In the violet-hued starry void of the inner vault, great stone effigies that paid remembrance to bullet long past bobbed serenely to the slow rhythm of the universe. But their calm motions had no effect on the bouncy nature of the new arrival who hopped gleefully from one pillar to the next.

"Hoo yeah! Total victory, baby! Aw man I'm just so pumped!"

Only after landing on the long side of a stone bullet did the ginger fox in the sick leather jacket open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Bullet casings of all kinds soared over him like vapor trails, plus there were some clocks and half-loaded gun chambers floating around for some reason.

"Whoa, this is like, really trippy. How'd I wind up in space?"

But his twitchy attention was then snagged by the set of stairs that led up to more stairs and even more stairs that finally ended a few stories up, where his ultimate prize undoubtedly waited.

"Guess there's just one more mountain to climb." Hefting up his shotbow, the fox announced, "To Valhalla!", then went sprinting up the first set of stairs.

It really had been a wild time for Gregg. Unlike most gungeoneers who had their excitement squashed after just a few runs through the Gungeon, the troublemaker seemed to only get more invigorated with every retry. He took to every descent with gusto, dodge-rolling constantly even when there weren't any bullets to avoid, and he met every enemy with a crazed smile, a battle cry and a popping of bullets. Whether it was because he had a screw loose or he was naturally inclined to put ludicrous amounts of energy into everything he did, none could say for certain. His enthusiasm even began to frighten the Gundead in the first three chambers to the point where they started making inquiries on how to boot him from the Gungeon without the use of the sacred Gun, though such a thing was impossible.

But luckily for both them and him, it took Gregg under twenty attempts to get to the Forge, slay the Dragun, and enter the inner vault. Mostly thanks to his blazing determination, but also in part thanks to his skill with the crossbow. Oh man, it was practically crossbow heaven for the fox. Even though the selection was small compared to other weapon types, he still got the most out of the traditional crossbow, the triple crossbow, and especially the crescent crossbow (pew pew!). Nothing quite as satisfying as sniping and one-shot killing Bullet Kin, Gunjurers, those walking grenades, Dets, and especially those noob sniper bullets. And he couldn't have hoped for a better finisher than by blasting a ton of arrows into the Dragun's heart at point-blank. Ka-POW! Overkill!

In no time Gregg made it to the summit and skidded to a halt before the red and gold chest at the other end.

"Woo! King of the Mountain! Now to take that trophy."

He shoved the covering off and stared eagerly, bouncing in place while the coveted Gun That Can Kill The Past floated up and materialized into a cool gunmetal gray. He snatched it from the air the moment it got within reach.

"Score! Heheh!" He stared at it in concentration for a few moments, particularly eying the curved barrel. "Pretty nice, pretty nice. Definitely the kind of thing that could kill someone's past by the look of it. Though something like a rifle would be cooler. Better yet, an anti-tank rifle. 50 cal, yeah."

It had certainly been a weird rumor the first time he heard it with the others, he had to admit. It's the kind of lame urban legend middle-schoolers or some cruddy writer would make up; pretty dumb even by his standards. But what a surprise when he discovered that pursuing this legend meant plunging into a wicked-ass shooting gallery! Had he known this beforehand, he would have come running for the Breach alone rather than tailing after Mae.

Personally, Gregg had no serious grievances with his past like his feline friend had. He just wanted to pop some fools, make big-ass explosions, and have a hell of a time doing it before going back home. A sort of vacation to vent his destructive tendencies. But since he'd already come so far, he might as well reap the rewards. And there was one thing he wouldn't mind undoing.

"Welp, let's see what this bad boy can do." Dropping his shotbow, Gregg reached into his jacket and pulled out the special Bullet, which he quickly loaded into the Gun. Cocking it before him, he hyped himself up while holding down the trigger, rattling alongside reality itself as the Crosshairs focused. "Let's Rock!"

In a dimension-shattering blast the hyper fox went falling through the years in a vortex of colors. Rewinding to one specific moment of shame and regret.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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


Generating…


Lee Sheep Farm

The Past (12 Years Prior)

In an instant Gregg found himself standing on solid ground, bringing an abrupt end to his wild space tumble.

"WAAAAAH! Whoa, talk about a head trip. Where am I?"

It was late afternoon wherever he was, if the sun was any indication. Hold the phone, he was back outside! And the line of trees in the distance, and the mud under his feet, and the wooden fencing next to him was extremely familiar. The heady stink of farm animals that filled the air confirmed it.

"No way, it's my uncle's farm. That's the pen, and the rest of the farm, exactly as I remembered it." He held up his arms and saw they were quite diminished. "Holy Crap I'm eight years old again! AAAAAAAAGGHH!"

Gregg noodled his arms wildly in shock, excitement and disbelief over this realization. But he put a hold on his freak-out to consider things.

"That means it worked! I can keep it from happening!"

With elation he looked to the sheep pen that was next to him, only to find it missing a fair number of sheep. The swinging gate close by was a damn good indicator as to why.

"Dammit, I had already let them out!? Why didn't that gun send me to before I opened the gate? Lousy piece of shit! What the hell do I do now?"

(Save those stupid sheep, duh!)

(Keep noodling! AAAAAAGH!)

"No no no no, gotta relax. I can still fix this."

As if to affirm that belief, a not-so-distant "baahh" rang out from the direction of the treeline that marked the edge of the farm. Looking there, he spotted some blobs of white fluff bounding off into the forest.

"But I gotta hurry!"

He started to take off, but stopped when his gaze fell upon a curious object that had gone unnoticed up till then: a wooden crossbow, lying rather conspicuously on the ground close by. Picking it up, it struck him as looking very similar to the same kind of slick crossbow he used in the Gungeon. It even had a similar aiming scope jammed onto it.

"Definitely don't remember this being here."

This discrepancy was quickly shrugged off as a plan formed in his little fox skull, all while his little fox feet got him running in the direction of the woods. It took him less than a minute to clear the field and get among the trees, but he wasn't following directly after the runaway sheep like the first time around. Instead of catching up, his primary focus was on getting through the forest as fast as possible, a little ways to the right from where they ran.

His littler physique made traversing the foliage quite swift, and in no time he made it to the hillcrest that looked down onto the interstate below. Cars of all kinds going to and fro, but no sheep guts to be seen. Perfect.

Looking around, he spotted a suitable tree and took to it like a squirrel. He clambered onto a branch midway up in seconds, and crawled out a ways before laying himself flat. Pulling up his crossbow, he looked toward the edge of the highway to the left. By his reckoning, those dumbass sheep should be breaking from cover any… there they were. About ten of them bunching up, readying to go downhill. Gregg immediately turned his gaze back onto the highway, and soon spotted the primary threat to his redemption barreling down the interstate.

CROSSING HAZARD

SEMI TRUCKS

No sooner had he spotted the first big rig when the sheep began their panicked rush down the incline of the hill. Gregg leveled the crossbow sight with his eye and took aim.

"Steady, steady. No time for screw-ups, dude."

Saying something like that would normally make him nervous, but he was too jacked on adrenaline to be fazed. Not jacked enough to affect his aiming, weirdly enough, as he trained his sights on the lower front corner of the oncoming truck. He allowed some seconds to take a breath and lock on, then pulled the trigger. The crossbow twanged silently as the bolt shot out, and in seconds a hit was registered with a loud pop.

"Frickin' Bulls-Eye!"

The big rig began to turn wildly side to side, but the driver had enough control and sense to veer it to the side of the road, tearing up a chunk of hill before coming to a stop. As cars honked and maneuvered their way around the stricken vehicle, the sheep in the meantime had begun their crossing.

Even more honks and wild steering, but not one car collided with a single sheep.

"Yes! Watch yourself, sheep!"

Gregg watched excitedly as the wayward sheep either kept running across the highway or retreated to the safety of the hill. The majority of them thought it best to go back the way they came, however three of them pushed on over the median and clear to the other side. The only three brave or stupid enough to go the whole way. And absolutely no casualties.

"I, I did it. I actually stopped them from getting splattered."

The three that had made it across just stood there on the border between the other side of the woods and the pavement. As they looked around, a thought occurred to Gregg.

"Wait, this is when I'm supposed to be down there yelling at them to come back. Are they gonna stay there now? Or are they still gonna—"

And right then two of them bolted back onto the highway.

"AAH SHIT!"

The fox fumbled and slammed his crossbow back against his shoulder, hurriedly taking aim to the right and instantly spotting the second semi truck. With no time to properly aim, he yelled before firing off a second bolt and praying to whoever or whatever was listening. An expulsion of rubber and air met his prayers, and he witnessed the massive transport make a sharp, desperate turn to its left. It roared mere feet from the faces of the sheep as it trundled its way onto the median in a wail of brakes and strained axles. Either the loud noises or the literal brush with death convinced the two sheep to twirl around and scamper back to the safety of the forest's edge. Their stalwart brother, unnerved by all that has transpired, turned into the woods and bounced off to freedom, the other two following close behind. Shaken, but very much in one piece.

Speaking of shaken, Gregg let out a breath and slumped onto his branch, letting his eyes and muscles rest.

"That was close. Too close. But, they get to live. Three instead of one. Free instead of dead. Awesome…"

He laid there a few moments more to let his frayed nerves ease. When he chanced to open his eyes, he saw the one semi stranded in the median, its driver having stepped out and inspecting what had happened. It then occurred to Gregg the exact gravity of the situation.

"I need to get outta here. I'll get me and my uncle in big shit if they come looking and find me here."

With that he got himself down out of the tree and made his way back in the direction of the farm, holding the incriminating crossbow closely.

"Don't think anyone saw me. Still gonna have to dump this somewhere. Maybe toss it in the mulcher." He shrugged and picked up the pace, feeling dang good about himself. "But holy shit I saved them all! And nearly caused a major pile-up in doing so. Man, eight-year-old me lucked out on not having to deal with that. Actually, shouldn't I be going back to the present now? I fixed my greatest regret, so I should've been zapped back. Or how would I get back exactly? There were no notes or instructions saying what to do after taking care of things. Heh, it'd be pretty lame if I..."

He came to a halt as a dreadful realization made his jaw drop.

"No. No way. I can't… Am I seriously stuck here? Stuck as a dumb kid? That means I'm gonna be around when my uncle beats me when he finds out about the sheep. And I'll have to go through puberty again. Oh effin' dammit this sucks so hard! GRRRAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

He felt the rising need to punch something. Punch his little paw into a tree until one of them was ground into pulp. Or gnaw at something. But this frustration abruptly passed when a mature, more composed thought arose.

"Should've expected that. I mean, being able to go and kill your past had to have some kind of catch. And it's not really the worse sort of catch. Just have to relive my life back to adulthood. Kinda wish I'd brought some old lottery numbers to make a killing. Damn. But at least I can do more kid stuff without it being weird. I'm also not thinking like a kid, so I can be less stupid about stuff. Avoid making some really dumb decisions. Not be utter trash. Holy crap Yeah! I could totally improve myself with all my adult wisdom! Serious do-over for both middle and high school! And I can hook up with Angus sooner than before! Hell Yeah!"

Gregg immediately broke into a run, a grin plastered wide on his face and his little mind filling up with newfound possibilities. Most enticing of all was the treasure he knew would be waiting for him down life's road.

"Just hang in there, Cap'n: your little Bug will be back soon… ish!"


Thanks for playing!

You killed the past. The Gungeon remains...