Jones Retford

### Alias(es)

Old Bastard (Formerly by other Saints members)Private First Class Retford (Formerly by his comrades in the Army)

### Affiliation(s)

7th Cavarly of the United States Army (formerly)

## The Beginning

In the sprawling tapestry of Jones Retford's life, woven with the threads of his experiences and emotions, each moment carried its own significance, ultimately shaping the man he would become. Born on July 18th in the year 1847, London, England bore witness to his entry into the world on a warm summer night. From the very start, there was an air of grace surrounding his arrival, an aura that would later become an intrinsic part of his character. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon took its place in the sky, Jones's life began to unfold within the confines of a household inhabited by his parents, Victoria and William Retford. A tender soul by nature, his father, William, stood as a beacon of solace and kindness during the turbulent storms that occasionally swept over Jones's days. It was in his father's soothing words and gentle gestures that Jones found moments of respite from the chaos that often surrounded him. However, the shadows that loomed over their home were cast by none other than Jones's own mother, Victoria. A woman whose heart seemed to harbor a darkness that cast a pall over their lives. Within the walls of their home, Victoria's behavior went beyond the bounds of normalcy. Her actions transcended discipline and discipline gave way to cruelty. Her methods extended far beyond the realm of physical pain, delving into the realm of psychological torment. The emotional scars that marred Jones's spirit were a testament to the depth of her malevolence. Yet, what set Victoria apart was her chilling conviction—a conviction that she clung to with an unsettling determination. She harbored a belief that she would not hesitate to extinguish her own son's life if it meant extending her own existence. This macabre notion cast a pall over their household, shrouding it in a cloak of fear that permeated every corner. In the face of such darkness, Jones instinctively learned to keep a cautious distance, a stance borne of self-preservation, lest he draw the attention of his own mother's malevolent intentions. As Jones navigated the tumultuous waters of his upbringing, the specter of his mother's threats never faded from his mind. Each passing day was a tightrope walk, a dance between evading her wrath and finding moments of solace. Yet, through it all, there remained an indomitable spirit within Jones—a spirit that whispered of a future beyond the confines of his current reality. And so, as he matured and approached the age of 18, Jones began to seek refuge outside the walls of his home. The chaos of wars beckoned, promising an escape from the torments that had plagued him. This promise lead him to leaving the British Isles and to the United States, where he had enlisted into the Seventh Cavalry Regiment of the United States. In the distant echoes of gunfire and the camaraderie of fellow soldiers, he glimpsed a fleeting sense of freedom from the shadows that had held him captive for so long. It was in these moments of chaos that he found a temporary sanctuary, a respite from the clutches of his mother's malevolence. Yet, even as he walked away from home, the memory of his mother's threats remained etched into his consciousness—a chilling reminder of the darkness he had endured. It was a chapter he was determined to leave behind, as he ventured into the unknown territories that lay ahead, seeking a haven where the echoes of gunfire would be replaced by the gentle rhythms of life.

## Teenage Life

In the tapestry of Jones's life, woven with threads of challenge and growth, the chapters of his journey carried him through various seasons of transformation. As the years wove on, the boy who had weathered the storms of a tumultuous home environment matured into a young man seeking refuge from the shadows that had haunted his past. The battlefield became his temporary sanctuary—a realm where the cacophony of gunfire and the harsh reality of war offered a momentary reprieve from the scars of his upbringing. Amid the relentless crackling of musket fire and the thunderous roars of cannons, he discovered a different kind of tumult, one that granted him a sense of control and purpose. Among fellow soldiers, he forged bonds that transcended the boundaries of war. These connections, forged in the crucible of combat, became an anchor for Jones, grounding him in the midst of chaos. Amid the haze of gun smoke, he found friendships that echoed the camaraderie he had yearned for in his own family. But as the years passed and the echoes of battle faded, a yearning for equilibrium tugged at Jones's heart. The battlefront had served its purpose—a sanctuary that temporarily shielded him from his past. Now, he sought a new haven, one where the echoes of gunfire were replaced by the gentle rhythms of life. Guided by this yearning, Jones's footsteps led him beyond the realm of warfare and into the outskirts of Saint Denis—a bustling city that held whispers of serenity in its quieter corners. It was here that destiny awaited, poised to change the trajectory of his life. In the midst of this bustling city, Jones's path intersected with hers—an encounter that would alter the course of his journey. Eleanor, with her radiant smile and warm presence, became a beacon of light in the shadows that had clung to his soul. In her presence, he discovered a kind of peace that eluded him on the battlefield. The serendipity of their meeting felt like a thread woven by fate itself, drawing him toward the warmth and acceptance he had long craved. With Eleanor, he shared stories of his past, unraveling the layers of his pain in the safety of her embrace. She, in turn, offered a sanctuary of understanding and tenderness—a reminder that healing was possible even after enduring the harshest of storms. The simplicity of their connection—the conversations that stretched into the night, the laughter shared beneath the glow of a moonlit sky—created an intimate tapestry of their budding love. In Eleanor's company, Jones felt the tides of his heart begin to shift, aligning with the rhythm of a new chapter—one defined by the solace of companionship and the promise of a brighter future. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Jones's love for Eleanor deepened. Her presence became a refuge from the scars of his past, a safe harbor where he could finally lay down his burdens and embrace the potential for happiness. With each passing day, he found himself falling more deeply in love—a love that transcended the pain of his history and opened doors to new possibilities. With Eleanor, he began to envision a life built on the foundations of trust, empathy, and shared dreams. Their laughter and shared moments became the pillars of a connection that was unbreakable, reminding him that love could heal even the deepest wounds. In her arms, he discovered the resilience to transform his narrative, to rise above the darkness that had once threatened to consume him. And so, as the tapestry of their story continued to unfold, Jones and Eleanor set out on a new adventure—one that would weave their lives together in a harmonious tapestry of love, growth, and redemption.

## Adult Life

Amid the early chapters of his life, Jones's path intersected with that of Eleanor, a woman whose presence brought a radiant light into his world. As they embarked on the journey of love, their souls intertwined, and their hearts beat in harmonious rhythm. Together, they chose to establish a haven of serenity just beyond the bustling city of Saint Denis. With calloused hands and unwavering determination, Jones and Eleanor built their sanctuary from the ground up. The gentle hum of their shared efforts resonated through every corner of their humble farm. The rustic charm of their abode reflected the love that they poured into every detail. The gardens flourished under their care, the cozy dwelling embraced them with open arms, and the animals became cherished members of their growing family. Happiness was woven into the very fabric of their lives. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers mingled with the laughter of children, and the golden sunsets painted the sky with hues of warmth and contentment. Their days were spent in shared toil and shared joy, deepening the bonds that held their hearts together. Two years into their blissful union, a new chapter unfolded with the arrival of their daughter, Beth. The enchanting innocence of their firstborn brought a new level of tenderness to their lives. The gentle lullabies they sang and the whispered promises of protection became the symphony of their existence. Time danced forward, and two more years gifted them with another precious addition: Madeline. Their family circle was complete, a testament to their enduring love. Fatherhood enveloped Jones with a profound sense of purpose and fulfillment. The radiant smiles of his daughters illuminated his world, and their laughter was a melody that echoed in his heart. He reveled in the magic of bedtime stories and the gleeful escapades through fields of wildflowers. In the midst of their innocent joy, the shadows of his past seemed to recede, their influence waning as the light of love and fatherly devotion gained strength. One story and memory he'd always remember, In the warmth of a golden summer afternoon, Jones found himself immersed in a memory that would forever be etched in the tapestry of his heart. The air was alive with the fragrance of blooming flowers, and the fields stretched out before him like an endless sea of emerald. His daughters, Beth and Madeline, were his little rays of sunshine, their laughter carrying on the wind. On this particular day, the three of them had ventured out into the countryside, leaving behind the responsibilities of the farm to revel in the simple joys of togetherness. The vibrant wildflowers swayed in rhythm with their laughter as they played a game of tag, the radiant sun painting their hair with hues of gold. "Come catch me, Papa!" Beth's joyful voice rang out, her eyes sparkling with the pure delight that only childhood could bring. She dashed ahead, her small feet barely touching the earth as she darted between the flowers. Laughing heartily, Jones chased after his spirited daughter, his own heart light with the thrill of the moment. Madeline followed suit, her giggles like a melody in the warm breeze. He marveled at the way their eyes shone with innocence and the sheer joy of being alive. As they tumbled onto a soft patch of grass, breathless and beaming, Jones found himself enveloped in a sea of tiny arms and infectious giggles. They clung to him, their small hands finding refuge in his embrace. In that precious moment, he realized that the bond they shared was unbreakable, a sanctuary of love and trust that no darkness could penetrate. "Tell us a story, Papa!" Madeline exclaimed, her eyes wide with anticipation. Jones smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked into the eager faces of his daughters. He settled back against the grass, the fragrant earth cradling him, and began to spin a tale. His voice wove a tapestry of adventure and magic, painting vivid landscapes with his words. Beth and Madeline listened with rapt attention, their imaginations taking flight with every twist and turn. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow across the land, Jones's story came to an end. His daughters sighed contentedly, their hearts filled with the wonder of the tale he had woven. They nestled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around them, his heart swelling with a profound sense of gratitude. "Promise me, Papa, that we'll always have stories like this," Beth whispered, her voice a soft melody in the tranquil evening. Jones pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his eyes glistening with emotion. "I promise, my loves. We'll have countless stories, and countless moments like this." In that serene moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky with shades of pink and gold, Jones knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. The laughter of his daughters, the warmth of their love, and the memories they were creating together were treasures that no hardship could ever steal away. As the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jones held his daughters close, their hearts entwined in a symphony of love, laughter, and the magic of that unforgettable summer afternoon.

## The Start of Terror

One fateful day, while walking out of a bustling market, Jones caught a stranger's unsettling gaze fixed on his wife, Eleanor. The uneasy feeling that crawled up his spine remained unshaken as the stranger turned away, leaving an unsettling impression. Time passed, and Jones's apprehension grew stronger. He felt as though he was being watched, a sensation that plagued him throughout the day. It was near the docks of Saint Denis that his unease peaked. While laboring to load ships with cargo, he was approached by a stranger named Andrés Evans. There was something familiar about him, a connection that Jones couldn't quite place. Andrés offered assistance, working alongside him with a seemingly helpful disposition. As they toiled together, Jones's boss unexpectedly granted him a raise. But as he turned to express his gratitude, he was met with the sight of Andrés and two other men staring at him with an eerie intensity. Their eyes seemed almost demonic, and the man who had aided him wore a malevolent grin. A chilling shiver ran down Jones's spine as he accepted the money and quickly departed.

## "Not everyone can have a happy ending."

In the hush of night, as darkness swathed the land, Jones jolted awake, his heart pounding like a drum against his ribcage. A thick, acrid scent filled the air, and a distant orange glow danced on the walls. Reality crashed in, shattering his dreams like fragile glass. Flames crackled and roared, devouring his home in a voracious embrace. Panic seized him, every muscle screaming for action, yet he felt trapped within a world of terror. His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, struggling to grasp the scope of the catastrophe. In a frenzy, he fought to rise, coughing on smoke-laden air. His gaze fell upon Eleanor, her body consumed by flames, the sight burning into his mind with an intensity that matched the inferno before him. A guttural scream tore from his throat, a primal anguish that echoed in the night. Driven by desperate determination, he crawled, disoriented, through the fiery labyrinth, his eyes blurred by tears, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The ceiling crashed, throwing sparks and debris upon him, sealing the passage to his daughters. He begged their names to the heavens, his voice a plea carried away by the cruel wind. Outside, he stumbled down the steps, each step a descent into the abyss. Through tear-soaked eyes, he looked upward and saw her—an enigmatic figure standing in the midst of the chaos. Illuminated by the moon's ethereal glow, she seemed to radiate a celestial aura. A gasp of disbelief caught in his throat, and he clung to the belief that he was witnessing a divine intervention. In his despair, he believed this luminous presence to be God herself, a harbinger of salvation. As he fell to his knees, tears and ash mingling on his cheeks, he raised his hands in prayer. "Oh, merciful savior," he whispered hoarsely, voice quivering with reverence. "You've come to save me from this fiery hell. My soul is yours, my life yours to command." As if hearing his silent plea, the woman descended, her form eclipsing the moonlight. She knelt beside him, her touch surprisingly warm against his trembling skin. "Rise, my child," she spoke, her voice a soothing balm, as if weaving a spell of comfort around him. "You are safe now." Jones, both bewildered and humbled, struggled to his feet with her assistance. His eyes remained locked on her, a mix of awe and gratitude glimmering in their depths. She was the embodiment of grace, a presence that transcended the mundane world. In his haze of shock and reverence, he struggled to find words. "Who... who are you?" he stammered, his voice cracking like dry leaves. "Have you come from the heavens, sent by God himself?" The woman offered a gentle smile, her eyes soft yet resolute. "I am no deity, my dear Jones," she replied, her voice a symphony of calm authority. "But I am here to offer you a chance, a new path amidst the ashes. Call me Saint." The name resonated within him, wrapping around his consciousness like a shroud of destiny. He felt a pull, a recognition that stretched beyond mere words. He looked up at her, his gratitude evident in every fiber of his being. "Saint," he repeated, as if committing her name to his heart. "You've saved me, given me another chance. What can I do? How can I repay you?" Her gaze held both kindness and resolve, as if seeing the potential within him that he himself had yet to comprehend. "You can repay me by finding purpose in your second chance," she said, her tone unwavering. "By joining me, becoming part of something greater. Welcome, Jones, to The Saints." In that moment, the weight of his past, the horrors of his home, and the flames that had sought to consume him seemed to dissolve. He saw only her, this enigmatic woman who had saved him. And in her presence, he felt a new dawn breaking, a chance to rise from the ashes and forge a path of his own. With gratitude flooding his heart, he whispered a silent prayer, not to an ethereal deity, but to the living embodiment of grace before him. As the weight of exhaustion and shock took hold, Jones' vision blurred, and he succumbed to unconsciousness once again.

## The Saints

In the following hours, the inferno that had ravaged his life was extinguished by the relentless efforts of the fire brigade and the community. As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow across the charred remains of his home, Jones stirred. Awareness returned in fragments, his senses gradually reawakening to the world around him. The memory of the previous night surged forth like a tide, and he jolted upright, a gasp escaping his lips. He was no longer amidst the flames, his body scorched by the heat. Instead, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, draped in the same black and gold attire he had seen the woman—Saint—wear. The room exuded an air of authority, its furnishings a blend of opulence and functionality. The walls were adorned with symbols that were foreign to him, yet held a sense of significance. He tried to steady his racing heart, his mind still grappling with the reality of his situation. Had it all been a dream, a fevered hallucination born from the chaos of that night? And then the door swung open, and there she stood—Saint, the woman who had pulled him from the flames. Her presence was a balm to his disoriented mind, her very existence grounding him in this new reality. She was dressed in the same black and gold, her eyes a tapestry of emotion as she regarded him. "You're awake," she said, her voice a soothing river of calm. "How do you feel?" Jones managed to find his voice, though it trembled as he spoke. "I... I'm alive. But I don't understand. How did I get here?" A soft smile graced Saint's lips, a gesture of understanding and empathy. She walked over to him, her footsteps measured and deliberate. "You were on the brink of collapse when I found you outside your burning home," she explained. "You were in shock, and I brought you here to rest." The realization that she had cradled him in her arms, that he had been vulnerable in her presence, caused a flush of embarrassment to creep up his neck. But her words and demeanor reassured him, putting him at ease even in this unfamiliar space. "You... you saved me," he murmured, his gaze locked with hers. Saint's eyes held a mixture of warmth and determination. "I couldn't let you perish in those flames," she said, her voice a gentle affirmation. "You have a strength within you, Jones, a strength that deserves a chance to flourish." His heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. "Who are you, Saint? What do you want from me?" She chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. " I am Saint, the leader of these people," she replied as she swung her arm and finger towards the window, where Jones got up and walked to, witnessing tons of workers and people below doing jobs galore. "As for what I want from you, that's a question only time will answer." He nodded, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and questions. "And The Saints? What is it you do?" Jones said as he turned around facing Saint. Saint's gaze held a spark of purpose, a glimpse into a world he had yet to fully understand. "We are a family, Jones," she said, her voice resonating with pride. "A family that protects, that empowers, that seeks to bring balance to the chaos. I believe you have a role to play in this family, if you're willing." His heart pounded in his chest, uncertainty mingling with newfound hope. Saint's words were both enigmatic and compelling, promising a purpose he had never dared to imagine. In her presence, he felt a kinship, a connection that transcended his past and led him toward an uncertain yet enticing future. As he met her gaze, a silent understanding passed between them. He nodded, the weight of his decision resting heavy on his shoulders. "I'm willing," he said, his voice clear and resolute. "I want to be a part of this family." Saint's smile widened, a beacon of reassurance and camaraderie. "Welcome to The Saints, Jones." And in that moment, as the sun cast its warm embrace over the city of Saint Denis, Jones Retford embarked on a new chapter of his life. Guided by Saint, he had been pulled from the depths of despair and thrust into a world of mystery, purpose, and belonging. The flames that had once threatened to consume him had given birth to a rebirth, an opportunity to rise and become something more—a Saint in his own right.

## Ruthless

In Ruthless, Jones alongside with The Saints strives to find out his past and what truthfully happened to him, many many years ago and why Saint.. was.. there at such a weird time.