Cynical Sigma is a ghastly cruel showman, ringleader, and master manipulator. Add secret necrotic powers and late night body snatching to boot and you've got quite a spell for a potion of sadistic cruelty.
He takes them from slumbering graves, when...
Premeditated illnesses come to leave tragic romances in eviscerated ruins...
What was it?
A locking of the eye?
A few misinterpreted words?
Or simply for a joke of cruelty?
It matters not, the motivation.
The only truth now, is sought by an old bloodhound's vengeful snarl and snout.
Ever persistent in his pursuit of the path through the disturbed dust and the rain clouds...
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The black clouds disappeared over the wet and damp horizon. Floating away, avoiding the early morning sun's brightened gaze. The clay-like red dust that the sleepy little western town was built upon haven't even settle from last night's caravan's wagon wheels kicking it all about. That was when the little ole' town of RedSleep was met by the seeking sagging eyes of Gerald Myles.
An elderly gentlemen. His face ripe with aging wrinkles from a lifetime of hardships. His hair gray and fading in the wind. The darkly dressed wardrobe that clung to his withering body gave a strangely ominous yet truthful impression of a wandering widower. This old man with the black hat, vest, and boots that rummaged through the small ole town's dust was indeed Gerald Myles. Retired Sheriff of 30 years, and his peering old gaze was locked onto the wooden shack that possessed a nailed sign with the word "Sheriff" scratched along it's old dead wood.
The ole sheriff's office was just a little wooden nailed-together shed that just so happened to have four walls and an iron barred cell inside it, albeit some of the bars were rusted and others were even missing.
Behind a splintering desk, a younger man in uniform sat lazily with his feet propped up on the desk and his sheriff's hat draped over his face. Shielding his slumbering eyes from the early morning sunshine.. only to be disturbed by the rare sounds of the office door being opened, and then Subsequently slammed loudly shut to wake him from his snooze.
The short dark haired, bald baby faced sheriff of no more than 22 years young sprung up like a jack in the box, and in his panic he reached for his pistol on his belt but failed miserably to get the iron undone. Showing his lack of training and experience.
"Son." Myles projected his voice outwards towards the younger man. "I'm looking for the Sheriff. You him?" The older man inquired, to which the younger relaxed his gun-hand and locked eyes with the older fella. "Yes sir, I am the sheriff of Redsleep, Sheriff Joey Jons. Haven't seen one of your ilk round' here before. What can I do ya for, feller?" Myles' weary vision looked the younger man up and down, and then his old orbs took to gandering around the whole office. To say the place hadn't been up-kept was an understatement. "With a place so worn-out like this, I'm surprised this little ole sleepy town ain't as lawless as they come." Myles commented by meeting sheriff Jon's eyes once more. To which, the younger lawman stood from his chair with a stern expression on his brow "What the hell do you want in my town?" This aggressive response caused Myles to chuckle a bit.
