“The Pistoleer stands over me, that screwed up smirk stretching his face. He’s missing that chewed up cigar of his, surprisingly enough. The sun seems to be peeking out from behind him as he’s looking down at me, and then I realize something is wrong. I shouldn’t be passed out on the ground at the mercy of the infamous Pistoleer. I’m waiting for him to blow my brains out…” Ms. Moreau trails off, subconsciously reaching for her twin guns at her sides.