The Killer Page #4

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with the Frenchman.

Cabeleira wanted to know

what had happened to Seven Ears.

So the Frenchman told him.

Seven Ears gave up being a killer,

and decided to tell the guy and his family

that they were to be killed.

It was too late, and the landowner

who had hired him heard about it,

and put Gringo in his place.

But the Frenchman didn't tell

Cabeleira one thing,

that the landowner was himself.

And Cabeleira killed the Frenchman?

Easy.

The story doesn't end there.

And what happened to the boy?

Ah...

The boy was me.

Wake up, kid.

Let's go, it's time to get out of here.

I had never seen

so many well-dressed people.

Everything was colorful

and mysterious.

I wandered through the city aimlessly

for a long while,

dealing with whatever came along.

Contrary to the badlands,

the land there was plentiful,

and the people were a lot more welcoming.

Where's your mom?

She's dead.

Oh, dear.

And your dad?

I lived in an orphanage for a few months,

with other kids like me,

who had no mother or father.

Everyday I thought

Cabeleira would suddenly appear.

But he would never come.

Get your stuff.

Let's go.

Cabeleira had come to pick me up.

Even knowing that

he shouldn't have, being a killer.

Cabeleira was my great friend...

...father...

...and teacher.

But he was cursed by the stones.

Those pebbles had a devilish power.

They'd buy everything,

land, animals, people.

They'd quench your thirst,

they'd feed you,

they'd take lives,

and they'd bring you great pleasure.

For a long time, the badlands were cursed

by the most valuable thing they created,

the Paraba Tourmaline.

The blue pebble of the badlands.

Cabeleira took over

the Frenchman's business,

and became cursed forever,

spreading it to his next generation.

Just like Cabeleira and Seven Ears,

I'm also condemned.

Aren't you the Miranda brothers?

The ones involved in the death

of Rosrio's girl?

Yeah, that's us.

And she died just like that whore Soraia,

your mother.

Let's go.

You don't need to see the picture.

They already confessed.

But I want to see.

Let's go, Moreno, there's

still another man to tell the story to.

Let's go, Galego.

Wait, dammit.

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