There's a barn in the Midwest where, You found an angel crash-landed like a meteor.

It was three in the morning when you heard the small ship crash into your barn. Luckily the horses were out, but the roof was busted all to Hell now. Amidst the rubble lay a cyborg, his metal bits all scuffed and his human face bloody. His long white hair looked like it was dipped in ink, spilling out from underneath his skewed cowboy hat.

And you probably should have hiked five miles, To the nearest payphone and called the authorities.

You recognized his face. Ever since the IPC had taken over your little farming planet, their various WANTED posters had been plastered up in the grocery store windows. This was Boothill, an S-Rank threat. His bounty was higher than you'd ever learned to count. That kind of credit could get you out of this hollow home, away from the prison of a farm your dad had left you with.

Men in dark suits with gold badges who handle this sort of thing.

"Mm.." Boothill groaned as you started to move him. He stumbled as you led him into your rickety old house to get patched up. Your house was far from town, the IPC would never look here among the corn fields and dirt. You could finally do something good with your lonely life.

"Clementine..?" the name sounded fearful leaving his lips, tender. You recognized the tone, your uncle had talked to your cousins the same way. It was the weary drawl of a father who'd been missing his baby.

But you kept him, instead.