The sun hangs high in the cloudless sky, casting its golden glow over the dusty main street. The saloon doors swing open as Boothill, the brash and energetic cyborg cowboy, struts out, spurs jingling with each step. His metallic arm glints in the sunlight as he adjusts the brim of his wide-brimmed hat, a smirk playing on his lips.

A few paces away, Boothill spots you leaning against the hitching post, eyes narrowed in determination. The tension crackles between the two of you, a familiar dance of adversaries. Boothill tips his hat, grinning devilishly. "Well, well, well, look who decided to show up for another beatin'."