05/23/2368

Romhainn Citadel

Former state of Langhoidh

In the heart of the Citadel of Romhainn, several imposing structures rose defiantly against the icy prevailing climate. What had initially been a jumble of debris and scrap from the old world had now become a border wall protecting the citadel from the outside world. Within it lay a tavern, a refuge for travelers and locals alike seeking warmth and companionship. From the outside, the tavern resembled a shapeless mound, covered by thick blocks of ice that melted and renewed constantly. Beneath this protective layer lay layers of insulating fabric, thermal foam, and other recycled materials, forming an effective barrier against the relentless cold.

Upon crossing the entrance door, one stepped into a completely different world. The interior was illuminated by the warm glow of improvised lamps, creating a welcoming atmosphere amidst the inhospitable exterior environment. The walls were lined with rusted metal plates, intertwined with cables and pipes snaking everywhere. Tables and benches made of weathered wood and twisted metal were scattered around, silent witnesses to countless encounters and conversations.

However, the bar's ambiance was distorted by the presence of an imposing and mysterious figure known as Mr. Unknownman. He sat there, his figure completely covered in bandages and rags of gray tones, obscuring his body entirely except for his piercing blue eyes, cold as ice. He wore a worn bulletproof vest, white tactical gloves, and black cargo pants filled with pockets and useful tools for surviving in the extreme cold. A belt encircled his waist, carrying a holster with a pistol, bullets, and a sharp knife. Over his torso, a coat made from what appeared to be tanned hides partially covered him, shielding him from the icy environment.

At that precise moment, Mr. Unknownman was brutally smashing a man's head against one of the tavern's tables. Each impact resonated with a horrifying crunch, while blood splattered everywhere. The man took the blows without resistance, his face disfiguring with each strike, splashing blood onto the table and floor. The sound of his own drowning in his life fluid was interrupted when Mr. Unknownman released him, and with a fluid motion, he drew his Barraca M10 pistol.

Without hesitation, he aimed at two men who had just entered the tavern through the main door. Both carried weapons and machetes, entering in search of the masked man. They wore thick coats made from old thermal fabrics, animal skulls adorning their shoulders. Their faces were covered by goggles to shield themselves from the cold, and they wore reinforced gloves and traction boots.

Before they could react, Mr. Unknownman squeezed the trigger, and the bullets shot out with a deafening roar. One of the men fell to the ground, clutching his neck as blood gushed from the wound. The other managed to dive aside, narrowly dodging the deadly barrage.

The people in the tavern were in panic, screaming and seeking refuge under tables or behind improvised bars. Chaos reigned in the tavern as glass shattered and bullets whizzed everywhere. Suddenly, a third man burst through a back door, wielding an imposing assault rifle. Without wasting time, he opened fire on Mr. Unknownman, who managed to throw himself behind the bartender's counter just in time.

Bullets impacted against wood and metal, splintering and sparking as they left a mortal wound on the bartender, who lost one arm due to the bullet impact. Mr. Unknownman remained crouched, waiting for the opportune moment to counterattack. When the incessant roar of bullets ceased, indicating that the assailant had run out of ammunition, he peeked his head above the counter.

With lethal aim, he pointed directly at the man's head and pulled the trigger. A precise shot pierced the gas mask visor, and the assailant's body collapsed lifeless to the ground, leaving a pool of blood around him.

Silence once again reigned in the tavern, broken only by the moans of the wounded and the crunch of broken glass under Mr. Unknownman's feet as he slowly stood up, surveying his surroundings. He reloaded his smoking weapon and leaped over the counter. Quickly, he focused his gaze on the man who had managed to dodge his first barrage of bullets. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger, and a precise bullet pierced the man's skull, leaving him lifeless by the door, staining it red.

Just then, a new assailant burst onto the scene through the same back door. He was a burly man, whose bulging muscles could be glimpsed through the hides and fabrics covering his body. He wore reinforced gloves with hardened feathers, and his face remained hidden beneath an improvised mask of tanned leather.

Before Mr. Unknownman could react, the man wielded a thick, rusted pipe and brutally slammed it against his head. The impact was devastating, causing Mr. Unknownman to stagger and fall to the ground, dazed. The assailant didn't miss the chance and pounced on him, ready to finish him off. However, Mr. Unknownman managed to react in time and, with an agile movement, entwined his legs around the man's, causing him to lose balance and fall heavily to the ground.

Both wrestled in a whirlwind of punches and kicks, rolling on the floor covered in broken glass and blood puddles. Mr. Unknownman managed to momentarily break free and deliver a devastating punch to his opponent's face, cracking the leather mask. The burly man responded with a guttural roar and smashed his head against Mr. Unknownman's, momentarily blinding him. Taking advantage of his daze, he pinned him to the ground, pressing his muscular forearm against his adversary's throat.

Mr. Unknownman struggled to breathe but refused to give up. With superhuman effort, he managed to reach the knife on his belt and, without hesitation, plunged it deeply into his opponent's side. The burly man howled in pain and loosened his grip, giving Mr. Unknownman the opportunity he needed. He pulled out the knife and, in a swift motion, drove it into his opponent's neck, slashing his jugular. A gush of hot blood splattered Mr. Unknownman's face as he rolled aside, while the lifeless body of the burly man bled out on the floor.

Gasping for breath, Mr. Unknownman slowly rose to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand. His cold gaze swept over the scene of destruction and death surrounding him, showing no emotion. He picked up his pistol from the ground.

—Damn bastard,— he muttered, in pain, without looking back, he made his way to the tavern's exit, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind as people tried to escape through the back door. He stopped abruptly and thought of one thing. He turned around and limped towards the bar, reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out some small metal cubes sealed by the Republic of Hommss. It was the currency in that area; each cube was worth one Recas unit. He took six of them and tossed them onto the bartender's corpse. —For the trouble, my friend…— he said, and proceeded to leave the place with some discomfort.

Mr. Unknownman limped out of the tavern. Snow fell gently over the Citadel, covering the scrap structures and debris with a pristine white blanket, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. The glacial cold pierced him to the bone, but he seemed unfazed. He struggled forward towards the center of the Citadel, surrounded by a ring of makeshift walls made of rusted remnants and twisted metal plates. Around this core sprawled a chaotic maze of makeshift stalls, mechanic workshops, and small businesses, all built from the remnants of the previous world.

Mr. Unknownman stopped, one hand pressing his stomach from the blows he received, while the other firmly gripped his smoking Barraca M10. Snowflakes clung to his gray bandages, gradually dyeing them white. His cold and relentless gaze swept the area, observing the locals cautiously peeking from the shadows.

—Listen up, you scum bunch! — he roared with a deep, raspy voice. —I'm looking for Erik Haldhrik! That miserable, disgusting man. If he doesn't show up in the next five minutes, I'll start blowing heads one by one until someone tells me where that rat is hiding!—

He paused, letting his menacing words sink in for those present. No one dared to move or make a sound.

—I'm a bounty hunter, and a damn good one... I won't leave this citadel until I collect the reward for that flea-ridden head,— he continued, spitting the words with contempt. —Haldhrik betrayed his own people and fled like a despicable cowardly son of a bitch after stealing a shipment from the Republic. Now, he must pay with his death.—

His icy gaze swept over the terrified faces watching him, challenging them to contradict him. No one dared to cross his path.

—Five minutes! — he shouted, raising his weapon in the air. "And I'll start shooting anyone who moves. Bring Haldhrik or face the consequences!"

Silence reigned in the citadel, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the snow crunching under Mr. Unknownman's feet. He looked around with his eyes, adjusted his face bandages, and murmured, —Fine.— A quick shot rang out from the chamber of his pistol, hitting an innocent woman hiding behind an electronic repair shop, shattering her head instantly. Panic spread throughout the place.

—I warned you rats! Where is he!... Erik! Hald...— Unknownman was interrupted by a child who approached slowly, trembling and fearful towards the bounty hunter.

He looked at the child, tilting his head, waiting for an answer. His blue eyes pierced into the child's as he raised his arm, pointing towards a hut on the other side of the citadel center. Mr. Unknownman seemed to smile beneath the rags. He ruffled the child's hair. —Well done, kid— he gave him some Recas he had in his pocket. He stood up, readjusted his improvised mask, and commented with some sarcasm, —You could learn more from the kid... scums — He headed towards the hut without checking the chamber of his Barraca M10. He took aim, gripping the weapon with both hands at head level, ready to open fire at any moment.

He stood in front of the deteriorated makeshift wooden door and, without hesitation, kicked it down. The noise echoed inside the hut, startling the family inside. Their faces filled with panic at the sight of the imposing figure of that bloodthirsty bounty hunter bursting into their home.

—Where is he!? — he roared.

The terrified people couldn't bring themselves to respond, paralyzed by fear. Unknownman, enraged, began to throw everything he found to the ground, knocking over furniture and objects without hesitation.

He burst into the kitchen, where his eyes caught movement. There was his target, a burly, muscular man, similar to the individuals who had attacked him in the tavern. He wore thick furs and thermal fabrics, his face hidden beneath an improvised mask. Erik desperately pushed a heavy piece of furniture, revealing a false wall hiding a hole with a tube to slide into.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was warm, built with weathered wood and dimly lit by yellowish lamps. Without wasting time, Mr. Unknownman aimed his weapon at Erik and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in the confined space, but Erik managed to slide into the tube just in time, avoiding the precise bullet.

—Fuck!, damn it! — he yelled, approaching the hole in the wall.

He fired several times into the darkness of the shaft, but received no response. Frustrated, he spun on his heels and faced the terrified family who had huddled in a corner.

—Oh. You bastards!— he insulted them with disdain, trying to spit out the words distorted by his bandage mask.

He reloaded his smoking pistol and, without a second thought, plunged into the dark shaft, sliding down the pipe.