Rdr2 Arthur Grave Novels & Stories

Time-stamped from three minutes ago, but it had just delivered. **P.S. - I lied. Arthur Blackwood dies in 10 minutes. Come watch.** Below it, a location. Pier 17. Ten minute countdown started.

The Beta Wolf twitched in fear as he looked into those monstrous eyes and without further ado, Arthur snapped the neck his neck. The other two retreated a few steps whilst Arthur bared his fangs with furiousness and a renewed growl. He trotted towards them with his Vampiric speed that they became startled. He thrust his left into one's chest and grabbed the other by the neck. With a growl he pulled the heart and broke the neck of the other. Their bodies fell lifelessly with Arthur's hand already coated in blood. Then his eyes fell on Gamma Reece who alighted from the car. Her heart pacing incredibly and her breaths heavy. It was evident she planned to run but he jetted to her front. In a br

He tilted his gaze down, assessing Arthur like a predator. Arthur’s throat forced out a dry, grating laugh, every sound dripping desperation. He twisted, slammed his remaining hand toward a shattered obsidian tile! Massive gears ground and screeched. A multi-ton alloy gate dropped, cutting off the faint light. Drainage vent jammed. Ventilation system froze. Fan blades locked. “I’ve memorized every inch of the zero-series chamber!” Arthur spat blood, face pressed to the tiles. “Let me go! Cut me a deal… or we all suffocate here!”

His own breathing is uneven, but he holds her like she’s the only solid thing left. “They won’t,” he whispers into her hair. “Not anymore. Not again.” The firetrucks are gone now, leaving only a skeleton of the hall they’d chosen hours earlier. The beams are still steaming, rain hissing as it lands on them. Arthur moves through the wreckage with a flashlight, his steps careful, expression tight. He doesn’t speak until he reaches the collapsed section of what used to be the ceremony platform. “I need a minute,” he calls to them. Julia lifts her head from Brandon’s shoulder. “Arthur…”

They were here to execute a scorched-earth liquidation. I stood on the extreme edge of the north pier, the freezing sea spray soaking through my white coat, my boots planted firmly on the cold concrete. Arthur was a mile back, secured in the deepest subterranean vault of the Iron Cathedral under the unblinking, heavy guard of Bear and forty veteran patches. My hands were encased in latex gloves, my heavy canvas trauma kit resting against my thigh, and my 9mm loaded with the jacketed hollow-points Ruan had given me for the dawn.

**Artemis P.O.V.** I woke up to something heavy weighing me down. When my eyes opened there was a large black wolf with its head on my stomach. I wiggled uncomfortably as my body felt stiff. I winced a little as a pain in my ribs reared its ugly head to life. As I wiggled the wolf turned to look at me and I gasped when I saw its cobalt blue eyes. ~ “That’s Tafari. He is Armand’s wolf”~

But to my surprise, Ezra doesn’t pull away just yet. Instead, he reaches forward and taps a button on the dashboard. A screen descends from the ceiling of the car, flickering to life with a live news broadcast. The presidential seal is visible on a podium, and a crowd of reporters waits expectantly, cameras flashing. Suddenly, Arthur walks into frame. The room falls silent as he adjusts the microphone and looks directly into the camera. And then, without preamble, Arthur leans into the microphone and says, “My mate is a human. We have a son together, and I’m tired of keeping them hidden away in the dark.”

"You're disrespecting the deceased! Pick up those ashes with both hands right now! You need to get on your knees and grovel to calm the spirit's anger. Don't bring misfortune on innocent people nearby." I sneered. "When did hospitals start believing in superstition? If I really dumped ashes, then yeah, I'd be wrong. But take a closer look. Are these even ashes?"

A familiar voice booms close by. Arthur gives my hand a squeeze and opens his door, stepping out to greet his dad who had been oblivious to our arrival. Craning my neck to see out of the back window I see Alpha Luther shaking Arthur’s hand and slapping his back in a manly hug. He is just as I remember him, tall, broad and bearded, like an older version of his son. Except right now he is only wearing shorts and is splattered with blood and dirt. “Rogues keep testing the west boundary... looking for someone...” fragments of the conversation have me intrigued.