Colm O'Driscoll

"Happy cooperation, Mr. Matthews."

The middle-aged man in glasses and a suit extended his hand to shake Hosea's hand.

This fellow was from the railway department of a subsidiary company of the Morgan Group.

The main content of this cooperation was guidance for railway construction.

Mr. Van der Linde decided to comprehensively build railways in New Hanover, Lemoyne, Elizabeth, and New Austin.

To get rich, build roads first. The current number of railways in the American West is too small to support urban construction, development, and prosperity.

So, Dutch decided to establish his own railway company, poaching people from the Morgan Group to teach and help his own people build railways and form a company.

And this matter was still facilitated by Miss Camille and handled by Hosea.

Just as the people from the Morgan Group were sent away, the office door was knocked on again.

That's right, an office. Hosea now had his own office, and it was in the Saint Denis City Government.

Not only did he have an office there, but Arthur did too, Dutch did too, Davey did too, John did too, Mary-Beth did too, and even the dark-skinned Charles did too!

Damn it, this was an unimaginable feeling.

Who could imagine the legendary rat Mac wearing a suit and sitting in an office approving documents?

It's a good thing he died early, otherwise, such a scene might actually have occurred.

"Mr. Matthews, Mr. Van der Linde has sent a document regarding personnel appointments for you to review."

A secretary entered from outside the door and placed the document on the table in front of Hosea.

Personnel appointments, this was a plan Dutch had proposed before.

At this stage, all aspects of the American West were extremely incomplete, not only local administrators but also tax departments, safety inspection departments, fire alarm systems, emergency systems, regulatory systems, and so on.

The lack of various departments meant loopholes in laws and supervision, which could not be delayed. At this stage, everyone was still immersed in gratitude and unable to extricate themselves, and not many people had malicious intentions. Once more people developed malicious intentions, it would be very difficult to manage.

Therefore, standardized management was of utmost importance.

What is the best management model?

It is to ensure that those below have limited power, only managing what they can. This is the best approach.

This ensures that no single person's power is too great or too widespread. Even if that person changes their mind, they can only cause trouble within the areas they control, with minimal impact on the overall system.

Therefore, the sheriff system in the West, for example, must clearly be abolished.

To prevent those in management from abusing their authority, Dutch has fragmented almost all power into various small shares, ensuring no individual holds excessive power. Simultaneously, he has drastically reduced intermediate management layers, severing potential concentrations of power.

For example.

Dutch established the Valentine Street Office, hiring ten people whose sole responsibility is registering newborns for Valentine residents. Obtaining a residence permit, however, requires going to the Valentine Household Registration Office. And to pick up the residence permit, one must go to the Valentine Residence Permit Distribution Center. This creates a process where one matter requires multiple steps.

This process has significant drawbacks, such as potential buck-passing if service attitudes are poor, complex and lengthy procedures, and even modern-day scenarios where one document requires another document to be processed first.

However, this method will undoubtedly reduce the concentration of power that leads to local tyrants. Furthermore, these individuals will be appointed through elections to further diminish their status.

Moreover, Dutch does not establish any so-called senior leaders internally to oversee everything. All registered information is transported to the Saint Denis Government, where those responsible for managing these things handle them in a similarly decentralized manner. This ensures that leaders with significant power in Valentine are not actually located in Valentine. Additionally, officials at all levels can be replaced at any time, preventing them from harboring excessive ambitions.

For the public, this process might seem very complicated, but at least it prevents a situation where a few people from a village committee can control an entire village.

There's no way around it; no system is perfect, and human desires are uncontrollable. The only option is to adopt this extremely decentralized approach to lessen societal oppression.

Hosea picked up the document on the table and began to read it.

In reality, he didn't understand much of the content. All the major decisions and directions were controlled by Dutch; he merely signed and supervised.

So, Hosea immediately stamped it, indicating his approval.

No sooner had Hosea had someone take the document away than another person requesting an audience arrived...

The sixty-year-old veteran was tirelessly busy, constantly fighting.

Meanwhile, Mr. Colm, the Black Lung, was also at the stage in his life where he most needed redemption.

Jon City, under the bridge of Jon City Artificial Lake.

"Cough, cough, cough… cough, cough, cough…"

Violent coughing echoed from beneath the filthy bridge. The coughing sounded heart-wrenching, as if the person coughing was about to cough out their lungs.

"Cough, cough, cough... Hmph... Hmm... Cough, cough... Cough, cough, cough, cough…"

Filthy bedding was laid out at the innermost part of the bridge, with a dark figure lying on it, his body constantly trembling with violent coughs.

Heavy dark shadows continually appeared before his eyes, accompanied by the increasing and deepening burning pain in his lungs, so much so that even his consciousness was constantly spinning.

Mr. Colm, his face already unshaven and disheveled, with salt-and-pepper beard and hair, no longer resembled his former gentlemanly and avant-garde self. He now looked exactly like a one-legged, smelly beggar.

He was even too ill to stand up from the bedding.

As the dark shadows intensified, the dizziness caused Mr. Colm to pass out. His breathing was shallow and rapid, each inhale and exhale sounding like a hoarse violin.

"Ah… exhale… Ah… exhale…"

If not for his breathing sounds and his rising and falling chest, people would have thought he had died there.

And at this moment, in Mr. Colm's unconsciousness, his personal consciousness was experiencing a bizarre dream.

"Colm… you scumbag…"

"Ahhh… please let me go…"

"Murderer, damn desperado…"

Echoing shouts rang in Mr. Colm's ears, making his brows furrow even in his unconscious state.

These voices were familiar to him; they were the voices of those he had harmed.

However, Mr. Colm didn't care; he only found them noisy. His consciousness raced wildly, wanting to escape this boring dream.

Yet, the next moment, a voice he knew intimately rang out.

"Your ideas sicken me, Colm, I disdain to do that…"

"Fuck! You killed Annabelle! I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you!"

"Your brother has been killed by me, Colm, next it's you…"

Colm, lying on the bedding, let out a painful groan.

"Ahhh~~ Dutch! I… will… kill… Dutch."

He even unconsciously spoke of killing Dutch.

However, with a jolt to his mind, the scene in his consciousness changed again.

The bloodstains on the ground stung Mr. Colm's memory, and the familiar figure of the man lying in the blood made Mr. Colm tremble all over, even in his unconsciousness, filled with agitation.

This was the scene when he saw his brother killed by Dutch.

The scene shifted again, turning into a pitch-black night.

Dazzling firelight, accompanied by the sound of a Maxim machine gun, rang in Mr. Colm's ears, and then a severed leg was picked up by Dutch in the scene.

"Oh, look what I found, Colm's leg, fellas!"

The unconscious Mr. Colm's brows furrowed even deeper, and his head was constantly shaking back and forth, seemingly unable to endure such a humiliating scene, showing signs of waking up.

However, the scene in his mind shifted again. This time, he appeared in the middle of a road.

There were no human traces on the entire road.

Colm felt lost inside. He helplessly ran through the streets, trying to find traces of people.

This dead silent city filled him with deep, boundless fear.

After turning countless street corners, finally, a wolf appeared on the street in front of him.

Colm's nerves were stretched to the limit.

The wolf stopped in the middle of the road, suddenly turned its head to look at Mr. Colm, and astonishingly, it had Dutch's face!

"Useless, Colm, you are useless!"

At this moment, a fox ran over, and when it turned its head, it astonishingly had Arthur's face.

"Black Lung, Colm, hahahaha…"

Another deer ran over, and when it turned its head, it was astonishingly Hosea's face.

"Idiot, Colm, I told you before you were an idiot!"

Immediately after, an eagle flew over and stopped in mid-air. In its talons, it held something resembling a branch. When it turned its head, it astonishingly had John's face.

"Do you still want it? If not, I'll take it."

Colm looked at the eagle's talons, and astonishingly, it was holding a familiar large leg!

"Cough, cough, cough… cough, cough, cough… Dutch, fuck you, Dutch… cough, cough… ha…"

Colm, lying on the bedding, opened his eyes from his unconscious state. He gasped for air, coughing and cursing Dutch Van der Linde at the same time.

Mr. Colm lay on the ground, his breath faint, his thoughts drifting back a month.

---

"Mr. Colm, Mr. Colm, we don't have enough food, the brothers are all in chaos now!"

The door was pushed open by Binny, who walked in flustered and exclaimed to Mr. Colm, who was sitting on a stool.

In fact, he didn't even need to say it; the sounds from outside the room had already seeped through the fragile wooden boards.

"F*ck! We've been exiled all the way from Blackwater to here, with no food, no drink, let alone any women! To be an outlaw to this extent is simply shameful! I don't think this Mr. Colm deserves to be our boss!"

"Yeah, I haven't really eaten for three days. Damn it, we might as well go down the mountain and surrender to Dutch Van der Linde to work for him!"

"No, let's go. This idiotic Mr. Colm is black-hearted and black-lunged. He only knows how to fill his own stomach and doesn't care about his brothers' difficulties. Damn him, he should have coughed himself to death long ago!"

The sounds outside and Binny's panicked words filled Mr. Colm with rage. He suddenly stood up from the stool, intending to rush out and beat those who were speaking nonsense to death.

However, as soon as he stood up, the burning pain in his lungs made him cough uncontrollably.

"Cough cough… cough cough cough…"

The violent coughing made it difficult for him to breathe, and his riddled body simply couldn't withstand the intense gasping.

Streaks of blackness diffused before his eyes, finally.

Mr. Colm's recently straightened body suddenly fell backward.

With a soft "thud!", Binny in the room let out a cry.

"Mr. Colm, Mr. Colm!"

The commotion inside the room made the outlaws outside feel a pang in their hearts, and then one by one they gathered, peeking into the cabin through various cracks in the wooden walls.

And with that glance, they saw the unconscious Mr. Colm in the wooden cabin.

"Damn it, Mr. Colm is dead! Black-lunged Mr. Colm is dead! Brothers, let's go down the mountain!"

Someone shouted, and the oppressive presence of Mr. Colm, the terrifying gunslinger who had always loomed over them, was completely swept away.

The group erupted into a full-blown riot.

Countless people rushed into the wooden cabin to ransack for valuables, and everything in the camp was plundered. Then, they gathered and ran down the mountain.

By the time Mr. Colm woke up again, he was under this bridge, with only Binny's sorrowful face remaining before him.

"Boss, you're finally awake! Our gang has disbanded!"

Mr. Colm lay on the dirty bedding, breathing faintly, unable to utter a single word.

"Ah… exhale… Ah… exhale…"

Seeing him so sickly and weak, tears welled up in Binny's eyes. He turned his head sharply and said, "Boss, our gang is finished! I haven't eaten for three days either!

Boss, I'm leaving. I'm going to work for Mr. Van der Linde. Only by following him can I afford to eat. As for you, Boss, our grievances are settled! Take care of yourself!"

With that, Binny gradually walked away under Mr. Colm's despairing gaze.

And Mr. Colm lay under the bridge for a day and a night, until now.

And now.

"Cough cough…"

Mr. Colm struggled for over ten minutes to get up from his bedding. Then, holding onto a bridge pier with one hand, he laboriously limped outwards on one leg.

He was going to end his life, but definitely not by starvation, nor by dying of illness lying here.

He, Mr. Colm, had never bowed his head in his life, especially not to Dutch Van der Linde, his lifelong enemy!

He would use his remaining strength to attack Dutch Van der Linde, to put a perfect end to his life!

Mr. Colm's thinking was quite extreme, which was related to his illness.

In the game, Arthur's thoughts, after falling ill, unconsciously began to shift towards weakness and softness, like Mr. Downs, he began to crave his own redemption. This was the meaning of Mr. Downs's appearance.

This was a double irony from Rockstar, using Mr. Downs, who sought to go to heaven without caring for his wife and children, as a template to highlight Arthur's final transformation: also seeking inner peace and ultimate redemption for himself.

But in reality, his actions were no different from Mr. Downs. He killed so many people, caused so many incidents, yet his heart kept comforting himself that he had found redemption. Did he actually find it?

The people Mr. Downs helped through charity found it, and John, whom Arthur redeemed, found it, but Mrs. Downs and young Mr. Downs did not, nor did the police and Agents Arthur killed.

Isn't this also a form of extreme thinking?

And Mr. Colm's thinking also gradually became extreme after he learned that he had a fatal illness.

He was too concerned with his reputation; like Dutch Van der Linde, he was a person who could go mad for his own face!

Until now, the redemption he yearned for was to avenge himself, and after killing Dutch Van der Linde, to end his life as an outlaw!

To achieve the most glorious curtain call!

"Dutch Van der Linde, hehehe, didn't expect it, did you? It's still me, your old friend, here to send you off on your last journey!"

Mr. Colm, like a madman, pulled out his revolver and hopped on one leg from under the bridge onto the main road. He was going to use his last breath to row back to Saint Denis and then shoot Dutch Van der Linde in the street!

"Dutch Van der Linde, do you remember me? Old friend, I've never forgotten you…"

Just as Mr. Colm's thought arose, he felt an unusually strong push from behind.

"Excuse me, excuse me, Mr. Van der Linde and Mr. Matthews are about to pass, you're blocking the way, sir."

Actually, the push wasn't that strong; it was just that Mr. Colm was too weak, making him feel the push was very strong.

The push acted on Mr. Colm's back, making him unable to stand steadily, and he directly fell face forward onto the ground.

"Bang!"

Mr. Colm fell towards the road, and a luxurious carriage, used to clear the way, was rapidly approaching.

"Damn it, he actually tried to collide with Mr. Van der Linde's carriage!"

The man who had just pushed Mr. Colm down was greatly alarmed when he saw the luxurious carriage approaching in the distance. He quickly reached out and grabbed Mr. Colm's only remaining leg, then pulled him back.

Immediately after, came the punches and kicks.

"Beat him to death! Kill this beast! Damn it, he wants me to lose my job! F*ck!"

Punches and kicks rained down like a storm. Mr. Colm, whose lungs were aching and whose body was powerless, hadn't recovered from his fall when he was hit by fists and feet.

How could his dying body withstand such a beating?

He immediately let out a gasp, startled and angry, anxious and agitated, and coughed from sheer fury.

Damn it, when had he ever suffered such indignity? Just because he nearly collided with Dutch Van der Linde's carriage, he was subjected to a barrage of punches and kicks?

When had he, Mr. Colm, ever endured such humiliation?

"Cough cough… cough cough cough…"

After being beaten, Mr. Colm was thrown into a nearby alley, like trash, no longer cared for by anyone.

He lay in the alley, his breath faint, his eyes utterly dim, with no strength left to stand up.

"Van der Linde!"

"Van der Linde!"

"Van der Linde!"

The street was crowded with people, and with the arrival of the carriage, enthusiastic cheers erupted from the crowd.

Under the gaze of thousands, the luxurious carriage slowly moved along the street, receiving the blessings of the crowd.

A single crystalline tear rolled down the corner of Mr. Colm's eye as he lay like a dead dog in the alley. Through a gap in the crowd, he saw the passing luxurious carriage and Dutch Van der Linde, looking resplendent, inside it.

Then, the humiliation brought by his downfall and misery, along with Mr. Colm's last breath, slowly dissipated into this world.

Only a gradually chilling, one-legged corpse remained in the alley.