up to a knock at the door.
“If it's one of those d*mned kids again, I'm gonna-” he angrily thinks to himself but it is stopped when he sees Mattie. “Mattie. It's you!” Rooster smiles and hugs her. “It's been a good while, darlin’. How have you been?” He gladly asks.
“I heard about this guy who's gotta bounty on ‘im. He’s in the saloon. I hear he’s dangerous.” Mattie tells him. “Ok, I’ll get him.” He says as he hugs Mattie one last time.
“Why don’t you come with me?” He suggests.
Her eyes widen.
“No, no, no! You gotta go alone, I have- chores to do. Yeah, yeah, chores.” She quickly says as she hugs him.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later then.” He grins and kicks the side of the horse as he heads to town.
Mattie sighs and walks off.
Rooster rides on his horse and continues to do so until he gets to the town. Once does get to the down, he slows the horse down to a “walking” pace. He looks around the town for the saloon and sees a woman staring at him and he responds by tipping his hat to her. He continued to ride until he found the saloon. He then, steered the horse in the direction of the saloon and once he got there he stopped and slided off the saddle. He then tied his horse’s reins on the posts near the entrance there. He looks at the post and rubs the horse’s long snout. He pats it and heads inside. He goes through the saloon doors and unexpectedly the music and everyone continue their conversations.
Then, a man nudges his friend with his elbow and whispers: “Cogburn, what’s he doin’ here?”
His friend responds with “Yeah, what’s he doin’ here?”
Whispers then, began to become louder and louder and his name is constantly being repeated in whispers so loud that they overcome the music and he sits near a man with a poncho. Once he sits down, the whispers stop and the music becomes the dominant sound once again.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender asks.
“Whiskey.” Cogburn replies and he looks down at the counter.
He then, looks over at the man. He notices that the man has beard and a worn out cigar near his drink.
“What do you want?” The man asks Rooster.
“Just a drink. You can give a War vet that, right?” Rooster asks.
“That makes two of us.” The Man replies asks he takes a sip from his drink.
Rooster turns to him and asks: “What do you mean?”
“We’re both veterans of that war. Which side do you serve?”
“The Confederacy, you?”
“I can’t quite remember.” The man replies then pauses. “Why are you really here?”
“I hear there’s a bounty on someone’s head and he’s in this place and I want to find him.” Cogburn whispers.
“Really? You want me to help you find him?” The man asks.
“I don’t know. I ain’t splittin’ it with you if you want to work with me.” Rooster hesitates.
“Alright, deal.” The man replies and he shakes Cogburn’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.” The man gestures towards the doors.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Rooster agrees.
They both get out of their seats and walk out the doors. When they get outside,Rooster walks in front of the Man to get to his horse. They both come to a stop when they get to Rooster’s horse. Rooster then uses his bowie knife to cut the reins free.
While that is happening, the Man lights a cigarette and cocks his revolver. Which is now pointing at the back of Rooster’s head.
A smile grows on Rooster’s face.
“Alright.” Rooster says with a smile on his face and begins to turn around. “Let's ride and find this son of a-” Before he could finish his sentence, he sees the revolver pointed at his face. “That man you're looking for? I think I found him.” The man chuckles.
Rooster puts his hands up and grumbles.
“You know that little girl- what was her name?” The man pauses to think and he looks down at the ground to try and think of the name while holding the revolver up at Rooster. “Mary? Tabbie? Maggie? Mattie? Mattie! Sweet little girl. Anyway, she came into the bar, actin’ all tough. Claiming that you could take on anyone. So, I got up from my seat and took her out back and pulled this thing out.” He gestures when he says that. “Put up in ‘er face and with a little talkin’, she helped me bring you here because there was a bounty on your head.”
“Why?” Rooster asks him.
“You know Ned Pepper? He’s sick of failing to kill you so, he put a bounty on your head.” The man answers still with his pistol firmly pointing at his target’s face.
“No, why’d you use Mattie to get to me?” Rooster asks as he puts the bowie knife in hand behind his back slowly.
“Oh, she’ll seemed like she’d know you pretty well and I was right.” The man responds and Rooster had already flipped the knife over and has a great grip on it.
“You must be great at guessing because-” Rooster throws the knife at the man but he dodges it by angling his right shoulder to the left; and as that is happening the Man is putting his pistol in the holster and a second later after the knife gets stuck in the pole behind him, he grabs the bolo knife hanging off the right side of the Man and launches it at Rooster. Which Rooster jumps out of the way. They both look at each other and see that their horses with has their guns, are on the opposite sides of one another. They both run toward their horses and intentionally knock into each other where their shoulders collide, they are both knocked backwards and off their feet.
The Man sits up and scrambles to get up as fast as he can.
Rooster is a bit dazed and looks around and sees that his hunter is trying to find a weapon. He then flips over onto to his stomach and crawls over to his and picks himself up to the grab the Coach gun which is on the side that he is facing.
The Man keeps trying to get his Henry rifle and looks over to see his target getting the gun hanging off Rooster’s horse and then, scrambles to get his double barrel which he does and Rooster gets his Coach gun.
They both cock their shotguns and turn around; they then turn and see that the other has a shotgun as well but, neither of them fire a shot. They both seem to be waiting for someone to fire first. Rooster continues to aim his gun at the Man as he gets up and he keeps his shotgun pointed at his target. Rooster stands up and he is still looking at his opponent.
They then, both stop looking at one another and find cover. Rooster panting while behind cover with shotgun in hand.
“Godd*mn, I haven’t ran like this in years.” Rooster thinks to himself.
A crack breaks through the air and a piece of his cover that is to the top right of him, explodes and Rooster responds with a blast from his coach gun and fires the piece of cover his enemy is behind which is actually to the right of the Man. The Man gets up and fires back, blowing another piece of Rooster’s cover away and Rooster also blows another piece of the Man’s cover.
The Man throws away his shotgun and looks around to see any weapons. He then, looks down to see his custom revolver and he pulls it out of its holster. He stands up and turns to fire at Rooster. He runs and shoots at Rooster and his piece of cover to get his Henry rifle.
Little did the Man know, Rooster was already getting his winchester rifle.
They were too focused on getting themselves prepared to spare a thought that their enemy was doing the same.
Once the Man does get his Henry, he grabs his Sharps rifle as well and slings the weapon onto his back.
Rooster gets his winchester and gets on his horse and starts to ride away.
The Man hears that Rooster is trying to do that and turns around, Henry in hand, he raises the rifle and starts firing at his target. Each shot misses because he’s trying to shoot Rooster off the horse. He keeps firing until he is out of bullets with the Henry rifle.
“D*mn.” he mumbles due to the cigar in his mouth.
He drops the rifle and grabs his Sharps rifle. He raises it to aim at his target but, lowers it a bit when he sees that Rooster is turning around.
Still with his gun lowered, Rooster is now turned around and is firing at the Man with both his winchester and revolver; firing one at a time.
The Man holds his breath, bullets flying past his face and rifle, his aim is on Rooster himself but, brings it down to his horse and fires.
Rooster hears a shot and seconds later, he is launched forward, onto the ground, as the horse crumbles under him. He groans with and spits out some dirt. He looks up to see the Man walking towards him while loading another bullet into his rifle. Rooster began breathing slowly to regain his breath and tried to get up. He looked at the Man and saw that he was getting closer. He had finally gotten his breath back and pulls himself up where he is on his knees.
He looks over to see the Man but he doesn’t see him, he sees the barrel of a Sharps rifle. He looks up to see the Man holding it.
“If you were a man, we would duel this out.” Rooster says to him.
The Man looks at the clock, that’s in the middle of the town and he drops his Sharps rifle.
“The next time it strikes an hour, we fire.” he tells Rooster.
The Man begins to walk to his spot and pulls out his custom revolver. He then clicks a button that causes the cylinder to open up and he spins it. Then he jerks the revolver to the right and the cylinder clicks right back in. After that, he puts the revolver back in its holster and he stops where he is because he is in the spot he needs to be in.
Rooster just limps over to his position and waits for the bell to strike an hour.
They both look at each other, hands hovering over their pistols.
Rooster’s heart is beating so fast that it seems like a challenge to even take a breath that he has to gulp his air down.
Then, the bell strikes and as if time stopped, the Man spits out his cigar and while the cigar is dropping, he grabs his revolver. He then aims and fires it at Rooster’s heart.
As Rooster grips his revolver, he feels a very sharp pain in his heart. He looks down, falls to his knees and holds his heart. He begins to spit up blood and falls backwards. He looks up at the sky, life flashing before his eyes and blood in his mouth. The Man walks over to his target and lights another cigar.
He lifts the revolver and says “It’s just the job.”
Rooster looks at the barrel and the Man fires.
The Man had better weapons and was just the better warrior in this fight. Plus he was a lot younger and was quicker on the draw. He is the definite better warrior here.
Battle vs. Lone Ranger (by Elgb333)
It was near evening in a small town in Pleasant Valley, Arizona. The sun was finally sinking into the horizon, and the darkness was filling up the night sky. When the people started to feel the cold and darkness seeping in, they finally halted their activities and headed home for the night. The stores and establishments have closed their doors, and the lights from the lamps and hearths twinkle as the town went dark. Finally the place was in peace, the people rested comfortably in their homes. Hopefully, tomorrow will be another day for them to continue their tedious lives. But even as nighttime finally came, the people still kept vigilant for danger is always lurking to disturb the peace. Even as the decent folks settle in for the night, noise can still be heard radiating from the only place in town that never sleeps: the saloon. Every day and every night one can always hear the vaudeville music being played, the men cheering and jeering and the girls giggling in delight, and tonight was no different. It was a madhouse, a place only fit for the sinners and the like. Many of the decent townsfolk hated that saloon. It always stank of human hubris and was a frequent scene of violence and vice. But as the people gets ready for the night, they couldn’t do anything about the noisy saloon. It was a livelihood that keeps this town alive, and any Western town would never be complete without it.
While the saloon did its thing, a mysterious clapping of hooves was heard echoing throughout the streets. Some of the curious townsfolks peeked through their windows, wanting to know who’s crazy enough to still be loitering around at this time. However, the only thing they saw in the streets was a lone figure, still hidden in the dark and slowly trudging towards the noisy saloon. His horse and his hat was as white as snow gleaming in the naked dark. His face was hidden by darkness itself, but pinned down on his bright blue uniform was a shiny lone star; the badge of the Texas Ranger. Seeing this, the people peaking in their windows felt their nerves shaking intensely. They quietly backed away from their windows and turned off their lamps. They then tucked away their kids to beds and eagerly listened to what might happen next. They know that whenever law comes galloping around, especially towards a sinful place like the saloon, its deadly mix always results in violence, carnage and even death.
As the rider came closer to the saloon, some of the patrons inside finally started to notice him. At first the place didn’t mind the rider for they couldn’t make out who he was. But as he rested his horse and puts his foot on the saloon, the light coming from the place finally illuminated his face. As the Ranger went inside the building, his presence suddenly made the whole place silent. As the patrons finally see him in the flesh, they saw that this man, this Ranger, was wearing a mask…
The masked man looked at them with intent. A few of these people have heard the tales, followed the newspapers or have read the dime novels, and they knew who that man was. That mask, that uniform, those silver guns and that badge, tells them that this man was none other than the Lone Ranger himself.
The Lone Ranger didn’t mind the people looking at him curiously. His reputation alone was enough to paralyze them like cold graves so he had nothing to worry about. He nonetheless kept a serious face as he scans the whole establishment, as if he was eagerly looking, or hunting, for someone. Finally, with a loud deep voice that commanded authority, the Lone Ranger said, “Good evening gentlemen. I’m looking for a man named Edwin Tewksbury. I heard that he can be found in this place and I believe that he is right here among you. Can anyone please tell me which one of you is he?”
The nervous patrons quickly turned their heads towards a man seating in a bench in the corner. His head was buried on the table, taking small sips of his whiskey glass and paying no attention to whatever's happening at the moment. The Lone Ranger approaches the man he’s been looking for and asked, “Are you Edwin Tewksbury?”
The drunken man only looked up at him with his red weary eyes and smiled. He must be really drunk to be seeing a crazy masked man posing right in front of him like a bad dime novel story. ” Yeah that’s me. And who’re you supposed to be eh? Fuckin’ El Zorro?” He said with laughter. The Lone Ranger on the other hand, replied by flipping the table and grabbing Ed by his collar. “Hey what gives partner?” said the terrified Ed. The patrons, who were lively before, now cower silently in fear as a confrontation have begun.
“Edwin Tewksbury. You are under arrest for the murder of Tom Graham and his clan,” the Lone Ranger said while violently shaking the poor drunk. “Now, you can come with me peacefully or I’ll drag your carcass to the Marshall’s office myself.”
Another lone figure smoking a cigar and wearing a poncho arrived in the saloon. Tall and brandishing a menacing squint, he noticed the commotion that was happening before heading towards the bar. The Man sits himself and orders a glass of whiskey. Curious on what was happening, he asked the bartender with a deep swave voice, “What the hell are those two doing? They having a couple’s argument or somethin’?”
The nervous bartender quietly whispers to the Man, “Careful what you say fella. That man over there is the Lone Ranger.”
“Lone Ranger…” The Man thought. “So what’s this Lone Ranger doing here?”
The bartender looks at him with annoyance for his seemingly careless response. “You can see that for yourself, the Lone Ranger is trying to arrest this man by the name of Edwin Tewksbury, who’s some asshole guilty for murder.”
The name suddenly caught the attention of the now interested Man. “Did you say… Edwin Tewksbury? Sonuvabitch,” he said as he took a crumpled Wanted Poster from his pocket. The Wanted Poster had the name of Edwin Tewksbury, with a bounty of $500 dollars. The Man has been hunting this Edwin Tewksbury and he’s the reason why the Man is in Arizona right now. And it seemed that the Lone Ranger has beaten him to it. Pissed and cursing, he orders another glass of whiskey to celebrate his failure.
The Lone Ranger on the other hand was still busy beating the crap out of Ed. With a final and painful backslap, Edwin Tewksbury finally complied, “Okay okay. I’m coming with you. Please God… stop hitting me.” With those words, the Lone Ranger finally grabs a lasso from his belt and started tying the poor drunk with the rope. The Man with No Name was impressed on how efficient this Lone Ranger works. If it was anybody else, it would have ended up in a typical gunfight, but it was unique to see this Lone Ranger capture a suspect without even drawing an iron. As the Man watches and takes a sip of his whiskey, he thinks to himself, “He’s good alright. But what happens if he’s face to face with a gun?”
Soon enough as the Man thought of it, a group of four armed men barged into the saloon and aimed their weapons at the Lone Ranger. “You let go of him Ranger. Or we’re gonna fill this saloon with smoke!” said one of the armed men. Introducing themselves as friends of Edwin Tewksbury, the people inside dared not intervene or end up eating bullets for dinner. The people couldn’t believe that their precious peace was getting disrupted once again. Now the whole town will feel the burn of a blazing gunfight.
The Lone Ranger was unfazed by their incursion. He knocks out Ed Tewksbury and quickly rolls out towards a poker table for cover. The armed men retaliated by firing their pistols at him but missed, and the saloon patrons fled in panic at the ensuing gunfight. Lone Ranger took the opportunity to quickly draw his own silver revolver and opened fire. His silver bullets hit two of the armed men in their wrists, wounding them badly and putting them out of commission. As the two wounded men cried in pain, the remaining two scattered towards different directions. One tried to flank the Lone Ranger from the left, and the Lone Ranger manage to fire a bullet at him but missed, hitting the ceiling instead. As the man tried to shoot back at the Lone Ranger, a chandelier on the ceiling that was hit by the Lone Ranger’s bullet fell on his head and knocked him out.
The Lone Ranger tried to find where the other guy went, but he was only greeted by a pistol aimed at his back. The last remaining gunman cocks his pistol and smiles at the Lone Ranger. “I got you know you crazy sonuvabitch!”
But before he can pull the trigger, a shot rang out and a bullet hits him right in the sternum. Shocked at what just happened, the Lone Ranger tried to catch the mortally wounded man from hitting the floor. But it was too late as the man’s cold dead body fell on it with a loud thud. As the dead man’s eye stared blankly at the Lone Ranger, his anger took a hold of him and he looks around to see who made that murderous shot. It turns out that the Man wearing a poncho made that shot, and he twirls his pistol back to his holster before tipping his hat to the Ranger.
The Lone Ranger angrily stormed towards the Man and yelled, “What have you done?!!”
The Man with No Name can only look at him with confusion. He just saved his life but now he’s angry at him for doing so. Puffing a cigar and giving the Lone Ranger his trademark menacing squint, he only replied, “You're welcome,” before turning his back towards the door.
But the Lone Ranger stopped him by grabbing his vest and replied, “You’re not going anyway, and you’re going to pay for what you did.”
The Man tried to get the Lone Ranger’s hands off of him but they were grabbing too tight for him to shrug off. Pissed, he yelled, “Get your hands off me masked man. I just saved your life!”
“No!” The Lone Ranger said before kneeing the Man in the gut. “I didn’t need savin’ friend. Now the blood of that person flows in this saloon!”
As the Lone Ranger focused his rage on the Man, Edwin Tewksbury finally wakes up and quickly dashes towards the exit. Seeing his quarry escape, the Lone Ranger’s fury only intensified. “Now look at what you’ve done! He got away!” he said before pummeling the Man in the face. “Get off me!” the Man yelled as he punches back at the Lone Ranger, but his shots only bounced off the masked man's body. The Lone Ranger countered by giving The Man a big uppercut, sending the Man crashing headfirst into the bar table. The Man has never fought someone this tough before, and he knows that a fistfight ain’t gonna help him today. As the Lone Ranger grabs him by the collar, the Man managed to grab a machete lying on the bar’s floor and slashes at the Lone Ranger. The latter managed to back away, and seeing that the Man is now holding a blade, the Lone Ranger grabs his pistol to disarm him. But the Man quickly throws the machete at him before he can pull the trigger. And the blade hits the Lone Ranger in the cheek, drawing blood, and pissing him off even more. The Man then quickly gets behind the bar, draws his revolver and fires at the Lone Ranger.
The Lone Ranger sidesteps behind another poker table and fires back with his own silver pistols. The two were now stuck in an intense gunfight. The Man keeps peeking from the bar and pot shotting the Lone Ranger as much as he can. His bullets grazes and wounds the Lone Ranger throughout his body, while the Lone Ranger was still busy trying to find a clear shot to disarm him. This gave the Lone Ranger a tremendous disadvantage as he makes caution that his shots would only disarm, while the Man’s pistol slowly grazes him to death. Seeing his opponent the yellow-belly he is, the Man with No Name then let’s loose a well-aimed shot at the Lone Ranger. The bullet hits the Ranger in the spleen, making him bleed profusely with pain. Though down on the mat and bleeding to death, this only angered the Lone Ranger even more and he grabs his powerful rifle to retaliate. The Lone Ranger recklessly fires his rifle with adrenaline at the Man, and the rifle’s more powerful rounds punctured the Man’s cover and hits him twice in the shoulder. The splinters from the wrecked bar hits the Man in the face as well, and he blindly and yellingly tries to shoot back at the Lone Ranger. This gave the Lone Ranger he’s much needed opportunity, and finally shoots the Man in his hand, disabling him. The Man fell on the floor yelling and clutching his bleeding hand as the Lone Ranger continues his barrage of bullets. Broken glass and wood fell on the Man as the Lone Ranger’s bullets slowly thin out and crush his cover.
The Lone Ranger then ceases fire and starts carefully approaching the bar. As he slowly walks with caution, he yells, “Give it up gunfighter. Your hand’s already busted. You can’t shoot me anymore.”
But as the Lone Ranger peeks his rifle around the bar, he sees the Man smiling and holding a Henry rifle aimed directly at him. Panicking, the Lone Ranger let’s out a shot. Both fired their rifles at the same time, and the Lone Ranger gets hit in the leg and stumbles away, while the Man gets hit in the shoulder and falls back to the floor. They quickly stand back up and continue shooting at each other. Their shots flew wildly in the saloon, hitting every space there is. The Lone Ranger continues to fire at the bar, shattering glass after glass of flammable alcohol which started a small fire. The Man himself shot back, and some of his bullets hit the combustable lamps that started fire as well. As the two gunfighters shoot at each other, they unwittingly caused the saloon to go up in flames.
It was too late for the Lone Ranger to notice the fire creeping throughout the walls and the ceiling. The two gunfighters finally stopped shooting as smoke filled the saloon and flaming debris started to fall. The saloon has now turned into a blazing inferno, and the Lone Ranger quickly tries to find a way out. He limps towards the exit while holding his bleeding wounds, but a large flaming piece of the ceiling suddenly fell on top of him. Pinned down on the floor and feeling the fire burn at him, the Lone Ranger squirmed desperately to escape. The debris was too heavy, and he couldn’t even budge an inch. He tries and tries his best while the smoke finally started to fill his lungs. It seems hopeless, but the Lone Ranger tries again with all his strength to pull himself out. He finally succeeds in freeing himself, and he desperately tries to crawl away towards the exit with every might he got. He then rolls over towards the dusty streets, now outside that burning inferno. Though he was now safe, the Lone Ranger can still feel the flames searing at his back.
The Lone Ranger stands back up and painfully coughs away any remaining smoke in his lungs. His eyes were watering with pain but they gradually started to come back. And the first thing he saw as his eyesight got back… was the Man with No Name standing right in front of him. Burned and bruised, but nonetheless okay, the Man looks at him with burning hate.
Although badly wounded, the two gunfighters kept their hands on their other pistol. Now there was no bar or cover to separate the two, and it was time to finally end this showdown once and for all. “You feeling lucky… masked man?” the Man asked.
“Yes, and I agree. We’ve both made too much mess already,” the Lone Ranger said.
The two have finally decided to end this gunfight in an old-fashioned duel. Like all quick draw duels, the one with the fastest and most steady hand will prevail. And so the two men stared at each other and dared not to make any sudden moves. The pain from their burns still tingled throughout their bodies to the point of crippling them. But even though the burning pain was becoming immense, the two still kept a firm stance to each other.
The Lone Ranger takes a deep breath. Though his body was smoking like roasted beef ribs and his eyes watering like the Pecos, he collects all his remaining energy for one final draw. He thinks of his dead brother, his friend Tonto, all the girls he fell in love with over the years, and his faithful Silver. All of them will be his strength for this battle. For years he has fought for what is right. For a long time he has fought for justice and against bloodshed. For years he have survived worst scrapes than this. And for a long time he always carried this code with him probably till the day he dies.
The Lone Ranger twitches his fingers and slowly steadies his breathing, before finally saying, “I believe… that no man has the right to take another man’s life. It is a commandment written by God himself and no mortal man should ever, in any circumstance, violate it. And I have fought for life and justice. Even as I faced murderers, I fought them not by becoming like them, but by…”
However, his little speech was interrupted by a loud gunshot that echoed throughout the whole town. The Lone Ranger couldn’t believe what the hell just happened. He was smelling burned gunpowder but his hand hasn’t even reached his pistol. As he looked down, he finds that gunsmoke was coming from a small hole in his heart. He slowly looks up, blood coming from his chest and mouth, at the Man with No Name, who was looking at him like he didn’t give a fuck, but holding a revolver in his hands aimed at him.
“You know masked man,” the Man with No Name said as he twirls his pistol back to his holster. “There are two kinds of men in this world. Those who talks too much… and those who shuts them up. You talk too much…”
And then, the Lone Ranger’s body fell lifeless to the dusty ground below. His eyes staring at the sky as the sun has started to rise back up again. The Man with No Name sits at a horse post and rests. He breathes the fresh air as the morning breeze finally comes rolling. Although he captured his bounty, he was relieved to finally end the weirdest gunfight he had ever fought so far.
The Man with No Name won because he was willing to kill than the Lone Ranger. Both men were considered pretty equal in gunfight skills. But while the Lone Ranger had the better rifle and training x-factor, expert’s believed that his non-lethal methods would fail him. The Man not only had superior marksmanship, but he had no qualms on killing people unlike the Lone Ranger, which makes his job easier and more efficient.
Battle vs. Django Freeman (by WinterSpider)
Once upon a time in the old west, desperados and lawmen do battle against one another for control of the new America, in addition to the American Civil War. Runaway slaves take advantage of the situation brewing and make their escape to the north. One such previously freed slave is Django Freeman, a bounty hunter who took up the practice when he was freed by Dr. King Schultz and his horse Fritz *neighs*. However, as of late it is the middle of the American Civil War and Django has run afoul of the wrong people out west. Therfore a bounty has been placed on his head. One such man looking to cash in has no name but the ones he's been given in his occupation. The Man with no Name has taken notice of Django's wanted poster and talks it over with his gang. "Blondie, this could be a good opportunity for us," Blondie's right hand man Jacobs says to him. "Escape from Candieland, murder of plantation owners, and an accessory to run away slaves."
"Doesn't sound like our area of expertise." Blondie stated.
"What's the going rate?" Another of Blondie's gang members, Rico asks.
Jacobs tries reading the poster "It's...it's uhhh"
"Gimme the poster, you don't read good, Jacobs." A third member named Kent says as he grabs the poster from Jacobs. "The reward is $10,000 dead or alive."
"Come on Blondie we gotta do this job' Blondie's final gang member Kramer pleads. "Hey George," Kramer says to the bartender "You know where this %^&*$ been seen last?"
"That D-Jango fella? Sherrif says he got spotted in the Cheyenne territories with his wife and gang. But if you're really looking into this one, Blondie, I may have spotted some dark fellows uphill a ways." George answered.
"Blondie," Jacobs started, "Lets at least check it out. If he's there we could take him. Where else we gonna get a score like this? That partnership with that Tuco fella dried up like he did when you left him in the desert."
Blondie thought it over, recounting Tuco's luck ending, while admiring a black woman walking by. "Alright, we'll check this situation out. If it pans out then we'll see how it goes."
Django walks up to his four followers sitting on a hill. He had rescued them from Candieland, as well as from being taken to be worked to death in the Le Quint Dickey Mines. These men owed him their lives, and he knew it. The former slaves had seen fit to give themselves new names as well.
" 'Ey Django, where we gonna get work?" One of them, named Ford asked.
" Working on that," Django answered. " Broomhilda is seeing about getting us some more men at the town down below."
"What about Candieland?" Another named Jefferson asked. "When we gonna stop running?"
"He told you when white folks stop killing each other over us." The slave named Kane answered. "There's a war going on, and it ain't good."
The final follower, Lancelot spoke up after listening to everyone, "What about us needs more followers? Strength in numbers, yeah. But how we gonna feed everyone when no white folk in a hundred miles at least will sell food to a %^$&* in the middle of this damn war?"
"Let me handle that, Broomhilda and I always figure it out." Django replied.
Suddenly, a sound of horses rang through the air. Up rode five white men, the lead wearing a poncho.
"You Django?" the man asked. His blonde hair shining from under his hat.
"Who's asking?" Django replied, hand drifting towards his pistol.
"Keep that hand off that pistol, boy and we won't have trouble." Jacobs intervened with. "Just as I thought, boss. Five runaway %^%$# in the middle of the west."
"What did you say, white boy?" Lancelot angrily questioned.
"You heard him, darkie. He said %-" Kramer started before being shot through the throat by Django's pistol.
"Any one else want to try that?" Django asked before receiving an answer in the form of heavy return fire from Blondie's gang, cutting down Kane as the others ran over the hill.
Blondie immediately took off after the men on foot on his horse, only to find they had fled into the forrest where traveling by horse would be difficult.
"Go after them on foot," he yelled to his men. "Give me that dynamite, Jacobs" Blondie took the dynamite from Jacobs, lit it, and threw it into the forrest as he and his men took cover from the blast. The dynamite killed Ford and started a fire among the trees.
Django and his men were met by fire, and the sight of men coming towards them in the distance.
"Well what are you waiting for?" Django said in surprise, "start shooting"
Lancelot took aim with his Sharps and picked off Rico, shooting him square in the heart. Django motioned for him to follow him into a nearby cave as Jefferson took another route.
Jefferson, who had climbed a tree in order to get a better look at the situation creeped up behind the position of Blondie and his men. Pulling out his knife, he engaged in a knife fight with Kent.
"You had the drop on me, boy. Why not just end it there?" He asked puzzled.
"I like my prey scared when I kill them" Jefferson replied, a smile creeping on his face.
"I'll take him, Blondie, you two take the others" Kent called to Blondie as they moved up.
Taking cover behind trees as Django and Lancelot aimed at their position from their cave, Blondie looked at Jacobs:
"Cover me as I move up, and don't shoot me in the ass or it'll be yours."
"You know me, Blondie. Always on the lookout." Jacobs rolled over and returned fire with his lever action Henry, hitting Lancelot in his gut.
"Lancelot!" Django replied as he knelt down next to him as he forgot about the battle for a second. Too late he realized, as it left him open to an attack as Blondie rushed into the cave, kicked Django in the face and finished off Lancelot with a pistol shot to the face.
Back with the knife fight, things were wrapping up as Kent kicked Jefferson in the kneecap which brought him on the ground. He was about to deal the killing blow when Jefferson stabbed Kent in the groin. Kent yelled in pain, before Jefferson gutted him by slicing up to his neck.
Blondie was exiting the cave as he saw Jefferson sneaking up on Jacobs.
"Jacobs!" He yelled as he gunned down Jefferson. But to his surprise Jacobs also fell, his shirt stained by his own blood.
"Forget about me?" Django asked, his gun smoking.
Both men turned their guns on each other as they took in their surroundings, the fire coming up on the right side of the cave, creeping in. Both men sweating, they turned to each other and silently decided for the time being, a truce needed to be made to escape danger immediately. They ran off to escape the rapidly encroaching fire, but the fire was chasing them down. Eventually they settled on a plateau overlooking a canyon across a wooden bridge.
"What now?" Django asked, as he caught his breath.
"I take you in, collect the money." Blondie answers. "You've killed my men, but I can take you alive. A man of your talents can escape, I'm sure."
"Hell no, they'll throw me into slavery again." Django said, Blondie's eyebrow raising. "How about one final fight? Winner walks away, loser gets eaten by the buzzards. I'll even throw away my dynamite." Django tossed it onto the bridge, then shot it to get rid of it, as well as destroying the bridge, their only easy way back to the forrest.
"Here's the thing about that, I don't play fair." Blondie said as he raised his gun, and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on an empty chamber, signaling the gun was empty.
"Neither do I, snowflake." Django said after flinching, but his gun was never fired as Blondie knocked it out of his hand.
"We'll do it another way, " Blondie said as both men drew their bowie knives. Both circled the other, trying to decide when to strike. Django feinted a lunge, with Blondie attempting to block. This leads to an opening where Django punches Blondie in the throat, and throws him to the ground. Blondie gets up as Django leaps to grab his gun, where Blondie grabs the back of Django's belt and throws him to the ground. Blondie stomps on Django's face, bruising and bloodying his opponent. Blondie then walks over to Django's gun, and makes sure it's loaded.
"Damn," Django whispered "Broomhilda..." He said as Blondie brought his own gun to his chest. There was no remark from Blondie as he pulled the trigger.
Winner: The Man with No Name
A few days later, a figure in dark clothing appeared on a horse. Through his exhausted eyes, Blondie spotted the man.
"Well, looks like you're in a bind there." The man said to Blondie. "How long have you been over there?" He asked.
"I'd say about three days. Killed this fellow over here for the bounty."
"How much is he worth?" The mystery man asked, his head down.
"Ten thousand dollars." Blondie replied through chapped lips. "Dead or alive."
"Hmm, let me tell you what," The man started "You hand over that body and I'll help you across"
Blondie looked at Django's corpse, and thought it over. The man across the way was clearly in no hurry to leave.
"Fine, if you'll help me across." Blondie answered with disdain. "What do I call you?"
The man lifted his head up to reveal a tanned face, and a moustache under a pair of devilish eyes that betrayed his name.
"They call me Angel Eyes, and I always get my man. Even if I have to arrange his death by someone else's hands with young Django here."
Battle vs Arthur Morgan (by Wassboss)
It was a sunny spring morning when Arthur Morgan pushed through the doors to the Old Light Saloon. A few of the patrons look up from their drinks at the new arrival but most ignore him as he walks over to the bar. “What’ll it be fella?” the Bartender asks.
“I’ll have a whisky,” Arthur replies, sitting down on the stool furthest from the door. The bartender pours the drink out for him as Arthur slides over a fifty cent coin. As he takes the glass the doors swing open again as another patron walks in. Arthur pays him little attention as he walks up to the bar, beckoning over the bartender with his finger.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks.
“Not today. Have you heard the name Arthur Morgan round these parts?” Arthur stiffens as he hears his name but his face remains passive as he glances up from his drink. The man at the bar is taller than him, leaner too and his face is hard. He can feel the danger radiating off him but he gives none nothing away as he watches him.
“Can’t say that I have,” the bartender. “A lot of people come through here and not many care to give their names.” Arthur watches as the man reaches into his jacket and starts to pull out a crumpled up piece of paper, which he instantly recognises as a wanted poster. Arthur slowly moves his right hand to his revolver as the Man lays it out on the bar.
“In which case do you recognise this man?” he asks. Arthur notices the four-digit reward underneath his mugshot and makes his decision.
“Oh. Well fella he’s actually sat right…” the Bartender begins but before he can finish Arthur has already stood up from his seat, unholstering his revolver and thumbing back the hammer. An unnatural silence falls over the bar as the patrons look on in trepidation. “Woah there fella, let’s not do anything stupid now,” the Bartender says nervously.
“Just who the hell are you,” Arthur says ignoring the bartender’s statement.
“I could ask you the same question partner,” the Man says, seemingly unfazed by the gun levelled at his chest. “Not many men have four thousand dollars on their head.”
“What can I say, I’m a popular man,” Arthur says gruffly.
“I would like to point out the wanted poster says dead or alive,” the Man says. “So, you don’t have to die here.” Arthur laughs but it is bitter and lacking in warmth.
“That’s mighty confident talk for a man with a gun pointed at him,” he replies.
“Now that is true. Which would’ve been a problem. If that is, I’d come alone.” Arthur sees movement out of the corner of his eye and his gaze flickers over. With him momentarily distracted the Man ducks down suddenly with Arthur responding instinctively by firing. The Man rises, his own revolver drawn and it is Arthur’s turn to duck down behind the cover of the bar. He looks around, trying to see if there is anybody trying to shoot him but all the other patrons are flooding out of the bar, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.
Cursing himself for falling for such a simple trick, Arthur dives out from behind the bar to the cover of an overturned table, knocked over by somebody eager to get out. He hears the bullets whistling past him but luckily none of them connect as he puts the solid slab of wood between him and his opponent, the last bullet punching a hole through it just above his head. It becomes a race between the pair as to who can load their gun up first and Arthur is the one to win the contest, peering over the table and opening fire on the Man.
He abandons loading up the rest of the bullets, snapping the chamber back into place with a click and returning fire. Naturally he runs out of bullets first and Arthur presses this advantage, standing up fully so he can aim his shots better. The Man tries to duck down behind cover but a bullet snags his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Arthur strides over to him, pointing the barrel at his head and pulling the trigger only to hear the click of an empty chamber. “Just ain’t my day today is it,” he mutters as the Man gets back to his feet. Drawing his knife from his belt, Arthur advances on him. He goes for a stab but the Man grabs his arm, stopping the blade. Arthur responds with a punch to his face which sends him reeling and he stumbles through the saloon doors.
Arthur follows him out, ignoring the horrified looks of the locals. As he moves in the Man throws himself at him, grabbing onto him and trapping the knife to his body. He then drives several punches into Arthur’s stomach and he doubles over. The Man then wrestles the knife from his grip, jabbing at him wildly with it. Arthur shouts in pain as it pierces through his side, thankfully missing anything vital but nevertheless a painful experience. He headbutts the Man, feeling his nose crunch under the blow. The Man crashes to the ground and Arthur straddles him, punching him repeatedly in the head until he is dazed.
Satisfied he is out for the count, Arthur hobbles over to his horse and slides out Carbine. Cocking it back he turns back to where he left the Man, only to find that he has disappeared. Arthur looks around to see where he has gone but cannot see him anywhere. “Goddamn slippery bastard,” he says angrily. Deciding to cut his losses he mounts up, giving the reins a sharp tug to get the horse to go. As it starts to move, he keeps looking around for his opponent with his rifle clutched tightly in case he shows himself. As he reaches the outskirts of Van Horn Trading post, he starts to relax a bit, lowering his rifle and urging his horse into a canter.
As he turns the bend, obscuring his view of the town, a shot rings out and his horse bucks up in pain. Arthur is thrown painfully to the ground and the horse bolts. Looking up he sees the Man, mounted on his own horse, rifle in hand. He rushes for his rifle which has fallen nearby but before he can grab it, it is smashed to pieces by two shots from the Man’s rifle. Arthur sighs in defeat and looks up at his opponent. “Don’t suppose you could take me in alive?” he says sarcastically.
“Sorry partner, that offer is now rescinded,” the Man says, shooting him once through the heart, killing him stone dead.
When he died, Arthur Morgan always figured he would be spending eternity in brimstone and fire, being poked at by horned devils as punishment for his sins. And yet, as he watched the sun rising in the east, his body shutting down as his infliction finally claimed his life, he found himself not in hell. Or at least not the hell he’d been expecting. When he awoke and found himself lying in a hospital bed, he’d been confused to say the least. The doctor had told him that he was in some place called DFederal but everything after that had just sounded like a load of nonsense. Apparently, he had a house here and even though he’d never even heard of this city let alone been to it he felt as if he knew exactly where this said house was supposed to be.
So, caught up in his thoughts he almost doesn’t notice as a man steps out of the shadows in front of him. He barks something at him in a language he doesn’t understand and Arthur senses more men closing in around him. Glancing around he can see most of them are armed with tridents although several of them are also carrying nets as well. The man repeats the phase, thrusting out his hand aggressively and Arthur doesn’t need to understand him to know what he wants. “Now look fellas, I don’t have anything on me right now, I just got here,” he says, hoping that they at least understand him. The man looks at him angrily before drawing a knife and pressing it into his neck, repeating the phrase for the third time even more aggressively than the last.
“Hey! Leave that guy alone,” a voice calls out from behind. The men whirl around, looking at the stranger and start shouting something in their language. A gunshot rings out and the men jump back, scuttling back into the alleyways. The knife wielder too flees and Arthur rubs his neck in the place the steel blade was pressed against it.
“Thanks mister,” he says turning to thank his saviour and his mouth drops open in surprise at a man he knows well. “John?” he says.
“Arthur Morgan,” Marston says, just as surprised “I never figured I’d see you again.” Holstering his gun, he takes Arthur’s hand warmly, clapping him on the shoulder.
“I hope you managed to make a good life for yourself, Abigail and Jack.”
“I did, I did. Or well for a while at least. You know better than anyone a man can never truly escape his past. Speaking of past, you know Dutch, he’s in this place as well.”
“Really? Even in death I can’t escape him,” Arthur says. A thought strikes him and he frowns. “He hasn’t reeled you back in has he?”
“No. Not again, not this time. Not that he would need me anyway. There are plenty of angry young men in this city who need something to believe in. He’s even got them wearing these silly masks…” Arthur holds up his hand to stop him.
“You know what John; I don’t care what he’s doing anymore.”
“Fair enough. You know I was going out for a drink before I rang into you. Fancy joining me?”
“I’d like that,” Arthur says smiling. “What about that place,” he continues. John follows his gaze to the neon flashing sign which says ‘The Closet’.
“Uh. Well you see Arthur that isn’t a place for guys like us,” he says sheepishly. “It’s more Bill’s kind of place.” Arthur looks at him blankly until it sinks in what he is implying.
“Oh. Right. Well then wherever you suggest then,” he says chuckling. As the pair walk off a group of three men pass them, stopping outside the Closet.
“You sure this is the place you want Boss?” one of the men asks.
“We need a proper base of operations. I can’t keep conducting business out of your apartment. It sets the wrong idea, that we’re only small time. This’ll give people the right idea” comes the reply from the shortest of the group. Scratching the plaster on the back of his head, he pushes open the door to the bar, his two associates following closely behind.
Winner: The Man With No Name
The Man with No Name won this battle for a couple of reasons. He had the superior firearms for one, not by much granted but enough to give him an advantage. His skill with said firearms was the major reason for his victory however as he was undoubtedly the better gunslinger of the two. Arthur was no slouch in this department but the Man was simply faster on the draw and has showcased better aiming and tactical cunning.