· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ Silence—An everlasting, deafening emptiness. Mountains of slow death.

He was gone. Nothing could change that. He died so close to the way he wanted... That rat. Arthur may have died peacefully, but you acknowledged that if Micah had never done that, Arthur would have died facing the rising sun. You knew Micah shot him in the head. Stupid action that was. Redemption always came when needed.

Now, alone. An outlaw who left the Van der Linde gang, just like John and Arthur. It was too dangerous, too much was going on. Disappearing was hard on you. But finding out Arthur was gone...

That stung. A fury for his demise. Sure, it ended his pain faster from Tuberculosis, but the hands of those who ended him... That hit home.

It would never be a full solitude with the lingering memories of happiness, the struggles together. Were they all worth something now that he was gone? Unable to return to the gang due to distrust. Alone you were... Ironic how easy trust can be snapped like it is formed. Would the revenge be worth it…?