Welcome to our latest post. It’s time for an amazing Brawl Stars fanfic by Puzzles.
Barley was used to the fighting in his saloon. Almost every other hour someone left with a black eye or worse. Back when his saloon had first opened, Bull and Primo had gotten into a heated argument over who was the better brawler. Bull had tackled Primo, both crashing against a wall, then Primo launched himself towards Bull, destroying most of the saloon in the process. Barley had placed No Fighting signs all over the place, but everyone ignored them, including himself.
The saloon had faced plenty of mishaps and eventful afternoons in the five years it had been open. Five reopenings, one per year, two court cases – twice did Mortis claim he was poisoned by Barley, when he had really been bitten by some weird kind of black toad the first time and then by an infected bat the next, hosted parties, like when Primo had won his eighth consecutive heavyweight tournament or when Colt had been promoted to town sheriff, and would see that the craziest brawl was started by the quietest customer, Crow.
Crow was a rather enigmatic creature. He just appeared in town one day, and while everyone watched him with precaution, no one ever really asked him about his past. He almost never spoke, as a matter of fact, and he never stayed at the saloon for too long, usually leaving moments before the usual brawl. He always ordered the same drink, which was simply lemonade, and always paid Barley with some foreign currency that Barley could never figure out its origin. “It’s from beyond the Skull Creek,” Crow had told him once, and without further explanation, left the saloon.
Indeed, he was used to the crazy life his saloon led, to every fight that occurred within his business, but he had never once seen Crow attack anyone until that day.
Crow had walked into the saloon, as usual, a few quick glances welcoming him. Without asking Barley had filled out a glass with lemonade and Crow handed him another weird red ticket with a golden star in the middle.
Bull and Primo were having a rather calm and peaceful conversation regarding the recent discovery of remains of what the townsfolk believed where robots.
“I’m telling ya,” Bull said, “there ain’t no robots around these parts or anywhere for that matter! It’s all make-believe!”
“Alright, alright,” Primo replied, “but don’t come back begging for help when the robots take over!”
The crowd surrounding the two men erupted in laughter. At the stage, Poco began playing a new tune he had claimed had been in development since before had died a lifetime ago. While it sounded promising at first, it quickly turned into a wild mess which could be compared to what eating a plastic bag soaked with lime juice would feel like. Bull, Primo, and their crowd had all stopped chatting, irritated by the monstrous sounds Poco’s guitar was producing. Bull grabbed his beer and threw at Poco, and everyone soon followed. Poco stopped playing his guitar and stared at what was his angriest crowd yet. He had never been a good musician, neither in his lifetime nor in the afterlife, but he had been tolerable. This tune, however, was explicitly bad. His worse piece yet, and that was saying a lot. Barley usually muted him, but the rest weren’t as lucky.
Barley was watching carefully, suddenly intrigued. Crow had also turned around and was watching attentively. Bull had gone up to Poco’s left and Primo to his right. Primo held Poco while Primo grabbed his guitar and smashed it to pieces. Poco whimpered, the crowd laughed and cheered. Barley sighed but went back to serving drinks. Crow, however, stood up and walked up to the stage.
The saloon had gone completely silent, everyone was now watching him cautiously. Primo let out a small gasp but Bull only smiled.
“Playin’ hero, huh?”
“Pay for his guitar,” Crow said quietly; nobody but Bull had heard.
“Say what?” Bull grunted.
“Pay for his guitar,” Crow repeated louder but firmly. The saloon was filled with whispers. Nobody, except for Primo, talked back to Bull. He was the most feared among the town.
“Look, bird,” Bull said. “This ain’t none of your business. You heard how terrible he was, I was just doing everyone a favor.” The crowd grunted in approval.
“Pay for his guitar.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Bull laughed. “He’s not a crow, he’s a parrot!”
The crowd began to laugh but soon everyone let out a gasp. Crow had thrown three daggers at Bull, all of which hit his chest. The hulking man grew dizzy and fell down the stage. Primo had let go of Poco and let out a punch but Crow simply jumped over him and threw more daggers at him. Just like Bull, Primo was knocked down. The crowd was taken by surprise. Poco thought they were afraid and sighed, but Crow and Barley knew better. If you take down the big guy you don’t earn respect, not in this town. You earn a beating from everyone who respected the big guy.
Suddenly everyone went for Crow, some threw their drinks at him, others pulled out their shotguns or pistols and started shooting, and others simply went up to him and tried to punch him, but he didn’t seem startled. He leaped high, destroying the roof of the saloon, and landed on the stage, throwing several daggers, more than a dozen it seemed, hitting everyone close to him. Soon those hit were down like Bull and Primo.
There were still a plethora of brawlers, now more angry than before. Crow took down those close to him once more, but he couldn’t handle everyone. Poco sneaked to Barley, who was watching with a growing interest. This was perhaps the biggest brawl the saloon had ever held.
“Barley!” Poco screamed. “You must do something! There’s too many of them for Crow to handle!”
“He shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
“Well if you don’t care about Crow at least do something for your saloon! They’re destroying it!”
Barley sighed once more; Poco was right. They were destroying the place once again, and he didn’t have enough resources to reopen the saloon a sixth time.
Crow had underestimated their strength. He should have known better. He had been around for a good month or so in the town, and while he hadn’t stayed around for the fights, he had heard tales of them long after they were over. Why had he even gotten involved? He was drawing more attention than was necessary… but Poco didn’t deserve such cruelty. But then again, this world was a cruel one and not everyone had a happy ending. And now he too was paying for it…
He closed his eyes, attempting to block out the pain from all the hits he was taking. He had run out of daggers, and he wasn’t a great melee fighter. He was done for, he thought, until he heard everyone scream. He opened his eyes again and saw bottles of some red substance flying all over the saloon. One hit his back, and he understood at once. The substance was some sort of poison, one that irritated the skin. He let out a scream of pain and closed his eyes again… when he opened them again, he saw that it was dark outside and that nobody was at the saloon anymore, except for Barley and Poco who were sitting somewhere close to him.
He got up and made his way to the exit but Barley called him.
“You’re just going to leave?”
“I stayed here far too long,” Crow replied without turning back.
“That’s right,” Barley said. “You usually stay an hour a day. Today you were here almost six hours.”
“I didn’t mean the saloon,” Crow said. “I meant this town.”
“Ah, yes,” the robot replied. “Because you don’t stay in a town for more than a month or two, right? Because you’re always on the run, aren’t you? Because you’re a criminal, aren’t you, Crow, one of the most wanted of… what was it… beyond the Skull Creek?”
Crow stood still for a few seconds, then turned around and went back inside the saloon. As he closed the door behind him, he bitterly thought how he shouldn’t have stood up for that pile of bones.
I hope you all liked it. The second part of this series will be up next week. Stay tuned!
Written by Puzzles.