' ~𝑅𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐶𝑎𝑖𝑛'✓ [RDR2 OC]

Wounded Animal

He looked down at the barrel of the gun. A man with waxy skin, deep set eyes, and lips that made his mouth look like a slit carved from a clay base smiled back at him.
He only managed a half smirk, his non chalance swept away as fast as a squirrel in a mudslide, or any small creature. His eyes darted to the neat, shiny "respect me I'm special" badge on display on the man's coat. The agent took that as a queue to start a monologue. Dutch told them that these people were weak, mentally. Given the opportunity, they'd boast of their victory. That was their blind spot. What unnerved him is that Dutch also had the habit of doing exactly that. Though no one ever pointed it out.

"Mister Mac Cuinnigan, you've not been a very good boy as of late. Much trouble has befallen you, as it seems."
His partner chuckled. He chuckled because a laugh would be a response to something funny. This was just plain pettiness due to catching him.

"I can't say you've done too much to deserve being slung in the gallows, but the folks you've been running with, now those, we'd like to see swinging."

Cain raised his hands and gave them a very weak, defeated smile, one that hinted he didn't quite want to be seized by lead just yet. He noticed one of the agents had a shotgun on his horse.

"Agent Milton. This is my partner, Agent Ross. Now, we tracked two horses here. Witnesses tend to notice when a man such as yourself and a man such as your companion stroll alongside each other with no distaste. Now, he doesn't seem to be here, so I say we strike ourselves a deal, one of.... convenience."

Cain remained silent as Milton continued. The blind spot was certainly open, Ross ate this dramatic scene up like he had been craving to see someone shot down today. Most of those government workers had that same kind of drive.

"You tip us off every so often, and we get you settled with some land. Maybe neighbouring a nice ranch. Plenty of maidens and a comfortable home. That's what you lost, after all. No use riding with a gang that's only running itself into the ground. You're lucky, Agent Ross and I, why we see potential in you. Young, strong, white man such as yourself. You could bounce back from this like nothing. But those savages, yes, it's just over for them."

Agent Milton lowered his weapon, and Cain frowned thoughtfully at the proposal.  The agent gave a short laugh.

"I mean, it's a decision between blind loyalty or intelligent independence. Now you have two choices, Luan Mac Cuinnigan or Cain Mac Cogaidh."

Before Cain could, Charles saw the blind spot. The sound of a flying arrow peirced the air, and Agent Ross' hat flew off, and an arrow was dug into the bark of a tree
The Agent let out a shout and ran behind his horse. Milton cursed and turned from Cain. Cain unholstered his gun and pointed it at the Agent, who cursed again, pointing his gun frantically in the bush.

"Shit. Shit. Ross, any movement?!"

Milton called, his gun now turned to Cain. Seems he would trust Ross more to scout than to guard their already captured subject. Ross unholstered his rifle. It was probably for taking down horses or wagons. But this was the government. And they knew who Charles was.

Ross was sweating. His rifle was probably unsteady in his clamy hands.
Milton's pistol was aligned with Cain's forhead. No, this wasn't how he died. This was not the shotgun that echoed in his ear. There was no empty slug shell to fall and clink up against the rocky shore. If there was one thing he'd learned from any of the gang members through out their various expoditions in search of equity, was that when threatening a fellow with a fire arm, never be in a reaching distance. Luckily, Milton's mind was elsewhere.