text: "Those sirens never get old. They never stop and probably won't. They haven't stopped since my earliest memory. The only constant thing in this life we share. No one knows what happened before but that doesn't matter. They left us with this ground. Desolate and infertile. Nothing grows. The sky filled with grey and white tones. While there are night and day, we never see where the light comes from. The clerics' talk of stories of this bright entity in blue colored skies covering fields of green. Structures that put what we have to shame. Spires that broke the sky. Machines that made machines. And then conflict. One not ever seen before. The cause of all this despair. But we have thrived and discovered our past before the great desolation. Tools, materials, knowledge, and worst of all, weapons. We have little but we live on. We suffer loss but we can't stop. That would be the end of the last precious thing we have. Our lives." The man downed the last gulp of his drink. Continuing spitting the bullshit the barkeep has heard before. The past this, the past that. That couldn't be changed and he knew that. They both did however one was sober and the other drunk of the alchest from the past. How ironic the barkeep thought. He asked if the man needed anything else before he left to clean the tables. The man couldn't even speak. He left and began to clean the few tables he crafted. Crude yet sturdy, like the barkeep. The creator does so in his own image. He gets caught up listening to another patrons' conversation before he realizes the man at the bar was reaching over the counter. The barkeep speaks up, "Can I help you with that?" The man looks over and pulls a bone shiv from his sleeve while rummaging his other. It's a common tool for most people so it wasn't surprising. As he pulled the shiv out, the man shouted to stay away. The few others that were in there looked on. Being threatened by a drunk wasn't new. And it will happen again. They tried to talk him down but he wasn't listening. He said he needed it to pay a debt. The barkeep didn't care but he kept quiet. The others keep talking. Finally, the barkeep spoke up. "Let me help so you don't make a mess." The man fell off his seat and threatened the barkeep, barely keeping his words together, "Stay away, you don't need to get hurt over this." The barkeep didn't care. He slowly stepped to the back of the bar and went to where he kept the payments for his services. He bent over to open the container. The barkeep began to stand and realized the man had moved almost on top of him behind the bar. He hadn't realized how tall this man was till now. He looked down on the barkeep, "Where is it?!" The keeper didn't answer. Again the man said, "Where is it!!" He lunged forward. The barkeep was ready. He stood as he came close. In the blink of an eye, the man's hand was gone. It landed on the bar counter. The man screamed in agony, collapsed, and crawled away from the barkeep clutching his now handless arm. The barkeep spoke in a thunderous tone, "Leave or I'll take an ear so you'll listen!" The man, who must have sobered up, stood and fled into the night. "Everybody out," the barkeep shouted. They listened and left as he asked. No one would disrespect one of the few people who can make alchest. When they left, he stood there, thinking. He hadn't used it in almost 30 years. The glow of his Ion blade caused a slight purple hue to bounce around the room. He stared at the blade that sat on the counter. It was about a meter in length, had an ornate metal handguard, and a matte grey metal blade. It was edged with an unknown material that allowed the weapon to produce the ionized edge. No ordinary man could obtain such a weapon, however. A tear fell from the barkeep's face as he poured himself a drink. He looked to the bottom of the glass. Looked out through the space in front of him and drank. Another vow broken. Survived through triumph, broken by experience. It all flooded back. The men who died next to him, the men who caused this. The men he killed. He broke down. It was all so close to being forgotten. He threw his glass against the wall. He could barely live with himself let alone in this fucked up place we have to call home. He sobbed for a good time. He finally composed himself, realizing he has to live on for those he lost, just long enough to walk to his room in the back of the bar and find the bed. He began the next day like any other; by picking up the mess from last night. Lucky for him the blade didn't cause any blood to drop from the man's stub. Blood is hard to remove from wood. So like most days, he finishes quickly. Swept the floor, straightened the counter, organized tables, and the like. And again, like most of those days, he's alone. Thinking. "What's the point?" he says to himself, almost remorseful. Like he betrayed his friend. But nevermind that, today's another day, and he must move on. He soon found himself alone again. Frozen. Like that day. He never liked that day. The commander kept reminding everyone. “They want your homes, they want your wives, and they want your land. They will take it if we don't stop them”. The things he did to protect what was his. He remembers the screams he heard. Almost Like a symphony when it's mixed with the slashing of weapons and the ripping of flesh as the raid occurred. He remembers watching his fellow soldier strike down a family with nothing but a blank stare. He became an empty husk of a man. Then, it was his ceremonious turn to spill blood and he saw his offering. A man, trying to escape. He chased him through the house, but he was too slow for a trained soldier. He grabbed the man. The man was speaking a different language. He ignited his ion blade... they never did bleed when he used that. The man went limp and slumped to the floor, falling over a table and knocking it over. There was a surprise underneath. A boy, maybe 7. The soldier the barkeep was did not know what he just did. He looked at his hands, not knowing he had this dangerous potential. He became a man he didn't want to. He looked at the boy and lit his blade one more time. The barkeep is knocked out of his trance. “Shit”, he said to himself. It's almost dusk and the bar was ready to be open. “How long had past?” He kept muttering obscenities to himself, cursing he let his day go away again. This happened often to him. Losing time. Nevermind that, there was something more pressing: the patrons. He opened the bar and not long after the place began to fill. More than usual. It was nice not to be alone. Drinks were being poured, conversations being made. Of course like any night, someone ruined the night and he was a familiar man. This time he wasn’t alone. The handless man from the other night had come back looking for revenge and thought he could do so through his friends. Some patrons left. The strong ones stayed and gave them no mind. He waited at the bar counter. The handless man came up and started to heckle the barkeep. What an arrogant man he was. The other men that were with him lined the counter next to the handless man. The 3 of them stayed quiet, just like the barkeep. Finally, after a few minutes of annoyance, the barkeep answered him, “Back again?” The handless man was back for what he was the first time he was here. This time he also wanted his hand. Well, the barkeep was not going to let that happen. He laughed slightly. The man was annoyed with that answer and grabbed the barkeep but the neck, demanding that he surrender the vault. The barkeep could barely get words out. The other patrons noticed and one had stepped up. This one sat in the corner all night and kept to himself. Interesting. The lonely man grabbed the handless man's shoulder, “I think it's best you let him go.” The handless man looked back and threw his hand away and nodded to his friends. The handless man let go. “Well, this is great,” the barkeep said to himself. The handless man let the barkeep go only because the lonely man had used his own blade against his friends. “Are you fucking kidding me,” the man shouted as he watched his friend catch the blade with his chest. The first man fell. The barkeep smashed a glass over the head of the handless man knocking him down. The others ran after they saw the barkeep ignite his ion blade from behind the counter. He followed them with curses as they returned to their holes. Everyone looked on as if they never saw him before. At least not like this. The lonely man grabbed the handless man, “I’ve been looking for this one for a while now.” He’s a bounty hunter apparently. The bounty hunter apologized for what he did and offered money or help to pick up the mess but the barkeep declined. The bounty hunter left without a noise after that. And that was it. Like any other night. All this action and it was over along with the night. This was not the chaos he was used to. Like other nights, he was off to bed. The next morning was different. He was woken by a knock at his door. It was the bounty hunter. “What the fuck?” he whispered. “What do you want” “I was hoping to ask a few questions as a follow up for what happened last night” “I thought your type wasn’t interested in details?” “I'm no ordinary bounty hunter, I guess.” The barkeep let him in. They took a table. The barkeep offered a drink. The hunter nodded and accepted it. “What is it you want to know?” “When did you first see him here?” “3 days ago. He came in by himself. He tried to steal from me so i defended himself.” “I'm assuming you took his hand?” The barkeep nodded. “And you let him go?” the hunter said “Yes. I had no idea he was a bounty or that hunters even came this way. The local gangs have had a hold out here for a while now” “Not anymore,” he said plainly. There was silence for a moment as the hunter wrote. “Now I have a few more questions for you and then we’ll be done” He flipped his notebook. “Where did you get the blade?” “Why does that matter?” “I’m curious,” said the hunter almost demanding “Do I have to ask you to leave?” “No. We all saw what happened that night. I'm the only one brave enough to ask about it.” The barkeep kept quiet for a moment. The hunter was a patient man. As if he waited his whole life for something. “I'm a soldier, or at least was one” the barkeep finally said. “The Unification?” The barkeep hung his head, “Yes.” “Any good stories?” The barkeep paused, “None that anyone should hear.” Another long moment passes with both of them silent. The barkeep spoke first for once. Maybe because he believed the hunter was someone who finally understood, “How about you?” What do you mean?” the hunter said almost surprised “What's your story? You're a bounty hunter with an impressive weapon, and you don’t hide it as I do. You were in a righteous war or something?” “No...,” he said softly, “I made this one myself actually. But my profession has a story.” The barkeep sat ready to listen like he had his other patrons. “It was a long time ago. I'll never forget. It was my birthday. My mother had passed before I wasn't even old enough to know her. It was just me and my father. He had gotten me a device that I could use to discover and listen to these random signals that exist invisibly in the air. It helped me find tools and equipment to make my weapon...” The barkeep kept listening and offered to get the hunter another drink. The hunter, again, nodded. The hunter took a long sip and continued, “... He tried his best and that's all that mattered. But that day is one I won't forget. We heard a loud bang nearby and my dad told me to hide. He was a soldier so he was always cautious since he had his war, he knew how to handle himself. I hid and as soon as I did he came running through the door. Soon after another set of legs entered. They were armored. He was screaming saying to leave us alone and not to hurt anyone.” The barkeep got up and went for his own drink. His first in years. He felt like it for once in his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he *wanted* to do something. He poured himself a tall glass while the hunter talked. He sat and pondered and let the words of the hunter go through his head. Not hearing anything. Finally, he took his sip. The hunter continued, “Then a faint glow appeared and a hissing noise. That man killed my father in cold blood. He fell out of the man's hands and knocked the table I was under over. The man looked down at me. He was frozen. Like he didn’t know what he just did.” The barkeep nodded not listening to what was being said. “You. You killed him” The barkeep stopped mid-sip. “What did you say?” “You remember, don’t you? That day. I remember your face. Do you remember mine?” The barkeep was frozen “Frozen again? How can you feel when you act like a monster?” The barkeep put his glass down, wiped his face, and looked at the boy. He remembered alright. Every bit of his face. “You look like your father.” “You shut the fuck up!!” he screamed as a tear ran down his face. “I'm sorry but...” “No...” The boy shouted, “...you don’t get to say that. Not after what you did. With no remorse” The barkeep was calm. Almost like he was in this position before. The barkeep said sternly, “Well what are you going to do, boy? You're the man now. You found your last bounty and you're going to cry? Yes I killed him and I gave up the blade after that day but I will do what I must to defend myself.” The barkeep ignited his blade. It was more red this time, from the overheating of the blade. “The same color as I remember,” the boy said, pulling his blade out. It was black. As dark as a moonless sky. A never-ending blackness that was the boy's heart. The barkeep walked around the counter and the boy stood up. They faced each other and prepared themselves. The boy is a vengeful mess. The soldier, ready for whatever fate was planning. They raised their weapons ready to end the years of pain for whoever won and lost. They stepped forward and swung. A slash, ripped flesh, and a dropped weapon. “I'm sorry.” the man said.