[Spoken Word] Beneath the pale moon light, the two men exchanged a storm of gunfire, their hands like lightning, though only one whose aim was true. The Marshal was no match for the hellfire in the Phantom's holster, and as the light began to fade from Carter's eyes, a blood-soaked tear streamed across his cheek. He fought for breath and looked up to the Phantom. "I hope you find your rest" he sputtered before he went still. The Phantom lowered the old ivory-handled colt. Though satisfied for justice delivered at long last, the fire in his chest did not subside. Why was he still here? he wondered. As the agony of his existence persisted. He fell to his knees and cried out his anguish, begging the beyond to send him peace. As he sobbed into the sand, a gentle voice arrived on the wind...
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