The Man Who Just Can't Die

For all intents and purposes, Joshua Graham shouldn't have been alive.

But when you first entered Zion and made your way to the Dead Horses camp, the burned man clearly wasn't dead.

When you first got the assignment to assassinate a dead man, you thought it was some sick joke, but after following it up, you found whoever had given you this mission was deadly serious.

So you thought this must have been some madman who didn't know what he was talking about, and as long as you went to the place specified and said that the job was done, then you'd get paid.

Now you knew that it wasn't going to be that easy.

Spending all his time in a cave and usually being surrounded by tribals who were also sprawled over the encampment, sniping the man was put of the question.

For weeks you studied the Dead Horse, their rituals, the routines, their daily lives. You needed to find a flaw in their methods, a weakness you could exploit.

Which meant inevitably prolonging your stay in Zion for much longer than anticipated.

There were a few times when you'd been scouting out the cave when it was mostly vacant and someone had mover to a dangerous position or tribals flooded the place.

Those times you spent hours in the same position waiting for whoever it was to go away. During these times all you could do was watch. It was a useful time for spotting vulnerable points but it was also when you got to see the most of Joshua, who never left his cave.

Most of the time he would spend hours loading ammo into guns, you didn't know where he managed to find so many of the same type of gun or ammo but clearly he must've scoured the wasteland for them since it was a mighty fine collection.

He put so much care into his guns, if not loading them then he was thoroughly cleaning them. You supposed that a man wrapped so tightly in bandages wouldn't be very capable when it came to close combat, the guns were his last line of defense, his last lifeline.

So that was how you were going to kill him. Up close and personal. You'd use a knife, but if something happened to that knife it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say you could easily strangle him to death.

Once or twice you'd been lucky enough - well, you wouldn't call it lucky, you wouldn't wish the same sight on your worst enemy - to witness the burned man in his full glory.

You watched as he removed his bandages, watched the pain that never quite left his eyes once it was over. You watched him bite down on his belt to stop himself from screaming and notifying every tribal in Zion of his position.

His hands shook as he rubbed some sort of ointment over himself and even though you were going to be the reason behind this man's demise, all you wanted to do was help him, despite how hid ghastly appearance made you feel like throwing up your breakfast.

Yet at the same time, you couldn't help but feel like this was a job meant only for him, and seeing him like this was a privilege - or a curse, since you'd never be able to get the sight of him out of your head ever again, he would haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

You supposed that was how the burned man would live on, even after death.

One thing though, that stood above all else, was respect and admiration for this man who'd suffered for so long and continued to live.

This man who devoted his life to protecting these tribals and leading them out of harms way.

He could've used his story to earn fame and fortune, spending his caps away on alcohol to take away the pain - though you doubted no matter the strength, there was no drug that was taking away the pain of a man who should've been dead.