GunZ- Photographic memory

[Wixern]

GunZ: Photographic memory


This story is based off a simple flash of inspiration. During my holidays, I was thinking to myself what use photographs could have. Then I combined this with the wonder of anti-age in GunZ (no matter how long you play, your character remains young.) The result is a story of an old warrior, looking back at his past. With this short intro, I hope I got your attention.

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An old mansion, set in the green hills, looking slightly out of place among all the trees that surrounded it. The wind made the trees whisper, their leaves rustling and falling off. Inside the mansion, a single room was lit. The light came from an old fireplace, cracking with the sound of burning wood. Only a few steps further stood a table, its contents spread all over it. They were all pictures; each contained a face, mostly that of a young man.


A man entered the room, moving slowly as he shuffled through the doorway and into the room. His face was wrinkled with age, but scars still showed on them. He was a large man, looking as though he could once have wrestled with bears. His hair must once have been a grey bush, but now there were a mere two tufts of them left. He made his way into a large and comfortable armchair, setting himself down gently. He looked down at the photographs on the table before him, and sighed. He had busied himself with this for some time now, and was about to go over it one last time.


He picked up the first photograph. It showed a young man dressed in a white shirt and red trousers. He barely remembered that he had once looked like that, a long time ago. He though back of the days when he first battled. He had acquired two Sub-machineguns, of the oldest model available. He was care-free back then, oblivious of the perils that would strike him later in his life. He sighed and placed the picture back on the table. His eye was drawn immediately to another picture.


He saw himself, once again. Though dressed slightly better, he was still holding the machineguns he had once bought. He stood in a hallway of an old mansion, bodies scattered behind him. It had been his first grand victory, and a step forwards for him. He tried to remember more, but his memory was not what it once had been. That was the reason why he had taken the trouble of going through all the photographs. He had hoped that they would help him jog his memory.


He threw the picture back onto the table, thereby shoving off another pile of photographs. As he picked them up from the carpet, he recognized they all showed the same faces. His face contorted, as though he had just seen a ghost. On the photograph stood another man, grinning next to himself. He recognized the face immediately. It was that of his old friend Jordan, the man who had helped him see the fun of battle. Most of the pictures showed him and Jordan, posing in different locations. One, however, showed them in a different position.


He examined the photograph. There was no mistaking the two of them. Jordan had his shotgun and was in the middle of a dash, aiming for his friend. The man sighed and smiled. The practice matches between him and Jordan had always been a thing of magic. Never had he enjoyed himself more than during those friendly matches. He even changed his weaponry to Jordan’s: two shotguns, crossed on his back. He had improved himself, and thought that no one could surpass him After all, even Jordan couldn’t beat him back then, no matter how hard he tried. He placed the picture on a clean spot on the table, making a mental note to buy a frame for it someday.


He sought through the photographs again, noticing one in particular. This one had a woman on it, smiling. She held a shining shotgun in one hand and a trophy in the other. The man remembered this moment all too well. It was when his entire attitude changed. Up until then, he had thought himself unbeatable. She had proven him wrong. Her movements were faster, her aim was better, her defense was perfect and she knew the area perfectly. The man had suffered defeat unlike any other. He felt no hatred for her know, though. After all, it was his choice which ultimately changed everything.


He placed the woman’s picture somewhere else, and picked up a stack of pictured. They all contained the same man: himself. All of them were victory shots of battles he had fought. The one thing he noticed the most was his expression. On the first photograph, he was smiling, enjoying the victory over his opponent. As he looked at all the other photographs, the smile faded, until eventually he simply stood over his opponent, looking angry with something. He recognized the face. Back then, he was angry at every little mistake he made, whether he won or not. He was aiming for perfection, and nothing would stop him.


He placed the stack of photo’s back on the table, making sure none of them fell. He shoved aside a photograph of him and Jordan in town, and found the picture he dreaded the most. It was him, carrying his shotguns as he always had done. Next to him stood the man he would duel that day. He was holding two revolvers, with a katana strapped on his back. The old man heaved a sigh and quickly threw the picture away. He sat back into his chair and started thinking.


That man had been the most powerful warrior back then. He was said to be so accurate that he could hit a fly’s wing, disabling it in mid-flight. The man had lost that battle. He was devastated afterwards. After all, was he not the unbeatable master? How could someone using such weapons as unreliable as revolvers win from him? He had suffered from a depression, and lost more and more battles. Rumors quickly spread and it was predicted that he would retire early. The man had almost done so, too. But then, a miracle happened.


Jordan had approached him on the very day the man was going to announce his retirement. He had taken someone with him, as well. It was the woman to whom he first lost a battle. After some convincing, the man had battled her again, and won this time. The woman’s aim came nowhere near his. Her speed seemed half of his, and her movements were unsteady and haphazard. It was then that he revived his will to fight, and even fight at a more extreme level.


The next picture was one for which he had always felt somewhat ashamed. He had challenged the revolver master for a duel. A duel to the death. He had won, though barely. The picture showed him, standing over the revolver master’s body, the revolvers lying a few feet away. His face showed triumph, and he seemed to glow slightly in the picture, as though something had awoken within him.

[Wixern]

He remembered that, after that, everything went perfect. He won every battle and remained the undefeated champion of warriors. None came close to challenging him, he trained 5 to 6 hours, taking breaks only to revise his tactics and movement. He was at the top of the top, and no one was able to get him down from there. The man smiled to himself. He remembered that time as a peaceful one, where everyone knew his name, and reminded him of his achievements. His rise.. his fall.. and his rise once again.


He placed the picture next to the one of Jordan and him. Then, his eye fell on the only thing that wasn’t a real photograph. It was an article written about him during his time as ultimate warrior. He read the title out loud to himself.
“The greatest warrior- a cheap fighter?”
the headline burned itself into his eyes, reaching into his brain and reaching the trigger of memory.
He remembered the rumors, of course. He was said to have used cheap techniques in former battles, utilizing such things as unfair terrain advantage, weapon advantages and even relying on pure luck for victory. Back then, he had shrugged them off, seeing them as outburst of jealousy of those lesser than him.


But now, it seemed a lot more real. He tried to remember a battle in which he hadn’t relied on his advantage at some point. He used techniques deemed cheap by many, such as instafalls and instakills. He had taken advantage of dagger users by blocking their attacks more than necessary. He had fought from places he knew his opponent to be weaker on and used their weaknesses against them. It seemed like smart techniques, but his reputation was tarnished back then. People were ready to believe anything to bring him down. He had, after all, won under suspicious circumstances of the revolver master. Many said that he wouldn’t survive another meeting with a revolver master, but none ever showed up (though many tried nonetheless, only to be discarded like rubbish.)


A flash of memory entered the man’s mind, and he started searching frantically for the photograph he had suddenly remembered. He found it, at last, shoved between a lot of pictures of him and Jordan. The man had remembered it all too well. He was at the top and became arrogant, claiming that none came close to matching him. He even declined the fact that he had once lost to anyone at all, and challenged anyone to prove him differently. He was at the peak of his power, and only one man had the actual nerve to challenge him.


Jordan had spoken to him early that day. He was trying to convince the man to stop being so arrogant and to stop searching for people to humiliate. The man had scolded Jordan for his rudeness, claiming that “You became weak-willed during our time apart, Jordan!”.
At last, Jordan saw no other options. He challenged the man in the most peculiar matter. He issued his challenge as followed:
“I wish to fight you. I may be an unknown warrior, but I think I got the advantage. Therefore, I challenge you on YOUR terms. You choose where, when and even what. That’s right. You may choose what weaponry I should use. I search not to humiliate you. I wish only to prove you that you’re not invincible.”


The man had, of course, accepted the challenge. It was to be a town match, where Jordan would use a katana, two pairs of revolvers and wear the most basic of protection. The crowds had gathered that day, waiting for a battle of epic proportions to take place. Jordan had shown up, as promised, with revolvers and katana at his side. The man had showed up with his shotguns and katana at the ready, grinning at what he thought to be a certain victory. They exchanged friendly gestures, nodded and walked off to their respective starting points.


The man scanned the table and found the photograph he’d been looking for. Sparks covered the picture where two swords collided, crashing into each other like two rocks in an earthquake. Behind the defendant’s sword was Jordan’s face, calm and collected as he received the blows. Behind the attacker’s sword was his face, though the sparks made him hard to recognize. The battle had been like that for a long time. Exchanging blows, shooting through the air and firing weapons. The most heaviest of techniques were used at amazing speeds, making the battle hard to follow. Then came the most dramatic moment. The man took the photograph of the crucial moment. One of the reporters had made quite a precise picture of it.


The picture showed Jordan, dropping his sword, his only weapon left. He stood with his arms and legs spread, as though preparing to hug someone. His face was set grimly, as he awaited the final blow. Back then, the battle had went as followed:
Jordan and the man had exchanged blows with their swords and guns, leaving them with little ammunition. They had resorted to swordfighting, and the final moment had just come. The man had drawn his shotgun and dashed backwards for a good shot. Jordan had dropped his sword in the midst of the shot, and received the spray of bullets on his chest. He had toppled backwards, dying with a smile on his face.

The old man’s eyes glazed over. He had never even realized what Jordan’s words had meant.
“I just wish to show you that you’re not invincible.”
Never had he realized this didn’t mean that Jordan would defeat him. It meant that, despite his attitude, he was still as vulnerable as ever. Jordan was prepared to lose to prove his point. The man had never wished to lose at all, no matter what it was. He stared blankly into the fireplace as he remembered what had happened after the battle. Everyone was cheering for him, of course. He had walked silently through crowds of admirers, ignoring them as he walked through his own world.


He had killed his only friend. The only warrior who dared stand up to him. The only one who sought not to win, but to prove a simple point. He had withdrawn into his room and banged his head against the wall. He had been angry with himself, angry with being unable to stop his shot when Jordan dropped his weapon. He had never been angry at his victory before, and this made him even angrier. He had crushed everything in the room at that moment, and even broke his shotguns in pure fury. Finally, he sat down and cried himself to sleep. The next morning, he announced his retirement.


He found another newspaper article. This one had a very different headline.
“Top warrior quits- Battles are over”
Below that were quoted some of the things he had said.
“I realize now that there are more important things than winning.”
“I will no longer fight for personal gain.”
“I am sorry for the pain I have inflicted on others. I beg for forgiveness, but won’t be sad when none will forgive who I had become.”


After that, he had moved into the mansion he sat in today. He still had some valued possessions hanging on his walls. He slowly rose from the chair to look at them.
There were the revolvers of the revolver master. They were as shiny as they were when he had defeated him. Next to it was Jordan’s katana, along with a picture of him. Several trophies were stacked in a dark corner. He had hoped to forget that time, but he had to face it. He may once have been the most powerful warrior, but he would never truly be the best.

Because after all he had been through, he was, when it came down to it, all alone. He always had been.

[controls]

Pretty good read, I think I liked the ending the best. There were some errors though:

He placed the woman’s picture somewhere else, and picked up a stack of pictured. They all contained the same man: himself. All of them were victory shots of battles he had fought. The one thing he noticed the most was his expression. On the first photograph, he was smiling, enjoying the victory over his opponent. As he looked at all the other photographs, the smile faded, until eventually he simply stood over his opponent, looking angry with something.

He placed the stack of photo’s back on the table, making sure none of them fell. He shoved aside a photograph of him and Jordan in town, and found the picture he dreaded the most. It was him, carrying his shotguns as he always had done. Next to him stood the man he would duel that day.

That man had been the most powerful warrior back then. He was said to be so accurate that he could hit a fly’s wing, disabling it in mid-flight. The man had lost that battle. He was devastated afterwards. After all, was he not the unbeatable master? How could someone using such weapons as unreliable as revolvers win from him?

He placed the picture next to the one of Jordan and him. Then, his eye fell on the only thing that wasn’t a real photograph. It was an article written about him during his time as ultimate warrior. He read the title out loud to himself.

So yeah, just some errors. Nothing major but it's still kinda noticable.

[Glenn]

That's weird, I didn't notice those errors. Must have read too fast. >_<
Really nice story, kinda describes the people with big egos nowadays. ;D

[Wixern]

Well, I took the egotrippers I meet as example. I simply hope they wisen up as well, should they ever grow up.

As for the errors, thanks for pointing them out. I typed in a hurry (near dinner time), so such errors as "Pictured" when it should be "Pictures" were to be expected. Too lazy to edit as well, so I'm leaving them there.

Thanks for reading, anyway. Walls of text can be quite depressing sometimes, so I applaud you for your attention span.

[Glenn]

Originally Posted by Wixern

Well, I took the egotrippers I meet as example. I simply hope they wisen up as well, should they ever grow up.

As for the errors, thanks for pointing them out. I typed in a hurry (near dinner time), so such errors as "Pictured" when it should be "Pictures" were to be expected. Too lazy to edit as well, so I'm leaving them there.

Thanks for reading, anyway. Walls of text can be quite depressing sometimes, so I applaud you for your attention span.

Well, this was the only thread which was filled with the purpose of gzf. Others are spamz.

[controls]

Originally Posted by GlennLee

Well, this was the only thread which was filled with the purpose of gzf. Others are spamz.

Quoted for truth.

[Ailysa]

I LOVED it. Like all your other works, this is fun and exciting to read.

We're all wondering what will happen next, and that was a great twist.

This seems to be simular to your other story: "Noobs and Newbies" (Something like that) or perhaps like "8 angry men." But this one kept me entertained for much longer. And like its been said: Quality beats Quantity.

The only paragraph which didn't agree with me was this:

Jordan had spoken to him early that day. He was trying to convince the man to stop being so arrogant and to stop searching for people to humiliate. The man had scolded Jordan for his rudeness, claiming that “You became weak-willed during our time apart, Jordan!”.
At last, Jordan saw no other options. He challenged the man in the most peculiar matter. He issued his challenge as followed:
“I wish to fight you. I may be an unknown warrior, but I think I got the advantage. Therefore, I challenge you on YOUR terms. You choose where, when and even what. That’s right. You may choose what weaponry I should use. I search not to humiliate you. I wish only to prove you that you’re not invincible.”

Jordan has spoke to him, then it goes he tried to convince the man. It feels wierd, for it changing from him, to the man. Also, I felt you could have continued refering to the man as 'him,' as he IS Jordan's friend.

But that's the only thing that disturbed me.

Like I said - I loved it. ^^

<3

P.S. Oh shi*. Forgot to repz!!

[Admiral]

The way that Wixern wrote it is proper. If he used "him" again in the second sentence, he'd have two pronouns that refer to two different people, but no indication as to which referred to whom. He certainly couldn't say "Jordan had... Jordan was..." as that would be incorrect and look rather silly.

[guobin2]

Fascinating read. I really liked the story! (:

[Wixern]

I admit that I, too, was worried about the whole "man-he" principle. It's hard to write about someone without a name, but I did it so it would fit better within the storyline.

Thanks for all the positive replies. This story was made up during a mountain hike, and typed in a quick 3 hours or so. Still, I like the way it worked out. I'm always best after a holiday, it gives me so much free time to think about stories to write.

[Admiral]

Something for the future, Wixern, that maybe you could use. Give your unnamed character a nickname based on appearance, social standing, etc. and then refer to him by that name. Names like One-eye or Lefty are what I'm talking about.

And I seem to only be able to think of ideas when doing things that require physical attentiveness but no thought, such as showering, trying to sleep, etc.

EDIT: And after a reading of it... superb! I actually felt drawn in a bit, and that's rare for me when reading fanfiction.

[Nosedagger]

Adding to Fiction listings. Will read when I have time.

[Ailysa]

Originally Posted by Admiral

Something for the future, Wixern, that maybe you could use. Give your unnamed character a nickname based on appearance, social standing, etc. and then refer to him by that name. Names like One-eye or Lefty are what I'm talking about.

I've seen that done in a few books. Quite smart, actually. I should use that some time. ^^

[Nosedagger]

It definitely wasn't bad, but I saw nothing special.