Here is the first part of this story, it's just the prologue right now, but
if I get some good reviews, this will quickly grow into something (that I
think and hope will be) great.
-Bojack722
THE GUNSLINGER
Prologue
Vincent Valentine, Ex-Turk and former gun slinger/hero, rode quietly along, atop his faithful Chocobo, Setzer. He was a pillar of stoic dignity; a man of few words and little inflection, this was his way, it was how he lived; he was a quiet man, a man of simple beliefs and classic ideals that were rapidly fading away in an ever changing world.
Some people, especial those who didn't know about what type of man he was, viewed him as a relic, an outdated and unnecessary implement of justice in a forgotten time of lawlessness.
Vincent had seen many things in his long life span; he saw friends come and go, he'd experienced what he assumed was love, he'd seen death on many times, then he died for the first time. That moment was a dark turning point in his life, everything fell apart, and he completely withdrew himself from the world, to live forever in the shadows and the night.
Then _they_ came, they were this strange group of rebels, brought together by unusual circumstances, who were fighting against the corrupt establishment, they were trying to save the world from the ruthless claws of imperialistic greed and deception. He remembered them; some times perfectly clear, as if those fateful few months had happened just yesterday, and other times, he had trouble just remembering their names and what they looked like. But, on good days, he could remember them in great detail- Cloud, Aeris, Barret, and the others; they were such a unique group of individuals- he really did miss them all, these days. It was hard for him to think that they were all gone; passed on or faded into obscurity. Now, it seemed that he was the only one left.
Yet, this was his fate, to live forever, never knowing the joy of a normal life, but this was a dark, grim fact that he had resolved himself to. He wasn't prone to bouts of nostalgia or sentiment, he didn't weep for his long gone comrades, he hadn't shed a tear in so long that he couldn't remember if he had ever really cried at all, or if he even could cry- though, it wasn't as if he had any reason for such a display of emotion these days.
Vincent had been riding now for a while and he could tell that Setzer was growing weary and needed rest; he himself did not need much sleep to function. He was headed for Nibelheim; he had an appointment with a friend who lived there. Something was troubling him, it had started a couple of months ago and he just couldn't shake off the strange feeling within him. He was tired of this feeling, so he had decided to go see a doctor that he knew in the town, maybe he could help him figure out what was happening.
Vincent flinched at the feeling of the breeze against his exposed face. Then, he heard a click off to his side and he turned around. He could see the strange man, rapped up in a bandana and an old over coat, he was holding a rifle, which he was pointing strait at him. The dirty-faced man spoke up finally. "Alright, don't move," The man began. "Now toss yer money over here, right next to my feat." He instructed him.
Vincent frowned and looked the man over. "And what if I refuse?" He asked the bandit coolly. He wasn't too worried about the man before him.
The man was taken back by Vincent's blatant lack of respect for him, but spoke again, this time with more emotion in his voice. "Then I'll blast you!" He replied, lifting up the end of his gun.
Vincent shrugged his shoulders and looked away, then, without looking at the man, he spoke up again. "That sounds fair enough." He remarked simply, reaching into his dark crimson colored cloak to retrieve something.
The man smiled as he watched the man before him reach in to get what he was sure was his wallet. Sure enough, the pouch of money landed right on the ground, just before him. He stepped forward to pick it up. He wasn't expecting the strange man to pull out a small pistol and fire a shot right into his stomach. The whole thing happened in just a few secants.
Vincent watched as the man fell to the ground, grasping at the open wound on his stomach. This was one man who had learned the hard way, as Vincent saw it.
The man swore and looked up at Vincent through clinched eyes.
"Pick it up." Vincent instructed him with out any sine of emotion in his voice.
The man could see that the gun was aimed at him and he didn't doubt that the stranger was willing to shoot him again if he didn't do as he was told. So, reluctantly, he picked up the pouch and staggered over to the side of the Chocobo that that man was riding and gave him the money pouch back. Vincent put the money back into his cloak and looked at the man, who had just fallen down onto his hands and knees, just in time to hear him say something.
"Damnit Mister, you've blown me wide open, I'm bleedin' bad!" The man exclaimed, while fumbling around in the dust and dirt.
Vincent looked down at him impassively and finally spoke up. "You'll live." He said simply and then took the reigns of his Chocobo and rode off into the distance, leaving the man to fend for himself.
Vincent sighed and tucked his pistol back into his cloak. He frowned upon reflecting on what had just happened. "I'm getting too old for this shit." He said to himself as the gates to Nibelheim came into view, off in the distance.
~End of Prologue~
So, what did you think so far? Do you like it? If you do, then it would mean a lot t me if you would please give me good reviews, that way I can feel good about writing more, thanks.
-Bojack727
-Bojack722
THE GUNSLINGER
Prologue
Vincent Valentine, Ex-Turk and former gun slinger/hero, rode quietly along, atop his faithful Chocobo, Setzer. He was a pillar of stoic dignity; a man of few words and little inflection, this was his way, it was how he lived; he was a quiet man, a man of simple beliefs and classic ideals that were rapidly fading away in an ever changing world.
Some people, especial those who didn't know about what type of man he was, viewed him as a relic, an outdated and unnecessary implement of justice in a forgotten time of lawlessness.
Vincent had seen many things in his long life span; he saw friends come and go, he'd experienced what he assumed was love, he'd seen death on many times, then he died for the first time. That moment was a dark turning point in his life, everything fell apart, and he completely withdrew himself from the world, to live forever in the shadows and the night.
Then _they_ came, they were this strange group of rebels, brought together by unusual circumstances, who were fighting against the corrupt establishment, they were trying to save the world from the ruthless claws of imperialistic greed and deception. He remembered them; some times perfectly clear, as if those fateful few months had happened just yesterday, and other times, he had trouble just remembering their names and what they looked like. But, on good days, he could remember them in great detail- Cloud, Aeris, Barret, and the others; they were such a unique group of individuals- he really did miss them all, these days. It was hard for him to think that they were all gone; passed on or faded into obscurity. Now, it seemed that he was the only one left.
Yet, this was his fate, to live forever, never knowing the joy of a normal life, but this was a dark, grim fact that he had resolved himself to. He wasn't prone to bouts of nostalgia or sentiment, he didn't weep for his long gone comrades, he hadn't shed a tear in so long that he couldn't remember if he had ever really cried at all, or if he even could cry- though, it wasn't as if he had any reason for such a display of emotion these days.
Vincent had been riding now for a while and he could tell that Setzer was growing weary and needed rest; he himself did not need much sleep to function. He was headed for Nibelheim; he had an appointment with a friend who lived there. Something was troubling him, it had started a couple of months ago and he just couldn't shake off the strange feeling within him. He was tired of this feeling, so he had decided to go see a doctor that he knew in the town, maybe he could help him figure out what was happening.
Vincent flinched at the feeling of the breeze against his exposed face. Then, he heard a click off to his side and he turned around. He could see the strange man, rapped up in a bandana and an old over coat, he was holding a rifle, which he was pointing strait at him. The dirty-faced man spoke up finally. "Alright, don't move," The man began. "Now toss yer money over here, right next to my feat." He instructed him.
Vincent frowned and looked the man over. "And what if I refuse?" He asked the bandit coolly. He wasn't too worried about the man before him.
The man was taken back by Vincent's blatant lack of respect for him, but spoke again, this time with more emotion in his voice. "Then I'll blast you!" He replied, lifting up the end of his gun.
Vincent shrugged his shoulders and looked away, then, without looking at the man, he spoke up again. "That sounds fair enough." He remarked simply, reaching into his dark crimson colored cloak to retrieve something.
The man smiled as he watched the man before him reach in to get what he was sure was his wallet. Sure enough, the pouch of money landed right on the ground, just before him. He stepped forward to pick it up. He wasn't expecting the strange man to pull out a small pistol and fire a shot right into his stomach. The whole thing happened in just a few secants.
Vincent watched as the man fell to the ground, grasping at the open wound on his stomach. This was one man who had learned the hard way, as Vincent saw it.
The man swore and looked up at Vincent through clinched eyes.
"Pick it up." Vincent instructed him with out any sine of emotion in his voice.
The man could see that the gun was aimed at him and he didn't doubt that the stranger was willing to shoot him again if he didn't do as he was told. So, reluctantly, he picked up the pouch and staggered over to the side of the Chocobo that that man was riding and gave him the money pouch back. Vincent put the money back into his cloak and looked at the man, who had just fallen down onto his hands and knees, just in time to hear him say something.
"Damnit Mister, you've blown me wide open, I'm bleedin' bad!" The man exclaimed, while fumbling around in the dust and dirt.
Vincent looked down at him impassively and finally spoke up. "You'll live." He said simply and then took the reigns of his Chocobo and rode off into the distance, leaving the man to fend for himself.
Vincent sighed and tucked his pistol back into his cloak. He frowned upon reflecting on what had just happened. "I'm getting too old for this shit." He said to himself as the gates to Nibelheim came into view, off in the distance.
~End of Prologue~
So, what did you think so far? Do you like it? If you do, then it would mean a lot t me if you would please give me good reviews, that way I can feel good about writing more, thanks.
-Bojack727