It was quite breathtaking, to be honest: swirls of cosmic ether intermingled with spent bullet shells, relics of ages both past and future, and a very tranquil underlying thrum that soothed the soul as much as the dark yet vibrant colors soothed the eyes. A very welcome change of pace from the cacophony and sweltering heat of the Forge, especially so for the husky bear and his torn sweater vest—which he would have left behind had he known where he'd wind up.

"No one's here. That's rather peculiar," he observed aloud, but didn't dwell on it any longer than that. Having crossed the floating pillars, he stood a moment to take in the stellar environment. After expressing his suspicions, he proceeded to move at a slow, relaxed pace to the stairs that lay before him. These fantastical surroundings deserved to be visually absorbed and appreciated, he thought. That, and he didn't want to kick up his asthma with unnecessary running.

Breathing complications aside, Angus was always one to not rush things. This had certainly been the case when he first arrived in the Breach. Rather than dive on into the first Chamber, he walked around the vaulted entrance hall to seek out his wayward boyfriend. When he couldn't find him, or his other missing friend, he turned to the residents for information.

Admittedly they weren't the most talkative of characters, but he did get a good idea of what to expect of the Gungeon. Namely, the fact that once he entered, there was no immediate escape, not even through death. It was either delve the depths and claim the grand prize, or stay a permanent resident. While it might have been interesting to see how his video store clerk skills would fare in the field of arms dealing, he would much rather get back to his precious Bug.

Thus, he underwent extensive training under the tutelage of Sir Manuel. Extensive because his hefty self made mastery of the dodge roll a tad difficult, but his ghostly trainer was ever patient and encouraging. Once he trained enough to pull off the maneuver reasonably well, he took to the Gungeon proper in search of the one way out. The changing, rogue-like nature of the Chambers reminded Angus greatly of Demon Tower, though the enemy and weapon variety was far more expansive, and he didn't have to worry about his health diminishing every floor. However, he would've loved to have the flash step mechanic instead of having to throw his bulk around to avoid danger.

That quibble aside, his jaunts through the five floors were nevertheless interesting, if at times taxing and mildly frustrating. He got to see many bizarre things, help out the Lost Adventurer in mapping the various rooms, and did battle with curious pun-heavy creatures using equally pun-tastic weapons and curios. On his final run he had managed to score a Proton Pack early on, and later obliterated all opposition with the powerful and hilariously broken combo of the Abyssal Tentacle and the Metronome. It really was like living out a video game; undoubtedly Gregg would've had a blast here, and such a thought made him lonely for the little fox's company.

In the time it took to recount these events, Angus had reached the pinnacle of the faux-ziggurat. Across from him was a lone ornate chest, with gilded statuettes on top that made him think of the Arc of the Covenant. Approaching it, he gave it a lookover and a few tentative pats. No traps as far as he could ascertain.

"Even more peculiar. But it probably would have been needlessly cruel to have it booby trapped even after beating the final boss."

Confident in that assertion, Angus gently pushed back the chest covering with a paw. After it had moved halfway back, it slid the rest of the way off on its own with a low creak. Light flared out and flashed off the bear's glasses, blinding him a moment before the chest's coveted contents floated up. For some seconds it was a spinning blob of brilliance, but in a flash it took on an unquestionable shape and coloration: The Gun That Can Kill The Past. The light of the chest faded away as the one true Gun hovered gently down before Angus, patiently waiting on him to tenderly take hold of it.

He stared at the curved barrel and overall simplistic design for a few moments, coming to terms that he was holding his one true exit out of the Gungeon. In all his runs he hadn't found any trace of Mae or Gregg, and since they were nowhere in the Breach, he ascertained that they had both come here and made use of this weapon. Something he was about to do as well.

With a solemn nod he brought the Gun close to his chest while gently putting down his Barrel. Ironic that fish would prove to be the Dragun's deathblow after he had burned through his other guns. One paw free, he dug into his pockets and pulled out the special Bullet that would make the Gun usable. Always pays to explore every room in each Chamber, otherwise he would have missed out on this vital item. Cocked and loaded, Angus brought the ceremonial weapon to bear (no pun intended) and readied to make his escape.

...At least, that had been his original intent. After all, he only came to the Gungeon to find out what happened to Gregg, and possibly Mae. With them gone, he just had to get back to Possum Springs, where they were undoubtedly waiting. This would be as simple as undoing a more recent regret in his own past so he'd be close to where he started. Or perhaps go back to when they first heard that rumor and take a proactive approach in keeping them from running off.

However… all that wandering and dungeon-crawling gave him plenty of time to think. To ruminate. To reconsider certain aspects of his early life. And his musings inevitably zeroed in on a most unpleasant period that he had long believed to have accepted and moved past, but still heated his blood the more he thought about it. So given the once in a lifetime opportunity to undo something that still rankled him to this day… well, not even a guy as swell as Angus could resist such temptation.

His heart and mind decided, the bear pulled the trigger and blasted himself way back into the past. To remedy the greatest injustice in his humble life.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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


Generating…


Delaney Residence

The Past (13 years prior)

It was exactly as cramped as he remembered. And just as dark and suffocating. There were boxes and cans of food lying around his seated form, as well as atop him. He remembered she had slammed the door extra hard that particular day, making him feel especially frightened and woeful.

The pantry of his old family home had long been a prison to him during most of his mother's worst days. A means to keep him out of sight so she wouldn't have to look at him, and more importantly not be reminded that he was a mouth to be fed. In some twisted way it served as a sanctuary, a reprieve from the beatings his father would deliver. Yet it never stopped him from getting hungry as well as scared.

The sounds of the TV filtered in through the wood. His mother was going about her life like everything was normal, while her own son wallowed away starving and neglected in some crummy-ass closet. This cannot be the way things work. Not for a kid. He can't sit there and do nothing; there must be something he can do about this predicament.

(Bust out of there)

(Try reaching out to someone)

Angus had experienced enough in his life to know that there wasn't anyone out there who could help him. That there was God who can save him; just him. And he was going to settle things here and now.

The young bear, brimming with resolve, stood up from his seat of despair and turned to that cruel, lifeless door. Puffing out his chest, he pulled back a fist and, with one mighty punch, smashed the pantry door to pieces. Huge chunks of cheap lumber flew out into the dingy kitchen, scattering over tile and heaping onto the dining table and countertops beyond. As he stepped out from the confines of the pantry, his jailer promptly arrived, her beige smock mottled with random stains and her face looking like that of a raving banshee.

"What just exploded in here?!" Spotting the youth standing amidst the wreckage, she screeched, "ANGUS! What did you do to the kitchen!?"

Not the least bit unnerved by that soul-rending tone, he turned a cold level gaze toward her and said, "Hello, mother."

The matriarch was momentarily befuddled by this firm, unintimidated greeting, but her rancor swelled back up more scathing than before. "Are you out of your *#^%ing mind? How did you break through that door? And making this $&^ ing mess; when your father hears about this—"

And practically right on cue there stepped in the head of the household, back from work in his soot-covered flannel shirt and jeans.

"What is with all this racket? The neighbors can hear every damn—" He stopped when he beheld the debris covering almost every surface, and instantly turned a mean look to his undeniably guilty son. "Boy, what the hell did you do to the kitchen?"

"That's exactly what I'm wanting to know!" his wife shouted.

"I was done being cooped up in that pantry. No place for a kid, you know."

Angus' father sneered. "Don't like the tone you're making. Especially not with you blowing a damn hole in my house."

"Our house, dad. I live here same as you, and you should be treating me like a person and not like some animal."

"Just where do you get off telling us what to do you little shit!"

"This is why you need a more hands-on approach when dealing with him, woman." Having placated his wife for the moment, Mr. Delaney gave his son a malicious grin. "If that's your attitude, boy, then I won't have to hold back this time around."

In one swift motion he reached down, unbuckled and whipped out his leather belt, snapping it with a crack. The missus withdrew a rolling pin in order to join her husband in showing their defiant son a lesson in respect and obedience.

MODELS OF CRUELTY

THE DELANEYS

Neither his father's provocation or weapon had an effect on Angus. For too long he prostrated to parental fear and intimidation. With a loosening of his neck and knuckles, he took a stance for his freedom. For here and now, he was going to conquer these demons with only bear hands (pun definitely intended).

Mr. Delaney came charging with belt raised, but Angus sidestepped and back kicked, catching his father's shin and toppling him forward. The elder bear pushed himself back up onto a knee and whipped his arm around to belt his son. Angus ducked (all that dodge rolling really boosts the reflexes), then straightened up and delivered a right hook to his dear papa's face, followed by a left jab that sent him back onto the floor. At that moment the lady of the house stepped up to pound in his head with the rolling pin, but he kicked up a piece of pantry door and swung it around, catching her waist and knocking the breath out of her.

With his mother winded, Angus performed a sweet roundhouse kick with his kid legs and sent his tyrannical ma flying… about two feet. But it was still enough to get her to slam against the wall, sending a cascade of knickknacks down upon her head and shoulders from a poorly affixed shelf. This small triumph was short-lived as his father had recovered and struck back with a vengeance, the belt catching the side of his face and leaving a nasty gash. As first blood spilled, rather than recoil from the pain or cry out as any ordinary child would do, Angus instead used the affliction to his advantage. Reaching deep down into himself, he produced an Enraging Mental Photograph of all the injuries and injustices done to him, filling him up with the kind of rage he had long denied in his adulthood, as well as distaste over a certain crappy song's ascension to meme status. Why was the internet so obsessed with such triteness?!

Bolstered with hot-blooded strength, Angus roared and turned on his newly-terrified father. The senior Delaney made to slap with his belt once more, but the Fortunate Son smacked it away with one paw before slamming both paws on either side of his head. Angus then took the liberty to unleash a string of brutal headbutts into his dazed father's face before wrapping his arms around his neck to form a tight chokehold. His mother had recovered and waddled at him with rolling pin raised, only to get a back kick in the thigh that made her flinch. During this window, Angus girded his strength and yanked his father back with a mighty pull, tossing him over with a back throw into his wife.

The cruel couple crashed into a messy heap, but the matron of malice tossed aside her husband and flew back up onto her feet, screeching out with the activation of her own Rage Mode. She charged at her problem child and swung wildly with the kitchen utensil, forcing Angus to bob and weave for his protection. She eventually flung it down at him, and right after he dodged it he found himself airborne as his mother grabbed hold of his shoulders, hefted him up and threw him sideways onto the countertops. His head banged against the upper cupboards and for a moment he was disoriented, but his anger served to rekindle his senses so he could spot his mother coming at him with paws raised to strangle.

Reaching up and taking hold of a cupboard door, Angus yanked hard and ripped it off its hinges, bringing it down squarely on his mother's head right as she got to him. He then kicked her in the collarbone, knocking the mama bear off-balance so that she banged against and fell back onto the table in the center of the room. Angus was about to hop off the counter to get at her, but then he took stock of how she was positioned: laid out over the kitchen table, wide open for anything. His next move flashed into his mind like a Roman candle. An opportunity like this simply couldn't be shirked.

He carefully brought his feet under him, and slowly stood up. He took a moment to line up juuuust right then, patting his arm to further psyche himself up, he leapt, twisted, and delivered a devastating elbow drop into his mother's torso. So devastating, in fact, it split the table in two and created an indent in the kitchen floor once her body made impact, rattling the whole house in the process! A finisher so brutal even Mae would've been impressed.

After a few seconds Angus stood up, brushed himself off, and looked over the breadth of his retaliation: the kitchen a complete disaster zone, both his parents beat down into submission, and only him left standing tall, free, and empowered. His cheek still stung from the hit he took from his father; probably should've trained under Sir Blockner a bit to have better handled that. But the trials of the Gungeon had done its job in making him capable of dealing some oh-so-satisfying justice. Personal justice, rather. No doubt all the noise will alert the neighbors into calling the cops, at which point his parents' cruel activities will be exposed, and Angus more than likely will wind up in Child Protection Services… who will then send him far away from Possum Springs. Meaning he'll never get to meet Gregg, or any of his other friends and acquaintances. But most importantly it'll mean life without his Bug! Shit!

He had been so caught up in exacting vengeance for his childhood traumas he hadn't stopped to consider how it would alter his life down the line. If he had taken some more time to think things out back in the Inner Vault, he might've come up with a more elegant, long-term approach in getting payback. Just goes to show why it's usually a bad idea to act out in anger.

His fretful mullings were disrupted when he heard the groan of his father, who appeared to have regained consciousness and was looking to get himself back up… very slowly. Angus' brain whirred and quickly formulated an outline of a fresh new plan. There was still a chance to get things back on track.

Stepping up to his fallen padre, he grabbed a pawful of hair and pulled up his father's bloodied face. Angus' nose wrinkled; it was a bonafide Pungent Blood Cocktail with all that had spilled from the poor asshole's nose and upper lip.

"Who, what… what in god's name are ya?" he muttered out.

"Your son."

"Huh?"

"Listen." Angus made his firmest bear stare yet. "I don't know why you and mom hate me so much, and I don't want to get into any of that right now. Right now I'm telling the both of you to stop the abuse and behave like actual decent parents."

"And why the f*$^ would we do that, you monster?"

"Because I just proved I can defend myself, and it would look really bad if the authorities were to find out." That put a lid on the elder's defiance, but not without him letting out a grumble. "I'm not saying you have to spoil me or be a super attentive and supportive dad. You don't like me, and I'd be hard-pressed to say something nice about you, so here's a compromise: treat me like a lodger. One that's staying here until I'm old enough to move out and get my own place."

"A lodger whose food and living and education I have to pay for."

"I'll see about getting a job right away when summer rolls around, and every summer and holiday break after that, so I won't ask you for any allowances. Just let me go to school, come back home, and live without hassle. In return, I won't ever say a word to you or mom unless absolutely necessary. I'll keep to myself like always; it'll be like I'm never here."

Father and son locked eyes for a few tense seconds, the younger bear waiting for some kind of response from his sire. Finally, Mr. Delaney let out a disgruntled sigh and said, "Fine. But not a goddamn peep from you, or I'll kick ya out one way or another."

"Understood." Angus let go of his father's hair and stood up. "You should get cleaned up in case somebody comes around. And take mom with you; I'll tidy up the kitchen. It's the very least I can do after all this."

"Damn right it's the very least."

With a groan, Daddy Dearest got himself back on his feet and exited the kitchen, taking a few moments to heft up and carry out his unconscious wife. Alone once more, Angus surveyed the ungodly mess around him: broken table, broken door, smashed porcelain, and a fair amount of blood splatters. Guess he should be grateful his brother wasn't around that day to see this disaster unfold. Taking a deep breath and making a contented smile, he went in search of a broom.

Time will tell if that last ditch bid for reconciliation will pull through and keep the household intact. But given how his parents got away with beating and starving him originally, Angus felt confident that the uncaring nature of his community will keep turning a blind eye. He also couldn't help but harbor some hope that this could incite a sort of rehabilitation between him and his folks. That maybe someday they might resemble something akin to a normal family. Not a particularly loving one, but definitely one with a hell lot more respect. He wasn't sure if it would mean his dad would stick around in later years, or if will encourage him to run out much sooner. Very likely the latter, but it'll be no big loss.

In any case, he got to show his parents a piece of his mind when it actually mattered. And that kind of gratification is worth a (not so) little detour.


Thanks for playing!

You killed the past. The Gungeon remains...