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heyyyyyyyy guys
it's been a while since we've posted any real writing, but we finished smth a few days ago. it's for Hunter, not Scintillam, sorry, but we had to write something and Hunter was what we could get ourself to type out, so Hunter is what you get "well why did it take you a few days to post it" well, for one, we had to get it proofread rq(thanks to @artnerd1123 for that <3), and secondly we just... kind of ended up overthinking ourself into a downward death spiral over it. we're not getting into why.
fun fact, actually- this third chapter of Hunter had over FIVE complete rewrites! some of those earlier versions are going to be reworked into later chapters, but the long and short of it is just "it feels too early to jump into the main meat of the story, and we have character building to do" so we're doing a bit more character building
anywhere, here u go
A small, desert planet. Relatively close to Terran Standard Hours, but not quite. Mostly empty, save for an early settlement or two, and a few camps. Temperate for most of the year, despite its ecology. Might not even need terraforming to grow plants. The main issue was the wildlife. But those were all facts for planetary settlers to worry about.
The planet’s gravity was what one was focused on today. It was slightly heavier than something like earth. Not enough to affect day to day life, for the most part.
But it was enough to affect the trajectory of a bullet.
Bang. “Shit-!”
Nothing new to an interplanetary bounty hunter, however. Just some slight calibrations, that was all that was needed. Raise the scope by a few micrometers.
Bang.
Increase power to the chamber.
Bang.
A few more micrometers, accounting for the heavier rounds.
Bang.
Steep walls around the camp, nestled in a ravine. Account for tailwind.
Bang.
A stomach flat on the ground. Low. Shields charged, just in case. Comfortable, laying next to a neat stack of fresh mags. The boxy magazines were heavy enough you could kill someone just by hitting them with it. The bullets were large, and each mag held two dozen. Quick kills, long distance, armor piercing. Perhaps a bit expensive to be shooting at common pirates, but everyone would get one. She made sure she brought enough to share with the whole class.
Two pirates stood nestled behind a rock, cowering from the shooting range their camp had turned into, rifles at the ready. Others were ducked tightly, hugging the ground around the camp as they found cover, while the unlucky ones littered the killbox. The armored ones had holes blown in their chest pieces. The more fragile ones had limb scattered about, a few heads that simply vanished.
“The fuck are you lot waitin’ for?!” The big one yelled from across the way, voice gravely and slightly distorted by a low quality speaker in his helmet. He was bulky, armored, with two sets of arms- clearly the leader, or the closest thing the pirates had to one left. “Get out there or-!”
“All due respect, hoss,” another called, human, frontier accent, “that ain’t happenin’.”
“It’s one hunter!” He bellowed in return towards his uppity accomplice. “One human-! They can’t kill us all!”
“True enough, everyone willin’ to gamble their heads in that open sightline, say aye!” He gave a snarky, shiteating grin as he glanced around at the sheer reluctance that permeated the camp. “... sounds like the crowd has spoken. God bless democracy.”
“Shut up, scragfuck-!”
Bang.
Everyone flinched, and one fell to the ground in a panic, nearly dropping his weapon as the bullet pierced his cover and impacted the dirt next to him.
“It was your idea to set up camp here, ‘hoss’.” The big one growled, hunkering down as much as his frame and joints would allow.
“... that it were, that it were indeed.” He admitted, sucking in a reluctant breath of air. “I said it would be defensible, and… well, it is, but…”
“But, our gods damned camp is getting slaughtered by one sniper because there’s no scragfucking cover!”
“I am acutely aware, hoss-”
“Well then come up with a solution, ‘deputy’-!”
“I am working on it, scragshit-!”
Bang. “Fuck-!” The deep, bassy explosion of the bullet exiting the barrel once again shook the nerves of everyone in camp, this time managing to pierce the steel wall one was hiding behind, going limp from their prior crouched position.
He took a breath.
He looked around at everyone at camp, all the crouched figures, the one standing next to him, and all the bodies. He raised his gun around the rocky corner, slowly deliberately, and tossed it to the ground.
A moment of silence later, and he stepped out from his cover, hands up.
“What are you doing-?!” The boss whispered, gripping his weapon.
“Shh-!” He stepped forward, towards the mouth of the ravine. Bang. Everyone flinched, but no-one flinched quite as hard as the deputy, tripping over his own two feet and landing on his ass as the bullet landed mere inches from his foot. “Fuck-!”
“Not one step closer, ‘hoss’.” The voice on the other end of the scope called, voice modulated slightly and boosted moderately by the high quality speaker in her suit.
“I ain’t armed! See?” He gestured to the rifle on the ground, slowly accumulating desert dust as he slowly made his way to his feet, hands still in the air. “They pay more for alive than dead, don’t they? Like in the movies?” He forced a lighthearted chuckle, halfway between a smile and a wince.
“We may be in a desert, and you might be dressed like a cowboy, but this isn’t a western.” Ariis retorted, unmoving.
“Look- we… we got a lot of money back here!” He loosened his posture slightly, shrugging. “I’m just saying! We could pay ya a lot more than whatever those hick colonists are payin’ ya!”
“And you’ll shoot me in the back when I come to collect. Or you’ll try to, anyway. Cute.”
“No- ma’am, you have my word, on my gentlemanly honor,” he placed a hand on his chest, and one in the air, “no harm shall come to you, if you deliver no more harm unto us. You can take the money and go.”
“Is that even your real accent?”
His voice hitched a bit, stammering quietly and briefly. “I… y-yeah? ‘Course it is-”
“Oh, so you’re just leaning into the bit, then?”
“Well, I… I-I-I have a reputation to uphold, y’see.”
“I am aware.” She shot, coldly, finger menacingly depressing the trigger slightly, despite no living thing being close enough to witness the threat. “People pay a lot for reputations, ‘y’see’.”
He swallowed a ball of fear, glancing towards the sweet embrace of the rock he was previously hunkered behind.
“Unfortunately for you and your gang, your reputation is the sort that gets me paid just as good dead as alive, because they’re gonna kill you anyway.”
“... w-why uh… haven’t ya shot me, then?”
She shrugged invisibly, not disturbing her firing stance. “Curiosity, mostly.”
“... w-well… if it makes a lick a’ difference, uh… i-it ain’t my gang-”
“Semantics.” She sucked in air, holding it in her lungs. “... and semantics isn’t my line of work.” Bang.
A shot through the heart, left arm ripped violently from its socket and flying halfway across the ravine. Dead, instantly.
Exhale.
“This is an odd job, boys.” She called from her perch, smiling under her helmet. “You know what that means? That means I don’t have anywhere better to be. Go ahead. If anyone else wants to be a hero or a smartass, then step forward.”
The stand off continued well into the night. It wasn’t until the sun broke the horizon that the last of them were dead. A few more bullets spent than she’d like, but such is life. Nobody’s perfect.
She took a few souvenirs, just things to show to the client to prove the job was done, and collect her reward. A shootout with some hick gang on a backwater planet… a far cry from the diplomatic assassination from months ago. But there always had to be smaller jobs like this when things got slow, to break up the monotony.
“And they’re all dead?” The representative questioned, looking the hunter up and down.
“Yes, I wouldn’t be back if they weren’t.” Ariis snapped, arms crossed as her attitude was growing increasingly cross. “I did all the paperwork. You can either give me my money, or I can file a complaint with my handler.”
“That- that won’t be necessary, miss Sol-” They coughed awkwardly, and started to fidget with a tablet. “The money will be in your account before you go offworld. Thank you for your service.”
She just wordlessly stepped out. Funny how she always felt more at home staring down a kill zone through a scope in a dusty ravine than in a clean office filing paperwork. Bureaucracy scared her more than any mark.
She was about to hop in her ship after that, at least until she saw a familiar ‘face’ lumbering his way up to her at the shipyard.
“Wait… is that-?”
[There she is.] The voice was deep, heavily modulated and very low quality, using an old speaker to broadcast an ancient translator in a patchwork junker of an environment suit. A juggernaut of a sentient, various multicolored tubes sticking out of and snaking into various ports.
“Uncle Guz!” She called, stepping back down from her ship’s side and towards him, meeting him halfway up the landing pad. “It’s been too long, what are you doing in this backwater?”
[Looking for you, actually.] He muttered, face hidden behind the emotionless, multi eyed faceplate of his env suit.
“For me?” She parroted skeptically. “... I’m guessing it’s not just to say hi.”
[Smart girl.] He handed a tablet off to her, staying silent for a moment as she browsed its contents. [Wanted to take you along for a jank. Gib. J-] Guz smacked the side of his helmet, a reverberating clang startling the technicians, but not Ariis. [Job.]
She just let out a sigh. “... this isn’t a salvage job.”
[Salvaging isn’t my only culling. Calling.] A very muffled, bubbly groan that wasn’t picked up by the translator barely managed to make its way out of the suit. He was going to need to replace that translator eventually.
“I know.” She handed the tablet back off, the giant shuffling it back into a pack at his side. “But still, was hoping we were going to get drinks or something.”
[Maybe after, toddler.] Another barely audible groan.
“Yeah, that nickname never translates well, even with the new ones.” She chuckled lightly. “Still, I just got done clearing pirates, and now I’m getting dragged along to kill more…”
[No-one is dragging you along.]
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m not coming.” She tilted her head slightly. “You wanna take my ship? It’s faster.
[No. Too quiet. If a ship’s too quiet-]
“-then something’s broken, I know.” She sighed. “You’re attached to your junker.”
[Gertrude just has character.]
“A spaceship has as much character as you give it.” She turned on her heel, heading back towards her own spaceship. “See you there, then. Don’t break down on the way.”
[No promises.] Despite the monotone of the translator, she could feel the sarcasm as he turned and started to board his own characteristically boxy, patchwork ship. Compared to hers, it looked like a brick. That was part of its charm, though. Always was.
… never a dull day.