"So, this is the library."
The building stood tall and proud, larger than than any structure nearby. Its walls were reddish-brown in color, with a sign that read "VALE'S PUBLIC LIBRARY". Even if this was his second visit, the Vault Hunter was still amazed at seeing such a work of architectural knowledge. Where on Remnant it was probably another service taken for granted, on Pandora it was unthinkable, something that went against the planet's nature.
That day was his lucky day, Braylon was sure of it. Sure, the walk in the park had that weird, little variable, but he brushed it off as nothing more than a random encounter with a random stranger. He felt happy, albeit constantly under pressure, even slightly on edge. That too, was dismissed. Absolutely nothing could ruin his lucky day, no matter what that tiny, dark side of him whispered in his ear. That dark, horrible, pessimistic side that kept repeating "wait until it all goes tits up" in his ear over and over again. To his chagrin, we will now testify that the day did, indeed, go "tits up".
It all started once our Vault Hunter entered into the library. He was still new to it, because it was his second visit, so getting lost was a normal thing. After passing through five different rows of bookshelves, his anger and frustration rose slightly, unsure where to go.
"I forgot this place is built like a fucking castle. Who even made this shit?"
He stopped walking and began relaxing, using several different techniques. It weirded him out, especially because he never had anger issues, not even in situations where uncontrollable anger was desirable. Finishing the last technique, he continued his exploration of the library. Thirty minutes later, he was nowhere near his desired section, conspiracy books and similar genres, making him angry once again.
"Hey, what's that noise?"
Loud chanting brought him out of his emotional state. It was close, several bookshelves forward. Wanting to see what the fuss was all about, Braylon went to the source of the noise. What he found was a group of people, with one of them on top of a table. Passersby merely glanced in their direction before going away. Strangely, one of them, a man with glasses, refused to move his eyes away from Braylon.
"This cruelty must stop now! We are cutting down trees, the things that give us air for breathing, and for what?! For books! For some stupid dime novels! Come on! Louder! Louder! Save a tree, burn a book!"
Braylon facepalmed, before taking some stairs, passing through several doors and finally reaching the section he so desired. He grabbed several books from various shelves, placed them on the table and started reading. The fanatical screams were nothing but muffled noise now.
Most of the books he took either had information he already knew or were a waste of time. Despair struck him hard as he read every book that he thought it would aid him in his cause, only to toss them aside. One book remained, leatherbound, his last, best hope. It had no names or titles or anything similar. His fingers brushed against the cover right as his nose picked up a very strange smell.
"No way. Don't tell me an idiot is smoking in here..."
Grabbing the book, Braylon went out of the office, only to see a woman standing above a dead Faunus with a gun in her hands.
"What the fuck?!"
She turned around.
"Another fuckin' book-lover! Take that, you enemy of nature!" Braylon ran behind a bookshelf the moment she raised her gun towards him. Two bullets pierced through the weak wall, scattering papers and destroying books. "Come out!"
"Fucking fuck!..." He cursed, stashing the book in his PDA, then taking out Unforgiven. "Wasn't she part of that group of fanatics? I have a bad feeling about this." Three more bullets passed inches above his head. He peeked out of his cover and aimed at the woman, who didn't even bother to seek a shelter, pulled the trigger twice and killed her.
"What the fuck was that about?!" Braylon went towards the nearest door he could find, kicked it open and, to his chagrin, found two more fanatics with guns. He could see behind them, in the other room, bookshelves on fire, before he ran through the same door to hide behind a wall.
(Hotline Miami - Hotline)
"Shit, the library is on fire!" Bullets formed dozens of tiny holes in the wall, one or two hitting his Shield. From the sound he heard, one of them had an assault rifle and one had a shotgun. "You stupid fucks! Couldn't you attack a whaler or something?!" Rather than moving away from his cover, Braylon peeked through one of the freshly-made holes, spotting the shotgun guy running towards the door. "Not today, calfhead!" He placed Unforgiven's barrel in another hole and fired three times, hitting him in the chest.
Not that the other one seemed to care, for he reloaded his gun and immediately opened fire, despite being unable to see Braylon. It was painfully obvious that those fanatics were first-timers with no knowledge of tactics or anything similar. The last bullet in the cylinder made short work of the nuisance's head.
"I didn't go through all the trouble just to die in a fucking library."
He could feel his anger rising as he placed new bullets in his revolver, running towards the arch where the bookshelves burned, hoping to find a way out. Unfortunately said arch crumbled, leaving Braylon no choice but to turn right and go through another arch and into a smaller section. A woman suddenly jumped out from behind a bookshelf, holding a baseball bat. Braylon quickly took the Energy Pistol and pulled both triggers, hitting the woman in her stomach. She screamed as she held her bleeding wound, dropping on her knees. He placed each barrel to a different side of her head and fired, ending her life.
Moments later, a bookshelf on the other end of the room crashed down, revealing a woman holding a petrol bomb. She shouted profanities before throwing the bomb at Braylon, setting him on fire. What the woman didn't know was the fact that fire was ineffective against Shield-protected targets. Her shock was impossible to contain, seeing one burning Vault Hunter pointing his guns at her and firing, before her world went dark.
"...bitch." He muttered while still burning like a human-sized torch. Passing through another arch, Braylon reached a hallway where he found four fanatics standing close to a curved staircase. Much like the woman before them, they were scared when they saw Braylon running towards them, guns continuously firing until he killed them all. The fires on his Shield died down after he went downstairs. Nothing bothered him until he reached the same place where he found the group before they set the library on fire. The table was turned, acting like a wall for the last remaining resistance, a group made of two men with rifles and one woman with petrol bombs.
"That table made of rotten wood won't save you from me!"
"Fuck you, tree hater!"
Before anyone of them could do anything, Braylon used his Energy Pistol to blow up one petrol bomb, setting them all on fire.
"Ha, that's too hot for me to handle. I'm out."
The very last fanatic he faced was right near the exit. Killing them with two shots of his Energy Pistol, Braylon ran out of the burning building, making sure to hide his guns from the sight of the civilian crowds that gathered together to watch the disaster that struck their city. The firefighters were already present, trying to save whatever remained of the library, just like doctors and ambulances tried to help the victims.
Most people failed to acknowledge his presence, instead focusing on the bigger issue. Those who did were mostly journalists or people that tried to take photos of him. Luckily, the police came to prevent any talk with the Vault Hunter, making him free to go away. As he was about to leave the area, his eyes casually glanced towards an alleyway. There, he saw the man with the glasses, once again observing his movements. He frowned as the figure retreated into the darkness.
"Looks like there is more to that fire than I previously thought."
With the library out of order, our Vault Hunter decided to visit various shops around Vale. Most of his destinations were gun shops or technology-related, as other things weren't exactly in his range of interests or needs. Although he allowed himself to enjoy inspecting the latest weapons and gadgets on the market, his mind constantly returned to when he saw the glasses-wearing man, after he ran out of the library. Every so often his eyes would catch a glimpse of a silhouette on the roofs or a hooded person following him. Braylon speculated who "they" were, although he decided to act dumb and pretend he never saw anything suspicious, just to see where exactly "they" were going with their precious little act.
"Are they trying to ambush me? Maybe waiting for an opening?"
Some time later, he stumbled upon yet another shop, one of many he saw that day, owned by an old Faunus. To be more precise, he stumbled upon the old Faunus himself, watching and cursing a broken display window. His dog ears twitched slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps, making the man move his head towards the stranger.
"Fuck's sake, honestly!" The man complained. "First those fucking Ferals! And now a goddamn human?"
"I'm… sorry?"
"Nah, it's alright, it's alright. Excuse me, I shouldn't talk shit with a potential customer."
Braylon followed the man into the shop. It was small, smaller than many, with gun posters attached to dark green walls. One ceiling fan provided somewhat fresh air while one light bulb on the wall behind the counter was its only source of light. Guns were displayed on the right wall, each painted in different colors.
"Forgive me if I ask, but what happened here?"
"Ferals, that's what happened."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"How could you? You are a human. Humans don't bother with our problems."
"Well, this human wants to hear it all. So go ahead."
"...You sure you didn't come here to purchase something? Alright, don't give me that look. You might wanna sit down first." The owner pointed at a chair in the corner. "Fucking youngsters these days. They all act like a woman. No matter what she does, it's not wrong. So you can see these people… they have no remorse for what they're doing, you know? And then you wonder why people hate us so fucking much. I'm not talking about you now."
The owner took a chair and sat down. "Let me point something out. Being a Faunus is hard. It always was and always will be. It's not necessarily tied to how humans see us. Personally, I know how much of a bitch life can be. I bet other people know too. However, what many, especially nowadays, don't understand, is that without a sweaty forehead, without your spine hurting like a bitch, you will never have anything. Some twist this further, they take it like this, and twist it so fucking much, it's disgusting. These people like the easy way out, which most often ends up with the fucking gravedigger rubbing his hands. In case you're wondering "what the fuck is this old fart talking about", I am explaining crime to you. That, and those motherfucking Ferals."
"Now I understand what you're thinking; he is a Faunus, how can he say that? Well, start living as a Faunus long enough and you will understand what's the difference between a Faunus and Feral. If you don't, I'll gladly explain it to you, because I am sick and fucking tired of people, especially humans, who put us all in the same basket because they see this lowlife son of a bitch stealing or killing someone, who happens to look just like me."
"Here, if we send to jail all these faggots and jackasses, who are born by these jackass single mothers, who give them shitty names, if you have no fucking clue who made this waste of oxygen, because you fucked five or six guys in a row, yet you bring him in this shitty world, even if you are piss-poor, you are a fucking whore! Then they find some beta provider, some poor excuse of a man, to help that kid grow up, only to dump them on the street, repeating the cycle."
"Can't the police do something about this?"
"The police? Heh, they are only good for when you need to wipe your ass after taking a shit. When it happens to people like me, they pretend they are blind. Meanwhile, these Ferals are free to walk on the streets, ruining everyone's life. I have this problem, son. Right now I am dealing with a group of Ferals, who like to fuck with me, whenever they feel like it. But they don't do shit to stop crimes like this. They can't even educate children in their own fucking neighborhood. But they can jerk off all day until they go "oh, let's fuck shit up", so they come here, steal my shit, break few things, go away and nobody gives a damn! That's what they do, trying to fuck with me, trying to destroy everything I built with my own damn hands! For years!"
"Years? That long?"
"Yes! Five years, ten years… these motherfuckers didn't give a shit about me. Right until I got my life together, after so fucking long, after raising two children, when a Faunus like me gets his life together… motherfuckers show up to destroy it. Same thing you have here. Ferals! Show up to fuck shit up! It's all these Ferals do! Never once in my life I saw them build anything. They need a fucking slave owner, or whatever its legal equivalent exists nowadays, to force them to do something productive!"
"So basically, Ferals are to Faunus what Niggers are to these civilized, rational black people."
"I have no idea what are you talking about, but yeah. Same thing."
"And here I thought my reality was fucked up. So what you want me to do?"
"You?" The man raised his eyebrows. "Not a chance, son. I've seen how fucked up these Ferals are. Probably junkies by now. I don't want a dead kid on my conscience."
"I'm a V… Huntsman."
"You serious?"
"Well, Huntsman-in-training is more precise… but yeah."
"So… you are saying you can get rid of them for me?"
"For a price of course."
"Son, after all this torture I've been through with Ferals, I am also willing to give you a gun."
"Really?"
"Sure. Really good stuff. Saved it for some really serious customers. But I 'll be damned if I won't give it to you as a reward. Knock some sense into those fuckers, teach them a lesson or two, and I'll give it to you."
"Don't worry, I have my own method of dealing with problems like this. I guarantee they won't bother you ever again. By the way, where can I find them?"
"Most Ferals like to stay in Mazon's District. A bumfuck part of Vale, right near those damn walls. It's a shithole occupied by hobos and Ferals alike. You want to look for a kid named Vester, a donkey Faunus. Heh, suits him just right."
"I need something before I go."
"What?"
Vigilantism on Pandora used to be a widespread phenomenon in years past. Back when banditism reached it peak, its "golden age", people loved taking vengeance in their own hands, either forming groups or going solo against the first bandit camp they could find. Many met painful deaths at the hands of some of the most merciless monsters in the history of humanity. Some were under-equipped, others too ambitious for their own good. All of this, somewhat, calmed down after the appearance of the first Vault Hunters. They, along with the invasion of Hyperion Corporation, drastically reduced the number of bandit tribes and gangs.
This is one of the reasons why people saw Vault Hunters as heroes. They killed bandits, driven out Hyperion and hunted down any wildlife that became problematic. Vault Hunters were people who could go against everyone and everything, only to come out alive and victorious. People even started making myths about them, often blurring the line between reality and simple imagination. For example, one myth described Vault Hunters as some kind of chosen warriors, which would explain why are they so successful where others can never hope to be. In reality, every Vault Hunter has a different explanation for why they are so lethal. According to Braylon, one such explanation, although he had many, involved around people accepting truths and acting according to them, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Due to our lack of time, we will only examine one of them, one that explains what exactly is a bandit.
In almost ninety percent of all cases, a bandit is nothing more complex than cannon fodder. The reason why they got this seemingly impenetrable aura of ferociousness and lethality is because of their frequent attacks on civilians, who are very easy to intimidate. It all comes crashing down once a bandit comes across a Vault Hunter, or anyone else who has any kind of battle experience. In such encounters, trash-talk and screaming Psychos can do very little against such an opponent. They can pretend they are war veterans all they want. But in truth, they are simply out of their element.
His arrival in Mazon's District wasn't one with open arms or a welcoming party. At first, there was silence as the van, borrowed from the shop owner, drove through the jungle of fossilized buildings, completely different from the initial splendour that Vale fabricated in his eyes. Once he got deeper, he began seeing the first inhabitants. Hobos standing around a barrel, small children running on the sidewalks, elderly women looking down from their windows. And just like that, all admiration Braylon had for Vale was gone, realizing it was like every other city in existence; a beehive of wealthy individuals surrounded by a wall of poverty which, depending on the situation, acted as an actual wall.
Not having previous knowledge about the place, our Vault Hunter had to ask around for this "Vester". Easier said than done, for many were difficult to deal with. He even had to beat up those who were more problematic and seeking for trouble. After a while, he knew everything he needed to complete his job.
Mazon's District was divided into several territories, each owned by one gang. The one called "Vester" was a leader of the "White Tigers". Your typical bunch of societal waste, leeching off those living inside their territory by asking money or goods in exchange for protection, which is so poor, it might as well be nonexistent. Although their equipment comes from robbed stores, it is often junk-tier, because most members are too messed up, thanks to heavy abuse of drugs or alcohol, to ever bother taking care of them. Despite this, they were still able to fend off anyone dumb enough who had nothing better to do but to try expanding their territory. In other words, your generic bandit tribe on Pandora.
The van had to go, Braylon figured. Although he was planning to go guns blazing right into the gang's headquarters, doing so with a vehicle was an excellent recipe for disaster. So he had to take a walk, after he hid the van in some abandoned ruins. While walking, his mind returned to the shop owner's request. When he said "knock some sense into them" he probably thought Braylon would beat them up. If so, he chose poorly, because Braylon had something else in his mind. He wondered what would be the shop owner's reaction should he find out that Braylon was a serial killer, according to Remnant's standards. But then again, he doubted any nation on Remnant sends its own people to jail just because they tried to defend themselves against robbers… or banned knives.
White Tigers' headquarters was in far better shape than Braylon previously thought. Where he imagined yet another dull, decaying and overall depressing structure, he instead found a dark green apartment-like stronghold with a missing roof and somewhat exposed top floor, where a flag hanged from a balcony and loud music played for everyone to hear. Said flag was completely white, save for the tiger's head, which was black just like the four quatrefoils that surrounded it.
Before he went in, Braylon examined the stronghold from the surrounding structures. It had a garage to its side that came with a small parking lot. Omni-Cannon's scope revealed a white van standing outside the open garage, where one thin Faunus unloaded small cardboard boxes while the other, possibly the driver, stared at something inside said garage, smoking like a chimney. There were also two smaller cars parked outside, each decorated beyond common sense, signaling they were propriety of the boss himself. Braylon couldn't ask for a better situation, knowing that he would never again get such a perfect arrangement.
"Time to put some fear of God into these people."
(Home – Above All)
Jumping over protective walls, Braylon silently hid behind one of the cars, waiting for the thin Faunus to turn around. He sneaked up on the driver, snapped his neck and moved forward, closing the distance between the other Faunus and himself. When he was close enough, he grabbed a wrench from a toolbox and struck the unsuspecting criminal. The first blow sent him on the ground. Other three broke his head.
What he didn't expect was someone opening the door that led into the building. Panicking as the piece of wood slowly moved away, Braylon decided to to toss the wrench at whoever thought it was good time to be an inconvenience. A female Faunus suddenly yelped as the metallic object hit her in the head. Stunned, her double vision noticed a strange figure approaching her, before landing its foot on her face.
As soon as Braylon crushed the Faunus' skull with his leg, he suddenly felt heat emanating from the now-glowing gem on the pendant, vanishing as quick as it came. Braylon saw red. He watched his hands, now trembling with rage of a person dedicated to extermination of everything living in its surroundings.
"I will… I will fucking kill them all! Rip their hearts out!"
He wanted to scream, to unleash his newly-acquired emotional instability. Thankfully another Faunus opened the same door, complaining about the loud noise. It took several seconds for his brain to process what it was looking at. Those few seconds of inactivity were exactly what Braylon needed, for he kicked the Faunus so hard it hit the wall behind itself, sliding down like a worm. Another kick turned its head into a bloody mess.
Braylon stopped caring about his plans. He simply wanted to see blood more than anything else. Moving his head, he noticed several options. A staircase, one arch that led into a room, two doors that led into other rooms and one door for the outside, which he immediately discarded as a choice. Braylon turned right, attracted to the moaning he heard coming from the room with the arch. There, he saw a couple making out on a couch. He ran towards them, gaining the attention of the male Faunus, who raised his head. His fist went straight for the Faunus' face, pulverizing the nose and drawing blood as the skull caved in. The female screamed for half a second before Braylon grabbed her by the neck and, with his free hand, tore away her jaw.
"Hey, tone it down over there! People can't even take a shit without hearing you two?!"
Letting her choke on her own blood, he turned his head towards a door as he heard a toilet flush. He broke the door, heading straight for the scared criminal scum. Grabbing his face with just one hand, our Vault Hunter sped forward until he crashed the Faunus' head into the wall, squashing it against said wall's surface.
"Fucking beasts… I will teach you a lesson you won't forget."
Barging into one of the two remaining rooms, he found a Faunus in overalls with a drill in his hand, likely trying to fix something. After knocking him on the ground, our Vault Hunter grabbed the drill and pierced his forehead, one hand preventing him from screaming. He then grabbed a pair of scissors from the small table and went towards the other room, opening the door so fast that the last two gang members still alive on that floor were taken by surprise. Braylon quickly slit the throat of one and stabbed the other in his left eye, killing them both.
Going upstairs, a woman could be heard complaining about the strange noises downstairs. Braylon materialized Striker and waited until he heard footsteps coming close enough to the door in front of him.
Bang.
The cries of surprise and horror, coupled with creative curses were music to Braylon's ears. Kicking the door, he could see the scenery for himself. A woman lay on the ground, her stomach torn open, blood and organ bits everywhere. The entire floor was one large room, equipped with a billiard table, a darts board, a couch on the far right corner of the room, opposite of Braylon's current location, a table with few chairs and even a tiny kitchen section to his right. Aside from another set of stairs, there was also a glass door that lead to a balcony on the left side of the room.
"Motherfuckin' sunuva bitch!" A rabbit Faunus that occupied the couch screeched as he took out an SMG lookalike from the floor. Braylon, before the Faunus could fire, grabbed the nearby girl, who couldn't stop crying and used her as a shield.
"Stop firing you fucking faggot!" Another shouted. "Gods, you killed Mindy!"
Braylon placed the Striker's barrel at "Mindy's" stomach and pulled the trigger. The pellets not only pierced through the body of his meat shield, they also killed the Faunus on the couch. After that, he carelessly tossed the corpse aside.
"You cocksucker!" One owl Faunus went at Braylon with a hatchet while two picked cue sticks. A fourth grabbed a steak knife and the fifth ran towards the glass door. He shot one of the two with cue sticks and buttstroked the other. Dematerializing Striker, all attention went to the hatchet user. It took little effort in disarming the Faunus. Wishing to treat Owl with his own medicine, he swung the hatchet; first at his left hip, then at his head, right before kicking him away. The one with the steak knife shook like a leaf, refusing to be as brave as his comrades. Wise choice.
But what came next wasn't so wise. The other nuisance with the cue stick came behind Braylon and swung with its not-so-threatening weapon. He didn't see the reactions when the stick broke as if it hit the wall, while Braylon suffered no damage thanks to his Shield. Poor bastard was so scared when the Vault Hunter slowly turned around, that he simply grabbed what remained of the stick and shoved it through the bastard's heart.
"F-fuck! Stay the fuck away from me!"
Braylon stopped listening. After he punched the coward, he grabbed their head and pushed it down into the oven, but not before making sure they couldn't use hands or legs to escape. So after he crippled them, he activated the oven, giving the coward a taste of Hell even before they went there.
"Holy fuck!"
In his desire to kill everyone in the room, he completely forgot the fifth White Tiger, who just came into the room with a rifle. And while this Faunus was busy staring at the dead corpses and listening muffled screams that came from the oven, Braylon nonchalantly went towards the darts board to pick a dart.
"C-come quick, Jasmine! This guy is fucking insane! He-"
The White Tiger stopped talking once a dart found itself at the side of their head. After that, a female Faunus came inside, holding two katanas.
"So you are the one who made this mess..." She looked around, forgetting the fact that Braylon grabbed the board. "Damn, I would fuck your brains out right now. Too bad you – oof!" He threw the board like a frisbee, stunning her enough for him to punch her in the stomach and take her katanas, which he used to impale her her breasts, before picking her up and tossing her off the balcony.
Because there was nothing alive on that floor, Braylon went upstairs, where he found a gym with only three White Tigers present; one fat elephant, one dog and one monkey. All three of them noticed him at the same time and none were friendly. In fact, they all realized what happened below, so their reaction is understandable. Elephant gave Dog and Monkey precedence, before he comes to finish the job. None of them could even imagine what kind of monster was unleashed on them all.
Dog was the first to die, when the Vault Hunter used a heavy dumbbell to break his head. Monkey wanted to help Dog, but Holo Sabre cut him into pieces. Elephant was somewhat a pain at first. All that lard was hard to pierce through with nothing but fists. True, he could use weapons, but we can all agree that this Braylon is not the one we all know and love. At one point, Braylon became so angry that he brought Elephant to his knees, grabbed the sides of his head, stuck his thumbs into Elephant's eyes and, with a barbaric cry, tore his skull apart.
With Elephant's death, something changed. Braylon blinked multiple times, his expression turning from murderous rage to utter confusion, before puking his soul out. All that explosive savagery disappeared without a clear explanation. "Christ almighty. Where the fuck did all of that come from?! I lost control of myself!" He looked at the corpses, although he wished he didn't. The way he mutilated the Faunus made him think he lost his mind for a moment. He still felt angry, although to a much, much lesser degree. "Shit. Need to finish the job first, then worry later."
Mentally patting himself on the back, Braylon went on the fourth floor of the building. It only consisted of a hallway with two doors, guarded by two fat Faunus. Both of them took considerable amount of bullets from Ajax's Spear before dying. Each door led to a different room, one filled with mutilated corpses, the other with imprisoned women. He let the women go and reached the final floor. Opening the door, Braylon saw a donkey Faunus, sitting on a couch on the balcony, with two Faunus women at his side. Two more sat near a small table to his left, either injecting or smoking various drugs. A large radio was stationed on the right, which Braylon destroyed with a shot of his Unforgiven, scaring everyone except Braylon and the donkey Faunus.
"Are you Vester?"
"And who the fuck are you? How the fuck did you come up here?"
"Acting tough, eh? Everyone's dead downstairs. Whole place is one giant graveyard."
"Bullshit." He could see Vester's cowardice slowly surfacing.
"Then go see for yourself."
He looked at the two women beside him, then back at Braylon. "What do you want from me?"
"Little birdie told me you acted like a dick around decent people. As far as I can tell from what I found downstairs, you and your cell warriors are worse than Niggers. Hell, at least one of those hoodie-wearing bastards is decent enough to put a bullet in your head after he steals your wallet. But you… fuck's sake, death penalty is the least of your worries."
"So you're a flatfoot."
"If I were a flatfoot, I would come here with a fucking go-kart and ask your loicense for everything, dumbass."
"Tell the dumbfuck who hired you that-" Braylon took out Unforgiven and shot all four women Faunus. Vester's reaction was the one he banked on. "What the fuck!"
"Yeah. I'm not known to have mercy for bandits. Guess who's next."
Vester began sweating, eyes wide and mouth agape.
"P-please, man! I beg you! Have mercy!"
"I would rather beg the one who's gonna judge you for all sick shit you've done, if I were you."
Pulling the trigger once more, Braylon killed Vester with a shot to the head.
"And done."
Next to the pile of drugs, there was an open black suitcase containing crystals of different shapes and colors. "Is this what I think it is?" He grabbed one red crystal to examine it further.
One word was almost always frequent in the library's books and in casual conversations between students at Beacon: Dust. We are not talking about particles of dirt and waste. Dust, apparently, refers to a substance that naturally occurs on Remnant and is the most exploited resource in all nations. From what he read and heard, Dust was so versatile, so practical, it is used in almost everything people of Remnant ever created, to the point their civilization became dependant. It could as well be God's miracle given form.
Dust had different effects, depending on colors, that can be activated if it is used in any kind of chemical reactions, that much he knew. He also knew the effects of four colors: fire is red, lightning is yellow (strangely enough), steam is gray and ice is dark blue, which were also the types of Dust he took to study them at Beacon. The logic behind color-coding was confusing to him, but for now it was harmless, because he never used it from the day he came to Remnant.
(Atrium Carceri – Catacombs of the Forgotten)
"My, what a mess." Braylon instantly turned around. "I wonder who will clean-up this place later."
With the speed of lightning, his hand grabbed Unforgiven, ready to take it out from the holster. But the strange figure, a man wearing a black tuxedo, raised one of his hands, away from the walking stick.
"Now, now. I didn't come here to harm you. Not yet."
"Do I know you?"
"Everyone does." He stroked his brown goatee.
Braylon suddenly felt it again, the overwhelming emotion that manifests every time he comes in contact with the demons. But now, it wasn't fear. No, it was replaced with anger.
"Wait, you are..."
"Correct!" He pointed his stick at Braylon. "Took you long enough."
"I see you aren't hiding your true nature anymore."
"I don't need to. All thanks to you, of course."
His hands began trembling. "You came here to mock me? Make fun of me?"
"I just wanted to see the human who helped me and my brothers, that is all." The figure replied calmly. "Looks like I was wrong. Mortals can be useful."
"Leave. Now."
"You are in no position to make any demands, boy." That arrogant smile on the figure's face made Braylon's blood boil. "Better think how many lives you ruined today."
"Motherfucker! They would've never be what they are if you bastards left us alone! You are responsible for all of our suffering! For all this evil!"
"Nice way to blame others for your stupidity. Is it my fault you bought every lie we ever told you?"
"I won't repeat myself. Leave."
"…or what?"
Braylon roared as he charged at the figure, but stopped once his fist passed through the laughing figure.
"You actually made me laugh, I'll give you that."
He retreated, angrier than before.
"You will see, I will find a way to fix this mess and send you back to where you belong."
"You? Hahahaha!" The figure laughed even more. "I've been in this line of work for a very long time. I know you all better than you know yourselves! Not even Father's chosen were safe from me! And you think you can stop us? Stop being delusional, you poor excuse of a mortal."
Braylon didn't know what to do at that point. He couldn't combat or talk his way out from that problem. However, his mind reminded him he had one trump card at his disposal. He didn't knew his bluff would work or not, but it was worth a shot, so he took out the copper ring.
"We will see how you will laugh after I use this!"
The figure's euphoria died down frighteningly fast, replaced by a serious look.
"Where did you get that?"
"Is this really working? I think you already know the answer."
"You had your fun, mortal. But enough is enough. If you decide to be a tick, I will be more than happy to get the proper medicine. And just to prolong your agonizing existence, I suggest you pick up that thing near your feet."
Braylon glanced down, then up. The figure was gone and his anger returned to "normal". But there was, in fact something near his feet; a black pamphlet with a strange red symbol, consisting of a wolf head with three claw marks. He went to pick it up when a bullet zoomed few inches above his head.
(Dance With the Dead – Poison)
"Fuck!" He swore as he quickly lay on the floor, crawling towards the couch. "Who fired that? Looked like it came from somewhere outside..." For a moment, his eyes caught a silhouette in one of the windows of a building, on the other side of the street. Omni-Cannon in hand, Braylon searched for the hitman, hoping he had a clear shot. Meanwhile, his PDA warned him it caught a radio conversation.
"Has the target been shot?"
"Negative. He moved seconds before I pulled the trigger."
"Lucky bastard. Where is he now?"
"Not sure."
"Auf Wiedersehen."
A silenced bullet hit the person in the head. Rather then killing it, the person's head snapped backwards as some strange light enveloped its frame.
"A Shield? So these are..."
"Fuck!"
"What is going on?"
"I've been hit. Shield is depleted."
"Hide and wait. A group went inside. If you see him, don't hesitate to shoot."
"Copy that."
"You people chose a bad day to piss me off."
Braylon picked up the pamphlet, switched Omni-Cannon for Ajax's Spear and ran downstairs, where a group of people wearing green helmets and armor waited for him on the third floor, known as Marines.* They were led by one man in bulkier armor, holding a sword and a pistol. **
"Open fire!" He ordered. Soon the whole gym echoed with the sound of gunfire, both parties exchanging lead. Two Marines were killed rather quickly. Braylon's Shield took several hits too, since cover was poor. While the squad was busy shooting, he picked a tiny dumbbell and threw it across the room. It failed to hit anyone, but they were forced to move away, which was exactly what he wanted, as he got free rein to kill two more Marines, leaving the leader alone.
The Hyperion pistol that man used was not a piece of junk, as it had good rate of fire along with it's trademark recoil. A gun for professionals, one might say, something its owner wasn't. He ran towards Braylon while also firing with the pistol. Maybe he was relying too much on his armor, because he lacked a Shield. It proved to be a fatal mistake, however, as Braylon swapped his current weapon with Excalibastard, freezing his brain with a headshot.
"Status."
"Heard gunshots above us. He probably killed them all."
"Well, where the Hell is he now?!"
"I don't know, sir. He didn't come down here. Maybe he is dead too."
"Wishful thinking will get us nowhere. How many you have with you right now."
"Only the Laser Specialist***, sir. The sniper is still active too."
"I can confirm."
"Copy that. Good luck, gentlemen."
"A Laser Specialist? That might be a problem."
Moving those thoughts away and looting all corpses, the Vault Hunter reached the second floor. Trouble started as soon as he became visible to the two soldiers hiding behind the billiard table. One of them, the Laser Specialist, had a shock Blaster, which means he had an assault rifle that fires electric laser bolts. This soldier quickly became his primary concern, as he managed to deplete his Shield, allowing the Marine to hit Braylon's left arm with his Jakobs rifle.
Without thinking about the wound or pain, Braylon kicked the billiard table forward, trampling both soldiers, before jumping down to avoid being hit by the sniper. He checked his wound. The bullet went right through, so it would quickly heal, as the nanobots would have less work. Also, borrowing some clothes from the shop owner was a good idea. He reminded himself to burn those bloodstained rags as soon as he was done, along with the building, thus avoiding the risk of someone taking their weapons.
"I don't understand. Why attack me just now? Were they waiting for a perfect moment? If there are more of them outside, then I better get the fuck out of this place, fast."
"Status?"
"Lost contact with them, sir."
"Damn it! Can you see him?"
"Negative. Should I continue?"
"..."
"Sir?"
"Your superior is dead. Retreat now or there will be severe consequences."
That new voice startled Braylon far more than those soldiers ever could. It was a voice he hoped he would never hear again, one that sent chills down his spine; a distinct, robotic grumble.
"Who the fuck is this? Identify yourself!"
It went on, ignoring the brief intrusion.
"Greetings, Vault Hunter. I know you are listening. Prepare to die."
This is where I will break the action for now. Next chapter will be focused entirely on Claptrap and his (mis)adventures, "meanwhile with X" style. Chapter after that will return to Braylon and his fight.
We are approaching the end of the first Volume. As always, please leave a comment after you're done. I can't know if I am doing something right without a feedback from my audience.
Now there is something I would like to share with you all, my readers who made it this far. One day, I was thinking about this story and how to continue the story. I remember that, somewhere along that line, I began fantasizing about this story and how it would look like if it were a comic/comic book. Even better, how the cover would look like. I then imagined three versions of the cover art.
A) There is this picture that can be viewed like the cover for Doom 2, where Braylon holds Ajax's Spear, pointing it at a large group of demons. All of this happening in a dark hallway Doom 64 style. There was also Nukem near Braylon's feet, used to kill some demons that are now corpses laying on the floor.
B) From a frog's perspective, we can see Braylon in a giant, wooden room, holding a blood-covered axe, ready to strike a scared thug, while two more stand somewhere away, pointing their guns at him. Here, Braylon is in a berserker state, which is why his victim is scared.
That is all for now. If I make up more, I will gladly post them. It's not like I can use them, since this is a written story and not a comic.
PDA Biopedia:
*Entry #70: Dahl Space Marine
Type: Human
Faction: Dahl Corporation
Description:"Speiss Mehreens! Sorry… So, Space Marines! Let's see… soldiers carried by spaceships, with roles similar to those conventional marines: deployment, boarding hostile vehicles (read: rival corporations) and taking care of space stations owned by Dahl… before Atlas or someone else kicks them out. Nothing too special for a guy like me. Weapons are decent, although they could be better. Some have jet packs as a bonus. To be honest, it actually makes them easier to kill. It's so funny seeing them explode with those damn things, used to be a sport on Elpis. Still better than Snick-It."
**Entry #71: Dahl Juggernaut Marine
Type: Human
Faction: Dahl Corporation
Description: "Walking wardrobes. Slightly harder to kill if you don't aim for the head. Always go around with a sword and a pistol. Never understood why. I mean, I know they are expendable and all, but at least they could save a buck or two if they hired intelligent people."
***Entry #72: Dahl Laser Specialist
Type: Human
Faction: Dahl Corporation
Description: "A textbook example of bureaucracy. Laser Specialists are people trained in using laser weaponry, despite the fact that everyone with half a brain can use them. Their weapons are slightly better than a Marine's, but not really a problem if they don't use Shock-based guns. If you have a Shield, that is. Otherwise, they can make your life worse than the shit you flush after eating Mexican food for a day."