(Red Dead Redemption 2 Story)
'𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 - 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.'
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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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The low glint of the afternoon sun scintillating through the artsy dome just above the top of your cell soon traversed into a night time gloom - the murky glow of the poor office lamps being your only source of light besides the milky shine of the moon.
You'd easily been detained here for 8 hours now, and that time was long enough for your mind to go meandering through all the possible worries that someone might not be coming to your rescue. Surely they would know you were gone? But then you followed your own thoughts up - the gang hadn't been rushing to help that one feller .... Sean? He'd been captured by bounty hunters and they were taking their time getting him back.
Besides, and possibly the worst thought was - no one knew how severe your sentencing was. You were absolutely terrified of being put to death for a crime you didn't commit. The more you sat alone in a cell and lingered on it, it seemed all too fitting that Micah possibly set you up.
It seemed this grand old prison and its glamorous details were some kind of strange otherworldly place where time did not run in the usual construct. All you knew was that the sun had gone down, and suddenly most of the officers were gone - bar one lawman sat at the desk by the reception area, feet on the desk reading some apt crime novel.
Amidst the woes tiding in your head, you'd been carefully thinking about a possible escape. It seemed that if none of the boys were coming to get you, you'd have to get yourself out - there was no need to be the damsel.
Silently, you'd watched the tired guard's motions over the past hour or so, the pacing about he did sometimes, inspecting posters before returning back to his seat - all whilst the steady jingle of the keys attached to his belt rang like clanging bells in your ears. Those keys were your ticket out of here... and with an item of importance planted firmly in front of you, your mind quickly plotted the plan on how to get the keys fairly quickly.
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Another hour ticked on lazily, like a heat exhausted shire horse drawing a cart.
Once again, the lawman got up from the desk with a noisy yawn and paced down your way - the languid and slow clunking of his shoes on the tiles growing louder as he approached your exposed cell.
"Mister," you managed to croak, which further added effect to the poor little girl you were trying to portray. "What's gonna happen to me?" Part of it wasn't an act, considering how scared you were for your life.
Folding his arms across his chest, the man furrowed his brow, his nose wrinkling slightly and his mouth beneath that thin brown moustache pressed into a tight line.
"They've made arrangements for you to be taken to Sisika Penitentiary in the morning." He said plainly, and the reactions of horror on your face were genuine, "from there, they'll decide what to do with ya." He scorned, by the look on his face he was belittling you.
