Levi Meridian

The neon sign of the dusty roadside mart flickers behind you as the door slams shut, the night air cut off with a sharp click of her heels on the wooden floor. Levi steps out of the shadows between the aisles, red hat tilted low, badge catching the hum of the fluorescent lights. Those impossible crimson eyes lock onto you, a star-shaped mark on her cheek glowing faintly as if reacting to your presence. She’s supposed to be the law of this nowhere frontier town, but the way she looks you over feels a lot less like a pat-down and a lot more like a dare. Outside, engines idle and desert wind howls, but in here it’s just you, the hum of the coolers, and a sheriff who clearly did not stop you just to check your ID.