(Chapter 2: Dawn of the Marston Gang)
The location was Blackwater, it was around Ten in the morning. Douglas Mulligan, the leader of the BlackJacks, had made his way from across the Grizzlies and down into West Elizabeth. The rest of his gang continued to travel down, the best members of the gang followed with him about an hour later. Mulligan now sat in an office, speaking with Agent Archer Fordham.
"I am Douglas Macintosh, I am a bounty hunter from West of the Grizzlies Mountains over in Ambarino. I have a special squadron of folk in which help me out, we are the best in this rising state of civilization. I have some news for you." Douglas Mulligan spoke, giving himself a disguise last name for now. He didn't know if the newly formed FBI would have a record of him just yet.
"What is the news you bring me, this better be important Mr. Macintosh. I suggest you not to bore me." Archer Fordham responded, smoking a cigar.
"The Marston family, I know you've heard of them. Infamous outlaw, John Marston, slain at last by your previous superior and now you're here at the top. What if I had told you that his son was up to no good in New Austin?" Douglas said with a smirk, Archer's eyes widened.
"I'm pretty sure the little Marston runt would learn by now, his old family with the Van Der Linde gang came to an end. Mr. Ross had most of the gang killed off, Dutch is dead, John is dead. The only one we don't have is a woman by the name of Sadie Adler. So far we've let Jack to run on his own, he has no gang. The remainder of the Van Der Linde gang is lost to history, there is no telling where they all have gone. I don't think Jack will…" Archer's response was interrupted.
"Jack Marston, related to the strange disappearance of Edgar and Emily Ross. Folk have gone to that house over by Lake Don Julio to congratulate Edgar Ross on vanquishing John Marston, only to see some sort of John Marston clone standing before them at the front door. Newspaper article from last year in 1914, I believe Jack Marston has killed your superior. Now he roams freely, I can help you with that. Put a bounty on his head, I'll turn that bastard in." Douglas promised darkly.
Archer Fordham smirked at his new found bounty hunter in whom was secretly an outlaw from the West, he dug into a nearby cabinet and pulled out a double barrel shotgun just for Douglas Mulligan.
"See it done Mr. Macintosh, Jack is the last enemy that shall be destroyed." Douglas smirked deviously and walked over into the doorway before facing Archer one final time before heading out.
"John is gone, now we will destroy another monster, to justify our wages."
Douglas then left Blackwater Town Hall and made his way into the actual town, he would wait for his elite members of the BlackJacks to arrive. As the man in black strolled into town, he noticed a paper boy standing by a street light.
"Get your weekly Blackwater ledger here, weekly newspaper right here!" the paper boy called out, Douglas approached the adolescent and payed for the newspaper. He decided to read the paper as he waited for his gang elites to arrive.
"Here ya go, sir." The paper boy spoke as he handed the newspaper to Douglas, Douglas walked a few feet away and leaned against a brick wall. He opened the newspaper and began to skim through articles until he found something of interest.
Douglas found something of interest after seeing something about a big fighting scene over in the city of Saint Denis, it was always in the ledgers and papers. Although some fights were rare, a deathmatch would be fought during some occasions. The article would read as follows:
Saint Denis Pit Fighting #1469
After an impressive showing at the most recent show
The Gambler (Real name: Jack Marston) is going up in the ranks.
He seeks to fight against the champion, undefeated from day 1: Bill Pierce.
After "The Gambler" defeated a two year veteran and a massive brute from the Bronx, he surely seems to be the best contest for Pierce in recent weeks!
"Found you." Douglas said with a smirk as he dropped the cigar to the ground, not bothering to put it in any sort of trash can. Like many others, Douglas gave no shit about society or civilization.
About ten minutes passed by before three more riders shown up. Nicholas Lanza, Jake Lanza, and Shaw Jackson. All black clothing for the exception of a white stripe around the bottom of their hats, considering how massive the gang was. Three elites and the leader did mean a whole lot, Jake had something he'd like to call "a special weapon" in a bag in which was stowed on the rear of the horse. The four BlackJacks began to ride out to Saint Denis, it wouldn't take them long. As for the rest of the BlackJack gang, they were riding down from the Grizzlies. Around one hour away from Ambarino now, a few of the elites were wondering why they needed to move so much to the East.
"Hey, Mulligan!" Nicholas Lanza asked from third in line, they rode in a straight line formation.
"Yeah, Nick?" Douglas asked loudly, patting his shire on the side of the bulky neck.
"I've been wondering why we had to move so far to the East, I'm gonna miss those glory days back in Missouri. All the great times we have had, nobody knew us. We always conquered the law and even the Pinkertons in some circumstances."
Douglas smiled and then responded, a variety of reasons had sent the BlackJacks towards the East and the East Coast if they got pushed any further.
"Well, the law was starting to catch up on us. More heists, and robberies turned into set ups. That big ass twister ruined everything, destroyed the entire town and left us with almost nothing. We was lucky to even steal those stagecoaches, old man Jonas was killed by the law and then I had to become a new leader. I must admit, I've only been in this leadership position for a few days, my father served in the military. Never returned since The Great War broke out."
There was a momentary pause before Jake entered the conversation from 2nd in the line formation.
"The World War is still going on, we can hope for America to get involved. That would mean that the law turn their attention from our actions."
"I forgot to mention, I burned down some home. Two people lived there, John Marston and Abigail Marston. Both are dead, John was taken out by the FBI back in the year of 1911. Abigail supposedly died last year, their son is the last in line." Douglas responded with a smirk on his face, taking the subject away from why the BlackJacks had to leave. Jake then spoke again.
"The Van Der Linde Gang, John, his wife, and their son was in the same gang. I got a paper, back in 1899, I was then only eighteen years old. Pinkertons tailed them everywhere they went until the inevitable end. Everyone thought John would be the last enemy after Dutch was killed."
"Then Edgar Ross retired from the FBI, it was formed a few years after the Van Der Linde gang came to an end. He retired to some place, Lake Don Julio. Jack Marston would begin his redemption path, he killed Ross, and his poor wife." Douglas spoke. Shaw would then speak for the first time on their ride towards Saint Denis.
"Why did you burn down Jack's old home over by Blackwater? Kicked over the crosses too, downright disrespectful. I will not question your authority over the gang, I'm curious as to why you did such an act."
"It is a long story, I don't want our name as outlaws to be the first thing people think of us. We don't need the law on our ass the first few days we get here, I know the fire will get Jack frantic. Now I took up a bounty hunter disguise background, if we turn in the last of the Marstons and the last of the Van Der Linde Gang. Our praise will be legendary, we will be hailed as heroes and we will receive money. I grew up as a poor boy, in a poor family. I needed money and I was tired of the constant slandering from my peers, the taunts and all the brutish behavior. I lost friends for having no wealth, I lived in a damn cabin until my teenage years. I joined in the BlackJack Gang to receive wealth from the heists. I would give to the poor, I would give to my family. I would give to all of you, in whom joined after me."
"We had a shit ton of money, all of those heists done us well. All of those raids done us well too, the first thing we should've done is bought ourselves many acres of land and build two mansions. Large mansions too. I pictured a large clearing at the bottom of a mountain, so peaceful and our gang could have become one large family. Instead of a family, we could have been a dynasty!" Nicholas Lanza said out in slight anger. All of the money that the BlackJacks had, we gone too.
"We did have more money than we needed, the gang just kept growing and growing and eventually we needed more and more cash. I would have paid off our bounties, then go and buy a chunk of land… However a tornado ruined my plans. Those minutes when all of us were huddled in a basement had to be the most uncomfortable thirty minutes of my life. To make matters worse, the money was all gone. I'm afraid we shall all have to face the wrath of the law once more, everyday. I am concerned, concerned for the future of all of us. Thirty years, thirty years of this gang. We are survivors so far, through the absolute worst, we've prevailed. We've divided, and we have conquered. We have seen members hang and sway in the wind by the dreadful noose, we have brought wars to Pinkertons. Now, the FBI is upon us."
The other three fell silent after the speech of Douglas, Douglas had been second in command of the gang for the longest time. His uncle, who many named "Old Man Jonas," had began the gang back in 1885. In the year of 1885, Jonas Clark was only thirty years old. Jonas met his demise around two months back, he was sixty years old.
Douglas Mulligan was second in command since he had risen to the occasion, he was born in a poor family and was living in a log cabin. As the gang began to swell in numbers, Douglas would always come up with good plans for heists and raids. The BlackJacks had loads of money then and would share it among the poor, and the homeless. Douglas would also contribute a majority of the money to his family, as a matter of fact, fifty percent would go to the poor and the other half would go to the parents of Douglas Mulligan.
Several minutes passed by, and eventually it was time for Jack Marston to have his deathmatch. Bill Pierce was the right hand man of Rodger Cornwall, almost as a bodyguard. Cornwall and Pierce approached the gunslinger as he looked up at the two in disdain, he yanked his arms and jerked them around but no evail.
"It is time for your match, Marston. Your life, has reached the climax. You are doomed to fall to our best female fighter, losing to a girl. How humiliating.." Cornwall taunted.
Bill began to undo the shackles around the wrists of Jack, the young gunslinger growled silently as his chains and shackles were undone. Jack felt brave, but he was slightly nervous. He feared his life would really end right after his old home was burned down and the grave sight of his parents, tarnished by the fires.
"You've reached the end of days, Marston. You'll be living out in the swamps, a land of piss, and shit. Don't forget the gators, I hope they feast upon your flesh after Rebecca leaves you laying on the sands." Bill taunted, jerking Jack up by the collar of his shirt from behind.
"And I hope, after I kill this Irish bitch and forever compromise this shitty fame that Mr. Cornwall has got himself here. I will hope you stop sucking his cock for your own fame and fortune." Jack snapped, it was foolish to act like a smart ass to Bill Pierce of all people but the young gunslinger would not be fighting against him though.
Cornwall laughed and smacked Jack across the face, Jack would not allow himself to be humiliated so easily. He spat at the shoes of the millionaire before him.
"Fuck you" Jack said in gritted teeth.
"You too. Now I'm gonna do my job as an announcer, you can do yours by being the loser of the fight." Cornwall responded, giving Jack a devious grin as he turned towards the doors.
Jack could hear the crowd cheering and some were booing, the sick bastards in which was the audience wanted to see a person die. Dutch taught Jack of Ancient Rome, he was taught of how the Romans fought in the coliseums. Jack was taught of the slaves of old years.
Then, Cornwall burst through the double doors, and the audience erupted in cheers. For such a small venue, the cheers were deafening.
"Ladies and gentleman, and to all the children with a lust for blood. I have brought you an amazing spectacle today and tonight, welcome to the pre-show of the Saint Denis Fighting Pit!"
Suddenly, Jack could feel his long hair being cut by Bill Pierce from behind. Jack growled out in anger and thrashed around a couple of times, yet no chance of escape.
"I'm cutting your hair, The Gambler title is now dead. You'll be a poor outlaw, you will be hated. I want your disdain. Jack Marston, the last man in the Marston bloodline. Your legacy is going to be cut short. Just like your hair."
Jack groaned, and continued to listen to Cornwall announce the matches and hype up the crowd. The young gunslinger shook his head in disbelief with a snarl on his face.
"In mere moments, you will see the most legendary outlaw in New Austin. Yet he has the blood of a Marston! Jack Marston has killed our new favorite talent, The Gambler. What a bastard Jack once was, notice how I said once? He will be facing Rebecca McIntyre, our best female fighter here. Rebecca will earn a free spot in the championship tourney if she is to take down this damned outlaw. Are you ready to see some blood be spilled once more!"
Jack decided to respond angrily, he would try to shout but he knew the crowd wouldn't hear him.
"The blood of McIntyre will be spilled, have some respect for my family. Have some respect for the dead you sick bastards!"
"They aren't listening, Jack." Bill Pierce responded with a laugh, Jack continued to growl out in rage. Bill was right though, words would do nothing for Jack.
The double doors slowly opened from two guards and the crowd began to boo the soul out of Jack, the gunslinger felt embarrassed by this and even humiliated. If Jack had a gun of any sort, there would be casualties. Jack walked towards the center of the pit and waited for his opponent.
He knew that the cheers would be simply unbearable, Jack didn't like any loud noise. He hated rallies of any kind, he hated massive gatherings. After a few more seconds passed by, an Irish kilt popped out of the corner and the cheers instantly started up.
Jack looked around, his face gave away a sense of uncomfort. He shook his head in disbelief, he was extremely annoyed. He then noticed Rebecca McIntyre and he changed his mind in the blink of an eye, she was actually very pretty.
Rebecca had a slight curvy shape but wasn't too curvy, she had large thighs and some toned arms. Her mahogany colored hair was flowing and braided in some parts, the makeup made her have beauty that made her look ten times better than she already did. Jack couldn't help himself but feel butterflies in his stomach at the sight, her beauty was out of this world.
"What's a pretty woman like you doing here, you should stay away from this place!" Jack tried to shout over the combination of cheers and boos, cheers for Rebecca and boos for him.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you?" Rebecca taunted with a sexy giggle trailing at the end, giving Jack a devious grin.
The crowd began to slowly die down in terms of how loud they were, Jack then thought of something Arthur Morgan had said way back in 1899. He and Morgan had gone fishing by a tiny lake over by Horseshoe Overlook, Jack smirked and looked at the crowd.
"You fools enjoy being the toys of rich men, do you all?" Jack growled, the crowd ignored him as Rodger Cornwall looked at the crowd.
"Well then, let the deathmatch… Begi.." Glass shattered and then Cornwall fell to the floor, blood pouring out of a wound on the back of his head. He had been shot by somebody outside.
The crowd began to scream and scatter all over the place, another shot went off. Rebecca took towards the double doors, Jack looked around as people ran by him and shoved their way past him. His heart rate began to build up as another shot rang out, the loud frantic cries and screams of the audience didn't allow Jack to hear anything.
"I need to get out of here." Jack said to himself as he made his way towards the double doors, he would go to escape.
People were dropping here and there from being shot by somebody outside, Jack didn't want to get involved and he made his way through the double doors and down the hall. The screams and explosive shots were blurred out when the doors were closed and locked, Jack ran behind a large box. A box in which was full of weapons and items for the fights to come later on, he would wait and listen for the people to come closer to the doors.
Minute by minute went by as the screams and shots subsided, he could hear the dead thumping against the doors as they collapsed to the floor. A few more minutes went by as the noise level slowly went down to silence, an uncomfortable, dead silence. Jack then heard some blurred chatter, then it got closer.
"Jack Marston, we've come for you!" a voice shouted loudly from behind the doors, Jack remained silent for now.
"We are the BlackJacks, I am the one who burned down your home yesterday. We are hired guns by Archer Fordham of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, second to the government. Come out with your hands in the air!" Another voice commanded, Jack would shake his head and remain silent.
"This son of a bitch isn't listening, Jake, do your stuff." The same voice growled, there was dead silence again for a moment. Jack's heart was racing, the exit was right down the hall and to the right.
Then, multiple shots could be heard from behind the door. All loud and non stop, the bullets tore through the thick wood of the double doors with each thunderous round. These people were going to shoot the door down with whatever gun they had, Jack was desperate now. He looked around for a way to escape, and a way to not get shot.
To his right was a line of boxes, all touching one another. Jack was even hiding behind one of them, he got as low as he could. He could hear the bullets tap against the metal shelves against the wall, and he could hear them cling once they hit the floor.
Jack was sweating, he didn't know if he would make it out of this situation alive. Bullets were flying everywhere from behind those double doors and if he poked his head up for one second, he would be dead.
"Come out you son of a bitch!" The same voice shouted, Jack couldn't tell what the man was shouting as the newly formed holes on the double doors allowed the sound of the machine gun to be heard at maximum audio level.
Jack looked forward, if he made it past by just four more large boxes, he would be home free, and able to make a run for it. He would be where no bullets would hit him if he was to stand, there was no denying how intense this moment was for him. The holes in the double doors began to get bigger as the smaller holes would form bigger ones as more bullets ripped through them, lucky enough for Jack though, the large hole wasn't near the door handles so they could be pushed open.
Jack then began to crawl faster, he felt that it was crunch time, and he needed to get moving. Once he past the fourth box, he swung his legs around and now he was facing the opposite direction and towards the double doors. He pulled one of the boxes to the side very slightly, he wanted to get a look at his attackers and remember their faces if they were to strike again.
The leader of them was wearing all black clothing, well, all of them were wearing dark black clothing. The leader had a dark red, paragon town hat. He looked strikingly similar to John Marston, yet he wasn't John. He had a mustache combined with friendly muttonchops, it was a strange design for facial hair at the time.
The one shooting the gun seemed to be the youngest, he wore a lighter shade of black, the coloring of his clothes appearing to be gray more than black. The thing that made him stand out, was the fact that he had this villainous looking mustache.
The third man looked similar to the one with the machine gun, except he was older and had more of an appearance similar to Dutch Van Der Linde, he wasn't Dutch though. He looked like Dutch from his younger years in 1899, lastly, the fourth member wore all black and had his black shotgun coat unbuttoned, revealing a red and orange flannel shirt from beneath.
"So these are the assholes that want to kill me, seems like they all just got out of a funeral. So much dark clothing." Jack joked to himself as he flipped himself around and ran away, he had the chance to.
Once Jack made it out of the warehouse, he whistled for his horse, Arthur, to come towards him. He knew that the men from within the warehouse as Arthur wasn't too far away from him. The horse came running from around the corner, Jack quickly hopped on to his trusty steed and sped away. Towards Annesburg, he felt that he was lucky to survive the situation he was in.
"I was right about one thing, Cornwall will come to an end and his fame would end. Now the dawn of my legacy begins." Jack said to himself as he sped slightly to the East and up North, Jack was right about what he had just said. His legacy will be big, it will be great.
However in order to combat these men, Jack would need a gang. He knew that there was more than four men, he knew this gang was bigger. He needed a gang, this would make him pursue the live he wanted to live. A gunslinger, a life that his father and mother feared would become of their child. This was the dawn of the Marston gang…