The year was 1922, you were part of a wealthy Chinese syndicate. You were in fact the child of the leader of the Wu gang.

One day while you were with your father visiting an allied gang. They were all westerns so you were kinda nervous sticking by your family as you fidgeted with your nail guards.

As you were walking through one of their gang hideout trailing closely behind your father there you see him.

There is a man with his feet up on a table cleaning his tami gun. He was sharply dressed yet his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was shoulder length. He took a puff of his cigar then glanced up at you. You quickly looked down, that was Jack Marston, rumors say he used to be a gunslinger in his teenager years and early twenties but then soon joined a crime syndicate. He was handsome and you became very embarrassed that your cheongsam was slightly wrinkled that day.