—The Year 1894, The American Frontier also known as the Wild West.—

A deserted western town with its rundown buildings sported evidence of the recent shootout.

The air was arid with the hot sun shining from on high. Tumbleweeds rolled about, and currently, there was a deadpan silence besides the crunching of dirt beneath leather boots worn by a well-dressed man approaching a wounded fellow, who was down on his knees and down on his luck.

There were two uniformed men behind the wounded man and they held their guns to his head to ensure he stayed right where he was.

"Henry Morgan, 'The fastest Gun in the West'" the well-dressed man said and let out a disparaging laugh.

The wounded man raised his head with the best mocking smile he could muster despite his situation. Pain wracked through Henry's body with multiple bullet holes all over but he refused to appear weak. Even as he felt his life slipping away, he knew he couldn't give his enemy the satisfaction.

"Just listen to the awe in your voice, Agent Petey," Henry said with a weak chuckle, "I always knew you were a Fan."

"Of your abilities? Sure. But no ability, no matter how great, can ever allow you to escape the wide-reaching hands of the law." Said Petey while brushing dust off his impeccable coat with the smug expression of a man who finally caught his Prey.

"The times are changing and you, Mr. Morgan, are an Ember of a dying Era," Petey said as other uniformed men showed their faces now. All armed. 

They were the ones who had fired on Henry and had lost so many comrades in the process and now, along with the two behind the kneeling criminal, they awaited the order to either finish him off or take him in. They all hoped for the former.

*Cough* *Cough*

Henry spat out only a bit of the blood filling his lungs but it was enough to dye his lower lip and his chin, red.

Agent Petey cocked his head to the side,

"You don't have long, do you?"

"…"

"This was always your fate as an Outlaw. But not to worry. You'll live a bit longer so you can face trial and hang for your crimes."

"That'll take too long," Henry mumbled and with every strength he still had, he rose from his knees and reached out for Petey like a last-ditch attempt to make an impossible escape.

*Bang!*

One of the Uniformed officers, fearing for his Superior, fired his gun into the back of Henry's head, and even when he met an almost instant end, Henry smiled.

He had lived quite the eventful life, did much he was proud of and some that he wasn't but there was no way in hell that he would endure being humiliated. Successfully forcing a quick end was HIS win… Granted, it was a meaningless, painful, and sad win but it was a win nonetheless.

'Hmm, what's this?' Henry wondered because he could still see things even though he should have been dead.

He could see the chagrined look on the face of the trigger-happy officer and he could see the bitter expression Agent Petey had that his victory over the infamous Outlaw, 'The most feared Gunslinger of the Wild West', was marred by such an Anti-climactic end. He had not even been the one to pull the final trigger.

"Fuck!" Petey let out while stamping his Leather boot against the ground.

'Heh Heh,' Henry chuckled to himself as Darkness swarmed him and he finally, truly, died.

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•••

The time Henry spent in the darkness that shrouded him following his death was neither long nor short because he had no actual knowledge of the passage of time in any capacity. And then, as he tried to peer through the darkness for some outlook on what sort of afterlife awaited him, he suddenly felt himself lying on a bed and before long, voices started sounding around him. 

Strange, unrecognized voices.

"Is it worth it to even heal him?" Asked a gruff male voice.

"Yeah, might be better to just let the little prick bleed out. Haha." Agreed a feminine voice.

The laugh at the end of the sentence lacked any mirth at all and it was clear, that the woman Henry could not yet see was serious. As serious as the man she had agreed with.

"What an awful thing to say," said a third voice. Feminine like the second but no doubt kinder.

Henry felt his shirt being pulled up and, like a delayed response, he finally felt the wound that had already been discussed. It was no doubt a gunshot wound— Henry had had enough of those to recognize it. The bullet was small, from a pistol, and passed cleanly through him out the other side.

It stung but, having felt worse, Henry could endure. 

He heard the kind voice from earlier mumble a few strange words and then felt a warmth over the small wound as it began to stitch together.

'Well, I'll be…' Henry said in shock at what almost felt like instantaneous healing, 'Now, this I have to see.'

Henry did not know why he had remained silent and with his eyes closed so far but his curiosity quickly overrode whatever the reason was as his eyes snapped open to an incredible scene.

A very beautiful lady with auburn hair had her two hands above his midsection and there was a green light shining over it as the now tiny wound closed up completely. Whatever internal damage he had suffered was also mended along with the outward stitch.

"All done," the lady said with a relieved smile and a kind twinkle in her green eyes.

'Wow,' Henry thought looking at the sight of such a miracle, 'Is that… magic?'

"So you're awake now, you little Shit," said the annoyed man and his voice finally called Henry's attention to him to see that the word 'man' might not be entirely accurate. 

Dressed in what looked like a tank top that molded tightly to his bulging pecs and with short sleeves that showed off large biceps, the 'man' appeared imposing. And that was without the wicked smile on his face as well as the extra long canines thrusting out the corners of the bottom row of teeth and out of his mouth entirely. 

The 'man' was unlike any man Henry had ever seen. His skin had a strange thickness that made it seem almost leathery. A strange glint of perpetual malice in his brown eyes. 

"Huh?" Henry mumbled in confusion. He realized now that so far, these people had spoken like they knew him.

"What do you mean 'Huh'?" The large 'man' asked, "Just imagine this nonsense. Imagine having to save your pathetic sorry excuse of a life because of a mistake YOU made!"

"Devon—!" snapped the lady who had just healed Henry.

"Stay out of it, Yelena," said the third person in the room; The lady Henry remembered had sounded as annoyed with him as Devon, the large 'man'.

"Dana, he was just injured—" Yelena started.

"And so what?" Dana asked angrily, "You already patched him up, didn't ya?"

Dana spoke while staring at Henry with a smirk. Her eyes were narrowed in mockery and her black hair, stopping at her neck, bobbed a bit following her last head movement. In looks, she wasn't bad looking and Henry might have even considered her sleek skin-tight dressing sexy had she not been staring him down so viciously.

Devon stepped forward and 'gently' pushed Yelena aside while grabbing fistfuls of Henry's shirt to pull him up to his feet.

Henry's eyes were fixated on those extra-long canines and how they seemed so monster-like. 

"This bastard needs to be taught a lesson," Devon said and let out a wicked chuckle, "And if I happen to break him, sweet Yelena can just put him back together again."

"Taught a lesson?" Henry asked while grabbing Devon's wrists, a part of his mind taking note that his hands seemed smaller than he remembered, "Taught a lesson for what?"

He didn't get a response but as he was getting dragged out of the room by Devon's superior strength, Henry managed to catch his reflection in the mirror;

Dark brown hair, deep-set black eyes. A face that could be considered cute and had not yet gone through decades of gun-toting hardships. Henry recognized that face. 

It was him but it wasn't the 'him' of his prime who had tragically lost his life to an Agent of the Law, Rather, he was him as he had been Thirty years before that.

It was him as a 19-year-old boy!