Braylon's PDA went into action right after the battle. Taking care of an injured body was no easy task, even for such a device. Nanobots had to be guided through the veins, painkillers and medicine had to be measured, wounds had to be cleaned and closed. All while making sure to be as cost-effective, in terms of available resources, and efficient as possible. The hardest part of the job would be taking care of the inflicted psychological trauma caused by a conflict with a metaphysical concept-turned-being. At least its owner was unconscious during most procedures, lost in a deep and much-needed sleep.
When he awoke, Braylon found himself in a different place. Blinking away the blur, he stared at the wooden ceiling with a solemn expression. The pain came when he tried to move his neck. His body convulsed briefly before lapsing into come yet again. It was morning when he woke up again. The wooden ceiling was still the same, with its cracks and dry brown color.
"Where am I?"
Even the furniture was made of wood. Table, chair, door… Handmade, though of above-average quality. The red blanket placed on him was warm, but itchy. Under it lay his naked body, stripped of the clothes he stole. Conclusion? Someone must have brought him into their house and tended to his wounds.
"At least I can move again…" he sighed, "This is really getting out of hand."
Bright sunlight blinded him momentarily as he rose from the bed. Two birds passed by the window on the opposite side of the room.
"The sun is out already?" He checked his PDA, itself in the process of calculating and adapting for the display of the planet's time. "Morning? What even happened?"
"You won, that's what happened. Even though calling it a victory would be insulting to everyone's intelligence... aside from stealing merit."
Braylon's mind briefly flashed back to the encounter that confined him to the bed.
"Is... is it dead?"
"No."
"What?! But I killed it! I know I did!"
"Ha! As if mortals are able to truly kill anything. Please, all you did was depriving my brother of a body."
His hands trembled, squeezing the blanket as if trying to choke it.
"So... all that pain, that urge to keep fighting, the idea that I could defeat an immortal being... was all for nothing?"
"Of course! What, did you honestly think a worm like you could kill a being higher than yourself? Even your whole concept of killing is a farce."
He clenched his teeth and growled.
"Ever since their creation, mortals were limited to destroying physical bodies. Anathema may love you, but I doubt he is foolish enough to allow you to kill each other in the true sense of the word. You are already enough of a problem as it is."
"So you are basically saying he will come back?"
"Oh, he will alright. For a decade or two. Perhaps longer. Until then, he will have to endure everyone's mocking and laughing. It will probably build enough hatred for him to torture you in the most painful of ways before he decides to send you back down here, where he will keep torturing you for the rest of eternity."
His head fell. "Then what's the point in fighting anyways?"
"Unless you want to see your own kind suffer under the Dark Lord's rule..."
"...You really know how to push buttons."
"When you have a whole eternity, you get lots of time to practice many things."
He sighed and closed his eyes. "Right."
A creak of the wooden door tensed his muscles. A green eye peeked through the expanding slit. It belonged to the very girl he had rescued. She seemed confused at first, turning cheerful the moment she understood that he was awake and staring at her. After swinging the door open, her happiness became embarrassment the moment she understood that he had removed the sheet and was now naked for the whole world to see.
"O-oh, sorry... I didn't know..."
Braylon asked for clothes before the situation turned even more awkward. He later asked for a belt, which she had to go and search for, returning five minutes later.
"My grandpa said he would be happy if you take it. Looks good on you too."
He muttered a "thanks" as he put on the belt, sneaking a few glances at her animal ears. He wasn't sneaky enough, obviously, and the girl immediately went on the defensive.
"What? What is it?"
"N-nothing, just…"
"Just what?" she crossed her arms and pouted.
"A… are those… on your head…?"
"Animal ears?"
"Real?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, I…"
"You don't like the Faunus?"
"Fau-what now?"
"Forget it. If I knew you were one of those racists, I would have let you die back there."
"No, wait!" he yelled as she turned around to leave, "I… forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you in any way. I'm just… I've never seen… someone like you… before…"
He wasn't sure if his current strategy of feigning ignorance would work. He also wasn't sure whether this "Faunus" was a common race or not. All he had available now, he believed, were lies.
"Jesus, I came on this planet like a day ago and I already have to manipulate people…"
"Wait, you've never met a Faunus before?" she turned around, genuinely curious, "Where are you from again?"
"I… don't know…"
"You don't know where you're from?"
He shook his head.
"You mean you lost your memories or something?"
"I think so?"
"Hmmm… grandpa could help. He is the most educated man in this village, you know? Can you walk? Let's go meet him."
"Oh fuck. This could be a problem."
The old man and Braylon looked each other in the eyes from the opposite sides of the table.
"So you are saying that you don't remember anything of what happened yesterday?"
Braylon knew that it would be harder to lie to him than to the girl. His eyes were sharp and full of wisdom despite the age. He resorted to pleading with his eyes.
"I see. Tammy, can you leave us alone for a minute? We have much to talk about."
The "Faunus" nodded and went somewhere outside the room, tending to her business. Braylon and the grandpa kept the quietness for a little longer, none of them knowing from where to start.
"I would like to thank you for saving my granddaughter, stranger." he began, "She lost her parents when she was really young. She's all I have now."
Braylon nodded to himself, tapping on the table with a finger.
"So she's a Faunus, eh?"
"…Will that be a problem?"
"No, no. I just… never saw one. That's all."
"I see…"
"Actually, I need to tell you something, but I need you to keep it a secret, okay?"
The man's eyebrows went up. Braylon, with a sigh, began telling his story, enough to convey the message that he was not of that world, but not enough to portray the bigger picture. The man listened all the way, not once stopping the monologue, asking questions only when Braylon stopped to take a sip of water from his glass.
"Amazing." he stroked his beard, "Your story is quite amazing. Forgive me for being skeptical, but do you have any proof for your claims?"
Braylon nodded and showed him the PDA, along with some information he thought would act as proof, such as the map of the solar system in which his home planet resides. Still, the man kept his composure despite the realization that he was speaking to alien that looked and sounded like one of his own kind.
"And here I was thinking how aliens would look like those little green people from the movies of my younger days." he chuckled as he leaned back on his chair, "But now we have a different problem. How can I be sure that the information you seek won't be used against my people?"
"What do you mean?"
"How can I be sure that you are not in disguise and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike and enslave everyone?"
"Are we really having this conversation right now?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Would I throw myself into danger for your granddaughter if I were an evil alien conqueror? I'm a human just like you… from a different planet… wow, I now realize how weird that sounds."
"…alright… I just hope I'm not making a mistake here."
In the next half an hour, Braylon learned a lot about the planet, Remnant they called it, and its people. He learned about the four kingdoms and how they were the only remaining bastions that kept humanity safe from the threat that were the Grimm, those soulless monsters that would do anything just to get their hands on a human or a Faunus. The old man suggested him to venture into Vale, the city closest to the village, where he would find even more valuable information.
When Braylon asked him why they didn't do anything to kill those Grimm, the old man replied that it was a Huntsman's job.
"Huntsman?"
"Gifted individuals. Humanity's sword aimed at the evil of this world. Handymen capable of doing anything. For a fee of course."
"You… don't seem to like them a lot."
"Heh. I knew many Huntsmen back in the old days. They were all the same. Lusting for money, for power and fame."
"Where are they now?"
"Mostly in a Grimm's stomach. Or in a grave."
Braylon smiled, "Ain't that familiar."
"Do you have Huntsmen too? In your world?"
"Only Vault Hunters. Not even a tenth as pure as your Huntsmen. We're adventurers and mercenaries. Nothing more, nothing less."
"We? Are you a Vault Hunter too?"
"Yep. Though I'm seriously thinking of retirement while I still can. I had my fair share of adventures and I'm sure as hell I don't want more of them."
"You came to the wrong planet then. You will hardly find peace outside those damn walls that surround Vale."
"Believe me when I say that, compared to my home planet, this place is a paradise from what I was able to see."
"Hold on to that thought and come back to me after you've spent a year or two on Remnant."
Braylon chuckled and stood up.
"I'll be happy to do that. Now excuse me, but I don't want to waste this precious sunlight any further. Thanks for your hospitality."
"Wait!" Braylon stopped. "Hold on! I forgot something important! Something very important!"
The village elder suddenly rushed, as much as an old man can, towards a large wooden chest. He opened it and took out a weapon.
"This... some youth found this under a pile of bones in the forest yesterday. My hands are too old for this, but you... it might come handy to you."
Braylon took the gun in his hands. He couldn't believe his own luck when he recognized the weapon as a Jakobs shotgun made years ago, with a cylinder that could hold eight shells. It was no common weapon, but a Striker, a shotgun known for being extremely powerful. He was so happy that he couldn't help himself but smile, despite the weapon being empty.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."
"Don't mention it. You saved my only grandchild after all."
The sudden commotion outside stopped their conversation. Braylon turned around and approached the window on the left of the door. He never had a chance to look outside as a black-furred hand shattered the glass and grabbed him by the throat, dragging him towards its owner who came to view soon after. It was the same type of creature that attacked the bandit camp. Now it was there, trying to forcefully infiltrate into the building through the tiny window with the intent of crushing his skull with a bite. Struggling, Braylon materialized Unforgiven and fired a shot right between its eyes. Not even the mask made of bone could protect it from the bullet at nearly point-blank range. The brains turned into a refined pinkish mist as the cranium exploded like a water balloon.
"Almost tore my head off! Which reminds me..." Braylon immediately materialized his Shield and attached it to the belt. It made a few beeping sounds before creating a barrier that surrounded his whole body.
"Grimm?!" The man trembled. "They never went this far!"
"Can you two hide somewhere?!"
A wall behind the old man came crashing down as another creature barged in like a wrecking ball. It was of the same physical design but with some additional features, such as angular skull and increased height. However the most notable addition were the claws on each hand which, unlike the rest of the bony armor, were dark red, almost like blood.*
Braylon swiftly took aim and fired a bullet into the Grimm's right shoulder. His Shield, known as The Bee, had a special ability that truly made it legendary. Should an owner use a gun while also having The Bee active, with its battery full, the Shield would amplify the bullet's power by a considerable margin. It is because of this ability that a generic, low-quality firearm can turn into a death dispenser when used by a professional.
And yet the bullet had enough force to break through the armor and into the flesh, but not enough to do serious damage. We are talking about a .44 revolver with enough amplified power to fire bullets that could easily compete against an anti-materiel rifle in terms of strength.
"Uh-oh."
The creature took a step back due to the power of the bullet. Then it decided to return the favor by charging at Braylon and smash him into the wall. Even if he felt no pain, thanks to the Shield absorbing all damage that he would have taken instead, he was still in a bad position. Being held by the throat by a bloodthirsty monstrosity was rather unpleasant for the teenager.
Braylon activated the Holo Ripper and shoved it to the Grimm's throat. Even the copious amounts of blood that fell from the wound, staining its shoulder and arm, wasn't enough to make it stop. Instead, the creature roared loudly before turning around and tossing him to the other side of the house.
"Okay, ouch. I felt that through my Shield..." He complained after his body hit the wall and then the ground.
"Grandpa!"
Braylon suddenly heard the Faunus girl's voice as she rushed forward towards the fallen elder. His gaze turned back to the Beowolf. It looked him, then the girl, as if having trouble to decide whom should it attack first. Since the girl was closer, she obviously became the primary target.
"No! Run!"
But it was too late. The Beowolf lunged at the two of them and mutilated their bodies with its red claws and large teeth. He swore he saw it chewing on an arm frantically, like a rabid dog.
"Can't you fucking give me some ammo or something?!"
"I thought you would never ask. Here."
A bright flash appeared at his right. This time it brought a large black case. Seeing that it was still occupied with the girl and her grandpa, he quickly opened it, took one of the six packs of shotgun shells, materialized the Striker and reloaded. The Beowolf turned around just as he finished to place the last shell into the cylinder.
It roared before tackling him to the ground. The claws tried furiously to breach his Shield and dig into his body, shaking him constantly as if he were a plaything. He pushed the Grimm slightly with his legs before firing a deafening shot at it torso. The Shield's battery wasn't full, so the shot served only for knocking it back and cracking the armor. It was only when The Bee recharged completely that the tables had suddenly turned.
Striker is a shotgun that earned its title because it had the means to back it up. With the damage output far stronger than a normal Jakobs shotgun, combined with increased accuracy and minimal bullet spread, you would get the Striker, a 12 gauge shotgun as accurate, and deadly, as a sniper rifle. When you compare a .44 bullet with an amplified 12 gauge shell, even the strongest revolver known to man will feel like a BB gun. So it's not a surprise when the next shot left a gaping hole where the Grimm's heart should have been. After all, such weapons were designed to deal with alien creatures, who are far stronger and resistant than the monstrosity in front of him.
"Not so tough now, huh?!" Even the Beowolf stared at its wound. He could see fear in its eyes.
Not that he cared after what it did.
Third shot detached the left hand, leaving behind a bloody mix of bone and torn muscles.
Click-clack.
"Fuck you!"
Fourth shot turned the right knee into dust. The Beowolf fell backwards, howling in pain.
Click-clack.
"Go on! Scream, damn you!"
It raised the right arm towards him. The same arm soon fell down as the fourth shot split open its stomach.
Click-clack.
"How's that for instant surgery?!"
The howls soon became whimpers of fear. Braylon ended its life by pointing the barrel into the mouth and firing the fifth shot.
It was dead.
He looked over to what used to be the elder and his granddaughter. There was nothing he could do to save them. He was too late to do anything. But he would be damned if he would allow that to happen to everyone else in the village. He reached the black case, grabbed the rest of the shells and headed outside the house.
With the last Beowolf dead, the village became safe once again. The pack consisted of eight individuals, including the two Braylon had killed before. Some had to be tracked down. Others came searching for him. The latter group was the most disturbing, as the Beowolves became very agitated the moment they saw him. He could swear he even saw some of them foaming, as if the urge to kill became uncontrollable.
(Grim Dawn – Lonely Moon)
However, the hunt came with a heavy price. Most of the villagers were heavily injured, if not killed. Several families were ruined because their loved ones were dead. Some buildings were destroyed, as the monsters tried to scratch their way into their insides.
This, in turn, redirected the hatred towards Braylon. The villagefolk thought of him as a Huntsman, something that he was not. Their reasoning came from witnessing his fights with the Grimm and the gruesome ways he killed them. He tried to explain himself, but all he got was stones being thrown at him. There was nothing else to do but to run away. Leaving the village behind, Braylon had no other way but to follow the road. He only stopped running when he was sure the people wouldn't chase him.
The broken moon appeared once again hours later when he travelled to a lake. Its light reflected on the surface of the water, as did the stars. Despite the beauty he had in front of himself, the Vault Hunter decided to sit beneath a tree. He was truly tired of "screwing up" things, he thought, like he did back there. The only thing he needed was some alone time.
But even his alone time couldn't be enjoyed peacefully, as he would start having flashbacks about his past deeds, the horrors he witnessed, and most importantly, Hell. The image he received when he first set foot in that eternal prison would be forever engraved into his memories. It was a point when his mind decided it had truly seen enough. Just remembering the images, most of the times spontaneously, would make his whole body hurt. He was sure that sleep became a luxury he would never be able to afford anymore.
"So... all of it... it's true."
"Correct. From now on, always remember that you know far more than any other mortal. As such, you became a priority."
"But what can I do if I can't even kill one of them?!"
"Better safe than sorry."
"I don't even know where to begin."
"Look. There are only two mortals in the whole creation who are truly able to kill my brothers. They are so effective in their work, that the Anathema himself gave them the power to do it. One of them stopped an invasion by himself and is now trapped into a sarcophagus. The other is still active and much more amusing. Never in my existence had I seen my brothers run away from a mortal with a ridiculous attire and hairless head. Even the enemy camp had a laugh."
The Vault Hunter sighed as he leaned his head to the tree behind him. His PDA displayed the map of Remnant, with a red dot indicating Vale.
"Looks like it's gonna be a long walk... great."
(Minecraft – Cave 4)
Braylon jumped to his feet, grabbed the energy pistol and immediately aimed at the darkness hidden behind few trees and bushes, where he was sure the noise came from. His breathing stopped for a moment as cold sweat ran down his cheeks.
"Grimm?"
Despite being tired from the journey, Braylon was still able to fight if needed. Although, he had to be honest, he really wished that whatever was hiding was anything but another demon like the one he already fought.
Speaking of demons, a paranoid thought sneaked into his mind. What if the giant wasn't dead? What if its hatred was enough for it to hang itself to this plane of existence, seeking revenge on the mortal that injured it? What then? Would he be able to fight?
"Was that... a growl?"
I think it is time I introduce you to a type of monsters I call Heroes. To put it simply, the Heroes are a subtype that can be shared with all creatures, regardless of factions. You can recognize a Hero thanks to its unique features not present in others of its kind (example, all knights have silver armor and iron swords, but a Hero will have a golden armor and two golden swords). Normally these creatures will be much tougher than their common counterparts, hence why they earn special names or titles.
And now for the first questions!
M4PTP: Oh man, I will try to answer as best as I can. So here we go.
a) He will probably be with team RWBY again. As for the antagonism, well, we will see. He will definitely be a party breaker, if that is what you mean. Though as for now, I cannot guarantee anything, as I am still in the first chapters.
b) I am not sure, but probably will. Remember that this is a crossover with both Doom and Borderlands, so you can kinda expect for the darkness to be turned a bit higher than in the original.
c) If there is one thing that I know about writing, is that there were (and still are) a lot of writers out there who dislike their creations, destroy them and start again. I think Camus, though I am not sure, asked his friend to burn all of his works after he died. Luckily, the friend did something completely opposite. I have to be honest, there is not much for me to dislike in the previous story, it's just that I felt like rewriting the thing again. I believe I can write a good fic, and if this means that I have to begin from scratch to improve myself, then so be it.
d) No, no. This is in no way professional. I am simply writing this for fun, so I don't feel like restricting myself to pointless things like professionalism. If I were to reap a profit from this, then it would be a whole another thing entirely. But since I am writing this just because I feel like I want to, and since writing is a form of art, though I don't consider myself an artist, then I experiment. Who knows, it may turn great, it may turn bad, but at least I know that I am able to do it. Hopefully someone will read this and get some kind of inspiration to do an actual work of art, worthy of the old masters.
Hope you are satisfied with the answers. If there is something else you would like to ask, though not something heavily spoiler-related, I will try to answer.
PDA Biopedia:
*Entry #4: Crimsonclaw (Hero)
Type: Grimm – Beast
Faction: Creatures of Grimm
Description: "It is not uncommon for some individuals to be the best of what their species has to offer. Although I couldn't care less, it appears that this Beowolf was very old by the time you fought it. Even among pack leaders, this specimen displayed great strength. My guess is this being one of my brother's work, even though I found nothing that could prove it. Ah well, it is dead anyways."
Arsenal:
Pistol: Energy pistol, Unforgiven (Borderlands)
Shotgun: Striker (Borderlands)
Shield: The Bee