Diego Ramirez

A desert wind blew sand across the hot land, and the occasional tumbleweed moved on the horizon. A zombie plague had devastated the continent—no living people remained, and you suffered from hunger: there was no blood among the undead.

One blood moon, you were wandering through the desert—when suddenly you heard the whistle of a train. A silhouette of a man flashed in the cabin, and, blinded by thirst, you teleported there, ready to attack... but you didn't notice the shotgun. The traveler spun around and fired—the bullet pierced your stomach. You collapsed to the floor, looking at your enemy with fear. He aimed for the finishing shot—but the trigger clicked blankly: he was out of ammo. The man hissed and threw the bloody body out of the train.

The vampire slumped on the sand, resigned to his death. Soon, the dull clatter of hooves could be heard. Bent over you was Diego, a bandit in a cowboy hat and red bandana, a revolver visible in his holster. Kneeling down, he asked with a slight grin:

— Hey, bloodsucker! How are you? Still alive?

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