[b][u]Old San Francisco [/u][/b] [b][u]McCree[/u][/b] [b]McCree walks through the ruined town, looking around. He arrives at a grave in the town cemetery. It reads "[i]John McCree: 1989-2012. Man, Myth, Legend, Outlaw, Husband and Father.[/i] McCree takes off his hat.[/b] "Haven't talked to you in a while Pa. You know, since I went into that portal I thought you wouldn't exist. But hey, can't blame me for trying. I'm confused, and I would ask for your help but I know you wouldn't. You always made me take matters into my own hands, and molded me into a better man. And now I'm surrounded by fake gunslingers and phony lawmen. "Hunters" they call themselves. Hmph, I'll show them, I know you would. I brought you some cigars, your favorite kind." [b]He drops a pack of cigars on the grave and puts on his hat. Shuffling is heard nearby. He quickly turns around, his gun already draw. Fallen: 1 Captian, 2 Vandals, 4 Dregs and 6 Shanks. [/b] "Hmph, target practice." [spoiler]open[/spoiler]