Cyberside

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His worn, dusty jacket normally feels like a second skin, but as Taciturn stands at the crossroads overlooking the valley below, he contemplates taking it off. Even as the sun sinks behind him, he can’t help but notice how warm it is.

Unusually so.

It’s likely nothing more than the byproduct of an overloaded network, or perhaps simply a remnant of faulty code. But by any reckoning, something doesn’t feel right. This far out into the Cyberside, details are often overlooked. How many people even know about the sleepy cattle community before him? Nestled within rolling hills, the meager township barely merits a first look, let alone a second. Taciturn supposes that may be precisely the point.

A warm breeze stirs the thin strands of black hair straying from beneath his bullhide hat. With one hand, he pulls the wide brim down to just above his eyes. His other hand rests on the grip of the pistol holstered low on his thigh. As his fingers slide across the polished grain, Taciturn inventories his remaining cartridges, his eyes scanning the heads-up overlay before him. Satisfied with his findings he nods the display away.

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