Dust kicked up behind Orion and Damien as they crested the ridge. Below them, the town of Altair sprawled like a weathered stone laid flat against the desert. Trade wagons trickled in and out under the shadow of tall sandstone spires. Thin pillars of smoke spiraled from chimneys, and at the main gate, a line of travelers waited, each one eyed down by tired, trigger-happy guards.
Orion's cloak fluttered behind him, worn and sun-faded. His boots were cracked, his canteen dry. The last few days had been hard—hot days, colder nights, and no sign of friendly faces.
Orion grumbles. "If we don't find food soon, I might start eating you."
"You'd be lucky to find any meat. I'm all bones and regret."
"Town looks alive," Damien muttered beside him, arms crossed, jaw tight. "Let's hope they don't shoot us on sight."
"If they do," Orion said, scanning the distant streets, "At least I won't die of thirst."
Damien glanced at him, brow raised. "You planning on dying today?"
Orion didn't answer. He started walking.
They made it through the gate without much hassle. The guards didn't ask questions—just stared too long and waved them in with suspicion. Inside, Altair felt different from Constellion. Rougher. Meaner. Street corners crowded with peddlers hawking junk. A boy snatched bread from a merchant and took off running. No one chased him. People were too busy watching their own backs.
They passed a saloon with cracked windows and a peeling sign. The barkeep inside looked like he kept a shotgun under the counter just for conversation.
"Friendly place," Damien muttered. "You sure you don't wanna turn around and try our luck with the vultures?"
Orion scanned the alleyways. "We need supplies. And coin. Can't take on 5 points on empty stomachs."
They found a half-collapsed inn run by a limping old man who barely looked up from his pipe. Gave them a room with a busted lock and told them not to bleed on the sheets.
In the room, Orion dropped his pack with a grunt. "We're running on fumes."
"No kidding," Damien said, slumping into a chair. "We're outlaws, Orion. Not saints. We gotta figure out how to survive out here."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Damien leaned forward, "How are we going to operate i don't see us as the steal from the rich to give to the poor or the mercenary type? But in this world, 'who we are' won't keep us fed."
Orion stared at the cracked wall in silence. For a moment, he thought of Cyrus—his voice, his convictions and the words of Jace. Then he looked at Damien.
"We don't steal from people who can't fight back," Orion said. "But if there are gangs out there hurting people—"
"—we put 'em down and take what they were hoarding," Damien finished, grinning. "Yeah. That I can live with."
A knock came at the door.
They exchanged a look. Orion stood, hand near his weapon. He opened it just a crack.
A man stood there. Thin, twitchy. One hand on a cane, the other clutching a leather satchel. His eyes darted between them.
"You looking for work?" he asked.
"Depends," Orion said. "who's asking?"
The man paled. "Name's Sirven. I run goods through town. Spices, medicine, junk folks will kill over in the right town."
Orion narrowed his eyes. "Get to the point."
"I've got a shipment going out tomorrow. Route's through the Black Fang gang's territory. They've been bleeding me dry, and I'm not paying them again. You protect the wagon—I pay you enough to rest, resupply and drink 'til your vision blurs."
Damien leaned against the wall, arms folded. "And if we say no?"
Sirven shrugged. "You stay broke and hungry. Your call."
Orion scratches his head. "How did you even know we were here?"
"Lets be honest kid no one stays at this inn because it was their first choice the people around here keep to themselves and are always looking for some extra scratch you aren't even the first person ive asked."
Damien laughs. "He's got a point."
"Okay we're in but we need more info- gang size,strength etc."
"There 20 total members but that's not what makes them a problem its their leader he's a ex member of five points combat core word is he was kicked out for being too violent"
"That explains a lot we succeed its business as usual, we die and there's nothing tying it back to you."
"You catch on quick, that's good you just might make it out of this alive."
Damien sighs.
"Not like we have anyone else literally knocking on our door."
"The delivery will be heading out before sunrise tomorrow."
The next day, the job began.
Setting:A narrow canyon trail. Rocky terrain. Scattered shrubs. Just past dusk. Thunder rolls in the distance as heavy clouds darken the sky. Rain begins to fall in light sheets.
The caravan climbs a slow incline. Damien rides near the back, soaked, hood up. Orion rides alongside the wagons, his coat already flecked with rain.
Suddenly—Gunfire. Sharp and controlled.
A few guards drop before they even realize. Horses rear. Screams erupt. One of the wagons topples sideways into a ditch.
On the ridge above the trail, a silhouette steps into view.Long black duster. Wide-brimmed hat pulled low. A half-metal mask hides the lower half of his face. Across his chest gleams a tarnished Five Point lieutenant badge. His right hand rests on a weathered revolver. Across his back—a brutal curved saber.
A caravan driver stammers, eyes wide.
"It's... it's the Reaper!"
The figure chuckles darkly.
"I swear, you lot make it too easy."
The caravan freezes. No one breathes.
"Tell you what. I'm feelin' generous today. If one of you has the balls to face me, I might just spare the rest."
Crouched behind an overturned crate, Damien mutters,
"When we took this job, I was really hoping for an easy payday..."
Orion steps forward, rain trailing off his coat. One hand rests on his revolver, the other on his blade.
"Yeah... I figured this was gonna happen."
He walks forward slowly.
"Guess I'm your man."
The Reaper drops from the ridge in a single, controlled leap—landing hard in front of the caravan. His blade is already in his hand.
"Let's dance."
Combat erupts.
Close quarters. Brutal and fast. Blades clash. Sparks fly. Orion ducks low, fires a shot. The Reaper moves like a predator—calm, relentless.
Inside Orion's mind, the Phoenix stirs. Whispers grow louder. "burn them..."
Orion grits his teeth, trying to drown it out, but the voice builds into a roar. He falters—just for a second.
The Reaper slashes. Blood hits the dirt. Orion crashes back, clutching his side.
The wound burns—then seals shut, cauterized by an internal fire. His eyes glow faintly red. His breath comes in short bursts. The Phoenix is no longer whispering.
Orion rises.And the ground beneath him scorches.
Now it's his turn.
He explodes forward, flames trailing every strike. The Reaper laughs—manic and alive.
"YES! This! This is what I live for!"
His own power flares, wind erupting like blades, clashing with Orion's. The rain hisses as it hits them, steam rising in clouds.
"It's been ages since I've felt a presence like this!"
"...I get it now. Cyrus must've kicked the bucket."
Orion's jaw clenches.
"You knew Cyrus?"
The Reaper peels away his mask slowly. Half his face is melted, twisted. His right eye milky and dead. A jagged grin spreads across burnt flesh.
"Knew him? The bastard burned off my face as if I'd ever forget those flames.""I was planning on returning the favor... but this? This is even better.""Way more fun than killin' an old man."
His aura darkens. The ground shakes beneath him as he sends wind blades towards orion.
"Come at me!"
The battle escalates.
Flames. Gunfire. Steel on steel. Orion hurls fire blasts, but the Reaper only grows more savage blowing them away with gust of strong wind.
"Ten years boy!" he roars."They've sent dozens and do you know why I've kept this power Not one could take me down!"
Orion breathes hard, bleeding from a numerous cuts that were healing slower the more flames he used.
They clash again—gale winds vs. precision fire.
Orion side steps and slams his dagger into the Reaper's side. The wound ignites. causing the Reaper to stumble back.
"Give up," Orion warns."If you don't want to die."
The Reaper coughs blood and grins.
"Death can have me when I say so!"
The Reaper charges as Orion holsters his weapons.
Damien shouts from cover.
"Orion?! What are you doing!?"
Orion raises a hand. Time slows.The reaper fading in and out of consciousness sees visions of fallen friends, broken oaths, why he became so strong and ruthless.
Then Orion speaks, a voice—deeper, not entirely his own."Cremation."
The Reaper blinks—He sees himself, walking into the arms of his long-dead comrades. Peace. Release.
In reality, he's on his knees—burning alive. A column of fire consumes him. His melted face the last thing to turn to ash.
Silence.
The rest of the Black Fang flee, leaderless and terrified.
Orion stands in the rain looking to the sky, The Reaper's saber stabbed into the ground beside his fallen badge and revolver.
Orion turns, staggering his flames growing weak and finally being put out all together by the rain. Damien rushes to catch him as he nearly collapses. Together, they climb into a carriage. The caravan slowly continues forward.
Later on the return trip
Damien notices the Reaper's items are gone.
As they arrive in town, Damien, ever the opportunist, checks for a bounty on the infamous outlaw. He collects the bounty, despite his distaste for bounty hunting. Money is money, especially with Orion recovering.
Meanwhile, Orion deals with Sirven, who attempts to shortchange them. Orion fixes Sirven with a single, cold glare. Sirvan then pays the full amount without hesitation not wanting to anger the man who killed The Reaper.
later at the inn
As the rain continues to fall, Orion sits alone. He stares into the flame of a lantern, silent.
He doesn't feel triumphant.
He feels... possessed.
It wasn't me who killed him, he thinks. It was the thing inside me.
He makes a quiet vow:"Next time... if I take a life, it'll be my choice."
Word has spread through the town via members of the caravan.
"He burned the Reaper."
A new town legend is born.
With new supplies and coin in their pockets, Orion and Damien decide to stay in town a while longer. Planning to use Sirven's merchant connections to gather information. Rather than wandering aimlessly to the next town.
finally, Damien and Orion take a well-deserved rest and the fire inside Orion cools... just for a moment.