RDR canon kickoff, or: John's not dead, honest

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

[OOM: "Mister Marston. It's been a while."]

Those close to the door right about now might hear a string of profanities getting louder and louder, until...

The door flies open, revealing John Marston clad in clothing considerably different from what he wore the last time he was in Milliways. A Colt Peacemaker sits in his waist holster, and a Winchester repeater is slung over his back.

"...filthy no-good son of a..." John stops short when he bangs into a table. He looks around, and it finally dawns on him where he is. He looks behind him. The door's gone.

"Aw, come on!"

Comments

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Dogmeat was sleeping peacefully under the table, but recognizes the sound of frustration; he looks up with a surprised whurf. The sound catches his human's attention, and she looks towards the door. "Is something wrong?" Ellen says, and then: "Mr. .... Marson, right? It's been a while."

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

"Yes, Miss Park, something is wrong," John snaps. "My family needs me and bein' pulling into this goddamn bar ain't -" He stops himself short, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath.

"My apologies, Miss Park. I did not mean to take my frustrations out on you."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"That's all right, I've heard worse," Ellen says. "What happened? Or shouldn't I ask?"

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John grits his teeth. "Some enterprising federal agent," he says in the same tone someone else would use to say massive asshole, "kidnapped my family and is holding them hostage until I do their dirty work."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen's been reminded of Father Elijah recently, and of what he did in his attempts to get his claws on the Sierra Madre. At the mention of the kidnapping her expression goes flat. "What an absolutely lovely individual he must be," she says. "I'm guessing tracking them down and rescuing them from under his nose isn't an option, considering the situation."

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John shakes his head as he takes the seat across from her. "He won't tell me where they are. Just that they're being 'well-looked after'. Even if I tried tracking them, I've got agents following me all over town."

He rubs at his forehead and scowls. "I'm to take a train out west tomorrow, under penalty of death, to kill or capture one of my former comrades. And yesterday I was taking my cattle out for grazing and patching up the silo's roof." He throws up his hands. "I'm amazed at how fast that son-of-a-whore agent upended it all."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"That's awful," says Ellen, grimacing. "I'm sorry. That's just- people like that don't deserve to hold a title or a gun, let alone authority over anybody's lives. Is there at least anybody who might be able to look after your place while you're gone?"

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John snorts. "Got a man by the name of Uncle at the ranch. He might look after the place, but Gabriel might sound his trumpet in the next few minutes. Man's lazier than a lizard on a hot day."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Oh dear." Ellen drags a hand over her face. "That's... oh dear. Well... what's your next move, anyway?"

[waco_jim]

Jim is sitting on a stool drinking a cup of coffee. He's recovering rather nicely, all things considered. He glances up at the arrival with a look of concern and mild curiosity.

"Somethin' the matter, mister?"

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

"Goddamn right something's the matter," John snaps. "My family's been taken hostage and this goddamn bar pullin' me in when I'm needed back in my world ain't helping."

[waco_jim]

Five seconds of dead silence.

"...Oh. I'm...sorry, I...didn't know. And you're probably stuck here, too..."

Jim's a little speechless right now.

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John sighs. "Yeah." He runs his hands over his face. "My apologies. I didn't mean to snap at you, friend."

[waco_jim]

"'s'alright," he says. "You've got an awful lot going wrong for you right now.

"If you're not going anywhere for a while, maybe I can buy you a drink. Hell, I'd like to help somehow."

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John shakes his head. "I appreciate the thought, mister, but I don't drink if my rifle is loaded. Force of habit."

He pauses, then extends a hand. "Don't believe I introduced myself. John Marston."

[waco_jim]

"Maybe some other time, then."

He shakes John's hand. "Jim. If I ever had a last name, I seem to have forgotten it."

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

"Pleasure to meet you, Jim. You from somewhere out in New Austin, or have I made the mistake of mixing my geography with another world's?"

[ikissdhimbck]

"...Mister Marston?!"


Kate's up from her seat in a flash. Her wide eyes scan the artillery covering his body; it's a sure shock from the rancher she remembers meeting not so long ago.

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

Never let it be said that John is a fair-weather gentleman - as he catches sight of Kate, he tips his hat. "Miss Barlow. My apologies for startling you. There's been a...there's been a complication in my world."

'Complication' doesn't even begin to describe it.

[ikissdhimbck]

She quickly and politely dismisses the apology. She's seen and heard all manner of things in Milliways, so a little hooting and cussing ain't no big thing.

She's approaching him, swift and concerned.

"Are you well?" she asks, making sure he isn't scraped up or bleeding. "What happened, if you don't mind me askin'?"

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John clenches his fists and grits his teeth. "Some son-of-a-whore federal agent kidnapped my family and is holding them hostage until I do his dirty work."

[ikissdhimbck]

"A federal — kidnapped?"

Kate stumbles over her words in shock.

"Why would he do such a thing?"

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John rubs at his eyes. Now or never. "It's...it's a long story, Miss Barlow." He takes a seat.

"You remember how I told you how I'd been around the outlaw type some when we first met?"

[ikissdhimbck]

The concern in her expression gives slightly, wariness lighting her eyes.

She glances around for a waitrat. She can feel a story brewing, and guesses at them needing a drink or two to get through it.

Once the order is placed for a bottle of good whiskey, she takes the seat opposite him.

"Yes, I recall."

[bornuntotrouble.livejournal.com]

John waves the waitrat off - experience has taught him that alcohol and loaded weapons are a bad combination.

"Well. That's because I was the outlaw type. Once. A long time ago."

He picks up a matchbox and fiddles with it - anything to get his mind off his current situation. "I was part of a gang. We robbed trains. We robbed banks. We robbed people. We kidnapped people. We killed people."

He bows his head. "It's...not something I'm proud of."