The Black Wolf
"This whole thing is pretty much done. We're more ghosts than people." – Morgan to Sadie Adler.
Arthur Morgan always knew he would never live a peaceful life, nor would he die a peaceful death. He wasn't a strong deer that only defended itself when its life was in danger, he was the black wolf that prowls the wilds of nature and lashes out against everything in his parth. He's robbed good people for no other reason than they happened to cross his path while on the road. Entire stores across the east and west have been broken into, burned down, vandalized, and even robbed at gunpoint just because he was short on cash. Dead or Alive bounties had been placed on his head in four counties and each bounty hunter sent after him was never heard from again. The Black Wolf they call him and woe to those who cross his path.
Yet like all predators, there would be none to mourn him when he finally passed on from this life; more likely to rot in hell with other wicked men. Still, in these final moments when he had the choice between going back for some money and making sure his son of a bitch best friend, he chose to do the right thing.
"Arthur, you're my brother," those words were to kind for him, they held too much respect for the rotten murderer he had become ever since coming down off that god forsaken mountain.
"I know, now get the hell out of here!" he shouted back, drawing his two black iron Schofield Revolvers with their gold engravings and ebony grips.
The Black Wolf fought, like a cornered animal that had nothing left to lose in this life, and these simple sheep men dropped like flies. He'd fought and killed just about every legendary gunman and women in the area, hunted down just as many legendary animals, hijacked five trains by himself, and fought his way out of bad situations more times than he could count. So if he was gonna go out, then there was no way in hell he was gonna make it easy for this sniveling bastards!
"Common you sonova bitches, I'm right here!" Arthur roared as he stood up from behind the rock he'd taken cover behind, the world slowing down around him as he mentally marked several men foolish enough to catch his eye.
Twin revolver barrels boomed like thunder six times each and six Pinkerton men fell to the ground dead, holes blown through their chests. Each revolver was reloaded not five seconds later and Arthur scrambled to another rock, dodging a wave of bullets that came his way. Almost a year of being shot at by these wannabe gunmen and not a one of them could hit the broad side of a bard! There was movement out of the corner of Arthur's eye, something he wouldn't have seen if he hadn't changed positions, and a smirk seemed to form of his lips.
"I got ya now, Black Lung!" that dumb bastard never was good at keeping his mouth shut.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
It was a little overkill perhaps, maybe even a waste of precious ammo, but damn did it feel good to fill that lying, cheat, betraying bastard full of so much led that you could hardly even recognize his face! This sack of shit had whispered poison into Dutch's ear at a time when the man was having a mental breakdown! He was the reason so many of their group were either dead or now on the run!
"You're cornered Mogan, come out with your hands up and you won't be shot!" on of the Pinkertons yelled from down below as Arthur reloaded his weapons, only to find he had enough bullets left to completely fill one of them; although there was still that stick of dynamite he had left.
"Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me?!" Arthur shouted back, fumbling around for a match but found they were all either soaked or worthless.
"Last chance Morgan, toss out your weapon and surrender!" the same poor bastard shouted, signaling his men to get out from behind their cover and form a firing line; all their guns pointed at the rock Arthur was hiding behind.
A smirk formed on Arthur's lips, "Alright Pinkerton, here it comes!"
With what little strength he still had, Arthur trew the stick of dynamite right at the line of men as he dove out to the left of the rock. This was gonna be a one in a million shot, something you only ever read about in books.
"Oh shi-!"
BANG!
BOOOOM!
They were either blown back or blown to pieces, but Arthur just lay there and let the heavy rain wash over him. This was it, this was the end of the Black Wolf, and he couldn't rightly complain with all things considered.
Thud
The sound of a cain hitting stone rang through Arthur's ears and seemed to send a bolt of lightning through his body.
"Get up, you're no use to me dead." the last thing Arthur saw, before the blackness claimed him, was a pair of bright red eyes.
The Black Wolf wasn't done yet.
I'm not gonna lie, I've spent the better part of the last few weeks playing nothing but RDR 2 and haven't had much desire to write anything while doing so. However, now that I've beaten the hell out of that game, this little idea popped into my head. I don't expect it to go much further but I just had to get it out here. So R&R if you would be so kind.