the ‘tick, tick’ of a revolver immediately drew your eyes, causing you to freeze in your tracks at the shadow that loomed over you, darkening the wall just ahead of your peripheral.

“drop yer weapon and i won’t kill ya, lass.”

the ‘Van der Linde’ gang. you knew that accent from anywhere- the gang’s first protégé, Arthur Morgan.

the cold, short barrel of the small gun hit the back of your scalp, and you gulped, hesitating.

your backup and runaway team was miles away— and sending any sort of signal for them was out of the question.

“turn around. lemme see what i’m workin’ with, yeah?” he interrupted your thoughts, bumping your head with the tip of his revolver tauntingly.