Tale

"Cain, wake up, you tired ass," a stern voice instructed the barely awake Cain.
The voice grabbed none of Cain's attention, deciding it was just an effect of the Tacenium in his veins. This changed, however, when he heard the sound of a shotgun being pumped, and a barrel being placed against his head.
"One move for your gun, and I blow your fucking brains out," the voice told Cain.
Cain sat up, hands in the air, and looked past the shotgun barrel at his captor. He was large and clad in a black, buttoned up trench coat. His face hid behind the shadow of a hood, but Cain could see his eyes, almost glowing in the shadow. They looked at Cain with a disappointed glare.
"They told me you were the kind of man to who could handle a contract, but to me you just look like a strung-out failure of a man," the hooded man said.
"You have a job?" Cain asked.
"Yeah but not a job for the likes of you. They told me you were fast as light, guess they were wrong," the hooded man answered.
Cain nodded and said, "They were,"
In a flash, Cain twirled around the shotgun barrel. It fired behind him, blasting now empty air with shot.
Cain grabbed his revolver off the table and brought straight in between the hooded man's shining eyes.
"I'm faster then light," Cain muttered.
The man smiled in the shadow of his hood.
"The job is yours," he told Cain.
Cain shook his head and said, "Who said I ever wanted it? I have ways of getting what I need, so there's nothing you can pay me with."
Cain began tightening his trigger finger.
"I can bring back Kierra," the hooded man said, smirking the entire time.
Cain's eyes widened. He pressed his revolver hard into the hooded man's forehead.
"How the fuck, do you know about her?" Cain said between gritted teeth.
"Well well, seems as if I've struck a nerve or two with this to-"
The hooded man didn't finish his sentence. Cain's revolver had fired at the man's foot, causing him to shriek in pain and crumble to the ground, writhing his hand around his now mangled foot.
"You, bastard!" the man exclaimed.
Cain went to one knee and stuck his gun on the man's throat.
"Tell me every detail of this job, or else you bleed out from the neck," Cain ordered.
The man's eyes now showed only fear.
"You are to kill a man, named Isaac Sykes," He answered
"Why must he die?" Cain interrogated.
"That's for you to find out. Please let me go Cain, I only wish to help," he begged.
Cain looked into the man's eyes with rage. Sweat was building in his hands and on his head. His teeth were clenched so tightly that veins were appearing all across his forehead. All he wanted to do was kill this man. He had infiltrated his home and brought back memories Cain desired so strongly to forget. All he wanted was to put a bullet in this man's neck and watch him bleed. He began tightening on the trigger, breathing heavier and heavier with each second.
"Fuck!" Cain screamed as he stood up, pulling his weapon away from the man.
The man continued laying on the floor. He rubbed his free hand up to his throat and rubbed where the revolver had been. Unbeknownst to Cain, he was smiling. He knew that Cain was the right man for the job.
"Where's Isaac at?" Cain said while leaning against a counter his head hung low.
The hooded man struggled to his feet and limped over to Cain.
"He's inside of Brisindale," he informed Cain, placing a folder next to him.
Cain turned to face him and shook his head.
"There's no way I can get in there. I don't have anywhere near enough supplies. They'd core my head before I'd even get a chance to fight," Cain informed the hooded man.
"Owensbank should be able to resupply you, for the right price," he replied.
Cain shook his head. He had nothing to trade. He would have to keep the small amounts of food, water and ammo that he had. That only left him with the few weapons he had salvaged, also all necessary.
He brought his gaze to the glowing eyes of the hooded man, but the gaze was not returned. His eyes was on something on the table.
Cain followed his eyes, and his sights were brought onto the nearly-full bottle of Tacenium.
Cain turned back to the hooded man. He now held a small piece of paper, detailing the information of the proposed deal.
"Think about it," the man muttered.
Cain took it, and signed along the dotted line.
The hooded man walked out, smiling all the way.

Fifteen minutes later, Cain had packed his bag with all the supplies he could carry, and was standing beside a gravestone just outside the house.
He knew it was empty. He knew that her body had been dug up by scavengers and left to be eaten by vultures and coyotes years ago. But the grave was never meant to hold her body, merely to hold the memories Cain had of her.
Cain said nothing. he merely gazed longingly at the stone. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything about her, as he felt like tearing himself to shreds each time thoughts of her filled his head.
Cain bent to his knees and kissed the top of the stone.
He then placed on his goggles, tightened his bandana around his mouth, and set off towards Owensbank.