Kids with guns

In the heart of the desolate plain, where rocks punctuated the landscape like jagged teeth, and verdant blades of grass danced in the breeze, there existed a scene of both beauty and brutality. Ponds shimmered like liquid silver under the sun, yet their tranquility was marred by the echoes of past battles, their waters tainted with the blood of fallen warriors. Really, all that dramatic nonsense.

Amidst this harsh environment, Redrum stood tall, his fur the color of freshly spilled blood, his eyes bright with determination. He was a young creature of steadily growing fire and passion, eager to prove himself in combat. His skull swiveled to peer behind him, tail wagging like a rutter out of water. His lips were pulled up in a smile, wicked only in the way it curled the corners of his maw so widely.

"Ready. Ripper?" Redrum asked, his mechanical voice tinged with excitement as they approached the battlefield. He had easily convinced his brother to spar in the battlefield, a place their mother frequented – of course her sons would be little carbon copies of that ethic.