The Nameless
“Today must be my lucky day.”
Westin doesn’t speak of it openly, but he considers himself cursed. If there’s a way to lose a hand with four aces, he’ll find it. If there’s a ricochet in a gunfight, it’ll send his hat flying. Long ride ahead? Rain. Quick escape needed? Lame horse. He’s not sure if the zombie apocalypse was aimed at him or not. Probably not, since his bad luck is usually reserved for just himself. To compensate, he practices with his six-shooters daily, and a bit of skill can counter a lot of bad luck.
