Drifter to Another World | Volume 1

Difficult Justice

The next morning was ice cold, the sun rising as the trio moved through the snowy mountains. Covered in thick fur clothing they were finally warm, wearing goggles as they moved through a snowstorm.

Slowly moving through the snow they pause, the launcher wielding Xander hiding behind a snow covered rock, peeking from atop to spy on a small campsite.

"Bandit camp ahead! Are you all -"

Sara smacked the shouting Xander on the back of the head, the man's goggles slipping off from the impact.

"I know yelling everything is your gimmick but please be quiet."

"Sorry! Are you two ready to bring them in to justice!?"

Looking back he saw Sara nod, a smile growing on his face as he squeezed his launcher tightly. Before they strike the camp he realizes something was wrong, looking around for something.

"Um, Sara!? Where has Raymond gone!?"

"He's..."

She squinted, looking over to see a figure creeping towards the camp, using the snowstorm to their advantage. 

Moving through the snow was Raymond, the boy going alone as he made his way to the first of four tents.

His now silver hair blended in with the white terrain, the boy taking advantage of the environment as he pulled out a small serrated knife.

"What is he doing, going in alone?" Sara whispers, Xander the one to notice what was going on.

"Not so fast, Sara! Just watch!"

Raymond used his knife to split the ropes that pitched the tent down, a massive net of fabric falling onto the sleeping bandits.

Immediately panic rises, figures appearing from under the netting fabric, doing their best to get out from under the surprisingly heavy material.

"What's going on!? Who the hell pitched these -"

As one bandit shouted he got a heavy kick to the head, Raymond efficiently knocking them all out in the panic.

Xander couldn't help but be excited by the plan's success, shouting out loud as he tugged a bundle of rope meant to arrest the bandits.

"This is why he's my most trusted compadre!"

Immediately the other bandits react to hearing an unfamiliar voice, seven armed men pouring out from their tents. Some took the time to wear armor while others were still wearing their pajamas.

Their leader was the last to appear, the captain a large, muscular man wearing a horned helmet and bearskin for clothing. Rubbing his sleepy eyes he looked about, yawning before speaking to his crew.