A/N: This is a huge warning, this chapter and throughout the story from here on out will most likely contain some offensive language. Any racial slurs, or offensive actions in this story is to fit the time period of it. Please know that I am not a racist in real life, nor do I condone racism in any shape or form. It only fits in this story because of the time period.
Otherwise, please enjoy the story. Feel free to leave a review on what could be done about it and what I can improve.
(Chapter 8: Make the move)
About half a week passed by with Bill and Rebecca working together, and Jack suffering through obedience to the law. The two decided to wait for the intensity of the past few days of being introduced into gang life, to subside. It would be now that they made their move, the first step in the plan was to win support of a small chunk of the American Army. Their target, was Fort Wallace.
The two had discovered an indian chief over by Fort Wallace in the Wapiti reserve, they gained an idea about making the natives trust them. Bill Pierce and Rebecca had seen a native american being taken from the reserve to be held a prisoner to the military squadron at Fort Wallace, that indian man happened to be the son of the chief.
The next day, Bill Pierce along with Rebecca McIntyre, made their way into the Wapiti Indian Reserve. The indians looked them up and down as they made their way over to the chief's tipi to speak with him. Bill was the first to enter, the wife of the chief was crying into his shoulders.
"Hello friend, how are you doing?" Bill asked, trying to give a positive approach to his conversation. The chief looked up at Bill while he sat cross legged in front of the fire lit in the center of the small space.
"I and my tribe are doing fine, we could be doing better. My son has been taken in by cruel soldiers at Fort Wallace, we're getting tired of always being harassed by them. It has been passed down from generation to generation." The chief spoke, Bill nodded his head as Rebecca entered the tipi.
"What is your name, bud?" Rebecca asked as she sat down too, across from the chief and his sobbing wife.
"I am Chief White Stag, my son is named FireMaker. If you can get him back somehow, it will be greatly appreciated." The chief explained, offering the names of him and his son to Rebecca and Bill.
"Don't worry White Stag, we'll get your son back. We'll get him back soon." Bill responded, patting the chief on his shoulder as Rebecca stroked White Stag's wife hair to calm her and soothe her. Rebecca had a face of sorrow for the wife as she listened to her sobs of hopelessness, she looked up at Bill with the same look.
Bill nodded his head down at Rebecca, it was time for them to make the move. The two then left the Indian Reserve, then making their way to the closest town, in which was Annesburg. They passed on the bridge over the Lanaheechee River, making their way into the civilized part of the mining town.
"As it turns out, I have some spare money in my pockets, not all of it burned with my house. Should be enough to get us a gun or so." Bill said, digging in his pockets to feel that he had some left over currency.
"And if we don't have enough?" Rebecca said, wondering how it would be if they didn't have enough.
"We're getting the guns regardless of the situation, if it needs to be done so, this will be our first robbery. Forget Jack for now, we need resources, and we need to stick with the plan." Bill responded, he would get guns to storm Fort Wallace.
After getting to the gunsmith, Bill and Rebecca stood in front of the shop and looked at each other.
"I want you to sneak into a room right behind the counter, if the man fails to give me both guns. Then you sneak up behind him and knock him out, we don't need him dead." Bill explained, Rebecca nodded, and made her way down the alley and then behind the building.
Bill entered as if he was a normal citizen, the gunsmith instantly knew who he was.
"Ah, the legendary Bill Pierce himself. Never had such a great man enter my shop, what could I get for you?" The smith asked, seeming very excited as if he was an ecstatic fan.
Bill began to browse the catalog, seeing all that the gunsmith had. He noticed that the Carbine Repeater was in stock and decided to choose it to buy.
"Carbine Repeater, I want the cougar engraving." Bill ordered, the gunsmith nodded and grabbed the rifle esque gun from the counter.
"Well, you've gotta pay for it my friend." The smith said, Bill started to bring up his guard, he assumed that Rebecca had did as was told of her to do.
"I know." Bill simply said, pulling out the forty dollars in cash he had in his pocket.
"I'm sorry, that isn't enough." The smith said in an apologetic tone, Bill nodded his head as he understood.
"Listen, I need that gun for a good measure. I am going to work for Fort Wallace, I need that gun, partner, please."
There was a moment of silence, the floorboards creaked behind the counter and down the hall. The smith looked around the corner and seen Rebecca McIntyre trying to take a stealthy approach. The gun owner began to get suspicious.
"You don't need to sneak down this hall, Rebecca, if you've come to get a gun, then just come through the front doo.." The smith couldn't finish what he was going to say when a throbbing hit slammed into the back of his skull, knocking him out cold.
Bill Pierce had picked up the Carbine Repeater himself, and bashed it into the back of the gunsmith's head. Rebecca then looked down at the body and back up at Bill.
"Thanks for the distraction." Bill said with a chuckle as he grabbed another Carbine Repeater off the wall for Rebecca.
"Let's move, before people enter." Rebecca suggested, the two veteran fighters of the Saint Denis Pits, left, and rode towards Fort Wallace with their newly equipped guns.
(Sisika Penitentiary)
Jack was chained up with two African American folk, along with one white man. The four worked on a chain gang together, slamming their hammers into the stones. Some carried large wooden logs around for construction of more large foundations on the island.
Jack had befriended one of the African Americans he worked with, his name was Jeremiah and he had a brother, Joe. Their parents were both slaves before the Civil War broke out, the brothers were sent to a prison for no reason when they were discovered by angry Confederate Veterans.
Jeremiah and Joe both hated the South, they shown no remorse to anyone they met in the South. They hated the weather, they hated the people, they even hated the children for the brothers knew that the southern children would grow to be the same as the adults.
Joe worked separate from Jeremiah, Jack felt sorry for the brothers. The two brothers had no idea of where their parents had gone once they were separated, they haven't seen them for a long time.
Joe groaned loudly as he heaved up the heavy hammer above his head, then screaming out to try and draw out strength. He slammed the hammer down, the weight jerking his arms down and making him nearly release the hammer. If Joe fell, everyone else in his little group would fall down and receive injuries.
Jeremiah snarled, looking out of the corner of his eye to see his brother suffering. A rage had been boiling deep within him since day one at the prison island, not a single day went by when he wasn't pissed.
A guard walked up behind Joe, with a whip in hand. Jack noticed the guard approaching and he looked over at Jeremiah, knowing what was about to happen.
"Come on, push it boy!" The guard barked, Joe tried lifting up the hammer, and his arms shook, and rattled. His muscles failed on him, the sun had been beating down upon them ever since they woke up to work. Every day was like this for them all, even the whites got the whip.
The guard then slammed the whip down upon the bare back of Joe, the sound of the leather hitting the flesh gave off an unforgiving stinging noise. A large welt in which had formed from constant abuse burst, blood splattered everywhere behind Joe. Jeremiah heard his brother howl in agony, he began to growl and his teeth were gritted in anger.
"Jeremiah, hold in in brother, I've been in your situation before. I have felt the same emotions, I've lost a friend before." Jack said, trying to calm Jeremiah down.
"You can't imagine the pain our kind goes through, we are humiliated every day by the guards. Stupid art made by these southern honkies, they laugh at us, call us racial shit." Jeremiah explained, tears of anger welling up in his eyes.
"I've never been in your situation, not to that extent anyway. You and I, we both lost our parents. My mother passed away last year, my father passed away three years before she did." Jack responded, he could tell that Jeremiah couldn't handle it anymore.
"These damn chains cannot hold me, they can't hold me forever." Jeremiah growled, at this point, he would erupt in anger.
"Stop it!" Jeremiah shouted in rage, getting the guard to turn around and look at him from behind.
"Those words don't do us any good, you've got welts on your back too. I can make you cry like a little bitch just the same."
Jeremiah growled, another guard approached and freed Joe, and only Joe. Jack gasped as he seen the brother of Jeremiah roll along the ground in agony, clawing at the grass and tearing it from the dirt. The leader of the prison watched from afar, the name of the owner was William Barlow.
"Stop talking and make that nigger work!" Barlow shouted from afar with a smirk, Jeremiah growled at the racial slur and balled up his fist. The guards decided to rub it in.
"Look at the coon getting all mad!" A guard shouted, right in front of Jeremiah. Jack couldn't believe his ears and he began to feel bad for every African American in the prison.
"We are all tired, you sons of bitches. Give us all, some fucking water." Jeremiah growled, looking up at the guard with hateful intentions.
The guard pressed the muzzle of his revolver against the forehead of Jeremiah, the heart within Jack began to beat faster. The young gunslinger was powerless, his weaponry had been stripped from him and all his belongings.
"You won't be getting anything from us, you blue gummed moon cricket!" The guard behind him growled, obviously speaking to Jeremiah. Jack looked over his shoulder to see the guard aiming his repeater down at Joe.
"Stop this, they've suffered enough. Joe has suffered, now you aim a gun at the poor man. What the hell is wrong with you all!?" Jack demanded an answer, no answer was given to him.
"You can stay out of this, you Godless outlaw." William Barlow chimed in from afar, Jack rolled his eyes.
Jeremiah dropped the hammer in defiance against the superior power of the guards and heavy law enforcement around, the guard before him raised an eyebrow.
"Pick the hammer up, now." The guard growled, ordering Jeremiah to pick the hammer back up and get back to work, Jeremiah didn't listen.
"Pick the damn hammer up, I'm giving you the count of five!" The guard behind Jack and Jeremiah shouted, Joe was still writhing in agony with a foot of the guard pinning him down.
The other prisoners were forced to look away by the sting of whips, they could all hear what was going on around them.
Jeremiah didn't listen, he refused to obey the law. He stood on his knees in defiance, not picking up the hammer and keeping his angry glare up at the guard in front of him.
"Five..Four..Three..Two.." The guard counted down, looking at the guard over Joe.
Jeremiah's eyes widened when he heard the shot of the repeater go off, he heard his brother fall silent. Jack's heart jumped into his throat.
"Damn you!" Jeremiah screamed as he knew his brother had been shot from this world, William approached the scene and looked down at Jeremiah.
"Let ol' Jeremiah suffer, the coon earned the suffering from inheritance. We have the white man's burden, I wanna watch em' bleed." William Barlow growled, rubbing the death of Joe into Jeremiah pretty hard.
Jack looked over at Barlow with hatred, the dirty middle aged bastard had to pay for what he has done to the brothers. Jack sworn upon it, he clenched his fists tightly.
"You're an asshole, Barlow. We all have no burden, we all suffer equally within this prison. We all die equally as human beings, we all bleed red, race or religion shouldn't divide us. Yet, you fools allow it to be so." Jack growled, William looked at the young gunslinger.
"Your concepts seem strange for your history, Jack. I've heard stories about your father being here, you're nothing but your father's bitch. That is all you are, he lived his life and he died along with the era of the outlaws. The old west is dead, you're the last of a kind." William responded, trying to rub humiliation in Jack now.
"Well if the old west is dead, what age are we in?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. William stood silently for a moment before answering Jack.
"War, there is a war going on in Europe. The Great War, you'll be very lucky if the United States gets involved in it. Once this war is over, the United States shall rebuild itself. If you're alive then, you shall be killed. This whole country is changing for the better, it will be better without your kind."
Jack nodded his head and then gave William a cold stare, not taking his eyes off of him even if he was forced too.
"This country is changing, it will not be for the better. I can see it all, racial violence, wrongful judgement, prejudice of religion, and many wars after this one. Maybe if civilization wasn't a thing, none of this would have happened. With all these new towns springing to life, I dread what will come when my past is long and gone. One hundred years from now, it will be different but also the same. New life on this world, but the same old bullshit from our time." Jeremiah chimed in, looking up at William. Jack decided to speak again too.
"He's right William, all of these racial problems. It is gonna remain here, society will go to big lengths for change. They will try to change it with violence, which is what outlaws and the gunslingers from the dead era from a few years ago, did. The Van Der Linde gang despised the civilization expansion, we hated big cities, I still do. With the rise of the Cornwalls, people of every kind will have greed in their minds."
William chuckled, seeming like he didn't care a single bit for what Jack was saying. William didn't know that it would be the truth so many years later, it all went down as Jack had thought of and dreamt of.
"Your kind, the racist, greedy, high in power fools, you will divide us all! You and your people will ruin America, if it isn't ruined already. It is not the home of the free and the brave, it is home of the racists, the home of greed. All of it remains because of the brave, this whole country will be demonized one day." Jack growled in shame.
"Let it be demonized, we all will not be alive one hundred years from now. We won't have to care, let America ruin itself. Let the country die and decay, maybe in a million years. People will return to America again, maybe at some point in the 3000s. They will find America in ruins, left behind buildings and the skeletons of the dead will be all that remains. Maybe then, you'll have your change. It is a damn shame you will not be alive to see it." William sighed as he walked away, Jack and the others were forced back to work.
(Fort Wallace)
Rebecca had borrowed a bow from Chief White Stag, she was given a bundle of arrows as well. The irishman didn't want no one to hear her kills, including Bill. They both wanted a quiet approach, they wanted to attack in the cover of night. So they did, they would wait until midnight to move. Both of them got plenty of rest before making the move once more.
The two hid within the bushes and shrubbery close by the fort, all was quiet except for the wind in which blew the leaves on the trees. They also had equipped their carbine repeaters, just incase if things went south. The light of the moon gave the two their only source of guidance, they could see the hats of the guards within the fort in silhouette form via the bright light.
Bill and Rebecca made their way out of their cover, staying silent the whole time. They used their dark clothing to their advantage, allowing themselves to blend in with the darkness. They could hear crickets chirping in the night, Bill nudged Rebecca softly with his elbow and pointed at a hat of a guard.
"Shoot him, I'll get him down." Bill whispered, Rebecca nodded and aimed up with her bow. She pulled back and got ready to fire, Bill made his way directly under the guard from above from the outside.
The guard was looking out into the night, until he heard what sounded like a snap. Then all went black as an arrow went into his head, the guard slumped forward, and a lasso went around his body. The guard fell out of the fort and crashed down right beside of Bill, the prize fighter looked to where Rebecca was and nodded his head.
The two put their ears to the fort's wooden walls, they could hear somebody talking from within. It was the voice of the lieutenant, he was about to leave the fort. The lieutenant sounded like Bill, Rebecca gave him a look of surprise.
"I have an idea." Rebecca said with a wink, a few more minutes passed by before the massive wooden gate slowly opened up. The lieutenant began to leave away on his horse, Bill noticed a guard about to close the gate once again. Rebecca fired and the guard was killed instantly.
"While everyone is distracted with that man you shot just now. I'm going to go drag that body into our cover, defend me as I go." Bill commanded, Rebecca nodded her head and kept her aim at the fort. Bill slowly made his way out towards the body of the lieutenant, grabbing him by the arms and slowly dragging him towards cover again. Rebecca kept her aim steady, luckily no guard seen Bill.
"So Rebecca, what plan do you have?" Bill asked, feeling curious for her secret plan.
A few minutes went by and a man wearing the same clothing as the lieutenant, approached the gate. With a voice sounding familiar to the man in whom was shot down by Rebecca, the man turned out to be Bill with the clothing of the lieutenant.
"Open this gate up, I am back. I have got an irish damsel here, she has information about the native American uprising in uncharted territory close to Annesburg. There is a possible chance that she knows FireMaker." Bill announced, disguised as the lieutenant. Rebecca decided to play the part of an irish damsel who possibly knew FireMaker. It was all part of her plan, the wooden gate slowly opened, and the two walked in.
The guards all looked at Bill along with Rebecca, the two tried to not make their approach awkward, it would throw away their cover and possibly get them killed.
"I would have words with FireMaker, me and Rebecca would have a talk with him. We're gonna get some answers tonight!" Bill shouted, raising his fist into the air. Two guards escorted him and Rebecca towards the chamber where FireMaker was being held.
The two guards left the prized fighters once they were within the chamber, they seen FireMaker in the corner of the dark room, he was shivering and had been stripped down to just a loincloth.
"Get the hell away from here, this is torture!" The young native american screamed in slight terror, but mostly anger.
"We aren't them, we tricked them." Bill answered, seeing the shape that FireMaker was in. The adolescent indian boy looked pretty roughed up, alone in a cold room with only a brown cloth strapped to his waist for clothing.
"Damn, they stripped you down pretty good, didn't they?" Rebecca teased, FireMaker rolled his eyes and looked around through a small peephole he had jabbed in the wooden wall with a knife he snuck in.
"They took all of my clothing and stashed it somewhere, I'm not going out there practically naked." FireMaker groaned in an annoyed voice, he then turned his head to Bill and Rebecca.
"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked.
"Well, we do need some information. Tell us anything you know about something close to Annesburg." Bill explained, about to reveal part of his plan.
Bill's idea was to strip the lieutenant of all of his clothing since his voice sounded like his, he and Rebecca would free FireMaker after they went to Sisika Penitentiary with the soldiers at Fort Wallace. They would raid the prison island by any means necessary.
"Annesburg.." FireMaker thought, he hadn't heard of any news surrounding Annesburg. Though there was something interesting in particular by the area in which Annesburg was in.
"Native Americans, from an unknown tribe. Over in the Annesburg area, they are being hunted down by law enforcement. The soldiers take their wrath out on my tribe because they cannot find them, Sisika Penitentiary is not too far away. It is gonna be a huge event though, you're gonna see some bloodshed." FireMaker answered, Bill and Rebecca looked at each other with slightly concerned looks.
"How many of these indians are there?" Bill asked, FireMaker shrugged his shoulders.
"From what I've heard, there is only three. We can make up some story on how this is a much larger tribe in order to get the attention of the soldiers."
"That is good enough, we need to make the move sometime soon. I don't think a friend of ours is gonna last any longer." Bill suggested, helping FireMaker up. The three then made their way out of the chamber.
"Gentlemen, I've received word from this irish damsel and FireMaker himself, that there is a large portion of the indian tribe planning to set free prisoners over at Sisika Penitentiary. We must move tomorrow morning and prepare for a full scale battle. I'm pretty sure that there will be some other beings involved with it too." Bill announced, tricking the soldiers as he roughly held FireMaker to make the others believe that he was the lieutenant.
"Very well. We advance to Sisika Penitentiary tomorrow morning at the time of nine thirty." A soldier suggested as he cleaned his rifle with some gun oil.
"Fine with me, as long as it is before noon. We don't want to arrive too late." Bill responded.
The three would stay at the fort for the night, planning and anticipating the morning of the next day. They knew that getting Jack back wouldn't be so easy, Bill had never heard of a tribe of 3 indians. FireMaker wondered if the 3 indians were actually going to try and get into Sisika Penitentiary.
These three indians were really in a tribe of 3, however, they were always involved with chaos. Everywhere these native americans went, bloodshed would follow. Somehow, they would be on the scene of the battle at Sisika Penitentiary the next morning…