' ~𝑅𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐶𝑎𝑖𝑛'✓ [RDR2 OC]

The First Shall Be Last

"Oh shit!" Cain groaned and hit the butt of the gun to the bridge of his nose as the bottle practically mocked him in its unscaved glassy glory.
"Just breath." He told himself. He's an excellent aim. He was, at least.
The notch at the end of the gun of which he'd forgotten the proper name of, aligned with the body of the bottle once again.
"C'mere you fucker.." He whispered, fabricating a criminals face, and a British accent, for good measure. That little weasel that ran around town looking for his friend. God he pissed him off.
Arthur had invited him to rescue Seán after they'd gotten word of his where-abouts. Captured by O'Driscolls. So, no surprise. Seán always tended to be the damsel in distress.

He wrinkled his nose and brought his thoughts back to the present. His hand was shaking again. He grumbled, knowing that this target practice was futile, and there was more of a chance the adrenaline from the fight would fuel his combat skills. Sparring with a drunk Javier was hardly worth it, and being an injured idiot barely made it better. He was about to yell another curse when a boy, Jack, was his name, wandering into his view.
His gaze softened, and he smiled despite himself.
"Hey, kid."
Jack grinned slyly, like a child who was about to reveal how it painted an entire wall with flour and toothpaste.
"I got a dog!" He said enthused. Cain's posture became less rigid. He tilted his head. "Really?" He laughed. "Whatcha calling it then?"
Jack practically beamed with mischievous intent.
"Cain."
"Yup?"
"No, Cain's the dog's name!"
"Don't be silly," He walked over and placed the gun on a log. "That's my name!" He said in fake distress. Jack giggled. "I know! Dutch said it was a good name because he ran away because he probably did something really bad,"
Cain's smile faltered, but he picked it back up. "Raising cain, is that dog?"
Jack nodded, then frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"To raise cain, son, is to be a trouble maker."
"Are you a trouble maker, Mister Mac Coggy?"
"Mac Cogaidh, Co-gee. And no, I'm a straight lined man living an honest life. Hanging out with your crazy people is just a break from the family." He said with enough obvious sarcasm for little Jack to pick up on.
"Will you change your name now, Mister Mac Cogaidh?"
"Oh, why would I do that?"
"Becuase, if I call the dog, well, you might come running instead."
Cain laughed. "No, Jack. I quite like the name I picked for myself."
Jack raised both eyebrows.
"Picked? I didn't get to pick mine. My Mama said she picked mine cuzza' my uncle Jack!"
Cain hummed and then sat on the log.
"Well, Dutch is kind of right." He smiled.
"I did run from something. And I ain't too good a kid. So I called myself Cain. Have you ever read that big book, the Bible?"
"Naw." He kicked dirt up. "But the Reverend does! He does it all the time."
"Yeah, neither have I. Has he ever told you about the story of Cain?"
Jack thought for a moment, his eyes flicking from the bottle to Cain and then to the grass.
"No."
"Well, he had a brother named Abel, and they fought a lot."
Jack giggled and sat on a log, exhilarated for a story time. Cain doubted his father could even read, let alone read to his son.
"You see, Cain and Abel were the first born children of Adam and Eve. Cain was a farmer, Abel a shepard. They each made sacrifices to God, Cain gave food, clothes and warmth, and Abel gave God lambs, wool and wine. One day, Cain grew sick and tired of Abel being favoured over him because of his offerings, and well. He hurt him really badly, with a stone."
Jack nodded in understanding.
"It was the first time anyone had ever hurt someone that badly in all of human history. So God punished him by destroying his house, and in a similar way, he was hit on the head as well, hurting him just as bad."
Jack's eyes widened.
"So how are you still alive?"
Cain smiled and shook his head.
"No, well, Cain lied about hurting Abel, and God gave Cain a mark, ensuring that he wouldn't get too hurt before he was an old man, so he didn't have to die, and he was still allowed to raise a family and marry."
Jack raised his eyebrows again, Cain suspected he just couldn't raise one at a time.
"You were in the bible?"
"No, that's just a story that teaches you about sincerity, living an honest life."
Jack still didn't feel satisfactory with his answers.
"But your house fell down."
Cain hesitated, then nodded.
"And you had a Mommy and a Baby."
Cain nodded once again.
"And you survived. And you have marks." Jack pointed at Cain's palm, and he only really acknowledged the scar now. It branched through his fingers just down to the joint of his hand and his wrist.
"I. . . Guess I do."
Jack frowned. "Did you have a brother?"
He hesitated for too long, and Jack jumped up, whispering.
"Did you hurt your brother real bad too? Like Cain from the Bible?"
Cain's mouth lined. "I'm not too religious now. But I guess I- kid I'm not saying I can't trust you, but I think that conversation is best left to the grown-ups."
Jack pouted, then picked up a stick.
"Okay, but tell me more stories once you're back, please?"
Cain laughed. "Sure thing, kid. Whatever you want."
Beth smiled and pranced off, finding a stick to draw in the dirt with.
Cain paled and blinked a few times as Jack ran up to his mother, presenting her the perfect sword for a knight in conquest.
He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, regaining touch with reality.
No fire, no flames, no death.
He focused on the cries of birds, the rustling of grass, and the footsteps of an approaching nuisance. He cracked open an eye and then blinked a couple of times, clearing the fog from his mind and adjusting his eyesight.
"You hit me." Javier said, leaning against the body of a tree.
Cain hummed and picked up his gun again, taking aim at the bottle.
"I did, find somewhere else to shed the tears." He released his breath, and even Javier seemed to anticipate the shot.
He slowly pulled the trigger, and as the gun was recoiling, the bottle shattered in all directions.
"Hell yeah!" He laughed and turned to Javier, who still seemed as pissy as ever.
"You just shot a bottle."
"Well, yeah, but -"
"Everyone can shoot a bottle. Apart from Seán. He was always shit at that."
Cain frowned, the exhilaration slowly being drained from him.
"Why do you insist on annoying me in this manner so much? You insulted me, didn't stop, and I punched you. Big deal. You punch people all the time."
Javier pointed at him. "We insult each other at the camp-sure. But we don't throw fists unless someone's threatening to drop you first." He spat.
Cain acknowledged Javier's burst lip.
"How's the nose?" He walked over to the rock, replacing it with another bottle.
Javier's anger fell from his face.
"Fine" His hands seperating from his sides for a moment, dispering the aggravation. If theres one thing Javier might hold higher than loyalty, it was appearance. "It's healing, pretty okay. Good enough to go after Seán. Wherever the hell he is."
He said quietly, moving with suspicious steps as Cain retook his footing, about 20 yards from the bottle.
He breathed and aimed once more. After a short silence, he felt he had to clarify his sudden excitement of shooting his target.
"It's not about hitting the bottle, Javier. It's about not getting sidetracked. It's about keeping things...steady." His hand steadied, almost statue like.
He noted how the gun felt different on either hand. The scar had affected his nerves on his palm, of course it had.
The bottle exploded again as the shot rang out.
This time, Javier did pull a small expression of impression, and Cain reflected it, pushing his hair out of the way of his face. He still hadn't bothered to cut it.

They road for around 30 minutes, then Cain's mind turned to fog, as he imagined all the ways he could possibly die on this mission.
Javier, Trelawny, and Arthur Road ahead of him.
Their conversation was muffled as he gazed it between them, into the sandy, dry environment ahead. It was comforting not being able to see their destination, a feeling that they could keep riding and riding until they burned up in the sun.
He realised he was experiencing fear, and he shook it from his head, and with it the fog.
That gunshot again. Jesus, who is shooting out here? The sound of the shell dropping mirrored the same moment his heart dropped. It was the same as before. He took a deep breath, and he realised Arthur was talking to him.
"Huh?" He squinted.
"I said, how's your wound healing? It's been 7 days or so."
Cain thought, then shrugged.
"Fine. Hurts like a bitch in the morning, but the stitches I could take out. Left a nice scar."
Arthur nodded and smiled, glad to see Cain so enthused about his horrid gash.
He'd have to talk to Arthur more.
They reached the Valley by midday, and Trelawny waved them off.
"Leave it to me, boys. I'll create a distraction. You get Sean back to camp alive, alright?"
Cain nodded and said nothing, and then Arthur indicated to Charles, on the other side of the valley. Hopefully he wouldn't have to hurt anyone.

The man with a bewildered look and an even more expressful moustache tried to use the butt of the gun to slam into his temple. He batted it away and elbowed the mans nose, then sent a palm slap into his chin, knocking him down. He turned, sending his knuckles into a man's jaw. He felt the unsavoury feeling of teeth coming loose. Blood sprayed from the man's mouth as he screamed in anguish, too busy cursing out his diet choices to continue fighting.
"Get that ginger bastard and get us out of here!"
He yelled as he got on his horse, kicking another man away. A lot of these guys were really vying to get at Seán.
The valley closed off, and so did his mind. He felt the gunshots grow foggy, and just like before,
The gunshot. That crisp sound of a cartridge falling from the barrel and that lock-and-load that aired the ghosting audio.
He trusted his horse to deliver him and slowed, trying to clear the shadows that filled his mind, becoming sticky and pulling chaos towards the peace in his headspace, that tower made of carefully proportioned emotions and manic leaning and ready to topple.

A shout from Arthur pulled him back. He grimaced seeing the man covered in blood and small peices of what he hoped wasn't flesh. The air smelled of gunpowder, and he allowed himself a moment of greatfullness that he could smell at all.
"Will you stop meditating and ride on. God."
Cain shrugged and didn't take it to Heart. Arthur had just killed a bunch of men and was tattered in their blood and probably some of their brains.
Was not a good look for him.
He caught up, and Javier smiled at him, and impulsively, he found himself smiling back. He grimaced mentally at his gesture.
Javier looked down at Cain's knuckles and his unscaved blades and unused guns.
"You really like to get up close and personal, huh?"
Cain blinked at him, then realised it was a genuine question.
"Yeah, I guess." He found himself sounding more surprised. "I just have it in me for punching law-abiding people. That and I didn't want to shoot myself accidently." He mumbled and rubbed his stinging knuckles.
Javier raised an eyebrow.
"How'd you know Seán?"
The road cleared up, and so did Cain's mind, and he lined his mouth.
"Stole his families best cow."
Javier smiled and gave him a weird look, then blinked.
"You're serious?"
"As I'll ever."
"You stole a cow?"
"The best."
"But-wha-you stole a cow."
"So you said."
Javier faltered. "And he hates you, why?"
"Weren't you listening? It was the best cow, Javier."
Javier opened his mouth to say something, then just furrowed his brows at Cain and rode on.
He heard Javier mumbled thoughtfully,
"Cows.."