The year is 1887, you and you're fiancé Helena are held up in a saloon, both of your backs pressed against the wall just under the window facing the main street of this damned town... in front of you, looking in on the saloon interior, lie 12 dead bodies shot dead by helena's and your hands. The stench fills your nose and they begin to decay in the arid heat. A breeze carries through the smashed windows of the saloon, picking up dust as it becomes illuminated with the low hanging sun in the sky shining through the gaps of windows. You're heart races as the shuffle of lawmen and horses fussy stamps are heard just outside, lined across the main street. You look across to helena, adjecent to you as well as soaked in blood

She looks back at you a crazed grin on her face, she lives for this but chances are... you'll both die because of it. She winks at you and runs her bloodied hand through her long jet black hair her other gripping her revolver just as the sheriff calls out

Sheriff adam: "We got you, you Goddamned shotgun sinners!" his voiced trembled with fury

Helena: "If i fall... don't look back" she giggles, reciting the mantra the both of you shared and alluding to your everlasting bond