[Summer – Sureal]

Jennings jumped out of bed while Isaac seemed utterly baffled on what his next course of action would be. “Wait here! If I freeze the door, that means get tha' fuck outta' here!” Jennings yelled to his half-brother before bolting out, slamming it shut behind him with trembling force. Isaac dreaded the door and raised his blanket over his head.

From upstairs, Jennings saw a gruesome sight. Near the midway portion of the stairs stood Penny, whimpering frantically at the vision they now shared. The red-ish hue from the morning sky seeped through any possible crack to the outdoors, giving an eerie glisten of illumination to the fresh dead bodies that lie beneath them. It seemed like a young man in his twenties had been slain alongside the couple that ran the bed and breakfast. The youngster and the owner’s wife lay face-down in a pool of their own blood front-and-center on the first floor.

Looking to the other side of the room, there laid the elderly gentleman's corpse. He sat slumped in his welcoming seat. An observable note left from his attackers was nailed to his stiff chest that read, “Meet at the Westbound Bar and Grub at noon if you want to discuss this like men.”

Jennings walked closer to investigate the scene further, remaining on guard in case the murderers were still nearby. He looked back to find Penny racing up the stairs back to the room completely distraught. Redirecting his focus, Jennings picked out the note left and turned it around to check if anything else was written on the back. There was no more information, although his imagination didn't have to run very wild, as he felt he knew who had caused this tragedy.

Back in the formerly rented room, Penny and Isaac sit at the edge of the bed, brainstorming while the D.o.M. strived to sort the mess underneath. The door crept open to spook them further, however it was simply Jennings returning from the chain of questioning, it seemed these officers didn’t recognize him.

“Didn't mean to fright ya' more,” he said in a casual tone.

“We're - we're not safe are we?” Penny let the stinging realization of words roll off her bottom lip to the floor, but they were honestly directed to Jennings. She was hoping that at least he could say something to bring back the bravery that she felt so recently.

“We never were,” retorted Jennings.

Penny looked even more concerned and disheartened than before.

“We know who did this,” continued Jennings to his followers. “If he wants to shit on his own future. Then let's give him what he wants.”

“Wait… you can't mean?” asked Isaac.

“That's right. We're going to that meeting,” reassured Jennings.

“He's going to kill us!” barked back Penny. “I mean -” she second guessed her terminology.

“You’re wrong ma’am. If he wanted us dead, we would've been confronted here while we were resting. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm going to end this if I got the grit.”

Jennings finished his sentiment while subconsciously reaching for his gun at his side, hands emitting a blue glow. He was still under control, but that hardly eased Isaac and Penny’s nerves.

[Noon, later that Sun]

Jennings and company reach the Westbound Bar and Grub and dismount off of Poni sequentially. As he strapped Poni to the post outside the establishment, Penny couldn’t shake the anxiety coursing through her skin as if it squirmed beneath it. Raising her head, she gandered at Jennings, who looked calmer than ever. She wondered what kind of internal strength could lead to someone showing such an apathetic gaze while confronting a humongous ordeal like the one they were facing. Had she gotten in over her head? Yes, that was evident, but then why was she entering the establishment where she could meet her demise so easily. It must’ve been hope that propelled her to take such a stupid, necessary risk as a long-term investment.

They paced slower, up and to the bar's creaky, wooden doors; together they accidentally thrust them aside hard enough for a slam to resonate within the walls. Inside at the only table populated reciprocated their appearance with a gawking silence. They see the face of the man they came to see, surrounded by several guards dressed in ruffled attire. The reflection of his swank rings permeated through the establishment, glaring into both their eyes from across the area.

Isiah gestured the group over to his table. “You made it, I'll take it, you got my message?” he shot the words like a spy with a sly, coltish grin. “Sit, sit,” he instructed. A thick pointer finger unraveled from a clenched fist-full of a bite, pointing toward an open section of seating.

Jennings, Isaac and Penny pulled out their respective chairs and took a seat. J.J. made his first statement and didn't skip beside the point. “So Isiah, what do you really want from us?”

“Believe it or not John Jennings, I didn't set up this lil' get-togetha' for me to talk to you. I actually don't give a flying hornets fuck about ya'. Never have. I want to talk to my true son,” said Isiah. The most flexible owl would’ve been envious of the way Isiah was able to fixate his neck in a position to stare through Isaac from across the plane of the table between both groups

While that occurred, Penny was doing her best to maintain a semblance of control, yet her mind also became selective in that instant, noticing the name, “John Jennings” being mentioned. That must be J.J., she hadn’t known. It’s not that it was uncommon for folks, let alone those one the run, to use a pseudonym. However, there it was, stuck on her mind at this peculiar moment.

Isaac's eyes widened as he processed what he had just heard and also the accompanying gaze.

“I'm here today to rescue you son, from this filthy piece-of-shit that likes to be called my offspring. I can protect you from him. He's known to be dangerous for a reason. Them wanted posters- that ring out, ‘Dead or alive’, they don’t do that kind of shit for the nice gents of our time. Think about it.”

Jennings studied Isiah’s limited, yet indomitable body language, trying to grasp a read on his father's intentions.

“I'd never risk Isaac-” responded Jennings.

“Oh! Like you never have before,” Isiah spoke with a brute underlying tone. “I am your father Isaac. We share a name and a future. I'm a businessman, but...I would give up any-god-damned-thing to make sure nothing happens to you and also, to make sure no one hurts you!” Isiah emphasized his last point home to properly highlight his overbearing nature.

“You...sneaky bastard…,” muttered Jennings atop his interwoven arms, before turning his head to see Isaac in deep thought. “I-saac…,” escaped from Jennings' lips.

He re-focused his conversation to Isiah. “What's stopping me from hopping over this here table and ending everything at this instant? I know you’ve planned everything out, so spill it.”

“You have quite the obstacle preventing that John, but I knew someone of your caliber would ask.” replied Isiah, quite relaxed. “You see the vice sheriff happens to be a close friend of mine and I did remember to relay some information of today's meeting to him personally.” A smile broke through into the discussion. “Of course he doesn't know about your presence Jennings, only Isaac would have to suffer from what’s called the ‘Western Halfland’ style of justice.”

Jennings rested his still-trembling hand at his side. Out of his peripheral, Isaac began to speak, and it caused him to hesitate, and listen intently.

“You’re right...father,” said Isaac.

Jennings and Penny glared at Isaac as he proclaimed his decision. Isiah revealed the pleasure that filled his body.

“My true son!” yelped Isiah, sporting the biggest smile he had worn, whether forced or genuine.

“It's for the best,” stated Isaac. “It's...the only way.”

“Then our affair here is finished, right boys?” added Isiah. “We shall leave immediately, grab your little things Isaac.”

The three guards accompanying Isiah walk toward Isaac and imply for him to raise out of his seat. Isaac slowly left out the door while Jennings and Penny sat at the table experiencing the astonishment enveloping the room. His expression as he looked back to his former group was as if he needed to add parting words, however his unknown words couldn't break free from their internal confinement. The door to the Westbound Bar And Grub closed shut and Jennings hunched over the table stunned. He was so close, yet his father had once again taken things to the same unnatural level, and only Jennings had the necessary motivation and ability to fully terminate his stranglehold of power.