Red Dead Revenge

Good morning, merry Christmas, happy new year!

This story is based on the events of "Red Dead Online", though I've made several changes as you'll notice. This story will feature characters from the single player mode, both from Red Dead Redemption 2 and from the first game.

My name is Morgana, and this is my first work published on .

For the matter, perhaps some of you will find it weird that I use words in a slightly different manner than you've grown used to, such as "civilised" rather than "civilized". That's so because I'm of russian nationality and learnt English in Europe, videlicet in UK, where I live.

Since Red Dead Redemption 2 is a game set in US, I'll try to make sure I get it (US English) right with the dialogues and in-universe texts, such as books and letters, however I'll not do the same for out-universe writing, namely the narrative itself.

As much as I'd rather keep a consistent pace with updates, I'll gladly favour quality over quantity, meaning in order to keep consistent quality I'll not force myself to write the next chapter just for the sake of updating. If you expect shorter chapters/quicker updates, perhaps this story simply is not for you. If like myself you expect longer chapters which prioritise narrative, however, I'm glad to welcome you.

Jesse Colt

Blackwater — February, 1899
"After six months in the Sisika Penitentiary for a crime we did not commit, me and my brother were just about to give up — and when I say give up, I mean we're just about to pick up the nearest weapons and take down as many of these motherfucking guards as we manage to before they kill us. No fucking way I'd let these old men hang me for a crime I did not commit. I mean… I'm not saying we are innocent people. Far from it. Even before that shootout last year, Colt Crew was becoming quite a infamous name, although nowhere close to the likes of the O'Driscoll or the Van der Linde gangs. Fortunately, we'd soon find out that our little plan would not be necessary. Rescued by someone named Horley and his boss, Jessica LeClerk, we now owe them a favour: one I'm not sure I'm willing to do. Revenge was never a thing I really cared about, even during my time in prison. My brother, on the other hand… seems quite excited about it." — Jesse's Journal.

Silence. Darkness. Mud. Rain. Insufferable heat.

Even before she was arrested, Blackwater — or anywhere to the south of Upper Montana River, for the matter — wouldn't have been a first choice for her. The place was at the same time a "civilised" city, ruining the natural beauty of the wild west, and a small western town, mixing Saint Denis-like buildings with mud, rain and people from both worlds, like a grotesque mix of Saint Denis and Armadillo, but a thousand times worse. She hated Blackwater.
Even then, she did not really have a choice. Between doing nothing at their camp or doing nothing in Blackwater, Jesse chose the latter option: mostly because they'd almost ran out of money by now and she wanted to sell a few animal carcasses from the last hunts. It was good, fairly easy money earned honestly for a change.

— How in the world did you kill that thing? — asked the butcher as the young lady walked up to him slowly, careful not to trip and fall under the weight of the cougar upon her shoulder.

— Oh, it wasn't easy, believe me. — Jesse sent him a faint smile. Underneath her white french dress shirt and the black hartell jacket over it, she could still feel the pain from its claws even though the cougar did barely manage to scratch the side of her belly.

— I do. So… — as he spoke, the man availed the carcass for a few moments, then looked up. — It's in very good condition, I see. I can pay you six dollars for it.

— Eight. — she said quickly, putting the carcass down just besides the man.

— Hey, be reasonable. I've already bought that other carcass, didn't I?

— Yeah, but it wasn't a cougar. Besides, I am sure you can get your money back if you sell that pelt to the tailor.

The butcher looked silently at her for a moment, as if trying to figure out something to say. After a few secs, he finally spoke again:

— Look, miss…

— Jesse. — she corrected. — Call me Jesse. No "miss". Please.

— Sure. Jesse. Anyway, yes I can get my money back indeed, but I want to get some good profit from it. I can give seven dollars for it. Not eight.

— Deal. — to be honest, six dollars would not have been a bad profit either. She just enjoyed bartering. Sometimes it even got her more than she'd get other way, like this once.

Though it did not seem like the man appreciated having to make a higher offer than his first one, he was kind enough not to voice his anger. After saying goodbye, Jesse walked away and whistled for her horse to follow her. Despite the dirty and the rain, she was satisfied: she'd gotten nearly thirty dollars this time, and they had enough food at the camp so that they would not have to worry about resupplying anytime soon. That is, unless her brother went nuts again and decided, again, that they were in need of enough ammo to supply an entire army. He did that sometimes.

— Stay here, Providence. — she said, patting her horse as she hitched it to a post just in front of the saloon. The animal was pure white in colour and was small in size in comparison to most horses: it as a genuine pure-blooded arabian horse, its eyes pale blue just like Jesse's own. She'd caught and tamed it as a wild horse at Clay Davies's request, but decided to keep it for herself: it had been worth it, and since then she'd grown quite attached to Providence. Speaking of horses, as she walked up to the saloon Jesse noticed there was no black one around, meaning her brother was yet to arrive.

— Woah, is that a lady? — Her eye twitched in annoyance as she stepped through the door and heard someone's commentary.

— Yep. But don't seem like she agree with meah, ha! Look at 'aer clothes. — Another person, an obviously drunken man, laughed at his own joke. — Hey lady, ya think 'urself a man or what? Walking 'round dressed like that?

Jesse sighed and looked down at her own clothes; aside from the white french shirt and the black jacket, she was wearing a red vest and a small black scarf around her neck. She knew what the man meant: she'd grown used to such comments by now. That, alongside her black big valley hat, the brown trousers and the spurs on her boots was not something many ladies would, or, according to the public opinion, should wear these days. Not that she gave a fuck about what such people thought.

— Hey! She's deaf?! — The drunk yelled.

— Maybe she thinks she's too much a man for you! — The other one said.

'Stay… Calm…' She told herself inside of her head, left hand clenching dangerously close to the black revolver at her belt.

— Stop bothering the girl, you two fools. It's just another of these silly teenage things, she'll come around it eventually. — This time it was a lady who spoke. Despite the way she said it, Jesse was grateful that she'd at least try to make them stop.

— So… Huh… — The barman addressed her as she approached. She could see he was not used to seeing a woman dressed like that, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. — You need something, ma'am?

— A whiskey, please. Thank you. — she smiled at him as he poured her a drink. As she took a sip, Jesse heard a chair dragging on the floor and someone got up.

— Hey lady! I talking to ya! — Unsurprisingly, it was that drunk man again. He seemed closer now. 'If he touches me…' She continued to ignore him and took another sip.

— You deaf or wh-... Bam! — A hand touched her shoulder and forced her to turn around. A second later, Jesse's fist connected to the man's jaw. The drunk stumbled backwards and fell to the floor with a thud.

— Don't touch me, you drunk scumbag.

— Bob! — The man's friend stood up lightning quick and approached to help him get up.

— Shut up! — Bob pushed him away as he managed to stand up and turned around to face Jesse, eyes narrowed in anger. — I gonna kill this bitch.

Henry Colt

— Hello there, Horley — Henry greeted as he walked into Horley's camp. Getting his new rifle at the train station took him a few more minutes than he'd intended to, but it had been worth it: it was a customised Bolt Action Rifle with a scope and several improvements. Definitely worth the wait. Horley looked up pretty quickly, but seemed to calm down the second later. As he closed the book in his hands, the old man spoke up:

— Well, well, well… Look who it is. What took you so long?

As he stepped further close to the fire, Henry was glad to finally be protected from the rain, even knowing he would not stay there for long. Sighing in relief, he pointed at the rifle on his shoulder. The silver components and the gold Art Nouveau details all over it, alongside the brick red wrap and the dark varnish made it definitely a beautiful weapon.

— Sorry. Went to the train station for a moment in my way here.

— I see. A beautiful weapon indeed, Mr. Colt.

Just as Henry muttered a "thank you" to him, someone spoke from behind a tent, interrupting their conversation.

— Who's that, Horley? Who's that bad man? — the man approached the fire with. Henry's first guess was that the man was crazy. At least a little bit more than he'd feel comfortable around.

— Hello, Mr. Jones. — Horley greeted him. He didn't seem to be bothered at all.

— I said who is that? — Mr. Jones continued to approach Horley, but his eyes never left Henry's face. — Is that a kind man? Is that a good man? Is that a bad man? Is it the devil?

With each question, the man seemed to grow more nervous. Henry smirked at the way he kind of whispered the last one and nodded at him.

— Yep, that would be me: Mr. Devil at your service.

The strange man's eyes widened at his response, but Horley simply laughed and spoke again.

— Maybe it's all of them at once. — said Horley, and Henry felt very inclined to agree with him. — Maybe there ain't no devil, and no kindness neither.

That one seemed even more likely to him: no one, even himself sometimes, seemed to be able to predict what he would do next. If he was going to help or rob someone. Save or kill. Perhaps he was just a walking mess.

— You was always a strange one, Horley. — Henry couldn't help but laugh at Jones' words. — How is Mrs. LeClerk?

— About as you'd expect. — Horley responded, his eyes moving to the strange man for a moment.

Jones looked around a few times. His response came quickly.

— I expect a lot. It's mighty bad business.

Growing tired of all the nonsense they were saying, Henry took a seat around the fire and looked up to Horley.

— Horley, why did you call me here? — he asked.

Both men quickly looked at him, as if they'd just noticed he was there. Past the initial confusion, Horley not unexpectedly was the first of them to speak, his eyes moving around as if looking for a cougar nearby.

— Patience. — said Horley. — Where's your sister?

— A sister? Is she a bad woman? Is sh-... — before Jones could go on, Henry quickly interrupted him.

— No, my sister is the closest thing to an angel you'll find on this uncivilised land. — he said, making sure Jones got the message. The response seemed to satisfy him, if the weird, still genuine smile on his face was any indication. — And do not worry, Horley, Jes is around. She wanted to sell a few things to the butcher and then I'll meet her at the saloon.

Horley nodded at him. Jones spoke:

— An angel? I like angels. But me never met one before. Can you please introduce me to ur angel sister, mister? Huh? — as far as he was concerned, Henry would never leave his sister alone with this mad man. Before he could say that loud, Jones continued: — But I've known fine people. Mr. LeClerk was a good man, a-a fine man.

— That he was. — Horley agreed.

— And who's this feller? — Jones asked, pointing at Henry.

— Henry Colt, good to meet you — Henry said, struggling a bit to get up without stumbling into the rain. — I thought you already knew that.

— You even more crazy than Horley — Jones commented.

— Just calm down, Jones. Henry… Well, that's their business.

This seemed to get Jones even more agitated. The old man started walking around the camp, not even seeming to notice the rain.

— Oh, that's the world's business. The world's business is kindness, and gentleness, and, and evil… and, and brutality. — as he said that, Jones stopped and turned around to face Horley. — What else is there, mister?

Horley was eating some meat he'd just finished cooking over the fire as he looked back at Mr. Jones. Henry picked some pre-cooked meat from his satchel and started eating it.

— Oh, there's a whole lot else besides. Like lust and… — Horley paused for a moment to eat some more before continuing — … greed and… stupidity.

— And luck. — Henry spoke up, interrupting them again. — You may be everything else, without some luck you'll not get far.

— Exactly. — Horley agreed with a nod.

— Oh… Mr. Jones is unlucky. — said Mr. Jones, gesturing in a very dramatic way all the while — Jones is stupid. Oh, Jones is old. Oh, Jones has cooked has cooked himself in the sun! I know, I know.

In a sense it was very entertaining to watch Mr. Jones and Horley talk to each other. Even though they were both strange ones, Henry found it to be funny. 'I'm not the most normal people around, either'. He thought.

— Get yourself something to eat. — Horley told him.

— There's fellers need help. — said Jones, ignoring his invite. — Maybe this feller can help 'em?

Both of them looked at Henry. Horley spoke:

— Maybe.

— Sure… — Henry nodded. — as long as there's money involved. Me and my sister don't have a lot of time.

— Yeah, they're, uh… They're on the run. — said Horley.

— That ain't my business. — Mr. Jones replied as he picked a cooked sausage around the fire. — My business is… what they do hereafter. That's my business.

Jones walked around Henry, eyeing him carefully. Henry felt a bit unease, but managed to stay calm. Horley didn't seem to notice, or maybe he simply didn't care, about Henry's uneasy. He continued to speak:

— Well, they certainly need money.

— There's always money. — replied Jones.

That got Henry's attention. As Mr. Jones walked away from him, Henry smiled and spoke up:

— Now we're getting somewhere.

— Money for them is good and… — Jones looked at him again. — Money for them as is not so good. But… — his eyes opened a little more and he walked closer to Horley. — Well, maybe they could… first go see the sheriffs and see what work is afoot? I reckon… Well, for now at least. We might as well try. The sheriff at Blackwater, he needs help.

— Now, wait a second… — Henry interrupted him at that point. Jones was gesturing more than before as he tried to convince Horley that his was a good idea. Horley got up from where he'd been sitting. The Blackwater sheriff was the one who sent Henry to jail. — I'll not help…

— It is not the feller that arrested ya… — Jones quickly spoke in. Henry sent him a puzzled look. Mr. Jones was quick to explain: — That was the marshal. — As a look of sudden realisation showed upon Henry's face at finding out he'd been angry at the wrong person all this time, Jones turned around to face Horley and continued to speak. — The police chief, he's a decent enough feller for all we know. Poor bastard is overrun and… and he don't want old Jones.

Horley sighed and drank some of his coffee. Nodding, he turned around to face Henry as he spoke next:

— There's a couple of other sheriffs that need help. — he made a pause as he started walking around the fire and took another sip. — A feller from Valentine, he's at, uh… the Painted Sky Ranch.

— I know Sheriff Malloy. Annoying fellow, but my sister likes him. — Henry commented.

— Good! So he trusts you already.

— Uh… Not exactly. — Henry told him, at which Horley laughed. — But I did hunt a few wanted people for him, so he does not exactly dislike me either.

— Better than I could've asked for. — Horley nodded. — There's also, uh… There's also the Tumbleweed sheriff's at the Tumbleweed jail and the… Blackwater sheriff, he's at Pike's Basin.

That got a curious look from Henry.

— Why'd the Blackwater sheriff be in New Austin?

— Oh, you'll see. — Horley told him.

At that point, Mr. Jones, who'd been watching in silence so far, spoke up again:

— Maybe that'll show us what kinda feller this is. Go and pay 'em all a call. That's what I reckon.

As Horley bent close to the fire to get some more coffee, Mr. Jones finally turned around and walked away from them.

— I guess we'll see. — Horley agreed.

— Oh, my sister is the good sibling, Mr. Horley. Not me. — Henry replied.

Horley nodded at him and he too began to walk away from the fire.

— Meet me back here after you've seen them.

As Horley distance himself, Henry got up and decided it was just about time to see his sister. It was still raining, but at least it would not take long to reach the saloon on horseback. A few minutes later Henry walked through the door of the saloon, and as he did, immediately he heard the barman yelling:

— Hey! Stop fighting!

Jesse Colt

Jesse did not wait for Bob's income. Rather than that, she bolted forward and feinted a new punch aiming for his jaw. As intended, the man's hands raised to block it. A second later a kick to the stomach made him stumble back, followed by a hard hit to his forehead.

— Hey! Stop fighting! — the barman yelled, but could not get to them as Bob's unidentified friend stopped him.

Bob stepped forward again and sent a punch towards her face. Block. Block. Block. Block. Though she managed to block four of his punches, Jesse knew she'd not be able to keep that for long. She'd miss a block, and even if she didn't, the man was much stronger than her. Her forearms could not stand the pain from his punches for long. So as the next one came, she crouched to the right and spun around underneath Bob's raised arm. A kick to the back of his leg had him forcefully kneeling. A second later Jesse's arm wrapped around his neck. Despite his struggle, it did not take long for the man to stop moving and the lady let his body fall to the floor.

— Bob!

— Do you want some too? Huh? — panting, she spun around to face the other man, who stopped to look at her. She could see a mix of anger and fear in him. His anger probably told him to attack, but the relatable fear of the embarrassment of being beaten by a woman much younger than himself probably kept him cool.

— No, just wanna get my friend and get out of here.

— Sure thing. Tell him it was a pleasure. — laughing at her own joke, Jesse turned around and walked back to the counter.

— Hello there, lady. — just as she took another sip of her whisky, the girl looked around to see her brother smirking at her. — So… Remember what I told you at the camp? About staying out of trouble?

— Oh, shut up Henry. It's not my fault. He started it. — she raised her cup again, but as she did Henry took it from her hand and drank all of the whisky at once. — Hey!

— And about not drinking, too. — her eyes rolled at his words, but Henry didn't seem to care about it. — So… I met Horley and a weird guy. Not really sure about what he meant for the most part… Strange fellow. But they want us to do a favour for them. Three favours, actually.

— Really? And what is it?

— Well, I'm not sure, to be honest. They want us to help sheriffs in Tumbleweed, near Armadillo and near Strawberry, but that's it.

Staring at Henry's eyes, pale blue just like hers, Jesse could not help but feel uneasy at the lack of information. She was used to having little info on what they were about to fight, but it didn't mean she liked it. As she fiddled with her red hair, Henry spoke again:

— Don't worry, we'll be fine. No need to worry, I think it's legal work. We'll be helping the law, after all.

— No, I don't think so. — said Jesse. — They'd be looking for someone else, not random people like us, if it was entirely legal work. Besides… I don't feel comfortable working with people I don't know I can trust.

— Yeah, figured out that much. My guess is that we should help the one near Strawberry first, since it's closer and we have our camp already settled around. Then we move to Armadillo and Tumbleweed.

Jesse nodded in agreement at that.

— You two are gonna drink something? — the barman asked.

— Huh… Yeah, bring me a drink. Beer. — Henry spoke up.

— And I wan-...

— Yeah, I know. You want to go home. Soon. — he interrupted her before she could ask for a drink too. — So… I think we should stay near Lake Don Julio when we move to Armadillo. Fort Mercer is easy to defend and close to both Armadillo and Tumbleweed, though I suspect we'd have to… Huh… Expropriate some other gang, if you get what I mean.

— I get it. I think moving to Fort Mercer would be nice, of course, but I'm not sure we could take it by ourselves. And no offence, but the others are not exactly the fighter type, if you know what I mean. Fighting a bunch of low lives? Okay, they can do it. But not a gang strong enough to keep Fort Mercer.

— Yeah, I agree. Besides, I want to try my new rifle on some jerk from other gang. — Henry smirked at her as he pointed the rifle on his back. — But don't feel like dying in the process. So we look for some abandoned place and stay there.

— That's it. But I have an idea about that little… huh… job for Horley. — Jesse told him, getting more serious. — You see, we could go together and do a job, then another, and another… Or...

— Oh, why am I feeling like I won't like what I hear?

— Shut up, Henry. So… We could split… You go do the job near Strawberry, I go to Armadillo. We take one or two members of the gang with us each. Then we meet again in Tumbleweed. It'll be quicker. What you think?

Henry shook his head negatively.

— I think it's stupid and yo-...

Just as he spoke, a shot could be heard outside the saloon. Then another one. And another. Screams and people running. Someone stumbled straight through the door. He was bleeding as he fell to the floor. As she bolted forward to help him, Jesse recognised the man as Bob's friend.

— Hey, hey, you're alright, stay calm… — she tried to comfort him, but it was pointless. The man's injury was not going to kill him unless it was left unattended, but he seemed to have greater concerns at the moment.

— T-They got Bob! Please, they gonna kill him!

— Listen, friend — Henry interrupted her before Jesse could speak. — Whatever your friend did to annoy whoever is shooting outside, he probably deserved it. He is an ass. Get yourself a better friend.

— What the hell are you saying, Henry?! — Jesse yelled at him in anger.

— It's not our problem, Jesse. I won't risk getting shot for some drunk asshole's sake. — As he said that, Henry took another sip of his beer. — No, thank you.

The man looked at both of them in despair. The people around the saloon were paying attention, but none of them seemed willing to help.

— Well, speak for yourself. I'll be right back — She didn't wait for his answer. The Double Action Revolver came out of its holster as Jesse got up and walked through the door.

— Stop right there, Jesse! Hey! Jesse! — Henry yelled angrily, but she'd not listen to him. — Oh, I'm gonna kill that girl.

Just as she stepped outside, Jesse immediately started regretting her decision. It was not too late yet and she knew that. All it would take for her to be safe again was one step back. One step and she'd be again inside of the saloon, protected from the cold rain and the sensation of helplessness that came with realising that she had no idea of what she was going to fight against. But she wouldn't go back. In a sense, it was indeed too late: it was too late because she'd already made up her mind.

— You there! Com'here, girl! — someone yelled. Jesse turned around and saw a man at his late thirties, black beard and a big hat on his head. No doubt one of the bandits.

Bang! In a blink of an eye, there was a hole right between the man's eyes. Jesse's revolver let out smoke as she ran to take cover. The dead bandit's body fell to the water-covered ground with a splash and two others popped out.

— What the fuck was th-... Bang! Bang!

— Take cover! Someone's firing! — another person yelled as the other two joined their deceased colleague. Bang!

— There! Behind that corner! Open fire!

What came next was mayhem. Jesse managed to take out another one, but at this rate she would not survive for too long. Even with the officers helping her, every second they wasted was precious.

Jesse almost screamed when an officer was hit and fell to the ground just in front of her when he tried to change cover. Bang! Lightning quick, she got out of protection and opened fire. She didn't hit anyone this time, but that was not the point: as their aggressors ran to protect themselves, Jesse managed to drag the wounded officer to behind the wall. He was not dead.

— N-No, leave me, you will… — The man tried to stop her. Jesse's eyes widened as a bandit popped out of nowhere with a Lancaster repeater.

Pow! She flinched and closed her eyes at the shot, but the pain never came. When she looked again, another pow! sound brought her out of her stupor. The bandit who'd tried to shot her was now lying dead on the ground.

— Just in time, right? — she heard her brother's voice speak as another shot was fired.

Sighing in relief, she raised her revolver again and prepared to go back to the fight.

— I thought you didn't care about "a drunk asshole". — Jesse teased just as she managed to hit a man right through his eye.

— And I don't. — Henry replied, shooting someone on the roof of the opposite building. — But I do care about you. Stay here and cover me, I'll get to the roof to get a better view.

The fight went on for several minutes. Every time a bullet was fired, Jesse could felt her heart skip a bit. The wounded officer close to her managed to keep the blood inside for the moment. Speaking of officers, only three of them were still fighting. But the shootout was finally over. The remaining outlaws were hiding inside of a building.

The door of the building opened and three armed men walked out. One of them was carrying a fourth in front of him. Arm wrapped around the hostage's neck, Jesse could recognise it as Bob, despite the darkness.

— Now listen to me! — one of them yelled. — We are going to escape, and if any of you do anything, I…

Bang! Bang! Bang! Jesse didn't even wait for him to finish. His two surviving partners were now dead too. A shot to each's forehead, and a third one hit the leader's revolver, which fell to the ground before he could even think about shooting Bob.

Pow! A rifle shot whistled very close to her ear. As Jesse turned around to see what happened, another outlaw - who somehow managed to sneak behind her -, whose chest was not open with a hole, fell to his knees and then fully to the ground. On a rooftop, Henry waved and then disappeared behind a brick wall.

— Holy shit…! — the leader of the outlaws, now really the last one of them, quickly raised his hands and let go of Bob. — Wait, wait, don't shoot! Here, I'll let him go, see?

Suspicious of his behaviour, Jesse stepped forward quickly and pulled Bob back with her. She never let go of her revolver, which was aiming for the leader's head.

— T-Thank you, thank you… — Bob muttered. His lower lip was bleeding, but that aside he seemed okay. Jesse nodded at him.

— I'll do nothing! Look, no one is left, alright? P-Please, don't kill me. Just let me go! You'll never hear about me again, I promise! — the leader of the bandits pleaded.

Killing during a shootout was one thing. Jesse could do it. But now that the shootout was over, she'd never kill someone like that. Never in cold blood. She could let him go and hope he would… Pow!

Blood spilt all over her face as a bullet took down the leader of the gang. As she turned around, Jesse was not surprised to see it had been Henry, who now stood just a few steps behind her.

— He didn't have to die. — said Jesse, though it was not exactly a complaint.

— And risk him coming back for revenge? I don't think so. — Henry said. He did not dare letting go of his rifle just yet. — We should move before something else happens. Like more of them showing up or some of the lawmen recognising us.

Jesse agreed with him. After whistling for their horses - with the shootout both had ran away, but fortunately not too far -, both siblings rode back to their camp, which was located in a fairly hidden place somewhere between the Great Plains and Tall Trees. The others were waiting for them. It was time for them to pay the sheriffs a visit.

Thank you for reading.

I don't really know what to say here. I don't know when the next update will come, but as I said, I'll prioritise quality over quantity. Therefore you should not expect regularity from me, although I'll try to keep it updated. If you happen to find some orthographic error, I appreciate it if you let me know.

Good bye.