No matter who you are or where you go, there is one thing that all people of all races agree on.
"Where there is light, there is also darkness."
However, not all manner of darkness is bad. There are some things that work within the shadows, in order to protect the light.
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It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was beginning to drift lower in the sky. With the sun to his back, a lone figure was making his way to a small town. The little shanty town was located midway between the kingdom of Vacuo and the kingdom of Vale. It was somewhat rundown and had very few permanent residents. The reason being that the town was primarily used as a place for huntsmen and huntresses to rest when traveling between Vale and Vacuo.
The mysterious figure walked through the empty streets. The figure was a young man, likely a teenager. He had jet black hair and grey-blue eyes. He was dressed almost solely in black clothing—the only exception being his white, collared, button-up shirt. The young man wore black leather cowboy boots with spurs on the heels; a pair of black, slim-fit slacks; along with a black belt. On either side of the belt hung two holsters. Each one held a large silver revolver with a wooden grip. He also wore a black suit-vest and tie over top of his white, collared shirt. In addition, the young man wore a black fedora and a trench coat that reached to halfway up his shins. over his right shoulder, the teen carried a rucksack—likely containing his traveling gear.
The young man walked in complete and utter silence. In fact, the only sound along the entire street came from the whistling wind and the clinking sound his boot spurs made with every step.Continuing his methodical pace, the young man finally arrived at his destination—the local tavern.
Stopping for a moment at the front door, the teen could hear the raucous of drunken laughter and the smell of alcohol coming from within the establishment. Reluctantly, the young man entered the building. As he stepped inside, all eyes immediately turned towards him and all manner of noise ceased.
With slow yet confident steps, the young man made his way to the bar and took one of the available seats. Then he spoke in a low dry tone, "Hey Bartender, get me a bourbon on the rocks."
The bartender hesitated at first. He wasn't keen on the idea of a minor having alcohol that strong. But the older man kept his thoughts to himself. He had seen many strange things come from Vacuo, and underage drinking was the least of them. "Uhh...sure, kid. Coming right up."
Deciding not to question the reason someone The boy's age was ordering something like that, the Bartender got right to work on the young man's drink. Within a few minutes, the bartender returned with the teen's drink.
Sliding the glass across the bar, the old man decided to strike up a conversation. "So kid...I gotta ask, what's someone your age doing all by himself in a place like this? I mean no disrespect or anything. I'm just a little curious is all."
The boy in black took a sip of his drink before he responded in a rather irritated tone, "Okay, first of all, my name isn't "kid," It's Victor. Second, why I'm here is none of your damn business."
The old bartender put his hands up in mock surrender, "Hey, hey, take it easy kid. It was just a question. There's no need to get so defensive."
Victor sighed, "I suppose you're right. Guess I'm just a little on edge from the rest of my journey. Thanks for the drink by the way. Hopefully it can help me unwind a bit."
"Don't worry about it, kid." With that, the bartender returned to the work of cleaning the bar and serving drinks to some of the other people in the tavern.
Victor continued to sit at the bar for some time afterwards, taking sips from his drink as time passed. After about thirty minutes, the peace and quiet that Victor had been enjoying was finally shattered as three men came up to him.
Each of the men stood between 6'2" and 6'5", and looked like they could snap a Beowolf in half with only their hands. The tallest of the three had a scar over his left eye. The second largest man had a robotic-prosthetic left arm, and the third was covered in tattoos from head to toe. Each of the three men carried a revolver at their sides, and the tallest man had a wicked smirk on his face.
When the three men reached where Victor was seated, the tallest man grabbed Victor's shoulder roughly. "Hey kid, you're sitting in my spot."
"Hmm?" Victor looked back at the large man with an exasperated expression on his face. When he saw the three meatheads before him, Victor couldn't help but think they seemed familiar. He then turned away from the three men and pulled a handful of flyers from one of his coat pockets. The teen riffled through the flyers for a moment before coming across what he was searching for. "Yep, I thought as much." Now content, Victor placed the flyers back in his coat pocket and faced the men behind him once more.
"Well, sorry to disappoint you, big guy, but I'm sitting here right now. But, since you're here, let me ask ya something. You and your goons over there look pretty tough. So, you boys got strong auras to protect ya?" Victor's question seemed rather odd to the bartender as he worried for the young man's safety.
"As a matter of fact, we do have auras, squirt!" The man with the scar on his face boasted of their strength—smirking all the while.
"Good..." Without saying another word, Victor chugged the last of his drink before placing the glass back onto the bar with a thud. He then stood up and cracked his knuckles before he completely vanished from sight.
Victor's sudden disappearance caught the burly man off guard. "What the hell! Where'd that runt go!?!?"
"Oh! I know where he is." The trio of shady characters were frantically searching for the source of the voice. "Where is he?!" shouted the man with the robotic arm.
"Right behind you!!!" Just then, Victor reappeared behind the three thugs, startling them—and everyone else in the tavern too. In a single fluid motion, Victor unholstered the revolver on his right hip, spun it around his index finger while raising it, and ended by pointing the revolver directly at the man with the scar across his eye. The entire motion, though incredibly complex, occurred in the span of one second.
Victor addressed the three ruffians as he held them at gunpoint, "Johnny Scarface, One-arm Wilson, and Larry Light-fingers, you three have pretty good bounties on your heads, and I intend to claim 'em!"
"Like hell we're gonna let some crazy kid like you take us in. Besides, last I checked, there's three of us and only one of you." Scarface was thoroughly ticked off. It was infuriating to think that a lone teenager would try to take down him and his boys down.
"It's honestly kinda funny that you three bums actually think you have a choice. Oh well, guess I'll just do this the hard way." Victor shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. He was amused by the three stooges before him.
"Wh—Ahh!!!" Before Scarface could get another word in, Victor fired his shotgun-revolver, hitting him square in the chest. Though the lethal nature of the round was stopped by his aura, the blast from the shot still carried Scarface into a nearby wall. Without missing a beat, Victor began his assault on the remaining two men.
He first unholstered his other revolver, One-arm and Light-finger doing the same. But the Boy in Black had more tricks up his sleeve. With a flick of his wrists, Victor transformed his revolvers into a pair of bladed whips.
With terrifying speed, Victor made his move. He flicked his wrists once more, sending the bladed whips flying towards the two men. Upon reaching their targets, he manipulated the whips to wrap around his enemies' guns. Victor then yanked the whips back to him which, in turn, jerked the firearms out of the thugs' hands. "Now then, are you boys gonna come along quietly, or do I need to do some more 'convincing'?" Victor had a confident smirk as he point his revolvers at the two thugs.
"We give up! Please don't kill us!!!" Light-finger and One-arm put their hands up in surrender. Fearing for their lives.
"See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Just as quickly as it had started, the fight was over. The Boy in Black had won. With the three pitiful excuses for criminals taken care of, Victor set to work detaining them and contacting the authorities. He wanted to collect his reward and be on his way as soon as possible.
Taking a moment to look around the tavern, Victor saw the looks of shock and disbelief plastered across every face in the tavern. He also noticed the damages caused by his bout with the would-be bandits. There was a slight hole in the wall where Scarface had landed, as well as two broken tables. With a sigh, Victor turned to face the bartender. "Hey bartender, sorry about the mess. So how about this. I'll give ya the reward money I get for capturing these three dumbasses. That sound like fair compensation?"
"S-sure kid. W-whatever you say." The bartender was at a loss for words, still shaken by the fight he had witnessed.
"Alright then, time for me to be on my way. Just tell the cops that I'm giving the reward to you as payment for the damages." Victor grabbed his rucksack and hoisted it over his shoulder. Then, he walked out of the tavern without uttering another word.
After that slight delay, the young man was back on his journey. His destination: the Kingdom of Vale. With nobody around, Victor's thoughts wandered, "Man, I hope Beacon can give me a chance at a new life. This whole bounty hunter gig is getting kinda boring."
The young man continued to speculate as he walked the lonely desert road—completely unaware of what awaited him.