A few more steps. Just a few more and she'll finally be done with all this. But those steps might as well be a sharp rocky incline with how worn out she was.

"Effing hell. Why couldn't they have put it right behind that bullet shower?"

Fatigue had set in shortly after she arrived in the trippy cosmic inner vault of the Gungeon. A weariness she couldn't stave off any longer even if she tried; not even the high of finally overcoming the High Dragun could energize her. But it was a hard-won, well-deserved victory nonetheless. Left her pretty bloodied, but those scrapes were nothing compared to the dents she made in that beast, as well as all the other Gundead she faced, with her trusty batting partner. Which was a bat.

Quite the absurd find here in an ever-changing labyrinth famed for its loads and loads of firearms, which themselves could easily be just as absurd if not more. But Mae was always finicky with guns or anything gun-related. Perhaps too small to effectively handle them, even after all the time she spent diving into these god-forsaken depths. So imagine her surprise at finding a cursed bat that not only was good at walloping fools, but could also reflect bullets. Needless to say she was deadly proficient with the thing, and made a literal killing all the way down to the Forge. Certainly made bashing in that stupid dragon's heart all the more satisfying. Rather ironic that it shared the same name as one of her old friends. Or was ironic the right word? Either way, it gave her comfort knowing that even though he was gone, Casey was still watching her back. And front. And pretty much her entire horizontal plane.

These reflections came to an immediate stop as the battered cat ascended the final step and saw it: an ornate red chest at the end of a long platform. Dropping her bat, she garnered a boost of energy that immediately went to moving her scrawny legs toward the treasure. Her paws went onto the lid the moment she got there. No guards, not even locked.

"Oh god. This, this is it."

She wasted no time in pushing the covering until it fell off with an ancient groan. Her arms went up to block the flare of light that shot out of the box, but as her eyes adjusted she looked in time to see her prize rise up into the air like a misshapen star of wonderment. A hefty-looking revolver, with a very long barrel bent up and backwards so that it pointed right back at whoever held it. After doing a little midair spin it gently floated down into Mae's grubby mitts. In mere seconds and with hardly any ceremony, Mae Borowski found herself the proud possessor of the very Gun That Can Kill The Past.

"Huh. I was expecting something a little more… mystical? Something with a little more flash." She tumbled it between her paws to examine it some more. "So I have to shoot myself with it? Makes sense, I guess. Probably saves them having to leave a note with instructions given how it's built; can't think of anything more self-explanatory. Now I kinda wonder how they tested this to begin with to see if it actually worked."

You'd think she'd be a lot more exhilarated with finally attaining a relic capable of rewriting one's history. She certainly had been at the very start, after she found that old guy who first spoke the legend in town and brought her to the Breach. And there was some manic glee in indiscriminately gunning down those adorable walking bullets and blowing up all kinds of shit the first thirty or so trips through the Gungeon.

But the repeated attempts, failures, deaths, and retries had worn out her enthusiasm long ago. Perhaps hundreds of hours ago for all she knew. Hours spent flipping tables, rolling through barrels, getting cursed, wasting shells on Ace's shooting game, and dying constantly to so many things: traps, Gun Nuts, Bulletkin, that dodgy Ammoconda, Lead Maidens, those stupid bubble-spewing frogs, Shelletons, the Kill Pillars, the Wall Mongerer, and far too many times getting ganked by to those annoying-as-ass Gun Fairies.

So yeah, after so much frustration and agony, one's enthusiasm would be sufficiently lowered, even when holding something very few could ever hope to behold. But she did remember one critical step.

"Enough screwing around. Let's load you up."

Mae withdrew a single bullet from her Item space and put it into the chamber. Real fortunate for her that upon finding the Blacksmith's shop she not only learned that the gun needed special ammo to properly work, but that there was a surplus of these special bullets being handed out for free to anyone who made it that far. Sure would've sucked to have come here only to have no way of actually using the dang thing. A rare instance of preparedness on Mae's part, she reflected as she clicked the cylinder back in place.

"Alright, Mae," she psyched herself after taking a steadying breath. "Time to do this."

She raised the gun and pointed it to the side of her head, but stopped upon feeling the smooth edge of the upended barrel. "Oh, right. Not like that." She held the gun before her, momentarily confused as to how to handle it. "God why did they have to make it so ass-backwards?" After fumbling for a bit she finally held it as one normally does with a pistol. With the barrel of the gun looking right at the spot between her eyes, Mae could feel the Crosshairs of Time focusing on her.

Furrowing her brows, she concentrated by uttering the time-worn prayer of, "Hope this works."

Her stubby paw digit pressed down the trigger, and reality shook around her a few scant seconds before the gun fired. To the sound of shattering glass her vision exploded into a cascade of colors, intermixed with the scent of arcane gunpowder. Thus Mae was thrown backwards in bullet time and space, her little body tumbling to that most pivotal turning point. Where it first went all wrong.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Enter the Gun-geon! (Enter the Gun!)


Generating…


Softball Field

The Past (6 years prior)

Mae's eyes snapped open to the sound of cheers and the fading "plink" of aluminum on leather. First thing she discovered was she was no longer in the cosmic void, or even in the moldy confines of the Gungeon, as evidenced by the bright natural lighting and waft of mildly warm fresh air. She then noticed that she was sitting on the worn bench of a crappy dug-out, and that she wasn't alone.

"Hey, you in there, Mae?"

"Huh, bluh-wuh?"

She looked to her left and saw the annoyed look of Clarissa Reynolds, a stork who was one of her classmates from freshman year, wearing a familiar softball uniform. Hold on, uniform? Freshman year? Wait, no way…

"I said are you awake?"

"Uhhh yeah, sure, Clare. Just, you know, bored. Getting a bit antsy."

"Keep your head in the game, Mae. Rog just got to second."

It didn't take Mae any time at all to put it together. She was back in Possum Springs, fourteen years old, playing softball. That gun didn't kill her past: it just sent her back in time. What a jip!

Before she could curse and lament some more, the sound of an announcer's voice rang out, "Wonderful swing right there from Roger! Now up next to bat: Mae Borowski."

"Stay focused and hit it far," Clare urged, patting the feline's shoulder encouragingly. Seeing the other players on her team look to her, Mae shrugged and got off the bench, putting on her helmet before leaving the cover of the dugout.

Brilliant springtime sunshine, nary a cloud in the sky. She looked to that bright blue while instinctively grabbing a bat on her way to the batter's box, the modest crowd on the outer stands clapping over her approach. Her parents among them.

"Wooo! Knock 'em dead, Mae!"

Gregg as well? Of course; he always came to see her games, awesome guy that he was/still is. But that cheer in particular rose up a greater sense of deja vu that had begun with Clare's words, and was further compounded once she got a good look at the bat she was holding. Familiar weight, color, grip. Looking out to the field it all came full circle in her head upon seeing who was pitching: Andy Cullen.

This was no regular softball game from her younger days. This was the softball game.

What the heck is going on? Her frazzled mind whirred. This is moments before the "incident". Before I ran out there and beat Andy's face in. But I know it's gonna happen, so then… A do-over, of course! I'm getting a chance to fix things myself! Boy I really wished they mentioned this mechanic somewhere. Would've saved me from having to freak out. Although I'm still totally freaking out. No, can't think like that. Focus!

As her thoughts wrestled and tumbled over and around themselves, young Mae had walked right up to plate. Upon mentally slapping herself back into the present(?), she observed the field around her, the other players, Andy waiting for her to get ready. She gave her neck and shoulders a quick loosening up.

Okay, plan. It's real simple, Mae: just get through this game without losing your chill. Better yet, strike out. Gets you out of the game quicker, so nobody has to have a bat to their face. A cocksure grin formed on her feline lips. You totally got this.

This confidence in mind, Mae eased herself into batting position, signalling Andy to do his worst. But as he was stepping up to make the pitch, she noticed the outside of his arms becoming fuzzy.

Huh?

This peculiar fuzziness spread around his arms and over the rest of his body, then to Mae's horror she saw as his eyes, mouth, his entire face, dissolved into a smattering of disjointed colors. His entire body steadily lost definition, becoming a floating pile of mismatching squares and rectangles.

Oh no, oh no no no. It's, it's happening again.

As Andy became a skittery blob of sharp edges, Mae's sight became unfocused and her chest tightened. All sound became distorted, save for her own ragged breathing. Anxiety crawled its way over the fringes of her mind, coating her thoughts with fear and anger. It was getting hotter. She was getting dizzy.

It's exactly like before. He's, losing all meaning. It's… It's…

(Keep it together!)

(Shapes. Just empty shapes.)

Mae screwed her eyes shut, slowed down and took deep breaths.

Nothing's wrong. This is just temporary. It'll pass, Mae. Stay cool.

In a shocking moment of personal serenity, Mae let go of her worries and stood as she was, unmindful of the world around her. She stayed that way for several seconds, and feeling confident she was still firmly rooted to the ground, she slowly reopened her eyes. However, she was greeted by a new sight of unpleasantness, as the very fabric of reality started wigging out all around the field before everything darkened and the air took on a sickly, heavy feel.

In the spot where the facade of Andy stood, a spot of blackness appeared and grew, spreading out and spilling over the blocks of green and brown that made up the playing field.

What the hell is all this?

From out of this frothing inkwell (as in a literal well spilling ink) there sprouted something nigh indescribable to mortal sight and reasoning. But if Mae had to harbor a guess, it had horns, stretchy claws, and roiling red eyes at least. As the abomination's growing presence continued to distort everything around it, revealing glimpses of cosmic abysses, memories of a damp and eerie mine flashed through the kitty's mind.

"You..!"

WHISPERER IN THE DARK

BLACK GOAT

Seemingly recognizing her as well, the creature from beyond the stars let out a string of tortured bleats and screeches that would drive sane mortals hopelessly mad. But it wasn't horror or insanity that was filling up Mae at that moment.

"Did you have something to do with that day? Your cult wasn't enough, so you're trying to mess with me, is that it?"

The Old One growl-bleated curiously, whether by the cat's words or how she wasn't foaming at the mouth. Said cat was fuming over this newly-realized implication, raising up her inexplicably reacquired Casey bat. No use questioning a gift horse in the mouth (or something), she thought while swinging her weapon a few times before staring down the inky freak.

"Whatever the case, you made a huge mistake showing yourself."

And with that, she charged the creature with bat raised. The Black Goat pulled back its spade-shaped head before vomiting out a wave of… bullets? Big red round moderately fast bullets, like the ones Mae faced constantly in the Gungeon. And just like in the Gungeon, her first instinct was to leap over the projectiles, landing and rolling back up into a run that got her up close to the murky monstrosity. Without hesitation she swung at the beast and smashed its front, eliciting an unearthly groan from it before she followed up with a second bash.

Of course the Goat wasn't going to take a third straight hit, and quickly evaporated itself into the dismal antispace it produced earlier. Mae stood tense and confounded only a moment before the soft shrieks of a dying star system alerted her to her quarry's reappearance somewhere far to her right. Undeterred, Mae went running toward it, while its eyes shone to signal the arrival of a round of bullet bursts.

The little batter took to sidestepping the incoming fire, but when it got to be a little too thick, she charged up her Casey and swung at an oncoming cluster, smacking it away and right into their summoner! The Arkham Abomination gurgled at this sudden turnaround and retreated into the ether once more. It wasn't long before it appeared a little ways ahead, where it began chanting a verse from the cosmos. From the astral field surrounding Mae there arose remnants of a mining operation: pickaxes, shovels, sledgehammers, minecarts, all surrounded in a ghastly aura before being flung at her. She proved too nimble to be hit by this particular attack and went about closing the distance between her and the Elder God to deliver a few more cracks of her bat. But instead of running away it instead pulled back a misshapen limb and swiped directly at its attacker, knocking her a good ways from it.

Mae grunted upon banging against a star cluster, but quickly found her feet and pulled herself together. That swipe certainly stung, and it left a searing mark on her chest. She shrugged it off, nevertheless.

"Gonna take more than that to put me down."

The eldritch horror shot out its two billowing arms and began firing a mad whirlwind of bullets. Mae charged forward, batting back whatever bullets got too close and weaving through the rest, reaching the dire Goat and giving it a few more hefty whacks. The monster screeched and snapped up its neck, causing everything to blink into nothingness for a sec before Mae wound up falling onto the luminescent disc of the new moon high above. Up on her feet once more, she looked up to stare down at the Black Goat as it conjured up an undulating landscape of nightmares that produced, you guessed it, more bullets.

Mae leapt to the challenge and ran/fell through the tormented memories of Possum Spring's past, bypassing and batting the bullets that got between her and what could tentatively be considered the "ground" in this starry chasm. She bounded off buildings and hills, adjusting to the wonky gravity to great effect by the time the Goat decided to fire off a seething laser in her direction. Mae flipped around it and plummeted directly toward the beast's head, and once in range she wound up for the homer and brought her anger down upon its otherworldly skull.

Everything faded to white momentarily, and once color returned Mae found herself standing before the writhing Great One, which seemed to be shrinking away as it screeched and clawed about in agony. This was quite surprising to her; given what it was, it had gone down quicker than the Cannonbalrog. Hell, it went down quicker than the Gorgun!

"Grandad's book said you things couldn't be defeated, but I guess I proved it wrong!" Raising up her bat in victory, she jeered, "Suck it you freak! Get back in your hole and stay out of my head if you know what's good for ya!"

The Miskatonic Menace stopped its death rattle and began murmuring in a language that no mortal tongue can rightly produce, or even poorly mimic.

"I still can't understand a word that you're saying, guy."

"Foolish one!"

"Gwah, what the hell?!"

The shout rang out in Mae's head like a gunshot in a cement mixer, and she barely had time to deal with the pain before it continued.

"Labeling I as the source of your woes and failures, when I merely aggravate what is already there! Mine influence is but the spores that settle into the pre-existing cracks of cognition. I sing only to the weary, the hopeless, the defective. Theirs are the ears that can decipher my hymn."

"Wha, what? What are you—GUH!"

A ringing in her ears rose from a whisper to a scream, eroding her thoughts and sense of balance. Yet through her wavering sight, she managed to see the Black Goat point a condemning claw her way.

"Know this, mortal: You are broken. And you shall forever remain broken, no matter how much you rave against it. Disillusionment will always be your lot."

The Goat fizzled away into nothingness, as did everything else as Mae collapsed and blanked out.


When Mae came to, she found herself lying on the dirt by the batter's plate, the blue sky blazing down on her without a care in the world. Nothing like the frightened looks of her parents and Gregg, who were either standing or kneeling down by her prone form.

"Mae! Mae, talk to us, kitten!" her father pleaded, showing distress so unbecoming of his normally chill character. Which in itself legitimately upset her past her disorientation.

"Please sweetie, say something!" her mother also begged.

"Uggghhh," was Mae's assuring response. It brought some relief to her parents' faces, but hadn't wiped away the concern. "Mom? Dad?"

"Oh thank God, you're okay!" Mae's mother let out a shaky sigh while holding a paw to her chest. "Are you okay, honey?"

"Uhhh. Yeah, I am," she said groggily. "What's going on?"

"You just passed out!" her vulpine pal Gregg yelled. "Everyone's freaking out. I think someone's calling for an ambulance."

"No. No ambulances. I'm, I'm fine."

"Are you sure, Mae?" her father asked.

"Yeah Dad. I'm just, woozy, is all."

"We'll take you home, Mae. And see about having Dr. Hank come look at you."

"Home sounds nice, Mom." Mae's glazed look turned to the crisp spring sky. "Sounds real nice."

"Want me to come too, Mae?"

"You don't have to, Gregg."

"No, he can come, Mom. If he wants."

"Oh. Alright then, honey."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Mae?"

"Yeah. In fact… Never better."

In those moments of talking with her parents, Mae concluded that she must've passed out before Andy got a chance to pitch. Would explain why he wasn't beneath her bleeding all over the grass. Meaning she succeeded: she prevented the "incident". No school suspension; no bad reputation; no financial repercussions for her parents; the house won't be at risk. Another chance to make high school, her life in general, suck considerably less.

She had no idea what was up with that dream confrontation with the Black Goat. Maybe a hallucination brought on by her narrowly-avoided freakout. But it did remind her that there was that murder cult still in town, making sacrifices. She might be able to do something about them, or at the very least find a way to save Casey from that fate. Probably would be a good idea to make up with Bea and be there for her when shit goes down in her life. And also talk to her parents about seeing a shrink. Maybe reconsider college. Definitely avert the prom disaster.

So many new opportunities to consider. But for now, Mae was gonna settle for some rest. After everything she's been through, she felt a break was long overdue.


Thanks for playing!

You killed the past. The Gungeon remains...