The Colt revolver’s song echoed through the barren terrain as gun smoke mixed with heavy snowfall. Marshal Roland Chadwick holstered his firearm, grimaced, and spat, watching bloody saliva crystalize and disappear into the white earth. The image reminded him of a disfigured candy cane. After all, it was Christmas Eve.
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Before I give you my full report, let me clear something up: I really do have a trillion faces. Please don’t ask to see them or we’ll be here all night.
I’m aware I only show four faces on my website: one, me, Derek Organ, Private Investigator;
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A glowing array of dashboard lights illuminated the cockpit. Halpin summoned the viewscreen, swinging the decaying majesty of the dying star into sharp focus. Withered and blue, it shuddered in its death-throes, belching red rings of cosmic flame into the inky void.
“Hello at last.”
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