White like Snow | Destiny X RWBY

Shed Your Layers

* * * * *

1

At around 500 to 600 feet per second most don't have the time to move or recognize the fact that a new hole appeared on their body. But bullets are simple, people aren't. That's why I admire them. People are ok sometimes as well, I guess.

The bullet doesn't complain, it does its job. It's a killer with no qualms or morals. I have seen many a killer in my life. You could call me one if you wanted. I would be inclined to agree... but there's a problem. I'm not a bullet...

Try as I may, I can't simply let go of my humanity... I would only be proving them right.

Without my humanity I would be a robot. Hollow, empty, void of meaning or thought beyond the linear code of murder. And oh, how I despised being depicted as a soulless automaton.

When I returned to Earth, I was not greeted with warm smiles. No, instead I was shunned, exiled for a 'deformity'.

See, bullets don't have cybernetic eyes or technological diseases plaguing their systems. Bullets may veer off course, but they always succeed in striking something, anything really. If you shoot a clip into the ground, then you have successfully killed. If you have buried a .45 into someone's skull... then you have killed. One is just more evident than the other.

Most make the argument that violence of this nature is frowned upon. However, who's eviler? The bullet with no morals, no personality, and no humanity? Or the one behind the trigger? The man, woman, or child. The robot or animalistic killer? The one who can make the decision...

I find myself pondering these troubling thoughts more since I landed on this island. Of course, I've skimmed these topics before, but that was when crime payed and money was the only motivator. What now? Well, as odd as it sounds coming from my own head, I have people to look out for. Friends, at some point maybe even a family.

I longed for that. The closeness and trust that seemed to always be so far out of reach. I'm tired of constantly checking my back; every corner possibly hiding another lurking creature. Such as the unknowing prowler in front of me. It is simply grazing, doing what its instincts tell it to do.

I've been in this treetop watching creatures go by. I haven't fired a single shot. All I could do was stare, and I'm far from a pacifist... It's just... something is wrong, and I'm not talking about the fact that I'm in a different dimension. I have enough problems in front of me already.

I couldn't bring myself to take their lives. I'm not a bullet, I have emotions, I know I do. My comrades of late would mock me for hesitating to end an animal's life. I would mock me too. It's not this sense of self-renewal or reinvigoration. I feel the same... yet I don't.

I need to stop. Eretria always said I would kill myself thinking like I do... I hope she's okay. Last I saw, her jet was flying past the mountain range in flames.

"Bloody hell" I growled to myself quietly and refocused my eye through the scope of my rifle.

The boar like creature was still munching on a patch of grass, not even acknowledging my existence. I shifted my shoulders to more comfortably shape the stock into my arm. I took a deep breath as I lined the dot reticle up with the creature's head.

I flexed my trigger finger. I cracked my neck. I moved my legs on the large branch.

I'm stalling again.