Three figures stand in the center of town, hands tense. The streets have cleared, leaving them the sole people that stand in the light of day. Hands raised, they look between each other, a narrative leading to this final, climatic moment. Nothing but a breeze blows between them, their pasts intertwined.

One stands tall, proud and clean shaven. The sheriff of the town, once friend and compatriot to the two others in front of him. For while he had a wild past, responsibility and duty to the common folk had sent him on a collision course with the two in front of him.

Standing on the right was a man that seemed to be cast in shadow. His reputation followed the trail of bodies behind them, his shadow long from the dark deeds. Whispers at the saloon said he was evil incarnate, a patron of death itself.

The third was a wild thing, covered in old scars and wounds. From the way he hunched, one could forgive the mistake of thinking him some animal. The world had turned him ugly, a bestial form that was once human but barely resembling anything like that no matter how much he tried.

It ended as all gunfights did, with two dead on the ground and one remaining victorious. A hero to stand among the villains that had grown from the dark around them. And it’s only the good that remain to tell stories of facing evil. The victor writes the tale.

Ropes may not be streets, and fists replace guns, but here we stand at the crossroads again. A tale as old as time, repeating again and again. And like before, we stand ready, tense. Ready to strike.

In one corner looms what looks like an avatar of death, a Valkyrie in the most literal sense. But behind the given reigns, we see the bodies it took to get there. Your past haunts you to this day, hovering in your ear of the trail of bodies behind you.

The second holds Ayami, wolf in heart despite the attempts to smother the beast. You’ve pushed for the best you can, trying to be human as much as you can. But beneath all of it, it hungers doesn’t it? The beast that devours, the wolf that strikes out despite everything you’ve tried to be.

And then there’s me. I’ve been the monster, the serpent in the grass born into the face that everyone looks to keep them safe. I’ve got my fair share of skeletons in the closet, but the difference stands: I aim to be better than the darkness around me. You have let it swallow you whole, and twisted anything that once resembled a human. And with that alone, you’re doomed to the sweet darkness that only death can provide.

So put up your dukes, unsheath your claws. Try as you can to make your shot as fast as you can. I’ll be there first, fast on the draw and swifter on the takedown.