(Red Dead Redemption 2 Story)
'𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 - 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.'
-
From the author that brought you 'Playing Dangerous'
You are the daughter of one of the most brutal, sought after 'Guns for Hire'...
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Time itself felt void in your current predicament - you felt like you were dangling off a cliff, hanging on by a single branch; scared to think what might come to you considering these lawmen were convinced you'd murdered your father.
A few hours since your capture, you were escorted from the tiny interrogation room and out onto a set of iron stairs, rusted and railings cold to the touch. The freshness of cool air hit your skin, and your (eye colour) eyes were finally able to gaze upon your surroundings.
Buildings, and plenty of them. Smoking chimney stacks, the clanging of metal works and hollering voices from miles away. You'd only heard of this place before, Saint Denis - having never set foot in this city before, it really seemed to be levelling with the description you'd heard. It was dull, devoid of any real colour - murky browns, dulled greys and off-whites. It seemed a fitting setting to be incarcerated, such a miserable city filled with workers breaking their backs for cents and criminals operating underground factions.
Your hands securely bound by metal cuffs, the lawman behind you walked you down and to the main level of the police station. The same tiles covered the floor, in a similar dulled and dirtied fashion. It's ceilings were high, and rather fancy - artful coving topped the walls and there was a large ornate dome with glass fittings towards the reception end of the facility.
However you weren't allowed to stare about the place for too long, before you found yourself thrown into one of the large cells in the centre of the long, rectangular room.
"You can stay in here 'til we figure out what to do with ya." The police officer mumbled, practically shoving you inside the metal barred cell and slamming the door shut heftily after you.
It seemed the only thing to do was wait and try to get some clarity on the situation. Taking a seat on the small, hard wooden bench provided in the cell - your ears listened to the heavy clunking of the keys securing the lock. It almost signalled a countdown in your head, a countdown to try and figure out how you could get out of here... or at least save your skin.
Head falling into your hands, you groaned to yourself miserably. With all this time alone, you'd already come to think of how you had heard nothing of Micah since being detained.
Did he escape?
Your jaw clenched as another thought sprang to mind, one that made your gut tighten irritably. Micah wasn't exactly a saint... you wondered whether he had set you up to this. You couldn't identify a reason why he would do, except from the mere reason he just seemed an evil bastard inside and out.
It didn't seem totally illogical, that's for sure.
