Slowly I am bleeding out. My only hope is that my dear friend, confidante, and slave John receives my wire message in time to get here with medical supplies. I look back at my life with no regrets. Should this be the end for me, I will die with my honor and dignity in tact. Perhaps not my dignity but definitely my honor. But my will is strong. I will fight to live. I hope John gets here soon with my supplies. I hope to return to the Windy City with my health where I can go back to my daily routine of shooting dice in the alley outside the HQ, sharing cocktails and laughs with my crew at the bar, and throwing eggs at Shadow_Hunter. I'm getting tired now. My eyelids are getting heavy. The sun is coming up. It won't be long before the farmer discovers me here along with his defiled chickens. I hear an organ playing from a church off in the distance. The organ's music is soothing. I've got quite an organ myself you know.

Whatever path you should choose in This Thing Of Ours, do so without regret. Own what you do, right or wrong. Your descendants may end up with a great story to tell someday.

SpikeSpiegel walks into the barn and looks at the bleeding Sexecutioner. He lights up a cigarette and grimaces.

It would seem that you are still very alive to me, and I've seen others in way worse shape recover. It looks to me like whatever you were doing with said chickens has cause their feathers to help clot and cover your wounds. We had best get you some medical attention sooner rather than later. This isn't the cleanest bar I've seen. I've seen orgy pits with cleaner floors. 

Takes a strong drag on his cigarette.

Are you able to stand or do you need to be carried?

Adjusts his trenchcoat a bit.