URSUS, XXXX

[Auger is a Old West slang for "the big boss"]

"Hey, hey! Are you gonna say it? Come on, say it!" Wh-What the fuck is he talking about? Who the hell is this!? Looking up at the perpetrator who decided to tackle me to the ground and straddle me, I couldn't tell much about their looks due to the dark hooded cloak that they wore. Their voice sounded uncomfortably soft for a man, and they had some sort of accent, but I couldn't tell what it was to save my life.

"Hi, there~…"

…

"What the fuck!? Get off me, ya shaver!" I throw my hands up on his shoulders and violently push him off me, making him fall to my right.

"W-Woah dude, no—oof!" Having been thrown off-balance, Red Eyes landed softly on the snow with a dampened crunch.

My hands sink into the snow as I push myself off the ground to see the horned man facepalming, most likely donning a frustrated grimace behind that mask of his. Glancing at the person who tackled me over, I am surprised and greeted by an almost childlike face, with hair as white as the snow surrounding us and blood-red eyes that almost glow in the darkness around us. How did I not see those before when he was on top of me?

"Well, who's this?" As my finger pointed at the new figure, I looked back at the leader of the mercenary band, whose name I should probably get soon.

"This is Gilliean, a Sarkaz, specifically of the vampire subrace. He is a valuable member of our group." The leader spoke, holding a hand out towards the now-named Gilliean.

"Aww, thanks, boss Ferrok~! Whoops, did you introduce yourself to him yet? Sorry!" Thanks to Gilliean accidentally name-dropping the leader, I now learned the name of who I'm going to be working with in the future.

"No, Gilliean, I was about to do that…" At this point, Ferrok seemed to be almost fed up or even exhausted with Gilliean's constant talking. I would agree if not for the fact that this is my first time meeting him.

But seriously, a vampire…? I've heard a few stories about them before, but those are simply stories. Something tells me Gilliean isn't exactly like the vampires that are described in those silly stories.

"Anyway, welcome to the group. The rest of my men should be wrapping things up by now." As soon as Ferrok said that, the sound of a firebomb went off in the distance, accompanied by screams of terror.

Before I could ask, Ferrok stopped my line of thinking and said, "It's their version of wrapping things up."

Huh, that's a bit nostalgic…

"Come, let us wait outside the village, we would not want to be burned…" The Auger began trudging off into one of the surrounding alleyways, with Gilliean following right behind him.

Let's go, then…

~⁕~

It was shockingly close to daytime already. Had I slept in later than I thought? The intense light of the flames that engulfed the village made it difficult to see the sun rising over the horizon at first, but as soon as I turned away from the scene, the brightness of my surroundings returned.

As the sun kept rising, a golden light slowly spread over the snowy landscape, which seemed to go on forever. As the night sky gradually changed from indigo to blue, the stars above shone brightly.

"Ugh…" The smell of burning wood and flesh slowly wafted over, ruining my respite despite the bandana I had wrapped around my face. It reminded me of an immolator, an unstable, loud, and burning menace. The smallest amount of perceived movement would send them into a rage, attacking chaotically. Whether it be by knife or by bullet, even the smallest of punctures in their charred skin would cause them to burn even hotter and go into a hellfire blaze fueled by their own short-lived frenzy.

…Nothing a sledgehammer wouldn't fix, although I certainly doubt a sledgehammer would douse an entire village in its flames.

After walking with Ferrok and Gilliean for a while, we eventually arrive at a convoy of... well, those certainly don't look like horse-pulled carriages. Several enormous, dark, angular, and thick chassis sat atop surprisingly small and thick wheels. Some were long and had multiple sets of wheels, while others were shorter and had only four. They were heavily armoured, and the four-wheeled versions even had windows.

…These sort of remind me of, uh… train cars, except not only were they far shorter, but there were no rails or a steam train to pull them along. Just what made these vehicles run and allowed them to carry so much metal?

Actually, hold on a moment... Is it me, or do the larger, longer vehicles resemble… Those motor trucks I read about? They look uncannily similar, as the ones in the newspaper said something about these trucks being a brand-new invention—not even that, they were an idea.

Then again, I cannot forget the fact that I'm not even in my world anymore.

Who knows? For all I know, these vehicles could run on rocks, minerals, or minerals or—

Something lands in the small of my back— "Hey beastboy, have you ever, uh, been in a scrap with another beastboy before?"

"Wha- Jesus!" I instinctively reach for my revolver, my hand firmly lands on the grip, fingers curled tight. I spun around as fast as my body allowed, only to come face to face with Gilliean's grin, which was wide enough for me to see a pair of canines that resembled fangs.

A sigh of relief is breathed out of my lungs as my hand holsters the revolver and parts from it. The same hand also pushes Gilliean's face out of mine. How the hell did he get so close without me even realising? I swear, if I were a White Shirt, I would've tried to fan six shots right into his stomach only to miss all of them.

"Wahah!" Gilliean nearly falls back onto his ass, but he manages to stabilise himself before it happens. "Hehe, you beastboys are a jumpy and paranoid bunch aren't you?" That term again. Ferrok referred to me as a "beastboy" before and it honestly sounds really close to "cowboy"…

I ain't a damn saddle warmer!

"Listen, I don't know a damn thing you're talking about, but are you looking for trouble?" My hand lands back on my revolver, and my eyes harden into a glare for added emphasis. He seems young enough, so I hope that intimidating him will deter him from any future situations like this.

…

"Wow, you looked real cool and dangerous for a second right there! Aww damn! I really wish my PDA wasn't broken so I could snap a photo of that…"

…You've got to be kidding me.

As I was thinking of a different method, Gilliean suddenly seemed to glow—his expression, I mean. I might accept the fact that I'm now in another world, but people turning into a radiant light show might just be a bit too out there.

"Yooo, rest of the gang's here!"

Gilliean swiftly rushed past me towards a decently sized group of hooded figures, many of them carrying crates. I nearly went to ask Ferrok who they were, but then I remembered that they were the rest of Ferrok's band returning from razing a village to its foundation of flaming embers, ashes, and the charred remains of its residents.

A few waves and greetings were sent Gilliean's way, to which he responded in kind, but there was one noticeable exchange that caught my eye.

"Oh hey! Howya doin' Gilliean?" Oh god, another accent that I could barely understand. The voice was female, and her demeanour reminded me of one of the hunters who frequented the pubs and taverns. The hooded woman knelt down and pulled Gilliean's far smaller body towards her with only one arm, while her other clutched some kind of bottle. The spear on her back was the only other visually striking aspect of her silhouette.

"Eck! Oi oi, have you been drinking the booze used for firebombing again?" Gilliean's face tightened as he presumably smelled the alcohol from her breath.

"Oh, um… No~?" Unconvincingly, she attempted to hide the bottle—a firebomb—away from Gilliean's gaze. It was futile as she… accidentally smashed and shattered it against the spear on her back with barely any force…

Huh…

I was thinking about how that happened when I heard another female voice speak. It was a strict and cautious voice this time, only for me to realise that it was the same hooded figure speaking. It seems, in their half-intoxicated state, they are suddenly aware of my existence and have become suspicious of me.

"Hey, Gilliean. Who's the Beastboy cosplayer?" Her accent was pretty much gone, but it didn't sound American or like anything else I could think of.

"Ah, don't worry, Gari. He's with us. But never mind that, what's with this broken bottle behind you, ah?"

"H-Huh? Naww, that's- um-" Gari, now having been knocked out of her scepticism, returned to her somewhat garish ways once more due to Gilliean's fussing.

As the two eventually began sputtering and bickering, I turned my attention towards Ferrok, who had been silently observing us this whole time. However, once he saw me looking, he simply nodded his head up towards the vehicles, which I assumed was him telling me to get in the back.

…

Uh, how the hell am I supposed to get in…?

~⁕~

"So let me get this right: There were almost zero to no duels that occurred where you're from. Nothing." Gilliean sat next to me, huddling up right into my arm. This was not only uncomfortable in the sense that there was little to no space in the back of this truck, but also because, if I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to pickpocket me or even trying to stab me in the back.

"No." We were currently sitting next to a bunch of crates and boxes of supplies tied to the floor. Before everything became cramped, I had a little look into one of these crates and discovered many rations and some crossbow bolts of some kind, although they seemed a bit big…

Anyway, I was now doing an inventory check to see how much ammunition I had left. There was thankfully just enough space for me to comfortably count so as not to disturb any of the other people.

Speaking of people, when the rest of the cloaked band got comfortable in the back of the truck, they uncloaked, revealing a plethora of alternative ears and extra limbs. This group is becoming an eyesore…

Unnaturally diverse, and almost painfully colourful to boot. It's like a children's colouring sheet, the types of ears I could make out were horns, bear ears, cat ears, wolf ears, and even feathers. Despite the diversity, there was a clear majority of horned individuals. The majority of the horns were thin or small, dark in colour, and curved upward. However, there were a few that were thicker and more angular in shape, pointing forwards similarly to Ferrok's.

"Ehhh? Seriously? Come on, surely at least one beastboy pissed off another enough. Or maybe they got so drunk that they sparked a tavern brawl!" The vampire, on the other hand, persisted. God damn, he's so annoying…

"If that was the case, then they'd be shot where they're standing. And where I'm from, somebody dying required a lot more cleanup than usual, as you'd expect, boy. We were all busy doing our jobs. And before you ask about people getting drunk, you walk yourself onto a dangerous path when you decide to get yourself snapped. One clumsy step and a fall down Angel's Landing are all that await you. 'Besides that, there is little honour in the bayou anymore." Although it was uncommon, a fellow hunter dying—especially another hunter—in a populated zone was a big nuisance, as not only did that increase the chance of another casualty, but the bodies had to be quickly burned... for some reason. It's a good thing that people had the decency to not be a massive shanny, but if worst came to worst, any lantern nearby was good enough.

"Awwwh such a downer, c'mon, beastboy. Haven't you at least like... I dunno, performed some kind of great heist before?"

"For the last time, stop calling me that; I'm from Louisiana, and we were called bounty hunters—not the ones you are probably used to. A job like "beastboy" wouldn't be hunting monstrous creatures that lurk in the shadows. Insidious, powerful, hungry, and waiting." I looked up from the ammunition on my lap and took a quick glance at Gilliean's face to gauge his expression. He seemed to be finished, so I returned to counting.

Ten, twenty, thirty—

And then he fucking spoke up again. "Wait, you're from another world, right? How's—"

"How about this? Ya seem to be the type to talk about everything to anyone who will lend an ear. It will be way less of a hassle if I just answer everything the next time we set up a campfire, alright? Now please leave me in peace; I need to count my bullets."

The vampire made some sort of sound, but I was too preoccupied with keeping track of the bullets to observe his facial expression.

After a moment of silence, Gilliean finally surrendered his relentless onslaught of questions, conceding with a defeated "alright…" before letting go of my arm. I glanced up to see the nonplussed expression of the rest of the band. Neutral faces all around, except for one: a cold, emotionless stare from blue eyes on top of porcelain skin framed by long, brown hair. Her cat ears were sharp, pointy, and equally brown in colour.

What's her problem…?

Continuing with my inventory check, I ended up with a total of forty-seven shotgun shells and sixty-six pistol rounds. Man, am I glad that I took the time to save ammo back then! For some reason, other hunters took so few bullets and risked time for a well-placed shot, giving them the slower hand. But regardless of how many bullets you have, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

Fuck, what am I supposed to say about the whole different world part? Ah, I might as well just say only what I need to, then.

Written by Alvuint.

Edited by Eidolic.