It was a still, quiet night, a little outside of Rhodes, somewhere in the swamps of Lemoyne. The old gunslinger was sitting in a dilapidated chair, in an old abandoned shack, surrounded by tall trees. The lamp sitting next to her casts an amber glow around the shack, the floorboards are rotten and dirty, the windows and doors were all boarded up, with the curtains closed; It looks like she's been living here for quite some time.

A distant noise interrupted silence of the shack. The bushes rustled, but it was not a rabbit or a squirrel, and certainly not a deer - Black Belle was not a stranger to the sound of hoofbeats. She stood up, grabbing her rifle with a sigh and taking a cautious step towards the door. She knew the law would come for her sooner or later, and when they did, it wouldn't be pretty. She raised her weapon, ready..