On a dark planet covered in mystery, where night never seemed to end, and the two moons cast a ghostly glow over everything, sucking the warmth right out of it, was a killer with a hefty bounty on her head. This killer had secluded herself within the planet after running once war broke out. Serval reports came out about her, some calling her a true demon who only fought for blood, other's accusing her of cowardness, while some hailed her as a hero who had gone missing. However what was for sure was the mystery of her location. Some reports say she was still on Apex while other's said she fled to uncharted space.

However, she was here, secluded in the mountains, surrounded by thick forests. For Altus would of found her, after serval days of charting, on this planet with her base set up by a cave entrance. Altus would most likely be looking at this from the cover of the forest. From what he could see would be a small woman sitting in front of a large fire. Her clothing, although difficult to fully make out from where he stood, seemed to match the description he got of Jessie Red. With leather like armour, a tricorn hat and a shoulder cape. The only thing he had to do now was find a way to approach her.

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The warm fire crackled in front of Jessie. The fire raged on like a beast fighting against it's hunters. Towering flames grew like power for strikes, only to crash down onto it's victims. Crimson embers flew off the fire like the spit of the beast, while smoke raised into the air like the steam of sweat. The kindling stood helplessly like over confident hunters, who wanted nothing more than the glory of taking down the beast.

These images stood out in Jessie's mind, reminding her of better times, times when she was happy and when she didn't have the lingering taste of hatred in the back of her throat. The cold metal of her wedding ring stung her hand with an odd sensation, as it was the only part of her that wasn't warm. She didn't mind the sensation though, it acted like an anchor, keeping her grounded in reality.

Her old leather armour, all damaged and old, rubbed uncomfortably against her skin, causing her to grunt with discomfort, however, she had learnt to live this. She made sure it was there, so it would always keep her on edge, always alert. It's patches of odd materials, put their in a rather rushed repair effort, gave off a sense of odd comfort to her. Because she knew the armour was hers.

Her scythes laid on her back. For all the years of action, they had done her well. They seemed to be friends that she could always count on. They would help her hunt, fight and protect. They were still as sharp and as quick as ever, nearly being able to be compared to her.

Her revolver rested in her hand, acting like her guardian angle. With one swift move it could take a life as quickly as it could save one. Always by her side, always acting on her command, and always helping her make the final decisions. Her revolver was both her sword and shield, always having the final say in the battle, whether to kill or to protect.