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thedo0zyslider · 4 months

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Taken (Far Away From Here) - Chapter One: Found You - 6k Words

Martyn's past finally catches up to him. Jimmy places himself right in the middle of it.

A03

Word is that, around midday, a bandit or two seem to be causing trouble in the middle of the mesa. At first, upon hearing the news, Jimmy just sighs. He figures it's probably Martyn again, attempting to do one of those wild west wagon heists he always tries to do. Or he's just fooling around and being stupid, another normal occurrence with the local bandit.

But then he hears that there are multiple bandits. Three at the least, maybe four, and he gets a little concerned. That is definitely not just Martyn. Martyn works solo, and he’s said as much to the Sheriff and any deputy he’d even had when they questioned him. He’d insisted on it fiercely.

So this way clearly something else, something that might actually be a real problem. Something he had to stop everything and deal with. He takes a moment to find his deputy before leaving, Rowan, the one who'd replaced a certain goblin. He tells her that if he's not back in an hour, to start looking for him. She agrees to it, and then the Sheriff is on his way out.

Jimmy gets out there, after about twenty or so minutes of riding his horse as fast as it will go. He knows he is nearby when he hears the sounds of shouting and a pretty bad scuffle. That’s when the Sheriff picks up the pace, panic starting to set into his bones. He thinks one of the voices is Martyn’s.

When he finally gets close enough to see the commotion, there are four people fighting. Well, more like three guys kicking the fourth, outnumbered on to the ground. The fourth that is the one yelling in pain and anger, the very man Jimmy seems to be on the hunt for. So he gets even closer, and starts yelling out to them when he is in earshot. Four heads turn at the sound, and before Jimmy knows it he is off his horse and right in the middle of the confrontation. The very situation part of him had been greatly hoping to avoid. But this time it seemed way more than worth it.

“Sheriff! Oh thank god!” Martyn says, his voice absolutely trembling with relief. He was indeed the bandit Jimmy had seen on the floor, being held down. There were three other criminals around him, all who looked pretty threatening in their own right. One was a man with a fair amount of scars littering his arms, and a shirt with ripped sleeves, revealing his tanned arms. He was the one holding Martyn down, seemingly as tight as he could.

Another bandit, one with very pale skin, white hair and a scar over his eye, as well as baggy clothes, took a warning step closer to the Sheriff. The last man, one with darker skin and curly hair, seemed to be the least aggressive. For right now at least. He just stood there, ready to step in when the situation required it. “You gotta help me man…” Martyn begged, giving each bandit around them a cautious glance. Glances that also seemed to hold fear as well, deep down in them, if you knew where to look for it. Like they would do worse than just hold him down, and the blonde bandit knew it with a kind of certainty.

Jimmy’s never really seen Martyn genuinely scared before. Not like this. An indicator the situation is far worse than he originally assumed then. A rather worrying indicator indeed. He took a cautious step forward, and one of them went to grab at Martyn’s collar in response. The blonde’s eyes widen a bit in fear at that, and he goes rigid.

“I’m sure we can all sort this out.” He says, holding his hands out in front of him. “Peacefully.” The Sheriff adds, his eyes darting to the man’s hold on Martyn. He’s hoping he isn’t making this worse, he hopes they aren’t going to hurt him. Not too badly at least. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it comes to that.

He takes a few steps forwards, and Martyn is shoved harshly to the floor. The bandit lets out a pained cry as he is further injured, and Jimmy is pretty sure his tail lashes with rage and he sees nothing but pure, blood colored red.

“Hey now! Hey!” He barked, quickly grabbing for the handle of his gun. “Get your hands off him!” Jimmy took another step forward, and raised his weapon on warning. With hindsight, going on the offensive instantly was an admittedly horrible idea, and possibly the direct reason for what happens next. He does have a loaded gun, after all. And the legal power to get away with murder if he so desired.

Next thing he knew, the Sheriff was being hit on the back of the head. The white haired criminal had moved behind him, fast as the wind, and elbowed the blonde right in the back of his skull. He let out a yelp of pain, unbalanced, and a leg trips him up so he goes tumbling to the ground.

Martyn calls out his name, and it sounds like a small scuffle starts where he is. Jimmy, despite his spinning head, tries to prop himself up and feel around for his gun. He's kicked again in the sides, over and over again. While he tries to fend off the attacker, the Sheriff steals any glimpse of Martyn he can. Currently the other two seem to be holding him down and tying him up. Which is bad. Bad, bad, bad . Lord knows where they're gonna take him, what they're with him-

He yelps, another blow being delivered to his head. Martyn screams out his name again, more desperate and worried than he had been the first time. Jimmy can really only fight back a little, after having been taken so off guard. He never manages to get ahold of his gun or hat, both of which lie a few feet away from him, but the Sheriff does get in a few good hits. Enough to make his attacker.

A second one joins in however, and the world goes dark, the sounds of desperate cries ringing in the Sheriff's ears.

“Don’t touch him, don’t you dare! ” Martyn starts to scream again, futility kicking in thrashing against his binds. Fighting his captors the best he can, even trying to bite at any wayward limb that got within range. “Don’t you dare fucking touch him! Get off me! Get off!” He snarls, like a rabid animal, as if desperate to protect the Sheriff. The very man that's supposed to have arrested him long ago.

One of them--he can't see which bandit it is--starts to drag him away from the scene. Yet he still kicks against the cool floor of the mesa as he is dragged, hoping that will do something. He is mostly just kicking up dust, unfortunately for the both of them. “Jimmy! Sheriff!” Martyn yells, screams out. He sounds desperate and panicked even to his own ears.

He watches as the other two bandits give one last kick at the Sheriff’s form, helpless to stop as they did so. He screams and thrashes again and again and again, hoping to do something. If he screams loud enough maybe someone will hear, maybe they can save him, maybe they can help Jimmy. Maybe that new deputy he'd hired is on her way right now and can hear him, maybe backup is coming. If Jimmy wakes up right now maybe he can save him-

The bandit who's dragging him, by the shirt collar no less, suddenly jerks up himwards. Martyn’s cries are cut off by a pained sound, and he briefly worries that they're going to choke him and leave his body to rot in the middle of nowhere. He doesn't recognize this part of the mesa, not anymore, so they have taken him very far away from home already.

“Hush him up, please.” A familiar voice says, and they stop moving. It takes a few moments, but Martyn is able to recognize it as Skizz. His tone isn't harsh, but rather somber. And maybe even almost unwilling.

BigB is crouching in front of him before he knows it, with a cloth to tie around his mouth. He doesn't look happy about doing this, his eyes shining with sympathy for his old friend. So Martyn takes his chance to plead quietly.

“B please….” He nearly whispers out, right before the other puts the cloth over his mouth. He doesn't want the other to hear, but doesn’t care if they do. He's already fought like an animal, might as well beg like one too.

“Please don't do this.” The blonde feels his real fear slipping through, the mask he normally wears shattering into pieces. He can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't. He doesn't know what will happen if he does. Though he thinks he might die.

A sob threatens to leave him, and Martyn gives one last plea before he is silenced. BigB wears a look of pain on his face. “I don't wanna go back there.” The cloth is tied around his face regardless, but BigB does it half-heartedly. Like he doesn't want to be here almost as much as Martyn does.

Even with the cloth, and the extra binds they add to his limbs so he stops thrashing, Martyn still protests. But now they just come out as whimpers and honestly pathetic sounding cries. Some even panicked and were fearful. He didn't cry through, the blonde wouldn't, not in front of these people. Never in front of them ever again.

Yet his now weaker pleas and protests do nothing, and the lonely bandit is slowly but surely brought back to his old stomping grounds. At some point they get horses, and he endures the worst and bumpiest ride of his life.

A few hours later, when the sun is starting to set, they reach their destination. They've been moving for a while at least, because this was always very very far from where Tumble Town had sprung up. A cave system with buildings around and attached to it, a place Martyn hasn't laid eyes on in years; and thought he never would again. He is dragged into the cave, probably right towards that old dungeon they never quite had the chance to use before. Before today that is, probably. Hopefully. He doesn't know what his captors have been doing since they split, he just hopes it wasn't something far too insane.

Once they are underground, Etho shoves him off the horse, and watches his former friend fall helplessly. Like a fucking assshole . Martyn lands on the ground with a muffled cry of pain, falling on his arm awkwardly.

From what Martyn could see from the ground, Skizz gave Etho a punch on the arm and a pretty good scolding for that. BigB just sighed, and got down from his horse with a frown while his two allies bickered behind them. He gently tied the horse to the nearest rein, before turning back to the new prisoner.

He gently moved his old ally into a sitting position, offering a tight smile. Martyn would've tried to return it, if his mouth wasn't covered from view. BigB was honestly the only bandit he would let touch him, for his hands were still as kind as they had always been. And Etho was in a foul mood today, plus Skizz was known to be scarily loyal.

BigB slowly removes his half-hearted knot in the back of cloth, doing it quickly. Mainly because Etho and Skizz have stopped arguing and put their horses in their temporary spot as well, the two men's attention now back on their prionsser. And as soon as his old friend removes the cloth and steps away, the blonde immediately starts hurling threats and other such words you should not say to your kidnappers.

“I swear to god if you hurt him, I’ll rip your fucking throat out- ” Martyn growls, glaring up at his captors properly for the first time. The people he had once called friends. The thought of doing so right now made him truly sick to his stomach.

“Relax, he’s fine.” Etho cuts him off, calm and collected as ever. Annoyingly so, in fact, considering he’d just beat the living shit out of someone. “Just passed out.”

“That's not any fucking better.” Martyn spat, struggling against his ropes a bit more. Give him an hour or so and he could probably work his way out of these. He'd wormed his way out of worse predicaments over the years. Plus he was the guy who always tied the knots and picked the locks, back in the day.

“Just be quiet, please?” Was what Etho responded with. He turned to Skizz and BigB, as if Martyn did not matter at the moment. The blonde wanted to jump up and punch the living hell out of him so badly and it was so frustrating that he couldn't.

“B, can you take the horses up? I hate leaving ‘em down here for too long.” Etho asks, nodding to the other man. BigB nods, and quickly vanishes right back up the way they came. He seems to want to remove himself from this whole situation as fast as possible. Honestly, Martyn can’t really fault him for that. He wouldn’t wanna be here either, as either captor or captee.

“Do you want me to get Ren?” Skizz asks after a moment, when BigB is out of sight and earshot. Like he didn’t want his ally to hear that part, for whatever reason. Martyn cannot help but wonder what has changed and what has not since he’s been gone, and how much of that was his fault.

Etho just shook his head. “No, he'll show up when he wants to. I want you to take our prisoner to his cell.” He flicked his gaze back over to Martyn once more, as if he remembered that the blonde was there and on the floor. No emotion shown in his one good eye. All of Martyn’s insects were still screaming to give him a matching scar right there. “Take him to a cell, if we have one.”

“On it bossman!” Skizz said with a salute, and walked over to the prisoner. Martyn said nothing as he was nudged to his feet, and Etho disappeared somewhere else into the base; presumably to his room. Skizzle tied another rope to his upper arm, extra insurance that he wouldn’t book it, and started to lead him down to the cells. If they had any, because they barely did when Martyn had left. Their group was never fond of taking prisoners, except in extreme instances. And apparently the blonde himself was one of those extreme instances.

Martyn studied the walls as they walked, walls he had once knew very well. Walls that had once been his home for god knows how long. But they weren’t home anymore, hadn’t been in half a decade. And they never would be again. Now the walls felt slightly unknown to him, like strangers and ghosts of people he’d once known had come and claimed them. The blonde could feel himself getting almost mournful over the thought, too.

“Where is he?” Martyn asked quietly, following behind Skizz dutifully. Mainly because if he did try to run, the blonde knew he'd just get attacked again and maybe knocked out this time. Which he really doesn’t want right now, even if he would like to get a good hit on one of these guys before he goes.

“Either trying to wager with another crime boss, or getting wasted.” The man hummed, not even needing to ask who he was referring to. They both knew there was only one option, after all.

“He wanted me so badly but won't even show up to my kidnapping.” Martyn muttered, glaring at the familiar floor beneath him. Typical fucking Ren.

Skizz seemed to hold back a frustrated sigh when he spoke next, and tightened his grip on the rope he held. Way too tight, Martyn might add. “He's been a mess since you left, you know.”

“Oh yeah,” He snorted, his tone souring in an instant. Because his ex was the messed up one here. “Such a mess he spread rumors about me and fucked up my good name.” His good name in the criminal world, for the record; his name wasn't really known elsewhere. It had taken years to fix his reputation, years . It had stopped people from wanting to work with him and cost him god knows how much money. Safe to say, the blonde was still pretty bitter over it.

“Those rumors are forgotten now, man. Plus he was always drunk out of his mind-” Skizz argued back, quickening his pace. He probably didn’t want to talk about this conversion, but the topic was not going to be dropped anytime soon.

“You know that doesn't excuse him! I know you know better than that!” Maryn raised his voice suddenly, his ears flattering back in rising anger. Skizz would hate anyone else for doing that, but as soon as it’s his beloved leader it’s right and justified? Or he acts like it is? Fucking hypocritical bullshit, thats what that is.

“I-”

“Ren tells everyone I'm a cheating whore but it's okay because he’s drunk and heartbroken? Really? ” Martyn says, glaring at Skizz. The cheating whore rumor was the first one, and the one that stung the most. A few others followed after it, mostly about how Martyn was going to steal all his poor co-workers money and run. Which wasn’t true, because he didn’t even take half of the Red Army's money when he left! He only took enough to feed himself until he could get another gig.

The only way other criminals would work with him was if he told them the truth. If he told them all about Ren's crazy batshit plan and that he left before everything went wrong. And Martyn didn't want to do that, he didn't want to lie or reveal his ex-fiance’s plan to everyone before it happened. But his hand had been forced, and he liked having money to eat with.

He was also bitter about being called a cheating whore and a slut. (Even if getting wasted and sleeping around didn't help his image at all. But hey, unhealthy coping mechanisms. They get you when you least expect it.) So maybe revealing that stupid Bandit King plan was more satisfying than it should've been.

“….No, you're right.” “I guess I just…feel bad for him. I watched him lose his mind, literally, and he's still recovering.”

“Well I'm sorry he's mentally ill, but he still fucked my life up.” Martyn hisses, and his tail lashes against the ground with a loud thud as they stop. They are at the prison area now, and Skizz has to fumble with a key and unlock the door. Martyn gets the pleasure of remembering his stupid drinking problems that had spurred because of the rumors and the breakup, and how it had almost killed him. So excuse him if he's not very sympathetic to Ren, especially after he was fucking kidnapped by the man’s goons.

He thinks Ren was going insane while they were dating anyway. And that it wasn't entirely Martyn’s fault to begin with. They both came pre-packaged with all sorts of problems, after all.

“Well, that's something you both have in common then.” Skizz huffs, opening the door to his new cell. He shoves Martyn inside, his touch more gentle than he had been before. The blonde says nothing, and helplessly lets himself be chained to the ground. It’s not like him to be so hopeless, to give up so easily. Normally he would be fighting against the chains, screaming and making one hell of a fight. Maybe that shows just how much this place scares him now, how much it breaks him.

Skizz leaves him there, tied to the floor and with the vague promise of food, water, and bathroom breaks. (Because Martyn knows damn well they still have a working bathroom somewhere in this place) When the boss gets back, he says. Whatever time or day that may be. And if Ren isn’t wasted. A very good promise, reassuring too. Totally doesn’t make Martyn feel like he’s going to rot and die in this cell, like he’s some sort of scum. Like he didn’t help build this whole place from the dirt up, like he hadn’t been the bosses right hand man for so many years.

A few hours later, after a lot of shuffling around, no food, and trying to calculate and escape route; the door opens. The very man Martyn has been dreading to see the most walks in, and the blonde has to stop himself from doing…anything. He holds back any reaction, as their eyes meet through his ex-fiance’s sunglasses, and time seems to stop for a moment.

“Me hand, welcome home.” Ren says, his voice monotone. That old accent grades on Martyn’s ears, and he hates hearing it. It brings back far too many memories. The good and the bad, all the things of either that he would rather not remember. Even looking at the man has the same effect, because he’s in that old robe and cape again, goddammit .

When the blonde cannot muster any response, for his tongue is locked in place, the old king keeps talking. He’s about to go on one of his rants or speeches or whatever, something his snappy prisoner is not in the fucking mood for right now. Nor will he never, ever be again. "Not even gonna say hi to me, eh hand? That’s a shame.”

“I'm not calling you Mi Lord or whatever, for the record.” Martyn interrupts, glaring up at Ren. It was a weak glare, but it got how he was feeling across pretty well. The blonde thought he would say that, since the other was already bringing out those dumbass nicknames again. He thought so anyway. Ren just huffed, ignoring his comment as he continued on with his rant. Which was absolutely great and lovely .

“You’re with that Sheriff now, aren’t ye?” Ren said, his tail now lashing behind him as he spoke. Martyn preferred to watch it rather than his owner's face and whatever expression it might boast. “Gonna promise to marry him too?”

“Drop the fake accent, Ren.” Martyn hissed, trying not to flinch. Trying not to show how much that comment stung. He didn’t have to be such an ass during their first conversation in five years, now did he.

“Fine.” Ren huffed, his fists already balling up at his side. His tail gave an irritated flick as he spoke, and his ears twitched with the emotion occasionally as well. “But the damn Sheriff? Really?”

“You don't get a say in my life anymore! Not after this! ” The blonde spat, still glaring up at the dog with disgust. He didn’t get a say in his love life, not anymore. No one did anymore. He’ll date and mess around with whoever he wants to, thank you very much.

Ren makes a broad, questioning gesture with his arms. “This?”

“Yeah this! ” He spits again, kicking one of his boots against the ground in….some sort of gesture. He talks with his (currently tied up) hands normally, okay? “Kidnapping and tying me to the floor, that's a real good way to make me fall for you again.”

“Shut up!” Ren barks, his stupid accent slipping amongst the anger in his tone. Fucking finally. Martyn’s already tired of listening to it. “I'm not trying to get you back!”

“I think you are!” He snaps, struggling against his ropes again, the one on his legs and the ones holding him to the floor. He either needs to run out of here or punch this asshole, no in betweens right now.

“And why is that?” The brunette huffs, throwing his arms up in the air in what seems to be slight outrage. The blonde wouldn’t know, he can’t read this guy like a book. Not anymore, not like he used too. They were both far too bitter and jaded about each other for that nowadays.

Martyn rolled his eyes in frustration, his tail kicking up dust as it flicked behind him in annoyance. “Everytime I hear about you, you're trying to find me or something like that! You're obsessed!”

“Well I'm sorry for being so upset, after you proposed to me and ran off! ” Ren retorted, hands angrily being placed on his hips and his ears flattening back as he talked and talked and talked. “I'm just trying to get my old fiance back-”

“I'm not the same man you fell in love with, okay!? That man was going to kill you!” Martyn yelled out suddenly, his tail starting to lash behind him. His chest heaved with leftover emotion, and all the blonde wanted to do was sit and rot in his own misery. But no, Ren just had to barge in here and have the conversation. Because of course he did, he could never let Martyn have any peace, not anymore.

Ren stops his berating, and seems to blink in surprise at his outburst. “You were…?”

“Heh, yep. That was the plan.” The blonde said, a broken kind of laugh escaping him despite himself. God his old plan….how much it stung to remember and retell. “I was gonna let you get all rich and powerful, and be the Bandit King. And then I would kill you and take it all for myself. So I could win.”

He leaned his head back, so he didn't have to see Ren's face. Even if those dumb sunglasses still held his light blue eyes from view. “And I knew I could do it too.”

“So what changed?” The former king asked, quieter than he had been this whole time. The softness of his voice was so shocking, it seemed almost misplaced in the situation.

“Well, I cared more about the gold than my fiance. Figured if that was the case, then I didn't really love you as much as I believed I did.” Martyn said it simply. He'd basically figured out he was a piece of shit, and then Ren had probably deserved better than a man planning his murder. And he didn't know what else to do other than run. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ren growled again, going back to the original subject. He was growling a lot today, it seemed. The blonde must be pissing him off pretty bad for that. “But you love that goddamn Sheriff more than gold?”

“Yes.” He says, and that is the whole and honest truth. He hates that he still feels compelled to never lie to this guy. Stupid old undying loyalty of his.

“ Why. ” The brunette asks, almost commands. Maybe that long gone power is rushing back to his head right now. “He's not that great of a person, ya know.”

“Like you can talk.” Martyn mumbled, his gaze fixed on the cold stone floor below once again. His ex really can't, not after the last five years. He'd argue the both of them were just as bad, even with Jimmy’s…..questionable law bending and near irrational respect and anger issues taken into account.

“ Why. ” Ren repeats, demanding. He should know that his old flame isn't one for demands, and that still hasn't changed a single bit. Yet there he goes, demanding anyways.

“Why do you think I fell for you?” Martyn asked, somewhat rhetorically. He kinda genuinely wanted to know his ex's answer to that, just to see what he would say. Unfortunately, the brunette is not up for playing games right now. A crying shame, really.

“ Why. ” Ren repeated again, not caring for any of the blonde's games. Well then, if he wanted the real answer, he'll get that. Even if Martyn knows it's more likely to annoy him than satisfy whatever jealousy he has.

“Well he's handsome, for starters.” Martyn hummed casually. He looked out for the way Ren's ears flattened with slight annoyance, and any movement of his tail that indicated the feeling. “You want me to keep going?” He smirked, watching the deep frown stretching across his ex's face.

“No.” Ren huffs, clearly annoyed. .

“You asked.” The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. You get what you ask for, and Ren had asked for something he knew would make him mad. And now he's all worked up about it.

“What else have you done with him?” Ren pops the final question, seeming just as ready to be done with as Martyn is. It is a question he should not have asked, with some hindsight, but some that is out of nothing but pure curiosity. “Other than flirting, I mean.”

And for some reason, the blonde knew it would be wrong to lie about this one thing, or never mention it, so he said the worst thing he could possibly ever say in response. Like a fucking stupid idiot would, of course.

“…I sang the wedding song to him.” Martyn murmured, flinching before he even got a reaction to his words.

Ren growled loudly, and for a fleeting second, the blonde feared he would gain another bruise. Maybe worse. “Get out of my sight.”

“Dude, I'm chained to the floor.” Martyn retorted, risking the smallest of glances upwards. What he did see of the dog's face held nothing but probably justifiable anger. The blonde did not want to be in a room with him ever again, especially not right now. He knows how volatile Ren's anger can easily become.

Ren growled at the last sarcastic remark, and lashed his tail one more time at the comment. After that he practically stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Once he is alone again, Martyn feels his shoulders slump and like he can finally breathe for the first time that day.

It’s gonna be a long few days, stuck on this stone cold floor and chains. And with whatever food he’ll be thrown. As he settles down for the day, curling up in on himself best he can, the blonde just hopes he can get a good night’s sleep; for the first night anyways. Before the ground really starts digging into his back.

His head hits the cold ground, and he is instantly missing the warmth of a good bed, and the man who usually shares it with him.

Jimmy groans as he comes too, covering his face with his hand. There’s light from somewhere, and it’s doing his pounding head no good. He scrunches up his nose, and tries to bury himself further into whatever soft pillow or blanket seems to be under him.

Wait. Why is there a blanket around him.

He was last in the mesa, not anywhere near civilization. Passed out on the ground with a head injury, amongst others. He should be waking up cold and bleeding, not warm and feeling relatively unscathed.

He sits up slowly, opening his eyes. The Sheriff was back in his room, at his house and in his bed. The covers are thrown over him, and he finds that a bandage has been placed upon his head. His outfit is still on, minus the hat and badge placed on his nightstand a few feet away. Judging by the light streaming in from his closed windows, it’s just now getting to be sunset. Meaning he’d been out for at least six hours, give or take one.

“Mornin’ Sheriff.” His deputy appears in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against the frame. She’s changed out of her work clothes, and is now in a more casual but still western styled outfit. The jeans are still on though, Jimmy doesn't think he’s ever seen her without a pair of jeans, in and outside of work.

“Roxanne…?” He muttered, blinking a few times. Just to stop his vision from spinning, since it kinda was at the moment. “How did I get here?”

“I waited an hour, and you didn’t come back. So I went a looking, and found you knocked out and bleeding a little bit.” She said, taking a few steps further into the room. She walked towards one of the windows, and closed the curtains. She must’ve been able to sense that even the dim light of sunset was bothering him, and Jimmy silently thanked her.

“That’s why I have a bandage.” He muttered dumbly, staring at the other bandage that seemed to have spawned on his right arm and hand. Owie.

“So,” Roxanne said, leaning against the headboard, her arms crossed over her chest comfortably. “What happened out there?”

“Well, you know our usual bandit? The blonde one?” He asked, and his deputy nodded in conformation. It was a stupid question, because of course she knew who the town’s one main criminal was, but he still asked it anyways before continuing on. “Three other bandits came in, knocked me out and dragged him away.”

“You know what they look like?” Roxanne asked, her eyes wide. That’s the most shock she would show over the incident, even if it clearly did catch her off guard. It wasn’t like any of the local bandits to get the bold, or to tango with the Sheriff. They all knew better than that, which means these guys weren’t local. Which also meant they were big trouble, more often than not. Jimmy nods, his thoughts clearly elsewhere than the new criminals' appearances. “Yeah, yeah I can do the sketch for the wanted posters.”

They lapse into silence for a few moments, both of them thinking. One trying to wrap his head around the day, and what tragedy had befallen him. The other is thinking of ways to help out, what other things need to be done around town, and how to break some pretty bad and terrifying news to her boss. She decides to just rip the bandaid off after a few moments of pondering.

“There was also…this left at the tavern earlier.” Roxanne said after a few minutes of nothing, pulling a folded up piece of paper from her jean pocket. She handed it to the Sheriff a little reluctantly, as if she almost didn’t want him to read the notes contents. He doesn’t want himself to read it either, in all honesty. Jimmy guesses what the note is, and what it;s about as soon as his eyes land on it. He wishes it wasn’t real.

The Sheriff takes the piece of paper, unfolds it, and reads what is Martyn’s fucking ransom note.

Dear Jimmy, Sheriff of Tumble Town,

As you will probably come to know, we have taken your local bandit, one that you seem to be housing, hostage. The bandit has been an enemy of ours for years, and you have willingly been keeping him under your protection. As payment for such crimes, we have taken your town’s most beloved bartender as well. To get him back safely, we demand a payment of 500 gold. We are sure you can pay it, it's just a small amount to such a wealthy town, after all. And, well, if you don’t cough up the money…..then we are afraid there will be no more bartender.

You have two weeks to make the payment. Have it in before then, and all will be well. You’re smart enough to know what will happen if you don’t.

Signed, The Red King of The Red Army.

Jimmy just stares at the words for a second, almost taken aback by what he had just read. “They took Martyn.” He muttered quietly, not sure if Roxanne could hear it, the words somewhat being for her ears as well as his.

These bandits, this army, whoever they were, they clearly knew the bandit and the bartender were one in the same. They had to. They were covering for him, as well as holding him hostage for money and whatever revenge they wanted to enact. The plan was well researched, and well thought out. Meaning they had been hanging around the town, spying and disguised as normal people. They could’ve been anyone he’s spoken to over the last god knows how many days, maybe even weeks to months at this point.

The group of three, maybe now four, was a lot more dangerous than he had originally envisioned. The Sheriff has to wonder what Martyn did to wrong these people, for them to react so horribly. He wonders if he even wants to know what one could do to anger such a dangerous group of criminals like theirs..

“We need to search.” Jimmy says, finally tearing his eyes from the paper. He folds it up, and sets it down somewhere on the bed. Somewhere for him to find it and fret over later, when he is alone with nothing but his racing thoughts.

Roxannae just shook her head in reply, and went to pick up the ransom note. She knew what would come of leaving it around, it seemed. “Respectfully, sir, I don’t think you should make that search party.”

“Because it puts them in too much danger?” Jimmy guessed, holding back a sigh. He hated that his deputy had a point here. He wanted to find Martyn as soon as possible, and a search party was the most efficient way to do that in his mind.

“Yes.” She agrees, opening the drawer to his nightstand and slipping the note inside, before returning the drawer back to its original state and closing it. “You gonna save the bandit too, when you go to get him?”

“I can’t just leave a man there to die, innocent or not.” The Sheriff huffed, feeling his ears flick downwards in displeasure. She was unknowingly suggesting he leave Martyn to die back there, something Jimmy cannot even fathom doing in any circumstance.

“He steals from us all the time, sir.” Roxanne pointed out, being right again. His deputy is frustratingly good at that, being right when he’s not. That’s why she’s the deputy though, he supposes.

“That bandit is a man in need, and technically a part of our town. And I said I would help every citizen I need, every single one.” The blonde said, feeling his fists ball around the sheets under him as he spoke. “That’s a Sheriff duty, to serve and protect.”

“Well, if you say so, Sheriff.” Roxanne shrugged, knowing when her boss was not likely to budge on a matter. “I’ll get the wanted and missing posters up by noon tomorrow.” How she would do so without a drawing was beyond him, unless she was saving him making the sketches for the morning. Which the Sheriff was more than okay with right now. He was damn tired from the day’s excitement, and felt like he was barely hanging in there.

“Thank you, Roxanne.” He offers her the kindest smile he can muster in the moment, watching as his deputy takes a few steps towards the bedroom door.

“I already told you, just call me Roxy.” The deputy smiles back, and she would absolutely be tipping her hat at him if she was wearing it. Sadly though, that seems to have vanished with the rest of her work clothes a few hours before.

Jimmy felt his smile widen, it feels a little stronger than it just had a few seconds before, somehow. “Right, Roxy. Right.”

“Now you get some rest and food now before you pass out again.”Roxy says, already starting to take her leave as she speaks. “But take it easy for a few days, you hit your head pretty bad.” The door swing shuts behind her, and his partner in crime vanishes to supposedly go and do the rest of both their duties for the day, if she hast done so already,

“Yes ma’am!” He calls after his deputy, and flops back down in the red once more. He sighs as his injured head hits the pillow, and immediately feels like he is missing something. That something is off about the room.

Martyn had just shared this place with him the night prior, and should be stumbling in after a day of work in a few hours. If he so chooses that day, however.

There is a feeling, a longing, for the missing warmth that is normally beside him. A yearning deep in his soul for something that is his, that had been wrongfully taken from him. Something that the Sheriff so desperately wanted back.

Jimmy sighs again, and knows this is going to be a very, very long night.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #bandit au #inthelittlewood #jimmy solidarity #renthedog #ethoslab #bigbst4tz2 #skizzleman #trafficshipping #taken (fafh)

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