You could still see the scars on the sky at every sunset. Illuminated with purple and gold ever so vibrant and ominous. They were permanent reminders to the haphazard human commodity of war. An ever-present glowing sky radiated from weapons both nuclear and chemical that decimated two-thirds of the human population, and forever changed those left behind. Still this was nothing but a distant memory to the man crossing the desert beneath it. He lay back on his mutated steed, a dusty cowboy hat over his eyes; the care free life of a drifter was overdue for some excitement. The horse slowed to a stop with a silhouette blocking its path. Its red eyes stared at the figure for a moment before letting out a bray that could wake the dead.
"Easy there big fella, not here for you, just that thing you're carrying." The shadow cast individual hissed. The path was flanked on either side with two sand dunes, naturally formed over the city that was once there. The dunes went on endlessly for miles in either direction but those that had formed over structures had hollowed out areas that were now occupied by various residents, in this case bandits. From either side, emerged men crawling on all fours but from their anatomy it seemed to be natural. They moved like lizards on the sand circling the traveler who gave a faint yawn and nothing more. A cloud of dust rose around him when it settled he was surrounded by a dozen lizard-like men standing tall on inverted legs. Long coats and hats hid most of their features but the smell of fresh flesh on their breath and sizable claws and slit eyes showed their intention before their leader spoke once more.
"If you got any coin or weapons on ya throw'em down now. Then you can decide if we'll have you or your horse over for dinner tonight." His men snickered and hissed but no one moved. They kept their eyes on the man slowly sitting up before them. He said nothing, simply rubbed his shoulders and neck.
"What's it gonna be boy?" The leader hissed again. It was then the traveler gave a strong yawn. The kind that pops the spine and really gets the blood circulating. The kind that catches bandits off guard with two magnums, 'hell-bent' revolvers, and puts a round in each of their chest leaving a hole big enough for a child to crawl through. The bandit leader stood untouched, nailed to the ground with shock. There was rage for his men but the fear could be seen in the tremble in his tail. His eyes darted from the gunmen to the corpses back and forth as he tried to process what had transpired.
"B-but there were only four, I only heard four shots!? This some kind of ambush?! What the hell did you do to them!?" His speech was becoming more erratic with the ever-setting sun.
The gunman gave his horse a nudge and it began on its path once more. As he grew closer the leader could see him more clearly. The old brown trench coat he wore was of the UN militant scout issue, old clothes said otherwise but his eyes said it all. Golden iris, black cornea, the eyes of a Blood Wielder.
"Those eyes, who are you man?" he hissed as the man strolled by. The man on the horse stopped.
"The next time I see you. I'll kill you." He spoke finally. His tone carried no malice but his words echoed in the mutant as he trotted off back down the dusty path. Leaving one alive was a way of sending a message to others. There were always more and the closer it came to nightfall the more mutants would emerge. It was no secret, many unarmed or unaugment travelers hoping to gaze upon the long since gone stars found only death in cold the night. The only refuge for a weary wanderer was an Outpost.
Outpost, small temporary fortifications during the war that had been converted into towns and safe havens in the post era. They weren't densely populated and usually only had a few small businesses going but all had a tavern for the common passerby. Taverns were usually alive with war stories of glory or fury from its backlash.
Outpost 343 was without either when the gunmen arrived. To his surprise it was filled with music and howls of celebration from five cyber gentlemen who seemed to be drinking up the bar. The gunmen strolled on passed them without a word and took a seat at the end of the bar.
"Better order something quick friend, these boys ain't slowin' down anytime soon," The inn keeper said gruffly. He could barely be heard over the ruckus being made.
"I'll have anything that's left so long as it's cold." The man replied in a low monotone voice. The inn keeper smirked with a twitch of his beard and took his leave.
"Tonight is our night boys remember that!" One of the men shouted. His mechanical eye flashed as he downed another drink warning him of his intoxication levels but he paid it no mind. His attention did however land on the man sitting at the end of the bar. As he received his drink the cyborg snatched it from his hand and sat on bar next to him.
"You picked a helluva a night to show up stranger. Drinks are on me!" he chuckled and the others laughed along with him. "Why don't you come on over and join us?"
The gunman sighed slowly, careful not to show his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat.
"What's the occasion?" he asked, causing a big smile to come across the man's face.
"Boy do we have a tale for you! See that young 'lady' over yon?" he said, nodding behind him. The gunmen peaked over his shoulder and saw the bleeding face of the lady he mentioned. She was tied down to a chair with chains. Her long dress was covered in blood but from the looks of her hands, most of it wasn't her own. Her pointed ears twitched at the mentioning of her name and she cast a deathly glare in their direction. She was gagged but the look in her mutated green and red eyes spoke volumes.
"Caught that pretty little bounty just this morning. The Dynamite Princess! You know how much she's worth?!"
"Oi!" a comrade chimed in, "don't go tellin' the whole world about her!"
"She's worth 550,500 in coin," The gunman said calmly. For the first time that evening the tavern was silent.
"How did you-" the traveler cut him with a wave of his fingerless gloved hand. On the backside, it bore an insignia of a demon with broken horns; the crest of the bounty hunters.
"Well I'll be, he's one us!" the man shouted, reviving the celebrational atmosphere. "Can't be too trustin' of folks this far out from the city, you know how that is." He said handing the drink back.
"True, so be honest with me, hunter to hunter, how did you do it?" the gunman asked, relaxing his demeanor. He sat back with his arms crossed as if expecting to be impressed.
"Well to tell the truth we've been settin' up shop here to ambush her for days! Had to get the 343 in on it." The gunman held up a hand and stopped him there.
"My apologies, allow me to rephrase my question, how'd you get these bandits to let you live this long?" he tried to say it as low as possible but the silence fell again and he knew he had been overheard. The inn keeper looked at the other four who now had all their attention on the man across the bar. He looked at the man as well who slid the glass back to him and quietly apologized.
"The hell are you-"the cyborg's sentence was lost in the fray as he was launched over the bar by one of his would-be partners who suddenly had the urge to tear apart the only other customer that night. To his misfortune he was hit in the chest with a round that sent his lifeless body barreling in the opposite direction. Two more sprouted claws and fangs and attacked him and both met similar fates to the quick draw. The last one didn't move; at least immediately. He dove behind the woman and held her out in front of him.
"Now listen you, this wretch belongs to us! She's killed hundreds of our kind and none of it in self-defense! We have the only right to justice here." He hissed. The bounty hunter aimed both guns in his direction.
"You bring her in and the courts will deliver her sentence for her crimes."
"That's not good enough" he snapped back. "That kind of justice died with the old world. "
"And the kind of justice you seek is what helped kill it." the gunman said, now walking closer.
"Talking all high and mighty about justice, but my kin didn't see much of a fair trial with you did they?"
"And neither will you," the gunman coldly added. A shot rang out from behind and the mutant threw the woman, chair and all, at him then sprouted wings and flew out the window into the night. The gunman dodged the woman but now had his guns aimed at the bar. The cyborg had staggered back to his feet; weapon drawn.
"Man what the hell just happened?!" he slurred trying to regain his bearings. The back end of a shotgun caught him in the side of the head and took him out once more. The Inn keeper gave a deep sigh and looked around the bar.
"Now who's gonna pay for all this?" he growled but the gunmen had moved on. He rolled the woman over and checked her for injuries. He ran a hand across her face placing her tar black hair behind her ear then undoing the gag in her mouth. The Dynamite Princess eyes flew open like a switch had been hit. She angled her head up with a scowl but when she saw his eyes her gaze soften and she simply rolled her eyes.
"Out of one tight spot and into another." She said smugly.
"If it's any consolation, I had no interest in your bounty." He said standing up. He holstered both guns and sat her back to an upright position.
"What do you mean 'had' why's that past tense now? Don't you guys have some unwritten code about cashing in someone else's hard work?"
He smiled at her and took a seat next to her.
"These guys that caught ya weren't bounty hunters, something tells they had plans to eat you, and their friend over there. Just needed him as a cover story." He deduced thoroughly. And his deduction was sound. She raised a brow and tried to get a view under his hat again.
"I guess those eyes are good for more than just staring into aye blood wielder? Got a name?" she asked. He tilted his hat up slightly and looked at the Inn keeper who was now casting his own glare at him. There was no place a blood wielder went that didn't end up burned to the ground, and the night was already stacking up to end the same. But this blood wielder gave him a look that eased the tension. It said without words that somehow this situation was different. That being said he returned to the question at hand.
"Othello," he said calmly. "My name is Othello."