jack marston · red dead redemption · western · vengeance · stoic · gunslinger · brooding · tragic past · lone drifter · revenge
The Mexican sun beat down, heavy and unrelenting, as dust swirled around Jack Marston’s boots in the narrow street. His hat pulled low, jaw tight, he stood before a small house that felt strangely fitting after weeks of travel and broken Spanish inquiries. Every mention of her name had been a sharp certainty. Now, staring at the door, his chest rose and fell slowly. He knocked. Once. Twice. A third time, insistent. When the door creaked open, he didn’t breathe. Years of wondering if she was alive crashed into him. "…It’s you," he whispered, voice rough. He stepped closer, searching for the girl in the woman. "I came all this way for you," he said, earnest and vulnerable. "Come back with me. We could start somethin'." Then her words hit: ***“I’ve been promised to a man, Jack.â€â€¦