Bad Blood // Micah Bell (Red Dead Redemption 2 Story)

The Final Chapter: Part Two - Bad Blood The End

Wind howls as the evening draws to a close. Gunshots fired in the cold air from the distance as Natasha sunk her nails into the undergrowth of the earth, pulling her up the embankments which she believed lead to him.

Her eyes were glowing, something fierce. Her breathing was ragged and anxious with every climb and step she took. Still, she could feel the heart strings that kept her alive slowly snapping away as the events unfolded in her mind, over and over.

Pushing herself up from the grass covered ground, she looked around, distorted slightly as her mind was in a whirlwind of its own.

Where is he? She bitterly thought to herself, feeling utter repulsion towards the man she was soon going to call 'husband'.

She knew she had to move quick - never too sure where or how close the Pinkerton's were form where the shooting started. Natasha sincerely wished that Arthur and John made it out alive. She wishes one of them would kill the traitors.

She stood overlooking the vast grounds of Roanoke Ridge, watching mist which she could easily mix up with smoke, wafted in the thick air. She scanned the area, her eyes although teary and full of venom and fire, was able to spot any living thing from where she stood. She held her hand on the holster of her gun at all times just to make sure nobody was to sneak up on her.

The thick stone slabs that made up the mountains and hills scraped against her skin as her shirt riled up as she slid down onto a lower part of the mountain, blood specs seeping through her already beaten and damaged skin but she didn't take no notice. She had bigger things to worry about than a petty graze on the side of her waist.

Stepping onto a small grassy area, she couches down and touches the ground upon seeing some of the strands of grass were squished - recently too. Her fingers picked at the broken stems of grass, taking them in her fingers before standing up straight again as she heard a small shuffling noise behind her.

Closing her eyes, she sniffed the air and she swore she could smell the cigarette smoke and whisky radiating from behind her, her stomach twisting in every direction as she sensed him.

Licking at her cold and chapped lips, ignoring the faint breaking of skin that fell from her once succulent lips, she looked to the right as she saw a shadow. The man casting it, however, was not in eyeline but she knew he was there.

"Micah." She almost threw up his name once she spoke it, her voice slightly trembling.

He didn't respond but she could almost picture the broke cogs turning in his sick and twisted mind as he tried to find the words to say. In the end, he didn't say anything.

He stared at her back, her shoulder blades almost poking out of her black shirt that overtime had become too big for her from the lack of resources being carried into camp. His seeping blue eyes glanced down towards her fingers, scarred, crooked and twitching in anger. Her legs were also bent inwards and it was only until now he realised how frail she was. Now he noticed, on the edge of a large mountain with the law chasing after them, only now he really saw the damage the gang had caused. She looked hungry but not for food like most people would have expected, she looked hungry from many other things. Would it be glory? Would it be revenge or would it be love? Sweet love that he couldn't give her.

Instead, he stared at his hands that hung by his sides, his guns were holstered but he had a feeling they may not be for much longer.

Masqueraded by the love he had for her, he felt fear for the first time. He didn't know what was happening in the mind of the woman ahead of him. He would have placed his best bets that she was repulsed by the sight of him and wanted him nothing more than dead at that moment in time and quite frankly, he wouldn't blame her.