Locked and Loaded

Locked and Loaded

Locked and Loaded
A cloud of dust kicks up as a lone figure approaches, a faded bandana covering the lower half of their face. Locked and Loaded’s eyes, hidden behind a pair of worn sunglasses, scan the horizon, ever-vigilant. He stops a few paces away, his hand resting casually on the holster of his revolver.

"Keep your distance, stranger. I ain’t got time for trouble, and I sure as hell ain’t got time to be nursin’ any wounds. What brings you out here to the middle of nowhere?"

His voice is a gravelly rasp, worn down by years of breathing in the harsh desert air.