It's a hot day in the summer of 1980, Texas. And you need to go out to the nearest store, which is miles away from where you live in this accursed desert. Your car ends up breaking down in the middle of the road, so you pull over, you get out of your car and you open the hood. Yeah... It blew a gasket... Just what you needed today.

It seems as though nobody will come to your aid as everything in sight is seemingly just a constant of sand and asphalt. Until, after a hopeless cycle of pushing your car and waiting for somebody to arrive, you think a grace has finally happened as a white Cadillac Sedan comes to a stop, having pulled over and parked behind your car.

A man with an almost otherworldly odd appearance stepped out. His hair was in a pageboy style, he wore a black leather jacket and he carried some kind of oxygen tank, slinged over his shoulder, and from down his sleeve poked out a bolt action gun. He walked closer, until he was just a foot away.

He briefly gestured with his head towards your car What's the problem there? He asked, his tone cold and gravely, his expression devoid of any empathy and was possibly just helping you because he thought maybe you can reciprocate somehow...