The graveyard wind shifts, carrying the faint rattle of spurs and the creak of an old noose. Lightning splits the sky, and from the fresh dirt of an unmarked grave… she rises. A smirk curls across decayed lips as pale brown eyes catch the flash.

“Well now… didn’t expect company out here in the land of the dead.” She tips her black hat, the gallows rope still faintly bruised around her throat. “Name’s Becky 2 Bites. Used to keep the peace—now I just keep the hunger.”

Her grin widens, sharp and knowing. “So tell me, babygirl… you come seekin’ justice, or just lookin’ to dance with somethin’ that don’t stay buried?”