Dark Storms (Crankgameplays x Reader)

Chapter 3: Cellmates

     Two sets of boots walked along the wooden floors of the small jailhouse in Armadillo, a male with brown hair and blue eyes had his wrists tied up in the Marshall's grip. The Marshall pushed the man into the small cell where another man sat on the metal beds of the small cell with his head in his hands. The strong lawman released the rope and pulled keys from his front pocket of his jeans. He locked the door behind the blue eyed man, he turned to the lawman then back to the man sitting on the bed. 

     The new face lifted his head to the brown haired man in front of him letting his hands swing on his knees. 

     "What's yer name kid?" He asked the young man.

     "Jack... yours?" Jack replied walking a little closer to the man.

     "John..." John replied, "what brought ye here?"

     "Gang business that's all really," Jack spoke as he leaned his back against the metal cell.

     "I am a thief from the town Valentine, ye see my family is really poor and we can barely make it through a day, my wife gave up all 5 of our kids about 23 years ago just because we thought they would have a better life," John said lowering his head at the thought of his own children.

     "I'm sorry about that, I really am. I lived in an orphanage all my life until I escaped with a few friends. Only half of us made it out while others didn't. I have been thievin' since I was around 17 maybe? I can't remember... after so long memories start to get jumbled and you just can't remember the last time you tasted the sweat taste of freedom. I have been called Jack so much I can't even remember my true christian name, the one I was given from my parents."

     "That sounds rough... whatever reason they left ye at that orphanage they surely had some sort of reason. But at least you made it this far whether yer a outlaw or not, yer alive and well that is all that truly matters in this savage land we call America." John patted Jack's shoulder lightly, he finally could notice the mans actual facial features. He had blue eyes and brown hair like Jack's. He was snapped from his thoughts when the older man spoke up again. "In all this mess there is light even when you lose everythin', a old buddy of mine from back in Valentine lost everything. His wife, two sons and daughter from the murder of Manzanita Post. His name is Mark Nestor, brave man. When we met about 4 years back he told me that the memory of that night wouldn't go away. He wanted it to go away though no matter what ye would see a bright smile on that mans face." Jack's eyes widened at the name 'Mark Nestor' he realized the man in front of him was talking about his good friend Ethan's father, who else would he be referring to really? Ethan wasn't dead but this man and his own father thought he was. "One night he decided to pack his things up and leave for London, I haven't heard from him since then. I hope everything is going well for him." At first Jack didn't reply but after a few seconds of thinking he decided to say it.

     "Ethan isn't dead..." Jack whispered looking to his hands that were now in his lap.

     "Ethan?"

     "Mark Nestor's son... he is alive, he is in my gang as the the top gun." John's eyes widened slightly as he looked to Jack.

     "I thought there were no survivors? Yes, I heard people say he was but Mark surely thinks he is dead," John exclaimed slightly in shock of his new discovery.

     "Well he is alive if I had a way to send a letter to his father believe me I would," Jack lifted his head and looked to John. "So what do you think they will do with me?"

     "Get hung like any other person."

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     The sound of clinging keys caught them off guard making the two glance up at the cell door to see a tall figure standing in front of them. It was the Marshall.

     "Get up," the rough voice pointed to John. The older man didn't resist the lawman, he walked towards the man in the cell doorway and held out his wrists for him to rope together. Marshall slipped the rope from the table and tied his hands together. With one last glance from John to Jack, he left the building without another word. Jack had no idea what was going on and to be honest he was kind of scared of what they will do to his newly found friend. His thoughts were running wild, every beat of his heart was a new thought, every second. It was like clock work for hours beyond end. He finally had enough of all these thoughts, his head snapped up to see one of the deputy's walking towards the cell, he leaned his back against the bars sighing,. It sounded like a more of a tired sigh or just one that basically said 'I can't wait for this day to be over with'. Jack glanced to the window in his cell that had bars over it to block a way of escape. The sun was now setting leaving a bright orange hue in the sky, it has been 6 hours now and he still hasn't come back, Jack needed answers and he needed them now. The Irish man turned his head to the deputy once more.

     "Excuse me deputy?" Jack asked the man in front of his cell. The brown haired lawman cough on his own spit at the sudden noise coming from Jack. He spit a little to the side then turned his head back around 180 degrees to Jack. 

     "What?" The man turned his head to the outlaw sitting in the back of the cell on the small metal bed.

     "Where did that guy go?"

     "John McLoughlin? Oh he was hung about 5 hours ago."