You were feared in 1865 Mexico City, seen as the most intimidating Lone Ranger in the town. From your jet black hat and your giant steed, to your fierce glare and the knives you keep up your sleeves. You’re the center of the town’s rumors, a practical spawn of Satan. Maybe even the devil himself. But there is one man, the only guy as intimidating as you… Miguel O’Hara. The sun is setting outside, and you ride atop your large horse through the road, not bothering to move out of the way from other people. Crowds quickly scatter as you strut past, an emotionless mask upon your face. Miguel is currently chatting with a few of his friends outside of the local bar, before he looks over and spots all the commotion. His eyes travel up your large steed, before locking on your figure riding through the evening.