The Hateful Eight: Amarillo

This post is part of the series Hateful Eight

Other posts in this series:

  1. The Hateful Eight: Big Iron
  2. The Hateful Eight: El Paso
  3. The Hateful Eight: Cool Water

A new team has emerged…eight strangers, brought together under a single purpose – a purpose known only to them. Their stories are as varied as their methods. Those that don’t know them won’t like them, and those that do sometimes won’t know how to take them. They aren’t wrong, just different, but their pride won’t let them do things to make you think they are right. These are their tales…some of them…

Amarillo by morning. Surely I can make it by then.

Everything that I own is on my back, it’s not much – my uniform and some broken armor – but it’s mine. The trek from San Antone is a short one, not that it matters much; I’ve no where else to be.

My thoughts and dreams fill my head as I walk. Running down the pitch at the county fair, the blazing sun shinning on the crowd as they cheer.

Amarillo by morning. Amarillo, I’ll be there.

The road that got me here was been tough. They took my title in Houston, suffered from a broken leg in Santa Fe. Lost my wife, and my girlfriend somewhere between here and there. Not that I had time for them anyway, it’s probably for the best.

I know i’ll be looking forward to the game, and I hope the refs is blind.

Amarillo by morning…not a dime in my pocket, nothing to spare. Poor as a flea on a dog, but free as a eagle soaring on the wind.

Amarillo. It’s morning…

I’m here.

The Hateful Eight are a Brettonian team inspired by classic western songs. Each player embodies the song they are named after, their backstory is the same as their namesake song.


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