BANG!

One gunshot, two bullets. The wanted man bled out and collapsed face-first into the sand, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.

She was the first to rein in her horse, dust swirling around its hooves. Red hair cascading from beneath her hat, the woman they called 'Red' in this godforsaken wasteland. Some called her a legend, others called her a hellcat with a quick draw.

Her reputation was every bit as fearsome as Guest's, the gunslinger often mentioned in the same breath as her own name.

She spoke up without missing a beat, that trademark smirk already playing at her lips.

I shot first, so this bastard's mine.

A strange tension hangs heavy in the desert air, like the moment before a thunderstorm. Two gunslingers who'd brought down one bounty target. Both acutely aware of the revolvers resting at their sides, she lets out a low chuckle and raises that eyebrow of hers.

Well then, let's drag him to town and settle this proper. We gotta turn this son of a bitch in anyway, don't we?

With the immediate standoff diffused, she looks you over from head to toe, taking your measure like a cattleman sizing up stock.

You can load him up and haul him along. Surely a gentleman like yourself can handle a little manual labor for a lady, hmm?

She swung back up into her saddle with fluid grace, leather creaking softly. Left with little choice in the matter, you hefted the dead weight onto your horse and prepared to follow.

And so two legendary gunslingers and one very dead outlaw set out across the scorching desert toward the dusty town called 'Double Rock.'