They walked for five hours until the Flarers found them. Well, it was just a scout. But it had seen them and would alert main force of where they were. Crosby shot him before he got twenty meters.

They walked up to the dead rider, the horse grazed a few meters away. "They'll still know were here. When he doesn't return they'll notice." Jordan says.

"That's why we need to make haste. Grab the horse, we can ride double on it and still make good time."

"You think it could make it before it collapses?"

"We'll have to hope this ones strong."

The horse looked at us as if he knew we were talking about him. He whinnied. 

Jordan walked over and pulled himself up onto the horses saddle, he patted  the big horses side, "He's a strong one, I can feel it."

Crosby walked over and pulled himself up besides Jordan, the horse whinnied his protests, but reluctantly started to trot. Hours passed as they traveled by horseback, the day was mostly uneventful. The most interesting thing Jordan saw was a few deer in the distance. It gave him time to think.

He still didn't know why he had to find Margery, all he had for a lead was a note tucked in his back pocket, one that he had found on his door two weeks ago. No name, just ten words.

 Find Margerie, she has something for you. Something you need.

After doing a bit of research, he had found out who this Margerie person is. She was a Gastronian outlaw who came here for an illegal trade with some thugs. The trade went wrong when the Flarers showed up, apparently she's in no rush to get back to Gastro, she now had a small gang that went around with her, sabotaging the government and blowing up anything they could get their hands on.

So far Crosby and Jordan had been following the explosions. They would come to each newest crime seen, hoping to find her or a clue to where she was. Until four days ago, when he received another note, on the inside of the door, of the room he was sleeping in. 

The Flarers are on to me, i'm going into hiding until the storm blows off, come find me. I have valuable information for you.

Valuable information, there was only one thing it could be. Your parents. A voice whispered in the back of his mind. Ah, his parents, the only thing he didn't have that couldn't be stolen. His parents... Almost just thinking about them gave him flash backs of their deaths. Being murdered right in front of him, killed by Flarers. They didn't tell him why, or sorry. They just left the house, leaving Jordan in tears with the two dead bodies. That's why he hated the Flarers. Why he broke the law.

Ever since he'd been looking for who killed them, why? When he had found one of the Flarers commanding officers that had ordered the attack, he had given no mercy. He killed him. But still he didn't know why his parents were killed, why they were murdered by the Flarers. That was ten years ago, he was seven. The ten years had hardened him, he had killed, had stolen, he had grown up on the streets to fend for himself, risking his neck for each dollar he could steal.

He shook himself back into the present, he couldn't let that weigh him down. He needed to get past the fact they were gone. Crosby had helped when he came into Jordans life, with similar problems to him. Almost similar, almost. Crosby had a lot more to kill for than he did.

He looked out into the distance trying to distract himself from their miserable pasts. Well- they were still miserable, but better out than before. They had guns, food, water, money; everything your average wanted 'dead or alive' guy would have. They were set, of course not after the horse got shot and we flew into the sand. Yeah, that part sucked.

Jordan spat sand out of his mouth, "What the?!"

Crosby pulled out his swape and looked around, there weren't many places to hide in the grassy plane, yet no one was in sight. Jordan walked over to the horse which was on the ground breathing rapidly. The wound was easy to see, a bullet had pierced its right thigh, Jordan pulled out a pistol and shot it in the head, putting it out of its misery.

"GET DOWN!" He heard Crosby scream and without hesitation drop to the soft grass floor.

I hear a bullet whizz over my head, just where Jordan was a second ago. Crosby returns fire, at a clump of trees where their attacker was hiding. A few more bullets were shot, then silence. Crosby kept his gun trained on the trees. But we soon heard the sound of galloping horses. Heading away from the clump of trees.

"Who the hell was that? A flarer?" Jordan asked bewildered at the chain of events.

"No, must be a mercenary, there are tons out there hunting you, wanting the bounty on your head."

He smiled, ahhh his bounty, every time he saw a wanted 'Dead or Alive' poster he couldn't help but smile, "how much am I? It's constantly changing," said Jordan.

Crosby thought for a second, "last I remember it was twelve million."

Jordan whistled, "now thats a lot of money, I would consider turning myself in for that jack pot, but I won't."

"Why not?"

"Cause I'm not stupid."

"Come on Jordan, focus. What are we going to do now?"

"How should I know? It's not like I'm smart or anything!"

Crosby sighed, "I guess we'll camp for the night, it's getting pretty late anyways, and I need to hit the sack."

"Jordan groaned, does that mean I have to take first watch?"

"Deal with it."

Grumbling Jordan walked over to the dead horse and pulled off his and Crosbys backpacks. He tossed them both to Crosby and while he set up camp, Jordan went to the cluster of trees where they were being shot at. He arrived and sat down, he made himself comfortable and tried to think of anything but sleep. The trees would provide good cover, and he could easily see if anyone was approaching in all directions. 

He sat there for a few hours, keeping his eyes roaming the hills. But nothing was there, he finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

***

He woke at 5:00 to hand over watch to Crosby, there wasn't much that had happened that night...

Probably because he had slept through it.

He walked over to the camp Crosby had set up, glad that he had woken up on time to give watch to Crosby. He reached the camp hearing only the quiet breaths of Crosby who lay sleeping in a tent. His mouth tasted metallic and he felt in need of a drink, so he went to grab some water before he woke Crosby up.

He walked over to his backpack and pulled out a bottle water, he un screwed the cap and let the cold water flow into his mouth, it tasted strange, nothing to bad, it was nearly passable as a bad taste in your mouth. But it put Jordan on an edge...

He spat it onto the ground as soon as he realized what had happened to his water, and what he was drinking.

Someone had poisoned his water. Someone had tried to kill them tonight.