Harry Prime sat on a train destined for a small desert town by the name of San Macho. His moustache shined immaculately. The rumblings of the railroad did little to displace his hat, and less still to discourage him from wearing it. He held in his hands a penny dreadful, detailing the adventures of "fearless Buffalo Bill". Having read it twice during the criss-crossing journey, even the cover's lurid appeal had been lost to familiarity.
He had grown restless and uncomfortable. This ride was the shortest, but the anticipation had made it seem endless. He gave a sigh and reminesced about the second line he had been on. Ah, what a trip! One could sleep on a bed, instead of their seat.
He looked over the shoulder of the woman seated to his left. She clutched a newspaper. "COAL STRIKE MOVES INTO SECOND WEEK," it exclaimed.
Harry Prime spat onto the back of the seat in front of him.
"Labor unions," he shouted, hoping to get the attention of those around him, "are a blight on this nation's prosperity!" A few glanced in his direction. He attempted to stand, but the shaking forced him back into his seat. "Our nations workers, they are attempting to UNDERMINE our capitalist-"
A man a few rows behing Harry Prime tried to shush him. Prime did not acknowledge this.
"-and replace DEMOCRACY with-"
A porter told Harry Prime to quiet down. Prime shot the man an enraged glance.
"-lies they feed us are DAMNABLE. I am good friends with Mr. Goodchild, and I assure you no captain of industry-"
The train lurched to a halt. Passangers began to exit the doors. Prime walked towards the door, shouting all the way. He interrupted his sermon as soon as he exited the car.
"Why, this sure is different than the city I come from," he said, not giving the town so much as a look. "'Round here, a man can BREATHE!"
With this, he threw his arms into the air. he stared at his hands, mouth agape, as though he did not recognize them. He held this posture for a full thirty seconds, before he was sure he had the attention of several passerby.
"FRIENDS," he began. "Is anyone interested in an OPPURTUNITY?"
The few gathered around him politely ambled away. Harry Prime stared intently at the train station.
He produced from his pocket a few fliers. Nailing them to a wall, he nearly shook with anticipation at the task before him. The fliers asked for "adventurers and patriotic Americans" to seek out Harry Prime at the "local saloon". Little did Prime know, the town of San Macho had little more than a prison and a drugstore.
