"Red for Dead" An RDR Universe Short Story (Male Character)

Humble Begininnings

Flashback 3 years ago:

The sun was low on the horizon, real low. It was barley bright outside, and yet here I was, standing outside a saloon surrounded by men 20 years older than me. Smoke, dust, and gunpowder filled the room. Just the way I was used to, just the way I lived. I was a regular at this point, no shame in it. I walked into that god forsaken saloon and was instantly greeted by the bartender. Uncle we called him, stocky fella, average height, unreal "true" stories. He    was always around when there was booze, and nowhere to be found when there was actual work to do. Nonetheless, I could always count on him for a good pour. Shame he had terminal lumbago though. I really did wonder who his replacement would be. 

"Unc." I said nodding my head walking in

"Ryan! My favorite boy!" He yelled out, already half drunk, pouring his drink everywhere. He'd be passed out in the outhouse by midnight. 

I walked in and took a seat where I usually did, at the end of the bar. A little darker, quieter, harder to get noticed, that means less trouble for me, and less fighting to be done, which was always inevitable. Uncle immediately slid down a glass of whiskey. 

"I need to stop drinking this shit." I said to myself as I downed that glass. I was lying. 

And so, I sat at that bar for the next couple minutes, head down, black cowboy hat draped a bit over my eyes, black jacket, pants. A humble outfit for a night like this. Conveiniently, at this time, is also where my best friend John decided to make a grand appearance. it wasn't hard to see him, hell, he was the only black man in this bar. Took a seat next to me at the back end. We were favorites of Uncle's. Hell, he thought that since we were a bit younger, we'd believe his bullshit stories. "The one shot kid" wtf does that even mean? I pondered to myself as more glasses of whiskey were thrown our way. Glass up, glass down, glass up, glass down, and so it went for the rest of that night at least. It had to have been pretty late when I look over at John and........ where is he? 

"Shhit." I said standing up and only then realizing the inefficiency of my legs. My vision darkened, and everything seemed so fuckin funny all of a sudden. I stumbled up the stairs of the saloon screaming out "Johhhnn!" much to the dismay of everyone at the bar. I dragged my ass up the stairs, into a room where I could have SWORE I heard John's voice and.... oh... fuck.... they are fucking, red alert. They are fucking.

I've never flung out of a room so fast, flying into the wall across and almost putting a dent in said wall before I bursted out laughing. That, was NOT John ladies and gentlemen. Took some time, some interrogation, and the almost massacaring of some poor white man before I heard the familiar yell of John followed by bottles breaking. It was coming from outside. I ran outside and.... he was getting jumped. My hand twitched on my knife, yelling at the men to let the kid go, apparently, guy was caught trying to pickpocket some old man who happened to be a racist himself. Uncle came outside, and two men who I had talked to before came out to help. Needless to say, things went South fast, knives went flying, shots started ringing, and I had nothing to do with it. I grabbed John and we went the complete opposite of the chaos, drunk, laughing, and having no idea as to where we were. Flew through fields, farms, and dirt roads until we heard silence. It was almost morning then, we backtracked our way back to our houses where we said goodbye. Humble neighborhood, all kind folk. The boys and girls were all real nice. One of these girls in particular, Riley, was real pretty. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, short, slim, and had the prettiest smile ever. 

"I think imma ask her out soon, Riley's been my best friend for forever" I said to John as we stumbled our ways back to our houses, talking about girls, games, and what the next set of fun is gonna be.

Let me explain, Riley is girl i've grown up with since I was born in this town. Around my age, we had a blast in our childhood as friends, but i've never really noticed her like that till now. I mean, she had always been pretty, but she was starting to look seriously beautiful. Playful jokes began to prompt flustered faces and physical touch led to blushes. 

I was almost obsessed with her, she's gorgeous, she knows me, I know her.

"You should try man, she's real pretty." John said, prompting a blush in my cheeks as her face came flooding back to me. I smiled like an idiot the whole way home, though it could have been the whiskey. 

 This would be the last day that everything was normal, just regular, teenage fun. 

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Note: "Even on the road, I find myself drifting back in time to this moment, etched deeply in my memory. It was a time of stupidity, of wide-eyed wonder, and of endless possibilities. The air was thick with the scent of sagebrush and the distant echo of cattle lowing in the fields. I was just a young boy then, barely 15, with dreams as vast as the dimmed  sky above me. It was a time when every day held the promise of adventure, and the world seemed to stretch out before me like an untamed frontier waiting to be explored. And in that fleeting moment, as the gentle breeze whispered through the tall grasses, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be transported back to that simpler time, where the echoes of the past still lingered, waiting to be rediscovered." -Ryan, age 18