Forged in Brotherhood | Arthur x John

Chapter 2: H. Overlook Part 2

Note:

Apologies for the shorter chapter! This one was done quickly, but I promise the next one will be longer. Thanks for your patience! xx

Chapter 2: H. Overlook Part 2

Blood. Blood. Blood.

It's all he sees, feels, smells. The rain pours down on him, soaking through his clothes and onto the person beneath him. Onlookers gather, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of watching two men tear each other apart—waiting to see who loses, who dies first. His hand is clamped tight around the man's throat, squeezing, while his other fist slams into the man's face over and over. His knuckles are raw, split, but he doesn't stop. The dim street lanterns flicker, casting harsh shadows over the scene, highlighting the agony twisting across the man's bloodied face. The blood runs in rivulets from his nose, mixing with the rain.

It began when he came back from Jimmy Brooks. He had returned the horse he'd borrowed, the brief moment of decency behind him. After that, he headed straight for the saloon, remembering Bill, Javier, and Charles were supposed to be there, drinking away the dust of the day.

When he walked into the saloon, the warm air and smell of whiskey hit him. Arthur spotted Javier and Charles at the bar, two girls standing between them, laughing together. Arthur shook his head slightly and made his way over.

Javier, leaning sideways on his arm, was the first to notice him. "Oh, Arthur," he called, opening his arm in welcome. As Arthur got closer, Javier stepped towards him. "Arthur, come here, come here." One of the girls had already turned around, while Charles glanced at Arthur, his hand resting on another girl's lower back, who also turned to look.

"Come over here, I want you to meet our friends," Javier added.

The redhead next to Javier was dressed rather inappropriately, but Arthur kept his gaze on her face, avoiding looking any lower. "Pleased to meet you," he murmured.

The other girl then turned around fully. She had dark hair, braided and resting on her right shoulder. At least she was dressed more appropriately, but Arthur didn't care much about what women wore—it wasn't his business. Still, a hint of concern flickered in the back of his mind, especially for the red-haired woman. Men ain't nice, and dressed like that... well, it ain't good, unless she was a prostitute. And even then, that didn't sit right with him.

The red-haired girl was the first to speak, her voice teasing. "Well, ain't you just the tough as teak mountain man." Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly at her, feeling a flicker of annoyance. Before he could say anything, the other girl chimed in, "Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia. Anyone can tell this one's a pussycat."

Anastasia laughed softly at the remark, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Arthur couldn't quite tell if it was meant to insult him or if it was just playful banter, but either way, it made his blood run a little hotter.

Javier, of course, ran along with their nonsense. "Exactly, yes, he's a pussy... cat. Ain't that so, Arthur?"

"Whatever you say." Arthur muttered, stepping back a bit, this time letting his eyes shamelessly roam over Anastasia's body. Her white shirt was barely hanging on, practically fighting to stay over her chest. It was a thin, shoulderless top that left her collarbone and upper body exposed, covering just her stomach and almost her chest. Around her neck hung a necklace with a green, round pendant. She wore a long, ankle-length black skirt with a floral pattern.

"How much you cost, anyway?" he asked, his voice low, cold.

Anastasia frowned, her expression hardening. "Well, ain't that a nice way to talk to a lady?"