A/N: Chapter 8 was a little slow, but we needed to keep out of the firefight long enough to explain the next one. Arthur has a regular nine to five here, doing what we all know he does best. Slinging guns. A few reviewers guessed at Ghira's mysterious benefactor, but we won't discover that one just yet. Not with another mansion job on the horizon. If you thought the Braithwaite Manor was a doozy, wait until you see the next one!

Chapter 9

The prey didn't notice him. In the mid day heat, humans and Faunus were weary when outside, building their strange machines and giant homes. That weariness lowered their guards, and made them easy pickings for Grimm such as him. The Beowulf slowly crept through the underbrush, sneaking up on the Faunus that had gotten separated from the rest of its herd.

The man had a steer's antlers sprouting from his head, and had removed his shirt due to the day's heat. Clad in only a vest and light pants, there was no armor to dull his claws on, no hard points to chip his teeth. The prey stepped away from the large structure, wiping his brow and reaching for a bottle of water. His discomfort, the argument this morning with his girlfriend, and the general resentment of being stuck on an island all cultured a lovely blend of negative emotions. The Beowulf had no stomach, but he salivated nonetheless. He slowly eased through the brush, the construction going on around him masking his sound even as the shadows cloaked him from their sight. By the time he struck, it would be too late. There would be no one to save his prey, and only anger and sadness to be left behind. More negative emotions to feed on, and all he had to do was-

CRACK!

Whatever else the Beowulf had planned, a neat round the size of a half dollar punched through his bone mask, splattering his gray matter all over the tree behind him. The sudden gunshot startled the birds from the trees, and the Faunus that had been in danger looked up in surprise. When he saw the slumped form of the dissolving Beowulf, he turned and waved toward the hill on the outside of the perimeter. Atop the rise, Arthur waved back, his rifle smoking from the barrel and he racked the bolt and slid another round into the chamber. His Krag-Jorgensen rifle had sat idle on Famine's saddle for too long. It was bulky and kicked like a mule, but there was something to be said about shooting things that couldn't immediately get a hold of him. The mahogany stock was carved with the image of a howling wolf, and the barrel, sights, trigger, and bolt were all cast in black iron. Golden leaves and vines had been engraved into the metal as well, and the scope was nearly as long as the barrel itself. He'd found it on the corpse of one of the Braithwaites' guards during their con on the old southern family. Josiah Trelawny, a distant friend of the Van der Linde gang, had been taken hostage by a group of bounty hunters. After Arthur and Charles had 'convinced' the bounty hunters to give up Trelawny, quite a few guards had discovered their little killing spree.

The memories of the gang were bittersweet, even as Arthur scanned the construction for any more Grimm incursions. The creatures were few and far between considering the relatively good spirits of Kuo Kuana, but he'd still sent about fifteen of them to the afterlife that day alone. None had gotten close enough to hurt anyone, and Arthur was determined to keep it that way. The past three weeks had been both a bore and exciting at the same time. Unlike when he ran with Dutch and the others, Arthur wasn't exactly free to roam the countryside and get into all kinds of trouble like he had in America. On the flip side, however, exploring Kuo Kuana had yielded its own adventures and perks.

The first had come in the form of young Blake Belladonna, who had found him fishing one day. At first, the young girl had been shy and just watched him from afar, until Arthur got tired of eyes on the back of his head and called her out. Now, whenever he went fishing in his free time, the teen managed to find him. She'd asked him to usual questions, like how he and Sienna had met and where he had come from. Arthur and his current roommate had worked together a mostly airtight backstory of being a bandit on Sanctum for most of his adult life. It provided an out for all the wild stories he'd told, and all he had to do to make them believable was throw in a few Grimm or recognizable cities. Little Blake ate of the tales, often asking questions about why he had done this or what would have happened if he had done that. In most cases, Arthur had an answer ready for her. When he didn't, he told her why it was such a difficult choice.

Another benefit had been his fame among the White Fang. Tukson, Adam, and Sienna all told tales with some frequency, but his true claim to fame came from Felicia. The young girl had been the one he'd saved from going over a railing during the Sea Feilong attack. Whereas the others were more reserved in their story telling, Felicia couldn't stop singing praises about how the human had saved her from certain death and shot the eye out of a diving dragon. Every time the got told, he got bigger it seemed. By the time it reached Sienna's ears, the dragon had dwarfed the ship itself and fired laser beams from its eyes. As much as the praise pleased Arthur, Sienna was quick to set them straight when she heard any 'inflated' tales.

"There's no reason for his ego to get any bigger." Had been her reasoning. Arthur thought she was just jealous.

Living with Sienna had also come with its own trials. Indoor plumbing was a plus, no matter how new it was to him. He'd seen a few flushing toilets in Saint Denis, but having access to one every day made him reconsider going out into the wilderness. Every valve in the house brought water in some way, shape, or form it seemed. It had been a humorous sight indeed when Sienna had walked in on a fully grown man turning a faucet on and off in an attempt to figure out its inner workings. Technology truly was mind blowing, especially to a simple cowboy like him. The other thing that he learned, quite quickly he might add, was that one did not wear shoes in Sienna Khan's house. He'd made the mistake late one night getting back from patrol, and the dirt that had clung to his boots was found inside of them the next morning. Sienna explained that outdoor shoes of any kind made a house all the messier, and it was easier to keep clean if he just left them at the door.

Sienna also wore...different clothing when she was staying home. He'd only seen one day where she'd had the house to herself in the three weeks he'd spent on Menagerie, but it was not a day he'd soon forget. For a variety of reasons. Sienna's comfortable clothes consisted of a tight black top that left her shoulders and midriff bare, some exercise shorts that reached her mid thigh, and a strange black half coat that barely covered the underwear. She also wrapped her feet for when she had used a small training area outside, and the combination of acrobatics and sweaty Sienna had Arthur seeking extra duties around the wall, lest his mind enter dangerous territory. Arthur respected Sienna as a dear friend that had gone above and beyond to take care of him. He wasn't about to disrespect that friendship by staring at her in her small clothes. Even if she seemed to be art in its purest form.

Sienna had challenged him to a sparring match all of one time, and her training outfit aside, Arthur knew he'd be in hot water if he ever met her fist to fist. Arthur's fighting style relied on dirty tricks, hard blows, and using whatever he had on hand to win. Dirt from the ground, spit in the eye, boot to the groin; Arthur didn't win fights by playing fair. Stepping into a ring with nothing by his fists and his wits with a woman who lived and breathed martial arts was just foolhardy. He'd scrapped with Adam on a few occasions, and the young Faunus had proven himself capable in hand to hand combat. Arthur's Dead Eye was the only real way for him to take advantage, and even then it wasn't perfect. Adam had quickly learned to feint.

"Hey, Arthur!" A voice snapped him out of his reverie, and Arthur turned to see Tukson walking up the hill. Having officially retired from the White Fang, Tukson Stark was currently living off of Ghira's hospitality for the next few weeks until he could get a better grip on his finances. From what Arthur had heard, Tukson himself had been somewhat scarce, and burning through writing materials almost faster than Ghira could provide them. As the Faunus approached with a sheaf of paper in his hands, Arthur suspected he was about to find out.

"Tukson. What brings you into my woods?" Arthur called, resting his rifle across his elbow and pointing down. Tukson panted a little bit as he climbed the hill, but it seemed to be more from excitement than exertion. When he reached the top, he all but threw the papers he had into Arthur's hands.

"I wanted you to give it a read before I sent it off to a publisher. I gotta say, this is some prime material right here." Tukson looked ready to burst from excitement, wringing his hands as he looked at Arthur expectantly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Read it!"

"Alright, alright. Don't get pushy. And watch for critters, would ya? I'm on the clock right now." Arthur groused as he looked over the cover page, which only had a few lines of letters. There was no title that he could see, but there was a subtitle and an author listing. The subtitle read, "Flight from Blackwater," and the author was listed as Tacitus Kilgore. That more than anything caused Arthur to chuckle. He flipped through the pages, and found the story starting just as the gang had taken cover in Colter, the abandoned mountain town where Davey had died. Tukson was spot on with the description on Colter's cold and unforgiving winter. Reading the words on the page, corrections and typos aside, took Arthur back to those miserable days. He pulled himself out of it before he could get too immersed in going down memory lane. He shuffled the weighty stack of papers in his hands, then looked back up at Tukson.

"What the hell is this? The Biography of Dutch Van der Linde?" Arthur asked jokingly, but he couldn't help the conflicted emotions he felt at seeing his struggles put to paper. He'd known it would be publicized when he had handed it to the Faunus, but Tukson's love for literature had certainly done him favors when it came to capturing the scenes from Arthur's past.

"I thought you might like it, since you had the original source material. I can't thank you enough for this, Arthur. This could be just what I need to get my shop started." Tukson was nearly shaking with excitement. Arthur handed the papers back to Tukson just so the man would have something to do with his hands, and gave the perimeter another long, slow look before he turned back to him.

"That's pretty good. I almost felt like I was there for that one." He complimented. "You're obviously a better writer than me." The way he spoke, he made it clear that he wanted to be remembered as an author, not writing down a first hand account. That would lead to further questions that he didn't feel like answering. Tukson picked up on his enunciation, and thankfully didn't press further with it.

"I've sent the rough draft to a few publicists in Vale, to try and get a reaction. So far, those I've spoken to are excited to see the final product." Tukson paused, and stuck out his free hand. Arthur extended his own and shook it, though he didn't quite understand what the big deal was.

"I can't wait to see it." Arthur said with a grin. "Just make sure you keep that name of yours clean, mister Kilgore." Pen names were common even back in America, and it was a good way for those in less than ideal social situations to get their work out there. A lot of the books he'd read were worth nothing but dog shit, but Tukson looked like he had it in hand.

"I'll be careful. You know, if you come up with anymore..." Tukson trailed off as Arthur raised a hand, his eyes tracking a small little blob of black down in the valley. Another Grimm, this time a two legged Creep, was slowly making its way toward the wall and the builders that were adding to it. Arthur pulled his rifle up and peered through the scope, unaware of the golden glow his eyes had. Time slowed to a crawl, and he had the trigger pulled and the Creep dusted before it took a single step more. The creature screeched in pain and dove into the dirt, twitching once before it too began to disintegrate. The workers nearby looked up at the noise, then offered Arthur a couple of waves and salutes and went back to what they were doing.

"I'm glad we've got you up here." Tukson said honestly as Arthur racked the bolt. "Ghira says we'll be done in another week or so with so much progress. From what I've heard, Sienna has the succession all lined up. There's even talk of a mission once the dust settles." Even though he was getting out of the movement, Tukson still cared about the people in the White Fang. No one could take that from him, and even taking on a pen name he would always remember the people that had stood by his side. Arthur had to commend him for getting out however. The worse cause to fight for was the one you didn't believe in, and Tukson didn't believe in blowing up buildings or beating up mechs.

"Just doing my job, Tukson. Trying to stay out of the house at this point." Arthur grumbled. The man didn't need to hear about how Sienna was unintentionally spooking him out of the house, but somehow he could imagine that the man understood how intimidating it was to sleep on the Khan's couch.

"I'm sure it has its hardships." Was that jealousy in his voice? What did he expect, that they were playing hide the apple? Honestly, she'd probably break him at this point in their friendship. Arthur gave Tukson a dry look, and the Faunus held up his hands in surrender.

"It most certainly does." Arthur replied in a flat tone. "What's the matter with the title?" Tukson winced at that and rubbed the back of his head.

"I couldn't come up with a good title that stuck. Depending on how popular this one becomes, I may turn it into a series. I'll have a better idea once it makes it past the editor." Tukson sighed, looking out over Kuo Kuana. The afternoon was dragging on, and the sun was high in the sky, banishing shadows and showing the city for what it was. It was the best view of the Faunus capital of Remnant that Arthur had ever seen. If he hadn't given his journal to Tukson, it would have been a fine think to draw.

Come to think of it, Summer's scroll had a camera function, didn't it? Pulling the device from his satchel, Arthur held it up sideways so that it was taking a landscape style picture, then pressed the capture icon. There was a muted click, and Arthur looked down at his first picture taken on Remnant. Without his journal, maybe pictures and recordings would be the new way he recorded his travels?

"Well, I won't keep you any longer. Are you coming to the celebration tonight?" Tukson asked, earning a surprised frown from Arthur.

"We're having a party? I didn't know about that." He'd been pulling as many shifts as possible to avoid comfortable Sienna, which was far scarier than serious Sienna. Well, maybe not scarier, but definitely a threat to the status quo. It was her own home; what right did he have to tell her to put more clothes on?

"Yeah, it's a surprise for Sienna, I think. Apparently Ghira's springing the leadership on her early and starting his term as Chieftain. I thought someone would have told you by now. It's at the Chieftain's house at seven thirty." Arthur gestured toward the wilderness around them, and Tukson nodded in understanding. "I see."

"For what it's worth, is there really any other candidate for leader? Honestly, I mean? Ain't nobody else really stepped up to the plate that I've seen." Arthur squinted down as more movement in the trees attracted his attention. He relaxed, however, when it proved to be a flock of birds.

"The Lupin brothers have been around since the war, but they're even more extreme than Adam. As far as they're concerned, the Faunus are the next step in human evolution, and the previous generation needs to be purged. Real war hawks, the both of them, and they're too dedicated to the idea to make peace with the humans. They'll be some of Sienna's biggest obstacles when she takes over." Tukson shrugged. "Besides them, the only one else with any kind of power is Adam, but he's backing Sienna. He'd rather run missions than sit back and direct people."

The mention of the bull Faunus caused Arthur's brow to crease. He was on speaking terms with the teen, but they still had their disagreements. As far as Arthur was concerned, the boy was still far too militant when it came to human affairs. On the flip side, Arthur baffled Adam as a former bandit that preached change in people's lives. It was like listening to a shark talk about the benefits of veganism. Still, the boy didn't outright reject him every time they spoke, so Arthur had to assume that his words at least gave the teen something to think about.

"Tell you what: we'll poke around a little more tonight. What should I wear?" He had bought more clothes since coming to Menagerie, and had a few outfits similar to what he had worn in America. He had a puff tie and a necktie, both in black, and a few more formal clothes in case the event was really nice. Tukson waved him off, though.

"The White Fang don't usually put stock in fancy clothes. Wear whatever feels appropriate. We'd be hypocrites if we demanded everyone wear a suit and tie." Tukson winced at his mistake. "Uh, they would be, anyway." Arthur sighted up on another Creep that approached the wall, dropping it within fifty feet of the workers. He felt a little bad for Tukson, though. The man had been with the Fang for a long time, and they felt like a part of him. It was just like when Arthur had left Dutch's gang.

"It hurts, I know. But the Fang is in good hands. You have to live your life the way you see fit. We'll handle it from here." Arthur racked the bolt and looked through the scope again, making sure the Grimm didn't have any immediate friends. He'd learned that Creeps often traveled in groups. "Besides, you know you'll always have friends here. They understand why you need to leave."

"I know. It's just... I always thought I would see the White Fang succeed, but in the end I guess the fight outlived me. You don't think they'll hold it against me?" He didn't want to abandon them, nor did he want to look like that either. Arthur could understand that, given how traitors had been viewed in Dutch's gang. But Tukson had gotten his licks in. He deserved to retire.

"I have it on good faith that they will send you off with a smile, my friend. You earned it anyway. Go open your bookshop, sell some stories. Just know that if you ever need us, we'll be there for ya." Another dark shape caught his attention, and he reminded himself that he was still on guard duty. "Now get on out of here. I got critters coming through, and you have a book to finish. I'll see ya at the party." He gave the Faunus one last smile and nod, then peered through his scope intently.

"Yeah, thanks Arthur. Be careful up here!" He heard Tukson's receding footsteps as he swept for more Grimm. Sure enough, a second Creep was coming in from the western side, just on the edge of his zone. The other guards were clearly content to see if he could hit it. His vision washed gold as time slowed down, and he proved just who was the best shot on the island.

"Gotcha, you little bastard." He pulled the trigger once more, and another foul creature met its end from afar.

Three hours later, his shift was taken over by another sniper named Riza. She was a blonde Faunus from Atlas, apparently former military, and he could make out a few feathers amid her carefully maintained blonde hair. She took his post and bade him good night, advising him to 'get Lady Khan to relax for once'. Arthur just tipped his hat and grinned as Famine trotted away. Back when he'd first taken the job from Ghira, the trip back home had taken barely fifteen minutes, ten if he hurried. With Kuo Kuana's perimeter reinforced, it now took him nearly half an hour to reach the guarded entrances and pass through. It was a testament to what he had worked so hard to bring to Menagerie, and he didn't mind the trip in the slightest. The guards had been somewhat distrustful when he'd first come on, but now most of him greeted him with smiles and open friendliness. There were a few holdouts that just despised humans, but Arthur couldn't help that. All he could do was smile, wave, and shoot monsters.

Most of the people in Kuo Kuana recognized him, if not because he was one of the few humans on Menagerie then because he was a frequent patron to the city's only bar, the Watering Hole. The owners had caught some flak at first for the name, but their defense had been a humorous one. I've never seen a dive that wasn't one, and if they're gonna call us animals, we'll drink like animals! Despite the husband's spirited defiance, his wife made sure the patrons behaved. Kuo Kuana's police force had better things to deal with than drunks and bar brawls.

When Arthur reached the secluded path that led to Sienna's bungalow, it occurred to him that he had no idea how to get ready for a celebration without tipping her off. Sienna was no fool, and if he started digging formal clothing out she'd pin him to a wall until he squealed. But all of his things were in her house, so maybe he could enlist the others to draw her out while he stole his clothes. The different possibilities ran through his mind as he hitched Famine to a tree, patting the horse on his neck. He crossed the yard at a leisurely pace and walked up onto the porch, his boots thumping loudly on the wooden planks.

"Sienna?" He called. "You home?" When there was no answer, he inserted the key she had given him and turned the knob. The door opened almost with a slight whine, the hinges creaking gently as he stepped inside. The living room was first and foremost in the home, with a special mat set to one side exclusively for shoes. Seeing Sienna's boots right next to where he usually placed his own, Arthur could only wonder why she hadn't answered. He hadn't actually slept on the couch but for a few times, as Sienna did have a guest room. The couch itself had a dark wood frame with off white cloth cushions on it, and it sat next to a dark mahogany tea table. Both were low to the ground, lower than Arthur was used to, but it was apparently expected for visitors to sit on their knees at tables such as this. Because Arthur was the most extreme case of foreigner Sienna had ever met, she had decided against asking him to sit in such a way.

The rest of the living room consisted of a darker hard wood floor and was painted a calming cream color, not light enough to be considered feminine, but not so dark as to clash with the furniture. A simple fan sat above the table and was the same color. He'd seen Sienna turn it on, and it would spin on its own until it built up enough of a breeze to cool the room. The wonders of technology. A few other cloth chairs sat against the wall and the window, and a small white rug sat underneath the tea table. A few other homes that he had seen had also put huge scroll-like devices in their living rooms and watched the news, something like the moving picture show in Saint Denis. Sienna said that she didn't consider the service necessary, that it 'dulled the mind'. As if Arthur could make heads or tails of it anyway.

He walked through the living room and into a narrow hallway, painted the same color and with two doors on the right and one on the left. A bathroom at the end of the hall had a shower, toilet, and sink. The two doors on the right were a bed room and a workshop of sorts, whereas the one on the left was Sienna's bedroom. He stopped at the left hand door and knocked, expecting her to be changing or doing something equally expected.

"Sienna!" He called again. No answer. Figuring maybe she was out back, it gave him ample time to change into his formal outfit. Arthur shrugged and turned around to enter his room. There wasn't a lot of furniture in his room, only a full length mirror, a double bed with white sheets, a wooden chest at the foot of the bed, and two dressers along the inside wall. The outer wall had a window with white wooden blinds, and a single lamp provided light for him at night. Arthur stepped inside and opened the chest, shutting the door behind him.

Thirty minutes later, he was appropriately dressed for a formal affair. He had chosen to wear a charcoal town paragon hat with a red ring around the crown, his white french dress shirt, and a crimson faced vest with golden buttons. He wore his black necktie in a half Windsor knot, and his charcoal gray shotgun coat that he'd purchased in Saint Denis. He wore matching pleated slacks and some dark leather suspenders, and he traded his alligator fowlers for black wing tipped dress shoes. Arthur trimmed his beard to just a few inches and eliminated any stray hairs and combed his hair back, hoping that he was at least somewhat presentable. He kept his black gambler's belt and holsters, but left the bandolier behind. It was a formal event in a friendly city, so the chances of attack were miniscule.

Arthur stood in front of the mirror and fixed his tie, looking one last time for anything out of place. Content that he had managed to look like an actual human being for once, Arthur checked the old Reutlinger pocket watch. Six forty five. If he was going to bring Sienna with him, he needed to make sure she was ready too.

Arthur walked out of his room and fixed his coat, buttoning it twice to remind himself that it was a formal affair and his guns needed to remain in their holsters. He stepped forward and knocked on Sienna's door once more, this time with a little more force.

"Sienna?" He called, and was surprised to find the door unlatched. It swung inward a few inches, and Arthur found himself in a dilemma. If she was outside and found him poking around in her room, his nice outfit would be covered in mud and sticks from the beating he would receive. However, if she was somehow asleep in the early evening, it would be his responsibility to bring her with him. Why they'd kept it a secret from her, he had no idea.

Hesitantly peeking in, Arthur was both relieved and not to find that it was option two. Sienna was clad in her workout clothing, her feet wrapped and the skin tight shorts and top covering her striped form. She had fallen into bed and seemingly gone to sleep immediately. Her mattress was identical to the one in his room, though she had a little more space. Three dressers and a half mirror sat against the interior wall, and the two windows on the outer wall were closed and blinded. An ornate outfit hung from a white closet door, a more intricately decorated version of her usual wear. There also appeared to be a red shawl or cape that connected at the back, but it was difficult for Arthur to tell just by looking.

Stepping forward and exercising as much care as possible, he called her name once more. The steady, rhythmic breathing coming from the Faunus never changed, and he cursed her exhaustion. Whatever Ghira had put her through to prepare for leadership, it had taken a lot out of her. He stood at her bed, crouching down to look less like a looming stalker, even though that point was moot anyway if she woke up the wrong way. Determined to prevent that particular misunderstanding, he grabbed her shoulder and shook her gently.

Bad move.

Given that Sienna excelled at hand to hand combat, it was only too expected that her arm snatch his own from her shoulder and for her to roll over, dragging him onto the bed to follow his arm. Her back pressed against his chest as she used as much leverage as she could, pressing against him and angled his elbow in a painful way. He cursed as his wrist was torqued painfully and his arm trapped between her chest and armpit, her hands grasping his fingers and pulling them into opposite directions. His added weight and pained curses brought a little more awareness to the Faunus, and the pressure on his fingers lessened as she realized exactly where she was and who she had a hold of.

"Arthur?" Her voice was sleepy, but there was an edge of danger there. "Why are you in my bed?" Uh. Well, this was awkward. Trying to keep the heat from his face, Arthur cleared his throat and pulled futilely on his arm. She still had not released it.

"I tried to wake you up and you turned me into a pretzel. We have to meet the Belladonna family in less than an hour, so give me my arm back, woman!" He pulled again, and this time was rewarded with his limb. As Arthur rubbed his wrist to ease the soreness, Sienna sat up and looked over at her scroll on the bedside table next to her. The time read 6:54, and her eyes widened in panic.

"Oh no! I was supposed to be dressed already!" She stood up and onto the floor, her wrapped feet darting past Arthur as the sudden motion made him lose his balance and fall back onto the bed. Struggling free for a second time, Arthur stood up and fixed his ruffled collar and lapels, clearing his throat and trying to forget the way she had made him tap out while she herself was asleep. Or the feeling of her warm body pressed to his...

"I'll be outside." He barked as she bustled around the room, getting out of her way while she grabbed all sorts of different things from their respective places. Sienna didn't seem the type for makeup or eye shadow, but every woman had a few things that she wanted to change. Putting as much space between himself and the rushing Faunus as he could, Arthur decided that now was the perfect time to brush Famine's coat until the damned horse glowed. He did exactly that too, taking care to avoid getting any dirt on his coat or vest. Twenty minutes passed as he heard thumping and cursing within the house, all the while he made damned sure to erase the image of a sleeping Sienna Khan from his mind. She'd been so peaceful, wrapped up in her sheets without a care in the world. It was something that he realized would be hard to forget, whether he wanted to or not.

"I'm ready." Gone was the note of panic in her voice, replaced by her usual calm confidence. When Arthur turned around, Sienna was wearing the ornate dress he had seen hanging up. Now that he could actually see it on her, the outfit made more sense. A wide padded belt wrapped around her middle, trimmed in crimson and white and colored black. Her robe fully came down to her calves instead of her thighs, and the inside was colored white instead of black. The slits near her hips were absent as well, restricting her movement but providing a more professional image. Her shoulders were bared by her white top, but the crimson shawl he had seen was wrapped around the back of her neck and joined to her dress in three places by small gold rings. Her hair was brushed and controlled from the bedraggled state she had been in previously, and her eyes shone in the dimming light of the evening.

Arthur got caught staring too.

"Sorry about all that." She apologized, clearly more frustrated with herself than him. "I was training with Ghira today, and I must have been more tired than I had first thought." Arthur nodded, accepting her apology gracefully and rubbing his face.

"If that's how you sleep, I don't know how anyone can sneak up on you. I didn't mean to come in on you like that, though." He shrugged helplessly. "My bad." A little color dusted her face, and she punched him in the shoulder hard enough to shift his weight. He chuckled nonetheless.

"It's fine, I suppose." She sighed, then looked back toward the path. "I hope we're not late. The dinner is a private affair, but tardiness does not become of a leader." So, they had at least invited her to something. Given how prone they were to gossip, Arthur was amazed that anyone had managed to keep the celebration a secret from her. Then again, he'd only found out that same day, so maybe they were actually trying this time. Shaking his head and fixing his hat, Arthur held out an arm expectantly. Sienna gave him an amused look, then glanced back at his trusty steed.

"No Famine today? I thought cowboys rode their horses everywhere." She took the arm nonetheless, looping hers through and walking alongside him as they headed down the path. Arthur shook his head even as the horse whinnied, apparently as surprised at being left behind as Sienna had been.

"Sometimes you just gotta do things yourself. If I'm gonna escort a lady, then he can stay home." She snorted at the title of lady, and Arthur could only chuckle as well. "Besides, who knows what he would get up to." Knowing Famine, the horse would be on top of the mansion by the night's end.

"I suppose I must trust a gunslinger to escort me home then." She sighed dramatically, knowing full well which of them was the more dangerous. Arthur was confident in his abilities, especially with the promises the gunsmith had made, but Sienna could do more as she was now than he was capable of fully armed. She was escorting him, not the other way around. Still, they were a matching pair, and when they found the main street, Arthur saw that they were not the only ones on the way to Ghira's palace. Pairs and groups of equally dressed Faunus chatted quietly and walked up the hill. The police force was out in full uniform as well, with multiple officers standing at strategic points along the street. There was little chance of any mischief, but it was a good time to show off their dress uniforms. Sienna looked around in surprise, then closed her eyes and shook her head.

"A private dinner. I can't believe I fell for that." She gave Arthur a questioning look. "Did you know about this?" He could have played the fool, but he knew her policy on honesty well enough by now. Besides, what harm was there?

"Only found out today. If Tukson hadn't said something, I wouldn't have known at all." He shoved his shoulder against her lightly, enough to push her over a step but not imbalance her entirely. "Guess they can keep a secret if they try." She nudged him back, reminding him not for the first time that she had strength to spare. The doors to Ghira's new home were opened wide to accommodate the guests, and Arthur found himself wondering how Sienna had missed such a gathering. When he whispered the question, the woman turned her head with a huff.

"He did this on purpose. Every day, he's been bringing me to the same room to go over leadership. Everything from ethics to wages to hand to hand combat. He was deliberately distracting me from this." She was indignant, but Arthur knew it wasn't serious. If what Tukson said was true, then half of this party was in Sienna's honor. He could tell she had a feeling for what was to come, and she nodded and waved to the people that recognized her with a genuine smile. A few people seemed surprised to find Sienna Khan with a human on her arm, but most had gotten used to his presence. As for Arthur? He was walking into the biggest building on Menagerie, invited to a party celebrating a new Chieftain, and he had Sienna Khan on his arm. Col O'Driscoll rising from the grave couldn't ruin this for him.

"Looks like quite the party. I almost feel out of place." At her pointed look, Arthur shook his head. "Not like that. The last ball I attended was for an Italian crime boss, and we wound up killing him. An outlaw like me doesn't get invited to things like this." He waved to another group of Faunus that stood near the door. They passed through the first set of doors and entered a small foyer, where a few more guards stood with a small Faunus girl in a basic set of dark red robes. Arthur expected a guest list at first, until he realized that this was a part where everyone was invited. A host with a guest list would have been a moot point.

"May I take your coat sir?" The young girl stepped forward, her cheeks covered with scaly patches. Arthur stepped away and removed his hat and coat and handed them over, then looked at Sienna. When she returned it, he realized that her outfit wasn't meant to come apart. When the young girl saw that Sienna Khan herself stood before her, her exposed skin changed to a deep blue. It surprised Arthur at first, and it took a while to come to him: chameleon Faunus. Well don't that just beat all. He mused. He offered her a grin to show he meant no harm, but the starstruck young girl was focused solely on Sienna.

"Illia, it's rude to stare." Sienna chastised with a wink, and the young girl literally turned pink with embarrassment. She stepped back and bowed anxiously.

"S-sorry, Lady Khan! I meant no offense." The young girl apologized profusely. She looked up in confusion when Sienna chuckled.

"It is fine, Amitola. Thank you for doing a wonderful job." Sienna walked past and took Arthur's arm once more, leaving young Illia blushing profusely and trying to get her pigmentation under control. Arthur guided the tigress to the next set of doors, but he couldn't resist teasing a little.

"Someone has a fan." He whispered, and she ignored him with a roll of her eyes. Leave it to Arthur to poke and prod. Past the second set of doors, a large atrium opened up and took up a majority of the building, from what Arthur could see. Several long tables at along the walls and in the center of the room, with another table set perpendicular to the others in the back. Quite a few people were already seated, while still more meandered through the room in small groups. Twenty feet above them and clinging to a ladder, Blake Belladonna was still in her working pants and shirt and trying to wire something into a speaker. The young girl waved when she saw Sienna and Arthur, then went right back to anxiously connecting the sound system. It seemed that even Ghira had delays.

Besides the cat on the ladder, everything else looked prepared. A small table in the corner provided light beverages and snacks, though the main course would come through later. Seating appeared to be open, though Arthur was certain that the head table had reserved seats for the Belladonna family and Sienna. Arthur doubted that he'd have a seat up there, and wasn't sure he'd be comfortable if he had. There were a lot of eyes on Sienna and Ghira tonight, and Arthur didn't usually do well in the spotlight.

"Shall we find a seat?" Sienna offered, noticing how he scanned the room. She must have picked up on his apprehension and took the lead, guiding Arthur through the crowd of people. Quite a few stopped them and exchanged pleasantries, but thankfully Sienna was able to talk them down politely. It still took a few minutes to reach the back wall though. A small piece of folded paper stood in front of each chair, and Sienna Khan's name was proudly displayed next to Ghira Belladonna's. Arthur pulled the seat out for her and stood back, allowing her to sit and pushing her back in. There was no such seat for him, but Arthur stood nearby to keep her company.

"Quite the crowd tonight. Feel's like the whole island is here." Arthur said in mild disbelief. He'd been told that Kuo Kuana had some rocking parties, but seeing it was another thing altogether. Sienna, however, seemed more anxious than pleased at the number of people still entering the room.

"No pressure, Arthur. It's not like I'll be leading them or anything." She snarked, and Arthur chuckled in response. She was nervous, and rightfully so, but he knew just from looking around that there was nothing to worry about. The people here respected Sienna, sought her praise and had nothing but well wishes for her. And he knew for a fact that she cared deeply for all of them, even the outliers like Adam and the Lupin brothers. The Faunus were her people, and she would do everything in her power to help them. Tonight, that meant taking over the White Fang.

"Sienna! I see you received my invitation!" Ghira's deep voice was heard from the side, and Arthur turned to see the large man walking toward them from behind the table. Arthur barely got out of the way so that Sienna could stand once more, and they both shook Ghira's hand when offered. Just as it had been the last few times, his grip was absolutely crushing.

"Despite your best attempts to train me into a coma, yes." Sienna smirked, and Ghira laughed.

"The final lesson of leadership, I'm afraid. No matter how tired you are, there will always be more to do." He looked her up and down, though there was no hunger or lust in his eyes. Nor should there be, if his wife was to be judged. "You appear to haved learned well."

"I did have some help, I'm afraid." Sienna nodded toward Arthur. "Without my live in gunslinger, I'd likely still be recovering." The admission brought some color to her cheeks, and both Arthur and Ghira chuckled at her expense.

"I don't think Ghira would have left ya like that. He'd miss out on watching you twitch like caught mouse." Arthur jeered, and earned an elbow to his hip for the effort. He had to get his ribbing in now, though. Once the proceedings started, the professional Sienna would come out and he'd watch her be the hero that everyone thought she was. Hell, Arthur thought she was pretty amazing too.

"As much as I enjoy the small talk, I'm afraid we do have some business to discuss before the party really begins. Mr. Morgan, please enjoy the festivities. If you have need of anything, myself or Kali would be happy to help." Ghira dismissed him with a respectful nod, which Arthur returned. Before he left her side, he gave Sienna a reassuring squeeze.

"You got this, boss. I believe in ya." The woman took a deep breath and released it, then tried to return his confident smile.

"We made it this far. Now the hard part begins. Thank you Arthur." She patted his hand, and he left the two Faunus to discuss the big decision. Figuring it would be best to find a wall and a seat, Arthur skirted the wandering groups of people, nodding and greeting his way to the edge so that he could better navigate the room. Another set of double doors had been opened, and Arthur found himself in some kind of recreation room with more tables and a bar. A charcoal haired monkey Faunus stood behind the bar, polishing a glass and watching for any youngsters that might try to get into the alcohol. Truly, the Belladonnas were showing their appreciation by opening their home to their people.

"Can I help you sir?" The Faunus asked politely. Arthur stepped forward and let his eyes wander over the selection, though he didn't admit that most of the names eluded him. He knew Kentucky bourbon and Tennessee whiskey, but they had Atlesian Malt and Vacuan brandy here. Figuring the bartender knew best, Arthur waved a hand and set down some lien.

"Whatever is your favorite. It's a party after all." The man nodded and drew up a dark bottle, but he was moving too fast for Arthur to catch the label. While the man prepared a glass and poured, Arthur leaned against the bar with a grin. So far, everything was going alright. His friend was about to be made leader of a civil rights group, the people here didn't treat him like a mangy dog, and there were no Pinkertons, O'Driscolls, or Murfrees anywhere around to harass him and his. He could deliver the Relic in a few more weeks, then see about returning to America to undo Dutch's mess. There was plenty to do on the horizon, but now?

"Here you are sir. Mistralian Firewater." The bartender set a shot glass down, an amber liquid daring Arthur like a challenge. The gunslinger picked it up and sniffed it, detecting some cinnamon and maybe some whiskey.

"To peace and progress." Arthur toasted, and knocked it back.

The woods around Beaver Hollow were the bad kind of quiet. Normally, the forest was buzzing with life. Squirrels, chipmunks, opossums, and even the occasional deer or four made the woods a lively place in day or night. Now, however, the shouting and arguments in Dutch's camp had long since scared away the wildlife. Summer sat in a tree above the camp, watching them all with a tired sigh. Saddened by the news of Arthur's death and demoralized by the constant bad luck, some of Dutch's gang had up and left in the wee hours of the night. Mr. Pearson, Karen, Uncle, and Mary Beth had all vanished, too loyal to Dutch to turn traitor but too afraid to stay with him and die. The Pinkertons were putting pressure on Dutch, and from what she could see Micah was the only one in camp allowed in their leader's tent. She watched him prowl around, poking at everyone's insecurities and doing his best to create friction between the remaining members. Charles, John, Abigail, and Sadie had taken one side of the arguments, sticking together and doing their best to protect young Jack. On the other side of it, Javier, Bill, and Micah were steadfast in their loyalty to Dutch, and the man himself had taken notice. Charles was going out nearly every day in order to catch enough food to eat, but Javier or Bill would go with him to make sure that he returned. Javier just hunted and helped as needed, but Bill's fear of Indians did not play well with Charles' mixed heritage. They'd threatened each others lives a few times already, but Dutch's heavy hand had prevented bloodshed so far. John was tasked with blowing up a bridge up in the Grizzlies. Summer had watched him leave, and she'd made sure to keep extra watch on Jack. The boy had a consistent cough that was unsettling, and she hated to think of where it might have come from.

Dutch himself was behaving like a crazed man, storming around camp with feverish eyes and a constant snarl. He would shout randomly at Abigail or Ms. Grimshaw, and leave camp with Micah at all hours of the night. Summer watched him closer than anyone else, struggling to find the man that Arthur had respected so much. She hadn't seen any sign of him, however. Currently, she was watching for any sign that John was about to leave. Apparently, Abigail had mentioned something about the money Dutch had saved up. Summer's lip reading wasn't exactly up to snuff so she only got bits and pieces, but Abigail hinted at a large sum of money deep in the caves. That presented another dilemma, however. If Jack's persistent cough was TB, considering he'd followed Arthur around like a second father, then that money would do them no good in Vacuo. She could only open the path one more time without arousing suspicion, and Summer was hoping to keep that in reserve. Any more portals to another world, and Salem would notice. Honestly, Summer wasn't certain how the witch remained ignorant of the ruins' power given her apparent knowledge of history, but maybe the Kingdom that had created the gateway had fallen before Salem's rise to power. Either way, the Queen of the Grimm would kill Jack far faster than a case of Tuberculosis. And if she stayed to defend them, all the running to America would have been for nothing.

While Summer considered her options, the underbrush rustled with movement. The Huntress peered down silently, thanking the Gods that most people never looked up. Down below her, a bald man in a dark vest and pinstripe pants watched over the camp. If she could guess, Summer assumed that this was the illustrious Agent Milton. The man along with his partner, Agent Ross, had been harassing the Van der Linde gang since their days at Horseshoe Overlook. According to camp gossip and what little she could find out in Annesburg and Van Horn, the Pinkerton Detective Agency was under the employ of Leviticus Cornwall, a railroad magnate with a serious chip on his shoulder concerning Dutch Van der Linde. With the man himself directly beneath her, Summer had to agree that there was at least a professional reason for him to be there. Agent Milton was not very well liked by Arthur according to the gunslinger's journal, and he'd approached and threatened Arthur when the outlaw had taken Jack fishing. Summer may have left her own children behind in her husband's care, but she loved them dearly. Casually threatening kids was a good way to piss off Summer Rose.

Milton watched the Van der Linde camp intently, blissfully unaware of the very capable Huntress above him. He carried a small notebook with him, but the night was a little dark to be writing anything down. He still tried, likely to decipher later once he was further away from danger.

Milton scribbled and watched intently, cataloging the movements and interactions of the group. At first, that's all Summer thought he was doing and was content to let him. Once the Marstons were gone, it wouldn't be her problem anyway. What happened thirty minutes into his watch, however, changed her mind quickly.

During his vigil, Milton's attention was attracted by the sound of footsteps nearby, but he turned to face them so calmly that they could only have been suspected. Summer's eyes widened in the darkness when none other than Micah Bell stepped out of the shadows, climbing up the hill as quietly as he could. John was on watch near the entrance to the camp and Charles wasn't due back from hunting for another hour, which meant that Micah was relatively unwatched in camp.

"What else do you have for me?" Milton asked insistently, and Micah balked as if offended. As Summer continued to listen, however, she saw that he was simply being sarcastic.

"Oh yes, pump those teats, Agent. See what else you can get from me." He threw his hands up in the air. "What more do you want from me? The gang's split right down the middle, and Marston and his little whore are talking about making a run for it. The veteran and the greaser are sticking with Dutch for now." Milton wrote down what Micah said, tapping his pen against the notebook incessantly as he did so.

"What about Morgan? He's not been seen in weeks." Milton demanded. Summer knew the truth, but nonetheless she did not enjoy the greasy smile that spread across Micah's face.

"Black Lung finally died, according to Adler. He was supposed to be busting Marston out of the pen with her, but apparently that little cold he had was more permanent than he acted." Micah punctuated his explanation with a glob of spit hitting the tree next to him. "Dutch has been real broke up about it. It's part of why everything is going to hell for him. He don't even notice when I leave."

"This is my chance to bury Van der Linde. We'll award you the bounty for Morgan, but I need Dutch and Marston alive. If you can convince them to work with you, I'll pardon Escuella and Williamson." Milton have Micah a pointed look. "Can you draw him out here, separate him from the rest?" Micah rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment before he shrugged.

"He's been so paranoid the past few weeks that he thinks the whole gang is out to get him. I can probably lure him out here, but it will only happen once. What about the rest of them, Smith, Grimshaw, and the negro woman?" He smiled another venomous grin. "What about little Marston?" If Milton was unsettled by the absolute monster of a man he was dealing with, he didn't show it. Up above them, Summer's mouth flooded with bile. She detested them both, but Micah Bell was proving to be every bit of a snake that Arthur had professed.

"Casualties happen in arrests like this all the time. Once the lead starts flying, Dutch and Marston are the only ones we need alive. Do what you feel you need to." He allowed dismissively. Summer had to actually take a breath when she heard that, and missed the next few sentences in the conversation. Micah wanted to kill little Jack? For what, some petty revenge because Abigail wouldn't sleep with him? The very notion of it made her blood boil, and she knew now how this was going to play out.

The two men never knew what hit them. One second they were plotting the demise of the Van der Linde gang, the next they were on the ground. Summer dropped from her perch and drove a foot into each man's back, driving their bodies to the ground and the breath from their lungs. Micah reacted more quickly than Milton, going for his guns, but neither could draw fast enough to stop Summer from kicking them in the face. Summer used a little bit of Aura too, enjoying the jarring feeling of a hard kick right to the face. When they both slumped to the ground, she looked down at them with barely concealed disgust. No matter how cut off it was from Salem, this country was full of unsavory people. Were it not for people like Arthur and Sadie and the Marstons, she'd have taken her chances with Salem's forces. Summer stooped down and picked the two men up, wincing at the prospect of even touching such terrible people. Still, this was her chance to free the Marston family from Dutch's grip. She was running out of time, anyway.

Jumping down into the clearing wasn't really advisable, so she settled for walking in through the southern path. Summer considered waiting until Charles returned, since he was friendly to Arthur and the Marstons, but she couldn't reliably keep her two prisoners unconscious quietly. Hopefully he was close by, because if the shooting started she would need all the help she could get. John was on watch above the path, leaning up against a tree and surveying the land. She whistled to get his attention, but he was already looking her way. His eyes bulged out to almost comical proportions when he saw the woman that had broken him out of Sisika Penitentiary with one man over his shoulder and another under her arm. He dropped down to her level, sliding across the moss, but thankfully kept his repeater down.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He rasped, examining the two men in her custody. "Is that...Micah?! And Agent Milton?" Summer nodded once, her usual playful smirk absent as she pointed her chin towards the camp.

"This is how you get out, John. We don't have a lot of time, but if Dutch is too preoccupied dealing with Micah's betrayal, you and your family can slip away." She shifted Micah's body on her shoulder so she could pull a map free from her pocket. It was a detailed survey of the hills around Beaver Hollow, and she had marked the ruins she had used before with Arthur with a small 'X'. "Meet me here, and I can take you where Dutch will never find you." John looked at the map, hesitant to touch it, then back up at her. He did it a few more times, then reluctantly took the paper from her.

"How can you know that? There's nowhere that Dutch won't follow a traitor. Even if I never done nothing against him, he'll be after us." John questioned, and Summer decided that enough was enough. They were about to find out anyway, and she needed them as cooperative as possible. Besides, if she had her way, Micah and Milton would be dead before the night's end.

"Because Arthur's not dead, and Jack soon will be if you don't take my help." She admitted, steel conviction in her words as she looked John Marston dead in the eye. His mouth fell open, but his eyes hardened as he gripped his repeater even tighter.

"You're lying." Summer shook her head, but John was already backing up. "There's no way he survived. If he really had TB, then he's long gone by now. And why would Jack be in danger? He just has a cough, and..." Realization set in, and John gritted his teeth. "No, no no no. That can't be right!"

"I don't know for certain, but I know he's showing symptoms. I was watching your camp when these two had their meeting. I can't help him unless I take you to Arthur." She started walking past him, and this time he did nothing to stop her. "You may want to see how this ends. No matter what we do here, this is the end of the Van der Linde gang." She said it with sad finality, but her expression was cold. Contrary to her time as a Huntress, she didn't see the gang as evil; well, most of them anyway. In the changing times of America, these were the people that were trying to get by. The government was unreliable and the frontier full of dangerous and selfish people. People like Micah and Agent Milton, for example. There were bad people on Remnant as well, but Summer was confident that the Marstons could thrive there.

"Alright." She heard him fall in step behind her. "You still owe me an explanation, but I guess we have to do this now. I'll get Abigail and Jack packed up." He got ahead of her, not quite sprinting but definitely moving with a purpose. She considered stalling to give him more time, but half the reasons he was even setting foot in camp at all was to distract Dutch and the others so John's family could escape. With that in mind, Summer marched forward.

There was already a clamor in camp as John hustled around his horse, and Summer could hear Abigail demanding answers from him. Sadie stood with Tilly and Miss Grimshaw across the clearing from the Marstons, and appeared unaware of what was happening. When she saw Summer, however, her hand dropped to her pistol as she nodded slowly. Thankfully the man had a brain in his head and quieted her down, but by the time she was on board with the plan Dutch had come out of his tent to see what the ruckus had been.

From Summer's new perspective, Dutch Van der Linde had definitely seen better days. His pristine clothes were sullied and muddy and clearly had been worn for days at a time. His skin was pale and his face gaunt, thinned by both stress and undernourishment. His eyes were red and beady, and passed over her more like a beast than a man. Summer walked straight into the middle of camp, stopping just in front Dutch. For a long time, no one said anything, and the two just stared each other down. Summer didn't want to be the first to speak, but Dutch's hand twitched a few times too many towards his holster.

"Mr. Van der Linde." She said simply. "I think you have a rat problem." To emphasize her point, she dumped Micah and Milton beside each other in the dirt. Micah landed with a pained groan, but Milton remained silent. She must have hit him harder than she had thought. Dutch looked down at the two downed men, and she could already see the anger and rage once he recognized them both.

"What...is...this?" He demanded, his voice low and dangerous as he stared at the Huntress in disbelief. Summer didn't blame him, considering all the trials the man had gone through. The added bonus of a small woman bodily throwing his second in command and a Pinkerton agent onto the ground in front of him didn't make things any clearer.

"The last act of a dying man. Arthur Morgan sends his regards." She stepped away from Micah and the agent, desperate to be rid of their stench. "Mr. Bell here has been feeding information to the Pinkertons for some time now, and he's been planning to set you up." Summer kicked the man she spoke of in the stomach, bringing him back into the land of the living as he coughed and sputtered. "He wanted to lure you into the woods so that the Pinkertons could capture you, and John too. He wanted to kill Abigail and Jack, and possibly Tilly too. And Agent Milton was going to spare him from all criminal charges." Dutch looked down at Micah for a long time, a storm of emotions crossing his face. When he looked up at her, however, all she saw was sorrow.

"Arthur sent you?" He asked. "Arthur is dead. My boy is dead, and you're telling me he sent you?!" Dutch barked desperately, trying to find the sense in any of this. He'd been betrayed by everyone, and now this strange woman brought Micah and a Pinkerton into his camp and accused her of colluding? And Arthur had sent her?

"He saved my life, a few weeks ago. His last dying wish was that John Marston and his family get away from you." Summer brushed her cloak aside to reveal her blade. Dutch twitched as she rested her hand on it. "I'm here to make sure that happens. Don't make this worse than it has to be." Dutch's face purpled, and the sound of Abigail's horse attracted his attention. John had loaded up Abigail and Jack onto her horse and was pulling his own around, clearly ready to leave at a moment's notice. The scarred outlaw stopped when he saw Dutch staring, however.

"So, you're just going to leave." Dutch simmered. His eyes narrowed as he flared his palm, dropping it down to hover just above his revolver. Behind him, Javier and Bill emerged from the tent he'd been in. "You're going to abandon me like everyone else, huh John?" Summer tensed as he moved, flaring her Aura in response. But the shot that pierced the night did not come from Dutch, but right behind her. Pain blossomed in Summer's head as a round drilled into her skull, her Aura the only thing saving her from an instant lobotomy. It was still enough to knock her off balance, and the follow up shot to her back hurt almost as much.

Spinning on instinct, her sword came free and remove Agent Milton's hand and pistol from his wrist, reversing the blade and severing his head on the return stroke. She moved like quicksilver, and stood over his beheaded body before anyone else could react. Apparently he had been faking his wound, but now there was no faking death. What was worse, everyone in camp had seen her take a shot to the head and survive. John and Abigail took the gunshots as an indicator to run, but Dutch, Miss Grimshaw, and Tilly were all struck dumb by the invincible woman before them. Javier swallowed visibly, and Bill cursed loudly. Neither drew their weapons, though she could tell that they wanted to.

"You're a monster." Dutch stammered, stepping back and drawing his weapon with a shaky hand. "Arthur couldn't have sent you! You're not human!" He fired once, off target, but Summer reacted quick enough to deflect the round anyway. In the same motion, she cut Micah's side wide open. The man woke from his stupor and curled into himself, cursing and crying out in pain as blood instantly stained his black leather coat. Dutch fired again in response to the traitor's cries, and succeeded only in putting another hole in the deceased Agent Milton's head. Summer ran forward before he could squeeze off the third, and Dutch couldn't react in time before she laid a shallow gash across the back of his head, forcing him to drop his gun. Dutch staggered back from her, fear evident on his pale face as he tripped on a stray rock. She slowly stalked forward, her eyes on his second gun, and was already moving when Dutch reached for it. Another slice parted his holster and dumped the pistol onto the ground. It also carved a fair bit of flesh from the man's palm.

With both hands injured, Dutch could only slump forward and hold the wounded limbs up out of the dirt. Summer kept her blade on hand, but she no longer pointed it Dutch's way. She didn't need to. He was broken, if not by Arthur's fate and everyone else leaving him, then by Micah's betrayal. Dutch Van der Linde was a sad, broken man.

"Fine." He growled. "Fine! Go on, then! Run like the scavengers you are! I don't need such disloyalty in my presence!" Summer let him rage, content to merely sit and make sure he didn't hurt anyone else. Another gunshot rang out behind her, and she stepped to the side to see what had happened. She found Sadie standing over Micah's bleeding corpse, a fresh hole burned into his temple as she holstered her revolver.

"That was for my home, you twisted animal!" She spat onto his body, then walked away toward the directions the Marstons had gone. "Javier, Bill! We gotta get outta here before the rest of the Pinkertons show up!" If Milton had been discovered missing, then Beaver Hollow was about to be crawling with the law. Standing over Agent Milton's dead body was a good way to get shot in those circumstances, and not even Summer could take rounds forever. Bill and Javier exchanged uncertain looks as Sadie mounted her horse, but eventually some kind of unspoken agreement passed between them.

"We're getting Dutch out of here." Javier said firmly, stepping toward to get between his leader and Summer if necessary. She made no move to do anything else to the broken man, but Bill looked ready to step in as well.

"They'll kill you all." Summer stated matter-of-factly. "You realize that." Javier swallowed hard and kept his hand on his pistol.

"No disrespect, ma'am." He said seriously. "But we'll find our own way out. Can't have you killing all of us." Beside him, Bill racked the slide of his shotgun in warning.

"Best you clear on out of here, witch. It only gets violent if you stay." He didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell at beating her, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try anyway. He and Javier were both ready to die for Dutch. Their faith in him was that strong. They were that blind. I'm only here for the Marstons. Summer reminded herself. The rest of them are on their own. Summer could year yelling coming from the forest; Sadie's prediction of more Pinkertons seemed to be accurate. Slowly and deliberately, Summer sheathed her sword, and gave Dutch one last look. His eyes were full of confusion and terror as he stared right back, and she just shook her head. What a pitiful sight. His paranoia had driven everyone from him, and he was no longer the honorable man that Arthur had loved and respected. Summer turned and strode purposefully out of the clearing and into the forest, fully expecting a shot in the back. Considering what had happened to the last man that had pull the trigger on her, she didn't blame them when it never came.

A/N: Arthur's weapons are on the back burner until next chapter, simply because I wanted to get these two plot points out of the way first. I won't be doing swords or a rifle that turns into two pistols, even though that sounds really cool. Arthur's been using wheel guns his whole life, and his new weapons will reflect that style. He will have one newer style weapon, and the rest will simply receive Dust-compatible upgrades. No need to mess with his already efficient system. Let me know what you guys think and as always, have a fantastic day.