Chapter 1

"I am Jack Marston. You knew my father."

This was the man who he hated the most, have invested years of his life into this sole purpose. He'd threatened his mother and himself as potential casualties just to control him like an animal before killing him and not giving him the life he'd promised.

With pride, Jack Marston - the son of John Marston - wore his pa's hat, a white collared shirt, a red bandana, a beige jacket, and black pants tucked into dark boots without spurs. His pa would never have believed how much civilization changed in the past three years let alone the changes that Jack had went through. People now rode them fancy new automobiles or those machines that turned men into angels.

The days of the outlaws would soon be over. Many gangs have either put their weapons down or were found and forced to be to do the dirty work.

If his father and Arthur had still been alive... they both would have been amazed by how much things have changed within the last years. Jack had time to hesitate beforehand, but not now.

Still, the man didn't have it within him to kill the bastard's family. The brother seemed like a better man than his man, and his wife appeared just tired of it all, something that Jack understood as his own mother have been losing energy and lost weight due to heartbreak after his father's death.

Speaking of the old man himself, this was Edgar Ross-the fool who no longer held things into his cards, who had no way to control Jack and what he was about to do.

And still, the bastard chuckled. "Hehe... I see I remember your father."

Jack thought with some irony about how he met this man years earlier next to Arthur.

'Enjoy your fishing, kid, while you still can.'

Jack bit down that old memory and snarled. "I've come for you, Ross."

"Heh heh. And you, boy. Have sure as found me." Ross responded, obviously not taking him seriously, something that made it all the more irresponsible test ng for Jack.

"You killed my father!" Jack snapped, losing the last shed of control he still had.

"Your father killed himself with the life he lived," Ross retorted with malice.

"You killed him! I saw it!" Jack shouted.

"You keep saying that," Ross mocked, rolling his eyes as he played with his shotgun.

"You sent him to do your dirty work, then you shot him like a dog!" Jack growled. Edgar Ross would not be leaving here alive if he had anything to say about it.

"And I'll shoot you like one too, you little piece of trash!" Ross hissed. "Now, get out of here before I kill you as well!"

"I ain't going nowhere, old man!" Jack rebuked, his hand shooting down to his father's old cattlemen. If he was going to kill him, he would do it with the man he murdered.

Recognizing a challenge when he seen one, the old bastard put his shotgun on the ground, and placed his hand over his Schofield. What would possibly be the last draw, signifying the end of an bygone era.

As the sun began to dawn around the two men, they eyed each other. What felt like hours was only five seconds. Edgar Ross had his share numbers of experience, have put down multiple outlaws himself before they could even think about drawing. Yet, his competitor had years to train, went out hunting without his mother even knowing in her depression, added onto all the things his father taught him.

This was not just for his pa and his ma, but for all the others. For Arthur, the man who Jack never forgot. He had time to wonder would he have been disgusted if he saw what Jack was about to do, but he shrugged those thoughts off every time. What did it matter? They were dead, and even if Jack lost, there was nothing left for him anyway.

The experienced and older Edgar Ross drew his weapon, but the young and agile Jack Marston had been quicker, aiming his gun up at the man. Before Ross could pull his trigger, Jack emptied five bullets into him, dropping the bastard onto the ground.

Ross's lifeless body collapsed into the river bank.

He thought he would have felt satisfaction, finally bringing an end to all this. So many years of pain, agony...

Jack felt nothing but empty, looking down at his father's gun. He wondered about throwing it into the river and not looking back, but what was the point? Officially, Jack was an outlaw, having walked down the path of the unforgivable. He would have to go into hiding for a long time, and possibly the government would find him.

But if Jack was hanged, why should he care? Unlike his pa who had his mother, Jack Marston had no wife, kids, or anything that held him back.

He turned around and began walking to his horse.

But he wished nothing more that his pa was there, that he had somewhere to go to, that he was able to bring them back. All he had was the clothes on his back, his horse, and his father's legacy.

"What a poetic ending, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Marston?" A voice asked from behind, and Jack whipped around to see a man in black. He should put this witness down and hightail it out of there before someone came by and found him, but something about him prevented him from acting on haste.

Still, he aimed his father's gun at the man.

"Easy now, dear boy. I have a proposition for you."

Jack snapped. "I ain't doin' no one's bidding."

"What if I told you you could save your parents and your uncle? Possibly, even their gang."

Jack's hand inched closer to the trigger. "I'll say you're an insane fool. They're gone."

"That depends on what you want to do. I can see the interest in your eyes. What if I gift you with all the memories of what came before so you have enough knowledge?" The strange man asked. "Typically, I should allow you to go on with your life, but I'm feeling merciful after all the suffering your family went through."

Jack sneered. "What are you talking about?"

"Just hold still."

Jack felt his body collapsing onto the ground, reaching for his head. Just as the man promised, he could see everything.

"We can't always fight nature, John. We can't fight change. We can't fight gravity. We can't fight nothing. My whole life, all I ever did was fight."

"Oh, Dutch, he's a rat. You know it and I know it..."

"You got tuberculosis. I'm really sorry for you, son, it's a hell of a thing."

"John... Insist?"

"You'll damn us all."

The voices became mingled, amidst a endless current; but Jack Marston could see everything as if he lived them. The gang when it was in power. The decline. The death of Arthur Morgan on the river top. His father getting revenge on Micah Bell, the rat who killed his dog. All of it...

When it was over, the strange man looked at him. "With you seeing the past, will you be able to accept this possible burden? The sacrifices. Maybe do things better than before. If not, I'll leave you be and allow you to live your life."

Jack didn't respond instantly. His brain felt like it was assaulted in many ways.

Once he collected his breath, he responded. "Yes."

The man smirked.

"Don't underestimate things, Jack Marston, this is my only form of leniency. Things could end better or much worse."

Jack nodded, before his body go slack, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Arthur's note: I have never played the campaign of Red Dead Redemption 1. I'm hoping to change that soon but I know how things play out due to watching the events but I did play 2 a few years ago. And upon seeing many Arthur and John's time travels, I wanted to do one with Jack. Upon looking for days I never saw an actual literal one with Jack so I decided to give it a shot.

Given we barely know Jack, imma go off the basic that he is numb about everything but has a heart like his father. Not fully good but not fully evil. Something among the middle.