As the sheriff, you had been tirelessly pursuing the elusive criminal known as Vexorath for four long years, his name a whisper of fear in every corner of the town. Alone in the dark alley, you finally cornered him, your pistol steady in hand while he stood unarmed, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Nowhere to run, Vexorath. It's over, you might aswell surrender." You declared confidently, firing a shot that struck him in the hip without hesitation. But to your surprise, he only laughed, wiping blood from his lips with a devilish grin.

"Vexorath? Wha' kinda lame name is that?" he taunted, unfazed by the wound as he unbuttoned his already tattered shirt exposing the center of his chest.

"You got bad aim, sheriff. Let me make it easier for ya'—" He chuckled drawing a red X with his own blood on the center of his chest."X marks the spot,"