URSUS, XXXX
Opening the front door, I glanced down at the snow that had built up, two sets of footprints giving me a clear lead as to where Ladislava and her mother possibly went. It was clear that they expected me to still be asleep since the tracks would have already been snowed over by early morning.
It seems that the two went towards the village, but for what reason, I do not know.
When I got to the village's outskirts, I stayed close to the sides of the buildings to keep myself hidden and to use the dark walls as a dark backdrop so I didn't stand out too much. This is not only inconspicuous, but it also keeps me from being too visible.
Either way, the only thing that will give me away is the light from the moons that shine overhead.
After a while, the footprints faded as another layer of snow, which seemed to never end, covered them. I've never tracked through the snow before, so fuck. I'm currently looking around to see if there are any other signs that Ladislava and her mother may have left, but I'm completely stumped at the lack thereof.
A sigh of frustration comes out of my mouth, although I try my best to keep it as quiet as possible. Looking down at my hands... my hands...
And that was when I remembered.
The certain itch that sat behind my eyes was the sight that allowed me to see beyond human limits. By instinct, my arms reach out, and my eyes close.
And when they opened, instead of the wooden huts of the village and the pure snow, I found myself in the middle of a frigid wasteland of monuments and darkness. The twin moons' shadow deepened tenfold, carving into the grey landscape around me.
And in the distance, in front of me, was a strange sight. A faint cluster of glowing white lights occasionally moved left and right. That's... What is that? I've only heard a few stories of other hunters managing to somehow train their Dark Sight to the point of seeing other things that they want to see—I don't ever remember trying to do that, though. I've always just stuck with a revolver.
Haah... I'll have to do some experimenting with Dark Sight later, but for now, my only lead is these strange highlights.
With that, my vision returned to normal with what little colour and light were present on this moonlit night. A lead, leading me onwards.
~⁕~
Eventually, I reached the other side of the village, the footprints leading towards a clearing in the middle of a circle of small buildings. In the middle, a new campfire was burning what might have been yesterday's firewood that I had previously chopped.
Around the fire were several hooded figures of various shapes and sizes; some towered over each other and others were of more average height. Looking closely, I could make out more strange features that didn't belong to humans. Most of these included horns and nothing else, but a few also had both horns and tails.
As I study the dark figures, two reveal a few objects that seemed to be wrapped in cloth. Shit. I wish I still had my old spyglass to see what the hell's even going on.
One of the two figures untied a string that held the cloth close to... my guns. The silhouettes that were my shotgun and pistol caused me to silently curse myself. I should have pushed Ladislava on the whereabouts of my guns, although the outcome of that was too foggy for me to ponder at the time.
A few words; surprisingly spoken in English, were exchanged between the now obvious two parties that seemed to be in a transaction concerning my guns and possibly some ammo. I watched intently as a particularly large, hulking figure gently took the guns and inspected them before handing them to a significantly smaller figure to its left. After a while, one of them speaks up.
"These seem to be of excellent quality, girl. What is your name?" The big figure, a man, judging by the deep voice he produced, chuckled as he marvelled at the apparent quality of my guns. Since he was the one interacting so much compared to the others, I think it would be safe to assume that he was the leader of this group.
"Erm, Ladislava, sir." The now-confirmed hooded Ladislava replied.
The huge man turned around, pulled out a sturdy-looking briefcase, unlocked it, and showed what I think is a lot of money to Ladislava and her mother.
Alright, that does it.
At first, I was angry and upset—I still am—but I'm also now confused.
For what reason do these people go to such lengths to sell my guns? A revolver isn't uncommon at all, and the shotgun is more of a sportsman's gun—although I wouldn't deny that there is no finer sport than hunting.
Anyway, this level of discreteness and the seemingly large amount of money involved are mind-boggling to me. I'm assuming the money isn't American, but a whole large briefcase full just seems very excessive.
Something isn't normal here—but then again, this... world certainly isn't mine; it's entirely plausible that some things are simply different.
As Ladislava's hands drew close to the offered briefcase, a sound interrupted them both. It was the smaller, cloaked figure that was handed the guns earlier. He seemed to have one of the revolver's cartridges held out, allowing the big man to see the casing closely. After a moment, the bullet was pulled out, black powder spilling onto the snow. Is there... something wrong?
...
Something is definitely wrong. I couldn't see any of their expressions here, but the silence is grating. It's almost like the ensuing silence that comes after spending so much time creeping up onto a compound only to carelessly step on a fallen branch.
"...Let me ask you: do your people think us naive, Ladislava?" The leader spoke, leaning forward toward Ladislava's comparably smaller frame.
"What...? No—" Ladislava makes an effort to respond, but the leader gets up and interrupts her.
"Enough. Even after the many times that this village has reigned in disappointing results, we have not done anything but continue to generously offer protection. But after a stunt such as this? No longer shall we continue to keep this operation afloat." With that, he stood up, throwing the cloak that concealed his identity into the snow.
The man had two dark horns that jutted out just above his temples, curving forward in such a way that a headbutt from him would be exceptionally painful. A strange and angular brass-like metal mask wrapped around the front of his face, but whether it was to keep his identity disguised or for protection, I had no way of knowing. Moving down, he donned a metallic armoured pauldron on his right shoulder—not entirely too bad for ramming people, but general protection is predominantly what it seemed to be for. He wore a sleeveless trenchcoat that had a big collar. A scarf or extra armour could have been wrapped around his neck. The rest of his outfit I couldn't make out due to the less-than-optimal lighting.
By his side was an incredibly large machete-like blade, almost as tall as I am and as wide as a dinner plate. That could be a problem later if I have to fight them.
"Go. Take everything valuable." The absolute demon ordered, lifting an arm and hand forward. At his orders, the rest of the hooded figures rushed outward towards the darkness of the nearby alleyways. A few rush past my hiding place, hurling snow into the air around me. Jesus, they were inhumanely fast...
On the other hand, Ladislava and her mother were obviously upset. Screaming at them all to stop as they advanced to plunder everything like a pack of hellhounds descending in the middle of the night on an unassuming 'white shirt'— Oh, shit!
Crying out, Ladislava fell onto her back, her body in the snow, and the massive sword from earlier was now embedded in her chest. Her mother, who seemed to know that the wound would kill her daughter, could do nothing but watch as her daughter slowly bled to death, her heart and lungs badly damaged. The snow around the two began melting from the heat of the pooling blood.
With a foot on one shoulder, the horned giant pulled the sword out of Ladislava's body with ease. On one hand, I want to feel some sort of emotion about her death, but not a single thing surfaces. On the other hand, this girl deceived me and took my guns away from me to sell them. Now, the shotgun would have been adequate; such inexpensive firearms were widely available. But my revolver—the very gun that assisted me through the hell that was damnation, through the warzone that was Blanchett Graves, the explosive inferno that was Lockbay Docks, the Water Devil-infested waters of Port Reeker, and this girl—these people thought they could just take it away from a bounty hunter and not expect for him to come to take it back?
I'm taking them back. Now.
And with that, I step out and reveal myself.
~⁕~
This is the third town this month that had fallen short of Ferrok's expectations; if this kept up, he and his men would have no choice but to take on some of the far more gruelling work Ursus had to offer or look for employment in an entirely different country, but where could we possibly go?
Perhaps Victoria? The Sarkaz Goliath once overheard Gari, a peculiar Feline caster, ranting incoherently about wealthy elitist snobs residing in their "ivory towers," contentedly believing that they were superior to the masses down below, constantly wasting their lives away only to benefit the ones at the top.
Not too long ago, back in mainland Ursus, Gari was so resentful of a group of noble tourists that only Gilliean's intervention kept her from stripping naked and causing an incident that would have been nothing short of a catastrophe had it happened.
Although thinking about those snobs, Ferrok would not have minded going over to Victoria for bountiful contracts and the opportunity to fuck with the nobles for fun.
Suddenly, from one of the many alleyways, his line of thought was interrupted.
"Hey."
Moving away from the girl and her mother, Ferrok's vision was drawn to a man dressed in an unusual attire that he had never seen before. With an axe in one hand, it was evident that he had no intention of going on offence or attacking anytime soon, and would only use it to defend himself if provoked. The man didn't appear to be a villager, and the language he used to greet Ferrok indicated that he was probably Columbian. The unusual man's race, on the other hand, remained a mystery, as most of his skin was concealed by a bandana and cap.
That could only mean one thing: he is the owner of those fraudulent firearms, and now he wants them back.
Ferrok spoke after a few moments of observing each other, his voice slightly muffled due to the mask that clung to his face, but that did not prevent him from conversing with the stranger.
"You... are the person that these villagers have swindled, are you?"
"Yeah." The man replied.
...
"The firearms and ammunition that once belonged to you are fraudulent and incapable of firing; what is the reason for that?"
At that, the stranger developed a solemn expression on his face. Was he enraged in some way? Even if he attacks, he will not win in this match-up—
"I'm playing the role of an outlaw, and if I were to accidentally fire a real shot at another actor, then it would be a tragedy."
...
At that moment, the only thing that was going through Ferrok's mind was "What?"
...
When Ferrok's mind caught up to what exactly the stranger had said, a peal of rambunctious laughter escaped his mouth, threatening to pop the cap off the lid that was his lips. It was as if Ferrok had been holding in a laugh for his whole life.
"...Ahahaha! That was so unexpected that it was hilarious! A cosplayer has no right to be here! What's the deal with a cosplayer in such a place? What on Terra is a cosplayer doing in rural Ursus, so far away from the theatre where somebody like you ought to be performing, ah beastboy?" After Ferrok's outburst, there was a moment of stunned silence from both parties. The stranger had not anticipated the torrent of words that poured from Ferrok's mouth, just as Ferrok had not anticipated the actor's response to his previous question.
A few more moments passed before the stranger shared some more.
"Truth be told, I have no idea where Ursus is. I've completely lost touch with the knowledge of the world around me, including its history, geography, culture, and even the names of historical figures. All I remember is that I have to play my role, and that role is that of a... a beastboy, as you've described me."
Ferrok considered this explanation carefully. The beastboy's attire is clearly inspired by an old Columbia movie. Was his entire outfit made from both the hide and fur of a burdenbeast? And his speech—ancient, and terribly so. So old that it may just as well be a bastardised form of the Victorian language. As weird as it was, it still somehow managed to encapsulate one of the characters from a film that Gilliean, a vampire who occasionally acts like a curious animal, enjoyed.
The adoration from Gilliean became so intense at one point, that he was given an ultimatum; prioritise the work in front of him or drown himself in Columbian culture. Of course, since the vampire was still alive and well, he obviously chose the work in front of him.
"So, you don't know anything, is that correct?" The Goliath asked for clarification.
"Pretty much, yeah." The man nodded, looking past me before looking up at me again. "I'm going to need my, uh, props back."
At the mention of the beastboy's props, Ferrok snorted. "Hehe, feel free; they're on the ground, covered by the cloth."
He pointed a thumb behind me as the strange man began trudging past me through the snow that had accumulated.
Suddenly, the girl's mother began to shout, drawing Ferrok's attention and causing him to turn his head towards her. She appeared to be yelling at the "Columbian," who was just holstering his pistol and sliding his ammunition in the bandoliers that were located on his shoulder strap and belt. The mother's yelling was unfortunately too fast and furious for Ferrok to translate accurately, which annoyed him slightly.
"Hey, what's she shriekin' about?" The beast wrangler nodded at the crying mother.
"This is not entirely accurate, but she blames you for her daughter's death."
The man's response was to tilt his head, showing how ridiculous of a claim this was, for it was the family's fault to take advantage of him when he was vulnerable. They were the ones who didn't realise that he wasn't a suitable individual to make money off of. They were the ones who failed to—
With a thunderous explosion, the mother's head from the jaw up was gone, along with the ability to hear properly temporarily in Ferrok's left ear.
Eventually, Ferrok recovered from being stunned by the deafening blast and stared at the thing that caused it. The larger and longer firearm prop that the family brought them currently emitted a smoke trail from the muzzle, obviously indicating that it had been fired, and quite successfully so.
"By the way, my gun isn't fraudulent, it works perfectly fine. I'm a bounty hunter, not whatever a cosplayer is. What I said earlier about my lack of knowledge about the world is the truth, because I'm not even from this world. I cannot be bothered to keep up with the wordplay and act like some memoryless fool. I'm a shooter, not a speaker, and having observed your group from afar earlier, I'll cut you a deal: I'll accompany you, and you'll show me the world."
After that, there was absolute silence between the two men. The snow had risen marginally during the speech, and the campfire had been nearly extinguished, reduced to embers.
The stranger held a hand out, waiting for a reply.
...
"Fine, but you'll have to pull your own weight." Ferrok Finally accepted, clasping the stranger's hand. The size difference is apparent.
"That's literally what I just implied—"
The bounty hunter was knocked off his feet when one of the previously cloaked figures slammed into him, sending both of them crashing to the ground, the soft snow crunching as the smaller figure began rapidly speaking.
"Oh my god! It's a real, authentic Columbian beastboy! Please, please say something like: 'This town ain't big enough for the both of us.' or, 'I like the way you die, boy.' Please!"
"What the— Ahhh!!?"
As the two struggled and writhed in the snow, Ferrok shook his head as he facepalmed.
Written by Alviunt
Proofread by Eidolic