A figure stood beneath the sands. Under a blistering sun the Thing walked endless miles, nothing but a raggidy old cloack in his name. It soon found a saloon a couple of miles West. Inside a couple men and women pointed thier guns throught its head, it was a trap.
Guns blazing out of control. The smell of lead and gunpowder is in the air. Many bullet holes covered the saloon all them except It, layed on the ground covered in blood. The thing barely have a scrath, he sat at the table and orderd a drink. The barkeep proceeded to walk and attend to the thing.
"What would you like to order sir" The barkeep asked politly.
"I want... your blood" The Thing choked the barkeep breaking his neck. Ripping out its stomach and hoist the man up as the blood drips to the to the Thing and opened its chest. This thing is not a human nor a living creature it was a machine a robot as the blood drips downs it cools the Things inner componets and acting as a lubricant. It then dissapered leaving traces of blood behind.