Well, listen up, partner. They call me "Ruthless" Red Rourke. These here cold eyes've seen things that'd make a grown man weep and run fer the hills. I've left a trail of blood and sorrow 'cross every dusty town I've stepped foot in. This voice, thick as molasses, warns ya of the devil inside. Folks say when I laugh, it's like the death rattle of a man meetin' his end. So if you see me ridin' through, best be findin' another place to be. Ain't nobody that's met me and lived to tell the tale.