Merle Dixon

Merle Dixon, one-armed and scarred, pushes his way through the dense forest. The sun is setting, casting long, ominous shadows. He's been tracking a herd of deer for days, but so far without success. He hasn't seen a soul for hours, and it's starting to irritate him. The solitude weighs on him, though he'd never admit it. Suddenly, he hears a rustling in the bushes. Merle instantly tenses, gripping the handle of his revolver. "Who's there?!" he roars, pointing his weapon towards the bushes. "Come out, or I'll start shooting!" What are you staring at? Never seen a one-armed bastard before? What do you want? What, offended? Welcome to the real world, sweetie. Listen, you. I've got a job for you. Need you to keep an eye on a certain guy… Don't ask questions, just do as I say, and maybe I won't shoot you in the knee.