Work Text:
Galloping hooves fill the evening air as horses dash through the deserted plains, their riders’ clothing flailing behind as they kick at their horses’ sides, urging them to slow just the slightest bit.
For this, they could take their time.
Their leader, the one in the front of the pack sits straight, back arching as his figure stretches in the pale moonlight.
His bandana covers the lower half of his face, and his long messy hair is tucked away in a low brimmed hat. The outfit covers his whole face, but his charred clothing and his eyes shining in the dim light makes him look almost like a ghost, or a monster of sorts.
The latter seems to be more accurate, the way his menacing figure glides across the terrain with horrifying grace. Every single move he makes is precise, meaningful. Something about each one holds danger, like if one were to even blink, they’d be shot dead.
The group behind him acts almost like a pack of wolves, or even a flock of vultures, circling above their prey. Their existence announces demise immediately, and not even the night itself seems to want to challenge them, for the only sound roaring in their ears is the pounding of hooves.
A single building at first blends in with the dark sky, but then, another pops up, then another, and another. Soon an entire town of houses stands right on the edge of their eyeline. It’s almost what they seem to be expecting, because whoops of laughter and the flashing of bright white teeth shine in the starlight.
They near the residence, thundering past a wooden sign with big loopy letters that read a name of a town. The group pays no mind however, leaving the sign to creak back and forth in the wind as they ride, sneers in the night doubling as they find their way closer, because to them, this place has no name or meaning.
Just outside, they come to a sudden stop, the unsettling noise becoming horrifyingly absent as they stare at the peaceful town square only a wandering away. Their snickers fall short as they come to a halt, eyes all drawing near toward the center figure, who holds his hand up in the universal position to stay.
He dismounts quickly, landing to the ground with a soft crunch on the dirt floor. His crew of criminals does not follow, their eyes instead turning to the concrete buildings around them. Each and everyone of them is dark inside, not a stray light of candle to be seen.
It’s expected of course, but their gazes follow the lone leader as he strides ever so confidently forward, to a house that’s just a little bit taller than the other ones. His feet do not faulter as he knocks firmly upon the bright red door, the light bouncing off the cream building as he takes off his hat, holding it closely to his chest.
Blond hair falls to his upper back, the locks unruly and wiry as they snake off into different directions flooding out from his head and all the way past his neck. He shifts to one foot, sliding his hat under his arm as he reaches for something at his waist.
Not a moment later, the door swings open, revealing a blonde-haired woman who stands tall. Her icy blue eyes narrow at the man, like he’s uninvited company. That’s exactly what he is, with the way her whole body stiffens as she steps to the side of the door to begrudgingly let him through.
The figure lowers his bandana as he makes his way into the threshold of the house, twisting through the doorways until he plops himself down in a chair at the kitchen table, warm from where the woman must have been waiting for him.
She doesn’t say a word in response, following shortly afterward and sitting in her seat just across from him.
The man tosses his hat on the table, stretching his nimble limbs as he leans back in the chair, shoulders dipping down in a gesture of sorts, allowing the woman to speak.
“Why’re you here?” She asks, her voice holding bits of tremors in it as she speaks.
The man smiles slowly, as if quite satisfied by her fear.
“You know exactly why I’m here, darlin’, the question is if you’ll behave or not.”
He leans forward, pressing his hands on the table. “So, where is that bastard headin’ off to?”
The woman’s tone gives away nothing as she tells him, “I know nothin’ ‘bout the bastard you so speak of.”
The man lets out a hard laugh, leaning back and looking toward the ceiling as he strokes the stubble growing at his chin.
“That’s too bad,” he says after a minute. “Because your husband told me allll ‘bout your little venture, trying to outrun me.”
He pauses. “So, I’ll ask again, Redek, where is he?”
The woman, miss Caprise Redek, gulps, unflinching. “I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about,” she mutters, her breath just above a whisper.
The man sighs, his face shining with disappointment. His mouth opens to say something, but Miss Redek’s arms shake under the table, and he falls silent, the sparkle in his eyes dimming.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Caprise. You have a family to live for.”
Her eyes glaze over, and she seems to pause, chin tilting to the floor above her, where her family lay completely unaware of what’s happening as they sleep.
But then, her gaze snaps back to Fintan’s cold, sharp face, and something in her visibly snaps.
“If you get what you’re asking, I’ll never have that.”
She draws out a gun, the metal gleaming in the candlelight, the whites of her eyes flashing as she almost seems to snarl.
The barrel of her gun points toward his temple, but his face stays unbothered, his charm not interrupted in the slightest. In fact, he just picks off an invisible speck of dust from his tunic, looking up to find Caprise’s bewildered expression.
“Let me tell you give you a tip,” he says instead. “If you’re going to shoot someone…”
His eyes shine, and as quick as a flash of lightning, his arm reaches out, knocking the gun out of Caprise’s hold and spinning it into his own hand. Before she even has time to register what happened, he already fires the trigger, bullet landing straight into her skull.
“…Don’t hesitate.”
Fintan sets the revolver gently onto the table, his hand lingering for just a moment before he steps out of the room, knowing that he was running out of time for his plan to work.
As he tries to rush out the door, a small voice from the staircase makes him turn around.
“Where’s mama?”
The girl can’t be older than five, rubbing at her eyes as she wonders where her mother, the person who loved her most in this world could have gone. Fintan lets a sad smile slip onto his face, and he bends down to get eye-level with her.
“She’s gone, but don’t worry, she wants me to take care of you.”
The girl’s eyes widen, and her eyes well with unshed tears, but she doesn’t let them over. She just stands there, her breathing heavy, and her tiny little hands gripping in and out of fists. She blows out a breath.
“Unless you’d like to stay with your daddy, of course.”
Her nose wrinkles, and she shakes her head. “Daddy doesn’t like me very much.”
“Well, that’s his fault,” Fintan tells her, offering his hand.
She takes it.
Ushering her out of the house, Fintan shuts the door behind him, walking through the town square, which hadn’t seemed to have changed at all. Only…shinier, the walls and the rooves and the stones all reflecting in the moonlight.
He grins, hoisting girl up so she can cling to his neck, and with his free hand he reaches down at his waist, feeling cold metal against the pads of his fingers.
His long fingers click it into place, and he holds it up up up toward the sky, before dropping it down to the floor, reaching down and swiping by his feet with it. The lighter, despite all odds, catches on the invisible liquid that trails around the village, the trail setting ablaze as it spreads to every building.
Shielding the girl’s eyes from the heat, he strides toward his horse, mounting easily with her in his arms. She fell asleep easily, her small body leaning back against him as he nudged his stallion forward.
Within a few minutes, the town was reduced to a blazing beacon in the distance, nothing but a landmark now. Fintan’s crew whoops and hollows, louder than the coyotes yipping in the distance.
Even the moon coward away from their victory, flying through the barren terrain as their only source of real light hides away, the crew of criminals turn to simple silhouettes their details all blending in with the land and the sky around them.
It’s only the start of the never-seen.