ANGLER RETURNS?
This ENTROPY reporter spotted former UMBA Gladiator, Monster and Heavyweight Trainer Angler leaving Southpaw’s fight club last night, sporting a black eye and a heavy-looking pouch of winnings. Could this be a sign that he’s coming back to Bastion for good?
Disappointingly, questions over whether or not his Fans should expect to see him taking on the next generation of competitors in the Arena soon were met with a snort and a “I’d rather brush THE TENT’s teeth.”
- From ENTROPY, Season 3, Issue 5
“Holy shit, Suplex, what happened to your face?”
“Got into a bar fight with some old Arena fighter. It was probably the best experience of my life. Wish I could remember more of it.”
“Whoa, really? Which one?”
“Okay, so you remember the Ultimate Survivor Championship in the final UMBA Season?”
“Obviously. I still have the posters. Why?”
“Yeah, so I didn't recognise him at first but, uh… yeah, the guy who I ended up wrestling was Angler.”
“…How are you still alive?”
- A conversation overheard in the Blackout Bar.
“Rest easy, old friend. Still miss you; never going to stop missing you.”
Having said his piece, Angler stands and steps away from the small marble cairn. The sun is rapidly setting in the Wasteland and the single point of light from the candle set on top of the memorial burns brightly in the still air.
He meets his Monster halfway down the hillside. She’s resting contentedly where he left her, long neck curled around her body as she softly snores. One wide eye opens when she hears the familiar sound of his footsteps.
“Come on, up you get,” he says fondly, petting her dark mane. She protests, snorting steam from both nostrils as she curls stubbornly tighter into a ball – but as Angler rolls his eyes and pulls a sugar cube from his pocket, she unwinds to eagerly snaffle the treat.
He hops onto her back as she licks her lips. In the distance, Oasis glows against the darkening sky. They’ll be home within the hour, and most bandits know better than to roam the route between the village and Basilica’s shrine.
Being an expert with a trident does make the message sink in quickly, Angler has found.
The giraffe finally hauls herself to her feet and under Angler’s directions, she begins the rest of the descent down the hill. Angler leans comfortably against the base of her neck, idly spinning his trident.
“Hey,” he finally says. “You there?”
Always, the voice of Black Diamond replies from the back of his mind.
“How are things back on your end?”
Interesting. The one called Frost has introduced me to something she calls a child.
“Whoa, okay. I mean, I trust you, but is the whole nightmare forest thing not… a bit intense for a kid?”
It asked me many questions. It was less afraid than you were when we first met.
“Huh. Makes sense, in a weird kind of way.”
Did you have anything else to ask?
“Nah. Just – uh…”
Speak.
“…it’s nothing. I just feel like I should say good night, or something.”
Black Diamond cannot smile, and according to all of its claims has little capacity for friendship, but the voice in his mind has an undertone that almost reaches fondness as it replies.
Good night, Angler.
