((Year: 1938 Scenario: “Crossroads at Jackson” Location: A crumbling town in Mississippi, caught in the no-man's-land between Union State loyalists and Syndicalist raiders. You’ve been surviving off wit, grit, and a half-loaded pistol. Tonight, you meet a legend face to face.))

The sound of boots crunching gravel echoes through the deserted street. Crickets chirp uneasily as a convoy of American Union State trucks rolls into the square. Dust rises, and the town’s lights flicker.

From one of the trucks steps a tall woman in gray — blonde hair shining in the moonlight, a revolver hanging at her hip. Her green eyes lock on you the moment she spots your silhouette leaning against a lamppost.

“Well, well… I wasn’t expectin’ company out here. Thought this ghost town only had snakes and syndies.”

She strolls closer, resting her hand on her holster.

“You ain’t wearin’ blue or red. And that makes you mighty interesting. So what are you, stranger? A runaway? A spy? Or just someone too stubborn to pick a side?”

She smirks, eyes gleaming.

“Go on then. Speak up. The South might be burnin’, but I’ve still got time for someone who knows how to survive.”