Author's note: What if Herbert Moon and John weren't the only ones to meet "the Reaper in his Sunday best"?
"I don't want to fuckin' talk to him Hosea! Just…go away, the both of you!" Annabelle snarled as quietly as she could manage despite her anger, not even looking over at the older man as he leaned on the bar counter next to her. She raised her shot glass, shaking it slightly as she did so and scowling as she continued staring straight ahead at the wall of booze in front of her. She could feel her man looking at her with that pathetic puppy dog stare, almost sensing the longing and loneliness too from across the room and it enraged her further.
"Belle, I don't know what happened between you two but he's been…he's devastated, he hasn't eaten or slept in about a month," he gestured with his elbow at Dutch who sat at a poker table trying to distract himself while the two chatted, "I've known him a long time and I've never seen him like this before. You two have gotten through worse, haven't you? Surely–"
"He should've thought about the consequences of his actions, Mr. Mathews. He raped me, his fuckin' alleged wife, and tried to act like what he did wasn't a big fuckin' deal! The only reason I'm not putting a bullet in both of you right now is 'cause I don't want to make a scene!" She hissed, looking at Hosea with just her eyes as tears welled up in them angrily. She grimaced, chewing her bottom lip for a while as she tried to calm down, practically digging her fingernails into the bar as she clutched the wooden countertop now.
"Fuck." He shook his head and hung it a moment, licking his lips and trying to figure out what to say as the woman let her tears fall and went back to staring at the wall.
"Yeah. 'Fuck' is right. Degenerate piece of shit. Should've let Bessie fuckin' kill him all those years ago when he left bruises on my throat." She retrieved and pounded what was left of her whiskey and slammed the glass down, glaring at the bartender who quickly trotted over to refill her now empty glass. She growled, trying desperately to push back against the flashbacks of the incident that came to her mind's eye.
"I'll kill him my goddamn self—" He went to turn around when she put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. Her dark curls bouncing a bit as she chewed her bottom lip again and looked back down at her newly filled glass.
"No. I…ugh," she put both her elbows on the bar now and her head into her hands, "look I love the man but he's a goddamn monster, Hosea. If he had just…he could've…Jesus Christ…I don't–"
She sniffed audibly, sensing those wandering eyes over her back, that intense and desperate longing. Part of her wanted to turn around, just so he could witness how fucked up she was on account of him. She needed to keep it together though, as much as she could, despite how absolutely obliterated her heart felt knowing he was just over her shoulder begging her with a look to forgive him. Again. And again. And again. But, she could never forgive him for this, there was absolutely no way forward after that night.
"It's no wonder he didn't tell me why we were chasing you all the way out to Deadwood. He said you had a right to be pissed off at him but I didn't expect him to…we live by a code!" Hosea threw his hands into the air and looked over his shoulder now, making eye contact with Dutch who grimaced a moment under the callous expression and disgusted glare he was receiving. And he knew that she had told Hosea what had happened, he looked away and back to the poker game at hand to distract himself.
"Look we…we had a good run, he and I, but he's wild as they come. And I knew that. Don't be too hard on him, old friend. Just…get him out of here…before I do something I'm going to regret for the rest of my miserable fuckin' life." She shook her head and fidgeted with her glass, as though she were unsure about drinking it.
" Here," he reached into his pocket and produced the pocket watch with the red Jasper and set it down beside her, "this belongs to you, right?"
She glanced at it but returned to her glass and picked it up to sip off of it for a moment.
"Let him keep it as a memento of gettin' vengeance for his daddy by fucking a rotten slavers daughter like a whore all these years. Y'know, the worst part about all of this is that I thought he actually loved me sometimes. Guess I was a real fuckin' idiot on top of bein' a whore with more cunt than sense." She pounded it again and dropped a couple coins on the counter before she retreated.
"Anna—" Dutch went to stand up as she walked right past him and towards the stairs leading up to rooms the saloon rented. Granted they were generally reserved for actual whores but she had struck a deal with the owner to use one of the nicer ones for herself and John. She wouldn't even look at him as she slunk passed, her hazel eyes clouded over as though she were simply lost in thought.
But he knew better. He sank back into the chair as Hosea retrieved the object and stood near the table by an open seat.
"Mind if I join?" He asked and the man dealing cards nodded, not looking up from his work as the old timer sat beside Dutch. He couldn't look at the man either, but he inhaled audibly before sighing and placing the watch on the green felt of the table. "I'd like to make this game a little more interesting, if you gentlemen don't mind…"
"Hosea…" Dutch stared at the gold watch painfully for a moment and tried to catch his friends attention if only for a second.
"Don't you fucking 'Hosea' me right now. I ought to put a hole in you, asshole. But like her, I don't wanna make a scene either. Just like this watch, I don't think you can win her back to you. Not after what you did, Dutch."
"I…I know." He mumbled quietly as the dealer pushed out the cards to them and he slid them towards him. "I know. But…I have to try…"
"Ain't no 'plan' or amount of 'faith' or fidelity that'll get you out of this scrape. I'm certain that she will actually kill you if you give her the opportunity this time instead of just sayin' so." Hosea grumbled as he picked up his cards to look at them.
"If that's what it takes then…so be it." He knew she wouldn't kill him, this wasn't how he was supposed to meet his bitter end.
—-
The plan was simple. John, Micah, Javier, and he would hit the ferry. Mac, Davey, and Sean would provide support from the docks and the warehouse they had been using to work out the heist in case they ran into trouble. Jenny would play the hidden ace in the hole, acting as a civilian and hiding among the passengers to make it easier for them to hand over their money and valuables.
The ferry was set to leave at exactly 9:30am, it was now 8:45am and he and the boys were slowly working their way past crates, taking out an errant dock worker here and there. Casually of course, just a quick crack on the head or, in Micah's case, a knife through the throat.
As the man's knife went through the last of them and he let the body slump slowly into his arms and down onto the ground, out of sight, Dutch felt nervous. Something doesn't feel right about this, he thought to himself as he pulled the checkered bandana over his mouth a little more and hunkered behind some barrels. He motioned for John and Javier to move up ahead of him and Micah, silently and swiftly the two men slid into position to an open window and gave an 'all clear' signal.
"Micah, that's the fourth one you've killed today. We don't do that in this outfit. I prefer keeping things as non-lethal as possible–" He whispered angrily as the man wiped his bloody knife off on his pant leg just above his boot. The man smiled nervously and held his hands up in surrender, prompting him to roll his eyes and motion at where Javier and John were.
"I'll keep that in mind, old habits…uh…die hard I guess." He offered apologetically as he crept forward and Dutch followed in close behind to join the others.
"Alright, John you take the port side, Javier you're on the bow, Micah you've got starboard. I'm going for the bridge. Ready?" He leaned against a pillar a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the open window before the boys nodded.
"What about the girl…where she's supposed to be?" Micah asked as Javier and John slipped in through the open window and Dutch rolled his eyes again.
"Get on the fuckin' boat Micah and quit worrying what Miss Kirk is up to. She know the plan."
"Of course, 'O'Captain! my Captain!'." Micah replied with a chuckle, giving a little salute as he slid through the window and went to slide into his position.
"I'm getting too old for this shit." He mumbled under his breath, giving one last look at what should've been an empty dock, but it wasn't.
There, sitting on a pillar was…
"Trelawny? What the fuck! Are you trying to blow this entire operation–" He hissed, going to retrieve a revolver but when the man turned to look at him, his blood ran ice cold and he felt a shiver course from the base of his skull down to his tailbone. It was as though he were as frigid as a corpse, his heart thumped wildly, returning to that familiar out of time beat that it had once had. He clutched at it, trying to hold it in his hand unless it decided to run off on him now.
"Mr. Van der Linde," the man removed his tophat to greet him before replacing it, "it's been a long time."
"I know you." He whispered fearfully, though it seemed rather impossible considering the last time he had seen this exact same man was nearly thirty years ago when he had run away from home. He went to glance over his shoulder at the open window, debating an escape away from the odd entity that took the guise of a man just to torment him. But the Strange Man chuckled, snapping open a silver pocket watch and clicking his tongue to chastise Dutch.
"Don't worry, I've done you the courtesy of…holding the moment," he snapped it shut, "for now."
"You've been stalking me for years now, like I haven't seen you skulking around in the shadows, like I'm unaware of my own pathetic mortality. But," Dutch turned back to look at the man, "I ain't done yet. This is not how I die."
"Oh no, no…I'm not here for you," The Strange Man giggled in amusement, straightening up and adjusting his suit before looking at the boat for a moment and then back at the man, "well…yet anyway. Eventually of course, but later."
"You're here for them, then? One or all of them? Take whoever you want…except the boy, I…I need him." He asked quietly and the man nodded in response solemnly before scratching his chin.
"Don't tell me you've gone all…sentimental on me, although that's impossible considering the price you paid all those years ago. But not just that actually, she asked me to come too, to offer you a choice…I'm not entirely sure why I agreed if I'm being honest, when we both know you're going to do what you're going to do…regardless of the personal cost."
"She was very convincing when she would pout. I've been dreaming, well, remembering some of the horrible things I did to her. On account of…who I really am and what I owe you," he scoffed, lowering the revolver defeatedly a moment and looking at the ground in thought, "but…can I…can I ask you something?"
"I 'spose." The Strange Man replied, folding his arms and peering down at him with a wicked smirk.
"Did she know?"
"Ah. That is not something I can answer, even if I did know."
"Fine, let me rephrase the question then, you tricky bastard…" He glanced back up, "did she suspect it?"
"You know that woman better than I, Mr. Van der Linde. You will lay hundreds of innocent bodies at my feet soon, I'm sure. I've waited a long time too, you know. I have to admit…for a moment I thought you might back out of our deal because of her." The Strange Man chuckled again, twisting his mustache in the same way Trelawny would, hell he could've been the Brit if Dutch didn't know any better.
"You promised a fifteen year old boy the skills and tools to exact his vengeance upon this unjust, inhumane, and unforgiving world in exchange for his capacity to love his fellow man, or woman in her case. But…I beat you once before, 'cause I got to love her anyway in spite of our little arrangement. She was my woman, whether or not I had the capability to love her the way she ought to have been."
"If you need to believe you beat me, then fine, but we both know you're lying through your teeth. You really wanted to love her, I'll give you that. But…you always knew I would come for her someday, regardless. Hell, you're lucky I let you keep her for as long as I did. Though, it is odd that you would choose her out of the many women who have tried to hold you down over the years. Come to think of it…didn't her daddy butcher yours? Bayonet charge on horseback if I recall correctly, it was truly a bloody affair. Oh, how I would've liked to see that tragic love story play out as a romantic comedy, but what would be the fun in that I wonder." He continued wringing his mustache in one hand, cackling sinisterly under his breath.
"I'd love to stay and chat, old friend," Dutch looked away again and towards the open window for a moment, "but I have a ferry to rob and a promise to keep."
—-
He shivered under the ratty blanket he had taken with him from the house, it was the only thing the men who robbed him had left him other than his clothing. His white shirt and black slacks were covered in mud, pig shit, his own blood, and god knows what else. He had fought back, stupidly too and one of the men had split his left eyebrow open causing blood to run into his eyes and along his face. His lip was split, his eye bruised, and his mouth torn up by his own teeth thrashing around when the three men beat the shit out of him for mouthing off.
"But I can't go home...not while she's...I can't do this! I just wanna die! Just let me die!" He whimpered, clutching to the thin blanket as he tried to lay in the straw with the pigs in the livery, having used a lot of their straw bedding to build himself a little hideaway. He hated it. He couldn't sleep either wondering if the hogs were going to try to take bites out of him while he rested, after all, he knew what a hungry pig could do to a human body. He had read about it in a book and to him, books were far more straightforward about the savagery of human nature than word of mouth.
He could hear the heavy footfalls of the portly livery owner pass by as a man brought in a jet black horse from out of the rain, the breezeway was briefly illuminated by his lantern as he grunted and limped by. The man in the suit paused, holding tightly to his mount and looked over at the pig sty for a moment before moving on.
"Seventy five cents a day for stabling, a quarter for hay, grain'll cost you extra." The livery man grumbled, gesturing to an empty stall next to the pen where the boy was hiding. He held his breath, afraid that even the slightest movement would alert the owner to his presence. He had already been chased out before by the man for essentially bedding down with the pigs as he got out of Philadelphia and into the rural part of Pennsylvania. But he had a long way to go, he had an aunt in Chicago, a relative of his mother's that would probably take him in if he asked.
"Very well." The well dressed man in the top had reached into his pocket, leaning on his cane for a moment and pulling out a couple bills, handing them to the man. "Keep the change."
"I'll take good care of your horse, mister." He went to reach for the reins but the man in the top hat shook his head and held firmly to the black leather straps.
"She's a bit difficult, my Prosperina, I'll see to making her comfortable for now. Thank you anyway." He tipped his hat and the portly man scowled, grumbling under his breath as he hung the lantern up on a peg and shuffled off into the darkness.
The black mare turned her head, her curly midnight colored mane shifting in front of her eyes for a moment as she looked over at the massive hay pile in the sty and snorted loudly. She was a funerary horse, the kind with feathered feet and solid black with a bulky build, and Dutch had never seen anyone just casually ride one around. She even had the typical long black feather popping out from her forehead along the bridle, slowly curling forward a bit as her rider gently padded her neck with one hand and rubbed his chin with the other.
"You can come out, you know. I won't tell him you're hiding away with the hogs to keep out of the rain." The man in the top hat moved past his horse and stood at the edge of the pen, tipping his hat again. "Tell you what, you know how to groom a horse, boy?"
He shifted in the straw, still trying to hold his breath a little, feeling the air around him chill him and cause his wet clothes to feel like they might freeze into his skin. The man chuckled, rubbing his chin before reaching into his pocket again and producing a roll of bills, waving it a little at the boy and raising an eyebrow.
"You'll need this if you're going to make it to Chicago, Sjur."
"I beg your pardon, mister?" Dutch straightened up out of the hay pile, his dark eyes wide with terror a moment. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, not even his friends and he gulped. How did this stranger know about Chicago and why.
"I know you, boy and you…you know me too, don't you?" The Strange Man snickered, expertly tipping the roll of bills in his fingers and causing them to disappear. He raised a white glove to his chin and rubbed it, his nearly black eyes glinting mischievously in the thin light of the breezeway.
"Can't say I do, mister. I ain't never met you before in my life." He scratched his tangled black hair, still nervously eying the stranger.
" 'Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, as to behold desert a beggar born…' I know you know the rest…"
" 'And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, and purest faith unhappily forsworn, and gilded honour shamefully misplac'd, and maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, and right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd, and strength by limping sway disabled'," the boy began but stopped as he realized he didn't actually recall the rest though his father had read him Sonnet 66 many times, he flushed red and looked at the straw, "I uh…I could never remember how it ended though. You know Shakespeare, mister?"
"I do, how do you think I know he's also your 'daddy's' favorite poet too? So, little Sjur, do you know who I am? Or do I have to tell you my name…"
"I don't believe in God or the Devil, mister." The boy folded his arms, glaring angrily at the man who chuckled in response and smiled.
"I am neither God nor Satan himself, guess again boy." He began to twirl his mustache now and the boy became more afraid now, gulping again and looking at the black mare and then back to the man.
"You're Death, aren't you? I thought the Grim Reaper was supposed to be–"
"Skeletal? Ride a sickly white horse? Oh there's a lot of varying accounts of what I look like and why, but I've always felt right in this disguise. Now," he reproduced the roll of cash in between his fingers and waved it at the boy, "do you want to make a little money for your journey or not?"
"I–" He began but his stomach growled loudly and he flushed pink again, shifting uncomfortably in the hay as he debated standing up. "Am I dead, then? I can't be hungry if I'm dead, right?"
"I'm not here for you, yet. You see, little Sjur, I get bored from time to time, the way that all eternal and omnipotent entities do… in a way, you summoned me. By saying you wished you were dead. But…I came to offer you a…choice instead. A…deal, in a way."
"What kind of deal? I'm guessin' you want my soul or some such nonsense, right?"
"Your soul? No no, that would be too…passé. I've been watching you for a long time, you're going to go on to do…interesting things with your life that assist me in my accounting if that's the trail you end up following. This is just a choice, after all. So, what is it you want most in this world, Sjur…tell me…" The bills disappeared again as he went to scratch his chin again.
"Power, I guess. The ability to fight back against this cruel and bitter world. I wanna crusade against the folk who spit on me, who murdered my daddy for daring to make the world a better place for everyone regardless of color or creed, and make men and women respect me instead of crushing me under their boots like an ant. I wanna be able to change the savage nature of this…bullshit reality, no matter what I gotta do. I wanna be free." Dutch shivered a moment, clutching his soaked shirt and shaking his wet and mangled hair to get it out of his eyes as the Strange Man rubbed his chin pensively now.
"Power…how…adorable for such a young child. If I give you the power you so desperately want, you realize I have to take something away from you…and you will not be able to undo your choice. Are you absolutely certain this is the path you want to take?" He raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
"What do I lose by choosing power? What's stronger than the ability to crush your opposition?" Dutch asked quietly, standing up from the hay pile now and debating whether or not he wanted to step towards the sharply dressed gentleman on the other side of the sty.
"Love. You will lose your empathy for your fellow man. People will love you and be loyal to you, of course, but you will not be able to return that love to them. For if you even so much as try, you will know nothing but grief as I will inevitably 'balance my books' so to speak. But, grief is a very effective tool of vengeance…"
Dutch spit in his hand and stepped towards the man, extending his wet palm out and the man removed his white gloves and spat in his own hand. They shook on it but even as the man let go of his hand, Dutch didn't.
"Love ain't gonna feed and shelter me, mister. Girls don't like me on account of my looks, lack of money, and zero prospects. They want a prince and I ain't nothin' but a pauper. And men don't like me because I ain't nothin but the shit under their boot. Ain't no one ever gonna look at me the way my daddy looked at my momma, I know that."
"If you say so…little Dutch Van der Linde. Now, be a good boy and tend to Prosperina. It was a pleasure doing business with you." He flashed the wad of cash and the young man snatched it from his hand, scrambling over the fence to tend to the large black animal.
—-
"Just get it open!" He hissed, holding the revolver to the pregnant girl's temple as she fidgeted with the lock to the bridge. Outside, the Pinkerton's had assembled, almost like they had been waiting in the reeds for Dutch to make his move. He was anxious, sweaty, and he hated feeling out of control of the situation.
They said they hadn't heard nothin'! FUCK!
"P-p-please d-d-don't–" Heidi begged, feeling his forearm around her neck constrict her as his dark eyes darted back and forth to check his surroundings. They had hidden behind a wall, sheltered by it as bullets tore past the blown out windows and his boys sheltered in place in the broken glass near the floor.
"You little bitch!" Micah roared, returning fire wildly by popping out of one of the broken windows to shoot back at the men cowering on the docks. "You said no one was guarding it! You lied to me! You little rat!"
"Micah! Just shut the hell up! I need to…I need to think!"
"Dutch! They got John pretty bad in the arm!" Javier looked up from his crouched position on the floor as he finished tying off the other man's arm. He was panicked too, but Dutch knew he needed to try to squish his feelings of anxiety. He needed to regain control of the situation.
"For them?" His own words echoed in his mind as he briefly thought back to his run in with the Strange Man. Not the boy. I need the boy, he's the only child Belle and I have. The others…take one of them!
"I'm fine Dutch! But we need to get the hell off of this boat and fast!" John growled, they had gotten him in his dominant arm and while it burned, it wasn't bad enough that he couldn't shoot back.
"The girl ain't of use to us! Just shoot her and be done with it, Duuuuutch!" Micah snarled, popping back into cover as the Pinkerton's opened fire again.
"Darling, I am begging you, just get the GODDAMN DOOR OPEN!" He screamed in Heidi's ear, causing her to drop her keys and squeal a bit as he popped out of cover and shouted at the men assaulting them on the docks. "I WILL FUCKIN' KILL HER! BACK! OFF!"
The shooting stopped as he left her out in the open with his arm around her neck, pushing his back to the wall and panting. I need to calm down, we can all survive this if I just calm down.
"This way!" Jenny called from the hallway, having ditched her bold pink hat with a feather and holding her revolvers up, motioning for the boys to follow.
"Just shoot her, Dutch! She betrayed us!" Micah was the first to hit the deck and begin weaseling his way over to where Jenny was, Javier tucked John's good arm over him and began to do the same.
"LET ME FUCKIN' THINK GODDAMN IT!" Dutch screamed back, pulling the young woman back to him and dragging her down with him.
"Mr. Van der Linde, I implore you!" Heidi squealed as he dragged her along through the sidehatch that Jenny had opened as they made their way towards the side. They could jump down into the water.
Except John can't fuckin' swim, dumbass! FUCK!
"Just do me the courtesy of shutting the fuck up, sweetheart! Before I do something I come to regret. If you continue to annoy me, I will fucking kill you! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" He would've spat but the bandana over his mouth prevented him from doing so, he grumbled, humming to himself a bit as he tried to think of how the hell they were going to get off this boat alive. He could beat Death, he had before once or twice.
I won't die here. But…
He glanced at John who was grimacing and squeezing at the crimson stains on his shirt, panting a bit as the group began to retreat to the back of the boat now.
Gunshots went off from behind the Pinkerton's and he knew it was the Callender boys and Sean providing support. About goddamn time! The dock was still accessible, though they would have to jump for it and hope they made it. No, too risky. Not while I can use her as a hostage.
"Javier, help John if he falls in the water, try to get to that dock, son. If you can. Micah, Jenny, you're with me, we're going to use this stupid whore to buy our freedom. We split up and we'll find each other eventually, we always do."
"Scattering right now ain't exactly the best move Dutch–" Micah complained, shuffling close behind Jenny as Javier helped John over the railing to the ferry towards the dock they had come from earlier.
"Micah, shut the fuck up or I'll put a hole in you after I'm done with her!" He snarled again, throwing Heidi into the wall but keeping his gun on her. His anxiety was reaching a fever pitch now, he felt like a rabbit caught in a snare with his only options being either allow himself to be captured or fight like hell and die. His wrist was shaking a bit now, as adrenaline coursed through him but his brain refused to cooperate with him, any where he looked for a way out, it seemed futile. We are all going to die if you do not get your head out of your ass.
"Please! I'll help you get out of here! I promise! Just trust me!" Her face was littered in tears as she fell to the floor with a thump and held her hands up shakily. She could feel her captor's tenseness, his terror though he tried to suppress it as best he could, and worried about the shaky weapon aimed at her head. Especially considering he had put his finger over the trigger now, even that bucked a bit against the metal as he breathed raggedly and growled between breaths.
"Trust you? After you sold us out to the goddamn Pinkerton's!" Micah turned his gun on her and she shied away from it, squealing and crying as he stuffed it against her turned back.
"Dutch!" Javier called out, realizing the empty docks were no longer empty but also full of Pinkerton's and now Landon Ricketts.
"Bastards!" John shouted back, lifting his revolver with his damaged arm and firing back as they all hit the ground again, bullets whizzing past them.
"FUCK!" Jenny shouted, collapsing to the ground and clutching her stomach, "I'm hit!"
"I gotcha Miss Kirk." Micah dragged her underneath him to shield her which infuriated both her and Dutch but it seemed Jenny was keen to let it go, if the bastard was willing to die for her, at least he was good for something.
"Micah, get off of her!" Javier snapped, crawling along the ground to cover the woman with his body as well.
"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP! ALLA YOU! I NEED TO THINK!" Dutch clutched the sides of his head, panting and snarling. He's going to take all of them from me, every last pawn on my board because he can! I need them goddamn it! I need them all if I'm going to stay in power! You promised me power! This was becoming too much now, even for him to deal with. And it didn't help that his mind was now going back to a situation he had found himself powerless in before too.
'DUTCH!'
NOT NOW ANNABELLE! FOR GODS SAKE NOT RIGHT NOW!
"Please…" Heidi reached out to touch him and he recoiled, pushing the gun firmly against her chin and huffing.
"DON'T FUCKIN TOUCH ME! JUST GET US THE HELL OUTTA HERE! NOOOOW!" He screamed, spitting as he did so and the girl squinted as she felt bits of his saliva hit her face. She moaned, nodding desperately as he grabbed her by the hair this time and hoisted her back up, placing the gun back to her temple and calling out to the dock again. "I WILL BLOW A GODDAMN HOLE THROUGH THIS POOR WOMAN IF YOU DON'T QUIT!"
The shooting stopped again as the gang stood up and Dutch yanked Heidi in front of him, keeping her as close to him as he possibly could. He was wild now, ready to do anything, say anything, and be anything he needed to be if it meant they were going to get off this boat in mostly one piece.
They made their way to the front of the boat now, to the plank that connected to the main dock and he made sure to keep his back on the wall as he slid around the corner and locked eyes with one of the Pinkerton agents. The shakiness had gone, replaced by cold confidence. Micah had Jenny who was bleeding very badly now, clutching one hand to her stomach and keeping one arm raised out at the army that had come to greet them. Javier and John rounded the corner as well, both men clinging to each other but keeping their own weapons raised as well.
"Give it up Van der Linde, we have you surrounded!"
"Gentlemen," He replied with a purr, still sliding along the wall with Heidi until he found a suitable place between a couple pallets to slink behind, "I don't want to hurt this nice lady, but if you don't get the hell out of my way and let me go…well…I'll kill every last person on this boat."
"You aren't–" An agent cried out, popping out of cover to take a shot at Micah and Jenny but was cut short when a single gunshot rang out and the man lurched forward over his cover.
Hosea.
The cover that the Pinkerton's were behind was no longer a suitable option as the gun fire started again, this time aimed at the remaining gang members who had come to the rescue. Hiding behind walls, crates, on the roofs of buildings.
We're going to be okay, Death has a tendency to lie anyway, you know that. After all, he's a tricky bastard.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Micah yelled, returning fire with John and Javier as Jenny clutched tightly to her wound, snarling and wildly firing her weapon until it was empty. "Kill that fuckin' rat, Dutch!"
He let go of the young woman's hair and pushed her into the wall of the boat, she shrank under his gaze, putting both her hands over her pregnant belly and looking at him pleadingly. Though, not that it would do her any good.
"Please–" Heidi managed to choke out, squinting her eyes shut for a moment as he exhaled loudly and squeezed the trigger without so much as a thought.
I am sorry, but I made a deal with the Devil a long time ago that I would lay corpses at his feet if he gave a young, foolish poor boy a taste of real power. Consider this a kindness, that I am freeing you of the harsh and cruel nature of reality. Your child will never have to know what a fucked up, savage, degenerate, and horrible world this supposed paradise really is.
"DUTCH!" John and Javier were both horrified, watching the woman slump to the floor as he coldly turned on his heels and lifted both his revolvers to provide enough of a distraction for Micah and Jenny to launch themselves off the boat and start making their way to where the gang had rallied for them.
He ducked behind cover, nearly slipping in the blood and brain matter that had spilled onto the floor. He couldn't even look at her corpse as he fished for more ammunition and began to reload both guns quickly.
"I did what I had to so we could survive. You and Javier make a run for it, give the money to Hosea when you see him and we'll all meet up again soon." He finished, snapping the open cartridge back and nodding to John.
"You…Dutch you…I thought we lived by a code…" John nervously looked at the corpse again and shivered, nearly vomiting at the sight of the girls left eye dangling from the socket.
"The code doesn't mean a goddamn thing if we don't get out of here, son. You think they," he motioned with his head towards the Pinkerton's, "live by a goddamn code?"