So this is actually my first story ever. Well, no. Actually in first grade, I wrote a short story about a man who went to work for a whole year and when he came back, his cup of coffee his wife made him was still on the table, but now it was cold. xD I wanted to try writing a story, but could never get an idea. Even now, I don't have a complete plot worked out, just a rough idea of where I want to go with this. This is based of the online game Gunz, which I love (mostly because it's free). Like most MMORPGs, Gunz has a backstory which actually has no importance in the game itself. So I figured why not make a story out of it. You don't need to read the spoiler. It's just the info the Gunz site had. I'll put it all into the story eventually, but figured I should share it so those not familiar with the game will have some idea. Spoiler Spoiler looks funky...blame it on the editor I use. Anyways, criticism is appreciated and, of course, expected. Like I said, it's my first story. I don't think I'm as creative as people say so I personally think it sucks. This is more of a rough draft. I might change it later. I did it pretty quickly. It's a little longer than I wanted, and I didn't put all the description I wanted. More will come in the next chapter, if I continue. So without further adieu. Chapter 1 Enter Rhony -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Click. The sound of a handgun cocking made Rhony turn around. He realized he was wrong: the barrel of a shotgun, not a handgun, was staring right at him. It was less than an inch from face, aimed between his eyes. Too surprised to move, Rhony braced himself for his death, arrest, or robbery. After a moment passed and nothing happened, his gaze focused on who was holding the gun, but there was no one there; it was floating in midair. “What the-“, his sentence was cut off as the shotgun fired right into his face. “No!†yelled the man who had suddenly awoke from his slumber. The other passengers on the train watched him curiously. The man looked back at them, wiping off a small amount of drool from his lip. “Sorry,†he mumbled, sitting up. What a dream, he thought, staring at his hands. A pair of leather gloves stared back at him, but Rhony was no longer paying attention to what he was looking at; his mind had already drifted into thought. He was silently complaining to himself that this was the longest train ride he’s ever had when a word snapped him back into reality. His opened hands clenched into fists as he slowly turned his head to his right, towards the sound of the whispering. Two men, possibly in their 40s, were watching him, not bothering to hide it, as they whispered to one another. They were the only ones on the train that kept watching Rhony after he woke up, and he suspected they had been since he was asleep. The taller one, who was clean shaven, mumbled the word again to his companion, “anarchist,†along with a few choice words and a look of disgust. His companion, slightly stockier with a thick mustache, nodded in agreement. Rhony took his gaze off them and slouched. He then reached to his neck and popped the collar of his jacket, trying to look less suspicious. Turning his head to the window, he analyzed his appearance. His light brown hair reached past his eyes, almost hiding the rare condition which made his right eye brown, and his left eye green. A small scar reached from the bridge of his nose to his cheek. A thin silver chain dangled from his neck. The charm couldn’t be seen through his shirt, just how he liked it. The right side of his face was had a few small piercings: one slightly above the edge of his eyebrow, another on his nose, one below the corner of his bottom lip, and two small ones on his ear, one on the lob, one on the edge. The piercings usually made people notice him. Back home, this wasn’t a problem, but, unfortunately, he wasn’t home. The quick, rude, and not-so-quiet whispering made behind him made that clear. The train ride became bumpier as it slowed down and finally stopped. Rhony stood up along with the rest of the passengers and turned his head to look at the two men. He wasn’t surprised to find them still watching him. Adjusting the bag that was strapped to his back, he took his eyes off them and hurried off the train. He had bumped into a few people on his way off the platform, but didn’t bother to apologize, earning another set of choice words. He paid them no mind as he hurried away from the train station. The heavy smell of smoke seemed to follow him, but the loud roar of the train’s engine was left behind. He looked around at the town, an eyebrow raised. Arcaeum hasn’t changed a bit since he had last visited it. The streets were covered in stands where merchants were selling their various merchandise. He was well aware of the fact that this country wasn’t as modernized as where he was raised, but sometimes one could barely tell. This country was still ruled by a throne and nobility while he was used to a much more urban setting where money was all the class you needed and law was set by a president. He was obviously an outsider, but he blended in with the merchants and the buyers quite well. He had what could be called an orange business coat over a white shirt that was usually unbuttoned. His pants reached his feet, which were protected by thick boots. This was the basic look for most “urbanized†civilians. He kept walking, staring at the wide range of merchandise. While most of the stands were filled with clothes, jewels, and other random items, a few of them had weapons ranging from small daggers to katanas, from pistols to shotguns, even smoke grenades and, of course, ammo. He’s seen better displays than the ones Arcaeum had to offer, but it still wasn’t too bad. He almost stumbled as he passed another stand, this one dedicated solely to shotguns, remembering his dream. A scuffle of feet behind him sent the dream out of his head. “Not you two,†he muttered angrily as he turned around. The two men from the train had followed him. They tried to be inconspicuous, immediately turning around when he saw them, but they were too obvious. He should have expected this, things like this happened commonly to people in his profession, but it still frustrated him. Oh well, let’s do this, he thought as he smiled. He raised one hand, adjusted his bag one more time. He then turned his hand so the palm faced the men, who were now watching him again, curiously, and bent the fingers to wave. He then turned around and took off running through the crowd. He was, once again, bumping into people, but this time he was shoving them out of the way. Angry yells were indistinct as he made a sharp turn into an alley. He ran halfway down and turned around, smiling at the two men who had, to his surprise, stayed on his tail. The taller one was obviously out of breath, but the shorter one had a furious expression. “I have to say,†Rhony addressed them, his smile shrinking, “I didn’t think you could keep up.†“Shut up, anarchist,†the stocky, short one snapped. He spit into the dirt as he started approaching Rhony. “We don’t appreciate your kind here,†he told Rhony, his eyes fixated on the bag on the lone man’s bag. “My kind?†Rhony asked, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m just a poor traveler looking for a job in this wonderful town.†He almost laughed at his own statement, but managed to keep a straight face. “Traveler? Don’t make me laugh!†This time it was the taller one who spoke. “We know what ya really are, just by lookin’ at’cha! Yer a rebel! A good for nothin’ anarchist!†He finished with his finger pointing angrily at Rhone’s chest. “Tell us, what’s in yer bag?†His partner nodded in agreement, slowly getting closer as he clenched his fists. “My clothes,†Rhone almost said, but he knew his jig was up. “Fine, if you must know,†he grabbed the strap and pulled it over his head, taking the bag off. “I have a twin pair of swords and a rifle,†he told them honestly. This seemed to send the men off the edge as the stocky one tackled Rhony. Not having time to react, Rhony was sent backwards, letting go of his bag, and landed on his back. Using the momentum, he rolled backwards, landing in a crouched position, and lunged at the man. His arms wrapped around the man’s waist and his shoulder jabbed his stomach. They both fell down, but Rhony was on top. “You narrow-minded old man!†He yelled as his fist struck the man’s face. Before he could hit him again, he heard a grunt and rolled off, barely avoiding a kick to his side from the taller man. The taller man stumbled as his kick missed. Catching his balance, he ran towards Rhony, yelling obscenities as the traveler stood up and darted towards his bag. He grabbed the strap and turned around quickly, swinging it as hard as he could. Just as he planned, he hit the tall man in the face, knocking him down to his side. He looked at the stockier man, who was finally getting up, before turning around and running out of the alley as fast as he could. He gasped as he darted through the streets, taking all the turns he could, careful to avoid running into any more people this time. After a few minutes, he stopped. He turned around and, to his joy, saw the men weren’t behind him. He leaned against the wall of thbuilding next to him and tried to catch his breath. He slouched and put his hands on his knees, dropping his bag to the floor. “The Axium Empire,†he muttered, “hasn’t changed a bit.â€
