Let me tell you a story about a woman who fell into two crowds: the good and the bad.
Of course, there are pros and cons to each category, but I suppose it only depends on the way you look at it...
TW!: guns, depiction of murder, alcohol use
The trigger warnings are back!
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"Bounty Raised! Kam O'Driscoll -- $15,000 -- Wanted Dead or Alive -- Visit Any Sherrif's Office for More Detail"
A pair of rough, beaten hands clenched the New Hanover Gazette until it wrinkled so violently that the words disoriented on the smooth paper. Black fingerless gloves covered the palms, running up to the wrists, and then showing bare skin from joint to joint. His fingernails were dirty, scrubbed rotten with germs and Earth as if he hadn't washed them in days. But, seeing as it was 1899 in New Hanover, sinks weren't easy to come by on a regular basis.
The smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat stuck to his body like flees on a dog, and lack of a large wardrobe didn't help with the stench. A white undershirt, a black vest, and a green necktie seemed to be the only thing Colm O'Driscoll wore lately. Of course, Kam was usually the one to bring him peace offerings in the form of clothes, but ever since he banished her, supply has been low. The first thing Colm noticed as soon as Kam was gone was the lack of money in the lockbox. Usually, at least $100 would be placed in his money stash per week, but lately it's been an average of $37.82 down to the exact dollar. Chores were rarely done, weapon stashes had been suspiciously low, and there were little to no medical supplies.
"Would someone like t' tell me why the hell I am reading about Kam when she is supposed t' be in custody?" Colm's loud, deafening voice echoed around his camp, heads all turning eagerly towards their leader. Colm's feet dropped from their propped position on a table, standing up to examine his suddenly still camp. No one dared to move.
"Hm? No one?" his voice sounded all too happy and calm. He was waiting for an answer, and no one was giving it to him; Colm became impatient.
"W-We sent Lousey and Harlen out to deliver her to the Sheriff's department-" one O'Driscoll seemed brave enough to give him an answer. What a stupid, stupid mistake.
"And who the hell was watchin' them?" Colm's hands found their way to his belt, resting on the leather by his thumbs.
"No one, I s'pose..." the same man answered again. Those would be the last words that O'Driscoll would say before his forehead obtained a red, leaking hole. The camp, still silent, now gained a sense of intensity as the 'brave' O'Driscoll fell to the ground; smoke left Colm's silver handgun like a river as it poured out of the barrel and drifted into the sky.
"I want her out of the picture, understan'?" he slid his gun back into the holster hanging off his right hip, a hand hovering over the weapon just in case. Multiple nods and 'yeah's were said throughout the camp from every angle, some reluctant, others a little too excited. "She knows too much t' be out on her own. Once you find her, bring her back t' me. I'm sure she misses her dear ol' dad."
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"Oh my Goddd, this' so boring!"
"C'mon Dante, we're almost done! We've got one more stack to do, and then we're home free."
"One more stack- there's always one more goddamn stack."
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Know My Name - a RDR2 Story
FanfictionAt the young age of merely 13, Kambria was taken by a ruthless gang who go by "the O'Driscolls" while being robbed from her home in Saint Denis. She knew nothing about the West, didn't even know where BlackWater was, nor did she know who Colm O'Dris...
