He put his beer down. "Hmm, steady pay, a place to crash, and I assume whiskey will be provided?" He rubbed his chin. "Sounds like a good deal." He pulled some caps out and set them on the bar. "Well stranger, you just hired yourself a merc. Though for you, that's probably a daily thing."
(I'll try and post again later, im currently away from home.) Crimson was inside of his hideout that he had called home for the previous two months. He was dressed in full Elite Riot Gear with the exception of the helmet and was aiming down the sights of his rifle 'Final Requiem'. As he shot, his target dropped to the ground the moment he laid eyes on him. Beside his target were hundereds or even thousands of dead slaver corpses who tried to take on Archangel, and failed miserably. While some did manage to get into the hideout, they were quickly gunned down due to a turret system that Crimson installed. The apartment that was his hideout was two stories high and had long open windows which were blasted out from the megaspell shockwaves and was the only building for miles. Crimson was having the time of his life. He was taking down evil one bullet at a time, he was wiping out an enormous slaver population single handedly and was using his favorite weapon with almost virturally unlimited ammo. Crimson reloaded in just under a second and fired three perfect shots on three enemies in an amazingly short timespan, killing them instantly. He had also managed to piss off the three largest slaver factions in the entire Equestrian Wasteland, and they united to take down their common enemy.
(I'm going to say Julion's and Bloody's conversation in woods happened the day before.) "You guessed right, now follow me if you will." The recruiter said, "We'll get you back to the Everfree and introduced into the Commandos." Just then the door slammed open and a 4 ponies walked in, 3 of whom were covered in black armor, the other covered up to the neck with it, and a fabled clean, yet jagged scar that was very visible reaching from his eye to his mouth, "Brust, suit up, we've got a massive concentration of slavers located, and we can't let this opportunity to strike a blow to their operations to simply slip by." Then he noticed Sheild, and with one quick look at Brust, he knew he was a new recruit. "Listen up boyo, here in the Commandos we go in and get things done. And looks like we have a perfect test for you to see how well you can do alongside some of the most elite of the Commandos. Snipes! Give him his gear and let's move out!" one of the ponies nodded and stepped forward, holding out a hoof-worn device like a pip-buck and also a strange rifle, "Here, the hoof device is called the Compact Armor Deployment System, or C.A.D.S., and this is a AER-17, our common rifle. It's all fairly self explainitory. Now get it on quickly because we are moving out now!"
Crimson simply took cover when it was necessary and took out slavers like they were made of tissue paper. More and more bodies began to pile up until the vast area of dirt and burnt trees in front of the hideout was littered with corpses. By now, there were only about fifty Slavers left when in comparison when Crimson assumed that the body count was at least over ten thousand. The Slavers were shocked and utterly horrified of what they have heard about The Archangel in their reports, but now found out that the reports and stories are true. One Slaver did manage to hit Crimson in the chest with a rocket launcher. Crimson flew across the room and got back up as soon as he could from his injury's. His armor began it's self repair maintenance which lasted five minutes. Five minutes was more than enough to end this battle and went back to the window. Crimson aimed out the window and shot three more slavers who tried rush thowards the hideout. When they fell, Crimson decided to savor the moment by turning on the old jukebox next to him as it played a classical pre war jazz song. As the lyrics were sung, Crimson hummed the song before singing it softly in nostalgia while his enemies tried to flank and kill him. The slavers attempts at being heroes didn't last long when they felt a burning sensation poor across their body before their deaths. "Just like old times..." he said to himself quietly.
Rosenburg gave another warm smile. "Well, nice to meet you Bryz. What's the last thing you remember before entering that stasis pod?"
"its a custom made manidonian Flintlock pistol, Its over 400 years old, it use to belong to my brother. So you will never be able to get one, unless you can go back in time"
"Aw what a shame that pistol looks powerful" Tyler said saddened "but anyway do you think we should look for somepony else?" Tyler askeed
