Fighting A Stacked Deck
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How many days had it been?
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Feeling along the cuts he made on the wall beneath his cot he counted fifty-three notches. He had to resist the urge to make another, wasn't time yet.
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Took them about two weeks give or take to get back to "civilization", then he'd been stuffed unceremoniously into this glorified cupboard. That was almost two months ago.
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Well he was pretty sure it was that long, no windows or any natural light. He put a notch up when he received whatever the agents decided to call food that day. Yesterday was a bit of beans left over from his benefactors' lunch. He was lucky yesterday.
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He stared at the slot on the thick wooden door where the meals were pushed through, waiting. God Almighty he wanted something to do at least, he hadn't spoken a word since he last saw John and here he was, still keeping up this stupid plan. Unfortunately, it was the only card that was in his hand left to play.
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He saw men lose their minds in that puto Allende's prisons. Turns out most didn't need torture or threats to talk, just enough time with naught but themselves made even the most courageous go soft, like a river wearing down a stone. He wondered back then how long he could last if he was on the other side of those bars.
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Guess he might find out sooner rather than later.
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Javier, tú nombre es Javier Escuella and you are waiting until just the right moment to break free. You cannot forget. He repeated it inside his mind like a prayer, not risking anything by saying it aloud.
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The sad thing was they weren't even trying to make him talk, they threw him down here for storage like a forgotten tool in the shed. Oh, he knew what his purpose was. When John captured Dutch they were supposed to be executed together, to show that the government wouldn't put up with his kind of vermin any longer. The Fat One, Agent Edgar Ross but Javier preferred his lovely nickname, often jeered to him about Justice and Symbolism and New Ages on the way north, most likely trying to get a rise out of him.
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Javier played the tonto, he was pretty good at acting a fool when he wanted to, looking confused and lost.
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Ross had been all smug self-satisfaction the whole trip, at least until word about Bill's death reached them. The telegram came through the first week he was here and Ross had taken it in his office, just above Javier's cell. Bill had faked a surrender and was shot by that culo Reyes. There was some shouting and the sound of furniture breaking could be heard but to Javier there was only a low ringing in his ears.
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Bill Williamson, that racist pig-headed fool who was less sophisticated than a burro in a dress, the man that Javier threatened to kill more times than he could remember and tried to on at least two separate occasions, dead as dirt.
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He loved him like a brother.
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He should've never vouched for him to Allende, that was a sinking ship he pulled his brother onto and now he was gone. He was a twitch away from breaking down and ruining the play but he damn near bit through his tongue to stop the act from slipping.
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Dutch was dead not long after.
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There was about two or three days that Javier didn't remember right afterwards but far as he could tell he hadn't moved except to eat and relieve himself. He didn't want to think about Dutch right now, that's a ball of yarn he hadn't the patience to untangle.
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This led to Javier's current predicament, he wasn't sure what would happen next. From what he heard from above John had actually been given his family back and been living on his farm, the agents had someone watching them discreetly and reporting back.
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The whole point of the execution was to hang all the former named men in the Van der Linde gang but with only Javier in custody and John on the farm Javier didn't see much benefit in a grandiose show now. His time back in Mexico showed him what a display of power in the right setting could accomplish, Allende's Iron Fist had to be reinforced occasionally, but the question was what were they waiting on for Javier's execution.
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Though the agents hadn't been as talkative as of late. He heard some mutterings about "authorizations" and "bureaucrats" from above, which was odd since they liked to act as if they were "the sole arbiters of the law, acting of the best interests of the common man alone, free of the corruptions of prior institutions".
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Javier swore he heard The Fat One practice that line to himself at least five times last week.
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Javier heard a door open upstairs and stopped his work.
"...don't know why it takes the Army and the Marshals four hours of posturing just to agree to a showtime," grumbled Agent Edgar Ross loudly.
"Well, when you have that much brass in a single space, they have to make an orchestra out of a recital," intoned Agent Archer Fordham.
"They can throw themselves a parade as long as they do their jobs. We will get this unpleasantness over with tomorrow and we can finally move on to bigger and better things."
"Are you sure we can't just apprehend Marston? Surely it would be prudent to-"
"We already talked about this Archer,'" interrupted Ross, "Marston seemed to play the part of the Wandering Crusader, righting wrongs and kissing babies as he hunted down the Van der Linde leftovers. He's endeared himself to the local populace. The risk of a self-interested party trying to interfere is too high for anything but immediate action."
There was a significant pause.
"John Marston dies."
Javier felt his heart stop.
"Are you sure this has nothing to do with Andrew Milton?"
Another pause.
"If you knew him like I did, you wouldn't be asking that. Milton was a machine, there was no challenge he couldn't rise to, no work too low of station, and no hesitation once the course was set. He is the reason we even have this precious agency of ours instead of being glorified bounty hunters. I try to live to his example every day. The Van der Linde problem is like Mozart's Requiem, his final great work unfinished." Ross spoke with a reverence that would make Reverend Swanson's sermons sound like a drunken toast.
"There are multiple reasons why Marston will die tomorrow but in honor of our founder we will do it with precision and detachment. If I was doing this for my own satisfaction, I would have Marston brought in alive, throw him downstairs with the savage without food and after one had feasted upon the other, I would string up the remaining cannibal with nails through his feet and watch him bleed to death at my leisure. Any more doubts you have of me today, Mr. Fordham?"
"No Mr. Ross, you have illuminated me once again with the shining beacon of your wisdom, I strive to be the Aristotle to your Plato."
Fordham's tone now was the closest to outright sarcasm Javier had heard him achieve yet. Quite impressive for a wash rag of a man.
"Quite right, now student of mine review the draft of the speech for the local sheriff. We won't have time after tonight since we're already behind schedule and we must not have any more delays."
"Understood," was Agent Fordham's only response.
Some muffled rustling and a piece of time later the building was as quiet as the grave.
'Well', Javier thought to himself, 'if that's not the sign I'm looking for then I must be blind.'
Javier grabbed his "project" and materials from its hidden spot and approached the cell door. It may have been used as such but was obviously not meant to fulfill that purpose. There was two holes cut into the door, one at eye level for viewing and one along the bottom for his meals and waste. On the other side was a beam of wood set into metal holders acting as a makeshift drop bar, no other lock was seen by Javier when he was first thrown into this hellhole almost two months ago.
Javier's project was no more than two pieces of wood and a torn strip of his blanket tied between them. The wood was part of the slats from his cot which he had broken off, one part kept long and the other worn down to a hook like shape. All together it acted like a fishing rod. Hopefully tonight he would catch his elusive prey. Javier had been thinning his 'hook' bit by bit after each attempt in order to latch the bar properly. He had to be careful until now, if the bar was disturbed or any part of his rod had broken off outside his cell they would they would be able to stop him before he was safe to make his escape. For better or worse he didn't have to worry about a future attempt.
Slipping first his hook, then his line, and finally setting his rod through and along the top opening he readjusted his grip, sweat already making the rod slick and unsteady. Slowly, he lowered the lever until he felt some slack from the line, now he just had to get the hook into position. Flaring out the pole let the hook fall just past the bar and hoping he got the timing right he reversed the motion. There was tension in the fabric. Inch by inch pressure was added to the pole, wood groaning in resistance to the weight. The line was worse off, Javier could hear the fabric trying to unravel itself. There was a sudden change in the resistance of the bar.
¡No!
But there was no sound of the hook falling on the floor. Javier experimentally pushed the rod forward and a second later the bar knocked back into the door softly. It was free of the mount! Without letting go of the pole he used his foot to open the door. The hinges were rusted but by God did it open. With about two feet of clearance, he angled the beam so that its edge was poking out past the opening. Javier grabbed that end while carefully lowering his tool until the other end touched the floor. Javier quickly but quietly made his way out of his cell.
He was free.
Well not quite, he was still hundreds of miles beyond the border inside of a government building, but it was a start. Without a backwards glance he skulked down the hallway into the open two-story main entrance. The only benefit to being stuck in a dark hole for two months was that his eyes were almost as sensitive to moonlight as daylight. In the foyer he quickly surveyed the situation. Empty, most likely dead of night from what he could see through the windows. He spied an old duster hanging on a rack next to the entrance but that was about it. Unfortunately, it seemed that his jailers didn't just leave firearms laying around to his chagrin and Reyes took his favorite double-action revolver while he was tied up.
Coño
Well, he wasn't sure where to start looking for weapons so he decided not to. Experience taught him when stuck in unfamiliar territory it was better to get his bearings rather than stick his nose into every crevice and hope he got lucky. At least the duster would help him look more nondescript, thankfully the Agents hadn't cared to put him in prisoner stripes which would have made traveling awkward. He was just reaching for the coat when paused. What was he going to do? His first instinct was to go find John and warn him about the literal Army coming like a Mexican Paul Revere but although he knew that Beecher's Hope was supposed to be within a day's ride of Blackwater according to John, he'd never been there himself.
'I could just leave.'
Javier considered it, if he stopped to try and find John it could mean his recapture or death and that's if he could convince John's family to leave with him. The faster south he could go before they realized he'd escaped the more likely he could make it back to Mexico, every wasted minute was just going to give his pursuers more of an advantage.
But John saved him. Saved him when he didn't have to. Hell, probably when he shouldn't have. The only reason he had this chance was because they were able to make the Agents think he was a slow Spanish speaking savage, otherwise they would have put him in an actual jail cell. He couldn't let another of his brothers die. Then he remembered little Jack and Abigail.
Mierda
He was probably going to get himself killed.
"Pinche roads, pinche horse, pinche farm!"
Javier was cursing up a storm as he rode his stolen horse hard east toward the sound of gunfire. After stealing a horse from the salon in Blackwater, he followed the signs south towards Manzanita Post. After talking with a trader who was just setting up for the day, Javier learned if he went west instead of south, he would have been at the farm and back already. Why the Hell had John settled his farm in a wasteland? Was he farming dust and rocks? He had put the horse into a fast trot from the post but after turning east booming thunder cracks could be heard from miles away. He was too late. Urging the horse into a gallop he furiously tried to figure out what to do.
He was unarmed and half-starved riding a horse that was going to keel over soon if the foam from its mouth was any indication. He should probably turn back but he had to at least try to do something. There was a stop in the volleys and he feared for the worse, he could see smoke just over the horizon. A few minutes later just as he saw a speck of a building, he noticed what looked like a couple coming his way fast on horseback. He did it! Somehow that bastard John got himself away with Abigail! His jubilation didn't last long however.
"Javier!?"
That was Abigail all right, seemed that the years of farm life had been good to her all things considered. But wearing his father's hat was a boy just growing into a man.
"Abigail! Jack! Are you two alright? Where's John?" Javier yelled out.
Jack, by the Grace of God was he his father's and mother's son face and all, looked unsure and ready to bolt but his mother squeezed his shoulder and urged him to slow. Abigail responded back.
"We're fine but Uncle was killed and John stayed behind in the barn. They said they would let us go if he did. Why is the Army after us? Ain't we done enough just to be left alone?" asked Abigail.
Abigail was trying to hold it together but she looked one step away from breaking down. Javier saw Jack squeeze his mother's hand that was still on his shoulder. Javier spoke quickly.
"The Bureau said it was 'tying up loose ends', listen we don't have much time we need to-"
A salvo of gunshots interrupted him. Abigail screamed John's name and Jack did similar yelling out for his father. Javier was frozen. A few agonizing seconds later it was quiet. It didn't matter how good John was, that sounded more like a firing squad than a shootout. Javier had to get these two safe now.
"Where we you going to go?" Javier asked authoritatively.
Abigail started but was able to respond hoarsely.
"We... we were going to the MacFarlane ranch. It's the biggest farm in the county and the owners are good friends of J- John. He said to go there if we were ever separated or in trouble."
"Good, we need to get you both there now. The Bureau has a history of going back on their word so we have to get to ground, lead the way Jack" Javier tried to be calm but it was hard not to give into the despair.
Jack nodded stiffly and just as Javier was about turn the horse to follow, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His heart sank, men on horseback if he had to guess and they were getting closer. He noticed that Jack and Abigail saw it too. This time he didn't even need to think about his decision.
"Jack get you and your mother out of here now. Get that horse into a gallop and don't stop for nothing, do you hear me? I'm going to try and buy you some time."
"But-" Abigail tried to argue.
"Nothing! Now go!" Javier commanded; he was about to slap their horse if they didn't move soon.
"God Bless you Javier, a gentleman as always," Abigail looked caught between smiling, crying, and screaming all at once.
Jack just nodded solemnly, "Goodbye Uncle Javi"
Javier felt himself grin just a bit even as tears pricked his eyes. The kid remembered that old nickname. It was surreal to hear it said in a man's voice. Jack made his way west while Abigail buried herself into her son's back and helped direct them. Javier watched them go for as long as he could before heard the unit of calvary get closer. He took a deep breath then sighed, supposed he had one last con in him.
Not too long after the cavalry unit of seven soldiers happened on a strange sight. What they saw was a Mexican man shirtless riding backwards on a horse. The horse seemed to be "wearing" the Mexican's shirt and duster around its neck while walking slowly forward. The unit leader brought them to a halt before this unexpected event. Javier smiled to himself as he heard them stop, they took the bait and now he had to play this one for as long as possible.
This was The Lost Loco Non-Local, a classic.
"You! Stop! Who are you?" Javier assumed it was their commanding officer since he was facing the other direction.
Javier responded as if surprised, "God! Is that you?" he turned his head skyward and raised his hands as if in prayer, "If this is about the large seamstress' pet pig, I could not help myself! She was so beautiful and so heavy and I was so hungry, please forgive your sinful servant!" He started mumbling prayers in Spanish loudly.
"No, you dullard! I am Second Lieutenant Patrick McReary of the United States Army Cavalry 2nd Regiment! Now turn around and identify yourself!"
This McReary sounds like just the type he could play off for a while. Javier kept his shocked expression while turning around as much as his position would allow.
"Oh! ¡Buenos dias! I am known as Alonso del Tonto, traveler of the blandest of places! How may I assist the Second Lieutenant of the Second Cavalry of The Second Army?"
McReary for his part went from annoyed to confused and annoyed, "What? No, there is no 'Second Army'. There is only one Army."
"Most my sincere apologies Lieutenant, when you said you were the Second Lieutenant of the Second Regiment, I just assumed you just really enjoyed the number two," Javier rendered a crisp and impressive salute. With the wrong hand of course.
McReary returned the salute more out of reflex than anything, not sure whether he should be insulted or introspective. Evidently, he decided to ignore it and ask a different question, "Have you seen a young man and adult woman come this way? Their farm was recently attacked by a gang and we are trying to find the survivors."
'Ah, so that's what they are going with,' Javier thought darkly. 'Since John is popular within the county then the Bureau can't just kill him, but they can take "take in" John's wife and son to protect them from the "bandits".'
"I am afraid to say that I did not see such persons and I would know. I have seen eight birds, three deer, and one particularly lusty looking jackalope on the road this morning but besides you good gentleman there have been no other travelers today."
A murmur of "lusty jackalope" could be heard from the men behind the Lieutenant but the officer looked skeptical.
"Well thank you for your ... 'assistance' but we must be on our way, you will follow us quickly to the trading post, there are still bandits about and we can't let civilians get caught in the middle. We will escort you there to keep you safe."
'Stopping wandering eyes from seeing the massacre while spreading out to capture the witnesses, clever. Unfortunately, I won't be able to slow them down enough with Jack and Abigail riding double, let's spin some yarn.'
"My most gratuitous of thanks my good man!", Javier replied jovially, "but we can't go back west, there are ghosts back thataway."
"Ghosts," McReary stated drolly.
"Of course señior, the ghosts of the Skinner Brothers gang are hiding in those woods! They wish to strip the innocent of their souls in death as they did with their flesh in life. Good honest men such as yourselves would be prime game to such diablos! That's why I am facing backwards, to prevent the ghosts from sneaking from behind as such villains are want to."
"And your horse is wearing your clothes because?"
"Ahhh! Shhhh! The ghosts, while vicious are not the smartest of predators. My poor caba would never scare them away unless she appeared to be the most dangerous of game. Man like you and me mi amigo. In fact, I say we should all double up just in case. Those ghosts shall think twice if such strong men were so prepared."
To give Javier credit some of the men seemed spooked and the dimmest of the bunch were grouping up and talking quietly. The Lieutenant seemed to run out of patience just then.
"Enough! I don't care what you think you have seen we are not riding double and we are not clothing our horses. We ARE going to get moving quickly and you WILL follow or you will be tied to your horse, do I make myself clear?"
'Well, that's going to be as far as I can take it, only one option left.'
Javier sighed, "At least let me give you my blessed incense to ward them off. Since you are the leader, they will hunt you first."
"As long as you get moving, I don't care if you give me Christ's own blood, just hurry it up." McReary started calling his men back into formation while Javier sidled up to him while reaching in his coat for some stray lint. It was unfortunate that McReary's gun was on his opposite hip. Javier dropped the random debris in the officer's open hand. The Lieutenant turned back to face his hand.
"Incense? This is just a bit of-" the rest was a gurgle as a knife found its way through the bottom of his chin and into his skull.
Thankfully the cavalry knife was on Javier's side. While McReary was shaking in his death throes and the men were just realizing that something was wrong Javier quickly reached for the service revolver and cocked back the hammer. He aimed in the general direction of the closest soldier.
BANG
...
He missed.
A few of the horses, including his own, reared at the sudden noise and some of the quicker ones were reaching for their guns. He already felt lightheaded from the rush of the coming gunfight and there were six men still able to reach their guns. Javier could only hope to have five more shots. As the horse came back down, he aimed for the man he had already missed, held his breath, and tried to focus. Time seemed to slow ever so slightly as the world became a matter of black and greys, devoid of color. Pull the hammer back, squeeze with only the pad of his finger, and keep his wrist steady.
BANG
Dead center if the flinch was any indication. Five to go.
The next closest was reaching for his slung rifle when Javier lined the sights upon him.
BANG
His shoulder erupted in a spray of cartilage and blood; it would have to do. Four now.
The next two were more than 10 feet away and Javier didn't want to risk missing so he aimed for the biggest targets.
BANG
BANG
It always was a terrible thing to kill a defenseless animal. The first horse had lowered its head in front of its body and Javier got lucky with a shot to its brow. The other had been in the middle of rearing so he aimed for its chest and it was aimed true. One horse went down immediately while the other fell back upon his rider. Two were left with one bullet.
The last two men were both the least and most prepared. One had been thrown from his horse when the first shot went off. He hadn't moved from the ground. On the other hand, the last one was close to having his own sights on Javier. Javier's lungs felt close to collapse, his head was swimming, and he heard the screams of the ocean in his ears but this was it. He just needed to make this last shot count and he could make it out alive. He saw fear in the cavalryman's eyes.
'Serves you right you murdering pendjo.'
CLICK
...
Turns out McReary only had five bullets chambered, not six.
BANG
Nevertheless, the sight of a gun drawn upon him with his fellow soldiers being shot in succession made the last man jerk when he pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Javier's horse in the leg causing the beast to fall on its side hard.
SNAP
Javier knew that wasn't just his horse's leg that was broken. A second later Javier felt indescribable pain shooting from below his waist. Combined with every other ache and pain along with the stress Javier's whole world turned from grey to red and then to black. He didn't even have the chance to scream.
Javier first noticed he was conscious when instead of breathing air he was choking on water. Panic consumed him as he tried to move away from the water but crumpled back down as soon as his hips twisted to gain purchase from the cutting pain. Finally, as black nothingness started surrounding his vision someone yanked his head by his hair and sweet air filled his lungs as he hacked up the remaining liquid.
"Mr. Fordham I do believe I owe you a dollar, turns out grease and water do not mix after all."
Mierda
"Mr. Ross, we do not have more than a handful of minutes, besides it's loathsome to play with one's food."
"Patience my young ward, there is a notable difference between playing and being thorough. Which is something we have OBVIOUSLY neglected to decern in this particular instance. Now then Mr. Al-on-so del Ton-to, how about you tell us how you learned English so quickly."
Javier didn't respond, he was too weary to think of any clever plans or biting words, he just wanted to stop the pain he was suffering through. This was not the answer that the Agents wanted. Ross started grinding his foot into the break in his thigh.
"Aarrgh!"
"Who helped you escape? Where are they now?" asked Ross fervently while relieving the pressure, there was a nasty gleam in his eye that promised more pain.
Lighting coursed through Javier but he still could not muster the strength to speak. He hadn't been in such pain since his "treatment" from Fussar's men back in Guarma. Ross was raising his foot back into place when Fordham spoke up.
"Mr. Ross, we have only one question that needs to be answered right now, if you will allow me?"
"By all means Mr. Fordham, be my guest."
Fordham lowered himself to eye level with Javier and spoke with dispassionate calmness.
"Mr. Escuella, I know you can understand me. I must commend you on your deception and resourcefulness. For three months you uttered not a word unprompted and caught us with our metaphorical pants down with not only your escape but also nearly taking down a small cavalry unit practically unarmed. Such discipline is rare, especially in one with your background so I will be frank with you. You are going to die today but I will make you a deal; answer me just one question and it will be relatively painless I promise. A man of your caliber shouldn't have to suffer unnecessarily, you do not have to fight anymore."
Javier heard Ross snort in the background but the both the Agent and prisoner ignored it. Javier had enough, there was no more chances, he just wanted it over with. Javier felt his spirit breaking along with his body.
"A-ask… just ask already."
"The Savage does speak!" laughed Ross with dark humor. Fordham shot him a glare and returned his stare back to Javier. If Javier thought Fordham could feel human emotion, he would have thought the Agent looked almost sympathetic.
"Where is Abigail and Jack Marston?"
…
"They…"
'Just say the MacFarlane Ranch and it will be over'
"They went…"
'Think of it as confessional, just two words and you will be free of sin'
"They went where?" asked Fordham patiently.
'… a gentleman as always … -bye Uncle Javi …'
'And all it would cost him was his Soul.'
"With, with a man…"
"A man?" questioned Fordham with an eyebrow raised.
"A man," Javier confirmed, "Ross knows him… the same man who helped me escape."
Suddenly Ross was in his face, "Who?"
And then Javier smiled broadly, "Rip Van Fucking Winkle."
Ross' face went scarlet with rage, "You misbegotten son of a-!"
"Sirs!" came a voice from somewhere behind him, "we need to start now or the crowd will riot, the men are getting more and more anxious by the minute."
Ross took a deep breath, held it in, then released it. He spoke over Javier head, "Yes Corporal, the prisoner has just been given his final rites. We are coming out."
To Javier he said, "Since you think of yourself as a jester, its fitting that we get you to a stage for your last joke."
Both Agents took one of his arms and dragged him through the door, Javier was too focused on the pain caused by his dragging foot to notice his surroundings. When he could next think he had a noose around his neck while his hands were being tied behind him. He recognized Blackwater belatedly but that could be due to the massive crowd who were near screaming for his blood, it seemed that the whole town came out for his execution. Javier tried to feel honored. Balancing on one foot, he only heard snippets of Ross' speech over the roar of the mass of well-wishers and the blood rushing in his ears.
"The last surviving member of the Van der Linde gang and de facto leader, Javier Escuella is guilty of…"
Javier, while nearly falling over was kept in place by the noose, which he thought was odd by could not understand why.
"… most recently led a revenge fueled massacre on the local farm Beecher's Hope to murder the reformed John Marston with Mr. Marston's family still missing. The Bureau with the help of the Second…"
Javier had seen a few hangings in his time, and almost always the rope would have enough slack to reach halfway or more down a man's back so the sudden stop would quickly snap a neck. The only reason it would be taught before swinging would be…
Madre de Dios
Javier's eyes widened in horror and turned to Ross just as the speech was ending, "… and since Mr. Ecsuella does not speak English, we will not ask for any last words and conclude this horrid business. May God forgive you because no one living or dead shall. Corporal." Ross nodded to the left of Javier and spared a glance to the soon to be hanging man. The Bastardo smiled.
Javier felt his body fall all too briefly before the rope dug into his neck. Forget torture this was beyond anything so relaxing. His eyes were going to explode. He kicked and spasmed regardless of his injuries to no relief. He didn't know that such agony could exist on Earth, surely this kind of anguish was reserved for the worst of sinners in Hell. His last thought was to wonder if this was how his uncle felt while being eaten by the pigs. Then nothing.
Javier saw only white when he opened his eyes. The earth was shaking underneath him and cold blades whipped around his head. He was in a land of snow and ice when he realized something important.
"I guess Dante was right after all"
While only slightly surprised that his actions would lead him to the lowest of the Circles, he was startled when an almost familiar voice spoke up from behind.
"Right about what?"
Javier spun around, finally noticing that there was no earthquake but rather he was riding on horseback, and saw a mountain of a man. This man was wearing a warm dark blue coat and a fledging beard that threatened to one day grow into an unmanageable mess of hair. But this couldn't be right, he didn't belong down here this low with Javier.
"Arthur?"
A/N: Some 9K words and just over a year later we are finally done with the prologue. To make a long story not so long I started this just before I moved across the country during the election (which was a great time to start a project as you can tell). I've been sitting on a third of this chapter for about 10 months while trying to type it out on my phone which if you tried using the fanfiction app for Android you know my pain trying to draft and edit anything. Finally, I just decided that enough was enough and I made myself sit down for two days and knock out this chapter and I feel gratified/embarrassed with the results. Gratified with how it came out and embarrassed that it took so long to do so.
Mostly I'm surprised anyone follows this story, time travel fics are pretty common so I'm guessing you were just hoping to see Javier get some of the spotlight for once like I was. That's how this fic actually started, I got tired of trying to find a story centered around Javier and then decided to make my own. With blackjack. And hookers. Nothing against any of the other protagonists but I felt that any time travel story would just undermine the narrative if they were the focus. Both Arthur and John have great arcs the ultimately end with redemption/sacrifice that a second chance would make that feel hollow. Jack could be interesting but he's just too much of a blank slate that I would be afraid that I would convert him into an OC before I could realize it.
At the risk of being a hypocrite I tried to make Javier's redemption a jumping off point for his journey. While arguably possessing good moral character, Javier deferred too much to Dutch's leadership when he needed to take personal responsibility not only for Blackwater but also for everything that comes after. Here's my hot take, Javier is the Zuko of RDR2 but instead of rising to the challenge he fails to find his true self. Hell, Hosea is basically the Uncle Iroh of the group. Does that make Dutch Ozai? I guess we'll see.
So going forward these author notes are going to function as one part writing journal/one part Q&A/one part response piece. These notes are NOT necessary to follow the story and from here on out can be skipped completely. You won't miss anything by doing so (which is how I feel about A/Ns in general, show don't tell.) My goal is for every chapter to be around 4-5K per chapter depending on the content from now on with one update a month at least. Even if I don't get any more followers, I plan on to keep writing on long as there is something interesting to say so thank you to everyone who stuck around and if you are new then I hope you have as just much fun reading along as I do writing this story. I am huge proponent of positive and negative criticism so feel free to toss your two cents this way via either review or PM.
And without further ado, the reviews (I still can't believe people reviewed this story.)
NightlyRowenTree:
Hope you liked this chapter as well.
SpecterXCove:
I always found beginnings to be easy personally, here's that more you were looking forward to.
The Coffee Daddy:
Well did I exceed your expectations? Your review helped kick my butt into gear along with the others.
Until next time – Jazz0man