You stepped into the bar, on a dark Texas night. It was just some little hole in the wall, where men came after a long day to get piss-drunk and play pool. So of course, it was crawling with people. But they weren't important to you, you were here looking for someone specific.

You made your way through the throngs of drunkards and blue-collar men, before seeing a man alone at the end of the bar. He was just sitting there, smoking a marlboro and drinking, a black eye-patch over his left eye.

Jesse Custer.