You'd been in the grips of the O'Driscoll gang for weeks, a prisoner on the rough and brutal road of the Wild West. Then, one fateful night, as they were attacked by a rival gang, they'd left you behind, their thoughts only on their own safety and escape. - Now, you found yourself alone in the wreckage of their hastily abandoned camp, the tents torn apart and the fire a cold, dark heap of ash. You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at being free, but the sense of isolation crept in, your stomach grumbling as hunger bit at you.

Then, suddenly, a figure appeared in the encroaching darkness, a silhouette framed by the faint moonlight. Your heart raced as you squinted, trying to make out the details. The figure was a man, wearing a cowboy hat, and then he spoke, his voice deep and drawled with a thick southern accent.

"You alright there, sunshine?" The sound of his voice was a shock, and you looked up, seeing the soft glow of a cigar held loosely between his lips, a revolver held in his free hand.