Before I begin, I'd like to start that I have literally no clue where this is going.  I'll just start writing random stuff down and see if anyone will actually be able to read this incomprehensible mess of words.  I apologize to Ace in advance.

When the doors to the Saloon swung open, all talk stopped.  The bartender looked up from the drink he was pouring as a shadowy silhouette walked through the doorway and stood in the entrance.  The drink slowly overfilled and the patron looked up pleadingly at the bartender to stop pouring, but this particular customer was a total wimp and he was too scared of the bartender's eye patch to say anything.  The bartender had an eye patch, by the way.

The figure was a muscular woman who was wearing purple chaps with a bright orange leather coat over a tie-die Woodstock shirt.  Her cowboy boots were a sickly shade of lime green, and she had on a massive baby blue cowboy hat that makes college mascots hide their faces in shame.  At her waist were two six-shot revolvers, and she wore a giant sword on her back that makes JRPG characters go green with envy.  As everyone in the saloon gaped at her crazy getup, she walked up to the bartender and ordered a gallon of his finest alcoholic beverage.

The bartender scowled and gave her the evil eye.  He did not take kindly to hippies, and this woman appeared to be an adept tree hugger.  Without stopping from pouring his pathetic wimp customer's drink, he grabbed a gallon of his worst beer and shoved it at the woman.

"That'll be fifty thousand rubles," he told her.

"That's an awfully large amount of cash," the woman replied in a very heavy southern drawl, "I hardly reckon I can afford it.  Name's Ace, by the way."

"I don't care for your name, only that you pay me then get out," the bartender replied, "I don't much appreciate your horrible sense of fashion in this fine establishment."

Ace looked around at this particular "fine establishment".  The walls were permanently stained black from the amount of gunfights that go on regularly.  The bar was covered in what appeared to be blood, tears, broken glass, and beer from the pathetic wimp's drink.  All the men in the saloon had some form of injury, from broken limbs to a toothless old man in the corner who had no arms or legs.

"I don't have the money," Ace replied, "But I'll duel you for it."

"How about I just kill you instead?  Yarr!" the bartender replied.  He was also a pirate.  He swept aside Mr. Pathetic Wimp's drink and pulled out a gun.  Ace was too fast, however, and she had already drawn both her revolvers and loaded all twelve shots into his eye patch.  Unfortunately, the pirate's eye patch was made of Kevlar, so the bullets were not very effective.

The pirate took aim at Ace, but her fashion sense inflicted blind upon him and he missed all of his shots.  Ace then drew her gigantic sword and sliced the bartender's pirate head off.

Ace looked at the beer and realized how low quality it was.  She tossed it over her shoulder emotionlessly and headed out of the saloon.  Someone called her name and turned.  Mr. Pathetic Wimp was running towards her carrying the gallon of beer that Ace had tossed away, which was now completely empty.  He had already drunk all of hit.

Ace recognized Mr. Pathetic Wimp.  "Aren't you Nathan Drake?" Ace asked him.  Drake tried to reply, but he was so drunk that she couldn't understand the response.

"I'm sorry, pardner, I ride alone," Ace responded as she swung up onto her horse.  Drake looked up at her pleadingly and muttered some more incomprehensible mumbling.

"I never visit the same place twice, so I'll never see you again" Ace said, staring regally into the sunset, "I will ride on forever."  With that she spurred her horse and rode off through the desert into the sunset, with a drunken Nathan Drake stumbling after her, shouting incomprehensibly.


Wow, that had even less point and drive then I thought it would at first.  Oh well, enjoy your story, Ace!