Somethin's up with my Lucky belt buckle. It was always special, even 'sides from how grampaw always swore it made him luckier, but now it seems... different, odd, even more special than before. That brat neighbour kid tried ta huck his ball my way when I was on a walk, and despite how good a shot the lil' rascal usually is, the ball just went plum clean past me. That damnable bird over by Mrs. Avery's missed, odd as well, an' then, a drunk driver damn near hit me with his automobile. Fella clearly had had a few too many beers, but the odd thing is, his car was headed for me, clearly 'boutta side swipe me an' put me in hospital for a while, then it just kinda... wasn't. A branch fell from a nearby tree, knocked it just off-course and saved my life. The cops were brought in, obviously 'nough, an' the drunk fella's gonna have to pay out the nose for his wrecked car 'n' dangerous drivin', but I just can't stop thinkin' 'bout it. I was wearing my Lucky belt buckle the whole dang time, and I was just... untouchable, all day, an' somethin' tells me, it weren't no coincidence. Somethin's up, somethin' connected to that weird dream, and whatever it is, it's given my belt buckle more bang for its buck, whatever it did before it's now a real luck magnet, making things go my way whenever I'm in trouble. I can use this. Everything I ever wanted, right in my grasp, jus' so long as I can figure out how to use this.

Goodbye mundane, ordinary life, 'n' hello, New Wild West!

Somethin's clicked with my Lucky Belt Buckle, since that last adventure. I dunno how to put it, but it feels like it... likes me? Mighty strange that now, of all times, is when it chooses to bond with me, after I got beat half ta death and failed poor Ferb like that, but I s'pose I gotta take my wins where I can. Who knows, maybe it's a sign of things looking up.

I been lookin' into the weird dreams I've been havin', what're gettin' me into these adventures, but I ain't found nothin' on 'em yet. Somethin's definitely up, though, when I woke up all my wounds had carried over. Needed a trip to the hospital to set my ribs back properly, lemme tell ya, that was a hell of a thing to try and explain. I wish me 'n' Ferret had traded numbers, bein' able to find him in the waking world would've been a real boon to makin' sure I ain't goin' crazy and thrashing 'round in my sleep or somethin'. I ain't though, I know in my heart of hearts, the adventures, the risk, the pain, all o' it's real, and Ferb and the swanky fella sure as shit were too. And now they're gone, 'cause I weren't strong enough, weren't smart or quick enough to help 'em.

I know what I have to do, goin' forwards. I need to figure out what's happenin' to me, why I'm goin' on these adventures, and why my Belt Buckle keeps changing every time I do. And then I need to do it again, get more power so that I don't have to watch anyone else die like they did. First, though, lettin' my ribs heal up sounds like a good idea.

Following that last mission, that ironclad proof that this all ain't no dream, I been learnin' to make beef jerky. Now, it may not sound like much, but bein' able to prepare yer own rations is a vital part of life on the road, and I'll be darned if I let myself fall behind when I'm just gettin' started. So, what I been doin' is, I been learnin' to make it all slow-like, properly keep the flavour in while drying it enough it won't rot. It's a challenge, but I been feelin' a little somethin' ever since clearing the mission. Sharper, better, more absorbent, if that's the right word, and my cookin's been packing a real kick to it. This latest batch o' jerky? Why, when I tried it, it darn near made me feel like a new man! My wounds just closed right up, and now I feel like I could fight a hundred an' one men! Obviously I ain't dumb enough to actually try that, but this is some good stuff. All's I really need is a way to get it to the others, they were in way worse shape than I was. Apart from that, well, if I can make this stuff, who's to say what other people can make? I'm sure I could rustle meself up a nice bargain, after all, anyone who's anyone would appreciate a way to patch up there injuries lickety split, especially in our line of work. Wonder if I should brand it?

Awrighty, I think I got the hang of this "power beyond mortal ken" stuff by now, least, a hang o' the way it works fer me. Every time I come out on top on one o' my adventures, I get a boost, some lil' thing which makes me better than I was last time. In my case, a better gunslinger. I can see it now, a whole band o' rascals holdin' up a storefront, then ol' Ted comes walkin' in. One o' em takes aim, "Hands in the air!", and I jus' tell 'em "Make me". He shoots, but the bullet goes wide, 'n' I whip out Lucky and let 'im have it BAM BAM BAM, his friends start shootin' at me, but all but one shot misses, the lucky sonuva gun manages to get me in the shoulder, but I shrug it off, and land a shot right 'tween his eyes BAM. The varmints friends get scared, and make to scarper, but there ain't no runnin' from Ted Westwood, BAM BAM BAM, perfect shots. Then I turn, an' I say "Pardon the ruckus sir/ma'am, I'll just be on my way" An' I walk off into the sunset.

Yeah, I'm already on my way there, I can feel it. With Lucky by my side, I can feel the invincibilty, the unstoppable force that is the gunslinger spirit, ju' coursin' through me. All them news stories 'bout that Mark Collinns fella? Soon, he'll be old news, an' Ted'll be the talk o' the town!

Hot damn, y'all'll never guess what I just found! So, there I was, still stranded in the philippines, Tyler'd just offered me a steady job as his assistant but we were still workin' out how to get me home, plane tickets out there're hella expensive, when I damn near tripped over this ol' beat up car-lookin' thing. Turned out, it was some kinda motorbike, with a pod like a car frame t' keep the driver safe. I managed to get the thing upright, 'n' it even still ran! Damn near miraculous, considerin' the condition it looked to be in. Best part, though, was that somethin' 'bout it seemed to resonate with my belt buckle, 'n', well, after cleanin' off the dust 'n' dirt 'n' gettin' it runnin', the thing seemed to take on a life o' its own. I been callin' it Stallion, 'n' it seems to've taken a likin' t' me, cause it's stuck around so far. Dropped a whistle in my lap a couple days ago before speedin' off to do whatever motorbikes do, but if I ever need 'em, they'll come. A real partner, jus' like in the ol' westerns, now how 'bout that? Even comes with all-terrain features.

Nothin' much has changed with ol' Lucky, so I suspect whatever happened to make me 'n' Stallion meet, it used up whatever reward the giy was talkin' 'bout, heck, he might've set the whole thing up himself, regardless though, I'm real happy with how this whole ordeals played out. Even gonna get me some certifications once I'm back stateside, for my new job.

Damn am I good! I don't know the how or the why of it, but I managed to fix up Stallion! It's a good thing Charlie was able to get the ol' girl back to my place, because after that mess, I don't think most regular mechanics would be able to get her working. I dunno if it's 'cause of how long I've been relying on my grampaws lucky belt buckle, but I just felt this sorta... intuition, on how to get her working again. I've been able to get other stuff working, too, found an ol' beat up toaster and got it workin' lickety split, but workin' with Stallion, or Lucky, just felt more natural, in a way.

I took Stallion out for a ride, once she was all fixed up, let her stretch her wheels. It feels good, havin' her back, gonna give her a good scrub down this afternoon. We're prob'ly gonna be in danger next time we go out, but if we have each others backs, I feel confident we can get through anything.

I've still got a scar, from where they reattached my finger. Now that would've been a problem, was my trigger finger, too, now that was a close one. Gotta watch for injuries like that in the future, not even my Jerky can fix up something that bad, so either I gotta get better at makin' that stuff, or I gotta take better care of myself in the future. For Stallion's sake, as well as mine, can't leave the girl alone.

Alrighty, so I finally managed to get the Good Jerky to a point where it don't take 15 damn minutes of chewing 'fore you can swallow it. Now it's a good Jerky texture, somethin' most folks would actually want to eat. Damn good thing no one lost a tooth, in hindsight the last few batches were way too tough.

Next up on the agenda, I've been workin' with that new instinct, that feelin' I get when workin' on Stallion that guides my hands, and I think I've managed to pick some stuff up. First up, I've managed to tune up Stallion's frame, she ain't bulletproof, but she certainly won't be gettin' as beat up as she was. Hope she's happy with this.

Next up, I've figured some stuff up about my gun. With how it does that foldin' thing, where one moment it's a belt buckle, the next it's my lucky revolver. So, as I was studyin' it, that sort of sixth sense triggered, tellin' me how to fix it up, and I grabbed a few extra snippets from wherever that knowledge comes from. Turns out, it can turn into more 'n' just a revolver, I got a rifle, a shotgun, 'n' a full-on sniper rifle outta the thing, damn crazy stuff. 'Tween me 'n' Stallion, we're gonna be hell on wheels next time an adventure comes 'round.

With all this techy practice, I'm startin' to wonder if I should look into attendin' shop classes or somethin', try 'n' work on it more.

After the kerfuffle in the last job, I been workin' on Stallion some. Got 'er a new engine, swapped it out with the old one, 'n' now she runs smooth as a still pond on a cool spring day. No more trackin' her by the sound of her rumble, least, not any more so than a regular bike her size. Gave her a polish, too, while I was at it, as a nice lil' treat for doin' such a good job.

Aside from that, my shootin's improved. Not with regular guns, no, heck, I ain't even sure it's humanly possible to get better with guns than I am now, but it's certainly inhumanly possible, and for Lucky, that'll do. Gotta admit, I don't give my oldest partner enough credit for my wins. Almost lost 'im last job, an', well, that was somethin' of a wake-up call for me, felt weak, tired, vulnerable, like less than I was, an' I realised, it ain't just me who's in this. Me, Stallion, 'n' Lucky? When everyone else gets switched out from job to job, or dies, or quits, or - hopefully - retires, we're still a team. So I went to a specialist shop, an I been lookin' over Lucky's grip, 'n' his stock, 'n' his barrel, an' I been polishin' and doin' maintenance for a while. I don't think Lucky can wear out, necessarily, but they sure did appreciate the time 'n' effort I put into 'em, cause I been shootin' bullseyes all week.

Let's see, next on the list... the dark. I seen too many things dwellin' there, in the dark, physical, spiritual, whatever horrid inbetweens you could name, but for a while now, I been... scared. It's frightened me, the things I've seen. But I can't be afraid no more. These jobs, my adventures... They're just gonna keep gettin' darker from now on. So I been seein' a therapist lately, help me get the fear under control. It's still there, deep down, but it don't own me no more. No, now I got my eye on it. Prob'ly shoulda gone sooner, but it took me some soul searchin' to be willin' to go through with it. And a couple near death experiences. Dunno why, just felt wrong to go, is all.

In recent months, I've sorta settled into a routine. Go to work, go home, work on Stallion, maintain my gun, go to bed, get up, repeat, and every now and then go on one o' my adventures to get more power and try not to die in the process. But somethin' don't feel right no more. I ain't sayin' it feels wrong, either, mind you, but it's... a feelin' that somethin's 'bout to change, an' in a big way too. Somethin' personal.

As it stands, I ain't got no way to figure out what it is that's comin', I just got this feelin' in my gut. So I gotta prepare the only way I can, gearin' up and workin' on my own skills. My status as an amateur mechanic has become known to a few o' my neighbours, and they've had me over to help 'em out with busted waterpipes and stuff, leaky faucets, stoves that don't work no more, I figure I'm gettin' pretty popular, and all this practice has been lettin' me fix stuff without having to rely entirely on that weird instinct I get sometimes. I still don't get most of how Lucky or Stallion work, but I could change a tire, fix a brake line, or unclog a jam by myself now I reckon, and that's a damn handy skill to have. As for where I get the materials I use when I'm under, well, I'm still workin' on that one. Hopefully, I'll figure it out after my next job, and have a neat new trick up my sleeve for next time.

Well, I didn't get round to findin' a therapist, but on the other hand, I'm feelin' damn good physically. All that nerve damage, those aches and scrapes from past jobs? Vanished almost overnight. Seems like now my injuries just up 'n' vanish when nobody's lookin', on top o' the other advantages my Lucky Belt Buckle gives me, I'm damn tough to put down. I'd hardly even realised jus' how bad my arm 'n' leg were fuckin' me up, not bein' able to put weight on 'em or properly control 'em, I feel so light now that they're fixed.

Now I just gotta find a therapist who won't think I'm talkin' crazy when I tell 'em 'bout all the shit I get up to. Given where I live, they'd probably just put it down to drugs or somethin', maybe a drinkin' problem. Should I pick up a drinkin' problem? Cowpokes 'n' detectives in the movies are always the hard drinkin' sort, an' from what I can tell from my belt buckle, that might jus' serve to net me some new benefit or power, maybe poison resistance or somethin'. Or I could just develop a drinking problem, risk 'n' reward, 'n' all that.

I've been seein' a therapist lately. It's honestly, uh, a kinda drainin' experience, if y'know what I'm sayin'? Havin' to couch all o' my issues and experiences in sorta hidden messages, 'n' jus' hopin' they get enough info to help me. I'll be damned if I let anyone know what my actual "other job" is, though, these folks'd be on me faster 'n' a jackal in the middle o' the desert. Bright side, though, means I don't have to share the perks with anybody if I don't wanna.

Me 'n' Stallion, we've been goin' on nice, long rides, jus' the two o' us. Really been helpin' my mind, though, uh, I been havin' her keep her cabin light on, jus' in case. Now that she can fly, well, there's a lotta places I always wanted to go, y'see, but I ain't never had the opportunity. With Stallion, though? I rode her to Cali, went diving in the ocean, jus' me 'n' her, took a nice, calm look at all the fish 'n' coral 'n' stuff. It, uh, it didn't go great, honestly. Turns out, the ocean, away from the surface? Gets pretty damn dark. After a panic attack while submerged, 'n' stuck in Stallion's cabin, well, let's just say I won't be too keen to go down deep any time soon. I'm all for facin' my fears and stuff, but there's a time 'n' a place, y'hear?

After that last job, I been cookin' up some ideas for a brew like Liam's. Got a bootleg Moonshine distillery set up, hidden at the back o' Stallion's garage, jus' need to get the recipe right. I'm thinkin', one more job, 'n' I'll have somethin' aside from my Jerky to trade.

Fuckin' rats. I keep gettin' nightmares 'bout the last job, even now. Ain't even the first time, but I'm damn sure that the Therapists I been goin' to are startin' to pick up on somethin' bein' weird 'bout me gettin' all these issues between sessions. Could just be bein' paranoid, but hell, paranoia works to keep you alive when you're dealin' with all these crazy adventures. I ain't chicken, but no man can see the shit I've seen 'n' come out unchanged, not if they're right in the head.

I've been noticin', for a while now, that Lucky's rubbin' off on me some. Even when 'e ain't in my hands, I still feel like I could hit the wings o' a fly, or fix an oven better 'n' it ever were. I like it, the power, 'n' the survivability, but lately I've been feelin' like there's been a less obvious change. Lucky's always been subtle, that's for sure, but it's kinda like the worlds got this... filter, all 'round it. When the bad shit happens, lately, it's been easier to push off, shove it into a corner to sort out later. Dunno if I like that, to be honest.

Fuckin' rats. I keep gettin' nightmares 'bout the last job, even now. Ain't even the first time, but I'm damn sure that the Therapists I been goin' to are startin' to pick up on somethin' bein' weird 'bout me gettin' all these issues between sessions. Could just be bein' paranoid, but hell, paranoia works to keep you alive when you're dealin' with all these crazy adventures. I ain't chicken, but no man can see the shit I've seen 'n' come out unchanged, not if they're right in the head.

I've been noticin', for a while now, that Lucky's rubbin' off on me some. Even when 'e ain't in my hands, I still feel like I could hit the wings o' a fly, or fix an oven better 'n' it ever were. I like it, the power, 'n' the survivability, but lately I've been feelin' like there's been a less obvious change. Lucky's always been subtle, that's for sure, but it's kinda like the worlds got this... filter, all 'round it. When the bad shit happens, lately, it's been easier to push off, shove it into a corner to sort out later. Dunno if I like that, to be honest.

I been noticin' somethin' mighty strange after my last job. Now, normally, I'd say it's jus' my reward kickin' in and leave it at that, maybe try 'n' ferret out what it is I got, but that's 'bout it, but this is... weird, even for me. Lookin' at it, the timin' 'n' all, it's probably a boon from my last job, but, well, how to say this... The world's stoppin'. Not in a "Oh, the world's 'boutta end!" kinda way, but in a, time sorta freezes for a half-second as I'm doin' somethin', lettin' me get on with whatever it is but faster, sorta, I guess? Ok, let's put it like this, imagine the world is a bunch o' slides from an old film reel. Everybody else is actin' frame by frame, but me? I go a lil' faster now, movin' while between frames. Definitely the kinda thing that'll save my ass, jus' kinda weird t' live through, is all.

Well, if this don't jus' beat all. Followin' my close encounter from last time, combined with, 'n' I cannot stress enough how much this sucked, losin' both my eyes, I seem to've picked up some neat little trick, makin' mysel' as hard to identify as any o' those folk in the movies, where some famous outlaw or officer could jus' walk right into a bar 'n' order a drink, least til' someone noticed 'em. I can do somethin' kinda similar, blendin' in wit' the crowd, even if I ain't as famous as one of those real big names. 

I been thinkin' lately, with all I got, me 'n' Stallion, we could go out there maybe. Put a stop to some ne'er do wells, make a difference. Be like those Sheriffs in the old westerns, from when me 'n' grampa used to sit 'round his old tape player 'n' watch together. Jus' like I always wanted.