Sometime in the Past
Night's dark shadow had just fallen over the Banaro. Everything and everyone in town were getting ready to bed down for the night, with the exception of the Gren Saloon, of course. But all was not well outside of the peaceful trading village. Less than ten miles away, a gang of nine Outlaws made their way toward the town, all dressed in red cloaks, all astride massive black horses.
They were men with a purpose, a task to fulfill. These men were on a mission to rob the village bank, owned by the wealthy minister family. Eight of the nine carried two revolvers each, but the leader of the group had a different weapon loadout. He had a massive shotgun strapped to his back, along with two rifles in the saddlebags of his horse. Needless to say, the leader of the Gang was smugly confident as he rode toward the unsuspecting Village. He had done his research about the town. He knew that they had a dangerously small police force. He had this information because every year they tried to recruit any willing townspeople into deputies. He knew that the village was very inactive at night and that it would take time before anyone realized what was happening.
Gren and Sheriff loaded their pistol and readied themselves for the Gang's attack as they knew it was coming. In the silence of the night, Gren heard, off in the distance but getting closer fast, the sound of several horses' hooves beating the ground. The Sheriff backed himself into an alleyway, just out of sight of the town's end, seconds before the Gang burst through. The sheriff pulled the trigger as soon as he spotted them.
More shots rang through the quiet darkness as the small group of deputies got closer and closer to their destination. At this point, one could even see the flashes of light from gunfire as the sheriff and Gren battled with the nine people by themselves.
As the fight goes on there were three bodies already lying in pools of their own blood strewn on the ground, and the sheriff and Gren were still shooting at the six men still standing. The leader of the Gang had realized what had happened at the exact same time that Sheriff realized it. The Sheriff had run out of ammo, at precisely the worst time. As the sheriff sprinted away back to his cover, the gang leader finished reloading and rounded on him, gun raised and aimed. Just before the sheriff made it back to cover, the gang leader let three bullets fly, straight at the sheriff. But the Gren suddenly went tried to protect sheriff as the bullets caught one in the hip, one in the shoulder, and one in his stomach. This was a fatal injury, and Gren knew it.
He reloaded a gun, took a deep, rattling, painful breath, and jumped out of his cover. This caught the gang leader off guard, but only for a second. He started firing again, but Gren was already halfway toward him. Only a few shots hit Gren as he got right up next to the gang leader, put his gun up to the man's head, and fired three times in quick succession.
The entire gang was defeated by Gren and Sheriff alone. But Gren was losing blood quickly; he knew he was almost gone. He had survived so many encounters like this, but somehow, he knew, this was the last time. Gren was now becoming short of breath. Even sheriff was on the verge of weeping as he saw his beloved student die right before his eyes.
"Tell my Julia…and Vicious" Gren whispered as he fell to his knees, "…that I…love them." At this, Gren fell to the ground and died.
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Vicious made his way back to the Banaro a few days later, and by the time he did, there was something off. After hearing about all this looked inherited Gren notebook which had been a record of dates, transactions and future meet-up date with Vicious. It also included a list of names that Vicious didn't understand, along with some locations throughout the Banaro that were detailed only by the controlled territories' base leaders. There were other numbers as well, but he didn't know what they meant. He closed the book and then looked out over the landscape. The hot night air was broken with a gentle breeze that brought to him the smells of burning bodies and brush. To the left was a massive wildfire that ate up the horizon, building over the mountains. From the direction of the wind, he was safe. It was on the other side of the canyon, where the Banaro town had been.
He watched the orange glow blaze as it crawled from one ridge to the other, filling the night sky with black smoke. He stared down at his boots for some time, finding some peace in the desert that he couldn't find in the crowded area. Becoming close to Gren and Julia was an odd and difficult change for him, he felt somewhat uneasiness. And he still questioned whether or not he was capable of being with another human being. But the more he thought about it the more he saw the images of his past, and he knew he couldn't turn away, now. Gren and Julia had practically given his meaningless life a goal, he had no reason to not accept it.
Present
In spite of my profession, I've never actually made a confession. I justified my actions by blaming it on times... saying I did because I had no choice. I took many lives, thinking there was no other way. My sins are too heavy...too heavy to ever atone. Still... I feel really happy with myself today. It was much harsher to live in the world of humans, being used, lied to, and accumulating sad memories.
As the bullet went through his head he felt that he's finally free. He's finally atoning for the sins he has committed.
"Vicious!" She shouted, vision blurred by overflowing tears. In place of reaching his hand out to embrace her, Vicious could only mutter one sentence as his consciousness faded, "Take care of yourself, Julia!"