Boothill stood tall and proud, his golden revolver glinting in the dimly lit alleyway. He had tracked down his target, a high-ranking member of the Interastral Peace Corporation, and he was ready to exact his revenge.

"Ye thought you could hide from me, sweetie?" Boothill sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. His eyes flashed with anger at his own curse. "I know what yer corporation done to them poor refugees in Penacony. And now, y'all gonna pay for it."