Chapter 24: Bismarck

The sun was being swallowed by a blanket of heavy gray clouds that cast a somber hue over the streets of Dubrovnik. A light rain was falling down, making the cobblestone roads have puddles of water, drenching anyone's feet unfortunate enough to be caught in that pit. 

I was tapping my foot impatiently. The materials I had obtained lay beside me underneath the small outside roof of the building I was near. I was looking towards the sea for the rented boat that I had paid for with some of the leftover money Sol had given me. The ship seemed to be teasingly slow in its approach from the distance due to all the other ships being rented, heightening my anticipation. 

After saying farewell to Slayer and Sharon, I decided to return to Sol to complete the OutRage. Slayer offered to teleport me and my materials back, but I refused since I wanted to take in some sights along the way back home.

So, the quickest way back to Ganymede without being noticed in the sky and keeping the stuff I got from this little adventure of mine safe was by sea.

"Will the wait ever end?" 

Just as I was about to give up hope for something to sate my boredom, a figure emerged from the rain, walking with a slight stoop, leaning heavily on a cane, and holding a blue umbrella. Who was hobbling towards the cover I was in. 

I couldn't help but feel this person was familiar to me as they drew closer, a familiar face despite the years that had passed and the changes that time had wrought.

"Maria?" I exclaimed, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

The woman halted in her tracks before shaking her head and squinting through the downpour. She sat on the only open chair, setting her cane across her lap. 

A smile spread across her weathered face, lines etched deep around her eyes and mouth.

"Excuse me, have you seen my granddaughter around, with short hair and a green bag?"

"Sorry, I haven't."

"Oh... I was running a tad bit late, but she said she'd take me on a boat with her for the evening." 

"She's probably just running late."

"I guess," the grandmother said, slouching on the chair before speaking again. I used to be really reliable when she was still a child. She told me I mattered the most to her, and she would never have kept me waiting like this..." 

Maria sighed while rubbing her wrinkly temples. "Sometimes, it feels like she's changed."

'I feel a little regretful with how much time has slipped through my fingers since I last saw my old friend. Not even telling her I was alive after escaping.'

"People change."

"It's stupid, but... I'm scared she's outgrowing me. That she's changing but I'm just staying the same, and I feel... I don't know... Dead weight."

"She agreed to meet you in the middle of this storm, taking time to spend with you. No one does that if they don't care."

"True." Maria's eyes looked conflicted and ashamed. "I feel that I am a parasite for asking her out now. With her ruining new shoes in this weather, just for a boat ride that can't happen today."

Shifting my gaze away to see my boat docked, I walked a little out of the shelter, taking my materials with me. Hearing the rain hit my helmet, I turned around and extended my hand to offer the remaining money I had left. 

"If you can't take a boat ride today, get some drinks together; maybe you can pick up the tab."

Maria heartedly laughed, taking the money and storing it in her pocket. "That's a good idea, young man. Thank you."

Shaking my head, I walked to leave but stopped to swallow. "I hardly recognized you, Maria; sorry I never told you what happened to me."

Maria nodded, confused but somewhat understanding. "Take care of yourself," she said, her voice barely audible over the rain to any regular human listening. 

However, I stopped myself when I felt a cooling sensation in the back of my mind, sort of like taking a cold shower after a workout, coming from the wooden box I held underneath my armpit.

I saw a woman in her late twenties passing me by with a green bag, and as I walked away, I heard another elderly voice that caused my breath to halt from where Maria was.

"Oh, I'm fine, dear, I had a lovely talk with that young man you passed. But, he called me the name of someone of Maria." 

Snapping my head around, I saw someone else in Maria's place for a split second, bearing no resemblance to what I thought Maria would look like earlier. I took out the box I was holding and set it down, and Maria's appearance returned to normal. 

"I haven't stopped running and flying these past two weeks, just overworking myself."

Picking up the box again, I made my way to the boat, "Maria's" words echoing in the back of my mind. As I set sail from the stormy harbor, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong...

-

A few hours pass by while I permanently rent the boat, and in no time, I arrive back on the shores of Ganymede. However, I came to the realization that we didn't have a dock for the boat, and I really needed some rest. 

So I ran the boat straight into the shore, and once I did, I dragged the bag of Zeal, the wooden box, and the gun I found on the boat back into the labs. Once I got back and descended more into the lab, I saw that Sol was operating a magic circle and using it to connect pieces to the completed version of the OutRage.

"Hey, I'm back!" I greeted as I laid the stuff on the nearby table while taking off my leather armor to stretch out my wings. Then, I sat comfortably on the ground with a short table before me, holding the cool trinket I found on the boat on my side. "I thought you would be done by now?"

Sol stopped using the magic circle to produce fire and turned around. He looked exhausted but determined as he almost put all the finishing touches on the weapon.

"I would have been done with had you not wanted to add on a third magic amplifying device to the OutRage. That threw every part out of sync."

"Well, you can't blame me. Besides, you never had to do any of this."

Sol looked down at me with a faint smile crossing his face. "Yeah, I didn't have to, and it is a pain in the ass. But you insisted." He then approached the low table and sat across from me.

"I have so much to tell you, but you have something you want to tell me?" I asked, noticing a glint in his eyes.

Sol proceeded to crack his neck with the sound of bones breaking and repairing. "Sure, while you were away, I found out that most European countries decided to give you a name."

I took in a deep breath, barely able to contain my excitement. I felt like a child not being able to stop themselves from opening a present. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh! What is it?"

Much to my annoyance, Sol held back from telling me, becoming the cruelest person I've ever met for a few seconds. Before he relented, he took the wooden container that Slayer and Sharon had given to me and opened it up. 

"They decided to give you the name Bismarck."

"Oh hell yeah, giving me a nickname from one of the songs of Sabaton."

Sol looked stoic again, but I could tell this was his way of saying, "I know what it really means, but I don't want to ruin your moment." And I didn't really want to, so I'll just think some governments are huge fans of Sabaton.

Taking out the shining metal ore from the box, Sol looked confused as to what it was for a moment before shaking his head. "I'll find a way to make this work tomorrow, so what were you going to rant about?"

Still in a state of pure happiness, I nodded quickly while my wings flinched a couple of times. "So, during my travels, I met a wolfman, a cat girl, a yokai, and so many other strange creatures, and I found this gun while making my way back."

I took the pump-action shotgun I found inside the boat in one hand. It was thirty-two inches long, black with gray patches, and poorly maintained.

"This beauty is a Mossberg 590."

"Is that a good weapon or not?"

"I am not a big fan of Mossberg 590s. I like the Remington 870 better, but..."

"What makes you like the Remington more than the Mossberg?"

"Steel receiver as opposed to an aluminum receiver of the Mossberg. And the Mossberg feels kinda clanky."

"Is it a significant difference?" Sol asked although I don't think he realizes why talking about guns was more interesting than talking about the people I've met.

"No, it's barely any difference. It's a personal preference."

"Basically, it's the same thing as a Remington."

"Sort of. The bolt is a little different, and some of the other stuff..." I picked up the shotgun with both hands, giving my uneducated friend a full view of it facing the wall. "The barrel shroud is just a heat shield."

Sol looked like he was catching on to what I was saying and stretched his arms out. "And that prevents it from overheating."

"Nope, it keeps you from putting your hand on the barrel when it's really hot."

"Then it's a barrel guard?"

"Yep, heat shield."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sol took a deep breath, from which I knew he was coming to terms with this knowledge. But I had a question of my own for the moment.

"So, since I found it near Grece, was it originally created by German or Russian Shotguns?"

Sol remained silent for half a second, then forty seconds, then a minute before responding with a deadpanned expression. 

"...It's an American shotgun."

"Oh, so it was made by Heckler & Weston?"

While I asked reasonable questions, I noticed that Sol got up with the bag of Zeal and shining ore, setting it near where the OutRage was before coming back down with a vein on his cheek.

"No, it was made by Mossberg!" His hand reached for his headband, which he thankfully stopped himself before lowering and swiping his hand in the air. "Where are you even getting this from?"

I laughed a bit while leaning down with my arms supporting me slightly up. "Sorry, just thought about how vain someone has to be to name a rifle after yourself."

"The name of the company was Mossberg & Sons." 

I opened my mouth, forming a grin, but Sol looked at me like he was looking at a dead man. I've only seen those eyes was truly disgusting bounty we hunted got under his skin, murderers, kidnappers, rapists, that kind. And that scared me, and my good friend went on cracking the table.

"If you ask if the Mossberg was made in 590, I will kick your ass."

I held up my hands in surrender, but my grin was still on my face. "So it was made in 590."

"No, but I remember that these shotguns have been around since, I dunno, the 60's."

"Then why didn't they call it the Mossberg 1960's?"

"Because different companies name their guns different things!" Sol said, flabbergasted, but contiued soon after. "Take Glocks, for example; they are named after what patent number it is. This is why a Glock 17 has nothing to do with the mag size..."

"So, in a way..." I was preparing myself to run out of here the moment I asked, but my only saving grace was that Sol wouldn't destroy the lab. Oh shit, he might do it just so he can get to me. But I had to follow through with my words.

That's when I began chuckling, with beads of cold sweat running down my neck. "After 589 failed attempts at getting a patent..."

Sol tore off his headband and threw it into a corner, flipping over the table; he charged at me. "THAT'S IT, YOU'RE DEAD!"

That's when I knew I had to run out of here, as I saw a red haze take over his body, and his eyes went a bright shining golden. I sprinted out of the laboratory.