No one expected a wolf to carry a gun. Then again, no one expected to not carry a gun, not when everything’s gone to shit.
Well, not everyone liked to play with guns. Many preferred the sword, the knife, a club, or anything they can make from scraps and metals strewn across the wasteland. But a gun? It was too high maintenance, too expensive to use, especially when no one bothered to manufacture bullets like it was years ago. The only reason it was still available was the surplus created during the war that happened countless years ago. The bullets were hardy and survived the ages, serving as templates for the present. Yet, it was quite rare. The wasteland was vast, but those things were not everywhere. Sometimes, he was lucky to stumble upon a gun shop with all its stock intact, or even an armory that had not been raided. Those were the days. Otherwise, he would spend his hard-earned cash to buy some. Too bad that’s as rare as the armories or the shops. Making them himself sounded like a better alternative, but who got time for that?
He had no plan to stay in one place for long. The longer he stayed to wait, the more chances he would miss. Thus, he learned not to waste his bullets. He regarded them as valuable as the money he carried. One wasted shot meant he lost five. Good thing he knew some magic. He never completely relied on his own accuracy. He knew it would never be perfect, no matter how skilled he was with his guns.
And when he deemed the bullets would not work, he still had his teeth and claws. If they didn’t work, knives would do the trick. Better to have more options than none. Made use of everything you had, especially if you were born with it.
That’s what Jacques Barlow, a Loup-Garou, believed in. He believed it because it increased his chance of survival while also made the best use of his chosen discipline. He was a rare kind. A Loup-Garou who preferred guns than claws was almost unheard of. But then, that’s what made him quite a personality.
Surprisingly, that uniqueness did not turn many heads. Either they were scared of him, or they simply did not care. Jacques did not care. The less heads turned, the better. Being associated with some shady group or shadier people would only give him more enemies than allies. He had plenty of experience with that, and he preferred not to repeat the same mistake.
For him, an unaffiliated living meant that he was anonymous. He took bounties for the money. He didn’t care who he worked for. If the job was given by the haven law enforcers, then he’d take it. If the job was given by a crime lord, he’d take it, but only when their association ended the moment he earned the prize. He would hunt anyone with a price on their heads. It was his way to survive. His life choice.
Yet, Jacques always knew that this commitment of staying out of anyone’s business would not last long, and that’s what frustrated him. He knew that one day, he would be put in a situation where he must make a hard choice. He was fortunate that the choice was clear and all he got to do was choose the option that would be the most logical choice.
But then he took the job. That’s when he found, to his annoyance, that his time as an unaffiliated ‘lone wolf’ would end.
***
Jacques had always been careful on picking his bounties. He abhorred competition but refused to play dirty on account of his pride. If he wanted to, he could actively make sure he would be the only bounty hunter around. But that would only make him a prominent player, which was against what he wanted: anonymity.
But as luck would have it, a chance encounter would set him into a path that would let him reflect on his decisions up to that point.
It was a usual journey for the brown-furred Loup. Walking between major settlements were usually uneventful except for some occasional ambushes or attacks from the beasts that made the wasteland their hunting ground. When anything happened, the Loup would be ready.
That would be the case if it wasn’t for him stumbling upon a runaway slave.
Despite everything he had encountered before, this one encounter was something he did not expect. As Jacques stopped near a ruined building to take a short rest, he heard scraping noises. Jacques’s ears perked as he heard it as he pulled out his revolver and turned towards the source of the voice.
He came face-to-face with a shocked and scared beast person, who was wide-eyed as he froze in place. Even Jacques was surprised, though he recovered much quicker before he examined the still-scared beast man. All Jacques could do was disengage and put his gun in his holster upon seeing the state of the beast person.
Calling him ‘miserable’ was an understatement. His getup screamed ‘runaway slave’, especially the rusted iron collar and the unkempt, dirty fur. There was no strand of clothing on him except for the collar, the rope binding his hands behind his back, and broken shackles around his legs, with the rusted chains clearly broken by a strong enough force that freed him. As if he wasn't miserable enough, he was forced to wear a bit gag that uncomfortably kept his maws open, with the slave forced to bite down by the rope that bind his maws like a muzzle. His teeth were misshapen, forced to bite down the wooden log. If he could still move his jaws, he would easily gnaw through the bit. The scraping noises was his attempt to cut the rope binding his arms on a nearby rock.
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Finally, to top it all off, the runaway slave was a Fa’ar, or ratfolk. Considered vermin to everyone, even among fellow beast people, they multiplied very quickly, much like the rabbit people, but unlike them, Fa’ars were dirty, and most of them were unpleasant. Jacques got a lot of bounties from them as he considered them easy targets. They were cowardly, weak, and most importantly, so vilified to the point where they could not find proper allies. All because they were rats, both in appearance and in personality.
Yet, in his bounty hunting career, Jacques had never met a rat so miserable that he sympathized with him. Jacques could easily discern between genuine terror or an act. The Fa'ar looked scared and vulnerable. He had no weapons, no clothes, and no means to defend himself. Jacques could even grab him and put him on the shoulder without so much of a meaningful resistance, not when his arms were bound and his teeth sealed.
And while it wasn’t very apparent for anyone else, Jacques could tell that the Fa’ar was not even an adult. How anyone could treat a young Fa’ar like this was intolerable for Jacques, as the Fa’ar froze and started to cry, shaking his head as he apparently thought Jacques would do something worse than the slavers he ran from, evident from the still fresh whip marks on his back.
And here, Jacques was presented with a dilemma that he never thought he would face. He could free the slave from his bindings and give him something to wear, but then he would have to return the slave to his owner as he clearly had a very prominent brand on his shaved back. Even if he dropped off the Fa’ar in a free town, it would still happen, as he no longer had his freedom the moment he had the brand. His owners could easily trace him using a tracking spell. There was a small chance that he was considered expendable, but it was a very small chance, and Fa’ars were known to be resilient enough for hard labor, even children.
Or he could leave the slave alone, pretending they never met so the Loup could go on with his life, unburdened with whatever happened between the slave and his owners. But Jacques was not that heartless, especially to a child. How could he? He could be cold towards adults because he knew they made the wrong choices that landed them into their situation, but this was a child, who clearly had all his freedom taken from him. At the same time, he did not want to deal with a Fa’ar who could easily betray him, which was the main reason why he actively avoided associating with them unless it was for the bounty on their heads or a store owner.
But he was just a child. Jacques couldn’t just leave a child to die alone in the middle of a wasteland, even if he was a Fa'ar. It would weigh heavily on his conscience, enough to make him depressed. It would take years for him to move on from that, and he couldn’t bear it. Maybe he could, but that would make him feel like shit.
Jacques deliberated in his mind, trying to find the best logical conclusion for this situation. He couldn’t think straight, not when the confused Fa’ar child was still tied up and was clearly hurting and scared.
He concluded that he couldn’t waste his time trying to help the child. It was not the best choice, but all he could do for the Fa’ar was to return him. He did not want to become burdened by a traveling companion who would end up reclaimed anyway. The other, more direct course of action would be to track down the slavers and kill them. That would be the freedom the Fa’ar needed. The last option was a quick death. That was never Jacques's option.
Jacques had no choice but to tell the Fa’ar about this. Reluctantly, he approached the scared Fa’ar and said, “I can’t help you, Fa’ar. I’m sorry.”
The Fa’ar child’s expression turned from scared, to shocked, then depressed, all in quick succession. Jacques felt like shit saying that. Clearly, the child was hoping that he could help him escape, maybe even free him from the tracking spell. Alas, Jacques had no knowledge of a counter spell. He could try and find one, but would anyone wanted to help a Fa’ar?
The Fa’ar slave quickly surrendered and fell to his knees, crying as Jacques grabbed him and slung him over his back like a bag. He could at least reduce his suffering by not forcing him to walk through the wasteland without anything to wear. He wanted to stop and close his wounds, but he felt that it would be a waste of time. His owners would only give him an even worse treatment when they realized that his wounds were healed. Considering what was implied by his current situation, that would be possible. Jacques tried not to think too much about it. Once he returned the Fa’ar child, his association with him was over.
But part of him felt that all he did was subjecting the child to a life of pain and suffering. It was no different than hell. It was as wrong as leaving him to die. Jacques lamented the fact that everything he did would not lead to the child’s salvation unless he killed the slavers.
His conflicted mind made him forgot that the Fa’ar child did not even struggle as they walked. The child already knew that escaping was useless. He always knew that no one would be willing to risk their lives helping a rat. Still, he was fortunate that the wolf man did not eat him. He heard they ate Fa’ars when there wasn’t any food left, considering the rat people to be preys.
He only wished that he wouldn't be punished too harshly, but that's wistful thinking. Maybe it’s better if he could kill himself and be done with it. Yet…he couldn’t, and all he could do was surrender to his fate.
As for Jacques, he started to have second thoughts about returning the Fa’ar child when he found a convoy of slaves. By this point, Jacques started to weigh his options as one of the humans noticed him and seemed to identify the Fa’ar on his shoulder as the missing slave. He started approaching the Loup, causing Jacques to start thinking what he should do.
Whatever decision he made would seal the fate of the Fa’ar child on his shoulder.