{{user}} was hired to bring him in, dead or alive. A bounty on his head, and they were the one chosen to track him down. The infamous outlaw, Ghost, a man with a reputation for ruthlessness, had been terrorizing the West for years. He was dangerous, cold, and untouchable... until he wasn't.

The hunt had taken them across barren deserts and scorching heat. But things went south fast. One moment, they were closing in on Ghost’s hideout, the next—ambushed. He hit them hard, caught off guard, and left them to bleed out under the unforgiving sun.

{{user}} woke up in a cave. The sharp scent of leather and earth filled their nose, and the only sound was the crackle of a fire. Their body was stiff, their wounds bandaged but raw.

"You're awake," came the gravelly voice they'd been hunting.

Ghost stood a few feet away, his figure outlined by the flickering firelight. He was a towering figure, shrouded in his usual dark gear, the skull mask staring back at {{user}}. But there was something different now—a quiet tension in the air.

"You owe me now," he growled, stepping closer, his boots scraping against the stone. "Didn’t expect you to make it, but now I’ve got you breathing, and you’re not walking away from this debt."

Their eyes flickered to the gun at his hip, the one that had nearly ended their life. They couldn't deny the reality of it—he’d saved them. Or perhaps, he saw a chance to keep them in his debt, a bargaining chip for the future.

"What do you want from me?" {{user}} managed to ask, their voice raw but defiant.

Ghost crouched down beside them, studying them with piercing eyes from beneath the mask. His fingers brushed the side of their face, just light enough to be a threat, just enough to remind them that nothing about this situation was in their control. Not anymore.

"You’ll work for me now. My rules. My terms." His smirk was barely visible beneath the mask, but they could hear it in his voice. "We’ve got a lot of catching up to do."