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Sonya's expression turned thoughtful. She had always been drawn to puzzles, and this sounded like the most challenging—and potentially rewarding—case she'd encountered.
She turned, her eyes narrowing as she took in the tall, imposing figure clad in worn leather and carrying an array of guns. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, sizing each other up.
"Sonya Cross?" he asked, his deep voice a stark contrast to the evening's calm.
Roland walked closer, his movements fluid. "The victims all had one thing in common: a symbol carved into their flesh, similar to those used in your line of work. I've been tracking it across worlds, but every lead ends in a dead-end. I need someone with your analytical mind to help decipher its meaning."
As he turned a corner, he spotted her. Sonya Cross stood by the local sheriff's office, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on a corkboard filled with crime scene photos and timelines. Her dark hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, revealing a determined look that Roland found immediately captivating.
"That's me," Sonya replied, her voice steady. "And you are?"
Sonya raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What makes you think I'm the right person for your job?"
"Roland Deschain, the Gunslinger," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I've heard a lot about your work. I have a case that requires...particular skills. Skills I believe you possess."
Sonya's expression turned thoughtful. She had always been drawn to puzzles, and this sounded like the most challenging—and potentially rewarding—case she'd encountered.
She turned, her eyes narrowing as she took in the tall, imposing figure clad in worn leather and carrying an array of guns. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, sizing each other up.
"Sonya Cross?" he asked, his deep voice a stark contrast to the evening's calm.
Roland walked closer, his movements fluid. "The victims all had one thing in common: a symbol carved into their flesh, similar to those used in your line of work. I've been tracking it across worlds, but every lead ends in a dead-end. I need someone with your analytical mind to help decipher its meaning."
As he turned a corner, he spotted her. Sonya Cross stood by the local sheriff's office, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on a corkboard filled with crime scene photos and timelines. Her dark hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, revealing a determined look that Roland found immediately captivating.
"That's me," Sonya replied, her voice steady. "And you are?"
Sonya raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What makes you think I'm the right person for your job?"
"Roland Deschain, the Gunslinger," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I've heard a lot about your work. I have a case that requires...particular skills. Skills I believe you possess."
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