For Money, For Blood

Starring: Aaron Crosser 

Lore
Chrome City is home to innocence, or at least was. However, that fact leaves the mind of its citizens swiftly as it’s overwhelmed by the fear of not knowing you’ll be able to return home once you step outside. Society works to continue and persevere despite the consistent rise of crime in the city. Seeing the lack of restrictions in place to stop these incidents from occurring only encourages more violence and emboldens more thieves. Someone has to do something.

Aaron sat in his office chair with his feet on his desk, a bottle of whiskey in his right hand and a clipboard with a large stack of papers in his left. The words on the papers he read were messily written and scrawled on the lines, barely legible. But it didn't seem to inhibit the fox. He silently read what was written on the sheets, his tail slowly swinging behind the wheels of the chair as he took a swig of his drink. It was then, when rapid footsteps came rushing toward his office door. Aaron's left ear twitched as the door opened.

"Captain! We got one!" A tall wolf with a small amount of scars on his face announced as he stepped inside the room. Aaron's bright golden eyes shifted toward the wolf, but he remained silent with the whiskey bottle still pressed against his lips.

"...S-Sir?" The wolf stuttered, his ears lowering minutely. The red-orange fox replied by lifting a finger, taking a few more gulps of the hard liquor as he closed his eyes. The room was silent other than Aaron's couple of gulps. He lowered the bottle with a satisfied sigh before he wiped his mouth. Aaron kicked his chair back and stood up, placing the whiskey bottle on the desk. He started walking toward the door, grabbing a dark grey and blue colored pistol from the desk. The wolf towered over towered over Aaron, but visibly tensed up as the smaller fox walked up to him.

“Where?” Aaron asked, lifting his head to make eye contact with the wolf.

“D-Downtown, warehouse looking building on Kyton street…” The wolf replied, gesturing in the direction with his finger. The fox nodded and continued walking, his tail hung low as his boots clopped against the floor with each step. Aaron left the building, quickly making his way across the city. He sprinted down the asphalt, the city lit only by billboards, street lights, and light of the full moon above. Chrome City was relatively calm later at night, though there was no curfew, it became a societal norm to be in your home before it got too dark. Consequently, there were very few people out as Aaron made his way through. The fox’s eyes wandered around at his surroundings as he grew closer to his destination. The streets grew narrower and more compact with the nearby buildings and skyscrapers. Aaron slowed his sprint to a jog as he continued to glance around. His jog gradually became a steady paced walk as he drew his energy pistol. His eyes slowly and cautiously scanned the area as he stepped through. His target was close. He could feel it. As he continued to carefully make his way down the street, his ear twitched as he picked up a faint buzzing sound. The fox swiftly jumped to his right just narrowing dodging out of the way of the throwing-knife. The knife barely misses the fur on his cheek, whizzing by as he flipped over to his feet. Aaron looked toward where the knife had flown from before a boot immediately struck him on his right cheek, knocking him backward and onto the ground.

"Crosser, why am I not surprised to see you." The armed thief snarled, standing over the fox. Aaron was silent as he sat up, wiping blood from his mouth.

"What made you come out of that office to get me yourself, huh?" The thief taunted as he started to pace around the grounded mercenary. "Got a little too bored? A little tipsy and needed to blow off that drunken rage? Or is your faction running out of money?" Aaron didn't respond. He turned his head toward the wanted criminal who had a very cocky grin on his face.

"It'd be a shame if Kenshi lost its leader." The thief chuckled, pulling out three more throwing knives from a pouch he had strapped to his leg. Aaron grunted before he pushed himself up with his right hand, twisting his lower body to sweep his foot under his foe. The criminal short hopped over Aaron's boot, landing to throw one of his daggers before the heel of Aaron's left foot came smashing into his jaw. The criminal staggered backwards as Aaron jumped to his feet.

"Grraahh!!" Growled the thief as he charged for the fox, throwing a punch to his gut. Aaron sidestepped the punch to his right and rammed his elbow into his enemy's sternum. As the thief stepped back, Aaron threw a roundhouse kick to his foe's chest. The criminal gasped for air as he was knocked back once more, hitting the ground and clutching his chest. Aaron looked to his enemy on the ground. The fox walked toward the thief, planting the heel of his boot in his stomach.

"Aghh!" B-Bastard!!" The thief cried, gripping Aaron's boot at the ankle. The mercenary's face was blank. Emotionless. Remorseless. "All of you b-bastards are the same!! You don't care about anyone!! All you care about is the money!!" Aaron scowled minutely before he pressed his heel further into the thief's gut, earning more screams from the downed man. The thief groaned and shifted underneath Aaron's booth, panting and gasping. The mercenary then leaned forward and dug his hand into the thief's pouch, pulling out one of his knives.

"Mercenaries are very different from one another." The fox finally spoke, gazing over his new weapon, "Some are in it for the money… some are in it for the adrenaline… and others… want to purge their home of scum like you." The thief grimaced heavily as he still fought to free himself.

"It just so happens that I get paid while doing it." Aaron concluded, turning his head to the criminal. The fox leaned forward again, placing the knife on the criminal's neck. He gasped as he felt the cold blade edge against his flesh, digging just enough to draw blood. The criminal shook with fear, his eyes widening as he stared at Aaron.

"No, no, no, n-n- wait! Wait, wait, w-wait! Please, p-please…" he pleaded, "J-Just take me t-to jail, don't kill-"

"It's far too late for that." Aaron interjected, pressing the blade deeper. The thief's trembling intensified as his breathing grew shallow and he kicked his legs under the fox’s pressure, "It was too late when your name went across my desk." Without another moment passing, Aaron swung his arm and slashed the thief's throat wide open. The thief made one final yelp as the knife sliced his neck open, quickly being replaced by blood filled gurgles. His hands hopelessly reached for his throat as the deep red fluid quickly rushed out, his eyes shaking and limbs trembling. Aaron stepped back, wiping the blood from his face as he turned his back to the dying thief. The mercenary gripped the handle of the knife he held tightly before he started walking, his face as expressionless as when he had arrived. The gurgles of the thief grew quiet and soon it was silent, only the clopping of the mercenary’s boots hitting the pavement as he left. His job was done.

“One less to worry about.” He said to himself, a gentle sigh escaping his lips…

“Who’s next?”