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At first, there were whispers.
Nobody believed any of them, of course, because how could that monster be dead? Countless others had tried to end its life but only lost their own instead, so to think that someone had actually done the deed left many shaking their heads and keeping their paranoia. Not that most of it mattered, of course. They were never its prey.
Those who were though, instead celebrated. While a definitive body had never been found, the absence of any hints proving otherwise over the coming week had quickly raised hopes. Though their celebrations were always quiet, not wanting any vengeful spirit of the deceased to take offense in the humility.
“Someone had to do it,” cautious people said when discussing the disappearance, “And to whoever it was, I’d like to shake their hand.”
Despite his large arrange of contacts, the deceased was far from popular. In the sense of being universally loved, that was. No, he had built himself a reputation based on infamy. A bounty hunter with an already impressive record to his name, a rumor even being-- and even started by his own mouth-- that he once desecrated an entire universe to the point reality itself refused to function within the laws of existence. A fate worth than death, all would say.
Even his job as a seemingly run-of-the-mill bounty hunter made him even more feared. People-- powerful people even-- experienced firsthand what monster he turned into when he entered the hunt. Sometimes others found bits and pieces of his victims, others heard him ask for last words, only for those to be cut short.
It was safe to say that he made many enemies with his reputation. Many stewed over their books or their drinks, plotting a way to take down the menace who turned in people as if he was a mere bug hunter after caterpillars. They hated how he did it with such ease and the ability to gloat at the end about his catch. With each bounty he finished, his ego became more and more unbearable.
Then his death became rumored, then the claims set in. Those brave enough attempted to take the title of the anonymous killer.
“I was the one who did it,” a woman with ivory hair said through her mask. Her piercing green eyes narrowed within the holes, “I let him beg for mercy that I never gave.”
Her cronies around the table she sat at gave small whoops and applause. One even clapped her on the back and asked for the barkeep for another drink for the bold hero.
“Funny, I never saw you there when I slit his throat,” another joined the group. He already nursed a small drink in his hand as he shot the white-haired masquerade, whose face flashed with offense. “I’m sure if you ask her, she can’t even say what his last words were! When I killed him, he spoke them long before I was there.”
She fumed, her eyes burning so brightly that when she huffed through her nose, some at the table claimed to see smoke leave her nostrils. One of the table’s participants, one without a drink due to obvious physical reasons, merely rolled their eyes as another ran his finger over the rim of his own.
“For your own information,” the woman chided, “I’m sure you can imagine what begging for mercy sounds like. But if you’re too dim to use your imagination for that, then I’ll tell you. ‘Please let me live! I’ll do anything-- everything!’”
“I don’t care who killed him,” mumbled the man messing with his drink. He kept his one good eye trained down at it. “You claimed you’ve killed him? Fine, both of you get a medal. Most of us have a target off our back until someone else picks up his slack.”
“Didn’t know you could talk,” said the new arrival. He brushed his red hair away from his face with narrowed eyes.
“I do. I just choose to be quiet until someone threatens to disturb that silence. Instead, place your bets on mouthless here.” The other jerked his head to the bespectacled person sitting on his unscarred side. With that gesture, he was granted a small glare by many at the table.
“How about your credentials, then?” The woman tapped a ruby-painted nail on her cheek and took the conversation from the quiet man with light brown hair. “You have the blade that killed him?”
The man barked laughter, his fangs bared. “What? Take me for some amateur? Feast your eyes!”
He reached into his belt and took out a lethal-looking dagger. Its blade caught the light with a pink glow as he triumphantly tossed it down onto the table. As the clanging rang out among the circle, many marveled at the sight. However, the man with the scarred face gave a huff of laughter into his drink while the other rolled their eyes once more.
“What’s so funny?”
The man looked up with a crooked smile on his face while his pale blue eye flashed with humor. He glanced back down at the knife in all of its hilarity.
“The blood,” he quietly said, taking another drink from his glass, “You’ve clearly never met the man. He has golden blood.”
Haughty and triumphant laughter erupted at the table at the expense of the confident center of attention. He narrowed his eyes down at the smaller one, then at the red-stained knife. Suspicion and anger etched themselves onto every line of that sneering face, making him slam his hand onto the table and leer down with a challenging forced smile.
“Oh yeah? And how do you know that?”
“This guy told me.” The scarred man nudged the mouthless one next to him and got an accusatory glare from them. “Kidding. No, I’ve given him a few hard fights to know what he bleeds.”
“I just thought it was common knowledge,” crooned the emerald-eyed woman, “No matter what fight he’s in, he always goes home with wounds to lick. What poor soul did you kill for this?”
Beet red had to be the most accurate way to describe the color on his face as he glared down at her smug expression. As more laughter enveloped the small crowd that didn’t pertain to the mouthless person, the man grumbled incoherently through the din. He reached forward and snatched the dagger from the table, its edge scraping against the wooden surface. Huffing once, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the establishment.
As he left, the woman with the ivory hair once again reaffirmed her claim that she had been the one to kill that notorious bounty hunter.
--
Eventually, the rumors slowly settled into fact: he no longer existed. For months, no one had heard or seen a single hint of his return, and those skeptical finally sighed in relief. There had been times when he had gone missing from the playing field, but usually, it took less time for him to bounce back. A few weeks in and then he’d be back with his hands in the hair of a decapitated head and a smile in his eyes.
Unfortunately, another day without any announcement of his return or word from his co-conspirators killed a little more of the dying light of hope in her chest.
She had no idea why she held on for any sign of him. By all means, she had every right to despise him, to throw his name in the trash like everyone else, to spit on the grave people made to feel some sort of satisfaction. The feeling never came and she could only feel a hole in herself that he shouldn’t have filled in the first place.
But he had to. He fulfilled it… for a time. Before he left her. He had done everything right up until that point.
That didn’t make the hurt go away, not in the slightest. She wandered the streets of the most popular haunt between mundane universes, scanning crowds for the faintest hint of him being around. She cursed the childish part of herself for wanting to know he existed at the very least and not some ghost. Why keep searching when they were no longer family?
As the weeks wore on, her pain washed away into a dull ache, a wondering of what could have been. Those thoughts were never dwelled on much as wallowing in them would bring only more suffering than he did to her. It took time to finally sew those old wounds shut, to let go of what she could’ve had underneath his wing along with the lucky few he took in.
That would be for another life of hers to experience. She just happened to be the version of herself who didn’t have that happen.
With all of that just some dark lump in the back of her mind, she progressed with life as she knew it: following-- or rather-- leading ahead for his footsteps to come after. She had been a bounty hunter before him, she had done so much before he even thought about it. Something like his death wouldn’t change that and with him gone, she’d continue.
She found herself chatting with one of the stall vendors on the side of the road, a hopeful who took advantage of the constant foot traffic to make a quick buck. They seemed pleasant enough, offering up any kind of merchandise that fell within her budget. As tempting as all of it was, she was only on a grocery run but couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering.
A sudden presence wormed its way to her side, standing close enough to feel the air displace but far enough for them not to brush. Wanting to be as polite as she could, she shimmied to the side to allow them some personal space as she continued to peruse.
“Oh, hello there!” greeted the vendor cheerily, “Interested in anything?”
A beat of silence. “Do you sell information?”
She had been more than willing to let the conversation between the shopkeeper and the customer fade into the din of the marketplace around, but she felt her body go incredibly still at the new arrival’s voice. That tinny film to his voice, she knew it all too well. Tentatively, she glanced to the side, finding herself staring at clothes she didn’t recognize.
“I’m not sure what there is to say, I’m just a humble salesman. If you’re talking about the items and prices, then I’ll give all I can.”
“I know that,” the arrival said with a shrug. Something was off about his movements. They were too fluid. “But you have eyes, no? I only want to know if you saw someone walk by.”
That sounded and spoke like him. She took a few steps to the side to properly get a better look at him, and how different he became. He held himself up, though kept one of his hands firmly planted on that cane she remembered he had stolen. His hair had grown out, far longer than justified for just a year of vanishing off the radar.
“A lot of people walk by here.”
She looked back to the stand in front of her, unable to see despite her intense staring. That was him. That was really him in the flesh, having returned from what people claimed to be the dead. Was it all just chocked up to be a very believable rumor? He looked so different though.
“How about a slender woman with blue hair and a long green dress? I heard she’s a frequent visitor in the area.”
Back on the job already. She closed her eyes and took in a steadying breath. It was hard to bite down the sense of relief that flooded her bones, about him continuing to walk amongst the living world. But at the same time, that close distance being so painfully far away was enough to sober those thoughts and drive a stinger into her heart.
The vendor made a small noise of concentration before directing the presumed recently revived in the right direction, for which he was thanked rather quickly. As he made to leave, he stopped when he realized her presence beside him. With that, familiarity sparked in his yellow eyes and he waved a hand in a cheery greeting.
“Oh, didn’t see you there. You’re Nerokane’s friend… apprentice, was it?”
Those words hurt more than him ignoring her. She stared up at him, a surge of feelings bubbling and rushing inside of her. Anger, hate, sadness, desperation, hurt… fear. That was all she was to him, just some friend of a friend. Couldn’t he see what stood right in front of his nose in clear daylight? Did she have to spell it out for him in flashing neon letters? How much time was needed to pass for him to finally realize?
“Colleague,” she said quietly in an attempt to keep the hurt and bitterness out of her voice.
“Give him my regards then. Excuse me, I need to head out.”
He tapped his cane on the ground and walked off toward the larger masses of buildings and crowds. By the looks of it, he relied on it much more than ever, where it had once only been there for aesthetic and power reasons. Now it seemed to have more use as a walking stick than a magic staff.
It hit her like a ton of bricks as she watched him vanish into the crowd: she lost her brother once again.
--
While he wanted to close up and go home before the crowds went from bad to worse, he bristled when he found the last patron strolling in through the doors five minutes before he closed doors. With a withering glare, he wanted nothing more than to stamp on the flowing ribbons of her trailing dress in order to get her to leave while complaining about service.
But for some reason, he did nothing except greet her with a painful customer service face that didn’t feel at home with himself. It still faded into a scowl once her back was turned. He understood last-minute shopping, but how didn’t she notice the lack of people manning the register?
Oh well. He brushed his red hair out of his eyes and kept himself facing the lady as she admired one of the display cases with a thin smile. Judging by her body language, he noticed with a hint of annoyance how relaxed and uncaring she was. Did she understand at all that he was in a rush?
“Miss,” he said smoothly, “Is there anything you need help looking for?”
The woman looked up, her smile growing thinner. She gave one last glance down at the necklace in its case before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. I was planning on running in and grabbing it before closing, but my indecisiveness from earlier today got me again. Oops.”
Great. More frustration shot through his veins and he did his best not to let it show. Now wasn’t the time for her to be having these issues now! With something as expensive as that, the transaction to come would be nothing short of extreme overtime alone.
In order to prevent that from happening, he gave his best attempt at a patient smile. “No one’s expressed interest in that necklace yet, so you can drop by tomorrow to pick it up.”
She paused, her mind working before she gave a smile and a nod. Though when she opened her mouth to speak, her voice cut short in her throat as another noise filled the room at a startling level. He instantly clapped his hands over his ears and bent over from the bang.
With his ears still ringing, he barely registered the noise of a body hitting the floor, though he did hear the sounds of something hard repeatedly hitting the ground. As he managed to get a better look at the scene, he stared down at the body of the woman in the seafoam dress, a dark red blossom opening its petals in the center of her chest.
How? How did that happen so fast? He whipped his head around to find a perpetrator, any reason as to why she dropped like a sack. Though his search didn’t last. Quietly, he watched a vaguely familiar stranger waltz into the room from the direction of the back door. One hand perched on the cane and the other holding a shiny gun, they made their way through the shelves to stop at the side of the dead woman. The air around them seemed to shift, as if shrinking away and shivering into shadow.
“Shouldn’t have let your guard down,” they crooned with glee.
The feeling of icy water doused him as he recognized the voice. That horrific voice; the last sound many heard before their deaths. They were actually alive? He could hardly link the voice to the face with such a dramatic change in the monster’s appearance, finding only vague similarities and nothing more. But the menacing and terrifying aura… he could recognize that quite well.
His praying for the monster to leave him alone must have been laughed at by some unseen god, as the antlered head slowly turned in his direction. They blinked as if they just realized he was there, but all the same, their eyes turned into chilling half-moons of a smile.
“I thought I was alone.” There was a lethal edge of ice to their voice.
If there had been a curse that could accurately display his thoughts, he would’ve uttered it. The word, if he could’ve even conjured one, died in his throat and settled at the bottom of his chest, his tongue working uselessly. That crazy idiot was alive and fixing him with a stare that he equated to a predator sizing up its prey.
Defensively and legs working without thinking, he held up his hands and began to back away. Anything to get away from this monster. While he had acted cocky and tried to snatch the credit for killing them before, he felt none of that confidence now that the thing itself prowled in front of him.
To his horror, the cane moved and they readied their gun once more.
"Hah! We can talk this out, you came for her, not me! Leave me out of this!" he found himself saying as he slowly edged his way to the ajar doors behind him. His voice sounded high and pathetic in his own ears, which made the room light up in noise… and darken in mood with a tinny laugh.
"You're right: I didn't climb out of Hell to see your death through, no. You're not that important, you just happened to be in my way. However..."
They advanced, their sharp cane clanging against the ground. As if the gun had fired again, his heart jumped into his throat as if started by it and he stumbled over his feet. No, why him? Why couldn’t they just turn around and claim their prize? He wasn’t what they wanted! They had to let him go, he did nothing wrong to them!
"... You'd be perfect for my return debut.”
He just made it to the double doors before the world erupted into a world of noise and pain. The ground disappeared from under his feet and the doors gave way, pain blossoming in his right shoulder. Blood arced as the streetside rushed to meet him and he couldn’t even feel embarrassment for the pained sound that escaped his lips the moment he hit the concrete.
Everything spun but not as fast as his mind did as it continued to scream at him to get up and escape. He still had time, he could still get away from that bounty hunter. The sense of survival pumped adrenaline through his veins, allowing him to inch to a sitting position. He barely recognized the crowd around him as they stared in shock and confusion. None dared to get close once the silhouette at the open doors appeared.
The last thing he saw was the flash of the muzzle, the last thing he heard was the sound of an ear-splitting shot.
--
Silence filled the air as the once red-haired man became still. All eyes were focused on the stranger at the top of the stairs, who put his gun away in a smooth flourish. One of those pairs of eyes was narrowed as their owner slunk away into the crowd.
Quite a welcoming reception, if they could say so themselves. After all, there was no better show than to splatter someone’s brain matter across a busy market to get the point of their return across. Yes, this would get people talking far and wide… exactly what they wanted. While subtlety had been something they flirted with from time to time, it never came to as naturally as causing a mess.
But their job was done, and a giddy laugh arose in their throat. How they missed the buzz of a hunt. Now, that little high of a disappointing bounty and a redeeming innocent kicked off a new era of their profession.
Their gaze slid over the crowd once more as they tried to send a chill down each and every one of their spines, and found that colleague of Nerokane’s staring blankly back. What a coincidence that she joined the show too.
No matter what, with them back in the game, they were going to make shows for all to see. Though what they needed to do first was turn that woman’s bounty in for a pretty penny.