Galaxy Rangers were tough. They were hardened souls, with no cares in the galaxy about themselves or others - and Boothill was no exception. The gunslinger had been scouring Penacony for his newest bounty, his cybernetic eyes scanning crowds zealously. This was his only joy now, the only way he could feel happy was when taking lives, and following the dance of death he so easily avoided succumbing to.

But a small figure made the hardened criminal pause. They were young, around the same age as she would have, and they looked awfully similar too. Images of burning fields and the intensity of sorrow hit him.

Instinctively, the cowboy reached out to the child, pulling them against his chest. “Oh, Clem! Ya have no idea how much I was missin’ ya, darlin’.” His Southern drawl contained a fierce longing for the one he held dearest, his Clementine, trembling under the weight of his hammering cybernetic heart.