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The greasy truck stop had been long abandoned, even before the war, and the new people who owned it did not have enough pride to even try to restore it to its former glory. Remnants of days long past hung from the dirt encrusted walls. Posters from nearly ancient films bearing words like "Rocky", "Cliffhanger", and "Rambo."

The people who frequented the building now were not very different from the people who had seen its glory days. They were all dirty, tired, and not to be bothered with. They didn't have time to notice the two men sitting at the table near the door. All that the usual customers wanted was a place to spend their money and drown their problems in beer, among other things.

The two men at that table were an oddity for a place like this. One was wearing a clean and well preserved business suit, the coat draped across the back of the chair as if it belonged there. The other was wearing a long brown duster over a simple cloth shirt and a pair of riding chaps over his faded blue jeans. The suited man had a well groomed mustache and a grin that almost pointed towards arrogance that seemed to be permanently plastered onto his face. The man in the duster had rough stubble across his face and a neutral expression that didn't reveal any of his emotions. The two were a true contrast to the sour-faced, flannel-wearing patrons that the stop usually received.

It seemed that the two men knew each other, from the way that they had been talking. They had been in the same seats for more than an hour, drinking only the muddy coffee that the disgruntled waitress served them. Their conversation shifted from the weather, to their clothing, to the pistols that hung from their belts. It was not uncommon at that time for a man to carry a gun, as society had been severely rearranged after the war.

As the sun began to set behind the broken down truck stop, most of the dirty regulars had to leave. The few that remained were half-drunk and half-asleep. They were quickly shaken out of their stupor by the loud noise of a gun shot.
No one in that truck stop knew what had happened. All that they knew was that the two men had left that place. One left with the tail of his duster fluttering in the wind. The other on the floor covered by his blood stained dress coat.