HIGH NOON

The saloon grew quiet as the mechanical gunslinger made his way to the bar. A lone stranger sat drinking there, still calmly seated despite the commotion going on around him. The robot stopped a few feet from the occupied bar stool, and in a wheezy growl ordered the stranger to stand. The man quietly downed the contents of the shot glass in front of him, and pushed back from the bar. Most of the patrons had fled at this point. They knew what was going to happen next. The same thing that always happened when the steam powered gunslinging machines called some unlucky sucker out. A meeting with your maker, followed by a long dirt nap.