Chapter Text
“Thank you!” Neil said pleasantly as the woman accepted a pamphlet. “May the Iris guide you to tranquility!” he flashed a peace sign as she walked away.
The sun was setting, which meant it was time to go home. Neil hummed as he walked. Today had been a productive day. More people had actually stopped to listen to him talk about the teachings of the Shambali. And while some people might not actually read the pamphlets, there was the chance that they would and spare some thought about what was written in them.
He was not paying much attention to his surroundings. If he had, he would have noticed the group of men that had been hanging out in one of the city’s many alleys. As it was, he was only alerted to their presence when he heard a low chuckle behind him.
Neil turned around, and fear filled him. About 7 men were there, and from the skeleton tattoos they had all over their bodies, they were Los Muertos. Two were carrying weapons, a baseball bat with metal plates stuck to it, and a pipe. The one with the bat was grinning viciously, and it was clear he was eager to use it. Neil backed up, only for his back to hit another thug. The thug roughly shoved him back, and they closed in around him.
“So, what’s a tin can like you doing out so late? You’re not trying to cause trouble, are you?” the thug with the bat asked.
“N-no,” Neil frantically shook his head. “I was just going home.” He held up the pamphlets. “I was sp-spreading the w-word of the Sh-Shambali. W-would you like a – ah!”
A thug slapped the pamphlets out of his hand. “Please, leave me alone,” Neil begged pitifully. “I-I can give you money – “
The bat connected with Neil’s head, leaving a large dent in it. Neil fell to the ground, and he could only curl up and whimper as the thugs beat him into the dirt.
“Don’t young punks like you have better things to do besides pick on omnics?”
The thugs stopped beating Neil to look at the newcomer. Neil uncurled and saw a tall, white-haired stranger, wearing a mask with a red visor. Now he was afraid that this stranger was going to get beaten up as well. “Please…” he said softly.
“It’s a bucket of bolts,” one thug said. “What? You gotta problem with us getting rid of trash, pendejo?”
The stranger stepped forward. “I advise you to stop. Or else I’ll have to make you.”
The thugs laughed. “Make us? Oh, that’s rich, coming from a guy with no weapon!”
“Hit me with your best shot then.”
Two thugs ran forward. One thug punched the stranger in the chest, but he was the one who pulled his fist back, cradling it in pain. “Ow! What the hell…?”
The other thug threw both of his fists at the stranger, only for the stranger to grab his arms. “Hey, let go of me! Let go – AAAAAAAHHHHH!”
The stranger squeezed the thug’s arms, and a sickening crunch was heard. The stranger let go, and the thug dropped to the ground, still screaming in agony from his shattered arms. The stranger looked at the rest of the gang, who were now all plainly terrified.
“You punks should get your friend here to the hospital. Or are you all too stupid to know when to quit?”
Nobody moved. Then one thug pulled out a knife. “Let’s get him!”
The thugs all roared in response and rushed at the stranger. The stranger struck like lightning. He grabbed the knife-wielding thug by the wrist and snapped it before kneeing him in the gut, sending him flying. One jumped him from behind, only to get elbowed to the face and tossed off. The thug with the bat raised it, only to get a solid punch to the jaw, and he landed in an unconscious heap, some of his teeth now scattered across the ground. A pipe connected with the stranger’s head, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he glared at the thug and growled. He snatched the pipe out of the thug’s hands, knocked him to the ground, and firmly planted his foot on his back. The thug screamed and begged as the stranger twisted the pipe with ease and wrapped it around his wrists.
Only one thug was left, and he had only managed to avoid injury by keeping his distance the entire time. The stranger slowly approached him. The thug fumbled at his holster, and pulled out a pistol. The stranger casually swatted it out of his hand. He roughly grabbed the thug by the shirt. “Don’t let me ever catch you punks making a mess on these streets again. Otherwise it’s going to be a lot more hospital visits for you, and each one will be more unpleasant than the last. Understood?” The thug nodded fearfully, and the stranger threw him aside.
The stranger walked over to Neil and helped him stand. “Thank you…” Neil said gratefully. “Who are you?”
“Just a soldier. Soldier: 76. Where can I find someone who can fix you up?”
“Jennifer,” Neil gave Soldier: 76 her address. “She helps all omnics who need repairs.”
“I have a question. Can she keep a secret?”
“Yes, she can. Why do you ask?”
Soldier: 76 removed his mask, showing Neil his face. “Oh…” he said, understanding. “Yes, she will help you too.”
Soldier: 76 put his mask back on, and they headed to Jennifer’s place together. While they walked, Neil spoke. “I greatly appreciate you helping me back there, but…did you have to use so much force against them? It seemed…excessive.”
“Hurting people is what I’m good at. It’s what I was made for.”
“But you could be more than that!” Neil cried out in dismay. “Like the rest of us, you could be more than what you were made for!”
Soldier: 76 laughed, and it was a hollow, bitter sound.
“I lost my chance for that a long time ago.”