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Gun Gibson fired a shot from both of his guns. One aimed point blank at the chest did just fine, but he was beyond bored enough and needed extra pizazz to get through this.
The target was one of Makabe’s former associates that recently moved to a villa in southern France. Since the shakeups a cuple months back, he'd done something to put him on a list. Not much of a point in reading up on the details when the whole point of this world tour him and Carol had been on for the past few months was to pluck off guys who all had goals too big for Neo Guild or to wipe the slate of what came before.
That didn't really translate to a good fight though. This guy went down quickly after all the bodyguards were now just sparking pieces of scrap littering the shiny marble floor.
“Gun Gibson,” said Carol. He turned to find her in the doorway carrying a guitar case. “Oh you killed him already?”
Gun Gibson twirled his guns in the air. ‘Woulda been faster if he didn’t keep talking.”
“Let’s get out of here before we get caught up in anything else.”
“What could this guy possibly have up his sleeve?”
“When I was going through his computer, there was a lot of plans about becoming a robot That and there was a camera in the cellar that was already broken so-”
“That’s not our problem. We just do the killing, the rest of Neo-Guild deals with the clean up.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but maybe that'd be interesting. This whole mission sucked.”
“Eh, c’est la vie.”
Carol sighed, lifting the guitar higher. “Least we got this cool guitar out of it! Look, it’s super detailed and everything. The dent on the case from what I hit that guy really just adds that extra oompf to it after being stuck in a case for so long!”
“Heh, just our luck then!”
The villa they were in was filled with all kinds of expensive shit, so what was one less piece of potentially damning evidence to the true cause of this man’s death?
When they stepped outside, it was raining, so they ran for it back to the motorcycle hidden in the thick grove of trees by the fence and sped off.
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Originally, the plan was to just pawn it off and hide the cash in the deepest dankest corner of the closest spot to a home they had in Japan.
Before that though, he screwed around with it in between jobs.
Carol perched on his shoulder as he played a tune he had stuck in his head.
“Hat, that actually sounds really great!”
“Thanks, been thinking about this all day.”
“Are you serious? Even when you were fighting?”
“How else would I think up a cool theme song?”
“A theme song.”
“Hell yeah, baby!”
Carol laughed. “Maybe I’ll start thinking up one for me in the middle of a fight too!”
So just to see this little side venture to the end, the guitar got to stay alongside them on their travels.
At least, it did until they were called back to Japan to go undercover at the robot prison.
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After Carol died, Gun Gibson played work in progress songs and whatever else could fill the static of an empty base between chasing leads about Makabe. Might’ve been the moodiest choice he could’ve possibly made, but what else was there as he walked down the path to his goal?
Target practice?
Play the Super Famicom without a Player 2?
He really should’ve gotten more single player games that actually worked with it. It’s so stupid that the one time he got one during a mission in America that it didn’t work at all. It’s the same console with a different name, so how the hell did that make sense?
Whatever, games were games and he didn't have time for that! Makabe was very much alive and kicking, so he only had so much time to spend thinking.
He looked down at the guitar in his hands. It survived being carried through multiple continents and many dangerous jobs and somehow it still was in one piece.
Gun Gibson, over here! What’re you doing?
He saw Carol dancing to the random melody played. By now he's more than used to memories bleeding into moments like this that they used to share, so he kept playing, and she kept dancing.
After strumming one last A flat, his hand shook until the string split into two.
Gun Gibson then placed it back in the case and shoved it off into the corner. For a moment, he just stewed in the ambience as the guitar case stared back.
He got up to shove it far enough to where it’d take looking real thoroughly to even notice it.
There.
That gave it a shot at being around after his time to kick the bucket came and went.
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"Carol..."
Her photo in the locket stared back at him. That was clear as day even as every part of his systems were failing to where warnings took up his entire field of view.
Being at death's door had him thinking about some crazy, crazy shit.
Like, "do robots even go to the afterlife?"
In his case, this him right now was as good as finished, but he had a backup. Did that mean two of him or how many other hims that cheat death all get to go to Hell too? See Carol again? That really would be a punishment, telling two versions of yourself apart by "the one that fucked up" and "the one that didn't fuck up."
Whatever that him did, he better fight harder so Makabe would be finished for good. Both hims had to agree that dying for good right now and dumping the responsibility of finishing Makabe off to Janperson alone was stupid.
he can help all he wants when he's around to take the final shot.... just... no-
Time resumed.
The sun on this Gun Gibson set.
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He wouldn't admit it even with a final shudder from his nearly shut down systems, but Gun Gibson thought that dying on the floor somewhere alone was in the cards. If it weren't after seeing Makabe collapse to the ground, he'd sure shoot, punch, and kick his way back just to make sure he came back to Hell with him, but only then. After, there just wasn't much a reason to keep living.
Getting others that were like him to turn around was fair game. Him though? A lost cause that some he thought were total idiots didn't see like that and who kept trying to get him to stay in their orbit.
He was the real idiot for thinking all that, or not thinking at all up until the dust settled.
Without everyone, he'd be dead and a loser. It didn't take having the memory of that fight that was getting further and further away in time to know that.
He sorta had an idea about it when he woke up.
Then time after time, it kept getting hammered in.
There were still people here that cared about him. Loved him. Would be emotional wrecks whenever he was just so much as in a bit of danger. Crazier still, it got to him too.
On that rainy night when Janperson pulled through with something supposedly impossible, he sorta wished he could shed a tear of joy to match his motions.
They were all free.
Gun Gibson had a whole road of possibilities ahead of him now.
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After the mess with Billgoldy, he still had the guitar. It stayed in the corner with half the strings frayed and dust clogging it up, but it was still there.
And what did he do with that information? Head over to the nearest music shop and see if he could get the guitar repaired.
“What dumpster did you get this out of?” the shop owner asked. He then raised it up, eyes trailing over every detail, gawking and pointed to a faded squiggle on the bottom right corner. “No way!"
“You gonna repair it or no-”
“Hey, can I make a deal with you? How about I take this piece of trash in and you can get a new guitar half off? Sounds good?”
Gun Gibson slammed a hand on the counter. “I just came here to get it fixed up, not sell it, got that?”
“I-I mean… well… if you do that then…”
“Then you can’t make bank off it, right?”
He waved his hands in the air. “No no no no no, what? I’m just doing this because honestly I’m not sure repairing it’ll be that easy or as worth your money as getting a brand new one!”
“Oh it’s sure as hell worth my while!”
“O-o-okay… um… uh… I’ll see what I can do,” the shop owner squeaked, sweat rolling down his face.
When he came back to pick it up, the guitar looked almost as untouched as the day him and Carol got it, and it didn't even cost that much to boot!
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Playing guitar was like shooting his guns. No matter how chaotic the notes or bullets were, it had to be on point. Gun Gibson reached his current status of being the number one sharpshooter in the world, so maybe putting the song he had in his head out there'll be an easy bridge to cross.
Gun Gibson leaned against his bike and strummed a few stray notes on his guitar. There was a dry spell of jobs (or more like he just didn't feel like hopping into any) so today he rode around until parking by the side of the road, giving him a view of a few small hills and sparse traffic passing by. Not exactly the most inspiring scenery, but whatever, he already had a muse with a whole discography’s worth of thoughts he had about. Most of it was sappier than he’d expect himself to think up, but he wanted to put it all out there somehow.
So, notes flowed on out until more coherent melodies came together.
Just as he was about to swing his leg over his bike, he saw Tazaki in his peripheral waving.
“Wait, wait, wait! Gun Gibson!” Tazaki yelled, out of breath and holding out an envelope. “Been trying to hunt you down all day so I could give this.”
Tazaki bowed deeply as he held out the envelope.
“What’s in it?”
“Compensation!"
“For what? I told ya I’m not-”
“It’s just to thank you for everything,” said Tazaki.
“You sure your boss didn’t tell ya to do this to reel me in?” Gun Gibson asked, revving up his bike.
“No! I swear it’s all me! I took a whole day off and everything!"
“And you’re still just chasing me around, huh?”
Tazaki rubbed the back of his head. “Yes?"
Gun Gibson patted the back of the bike. “Then if ya want, let’s go bar hopping on you!"
“Wait, what?” Tazaki’s face flipped between the jittery enthusiasm from before and a gaping surprise that was only made funnier by the unfortunate resemblance.
Maybe it was messed up of him to laugh out loud, but he really couldn’t help it.
“If ya don’t then I guess I’m out, bye-bee!”
“Wait, I’ll come!” Tazaki yelled as he scrambled onto the bike behind him. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Gun Gibson continued to laugh as the bike began speeding off.
Turned out that Tazaki knew some pretty good bars around the city with even better alco-oil. After three or four places, they stumbled onto a pair of stools in the corner of a bar with an ongoing open mic night. The dramatic sound of classical compositions from a violin swept through the slower paced but still hectic bustle around them.
Once they got their drinks, Tazaki chugged ¾ of the drink in one swig.
“Y’know, this whole thing’s fuckin’ hilarious,” Gun Gibson said. “Bein drinkin’ buds with the guy who's got the same face as Makabe.”
“Hah, yeah… I’m glad he’s gone for good but that's why I don’t get why you even gave me a chance”
Gun Gibson shrugged and chugged the rest of his drink. When it slammed back on the table, the glass cracked at the bottom. “‘Cause you paid for the drinks? Or uh, you aren’t half bad of a guy.”
Pathetic, but more in the frustratingly endearing way than someone to look down on.
“I’m so serious, Gibby…” Tazaki said, face flushed and with an arm slung across Gun Gibson’s shoulder. “I know people got 12 look-alikes out there but I’m so glad I outlived that- that guy! He left a whole mess for a whole lotta people, me included. And the worst part? The worst part’s that my boss doesn’t even care! ‘Just keep being persistent and recruit more former Neo-Guild robots, Tazaki! You’re really doing a noble thing here by deciding on making that your goal!’ he tells me. And it’s very true, and really the most purpose I’ve had in my entire career of being a headhunter! Really! It’s just that…”
Tazaki leaned over, adjusting his arms until he was hugging Gun Gibson while his face buried into his chest and sobbed. “I still look like him and that makes it so hard!”
Gun Gibson looked away and over at the violinist who just reached the frantic breakdown of what by this point had to be an adlib. As he did this, he still raised his slack arms and gently patted Tazaki’s back with one of them as gently as possible while using the other to bring the hug full circle.
Right as the violinist finished playing a few minutes later, they silently pulled apart.
“And that was Rhapsody, folks! Very smooth playing as always,” a young man with slicked back hair and a slight smile said.
Gun Gibson got up and walked over to the stage. “Still got any slots for this left?”
“Yeah, right now.”
“Works for me!”
And so, that's how he stepped into the world of spur of the moment performances for an actual audience.
He didn't have much of a plan for a set, so he just played whatever came to him first. The more he played, the more people began clapping and cheering, with Tazaki being one of the louder ones of the crowd.
"Hey, so, listen, do you wanna take this further?” Tazaki asked once they stumbled their way through the cheering crowd and out of the bar.
“Huh?”
“Your music! All of that was original, right?"
"Yeah."
"That’s really super impressive! I've got some connections, maybe, some other guys I worked with a couple months ago!"
"Not interested." Gun Gibson shoved Tazaki lightly, though he swayed enough to where he had to rush to catch him before his face planted on the floor. "I'll take this wherever I want."
He had an idea about to who and where first even before this anyway.
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Gun Gibson threw the guitar up in the air. The mid-summer sun's light shone down on it like a calmer bolt of lightning as it flipped over and began to fall. Once he caught it again by the neck with a hand, Gun Gibson began to play.
It's weird, really, that this whole situation had Gun Gibson more nervous than most of his jobs. He only had an audience of one this time. Not like many people came around to this particular spot, a small garden that was out of the way for most, if they knew it existed at all. Gun Gibson was today years old when he found out about it himself after all!
It didn't take much thought to go all in and make this the moment.
So, Gun Gibson shut down the thoughts trying to kill the mood and playing like he never had before. He played this song a bunch of times, but this was where he wanted it to be heard by audio receptors that weren't his.
When the song ended, a breeze swept through. Leaves rustled. Bugs and birds called out. Otherwise, there wasn't a peep.
Gun Gibson then looked up to find Janperson, who had tears running down his face and looked like he was about to levitate in the air with how bright his optics were sparkling. Knowing him, maybe he had it in him to do that. Who knew?
For what it's worth, this was probably the best impulse decision of Gun Gibson's life.