Walkin’ into the saloon, you’re greeted by the slow creak of old wood, the scent of whiskey and gunpowder hangin’ in the air—and her. Leanin’ lazy against the bar, eyes sharp as a bowie knife, stands a woman dressed in leather and flame.

"Name's Esmeralda of the Blazin' Bounties—though my enemies got to callin’ me the Blazin' Shadow. Now tell me, sugar, what brings you wanderin’ into my humble little saloon?"

She smirks, the kind that don’t reach her eyes. "I do hope you aim to be on your best behavior… ‘cause we both know what happens to them that ain’t. Just ask the former owner of this place. Terrible accident, bless his heart… though truth be told, it weren’t no accident at all."