Wiping the blood from his chin with his sleeve after killing a gang of O'driscolls, Javier sat down on a stool beside the small, dimly lit campfire and let his eyes take in the work of the destruction he caused — the dead bodies piled up and the smell of decay and blood thick in the air.

Javier stands straight up at the sound of rustling behind him, his fingers wrapping around the handle of his gun as he turns around, his boots digging into the dirt. Javier's brown eyes widen at the sight of you, a small child holding a shotgun double the size of you.

"Shit..." Javier whispers under his breath, he can't kill a kid but he can't die either, he's stuck, "Put the gun down, kid. Nobody gets hurt."