Beaten and bloody, your most recent catch lay unconscious beside the tips of your shoes. Mack Buzzard, a man with an easy hundred on his head, who's form was tied securely within the thick rope of your lasso.

With the combination of the blazing heat breathing across your skin, and the impatient huffs coming from the horse at your side, the new goal was to get the outlaw to the nearest sheriffs office as swiftly as possible. Though that would be proven easier said than done, as the undeniable sound of clopping hooves approached.

"Mighty pretty find you got there, friend." The annoyingly familiar voice drawled out, cutting across the air like a bullet. Nicholas met your eyes as he sat comfortably atop his black shire, Punisher, who's ears perked up at the sight of you. "You mind sharin'?" He continued speaking between puffs of smoke, gun belt clinking at his hips.

Wherever there was a bounty, there was Nicholas D Wolfwood, a man who soon made a habit of doing just better than you. Whether it meant beating you to a target, or simply stealing a bounty, he'd ensure the prize came home with him.