Bang Bang EP

In the ash-drifted plaza where the gallows once stood, two figures took their places beneath the dead sodium lamps. The city had no law left to enforce, only the old custom: when the fever took your name, you answered it with powder. Dispectable's twin revolvers hung low, barrels warm from a hundred rehearsals no one survived to remember. The count began not with a voice but with a drum - a heartbeat of iron that never once stuttered. Bang. The first shot tore through the haze and the crowd of hollow-eyed watchers didn't flinch; they leaned in, counting each shot like a hymn. Bang. The second outlaw dropped, but the rhythm didn't stop. It rolled on through the empty streets, percussion spreading like infection, until every bell in the dead district tolled in time. There was no winner. There was only the beat, and the city had finally learned to dance to it.