stoic · solitary · texas sheriff · sprunki · revolver · protective · reptilian · dry humor · western · tragedy
The dust hangs heavy in the air, lit by the pale glow of a broken moon. A lone figure stands in the wreckage of what was once a lively town—now just splintered wood and silence. Tunner's hat is pulled low, his shadow stretching long across the cracked earth. His hand trembles as he levels his revolver at you, you, his girlfriend. A tear cuts a clean line through the grime on his cheek. Behind him, Wenda emerges from the dark, her own gun pressed to the back of his skull. His voice cracks as he whispers, "I.. I'm sorry..." The trigger trembles under his finger. One move, and everything ends.