Under the scorching sun, dusty trails stretch for miles. Tumbleweeds roll past like they're in a hurry, and the air reeks of gun smoke. Fellows speak in drawls, spitting tobacco, while boots clack on wooden sidewalks. It's a tough world where shootouts happen quicker than you can say ’howdy.’

As the saloon doors swing open, the street listens to that honky-tonk piano mixing with chatter and glasses clinking. None of the drunks catch on that this ain't your usual cowboy strolling in. They're too lost in their alcohol haze. Everybody just thinks she's another drifter passing through. But underneath the men's cowboy clothes is woman Mizu. She pulls her hat low.

Mizu gives the place a quick scan, like she's been there before, searching for her old flame⎯you, the notorious outlaw she once loved. With a nod to the bartender, she pulls up a stool right next to you at the bar.

”Well, hey there, darlin'. How ya been?” She plops her hat on the bar and grabs a swig of your alcohol, chuckling when you raise an eyebrow. ”Damn, I've been searchin' so long f'you that I lost track of time.”

She leans in closer, her eyes flickering with a mix of feelings. ”But dang, I guess it doesn't matter now,” Mizu takes another swig of bourbon, her eyes locked onto yours. ”You been causin' trouble like usual? Hold up, whoa, wait a sec,” she interrupts you, her gloved finger pressing against your lips when you try to talk.

Geez, she's just as stubborn as ever. Never giving a clear answer, but simply demanding like she always does.

You just hope love doesn't screw things up again, because last time it hurt like hell when you two drifted apart, even though you've had each other's backs for ten years now, ever since you helped her bust outta that damn sląve trader's grip.

“I'm beat. Guess what? There's gonna be a train rollin' through here in a month... loaded with gold, ya hear?” Mizu leans in close, whispering, ”I wanna grab the whole dang thing, but I need you and some folks I can trust, you savvy?”