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[thebestofoneshots]

MARAUDWEEEN

Renegades | Remus Lupin x reader

Pairing: Remus L. x Reader + bits of Sirius x reader

Word Count: 6.8 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, bit of oral near the end (male receiving) consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

Prompt: As a part of the Maraudween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where Remus Lupin is the Sheriff of Moonridge and you’re an outlaw he’s bound to chase after, but there’s a catch, you knew each other in the past, and the tension between the two is palpable, to say the least.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

The sun was hot against you, almost burning the unclothed soft skin of the back of your hand as you stared at the long dirt road ahead of you. There was a man a few feet from you, tall, broad chest, handsome. The Sheriff of Moonridge, Moony, as Sirius would call him, just to spite the man. Or… The Wolf, like most criminals, knew him. 

Things didn’t go awry on his watch, Moonridge was the safest town in the west and it was because they had a protecting Wolf against all the bandits that even dared get close enough. No one had managed to cause havoc in his town. No one except yourself. 

His hand was on his hostler, so was yours, you could see his grip tightening in the distance, a warning, telling you he was ready, telling you he was faster, telling you you’d be gone in an instant if he took it out. He was the fastest gunsIinger of the West. You smiled, placing your own hand on your own hostler, because it didn’t matter if he was faster, not today at least. 

3 seconds passed, he was looking at the way you smiled when a horse barged in from the side. Sirius and Firebolt. Your smile grew wider as the man on the horse extended his hand and hauled you over it, zigzagging his way towards the Sheriff. 

“Took you long enough,” you huffed. 

Sirius looked back and flashed you a smile as he bit his lip “Saw this beauty,” He said as he raised one of his hands up to your face, there was a small gold ring on his pinky, contrasting against the rest of silver rings he wore “Had to get it for my favourite outlaw.” 

“You’re not gonna appease me with a little trinket.” 

He pouted “Come on baby, you really think I only got one little trinket?” he asked as he nodded to the thick bag that hung from his belt “I’d get you the entire jewellery if that’s what you wanted.” 

You smiled and rolled your eyes, pulling out his gun and firing a warning shot against the Sheriff's feet even in the horse, you had one hell of an aim. That’s how Sirius had discovered you and hauled you into the life of an outlaw after your parents passed away and your uncle was ready to sell you to an old man in exchange for a piece of land. 

When you were about to pass next to the man, you put the gun back on Sirius’ hostler and placed your hand on his shoulder, “What are you…?” he started to ask, but shut his mouth when he noticed. 

You had leaned down and taken the Sheriff’s hat from his head, and placed it on yours “Thanks Sheriff,” you said in a cocksure tone, a mocking smile and a wink before taking the gun from Sirius again and shooting another warning shot. A few more horses had gathered around you, the rest of the gang. 

“Just shoot him somewhere Fox!” Barty said as he got slightly close. 

“Oh, but Sheriff Moons is the only one that puts up a fight, it will be boring if he’s gone,” you responded with a pout. 

“Why the hat?” asked Sirius, he looked to you over his shoulder before turning back ahead, you could hear the hooves clicking against the ground, approaching your group fast. You turned around and saw the Sheriff, chasing after you on his massive steed, a gift from the bankers after he stopped a robbery, if the rumours were true.

“A little souvenir,” you said with a shrug as you turned around and waved at the Sheriff, hoisting your own gun out and shooting at the side of a light post, causing it to fall down on the floor, a few metres ahead of the man. 

“You missed,” teased Crouch. You just smiled, the kerosene from the broken street lamp was on the floor, slipping through the sides and making almost the perfect line, you shot at that this time around and the fire started ablaze. 

“You were saying?” you asked your friend, he gave you an approving look. There was a reason you had been made a member of The Marauders, and it wasn’t just to be the leader’s little plaything as some other bands assumed. 

Regardless of the fire, the Sheriff’s horse had no fear, and jumped over it, still trailing close behind, “Prongs, you got the timing right still, correct?” Sirius asked. 

James nodded, he was Sirius’ best friend, and one of the minds behind the plan of this heist, “Of course,” he said and Sirius tightened his grip on the reins and spurred Firebolt. 

Things were getting faster, you kept shooting at things to deter the Sheriff from following, but he was just as relentless as your gang, and followed behind the three of you. “It’s coming,” you said when you heard the whistle of the train. The chug-chug of it would have been enough to deter any horse, but you had trained yours well. 

When the train was about to reach the spot you walked through, the horses jumped, to the other side of the tracks, your hat –Remus hat– almost flew off your head, but you managed to hold it with one hand while you used the other to grab onto Sirius and avoid falling of the horse yourself. Once Crouch, the last one to cross made it, the train passed right in front of you, making the perfect wall, in between you and the sheriff. 

But that wasn’t the end of the plan, there was a chirping sound from a few carts back and suddenly a side of the train fell open, inside waited for you the rest of the gang. Peter, the mousy guy nicknamed Wormtail and Evan, Bartie's lover. The second guy was a lot more on the peaceful side, but when Barty joined he clarified that he came as a package. Either Evan came with him or he continued by himself, the way he always had been. 

James and Sirius agreed, and he was glad he did, since it was thanks to that, that they had another master planner in the team. All the horses jumped up the ramp and into the train, and Evan and Wormy quickly picked the latch up and closed the cart. You smiled and looked at Sirius, a shine in your eyes that let him know exactly what you wanted, “Was it perhaps dangerous?” Yes. But Sirius already knew you found a thrill for danger when he recruited you. He also knew you ended up in a better mood when he indulged you. 

You gave him a wink and went to the door of the wagon and opened it with a rather strong pull, slipping out only partially, the Sheriff, had been shocked when the train passed and there was no one left, being stunned by the magic of it before realising you’d somehow gotten on the train and chasing behind. He was a few blocks back, and you smiled, pulling off the hat in a small nod and waving to him with it “Thanks for the souvenir,” you shouted. He pulled his gun and aimed a shot, but you moved to the side and he missed by the hair, you were expecting it. You gave the man a pout as he aimed again, but Sirius was faster, pulling you inside and shutting the door before the second shot even reached the cart. 

“You’re absolutely insane,” Evan said in disbelief. 

You shrugged “I like to think I’m fun.” You then placed the hat back in your head “What do we think?” you asked with a smile “Nice souvenir, right?” 

“It’s rather elegant,” agreed Barty. 

“How long are we staying?” Sirius asked Evan. 

“12 more minutes,” the blonde responded as he checked his pocket watch, “then we’re out and ride towards Hideout 6.” 

You smiled and hummed “I love Hideout 6.”

Barty almost rolled his eyes, he knew why you liked it, he liked it for the same reason. It was big, it had comfortable beds and private rooms. He just didn’t like when Sirius and you were too loud.

A few minutes later, you heard a clock chime and James spoke “Time to get down.”

 Peter rode with him, while Evan got on Barty’s horse. You, as you had done earlier, mounted Firebolt along Sirius. They opened the ramp and you all rode down and towards the hideout. In less than half an hour, you’d already gotten there. Evan checked the traps, to make sure no one had sneaked inside while you were gone and you all got in. You took a piece of dried jerky to snack on and walked upstairs, Sirius and the rest stayed, splitting the plunder. While on a normal gang, you wouldn’t trust them to do it evenly without you, you knew Sirius and James would never allow such scheming inside the Marauders. More than a team, the group was like a family. 

You were lying on the bed, the sheriff’s hat over your head blocking out the light when you heard a knock on the door “Who?” 

“The love of your life,” he responded, you rolled your eyes but mumbled something that sounded close to “come in”, not that it had been necessary, Sirius was already walking inside. “I see you’ve kept the hat,” he said before sitting beside you, turning the bag he’d hold onto and letting the contents fall on the bed. 

You took it from your head and sat down beside him, to take a peek at what he’d kept, “Smells nice,” you said pointing at the hat dismissively. Sirius took the hat to his nose, and it really did smell nice. While most cowboys’ hats smelled like nothing more than sweat, this one had a rather distinctive and pleasant aroma, most likely from whatever grooming products the owner used “We should ask him what cologne he’s using now.” 

Sirius sighed “You miss him, do you not?” 

You shrugged, ignoring the question “We’ve picked very different paths to his own,” you said simply, a tone that let Sirius know that you did not want to talk about it. But after all, it had also been why you never shot him directly. 

You all knew The Wolf of Moonridge, except you knew him as Remus. 

Sirius traced his finger over your clothed thigh, and you gave him a soft smile, one that contrasted with whatever mask it was you wore when you stepped outside the hideouts and onto a raid. One that only he and maybe James were allowed to see, he loved it. And then gave you a similar face in return. He grabbed onto your hand and pulled it towards his, taking the ring from his small finger and slipping it onto your ring one. Sirius had always had relatively thin fingers, even for a man. 

You extended your hand with a half smile and looked at it, turning it around swiftly as you stared “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?” 

“Anything looks beautiful on you,” he said, and then smirked “In fact, nothing looks better on you.” 

You gave him a rather incredulous look with his suggestive little tone, he pulled you by the hips on top of him, the rest of the gems and jewels he had stolen already forgotten on the bed as he pulled you into a heated kiss.  You were already halfway removing the buttons of his shirt when there was a rather urgent knock on the door. 

You both ignored it, and went back to kissing, but the person persisted, both of you separated from each other and looked at the door “What?” you said at the same time, annoyance laced in your tone. 

“We’ve been found out. Moony followed us somehow.” 

“What?!” You asked with a frown “Not Hideout 6!” you whined. 

“That clever son of a bitch,” Sirius huffed “Alright luv,” he said, his hand patting your leg “Time for some action,” he added with a half smile.

You hummed in response. As Sirius stood up, you grabbed the bag and threw all the jewels inside, fastening it to your belt before putting your boots on, “Hey babe?” He hummed, “Don’t you think Sheriff Moons grew up rather handsome?” 

Sirius threw you a look “He grew up fine,” he responded. 

“Aye he did,” you said. “If it were a different situation, perhaps we could drag him to our bed.” 

He looked at you, eyes narrowing “You want to drag him to your bed, don’t you?” 

You shrugged, putting on the sheriff’s hat again “He smells really nice.” 

Sirius laughed at the silly innocent smile you were giving him after hearing such a request “If anyone can convince him, it’s definitely you darling…” He dragged you by the waist and placed another kiss on your lips, taking some time to smell the sides of your face, exactly where you had placed the hat earlier “You’re right, he does.” 

When you separated you smiled up at him, and then you heard a gunshot, “I hope he doesn’t fucking ruin hideout 6 for everyone,” you said with a huff as you took a кnife and placed your gun in your hostler. Sirius grabbed you by the waist again, pulling you to him. Your eyes shone with lust at the instructions he whispered into your ear, “And that would work?” you asked, turning to him with a shrewd look. 

“Don’t overestimate your abilities, darling,” he told you with a wink and nodded, a sly smirk forming on your face as you both placed yourselves on each side of the door. Sirius opened it carefully, the gunshots still going off in the distance. 

There was a moment of heavy breathing as the door opened completely, and then Sirius leaned over the frame, only letting a little of his head out as he searched for signs of someone. He pulled back and nodded. The two of you stepped out, guns held high as you walked down the stairs. 

Midway down, you heard a gunshot, the bullet biting onto the wood of the railling and spluttering to the side. You looked around, they were shooting from the outside, Barty and Evan were shooting from one of the windows while Peter and James were on the sides of the front door, the hinges had been torn apart by a gunslinger with surprising accuracy and the door was currently laying on the floor. 

“Well there goes hideout six,” you mumbled “How many?” 

“At least 6 of them,” Barty responded. 

“Sheriff’s with them,” James warned. 

You took a deep breath but nodded looking at Sirius and tilted your head just a little “Andromeda's Strategy?” 

Sirius took a second to process your suggestion and nodded in response “We’re doing Andromeda, get ready.” 

You smiled, in seconds the boys were shooting and both you and Sirius finished walking down the stairs and into a more secluded area. You walked to the side of the house and used a lighter to turn on a long fuse that was connected to the garden with an underground pipe. “Ears!” you shouted, and everyone placed their hands over their own.

3…2…1… Boom!

The explosion caused some of the men to fall back and then started emitting a good deal of smoke. You didn’t say a thing, everyone knew what they had to do. Sirius mounted Firebolt and offered you his hand, but you shook your head “I’m taking his horse, he’ll have to follow.” 

Sirius gave you an incredulous look, and then smiled proudly “I’ll see you at our spot later, deal?” 

You nodded with a little smirk as you bit your lip. “If things go as planned, we’ll definitely have fun.” 

Sirius winked at you and started riding away. You took that as your sign and went through the smoke. The others were still distracted enough not to notice you when you walked behind them, uniting most of their horses and firing a shot just next to them to scare them away. You mounted Moony’s horse and let the last one free, but you didn’t prompt it to run, after all, Remus would have to find a way to follow you. 

Once some of the smoke dissipated, you made sure Remus saw you, pulling the horse back a little to make him stand on his back legs for just a second before riding away. The boys were already riding in all sorts of directions, all different to your own and the men didn’t know who to follow behind, until Remus gave them orders. 

He’s certainly good at giving orders, you thought as you waved at him with a taunting smile on your face. One of his men, a short, disagreeable-looking dude pointed his gun at you, and you stared at him, you knew he was a bad shot from the sole way he stood, legs wobbling and posture askew, poor dude, it might have been his first day. He fired the shot, but Remus pushed him away before he tried again “Not at my horse,” he said sternly. 

You smiled “Yeah, not at his horse,” you repeated and rode off. Remus mounted the only horse left and indicated the others to follow behind the trial of the rest of the marauders. 

“She’s the best shot in the county boss, it’s a bad idea to go alone.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Remus said, offering no further explanation before following behind you.

You both sped through the desert, it didn’t take him that long to catch up with you “Darling, I’m gonna need you to give back my horse and my hat,” he shouted, as he levelled with you. 

“And surrender like that?” you asked with a pout “That wouldn’t be fun Remus,” you said before spurring the horse, leaving Moony behind. 

Eventually, when you lost sight of him, you walked inside a small abandoned-looking little house, where you used to live before your family passed away. You walked inside and waited, you started to get bored at some point and went to rummage through the kitchen. You heard the creak of a floorboard and then someone was hauling you from the back, a кnife at your throat and a strong arm pressing you against his chest with enough force to keep you there but not enough to hurt you. 

You pulled your hips back against his “Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” 

He tightened his grip, кnife prickling at the tender skin of your neck “Come on… why do you do this?” he asked. 

“Because it’s fun Moons,” you replied as you felt the кnife pierce just slightly, deciding to pull your hips back again, this time making sure to roll them against his. 

“Stop that!” he ordered. 

“Make me,” you responded with a devilish little smirk, he hauled you off him and onto a nearby wall, кnife still at your throat. 

“Come on darling-“ 

“It’s Fox now,” you interrupted. 

“Does Sirius also call you that now?” 

You didn’t respond, jaw clenching slightly. 

“Thought so,” he said with a nod and whispered your name, almost a plea, completely in contrast with the way he had you against the wall, a small line of bIood already dripping from your neck, “Just… come back.” 

“Back where?!” you said with a frown “With Uncle Cliff? So he can sell me off to the first old banker that asks for my hand? No, thank you.” 

“Marry me, I’ll ask Cliff for your hand.” 

You scoffed the кnife digging deeper into your skin, Remus pulled it back when he noticed, not having realised he had caused you to bleed, “What a hell of a proposal, with a кnife against my neck and one against your ribs.” 

“What кnife against my–?” He looked down and realised your hand toying with one of the buttons of his vest, he sighed and turned back to you “I’m faster. I’ve always been faster.” 

“No doubt,” you smiled, “but you want to slice my throat as much as I want to get married to an old rich banker.” 

“You don’t want to stab me either,” he said as he pulled back, raising his hand and placing the кnife on its hoster. “The offer’s on, either way.” 

You raised your eyebrows, leaning back against the wall and using your ascot to clean the bIood from your neck. “The marriage proposal you mean?” He looked to the side but nodded. “Why didn’t you ask me before?” 

That seemed to take him by surprise “I’m sorry?” 

“Before this,” you said, arms open, trying to express before you became who you were now. 

He swallowed “You’d always liked Sirius.” 

“That’s bullshit.” 

He huffed “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” 

That pulled a frown “What? Why?” 

Then he pulled a look at you, a frown and a small tilt of his head as if he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to say it was because of the way he looked, because of the scars, because he had nothing to offer you back then. 

You gasped “Don’t be ridiculous, you must get hundreds of women thrown at you, the Handsome Wolf of Moonridge, you think I haven’t heard the stories?” 

“They’re not like you.” 

“You hold way too high standards for me Moons,  I think I’m just like them, swayed by the handsome cowboy,” you said and walked towards him, placing your hand on his badge “And the little shiny star on his chest.” 

He frowned, “You just want me to let you go,” he said bitterly. 

“Au contraire,” you said with a tilt of the head. “I want you to join us. We could use a great gunslinger.” 

He raised his eyebrows “to stop being the Sheriff and join your gang of outlaws?” 

“Mh-hm,” you said, your hands were now on his neck, tracing over some of the scars with a feather-like touch. 

“No.” 

You stood on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Allow me to persuade you.” 

“NO,” he repeated, stronger this time, you smiled. You could hear the wavering in his voice.

You pressed a soft kiss, wet kiss to his jaw, and you felt him tense, another kiss and he was relaxing against you, his body giving in while his mind still raised with thoughts, you continued kissing until you reached the corner of his mouth, pressing a kiss that lasted just a second longer before pulling away “Tell me if you want me to stop,” you said looking at him, a deadIy serious tone in your voice. 

Remus looked at you, eyes pleading before he placed his hands on the sides of your head and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed back instantly, brushing your tongue over his and deepening the kiss when he parted them to let you in. Remus was kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe, and you kissed back in a similarly desperate manner. 

Eventually, you pulled apart to take a breath, and you saw his doubtful face. He was about to say something when you leaned down to trail kisses from his jaw to his neck, fighting with the collar of his shirt for more space. 

He saw you reach for your кnife, and he let you, if he was going to diе in between your kisses, then it would be the sweetest farewell a man like him could hope for. But you only used it to cut the buttons of his vest, letting the кnife fall on the floor before pulling the piece of clothing off from him. He allowed you, he’d allow you to do whatever the hell you wanted to him at that point if he was being honest. 

He had been pretty passive up until then, but the moment you grazed over his thin linen shirt with your fingernails he seemed to be brought back. Placing his hand on your hips and pushing you further onto the wall, you smiled in between kisses as he pressed his knee in between your legs. You were still kissing him as you started to rock your hips against his leg, grinding on him shamelessly. 

He groaned at the feeling of your hips rolling back and forth, grabbing your hair and pulling it lightly to get your lips away from his neck, to be able to look at your face again, to make sure it was real, to make sure it really had been you. 

You smiled when you realised he was staring, thinking of a snarky remark to give only for it to be caught in your throat the moment he leaned down to kiss it. Licking over the place he had unwittingly cut and savouring the taste of sweat and copper “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against it as he continued to press kisses, “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Neither Remus nor you were sure if he was sorry for slicing your skin, for not daring to ask you to marry him before you became “Fox”, or for taking this long to finally press his lips to yours, perhaps it was all of it.

“Then make it up to me,” you managed to say with another roll of your hips against his leg. 

He hummed into your neck, a mischievous smile, reminiscent of when you were children appeared on his lips “Tell me what you want.” 

There were so many things that you wanted, but the only thing that could come to your mind in that precise instant was “Fewer clothes.”

“Yours or mine?” he teased and you huffed in response as he pulled his hands from you to unbutton his shirt and pull it off, he then went for yours, untying the ascot with his hands and teeth and immitting your earlier movement by taking his кnife to break the buttons of your shirt apart, and pulling it off along with your jacket, leaving you only with a corset. 

He took his moment to look, to appreciate, before you spoke “Commission a drawing, it’ll last longer,” you teased. 

“Sirius must have hundreds already, I could always confiscate them when we finally trap you.” 

“Or you could ask for them nicely once you join our team,” you countered. 

He huffed a laugh in response “And now?” 

“And now?” You repeated. 

“What else do you want?” he asked, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, torturous feather light touches that made you feel like you were on fire. 

You flushed and his gaze darkened, “touch me,” you whispered and he complied, his hands trailing all over your body shamelessly as he started to flex his thigh muscles, causing you to go back to riding it, with his help now. 

He too, without being prompted, went back to kissing your neck, now trailing kisses down your collarbone and towards the valley of your breasts. Lucious, soft breasts that would press against the fabric of your corset whenever you breathed, taunting him. He wanted to see them bare, and so he trailed his hands through your back and felt the laces. He toyed with one of the ends before looking at you, you nodded and he undid the top, trying to unlace it as he kissed. 

But Remus wasn’t a particularly patient man, even being often teased by his friends due to his sometimes explosive temperament. He went back to his hoster and took the кnife out. “Don’t move,” he commanded. You stared at him with a smirk as he peered over your shoulder, grazing the skin of your back with the кnife before latching it against the lacing of your corset and cutting them all open in one swift motion. 

You smiled, holding the piece of clothing against yourself and releasing only when he had pulled back enough to see. You let it slowly fall from your chest, it wasn’t even halfway down when he fisted it and threw it to the side, desperate to see you. 

To see you up front, to see what his imagination had been showing him for so many years but better, brighter, warmer, softer and alive. He had seen a few of Sirius’ drawings, all from the fantasies of his head from when they were younger, but nothing compared to this, nothing compared to you. 

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he murmured under his breath. 

“Could have it every day if you joined us,” you said, taking one of his hands in yours and leading it to one of your breasts. 

He smiled at you, eyebrows raised but complied, letting your hand guide his, squeezing and then pinching your now hardened nipples “Could also have the entire law system behind my back, having to turn my head and worrying about getting shot every ten seconds,” he responded sarcastically as he trailed kisses down your neck towards the breast he wasn’t touching yet, “Not being able to sleep properly, always with a gun under my pillow and a кnife strapped to my leg.” 

You moaned when he kissed your breast, he was enjoying the way the soft, supple flesh pushed under his mouth and sprang back just as he pulled away to look “Wouldn’t it be worth it?” you asked, breathless. 

The sounds you were making were driving the man to insanity, him fading and fading away, leaving only the hungry wolf. He hummed as he took your nipple in between his teeth and nibbled on it softly, causing yet another moan to erupt from your mouth. Perhaps it would be, he thought. 

You lowered your hand towards his pants, palming him softly as he groaned into your breast. He was hard and he was definitely big, a testament to his height after all. You couldn’t be sure until you actually saw him, but he felt bigger than Sirius did.

“Fuck, dove…” he said as you started stroking him gently, hand still over his pants, dragging up and down and gripping unto him when you felt the outline against your palm. 

“Language Sheriff,” you teased, this time it was you who pulled his hair and dragged him towards your lips, kissing him with an almost feverish ardour that left the two of you breathless, all the while you continued to rock your hips against his thigh and he continued to flex his muscles against your cunt. And your hand, that devious hand of yours, the sharpest shot in the west, trading the gun for his cock, never stopping the lazy and soft strokes. “Ask me that question of yours again Remus…” you breathed into his mouth when your lips separated for just a second.

He smirked into your lips “Tell me doll, what do you want?” 

You smiled “I want you to…” you breathed “touch more.” 

He looked surprised at your request, and you used the moment to drag the hand on your waist lower, enough to bring it in between your pants. Remus took the opportunity and seized it, using his free hand to unbutton the few buttons that kept the pants in position and freely roam around, you were wet, almost impossibly wet. He didn’t wait too much, tracing his fingers through your folds as he used his knee to hoist you up and get better access, massaging and exploring the sensitive area until he discovered a spot that made you tighten your grip around his bicep, digging your nails so hard you almost pierced his skin. 

“You want more of that?” he asked as he brought his lips back to your neck, you nodded and pushed your hips against his hand again, chasing for more  friction and he chuckled, shaking his head in between kisses “No, no, use that pretty little mouth of yours to ask for it dove,” he tutted. 

You whined in response, and he just chuckled further, taking his hand away and placing it on your leg “Remus!” you warned. 

“Yes, dove? What do you want?” he asked calmly. 

You scoffed in frustration licking your lips as you fought your way to surrender, and then you thought of yet another way to rile the man up “I want your fingers, Remus. I want them inside me, now.” 

He considered asking you to say please at least, to beg, but he was mildly aware that you may or may not bonk him in the head if he dared to do such a thing, so he only listened, dragging his fingers back to your cunt, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with how wet his hands were and then, without a warning, digging two fingers inside you. Your breath hitched in your throat and your nails dug into his bicep even more, leaving little crescent moons imprinted on his skin, very proper for the Wolf of Moonridge. 

“Hurts?” he asked breathlessly. You buckled your hips against his fingers in response. “Good,” he added and started pumping them in and out, curling them inside of you and toying with your clit as he did “You’re so fucking tight,” he mumbled, more to himself, but you heard either way, and clenched around his fingers, causing yet a few other curses to leave his mouth.

As he fingerfucked you, you brought your free hand down, stopping your own strokes to take it off, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall on the floor with a thud as you also took the button of his briefs off. His cock pretty much sprang and bumped with his belly as they too fell on the floor. You buckled your hips against his hand, head pulling back and biting your lips as he touched a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Fuck Remus,” you breathed out, his name on your lips making the most pleasurable sound he’d ever heard. 

He repeated his actions and in a matter of seconds, he had you panting, barely managing to make a coherent thought until you clenched around him again, hips making the most erratic movements until you leaned down your head against his bare shoulder as he slowed his pace. 

“So… You still very sure you don’t want to be the Sheriff’s little wife?” he asked in cocky tone.

It took you a minute to process his question, his fingers still moving inside you although the pace had slowed significantly, and then you stared down, his cock was still there, hard and proud, a bit of precum brimming from the tip, you smiled and reached down, wrapping your hand around him and relishing on the way he groaned, the sound so close to your ear you almost shivered in return. You moved your hand up and then down and then toyed with the tip. Sirius had taught you how good it made men feel, seemed to be working just as well on Moony. 

As you stroked him, Remus’ fingers became less confident, less focused, almost lost in the pleasure you were giving him, he was panting, you had managed to stand straighter and he had his head on your shoulder now, head cloudy and kissing your neck whenever his head allowed him to make a coherent thought. He had never felt this good with anyone. Whatever it was you were doing to him, you clearly knew what to do. 

“Ask me that question again,” you taunted. 

He seemed fazed, blinking at you in between pants “What,” breath “do you,” another deep breath “want?” 

You smiled at that “I want this,” you tightened your grip around his cock just a little “now.” 

That seemed to bring Remus’ vigour back, he pulled his leg from under you and allowed you to fall back on the ground, you pushed your pants off as fast as you could and Remus took a moment to look at you, to really look at your naked frame and his pupils were blown, much more that they had been in the past. He tried to memorise every curve and corner and crevice, scared he wouldn’t be able to see them again, you saw the way he stared at you and bit your lip “I said now, Remus.” 

He didn’t make you wait another second, placing both of his hands on the side of your waist and hoisting you up on him, so you were straddling him, you bit your lip at the feeling of his thick and warm cock against your folds, and grinded against him by pushing your hips and tightening your legs around his torso. He tightened his hold on your waist, his breath growing heavier as he felt your wetness against him directly. 

You rolled your hips again “All right, hold on,” he said “I’m trying to adjust.” You just rolled your hips against him again, causing the skin around his cock to ride down, and prompting him to hiss. “I said wait goddamnit,” he insisted a bit more commanding this time around. 

 You smirked “I like it when you order me around Sheriff Moons,” you joked, and he threw you a warning look, you opened your mouth again, but he had taken his cock into his hands and rubbed the tip to your clit, so instead of another witty remark you only managed to gasp.

It was he who smirked now, but then he stared at you, looking at you attentively “I’m going in,” he informed, and then he did, slowly, to allow you to adjust to his size, not completely at first, only the tip before pulling out again, next time he went in he pushed a little further again. You breathed slowly, he didn’t move, not until you started to clench around him, almost drawing him in even more “You feel so fucking good dove.” 

That was all the encouragement you needed, you rolled your hips against his, a little harshly and he pushed towards you again, you let a sound in between a whine and a moan and he repeated the action, pushing in and out just to hear that sweet sound of yours again. The sound that made him go wolfish, undomesticated, wild.  

Like an animal, like the wolf they always compared him with, he had no control, not when he was with you. At some point, you felt his lips on yours again, and you kissed back eagerly, you’d never taken Remus as a romantic, but then again, the way he was fucking you against the wall wasn’t exactly the most romantic either, he was harsh and strong and he pushed in and out of you with a ferocity that had you mumbling his name incoherently, sometimes Moons, sometimes Moony, sometimes Remus. That was his favourite.  

Regardless, there was something about the way he held you close to him, the way his hands would travel up and down your thigh, almost reverently, that you could see there was care behind his actions, perhaps something more, something hidden and locked up for years out of fear. 

At some point his movements became a little erratic, you clenched around him, just to tease and he bit your earlobe in response “I’m going to…” 

“Yeah, I know…” you responded. He pulled out of you, ready to catch it with his hand, but then he turned to you, a mischievous smile on his lips “where do you want me?” 

You were almost taken aback by his words, but you wouldn’t pass out such an opportunity, you kneeled down in front of him, and peered at him through your lashes “In my mouth.” 

He froze, and you smiled, the very reaction you had expected. Then you nodded your head and dragged it closer to him, wrapping your lips around his tip, and bobbing your head, just once, and you felt the spurts of liquid into your mouth, you bobbed again, helping him empty himself before separating completely, a line of spit forming between your mouth and his cock. You looked up at him as you panted, breath heavy and chest rising up and down, your nipples still perked, your lips wet and glossy, you were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen and he was about to lean down to kiss you again when you spoke. 

“Have I convinced you yet?” 

Remus didn’t say a thing, he looked at you as a deer trapped in the headlights would, still hazy and seeing stars from his close orgasm, but then he heard someone clear his throat, and he was quite literally looking at a star now, Sirius.“If she hasn’t,” Sirius said as he tilted his head in the most lustful and cocksure expression he had ever seen in his life, biting his lascivious lips before he spoke again “I may have an idea of how we can convince you… together.”

A/N: well I’d been wanting to write e Cowboy au for a while, and while there are still some other tropes that I would have liked to use (like the ties to the railroad trope) I’m pretty happy with the final result hehe. Especially with some of those dialogues between the reader and Remus. I literally had to stop writing to take a breather more than once.

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[saintslewis]

“𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑”

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: first date with the world’s newest married couple!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cursing, brand names, outfits descriptions, smau, typos.

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: aaannnnndddd we’re back! have quite a few wips so that took my time mainly lol. i truly love these two and i hope you guys do too 🥹. like i said, maybe i should make a schedule for this. hope you enjoy and let me know if you wanna be tagged 🤭.

pls do like, reblog and comment!

Tell me your thoughts guys!!!

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previous chapter

-

"what the fuck did we just do?" Nadia blurted out as she held the small but extremely expensive red bag in her shaking hand, her other hand over her mouth as she stared at it.

The man in question closed the car door to the backseats, making sure the two other shopping bags were secure. Climbing into the car, he looked at the frightened woman and desperately tried to hide his smile as she took small breaths. Eventually calming down with him typing on his phone, she reached into the deep red bag that read 'Cartier' and carefully took out the delicately wrapped boxes that held their respective wedding rings.

Walking into the luxurious store was a mission in itself as the newly married 'couple' had to pretend for the first time. With Lewis assuring her that it was usually empty during that specific time of day, Nadia tried to keep her cool together by entering the store she would only window shop from. Immediately when entering the private entrance, she could already feel the difference in the atmosphere, the quiet music through the hallways became a bit too overwhelming for her. What Nadia couldn't do was to understand what life she would be living from here on out, each step dragging the next as she watched the Harrods' security guards stand firm in their positions, guarding the gold elevator. Keeping within close proximity of each other, their arms would brush against each others from time to time and everytime she would glance at Lewis, he looked so unphased it was scary. It looked like he's been doing this for years.

As the two turned the corner and the jewellery store came into view, Nadia looked around at the other stores forming what seemed like a cul de sac within the store. The red and gold exterior of Cartier caught her eye and she and the man she was with gathered the workers and the customers attention. Giving a subtle nod and smile to both security guards standing on guard at the entrance, they opened the large Oakwood doors and a strong scent captivated her.

"Could I hold your hand?" Lewis asked quietly, holding his hand out for the younger woman to surprisingly grab onto in lightning speed. "My hands are really sweaty right now, I'm sorry." Nadia stressed. With their fingers intertwined and Lewis' cold rings managing to cool down her hand, he led into the shop where a sales associate was waiting patiently, gasping when she saw Lewis without his sunglasses and a woman standing next to him. Displaying a selling smile, the sales associate fixed her blazer and signaled to the security guards to close the doors.

"Mr Hamilton, what a pleasure to have you join us this afternoon. Greetings to the both of you. My name is Kim and I will be helping you today." Kim had said with a professional voice, leading them to her work desk near a counter showcasing diamonds and emeralds. "What brings you in today?" She asked, sitting on her desk chair and clearly directing the question towards Lewis. Before saying his words, Lewis knew that nothing he could say would be out these doors as the employees sign NDAs almost every week.

"Well, my wife couldn't find her ring at all for the past two weeks and rather decided to get a new one." He explained as he pulled out the chair for Nadia to sit before he did. The pure shock on the sales associate's face was borderline comedic, her jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "O-oh! Well, we definitely have a lovely range of wedding rings that would be suitable for the both of you, seeing as you guys are such a beautiful couple." Kim said with a shaky laugh, reaching to give them a look book for their purchase.

"I'll give you guys a couple of minutes to decide." And with that, the ever so young sales associate stood up from her assigned desk and left Nadia and Lewis to make their decision. Releasing a sigh she had kept in her from the moment they walked through the door, she looked at Lewis who just picked up the catalog and flipped through the pages.

"How are you so calm right now? My hands can't stop sweating, what the fuck." Nadia whisper-yelled, trying not to wipe her hands on anything near her whilst breathing through her nose. "I'm just used to this but it would've been nice if she wasn't so nervous." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning comfortably into the seat and his eyes scanning into the catalog. "Do you want to leave? Because we can. I really don't want you to be uncomfortable." Lewis suggested, placing his hand on her shoulder, somehow making her face him. Studying his face, she looked into his eyes as the sincerity poured out. He was worried, the fear literally showing through her but as she shifted her eyes to Kim who looked like she was coming over, a switch flipped in her.

Quickly grabbing the open catalog from the table, Nadia scanned the pages and landed on a ring that screamed at her with its luxury and simplicity. "Oh this is just stunning." She grinned, pointing at the picture of the ring. To say Lewis was surprised was an understatement but he could see what she was doing and it was smart. "It really is. Is this the one you want?" He asked, leaning close to her and noticed she didn't even move. Oh, she was really selling this.

"It's perfect." Nadia smiled so much so that her eyes closed.

-

"Wait so what do I say? Like happy 2 years or something?" Nadia asked, turning her body in the car seat to face Lewis. The two hadn't even put the rings on yet but they already were planning what to post on instagram.

"No clue. Did you choose what to post? Tia is bugging me about that." He said, sighing out for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Snapping her eyes at the man, he caught the look she sent him then clarified that she was his main pr manager. "I think I'll go with the flow when I choose the pictures." Awkwardly enough, Lewis and Nadia exchanged phone numbers and had to share a few photos with each other to have something to post for the world.

"You know, your dad mentioned that we should tell our friends before we tell the world." She said, slumping her head back into the surprisingly soft headrest. "Yeah. Uh my friends are in town so we could probably do something with them and announce it there." Lewis said, scratching at his hair out of nerves. He never was someone who got nervous often but this entire situation kept playing on his mind.

"Alright then. Home time?" He suggested, watching her nod before he even finished his sentence. He soon drove off with her address already on the car display, watching her as she admired the streets of London. They both knew this was going to be a long journey but it was worth helping each other out as their friendship began to bloom.

"Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you actually do for work? I feel like we've been talking about my job so much that I haven't taken the chance to know what you do. Y'know, besides shopping at Cartier so much that the workers recognise you." She asked, facing the car window and looking out as they passed through Central London. "Well um, I work in Formula One and it's been my..thing for the past 30 years." He revealed as he stopped at the red light, people from outside most definitely couldn't see inside the car even they tried.

"30? Oh my god, they had you working at 2?!" For this, Nadia sat up and looked at Lewis in astonishment, making him burst out laughing. "How old do you think I am?" He could barely get the question before giggling once again. "I thought you were at least 32. How are you older than 32?" Fully facing him now, Nadia couldn't believe what she was hearing because in her eyes, his features were very youthful (similar to hers but she didn't want to brag). "I'm 38, January 7th." Lewis said, giving her a closed smile.

Racking everything that she just learned about him, it all came back to her. Most Fridays when her students (whoever had History that time) would request to watch anything F1 related whilst she focused on something else or when the name 'Hamilton' was constantly thrown around between the last few minutes of classes almost every week. Even the 4 years she's been teaching at the same school, they would make a big deal every July before schools closed for the race in Silverstone and constantly cheer on the same British driver, Hamilton. Her new last name.

"Are you good? you went quiet on me for a second." Lewis glanced at Nadia as she had a slight pout on her face as she looked straight ahead, clearly her concentration face. "Just realised that most of my students adore you, borderline obsessed with you." She muttered but he heard her loud and clear. "And I don't know shit about you except that you drive super fast cars on weekends." She began clicking her nails as a way to distract her from her busy mind. "Okay, how about we go on a fake date after we tell the world about our marriage to get to know one another so we can understand our new lives now. Is that okay with you?" Lewis suggested and truly, Nadia's heart swelled a little.

"Can I dress up or will I be judged for that?"

"Anything you want."

The next day.

"Wait. I'm confused. Your PR lady wants to have a meeting with me when? After we launch? Because I'm gonna be really busy with my students tomorrow." Nadia was extremely stressed and rightfully so. After everything happened yesterday, it was time to worry about the logistics of this 'relationship.'

"Tia said she's around London now so maybe you two could meet at a café somewhere in case you're not uncomfortable with her being at your place but she preferred to do it before everything gets crazy." Lewis spoke over the phone. Nadia kept quiet for a few moments as she skimmed over a few facts about Lewis on her laptop. "Wait, you were knighted?" She asked, seeing the photo of Lewis with the badge she recognise as the one that knights usually get. "Are you looking me up right now?" The laugh threatened to come out as he slowed down on the treadmill. "What? I wouldn't." Nadia closed the laptop with speed as if he could see what she was doing.

"Uh huh... anyways, should I forward her number to you or should I make the call?" Lewis pretended as if the biggest smile didn't paint his face at that very moment. "Just send it to me and I'll probs invite her over. We'll talk later then." The two said their goodbyes and went back to whatever it was they were doing.

Placing her phone down next to her on the couch, she sat in silence as it all dawned on her. The man she is legally married to is one of the world's most famous athletes with millions and millions of supporters. Spending almost the whole morning researching anything she needed to know, her chest wanted to close in as she looked at everything from stats from his long ass F1 career to his businesses and social life and they didn't call him the busiest driver for nothing. Lewis never seemed like the type of person to relax and chill from the number of things he does in a day. From Fashion weeks to visiting labs for one of his many projects, it was going to be tough to adjust to his lifestyle whilst still being a full time high school teacher but she was willing to do so, to help a friend.

-

"Again, I'm so sorry for this sudden ambush on you. You're so lovely." Tia apologised once again, making Nadia hold her hand as she shook her head.

The dandelions that Tia brought over were sitting pretty in an empty vase on the living room table, making the room smell so fresh. Tia was definitely a few years younger than Nadia, shown by her enthusiastic energy as soon as she stepped into the apartment.

"So to just get to the gist of it all, you're entering the world of fame without knowing what exactly goes into it. You're gonna need a team, security intel, a refurbished social media look, probably a new bank account and a new address." Tia said, pulling out a notebook from her tote bag. "For now, I'll be your pr manager along with Lewis'. Please just know that this fake marriage idea was a collective decision by the rest of our team because of the scandals that have just been coming our way. I hope I'm not scaring you?"

"Girl, I'm scared as shit right now. What do you mean new address?" Nadia vocalised as her right leg bounced repeatedly. "So in order to make this believable, you'll have to move in with him and we've proposed that you say that you've been secretly married for 2 years. I know that you're going to meet with his friends soon and y'know that date? It has to be tonight because I know you have work tomorrow." Tia flipped her silk press over her shoulder as she placed her hands on the now closed notebook.

Nadia's jaw wanted to drop to the floor but she tried to seem calm as her eyes darted anywhere from Tia.

"So you and I can get ready for this date like we can go shopping, hair and nails then in the evening, he picks you up. How does that sound?" Tia smiled, already packing up her bag.

"Uh-"

"Perfect! Let's go."

-

"Breathe in and out, Nads. In and out." She quietly told herself as she paced up and down her room, the uncomfortable ysl heels clacked against the floor. Constantly checking if the little black dress wasn’t showing anything that didn’t need to shown.

The Cartier box sat perfectly on her dresser, staring at her and waiting to be opened. Eventually gaining the courage to open it, she gently picked up the ring and slid it onto her ring finger, feeling its weight slightly. Lifting her hand to the lamp, she watched as the diamond glistened, matching the charms and rhinestones on her fresh nails.

Even music couldn’t help her calm down as she anxiously waited for Lewis to say that he’s outside, palms becoming clammy at the thought of going on a ‘date’ with someone as famous as Lewis. The research she did on him was one similar to someone entering a fandom as she tried to remember basic information about her husband.

Walking over to her full length mirror, she scanned over her outfit once more and did quick breathing exercises to calm her down. She did a quick smile and walked out of her room, not forgetting her trusty fluffy slides in case she got tired of her heels.

Whilst taking a few pictures, the knock on her door startled her. Rushing to open up, she carried her new purse and touched her hair a little bit as she reached for the door handle.

The smell of roses mixed with the scent of Lewis’ cologne greeted first as the big bouquet of flowers blocked his face.

“Oh wow…” Nadia muttered as she reached to take the sunset orange roses out of his tattooed arms. Securely holding the bouquet, she looked up to observe the man and his look nearly took her breath away. The soft pastel colours of his sweater vest were matching quite well with the lilac slacks he had on, going casual with the air force ones and not to mention the jewellery that somehow emphasised the cozy yet fashionable style he was going for. It genuinely looked like he was going on a date and so did Nadia. His braids were tied back into a low ponytail and his diamond earrings sparkled quite nicely, the wedding ring he bought himself making an appearance as he lifted his hand to scratch his neck a little.

“Well good evening, Mrs.” Lewis greeted with the slyest smile on his face once he realised that Nadia was indeed checking him out. “Don’t give me that smile, Mr.” She rolled her eyes before turning around and placing the flowers in the kitchen. Seeing as she had everything she needed on her, she walked right back to the front door where he was patiently waiting for her. “Let me hold these for you.” He offered, opening his large hands to take her purse and slippers.

“You sure?”

“We’ve got quite a few flights of stairs to get through. Also, where are your neighbours? It seems like such a quiet building.” Lewis asked, curious as he looked at the closed doors they passed in the hallways towards the stairs.

“It’s mainly small families or students who just always mind their business and close themselves in by this time. It only really get noisy during sports weekends and spontaneous fights.” Nadia said, telling him a bit more about her odd neighbours as they eventually reached the same G wagon she saw yesterday.

He could listen to her talk about literally anything for hours, he told himself as he opened the car door for her, placing her stuff next to her. “Just so you know, there’s going to be some media where we’re headed, thanks to Tia so we just walk quickly whilst waving a little then we enter. Is that okay?” He asked, leaning against the open car door and his right arm caged her in a little. As much as she was distracted by how he was looking at her whilst standing like that, she nodded, somehow losing the voice that was there literally there a few minutes before.

-

“I have to compete with Nicki Minaj?!” She whisper-yelled as she leaned closer to him in the private booth that faced the rest of the restaurant. Already, the two had caused quite a stir as soon as they exited the car with the paparazzi rapidly throwing questions at each of them, barely giving them a chance to smile and wave as they planned. The security (both Lewis’ and the restaurants) helped them in and to the customers surprise, they entered in with confidence. Them holding hands really sold for everyone, the two waving to fans using their left hands before being escorted to the private booth.

“Well no you don’t have to anymore. It was just a…thing a few years ago.” Lewis said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back against his chair. “But still! Like your fans literally know you with well known women so what are they even going to do with me?” Rightfully so, Nadia was stressed. This was a big commitment and already she was regretting it.

“I have a feeling that they will love you. As long as you aren’t a complete weirdo then they’ll most likely accept you. Well that’s what someone on Twitter said after hearing about a supposed fling I had with someone.” He assured. He seemed so calm about this and it freaked her out.

“Supposed?”

“Yup. Plus I’m now married to you so everything will swept up under a rug, y’know? Remove any bullshit rumours going on.” He said, sipping his drink once again.

“Again, how are you so calm about this, bruv? Feel like i’m sweating bullets here.” She breathed out, slightly fanning herself even though there was air conditioning in their booth.

“Is that who I am now? Bruv?” He asked, giggling as he looked at her amusingly.

“That is definitely your contact name. Oh! You have to meet my kids, that’s where I get it from.” Nadia spoke, taking a fry from her plate, the food the waiter brought over a while ago.

“Year 8?”

“Nope. Only Year 11 and 12. It was part of the ‘promotion’ but I only studied further to teach Year 8 so right now I’m winging it with my kids and it seems to be going pretty good. They’re excelling.” Nadia chatted, proudly talking about her students.

“You were meant to be a teacher, I swear. The glint in your eyes was so adorable when you spoke about them.” Lewis smiled, also eating his meal.

“Okay, don’t make me blush old man.” She scoffed with a little chuckle making Lewis laugh fully.

“Anyways, where am I gonna live? Tia was very adamant about me moving out to make it look super real.” Nadia changed the subject so quickly, as if it was lightning.

“My main residence is in Monaco but because of what I do, I tend to travel for two months at a time so I’ve got a few houses in another countries. So you can choose where you want to live really. Personally though, I can tell you love your job so this will be a bit tough for you but I get where she’s coming from.” Lewis informed, eating his pesto as if he didn’t just shake up her life a little.

���Oh. I’m gonna have to speak to my higher ups about this. Obvie, I won’t tell them the whole thing but can you give me a week to figure it out? Because it’s also salary that’s no longer gonna be there once I start travelling with you.” Nadia brought up, pinching her leg as thoughts raced through her mind.

“Sure, take as much time as you need because I get that this is a lot. I have a house near Wembley, that’s where I’ve been staying since I arrived so that’s my proposal to you.” He informed, watching her slowly eat her food.

“Well, there wasn’t a proposal to begin with, pookie bear.” Nadia joked, biting down on the fork as she giggled.

“That nickname, Nads.” Lewis giggled at her joke, knowing that she was going to be a joy to be around.

-

nadiahamilton

liked by randomstudent, tia.henderson and 538 others

nadiahamilton 2 years down, a lifetime to go 🤍

tagged: lewishamilton

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randomstudent MISS???? HELLOO???

user oh history is gonna be FUN tmr

lewishamilton my love 💗

nadiahamilton mwah!! 😚

user ma’am you’re joking????? WHAT

nella_rose yo, i leave for a bit and you’re married??? congrats babe omg 😭

user yo miss, what is a 8x world champion doing in your post?

nadiahamilton being my husband :)

randomuser whatever you manifested, GIVE IT

fanpage HE’S MARRIED

15 minutes ago

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, badgalriri and 10,828,929 others

lewishamilton forever and then some with you 🤍

tagged: nadiahamilton

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user NO FUCKING WAY

user well that’s one way to hard launch!

charles_leclerc 😧

lewishamilton 🤣

fencer congratulations on two years brother! 🩷

lewishamilton thank you bro 🫂

nadiahamilton it’s bruv to you 🤨

lewishamilton happy 2 years with my bruv 🫡

nadiahamilton much better 😚

user SHE’S HOT AND FUNNY???? WE’RE SO DOOMED

user and she’s not famous like at all

gigihadid where’s this beautiful woman you’ve been hiding????

nadiahamilton hello Gigi 🤭

gigihadid oh we’re so grabbing lunch soon

user wait so no one knew of her?? not even the drivers ???😭

landonorris MOM?

nadiahamilton hi son?

danielricciardo you don’t just hard launch on us on a random Sunday 😭

lewishamilton oh well, meet my wife! :)

user he really said no more rumours lol

user OMG THATS MY TEACHER HELLO?!

user WHAT

user YEAH THATS MY HISTORY TEACHER

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes? 🥹

mercedesamgf1 boss man says hi and congratulations! 🥳

fanpage noooo you can’t be married ☹️

user girl get a GRIP

badgalriri oh she’s SEXY

lewishamilton ri, pls don’t steal my wife

nadiahamilton TOO LATE

user the next media day is going to have a BLAST when he shows up 😭

10 minutes ago

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting

(if your acc is blank, that means that tumblr didn’t allow me to tag you/show your account)

dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pic creds go to pinterest and insta!

[ghost-n-butteredtoast]

Can you write fem reader x mother Miranda smut

Me: I SURE CAN.

Also me: This might get a bit ... gory.

And though this may not contain as much Mother Miranda as you might have liked, I hope you enjoy it.

So with that... 18+, smut, gore, blood material below.

(Also posted on AO3 - Click here)

Your God Can't Hear You Now

You had prayed to your God until you had fallen asleep, still kneeling at the side of the bed. Your husband's side of the bed, empty. Not that you cared. The nights you slept alone were a blessing. Still, there was much on your mind and a crippling weight on your heart. Feelings that nearly ripped your insides to shreds; the guilt clawing at you constantly.

You did not love your husband. Nor did he love you. You shared gold bands on your ring fingers,  last names, and a bed, but it meant nothing. He lusted after another woman in the village.

...and so did you.

Your husband hated that you refused to worship the Black God, that you did not bow before Mother Miranda and her four lords. He was embarrassed to be seen with you in the village and he despised the looks he received while in church.

"Mother Miranda is a healer, a miracle worker!"

"She is not my God." You whispered.

He shook his head. "You are a disgrace," he said before slamming the door, leaving you to go drown his disappointment in ale at the tavern.

As the clock struck midnight, you woke with a start, its chimes ringing just loud enough to stir you from your position on the floor. Your legs and back ached from kneeling, and you pushed yourself up from the floor and paused. 

A rapping sound?

With an oil lamp in hand, you crept to the front room to look out a window, pulling the curtain aside to see who had come calling at this hour. For a moment, you worried. Had your husband had some sort of accident and someone had been sent to inform you? The moon provided just enough light to allow your eyes to make out the form standing at the front door.

It was a woman. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, your lamp illuminating the stranger's face. Yet it was not a stranger. There, standing before you, was the woman you had secretly pined for. 

Izabela.

Her family had a produce stand at the market. It was there you had first laid eyes on her, selling produce. Cautiously you circled the stand, discreetly watching her as you pretended to shop. Your knees grew weak when she smiled at you, thanking you for your purchase. Every day the stand was open, you went back, not for another parsnip, not for a bundle of carrots; only for her smile, and for that you would pay a hefty sum of lei to see.

"Forgive me for intruding," the woman's voice shook. She looked over her shoulder quickly, then back to you. "May I seek shelter here?" She begged.

From somewhere in the village you both heard a howl. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from exactly. You pulled the woman inside and shut the door quickly, bolting it several times.

"Lycans?" You whispered, moving swiftly to the window to peer into the street.

"I'm not sure." The woman's voice was now calmer. "I saw your light on, it was the only light on in the street. My father's beloved dog bolted from the house and into the night. I gave chase through the streets and lost her near the cemetery." She said, a visible shiver coursing through her. "It was there I heard the first howl, and I turned back."

"You're safe here." You said placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Come away from the door. I'll put the kettle on."

You were able to calm her over a cup of tea. It was now 2:00 am. If your husband was coming home, he would have been here by now. You showed Izabela to the spare room and wished her a good night. Once in your room, you shut and leaned up against the door. You could not believe the woman you had been yearning for was in your home right across the hall. For the past two hours, you had conversed in your small kitchen. The sound of her voice, her smile, her face in the dim light of the oil lamp; everything about her made your heart race and it was only now you felt like you could breathe.

Slowly, you made your way over to your bedside, placing the oil lamp on the table, turning down the wick, and blowing out the flame. As you pushed back the covers you heard the door click. Your mouth went dry when you saw her standing in the doorway. Izabela's long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, the moonlight shining through the window illuminated her white gown.

You swallowed hard. "Is there - there something you need?"

She smiled and came closer to you, gently shaking her head, each step with more and more purpose. "I've seen how you look at me. At the market?"

Your eyes grew wide.

"Always in the market, but never with your husband."

"He-he has other things to tend to-,"

"Such as...church? He is quite devout, isn't he? But I never see you attend." 

You shook your head. "One does not need to set foot in a church to worship." Your hand shot up to the pendant that hung around your neck. Thankfully it was hidden beneath the collar of your gown. "Where one chooses to worship should not matter. God is everywhere."

Izebel tilted her head, considering your words with a low hum. She was so calm and it made your skin prickle. The speed at which her hand grabbed the one upon your chest was shocking. Had you not been backed up against the foot of your bed you surely would have fallen to the ground.

She removed your hand from the pendant around your neck, its gold engravings catching the light of the nearby lantern.

"God," she said almost mechanically. "And this God of yours," she asked, her fingers playing with the pendant, "What does your God think of a woman...a married woman at that... yearning for...the fairer sex?"

Her last words escaped her lips in a near whisper, dangerously close to your own. Air broke free from your lungs in small pants as your eyes began to water, unblinking, from staring into her icy blues.

"I don't-I,-"

Her grip on the pendant tightened and she yanked, the chain snapping and left to dangle in her clutches. You didn't even have a chance to object let alone gasp.

Izabel chucked the necklace across the room and you could hear it slide across the wood floor and disappear into the darkness. "Tonight, there is no God to worship." She said, her hand coming back to your chest as she pressed against you. "Allow me to show you how to properly worship a divine being."

The hand on your chest made haste at unbuttoning your gown. At first, you protested, your mind was scrambling to keep up with the woman before you. Her fingers came back to your shoulders and slid the gown from your body, leaving it to pool around your feet. Izabel's tongue, sweet from the honey she had put in her tea, slipped into your mouth, prodding at the muscle within to respond. You were too stunned to move, eyes locked on her icy blue orbs. It was only when you closed your eyes, that you felt her smile into the kiss, a sinister moan escaping her lips.

She shoved you onto the bed,  knocking the wind out of your lungs and giving you no time to respond to her nails that clawed at your hips as they removed your underwear. And not that you wanted to object; the woman you had secretly craved was now between your legs, nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

But this was wrong and it was happening so fast. Your mind was clouded with lust but your gut was cramped with worry and guilt. Your husband could walk in at any moment. You may not love him, and he was indeed having relations with another woman in the village, but he was a man, he was your husband. You must obey him; respect him.

You looked down at the woman who was now on her knees and caressing your calves. She returned your gaze as if she were waiting for you to object. When no objection came, she immediately pulled you to the edge of the bed with a strength you did not expect and went to work pleasuring you.

The gasp that escaped your lips turned to sinful moans that clawed their way up your throat as your hands gripped the sheets. Izabel wasted no time, latching on to your swollen bud, sucking and moaning while she sunk her nails into your hips. They were unusually sharp, and you hissed when they made contact, your hands shooting to hers to pry them from your body.

Her grasp relaxed, and slowly her hands trailed down your body. You panted and whined as she rose above your womb, her fingers finding you and taking the place of her tongue, sliding through your wet folds, her other hand coming to rest beside you on the bed to keep her balance.

"Mmm," she licked her lips, her mouth and chin glistening with your arousal, "are you this wet when you are in the market, watching me, yearning for me?"

Your eyes went wide as her hand stilled and she stared at you, waiting for an answer.

"I, mmmfuh" was all you were able to eke out as she plunged two fingers inside your warmth.

"Perhaps if you attended church, you'd see me more often." Her tone was perplexing; a mixture of arousal and disdain. She looked down at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, her breath steady yet her hand sped up. "Soaking through your dress, staining the pews with your desire...could you imagine?" 

Feeling your velvet walls begin to close in on her wicked fingers, she pulled out. You screwed your eyes shut and nearly screamed at the loss, but it caught in your throat. She cocked her head and watched you with great fascination. Your body was a limp mess on the bed, glistening with perspiration and quivering with the occasional tremble. 

Suddenly, your voice cracked and rasped out a plea. "Please, Izabel. Ple-," you begged as tears of frustration welled in your eyes.

"Begging, are we?" She whispered. Izabel shifted and leaned forward, placing a hand over your frantic heart. "Perhaps you should pray to Mother Miranda for relief."

"Wha-,"

Your eyes opened and locked with hers. Was she serious? Or was this part of her game? 

"You heard me. Pray. Beg." Her fingertips pressed into your chest. She lowered herself back between your legs, her icy blue eyes never leaving yours for a moment. As her lips hovered over your throbbing core, she whispered, her hot breath mixing with your warmth, "Pray, girl."

You racked your brain for a moment, sputtering out a few words as you tried to remember the prayers from all those years ago; the prayer your parents made you memorize in hopes of keeping you safe from the monsters that ruled over the village, from the beasts that lurked in the woods and attacked without warning. The prayer your husband made you recite on your wedding day. Oh how the words on your tongue burned, but so did you with an all-consuming desire for this woman. 

"Great ones, h-hear our voice, together as one in reverence. We call on thee, ahhh-"

Izabel's tongue shot into your dripping core, exiting, flattening, and slowly trailing up to your clit. Her arm was still stretched across your torso, her fingertips continuing to prod at the tender flesh of your chest.

"...within the endless da-ahhrk to-to-to deliver us into fate's hands."

Her free hand found your pulsing clit, and her tongue returned to your opening, darting in for a taste.

At this point, your chest was heaving and you were gasping for air. Finishing this prayer would be a miracle in itself. She was stealing every bit of focus you had to give, and if you didn't come, you might literally crumble. This woman wanted to wreck you, but you were not sure why she chose to be so malicious about it. She had seemed so pure and kind in the marketplace. But now, now it felt like the devil was between your thighs, and if the devil was a woman, you would gladly go through the gates of hell to burn with her for eternity.

Her touch and her tongue were relentless and your mind was melting, forgetting the words as all you could concentrate on was your climax.

Your volume increased and your speech sped up. "As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end. In life-" you swallowed hard and tore at the sheets below as your orgasm approached, the words were stuck, "I-I-in life!..."

"Finish!" She commanded loudly, barely breaking away from your core.

You came before you could complete the prayer, and as you did, a searing pain joined your ecstasy. The gut-churning sound of tearing flesh and crunching of bone picked up where your last gasp for air had left off as the hand on your chest plunged through your thoracic cavity. Blood filled your mouth as your primitive brain kicked in, your body flooding with a numbing panic in the seconds of consciousness you had remaining.

The taloned hand that literally gripped your heart pulled you into an upright position, just long enough for you to see the woman you had loved from afar, dissipate and morph into the black-winged priestess herself.  She glared at you through her gold mask, her icy blue eyes, the same ones you thought had been Izabel's, burned into yours. You sputtered and choked as blood exploded from between your lips, running down your chin and chest, back into the gaping cavity below. As your body went limp, Miranda chuckled darkly, her hand pulling out of your chest, leaving you to fall back to the mattress. 

She brought the failing organ to her lips, her tongue running over the warm muscle as your blood ran down her arms and into her robe. Turning back to you, she observed the blood seeping into the sheets beneath you.

“Just as I thought,” she snarled, squeezing your heart and letting it fall to the floor with a sickening splat, “an unfit vessel for Eva.”

[deuxcherise]

Collar Crimes: All Bark, No Bite (1/2)

C/w: Unhealthy behavior (?) | Yandere | Female OC | Gender Neutral Reader | Reader is a bit of a… gold digger here (pun intended lol) | Comfort (?) | Fluff (?) | Slight Angst (near the end)| Swearing | Includes a cute pic of a Golden Retriever x German Shepherd mix dog for reference

A/n: So a long time ago, before reader met Eris, reader met a certain dog~ Hint, hint: she was mentioned in the last chapter (can I call it a chapter? It was in part 2). It’s not the bartender, by the way. So this is going to be a two parter because it got too long. Huh… Is it just me or are these getting longer and longer? Even the animal is getting bigger lol. Enjoy~

Masterlist | Part 0, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (1/2) (you’re here!), Part 3 (2/2)

[Seven years ago…]

“Hiiiii~ Welcome to Petal Blush Cafe, dear guest. We’re so happy-happy to see you~”

“Oh, what do we have here? I heard a lot of great things about you. Come give Papa a big ol’ smile, why don’t cha?”

You keep your ever present resting blank face on, place your index fingers together in front of your mouth and drag them apart in an upward curve. You throw in a tilt of your head, as a bonus.

He throws his head back in ecstasy. “AHHH! So it’s true what they say. I feel so refreshed. Papa’s got an appetite for some sandwiches… unless you’re on the menu today?”

“Oh my~ You flatter me~ But unfortunately, nooooo sir~” you say with a high-pitched cutesy voice that heavily contrasts your stiff-robot face, fanning yourself for show.

You’ve always hated these kinds of customers– actually you really hated this job in general. Not only were you forced to wear a ridiculously, scandalously short pink waitress dress uniform regardless of your gender, but you had to listen to yourself talk with an ear-gratingly high-pitched tone because that’s what sells the performance here.

It’s not like you can just leave, as much as you wanted to. Where else would they pay you enough to make rent? Besides, with who runs this cafe, do you think you’d be able to leave scot-free? No.

Ah… if only someone with a lot of money could just… sweep you off your feet. Someone kind. Someone considerate. Someone polite.

Pff. Like that’s ever going to happen.

You take his usual order on your paper notepad. As you leave, you feel something heavy slap against your behind, the action sending a jolt through the rest of your body. You glance behind you and see him don a sleazy smirk, which further adds to your disgust and increasing resentment for this place and this man, as you pick up the pace to hand over the order to the chef. You slam the paper down onto the counter with a little more force than expected, warranting Remy’s attention.

“Which table?” he nonchalantly asks, cracking a couple of eggs onto the pan.

Somehow, despite wearing the same outfit as you, he maintains an extremely powerful look with his exposed bulging muscles and trimmed beard held by his hairnet. You envy the man.

“Table 13,” you grumble.

“Special sauce?”

“Special sauce.”

“Got it.”

The bell rings and in comes a trio of brothers in fancy suits, three of your most loyal customers, along with an unfamiliar face. Upon their request, the hostess leads them to a table in your section. You grab four menus before walking over and greeting them as usual.

“Hiiiii~ Welcome back to Petal Blush Cafe, dear guests. We’re so happy-happy to see you~” you say, with your iconic blank face.

The three men roar with delight. The lady with them, wearing the same kind of suit, simply pinches and pulls at her sleeve as she keeps her face downcast. One of the brothers turns to the lady with them while pointing at you. “Hey, Sis. Whatcha think of (Y/n), huh? That straight face and cute voice– combo’s real nice, ain’t it?”

“O-oh… um…” The woman makes eye contact with you for a split second before she looks away, a blush appearing on her face. She nods animatedly, releasing another roar from the men, much to your confusion.

“Oh right! (Y/n). You already know the three of us: Dante, Vergil and Nero. This,” Dante says, placing an arm around the lady’s shoulders, “is our baby sister, Lyn. She may look shy right now, but put a weapon in her hand and–” He whistles before chuckling.

“Ah. Happy-happy to have you, Lyn~” you say, cutely wiggling your fingers.

“... T-thank you… (Y/n).”

“Good girl,” one of the brothers sitting across pats her on the head. She reminds you of a golden retriever, with her blond hair and gentle, round eyes.

“Yay~ Now, what will it be today~?” you ask, clicking your pen.

They order some sandwiches and some drinks. You place the order in exchange for picking up the order for that sleazy customer who calls himself Papa. You and Remy exchange knowing looks before you deliver the food.

“Oooh. This looks delicious. Thank you very much, sweetheart.”

You nod and start walking away, before your arm is grabbed by a meaty hand. You turn your head around to see the man grinning at you maliciously. 

“Now, wait a gosh darn second. I heard that this establishment offers a… special service. Now… you aren’t holding off on me, are ya?”

You rip your arm out of his grasp, used to being grabbed by unscrupulous individuals like this man. You answer, “Oh~ The special service~ Sorry, hon~ That’s a privilege only reserved for customers who have dined here more than ten times~ Since you’ve come here once, that means you’ll have to come back nine more times.”

The special service in question refers to asking any server to sing the cafe’s jingle and perform a cutesy dance for the customer asking. Everyone who works here must learn this song and dance before they can be placed on the floor. Each server adds their own twist to it, of course, thus providing a unique experience.

The man slams a fist on the table and stands up, his face red with anger. “WHAT? I CANCELLED AN IMPORTANT MEETING FOR THIS. NOW IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME THE SPECIAL SERVICE, I AM GOING TO–”

Click!

Both your heads turn to the side to discover Lyn pointing a loaded revolver with one hand just a feet away, aimed directly for the man’s skull. Her eyes are sharp and narrowed, unlike the gentle, round ones you were introduced to earlier.

She raises her eyebrows. “Is there a problem here, sir?”

“D-do… do you know who you’re pointing that gun at, lady?” the man stutters, sweating beading up on his forehead.

Lyn shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“O-of course it does! Shoot me and you’ll have the West Razors going after you and your entire family.”

She raises an eyebrow. “... Never heard of them before.”

“What? Who are you then, huh bitch? Some don’s lady?”

She scoffs to the side. Her eyes widen, pupils contracting, as she cocked her head with a smirk. “Lyn Aurem-Diavolus. Of the May Devils.”

The man gasps and immediately lowers his knees, Lyn’s gun following. The man clasps his hands together in a prayer as he begs for his life. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know! Please forgive me! I didn’t know this server was your lover!”

…Who? Is what now?

Lyn’s eyes soften back to their round shape, her face darkening to a red hue as she stutters, “E-eh?”

“That’s right!” Dante pipes up with a smirk, coming behind Lyn, followed by the other two brothers. “Mess with (Y/n) again, and we’ll send you straight down to hell, capisce?” He gives the man a thumbs down with a frown. “Now scram.”who want to get on the bad side of the May Devils. The less competition, the better anyway.

Lyn replaces the safety lock before she puts it back into a hidden holster. She bashfully asks you, “Are you okay… (Y/n)?”

You nod and give a thumbs up. “Yeah. Thank you, Lyn~”

“N-no, well I mean yes, that too. But what I meant was–”

“Ooh, free sandwiches,” says Dante. “Don’t mind if I do–”

You throw a hand out. “No, wait!”

-----🔔-----

Ever since the brothers introduced you to Lyn, she has been visiting the cafe every day you’re scheduled to work for months now. Sometimes she comes with the brothers, sometimes by herself if they’re too busy dealing with… probably mafia stuff.

“Hiiiii~ Welcome to Petal Blush Cafe, dear guest. We’re so happy-happy to see you~”

“H-hi… (Y/n).”

At this point, there is no need to provide her with a menu anymore. She always orders a peanut butter milkshake and a plate of chocolate cake. Somehow, aside from the extreme sweet tooth she possesses, you always feel weird about giving her the chocolate cake. She’s definitely human but… she really does remind you of a very shy golden retriever… with perhaps a German shepherd side to her.

“Okay~ Here is your milkshake and your cake. Will there be anything else you’d like today, Lyn-Lyn~?”

You expect her to say no as per usual, but this time it seems she has something on her mind. Based on the way her face has turned red and her eyes look like they’re panicking.

“O-oh! U-um… (Y/n)?”

“Yes, Lyn-Lyn?”

“Do you… what time do you get off work? D-do you have time after work?”

That catches you off guard. “Why~?”

“UH… UM… I… I-I have something… to tell you! Come meet me behind the cafe.”

“Oh… kay. Okay~” you answer.

-----🔔-----

“Alright. Good job, everyone! Have a safe trip going home!”

“Yeah!” “Thank you! “Yes!” “Uh-huh.” “See ya!”

The day has ended and all of the customers have left. Your boss leaves first, but you and your coworkers stick around and begin making conversation.

“Oooh, you gonna go meet lover girl in the back, (Y/n)?”

You roll your eyes at a coworker’s words. “Ha ha. Real funny.”

“What does she wanna talk about anyway?”

You shrug, closing your locker. “Beats me.”

“Ooh, do you think she’s going to confess?”

You scoff. “No. Where’d you get that idea from?”

Your coworkers exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

Ever since that day when the don of the West Sharpies or something assumed you were Lyn’s lover, your coworkers have never let you live it down, especially with Lyn’s daily visits. She is… kind, considerate, polite, and she was pretty hot when she defended you back then. However! You do not have such a relationship with her, nor any kind of feelings like that.

You’re the last one to leave, the only one to leave through the back door to meet with Lyn. You see her leaning against the wall, dressed in her suit as always. The moment she spots you, she blushes again. She has never seen you in civilian clothes before, but you look so… beautiful. More so without the pink outfit.

“Sorry, did I keep you waiting?” you ask in your regular voice, out of character. Your face is still stiff though.

“O-oh, not at all, not at all. Um, here.”

She manifests a flower bouquet from behind for you. You take the bouquet, entranced by the largeness of it and how beautiful the colorful flowers look in the alleyway’s streetlight. When your eyes finally break away from the flowers, you find Lyn kneeling down on one knee and looking up at you with a very serious expression.

“Lyn?”

”(Y/n). Over these past several months,” she starts off, “I have been trying to figure out my feelings. I’ve thought about it over and over, tries to rationalize it as… as just infatuation, but… I know what’s in my heart. And I’ve finally come to a conclusion. Ever since I first met you, you have… captured my heart. I am in love with you, (Y/n).”

…..

You stare at her with wide eyes. “Huh?”

She clears her throat and starts glancing between you and the surroundings, embarrassed. “I-I know you may not feel the same. My brothers… and everyone else have told me already. And it’s not like I’ve really done anything to win your affection…” She mumbles something in between before continuing. “But if you give me the chance, I can show you what I’m capable of. As your potential girlfriend.”

She holds out a hand to you. “Will you… go out with me?”

“I…”

Do you want to try going out on a date with one of the May Devils, the youngest one too? You didn’t have any prior romantic feelings for the girl, which makes you feel bad. What if you never develop any feelings for her? What if she stops showing up to the cafe? What if you accidentally do something that triggers the entire famiglia after you?

In the midst of your thoughts, something dark emerges from you. A devil. It sits on your shoulder and whispers into your ear, “What if this is your chance to get out of here? She has money. You need money. It’s a match made in… well, ya know?”

…..

You smile, an expression Lyn hasn’t seen before but is entranced by, as you place your hand onto hers.

“I would love to.”

-----🔔-----

You hadn't expected to enjoy going out on dates with her, but you were sure glad that you said yes.

“(Y/n)! Look what I got for you!” Lyn excitedly says, holding a neatly wrapped box for you over your shoulder.

“Another one?” you chuckle, accepting the gift as she hugs you from behind and nuzzles the back of your neck. “Designer clothes. Designer bags. Luxuries cars. Lyn-Lyn, you're spoiling me too much. You're going to go bankrupt!”

She shakes her head, her hair tickles the back of your neck. “Mm mm mm mm. You're not being spoiled! You're being pampered! By me. Your loving, romantic girlfriend. Who regards you dearly very, very much! Forget about the money. Just let me enjoy spending it on you.”

You giggle and place a hand on her cheek, turning your head so you can share a kiss with her. Of course, Lyn starts planting lots of kisses on your face afterwards, like the lovely puppy she is.

You both fall into bed, full of laughter and joy until you both settle down to cuddle with each other. With your fingers interlocked with hers, Lyn gazes into yours with so much adoration, it makes you shy. You turn away and hide your face against the pillow.

“(Y/n), look at me,” she whispers.

You refuse, for a moment, but you make eye contact. You both gaze into each other's eyes, lovingly, until Lyn breaks the silence.

“I love you, (Y/n).

It makes you freeze, hearing those three words fall from her mouth for the first time in your relationship.

What shocks you more is that…

Well…

The thing is… normally… 

You're… supposed to say it back, right?

You open your mouth but not a single noise leaves it. You avert your eyes in shame, biting your lip.

Why can't you say it? After all she's done for you so far?

…..

“I-It's okay, (Y/n),” Lyn suddenly says, making you look at her. Her eyes and voice are filled with sadness. “I know… that it takes time for a person to develop feelings for someone. I mean, it took time for me to realize my feelings too, and… I did ask you out knowing that you might not… reciprocate my feelings. At least not yet. That's why people date, right? To get to know each other and hopefully fall in love. So… I'll wait for you. Besides, we’ve only dated for a month, right? I’ll do my best to make you fall in love with me. Okay? Prepare yourself~”

You nod, happy that Lyn still wants to be with you even if you can't say those three words back to her yet.

-----🔔-----

“Who are you talking to?”

You look up from your phone. “Oh! One of my old coworkers. He was just asking how I'm doing now since I've left the cafe. Thanks to you,” you answer, with a playful smile.

Lyn’s face doesn't share your expression. “Oh. Okay.”

You pout, wondering what's going on with Lyn lately. She'd catch you on the phone, ask you who you're talking to, and then ignore you until she finds something else to ask.

You crawl towards her on the bed and ask, “Lyn, I know you're upset. Do you want to talk about it?”

Lyn looks at you, looks away, and then looks back at you again before she leans forward and catches your lips with a kiss. She pushes you down onto the bed before releasing you from her lips and just looks at you.

Her eyes move from your eyes to your lips to your exposed collarbone before going back up to your eyes. She sighs before laying her entire weight on you, her head nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Lyn?”

“I love you, (Y/n)... Do you love me?”

“I…” Your voice catches in your throat for nth time.

You feel her breath as she sighs. “I know.”

Tears start to fill up your eyes out of frustration. “I'm sorry…”

She pops back on her elbows, worried. “Oh no, it's okay. Shh shh. It's okay. (Y/n). My (Y/n). I'm sorry,” she coos, caressing your cheek and wiping your tears.

For some reason, no matter what she did, nothing could spark you to say those three damned words back to her. It isn't your fault but…

It is starting to drive her insane.

[moonlit-trolls]

Restless Child

[Posting the docs for ease of acess]

You? Who are you? A red blood with no power to call their own. With a life harder than most. You dodged the bullet of joining the cult to the owl god. but you stand in front of a congregation of purples led by a man who bears no colors.

In front of giants. Who look at you as if you were food for the taking. Something they should pick out from their teeth and look with disgust, you ask. voice trembling.

— Father, They stand there. wishing to devour me and my kind. Why should I join your congregation? —

The man stands atop heightened ground, behind a pulpit. As you notice, he leaves this position of power, of height to stand with you on the same level.

— Child of grief. You had a troubled life. The folk in my congregation bow to my word. I say Kneel — And as the words leave his lips. you see the bloodthirsty clowns taking two knees and bowing — And they do. — as he speaks, a hand lands on your shoulder, it feels cold and yet gentle. — Child of Grief. Be not anxious for what is to come. Sit with us, Enjoy this day for what it has to offer. Let the troubles of tomorrow be then. — 

His smile is sweet and inviting. behind the veil. The sharp teeth he hides seem. rounded from where you are. as you kneel to his command, the fear and anxieties leave your body. as the Subjuggulators hold their stare. it feels welcoming in a way you have never seen.

But you are not of this world are you? Restless child you are a thief, a crook, someone with nowhere to be and nowhere to go back to. Restless child born in the wild you are a dog to the wolves. and a deer to the stags. You are a child of the world that never cared for you, and thus, you must not care for it. Churches have, from your knowledge always had one thing, Gold. and gold sells.

In the dead of the day, shining as bright as when you saw it for the first time, You run by the shades, near the walls and climb through the window into the hall of promise of the clergy of butterflies. The smell of flowers stings your nose. it is pleasant in an unpleasant way. and… you see him, kneeling behind the holy symbol of the moon.

— Child of Grief? — His voice speaks in no surprise. as you are taken aback — Come to say goodbye before leaving? — As the man stands you notice he commands more presence than you first thought. He is not tall by any metric, nor is his frame impressive. But his location with the moon behind him, as the lights shine through the stained glass windows you look, and you see his eyes, Stained fury red but his voice does not change

— L-look… i, i, have- haven’t been totally honest. i. look, i’m just trying to get out of here okay… I thought I could get some cash before dipping… — You didn’t mean to speak those words, truth as they may be they are not yours. but, you feel sorry for having said them. 

— I understand. I cannot say I condone, but I understand. Go then, steal from me, take what you need, it will not be theft, consider a gift from the congregation. — He smiled through the veil, and that felt scarier than anything he had done before. You are too frightened to speak any words, but out they come the same. your thoughts come out in soliloquy 

— Listen. I’m Scared, okay. you have people that would kill me for, existing in the wrong spot, at least two dozen of em — You cover your mouth, but you feel as if he kept listening to them. nodding in acknowledgment

— I understand your woes child, But were you to love only those who love you back. What would be the credit in that? Your fear is not unfounded. And I shall not fight you for your stay. Leave with what you acquired. or stay. — as the words left his mouth he extended a hand towards you. offering a light out of the life you had lived.

Alarm bells ring true in your mind. as you grab all and run away from there. you can’t stay, child of the wild, you are not for this place.

Your mind races as you run. Where are you going? who 's out there? but the questions that do not stick are why is the sun not killing you? When you look up it is hitting you  and hurting. but. not enough to stop your racing. the blush on your face does not tone red. It tones jade. To the vision of all who are not you, You are a daywalker. racing through the sunlight with enough money to feed yourself for a year. 

The man who you just stole from did this, And, he did not care that you stole from him. He did not care who you were when you entered. and he actively helped you leave. Is this man really the evil the people say he is?

well. That is not a question for you to answer Restless child

[ceilimoose]

"Jack and the Beanstalk" (part 1)

"Jack's mother said, 'We're stony broke! 'Go out and find some wealthy bloke 'Who'll buy our cow. Just say she's sound 'And worth at least a hundred pound. 'But don't you dare to let him know 'That she's as old as billy-o.' Jack led the old brown cow away, And came back later in the day, And said, 'Oh mumsie dear, guess what 'Your clever little boy has got. 'I got, I really don't know how, 'A super trade-in for our cow.' The mother said, 'You little creep, 'I'll bet you sold her much too cheap.' When Jack produced one lousy bean, His startled mother, turning green, Leaped high up in the air and cried, 'I'm absolutely stupefied! 'You crazy boy! D'you really mean 'You sold our Daisy for a bean?' She snatched the bean. She yelled, 'You chump!' And flung it on the rubbish-dump. Then summoning up all her power, She beat the boy for half an hour, Using (and nothing could be meaner) The handle of a vacuum-cleaner. At ten p.m. or thereabout, The little bean began to sprout. By morning it had grown so tall You couldn't see the top at all. Young Jack cried, 'Mum, admit it now! 'It's better than a rotten cow!' The mother said, 'You lunatic! 'Where are the beans that I can pick? 'There's not one bean! It's bare as bare!' 'No no!' cried Jack. 'You look up there! 'Look very high and you'll behold 'Each single leaf is solid gold!' By gollikins, the boy was right! Now, glistening in the morning light, The mother actually perceives A mass of lovely golden leaves! She yells out loud, 'My sainted souls! 'I'll sell the Mini, buy a Rolls! 'Don't stand and gape, you little clot! 'Get up there quick and grab the lot!' Jack was nimble, Jack was keen. He scrambled up the mighty bean. Up up he went without a stop, But just as he was near the top, A ghastly frightening thing occurred-- Not far above his head he heard A big deep voice, a rumbling thing That made the very heavens ring. It shouted loud, 'FEE FI FO FUM 'I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ENGLISHMAN!' Jack was frightened, Jack was quick, And down he climbed in half a tick. 'Oh mum!' he gasped. 'Believe you me 'There's something nasty up our tree! 'I saw him, mum! My gizzard froze! 'A Giant with a clever nose!' 'A clever nose!' his mother hissed. 'You must be going round the twist!' 'He smelled me out, I swear it, mum! 'He said he smelled an Englishman!' The mother said, 'And well he might! 'I've told you every single night 'To take a bath because you smell, 'But would you do it? Would you hell! 'You even make your mother shrink 'Because of your unholy stink!' Jack answered, 'Well, if you're so clean 'Why don't you climb the crazy bean.' The mother cried, 'By gad, I will! 'There's life within the old dog still!' She hitched her skirts above her knee And disappeared right up the tree." (part 2 coming in just a sec. tumblr wouldn't let me post the whole thing in one go)

[taintedevesayori]

Sayo's Route: Dark Fate - Dark 03

Sayo's Route Masterlist

-Sayo and Yui are sitting together on the balcony of Sayo’s room

Yui: Sayo, that ring…

Sayo: Oh, this?

-She holds out her hand to Yui. The gold ring Kou had given her was still on her finger. She rarely took it off

Yui: It’s so pretty…

Sayo: Yeah, it is….Kou gave it to me. That seems like forever ago now…

Yui: He did? That’s so cute…He must love you very much. 

Sayo: Yeah…

-She smiles sadly

Sayo: I wish I could see him…I miss him…

Yui: Don’t worry! I’m sure they’re looking for us! If we don’t escape on our own, they’ll find us and rescue us!

Sayo: You’re right. I can’t be negative in this situation. You’re always so good at looking on the bright side of things. 

Yui: I don’t know about that…

Sayo: Fufu…Don’t sell yourself short. 

-Carla enters Sayo’s room. His eyes lock on Yui

Carla: There you are. 

-Sayo resisted the urge to sigh as Yui stiffened

(I feel like our time together is always interrupted by him or Shin…)

Carla: Hurry up and come along. 

Yui: R-Right. Goodbye, Sayo…

Sayo: See you later…

-Sayo finally sighs when they leave as she leans against the railing

Sayo: Poor Yui…Carla seems like such a hardass….

*Timeskip*

-Sayo is sitting on her bed, reading a book later on when Shin enters her room. His eyes wander to her hand as he recalls the conversation he had heard between the two girls earlier. He walks over to the bed, sitting on the side of it. Sayo didn’t bother looking up at him

Sayo: Normally people say hello or something when they come into a room. 

Shin: Normally people put down what they’re doing when someone comes in to see them. 

Sayo: Touche. 

-She finally places a bookmark and puts her book down before looking up at him

Sayo: What is it?

Shin: You think I’m here for something specific?

Sayo: Aren’t you? 

Shin: …Your ring. That guy gave it to you, didn’t he?

-She tries to stop herself from showing any emotion, but he can still see a bit of panic in her eyes

Sayo: What gave you that idea?

Shin: I heard you and Yui talking about it. 

-She scoots away, becoming defensive

Sayo: …So what? Don’t touch it. Don’t even come near me.

Shin: Give it to me. 

Sayo: No way! Get the hell away from me, Shin!

-She tries to jump off the bed to get away, but he grabs her before she can. He grabs her hand, tearing the ring off her finger

Sayo: You’re a real bastard, ya know that?!

Shin: Heh…If you want a ring, I’ll give you one to replace it. 

-He leans down, biting the finger her ring was on

Sayo: Ow! Stop it!

-She tries to squirm but knows she’ll only make the pain in her finger worse if she yanks her hand away. Eventually, he lets her go

Shin: Disgusting, as usual…

Sayo: If it’s so disgusting, stop drinking it!

Shin: Don’t play dumb. You know I need to cleanse your blood for our plan to work. 

Sayo: Hmph…If I promise not to wear it, will you give me my ring back?

Shin: Not a chance. Since you want it so badly, I’ll remark you when the bite around your finger heals, hm?

Sayo: I don’t want it from you! 

-He glares at her, pinning her under him

Shin: So it’s fine if it’s from your pathetic vampire boyfriend but not me? You should really be careful about not pissing me off…! I might kill you again by accident. 

-Before she could come up with a retort, he buried his fangs in her throat

Sayo: Guh…!

Shin: Nn…Honestly…to think you would rather have someone so far beneath me…haah…pisses me off…phew…

-Sayo felt a bit lightheaded by the time Shin got off her. All he did was glare once more before leaving the room. She lifted her hand, staring at the red bite mark that now replaced where her ring once was. She grit her teeth, resisting the urge to cry as she let her hand fall back down to the bed

[simaddix]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

Thank you for tagging me @treason-and-plot! I rarely do these but I'll indulge(:

Are you named after anyone? Yes. But we're gonna leave that alone.

When was the last time you cried? A couple of weekends ago, our favorite duck got picked up by an owl and the shithead dropped her by the pond near our house. I looked like I'd gone a full round in the ring when I was done. Nature is beautiful but can be cruel, too.

Do you have kids? Yes, we have a 7 year old boy and a 3 year old little girl. They're my world(:

Do you use sarcasm a lot? It's a large part of my personality in most cases, lol

What sports do you play/have you played? I was a swimmer, loved riding horses and had a brief stint in boxing/self defense.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Their eyes. People don't realize how much they say through their eyes without speaking a word. Second is stature/handshake. A good handshake can say a lot about you, too.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings - I'm not a fan of horror. I've had horror in my life, I don't care to relive the feeling on a screen. I do like psychology, though, so I'm more inclined to watch a run on serial killers rather than a fictional story that's meant to simply scare you.

Any special talents? I have a deep joy in feeding people - my baking skills are subpar (I once made a loaf of bread that could have been used as a murder weapon, but that's another story lol) but I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen. Design / I've found that I really love design and bringing something new out of the old. If I may be so bold, 3D design. I love this field and thoroughly enjoy creating aspects for digital creations that people can use to create realistic atmospheres.

Where were you born? Texas.

What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, history. Painting, 3D design, architectural design. Gardening (rudimentary at best, but it's therapeutic), caring and working with animals - especially horses. I also like nature, hiking, snowboarding (though it's been years), and wakeboarding - spending time at the lake. Also, exploring architectural sites/archives/museums.

Do you have any pets? Yes, though our situation has changed drastically over the last year. We still have our old man, Lance - who is a 9 year old shepherd mix. We lost Ellie, our hound last year of Cancer. And we had to sell the rest of our ducks as we will be moving later this year.

How Tall Are You: 5'4''

Fave subject in school? English/History.

Dream job? 3D world design.

Eye colour? Gold.

I would like to tag - @murfeelee @omedapixel @nonsimsical @modestpixels @desiree-uk @technicallyswagpizza @katsujiiccfinds @dhalsims @danjaley @bbcopperdaisy @silvakristiina (Sorry if y'all have already done one - or have zero interest!)

[remiswritting]

Omg, uh hi! I’m Remi. Here is some writing i do. Perhaps it will get love here. But mwa! Enjoy this is some background on my Tav Lucian!

———

Laughter filled the air, children yelling in glee as Lucian hung upside down on an aerial hoop. Her twin not so far juggling showing other kids how to do.

After leaving their parents home they had joined a near by circus it was more for fun than income. They were flexable and a treat to see with their design. Besides a Drow above ground? Some people paid to see such a thing.

Twirling about round and round Lucian went. It was the most fun the Drow could feel. Nothing holding her down. Bringing awe to people the best feeling one could have. Her hair pinned up into twin buns with braids going down her hair. Making sure the pink and blue could be seen. The best part was playing music to the crowd. Her talent was different. Playing the flute upside down as those near by listen. Most would call her a bard, but fighting was not her desire. No she wish to bring joy and love to those. This was her dream. To bring laughter and joy to those who needed it most. But as the circus closed and her brother helped her down he smiled.

“Lucian, there was a man staring at you! Perhaps you have a lover?” Christopher asked as Lucian laughed.

“Me a lover? My love is to the circus my brother! To the children we bring smiles to!” Pulling the corner of her lips up to show the brightest smile she could give.

“You are such a tease my sister, but what if he is a potential lover? Hm? Imagine you! Married!” He said excited.

“And what of you? I’ve seen you talking to that female elf every day now. Is that woman planning to marry you?”

Oh how the male Drows face turned dark. “Nonsense. Adaine is nothing but a friend.”

“A friend whom you name so casually. Someones in loooove~” she sang laughing cheerfully before she saw their ring master. Both bowed with grace. The man had never stird them wrong.

Well not till now.

“Lucian, i have the most wonderful news for you!” The man said “you have been sold off!”

The ones high happiness Lucian had suddenly- dropped.

“W-what?” She asked stuttering. “Sold off? W-wait. I didn’t agree to be sold! I am

Not property sir! Did i do something!? Besides my home is here! In the circus! Preforming for the child-“

“No more Lucian. Pack your things, your future husband awaits you at your room.” The man said as Christopher was in shock. Both the twins looked dumbfounded.

“If you sell her i quit, i will not stay here without my other half!”

“You sir are also being sold. Someone came from Cazadors castle they paid high money for you, so as of today you will be leaving with them. A female waits for you at your room. Now both of you go on. Gold was up front so- i can’t change my choice.”

Sold- both her and her brother sold. Her heart ached it felt- broken. THIS was her home, THESE were her people. But yet the Ring Masters words were finale. Fighting him meant nothing. Even when he walked away her brother took her hand.

“Let us leave. Right now. God knows what may happen to us it we go with them. Come Lucian!” He was pulling her hand, pulling her along to the entrance.

Towards what could be their last chance at freedom. Yet Lucian was grabbed, held back by a guard.

“Lucian!” Christopher yelled as he to was pulled back.

“Christopher! Let me go! No! I don’t want to go with that man!” Lucian pleaded yet nothing could be done. Two twins torn apart, Christopher swearing he find her and save her.

Yet with little hope to believe, Lucian was transported far from where they were. All the way to Baldurs gates, to the lower city where she was thrown in front of a man. He smiled, he had black hair slicked back, pure blue eyes. The Drow woman hated him. It was he who tore her from her other half.

“Ah my love, its so-“

“I am not your love! I do not love you! I did not agree to this, to be- taken away from my only family!” It was not often Lucian yelled, but her eyes said it all. She had hatred for this man- this- elf.

“I see. Tch. We could of done this easy…” he mumbled, moving his hand till it took a handful of her pink and blue locks. Pulling her head back. Tears falling down the womans face.

“Now listen to me… you are to be my wife, my name is Felix Rowan, and you are my future wife and the mother who will bear the ripe of my children.”

“I refuse!” Lucian yelled being thrown to the ground. Trying to crawl away only for her hand to be stepped on. Another cry in pain.

“You’ll come to love me. For i am the one who will give you 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 you could desire. Now go change from this horrifying circus clothing. Something more proper for a woman.” Felix demanded. Motioning to the stairs above.

Lucian had no choice to obey. Fear flooding her mind. Rushing up the stairs stumbling, had the windows not been bar and locked she would of escaped. But nothing was of use. Nothing could save her from this. No begged, no pleading. Crying quietly in fear that if Felix heard, things woudl be worse. But they did, days went by, months to even two years. Lucian had given up hope. She had learned Cazadors castle was in the city. Yet strictly forbidden to enter. If thats where her brother was held- she could only imagine what he was going through- if he was even alive. It was rumored most who entered- never left. So she had little hope Christopher left or survived. But part of her held on. Wearing her locket that held a photo of him. She hide it every time Felix got close. Getting sticky fingers and stealing food just to survive as Felix punished her through starvation.

But the one day she returned home. After years of constant abuse, constant harm she found another woman in her ‘supposed’ husband arms. With a demon like woman standing holding whay seemed to be a contract that Felix willingly signed.

“There the Drow woman is all yours.” Felix said as he looked at Lucian. “Don’t be so gloom. You were useless to me anyways. You don’t even sing anymore, like a bird dying in its cage. God how worthless must you be. But would should i have expected your a 𝑫𝒓𝒐𝒘. They only care for themself enslaving children and goblins.”

Lucian couldn’t take it anymore. The abuse the torment. For even sometime she did love Felix. He was her husband she had to. But now it was all pure black hate. A dagger in hand as she rushed him. Only to be forced back as if on a chain.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Now, thats no way to say goodbye.” The female said chuckling. Yet Lucian didn’t stop. Yelling, screaming, cursing Felix to throwing the dagger. To Felix it missed, to the woman in his arms? A bloody hit to the face. An instant death at least for her mercy.

“CURSE YOU.” Lucian yelled crying as the demonic woman slowly walked towards her.

“Curse you! My life is mine! I do not get to be sold to anyone! It is not anyones life BUT MINE!” She screamed as the demon bent down.

“Sh sh. You belong to me now- for only some time then you will be free once more. Most call me Mizora, you may call me Lady Mizora.” She said laughing softly before dragging them both to the hells.

Lucian was in shock. Her own life, sold again and again. Was this to be her life? Sold to one person after another? Tears streamed as she screamed in her cell.

Holding her head in nothing but agony. She hated 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 swearing revenge on Felix, on her Ring Master. Everyone who pushed her around like some doll with a string.

“Hey… ease up soldier.” A soft voice as Lucian looked up. Seeing a Tiefling. She had a broken horn a flaming body. Literally.

“You were sold off too against your will huh..? I.. feel your pain.” She admitted “names Karlach. I promise you, if theres a way we both can be free.. before your contract ends that is.. i will help you out, as long as you help me cool?”

Lucian stared. How could she trust anyone? But then again- what else did the woman have to lose. Through her teary eyes, her bruised skin. She reached a hand out.

“L-Lucian.. Lucian Wilde.” Refusing to use her ‘husbands’ last name. “I just want to return to my circus. To my twin brother Christopher.” She whimpered. Only for Mizora to shoo Karlach away.

“Run along Karlach. This one is my toy. You have a job don’t you? Mine is to train this one to be my personal little.. thief..” she said smirking.

It was nothing but brutal training. At least for the first few months. Training how to fight, how to steal properly and not get caught. Even new clothing, the only good part was Mizora let her keep her locket. It was the only thing Mizora let her keep. Job after job. Stealing from ether a group of people, or stealing a certain object. No one was safe from Lucians hands. Her mind slowly being shapped- tormented. She no longer feared anyone. No longer accepted failure. If she ended up in jail- she broke out. A wanted criminal in every part she could go. Even going on a mission with a fellow person under Mizora. A man named Wyll. She found his humor interesting. A bard himself or perhaps a man who liked music and dancing as mucu as she did. Yet she didn’t share much of herself. Perhaps because her memory was constantly being erased. Her contract constantly being reset with Mizora not wanting to let Lucian go.

Lucian believed her, she didn’t know what day it was, the time, nothing. Yet she only could hope the next day led to her freedom.

[goldjewellerybuyeringurgaon]

Cash for silver and gold

The foremost way to get cash for silver and gold is by coming to our shop. Here we are giving up to 4% extra bonus on final payment of ornaments made up of gold, silver and diamond.

[madmarchhare]

When the Times Change Chapter 5

This is the fifth chapter of my post-apocalyptic novel. I hope you all enjoy it :3.

Hoodoo: ‘You doo, I doo, we all doo’

     I was awoken by the rays of the sunrise poking at the side of my face through the bullet ridden roof. I sat up quickly, my hair flopping messily over my eyes, turning everything gold for a moment. I pushed it mostly into place then looked about the horizon. We were heading west I gathered. The pair sat in the front in silence, the old radio sending out a low song, its accompaniment the rush of hiss and crackle from the radio itself. I dealt with my morning affair then looked out to the horizon. The chances of escape were quite low out here, open plains, clear sightlines bar from a few rolling hills, and near every step being like a dinner bell to opportunistic monsters.

So, for a time at least, I will be under their watch, my practices unfortunately strangled by their failed morals of freedom, justice et-cetera. As I sunk in my thoughts, devising some plans for what business I could actually do, or how I could contact some associates, Rock suddenly snored himself awake in the passenger seat. “Good morning,” he murmured tiredly, yawning loudly as he spoke, stretching in his seat till his back popped loudly, smacking his lips together. “I guess the hyena is a late riser, huh Lil’?” chuckling slightly as he made his comment.

“I’ve been up for quite a while actually,” I corrected, Lil’ jumping in the driver’s seat, apparently not having noticed that I was awake. Rock turned back to face me, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

“You’re very quiet aren’t you,” the Quazi asked, turning round as he spoke.

“So, where are you actually going?” I asked, ignoring Rocks comment. The pair went silent again for a moment.

“West,” Rock gave brusquely, I looked at the back of their heads, waiting for them to elaborate. They didn’t.

“Could you be more specific?” Opening up my case as I gave the question, taking out a wad of notes and sliding them into my pocket.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to you,” he nipped back, a snideness ringing clear and true in his voice. I turned back and looked out the window, frowning sourly before letting my face slip back to normal. They would give nothing else It seemed. The plains rolled and ducked like kneaded bread as we drove past, the odd green guards of cacti and plains grass in stark contrast to the old red of the dirt. The old car itself rattled and squeaked as it sallied on, old or reclaimed springs sending out their wheezing protests just audible over the near-death rattle of an engine. As we continued along, progressively the odd spattering of rocks along the ground became more common. It was likely we were going to the mountains or the cliffs, so what used to be New Mexico then.

As we continued on, the sun beat down its heat onto us, the faded, pealing black paint the car bundled itself in did not help matters. Beams of light poked themselves intrusively through the myriad of bullet holes in the cars frame and struck out into the small areas of shadow left, leaving even less space to sit.

“Asriel,” Lil’ suddenly asked, pulling me away from my little examination. “I’ve got to ask - why do you do it? Scam and con all the people you have, and would? What have they done to deserve it?” Lil’ asked not turning back as she spoke, keeping her eyes on the land ahead, though looking at me through the grimy rear mirror above her. I sat silently for a moment, considering my answer, after all, if it was too close to the truth, whether they would not simply do away with me or not was still an unanswered question, and I felt I owned them no explanation.

“I provide services and trade. I do not describe every aspect of what it is I sell, not hiding it might I add, and they simply neglect to ask, or otherwise do not care. Still, what I do helps them and me in turn. They get fuel for their fires, ammunition to defend their families and water to keep them alive. It’s more than most have and far, far more than what the few who do will give away freely.” I stopped, looking idly over to the pair in the front seat, trying to assess whether Lil’ could take it, or whether I had said to much.

“I don’t like it,” she said firmly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “These people are suffering in deprivation, and you don’t give anything to them, you cheat and lie to keep yourself into good stock. I will not let you go out and continue to do it.” Rock made a noise of agreement before the car again drained of conversation, bar from the song on the radio.

It seems I didn’t let on too much, sadly I was still to be constrained by their fanatical idealism, but at least I wasn’t going to be disposed of.

I’m not here for others; but for me and mine. There is no need for petty morals or failed ideals in this day and age. It was notions from the Old World such as theirs that brought upon the new, and they all died on the journey, this New age crawling out, screaming, from the toxic pyre that God righteously plunged us in. I will not be bound by the dead rules of old.

After around ten minutes the form of a town came up in the distance, it was impressive we made it at all really considering the poor quality of the car. As we closed in its structure began to solidify, the town was built in the shape of the letter ‘C’ with two rows of buildings flanking a road in the centre, almost like arms hugging it, and at the head of the road was a large building looking down over the road. The buildings were made of radwood, the palish colour of it making it pop-out from the red soil. The only building that didn’t fit that mark was the central building, which was made from some kind of brick, framed in radwood and poorly cloaked in a marbled layer of whitewash, a heavy looking door flecked with rust sat dully in the massive door frame.

Just before we reached the edge of the town, Lil’ brought the car to a halt between two small hills and a bunch of plains grass. “We’re getting out here. The car is hidden out here between these two hills and all the brush, so it’s less likely anyone will steal it than if we left it out in the open nearer to town,” she ordered, getting out of the car along with Rock, “It’s not too far so it won’t be tiring.”

“Fine,” I replied, more irritated by her condescending tone than the walk, grabbing a satchel from the car and pulling on a pair of boots as well as a sandy yellow jacket - well, not this sand but I was told it was a sandy yellow - and pulled a satchel over my shoulder. I personally had trekked hundreds of miles over the Wastes in my life, hard labour was no stranger to me. We approached the town and reached it after around five minutes of walking, the town was built around a wide main road of packed dirt, shots of wild grass and bloodflower poking through it. Either side of it was tightly packed with buildings, most standing about two stories high, some reaching up to three. They were all either bare wood or clad in thinnish paint, many with grand signs nailed above their doors or rooves displaying their trade and brand in bold letters. In the narrow alleys between the buildings, you could see the shadowed façades of the other buildings that lay nested behind, a dense packing of structures behind each arm.

People in scrap tartan or starched white clothes milled about the street, pushing carts full of rusty farming tools or leading massive horses to pull wagons of food or wood. A tiredness was etched deep in their faces, yet, they looked contempt. Not overjoyed, or simply happy, but getting by. As we walked down the main road, a man caught my eye. He was sat in a sun-bleached wooden chair under the parranda of a squat square house, quietly singing, slipping spent brass out of an old revolver into his hand, the brass tinkling as he dropped it into a small tin at his left, and smoothly and slowly sliding in long, big-bored rounds into the cylinder, all the while muttering a light song under his breath.

“Deadman walking got nothing left to hide,” Tink, Tink “Lover’s bleed and heroes always die,” Tink, Tink “troubles coming and bullets gonna fly.” Tink Tink. I was pulled away by the pair, the song folding into the clamour of the street. An odd melody to be sure.

Hung above the main street between two tall buildings, one of which had people rushing in and out of it pouring in grains and cereals, on a thin metal wire was a metal sign, sandblasted by the loose dust that would barrage it in a breeze, displaying in thinned ink: ‘Hoodoo’. The towns’ name.

As we walked down the main street a man called to us and walked quickly up to us from further down the street, followed upon by a wolf Quazi, who walked noticeably slower and with a limp, holding a clipboard in one hand. He was a tall man, standing as high as Lil’ and almost as broad. His features were thick on his face, moulded in a pleasant look, wrapped in a sandy brown beard on his chin, a pale gamblers hat sat on his head, the sun having thinned the old leather to near paper at the brim. He wore a short sleaved white shirt, dashed with dirt and sand, his thick arms growing out of the sleeves, tanned and stained with sand, wearing old jeans equally dirty and patched to the point of not being jeans anymore, with a thatched straw belt, and finally a pair of sandy red boots held together by steel wire.

The Quazi was shorter by about a head, and thinner, a farther gone wolf Quazi, having prominent ears and a tail that swished about his trouser legs, a slight underbite where two comparatively small fangs protruded up. His hair, well fur, was soot grey, an odd colour out here, striped with a lighter colour that matched his irises. He was dressed in a white shirt that was rolled up just before the elbows, showing his somewhat thin forearms. Though, they likely were a lot stronger than they appeared, as was often the case with Quazi’s. Along with that was a white waistcoat with matching trousers, but curiously he was barefoot. But the most striking thing was a large metal brace on his left leg, going from just above his ankle to just below the knee, giving him a significant limp.

“Welcome to Hoodoo! I’m the Mayor, and this man here,” the first man declared genially slapping the Quazi on the shoulder and bringing him in close, jostling him slightly, “is my assistant,” then stopping for a moment than adding, “assistant mayor I mean, anyway, now what can we do for you?” his low smooth voice fitting well to him. Lil’ looked at him for a moment, almost taking him in then smiled, the man apparently ‘good’ enough for her.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Lil’, this is Rock and he’s Azzy,” she said gesturing to each of us in turn.

“Asriel,” I corrected, snapping slightly. Getting somewhat tired of her little joke. The mayor gave a chuckle, along with a small smile from his assistant.

“Well, you can call me Bullet, and this one here is Max,” again slapping the Quazi lightly on the back, rocking him slightly.

“Pleasure,” Max said, his tone quite clear except for a slight hiss on the ‘s’, and put out his hand, which Lil’ promptly shook. “How about I show you around town a little?” he asked Lil’, a grand smile on his face as he spoke.

“Sure!” Lil’ matching his smile as she replied. I looked over to them and broke in.

“I need to get some supplies, so I’ll do that while you get the tour of the town,” I politely declined. The pair shot glances at me, ready to remind me of my… position, but stopped considering Bullet’s gaze. They couldn’t really tell the man I was their prisoner. They would likely land in hot water considering the look of the town as in their minds. He would take it the ‘wrong way’ and not believe their excuses. So, they kept quiet.

“Of course.” Lil’ replied, a well-hidden irritation in her voice, Rock somehow managing to keep a benign expression on his face. Bullet seamed unbothered by my rejection of his tour, a smile still on his face.

“Well farewell then, oh, the supply shop is just down the road to your right!” he called as he began to walk way beckoning Lil’ and Rock forward, Max following on already. Just before I started down the street, Lil’ grabbed me by the shoulder and kneeled down on one knee, pulling me in close.

“Now, if you pull your little ‘deals’, or whatever you think they are, here while we’re not looking,” gripping my shoulder tightly with one hand, as she whispered to me, “there will be an issue. Clear?”

“Crystal,” keeping my voice level as I replied. She looked at me for another second then stood up, putting on a smile as she rose and swiftly walked back over to the trio. Could that woman be any more irritating, it’s almost a talent for her.

I readjusted my jacket, Lil’ having scrunched up the shoulder, then turned. I walked down the street, weaving myself between the carts and the rush of people, the smells of fertilizer and plants mingling with grease, gunpowder, sweat and sand. It bit into your nostrils slightly, but wasn’t too unpleasant considering other places. The shop that Bullet had directed me to was a two-storey building, made of radwood painted a slightly darker colour, a sort of thin brown. The building itself had a large open shop window and counter top, a light blue and white striped flag pulled over it, boxes of ammunition and tins stacked up on top of it. And finally on the side of the building a staircase went up to a veranda and door to the top floor. The bottom floor appeared to be totally devoted to the storefront, stacked with water cans, satchels, and food items strewn across the floor or on shelves in one corner, able to feed quite a few people with just those. But much more prolific were the weapons, clearly the focus of the shop. They were hung on the walls and from racks on the ceiling or stood on their stocks on the floor or simply stuffed into cupboards around the shop. Everything from ‘modern’ M4’s, M16’s and Kalashnikovs of every flavour, to pipe revolvers or handmade weapons. Ammunition filled the room as well, boxes and canisters were stacked up high on old cabinets that had already been stuffed full, small labels written on masking tape on the stacks, long belts of ammunition hung from the rafters like glistening bunting next to hats, boots and canteens.

And at the counter was the owner, he had clean olive skin and deep black hair pushed back and trimmed on the sides, clean shaven with a straight smile. He was dressed in a faded red leather jacket that went to his forearms, over a cream-ish collarless shirt, flecked with copper, lead and powder, tucked loosely in a pair of faded jeans held up by a twine belt. Finally, around his neck was a massive bandolier of steel cased cartridges, hanging over him like a vicar’s vestments, and a necklace hung from his neck made of two bullets, one a deeper red colour punched into the side of a greyer bullet.

“Afternoon, what can I do for you?” he asked as I approached, his voice low and smooth, with a slight accent.

“I’d like twelve boxes of .22 LR, five pounds of powder and some spare brass or steel, any type you have, along with some reloading tools,” I replied, giving him a small smile. He nodded and walked into the back of his shop, his boots clanking on the wooden planks of the floor. I looked deeper into the store as I waited. It was quite a deep building with no windows, or the ones that were there bolted shut with rebar, the room lit by lamps wrapped in brass or copper, likely melted down from spare ammunition brass.

“Do you carry water?” I asked leading my voice into the shop, checking on the off chance he had any.

“Yeah! Do you want some cans?” he called back, lifting a bunch of boxes from one of the cabinets.

“How much?” I asked simply as the shopkeeper walked closer to the counter and placed the boxes of ammunition on a table close to the cabinet and then picked up a can from behind the counter and placed it on the counter top. It was tall and thin, a bottlecap on its top.

“Six hundred Note per can,” he stated flatly. I considered it for a moment, and decided it was worth it, still cheaper than what most people would sell it for.

“I’ll take three tins,” gesturing to the tin with one finger as I leaned slightly on the counter. He nodded and took the tin off the counter and put it on the table with the ammunition and put another two tins on there with them. After another minute he came back with a few paper packs labelled as various types of cases and a pair of old coffee tins filled with powder and finally some reloading tools wrapped in what looked like a bit of dishcloth. “Thank you,” I said, reaching to pull out my money, “Oh, If I may ask, what flag is that?” nodding to the flag on the countertop, hoping to charm him into a discount with a chat.

He smiled at me pleasantly and responded, “It’s the Greek flag, where my family is – was - from. My grandfather left it to me, along with this,” he explained softly, then reached under the counter. From it he hefted up a beastly giant of a gun.

It looked like a Kalashnikov, with a long barrel affixed to it with a flat square muzzle break on the end. But it was odd in how the ammunition appeared to be fed. It had a small silver box bolted to where the magazine should go, protruding back behind it towards the trigger guard, and fed through it was a belt of bullets, the brass and copper of them shining brightly in contrast to the dull steel links. It had other oddities as well, a vertical grip on its front that looked like the handle of a rolling pin stuck to the straight foregrip, and, affixed to the top of the gun was a sight made from a hole punched coin and finally on the stock was a bunch of odd-looking characters.

“I’ve added a few modifications over the years. But the stock and barrel mods were his,” he continued fondly, a pleasant smile on his face as he looked over the gun, lifting it as easily as it were a plastic toy. “What I’m most proud of is the belt mechanism,” placing it down onto the counter and tilting it towards me, pointing at the small steel box I had noticed, “how I got it to work is by using a set of ratchets connected to the bolt carrier, by using these L-rods, to pull the bullet out of the links and forward onto a riser, to then have the bolt pick up the round and feed it, with extraction happening normally as the belt is then incremented by one when the bolt recoils,” pointing to a pair of bars on the side of the rifle and cycling the bolt to demonstrate how it worked.

“It was a complicated feat of lock work I’ll tell you, but now it can fire a massive storm of 7.62 straight at anyone,” jerking his hand out at random as he finished, a great smile on his face.

“Oh, so it’s a Три-ли́ния[1] weapon?” I asked, having expected it was in something like 5.45x39, but got a confused expression from the man in return.

“A line?” the shopkeeper asked in a confused tone. I realised quickly and replied.

“Ли́ния; it’s an old Russian measurement my mother taught me, roughly equal to 2.54mm, so three ли́ния is 7.62mm,” I corrected and explained, counting out the boxes of ammunition. He gave a nod, mouthing ‘ah’. He lowered the rifle down back behind the counter and started to tally up a price on a calculator that looked like it was made from a broken circuit board, an old register and glass tubes, that was hastily soldered together, and wired into the wall.

“By the way, what did those characters on the stock say if I may ask?” hoping again to distract him from his counting somewhat, while also being drawn by my curiosity. He looked up at me, a slight grin on his face.

“It says: ‘Beware of Greeks bearing arms.’ Apparently it refers to an old expression from before the war, a little joke of my grandfather’s,” I nodded slightly, not quite getting his grandfather’s joke. He finished counting up the cost of all of it, and I handed over the money, totalling six thousand, five hundred and fifty Note, the whole thing not being too expensive, but still wounding me as it was far harder to make money with Lil’ and Rock hindering me so. I pulled the supplies forward and stuffed them into my satchel, closing it tightly.

He studied me for a second, his face keeping mostly still, then asked. “Do you have a hat with you?” I looked at him, thinking for a moment before I spoke, wary of being caught in a ‘bargain’.

“No, I lost it recently, why do you ask?” he nodded, taking a somewhat solemn expression and pointing out into the street.

“It tends to get especially hot around mid-day here, so a hat helps to prevent heatstroke, to go out without one is… Not advisable, unless you have a lot of water,” I looked out into the street following his gesture and saw that he was right. Most people had at least something covering their head, whether it be a paled hat pulled roughly over their brows or just some refuse cloth tied round their crown with some string or wire.

I knew he was right of course, most everywhere in the southern areas of the wastes was a scorching place, and a hat was quite necessary, but before I had simply got ones from clients as a form of payment, so I wasn’t sure if he would be fleecing me with what he charged. But the sun was beating down, making the ground a mere few meters from you looked warped, so it was probably the better choice.

I turned back to the shop and looked in quickly for a decent hat. I saw one after a moment hung from a loose rifle barrel next to a handmade sawed-off shotgun. “How much for that one?” I called to him, pointing to it. It was an old straw hat that was flat topped, a boater I think Olliver called them. The teller looked at it quickly, barely giving it a glance before turning back.

“Twenty Note,” he answered brusquely in a plain voice, not having to think about it at all. I was surprised and replied.

“Really, that seems rather low?” suspicious of the low price.

“Ah, it’s a personal thing, I don’t like the idea of anyone getting heatstroke. Friend of mine, before I came, here got it while us and a few friends were down in New Villarhar running some trade, bit a piracy off ‘a Cuba as well but I didn’t join on that. That was his thing but, uh, yeah. We were out in the grass lands near the city, running around for some hunting and the like, foraging for things, and he wouldn’t put his hat on or drink, just kept going through the open ground, mumbling about some big rare find, then a coyote, or at least what they called that there, came up in a valley ahead of us around five feet big, looking half-starved but still enough to feed three people for a few days.”

He went silent for a moment, looking out at some distant memory I couldn’t see, “So, we set up to shoot it. An’ he just charges it, raving mad, and gets torn up. We killed the thing, but he was gone before that. I left after that, couldn’t do it anymore. Came here,” he finished, falling silent for a moment as his brain reshelved the memory, but perked up after a moment. “Anyway, that’s why it’s cheap,” he finished in his previous cheerful tone, lifting the hat up off the rifle barrel and twirling it around his finger.

“Alright, I’ll take it,” nodding slightly, pleased for the story, and the information. I guess the ‘Slave Coast’ as it was called, wasn’t just for that. “Oh, by the way, do you have any ink cartridges or paper?” I asked, not expecting much.

“Nah, those’ll be a while before they come here again, paper gets snapped up quick after coming in, same for ink,” he called from the back of the shop pulling something from a salvaged fridge, and twisting off the cap harshly, a tired wheeze of the bottle being given off.

“Well thank you anyway,” I replied and began walking away.

“Oh, I didn’t catch your name!” he called back, stepping up to the counter again.

“Asriel, and you?”

“Markos,” he called back, a grin splitting his face, resting his arm on the counter as he held the bottle in one hand.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure Markos,” I replied nodding to him and walking back out into the street. I debated trying to make my escape, possibly getting a villager to help, and plastering the pair as the illegal jailers that they were. But I was not keen on trusting these people, and it was much more trustworthy that a round from one of the pairs rifles would reach my back before I made it to the car, and even if I did, I can’t drive, so I would have to drag my belongings. Not a safe predicament to be in the wastes in the best of situations. I sighed slightly and lifted my newly bought hat to my head. It was quite short, only a few то́чка[2]… centimetres tall, and was wrapped in a silverish ribbon.

I sat it lightly on my hair, its natural puffiness almost making it float on my head. I looked around the street again, the previously waxing flow of people now waning as the sun marched through the sky to its midday post. Ammunition would be a hard sell here, chiefly due to Markos, though a small amount would probably go. Basic food stuff was unlikely due to the farming they made clear they specialised in, though drink would go well. It tended to in most places down south, same for up North too, but they were more desperate here. I’ve seen at least a dozen people stick their face into a pile of damp soil an animal just pissed on just for something to drink. All with faces like they had been given a gift from God.

Maybe a few weapons or tools could sell, though I would have to undercut Markos quite heavily, people trusted a local much more than a trader as well. Seeds and fertilizer would probably work, maybe some radwood shipments. If not, there is always some down and out shmuck who will leap at a loan, not caring for when he has to pay the dam thing back, or the interest.

I was broken from my planning by being practically heaved off my feet by Lil’, who was rushing forward determinedly dragging me along, Rock following on behind, a sour expression on the latter’s face, though not like that was anything new. “Wait!” called Bullet running after us along with Max, panicked looks drawn across their faces. Lil’ whirled around on them, throwing me about like a sack of vegetables, her fist gripping hard at my collar.

“Why should I listen to you, you’re accomplices to it!” she roared, her face a deep crimson in fury. Bullet looked slightly wounded by her comment but quickly wiped it off his face, keeping mostly to anger and worry.

“No, we aren’t, all we do is let it go by and mind our own people,” his voice firm as he spoke.

Again Lil’ flared up, yelling in a booming voice that echoed in the street and caught the attention of the thinning crowds in the street and a few idle eyes from house windows or porches, “It’s slavery! How in the hell can you just, ‘let it go by’?!” Her rant let me know what was going on. Namely Lil’ was throwing one of her little hissy fits at the realities of the world and her little noble speeches. Bullet himself looked at her hard from under his hat, keeping himself tall, his shoulders straight.

“We can because there is no way we can stop it. They have more men, guns, and pure and simple cash than us. There is no point in risking the lives of my people just for the sake of a bunch of strangers. Who, in our position, would at best ignore us and at worst buy us for themselves. I have a duty to this town and its people as its leader,” Bullet addressed, pausing as he spoke, stepping close, a more sorrowful look on his face for some reason. “And I can’t compromise that for the sake of saving some unknown strangers,” he finished flatly jabbing his finger onto her chest, agitation having bled back onto his face, growling out with his sentence.

Lil’ made a slight growl in response, and batted his hand away, both mirroring each other’s expression, their agitation placed plainly on their faces. “Well, I’m helping them, regardless of what you think, and you yellow fucks better not interfere,” she declared, turning her back to them and shoving me ahead of her, almost daring me to join Bullet and Max’s protests so that she could just off me right now, a manic look deep down in her eyes, one I doubted even she was aware of, glinting within them like a kukri blade.

“Wait!” Max suddenly called out to us, or more specifically, them. Lil’ cocked her head back, agitatedly, turning her side to them, a snarl on her mouth, expecting to be stopped by force. “If you’re going to do this, you’ll need some help,” Max finished, Lil’ looking caught off guard for a moment, the same being said for Bullet, who gave Max an odd glance, but the latter put up a hand silently asking Bullet to trust him, and Bullet rolled his eyes slightly and walked up with him. “We can’t help you, and most of the people of this town have got too much on their plates already,” Max continued, Lil’ managing a neutral expression as she listened Rock doing the same at her side, but an edge of disapproval still carving its way out of Lil’s gaze. “But there is someone mad, and capable enough to help you. An old marksman who lives in town, Mr G. Morgan. He keeps, or kept trying to get us to go after the slavers too. To ‘take up arms against oppressors’. But no one goes with him anymore. Used to, but, It was usually just him who came back,” Max finished looking dead in Lil’s eyes as he spoke, hoping to drive home the fatality and the futility of fighting, trying to use reason.

As usual, she didn’t care for reason.

Max sighed slightly and continued, “he lives in a house down the main road, stays on watch signing old songs to himself. Tall man with short grey hair, dressed in flannel and tan coloured trousers. Can’t miss him,” he described, gesturing down the road to the house where I had seen the man with the revolver. Lil’ inspected the two for another moment, her face flickering between begrudging gratitude and disgust. But she eventually stilled her expression and nodded to the pair, managing a smile, and walked down the road, Rock following on silently after, weaving themselves through the now near empty street to the house.

 The man in question was still sat on his porch, appearing to stare wildly off into a distance that wasn’t there, spinning a large spent brass case about in his fingers absent-mindedly, not taking note of it himself. He was a reasonably tall man, not as tall as Bullet or Lil’, but he would tower over most people. His skin was tanned and creased like old leather, marked by scars and pockmarks. He was dressed in a faded red flannel shirt, over which he wore a thin tan jacket that just covered past his shoulders, leaving his thick arms exposed. Cuts laced across his forearms, hidden slightly by old muscle. He wore a similar tan coloured pair of trousers with a spiral of thread going up the legs, a rugged leather belt round his waist, a holster holding a gigantic revolver hanging from it, any finish once on it gone, but not bearing a single vestige of ill use.

He turned his head to us quickly and looked deeply at us with a pair of beetle black eyes, irises like pin pricks. His face was hard and thick, an untended moustache wriggling like a massive white insect on his lip, an old scar splitting upwards through it, cutting it in two. His marbled grey hair poked out slightly onto his brow from under a faded rifleman’s cap, old curtains tacked on its back to cover his neck and ears. “Mr Morgan?” Lil’ began her voice firm and unwavering as she posed her question.

“What do you want?” he replied brusquely, speaking in a sort of country voice, his tone sharp.

“We heard that you would help us fight the slavers,” Lil’ replied, her voice clear as she continued with her nonsense. At this he seemed to jostle slightly in his seat.

“You’re fighting them?” a curious excitement in his voice along with a note of disbelief, a small smile tugging at his left lip.

“Yes since no one else seems to be doing it,” she answered a loathing sourness deep in her voice as she spoke. His smile broke wide on his face, pulling up the other side, and he jumped out of his chair, his boots clomping loudly on the wooden decking.

“Then let’s go!” reaching into his house and deftly pulling out a rucksack from behind the wall, as well as some steel plates which he tied to his limbs as he walked, his gravely laugh howling into the midday sky like a mad dog’s bark.

Great. Another lunatic moralist.

Both Lil’ and Rock followed after him, looking pleased at the man’s rapid agreement, dragging me with them. He led them down the road to the town hall where both Bullet and Max stood, laden with weapons. I hoped they were here to finally stop them, realising their error, to force them to concede and move on, ending this idiotic charade of a crusade. Or at the very least shoot them so I could finally get on and do as I pleased.

Lil’ looked ready to fight, if need be, but Bullet just raised his hand to stop her. He wasn’t hiding the irritation on his face, yet he looked oddly accepting, “we aren’t here to stop you,” dammit, “we came here to accompany you to the ridge.”

Bullet received confused looks from the pair in response, Morgan nodding genially, “I am the mayor of this town, and it is my job to protect its people. Morgan is one of its people, so we’ll come to make sure he’s safe,” Lil’ looked like she was about to say something, likely on the lines of how Bullet finally saw the ‘error of his ways’ or some other stupid shit. But Bullet cut her off again. “But, we’re only guiding you to the ridge, no further,” his face stiff as he finished, clearly unsettled in his decision. Honestly, it would be far easier for the town to just shoot the pair and be done with it.

Lil’ looked hard at both him and Max for a second, making her displeasure with them clear on her face, but then nodded and motioned for Morgan to lead on. As they moved on, I opened my mouth to protest, to try and be left behind. But Rock whirled around at me with a wild look, baring his teeth.

I shut up, none of the three strangers noticing that little exchange.

I’m surrounded by morons with rifles.

We left town and started the long trek to the route that the slaves were apparently driven through. We walked in a single file convoy, Morgan taking the up the vanguard and leading us, striding forward with a sort of old confidence, being followed by Lil’, myself, Rock - who glared down at me for most of the trek - and finally Bullet and Max who guarded the rear.

The wind picked up as our march continued on, sending swirls of dust and bumbling weeds to dance around our feet. The caws of a few interested scavengers rang clear in the high air as they perched, hidden, hoping for a meal. All of them, bar Lil’ walked with their guns holstered on their backs or sides. Lil’ herself gripped onto her weapon tightly, her head twitching to the left or right occasionally, seeming to expect an attack at any moment.

About half an hour through she started to relax, eventually hanging the massive weapon on her back into a mesh holster. Relaxing her shoulders slightly. “I,” Morgan, said suddenly, breaking the hot silence, “don’t believe I asked your name Miss?” trying to force his sharp tone into being pleasant, leading us forward as he spoke, not turning his head.

“Call me Lil’, and you?”

“George T. Morgan, at your service,” he returned turning back to us quickly pealing a smile across his tanned face as he touched his hat in formal greeting. Lil’ seemed to return it, though I couldn’t quite see. She was silent for a moment seeming to be mulling over her words.

“So, why are you still in this town? You know what they let happen, but haven’t’ tried to get them to stop it, or help them?” not letting dogs lie then? Honestly why was she so hung up on this. It’s not a hard concept to grapple. Morgan himself though was quiet for a bit, striding forward still, then levelly replied.

“I have, a few times. But, they tried to get me to stop, and I did in the end.”

“Why?!” she burst out, sounding insulted. Almost as if he had just broken some great taboo. She came up alongside the man and turned to look at him, letting me see the furious face she was wearing. He gave a her a sort of polite regard, not turning to her fully.

“’Cause I could do no more,” she fell silent at that, her face slightly softening, “I tried to make them fight, lot did! But… Usually only I came back, and when others made it, they weren’t the same after,” he spoke softly, slowly shaking his head as he finished, continuing forward in a more deliberate pace now. “And, the slavers would figure out where we came from, an’ ‘make an example outta us.’ as they put it. They’d come like a firestorm, taking everything and everyone and torching all the rest,” his voice hollowed as he spoke now. Lil’ not following after him as he shuffled forward.

“I went six times ‘fore Bullet managed to get me to stop, from those, near half the town lost their lives, one way or another,” Lil’ stood still behind him her ‘righteous’ fury seeming to have now ducked down. “It’s a marvel they still let me stay after that,” chuckling darkly as he finished. He turned back solemnly - a smile pulled sadly across his face. “Don’t hate ‘em Ma’am, it just isn’t their fight,” he said, almost pleadingly. she made no reply and followed him, the rest of us doing the same.

But, barely a second after that Bullet suddenly called in a strangled whisper, “get down! Get down!” pulling me and Max down behind a small sand bank, the other three diving down after. I shot Bullet a sideways glance, my suit now covered in dust, but his gaze was fixed out into a field ahead of him, his face stiff, and drawn thin. I followed his gaze and saw them.

“Claprabbits,” Rock muttered breathlessly, a grim expression settling on his face. A claprabbit was an ugly fusion of a rabbit and some form of roach, with thorny bug-like legs, and ratty brown fur. Its jaw was split in two at the bottom, so drool dribbled down its neck constantly. They are about the size of a dog, but not too much of a threat as long as they weren’t in large packs - like the one in front of us were.

“They’re a bit far away, so I don’t think they’ll notice us. Best to stay quiet and wait till they pass,” Bullet whispered, ducking lower down behind the sandbank. Lil’ looked like she was about to make a remark but Rock put his hand up to signal her to just go with it. She frowned slightly, but gave a sharp nod, still peeking over the bank, pressing back hard against it.

“Best to get your rifles ready, just in case. Keep the barrels below the ridgeline so they don’t spot the glint,” Morgan added, slipping his revolver out of his holster, and resting it against his thigh, the grand thing nearly half the size of the limb, the cylinder as deep as the trigger finger. The rest pulled out their weapons as well. Lil’ with her machine gun, which she pressed into the bank as she craned her head at an odd angle to peek over it. Rock pulled out… a new thing. Like a Kalashnikov mushed together with an M16. The barrel and grip of the former jammed into a shrunken receiver from the latter with a thin little magazine that fit neither, held together with blue twine and staples it seemed. He gripped it tightly across his chest, looking up to see Lil’s face.

Bullet’s rifle was a lever action thing with a trough on one side which Bullet snapped open and dumped a pair of .45-70  into, holding it in both hands as he sat on his knees looking over the ridge of the bank, the brim of his hat catching the dust tossed up by the wind. Max, hunkered down between me and Bullet gripping hard on a Glock, what type I didn’t know, his face prepared but nervous, pushing himself up from the bank with his arm. I pulled out my pistol as well and cocked it, keeping my back to the dune. Rock turned from Lil’ and looked at me with a quizzical expression.

“What is that?” gesturing to my pistol with an open hand.

I looked back at him oddly and whispered back, matter-o-factly, “It’s a pistol,” at this he actually looked slightly offended.

“That’s not a pistol! What are you going to do, tickle it to death?” his hushed complaints causing the other three to turn and look at us.  

“It’s fine, be quiet,” Max said harshly, Morgan and Bullet muttering in agreement as they looked over the ridge of the bank.

“How? It’s tiny? What even is it?” Rock, flabbergasted, again gesturing widely at it. Lil’ nodded slightly but was patting him on the shoulder, signalling to him to drop it.

“It’s .22 LR,” I said quickly, flicking my eyes to look at him, then turning back to the dune, my hat scraping into the dune slightly. His eyes widened again, forcing out in a whisper.

“Twenty two?! Of all the calibre’s you got a .22?”

I spun round to him and snapped, “It’ll be fine, now shut it!” Lil’ putting a hand on his shoulder as I finished, making him drop it.

I turned away from the bank and looked out behind us, stiffening when I saw it. I tapped Max on the shoulder, so he turned slightly, his leg brace groaning in protest at the strain, and froze as well. About ten or so meters away, there was a sole clap rabbit watching us quietly, its head cocked to the side. Curious.

“What is-”,

“Shh!” Lil’ began but I cut her off. “Keep still, there’s one behind us. If it attacks or sounds off, then all the rest will come as well,” they all stiffened slightly as they faced over the ridge, trying hard to stay still. “How will keeping still help? They attack on sight!” Rock forced out of his throat, not turning his head.

“Sometimes they leave you alone if you keep still,” I responded trying not to move my mouth too much.

“No, they don’t!” he snapped back, giving me a smouldering glance from the corner of his eye.

“Yes, they do, most of the ones I see do. It’s a roughly fifty-fifty thing. So, shut up!” he went quiet, but kept his eye peering back as far as he could manage.

The claprabbit itself watched us deeply, pacing slightly forward, but keeping itself at a distance. It was an ugly creature, with scars wrapping themselves all over its back where it had fought its’ kin. Wire like fur, the colour of fool’s gold and rust, standing short and course on its lithe form while frothy blood and saliva dripped from its neck. It stopped for an hour of a second, becoming as still as a statute as it inspected us, then began to turn away. Both Lil’ and Rock then suddenly sighed in, presumably, relief. It snapped around, twisting itself towards us and gave a screeching, droning warble of a cry, dashing at us head first.

The rest scrambled to turn and bring their rifles to bear on the claprabbit. But before they could, I fired a round into its brow, which landed with a small ‘thwack’, the creatures front legs giving out, so that it skidded on its chin up towards us, blood pooling from its brow. Rock looked at me slightly surprised, and I smirked back in return, the man blushing slightly in response.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to rub it in. Just after the loner gave its cry there was a cacophony of those high warbling screams that dragged themselves across the air like nails on a chalkboard. The herd had noticed us. “Merde,” I muttered under my breath as the others all lifted their weapons, placing their barrels on the crest of the ridge. Lil’ and Rock let loose a withering hail of fire, the deep booms of Lil’s machine gun juxtaposed by the short snaps of Rocks… Rifle? Bullet burst out rounds into the mess of a herd as it swarmed forward, coming closer with every second, the rifle fire whipping up the sand in front of us, sending it falling down on us, half blinding us. I held my fire, knowing my pistol wouldn’t be much use at this distance.

Then as they got nearer, they dove into the ground, down burrows in the red sand, kicking up rocks, the mass of them still zig-zagging forward to us, nearly on us. I shifted around, darting my eyes around the ground behind us, searching for where they would pop out, hopping up to my feet. The first one burst out of the bank and clamped down onto bullets side, making him shoot high as he cried out. I popped a pair of rounds into it, but it still held onto him, till Bullet flipped up his rifle and bashed its head in with the butt of it, grunting painfully as it was pried off. Max pulled out a loop of bandages and a glass bottle and wrapped them around his wound - the cloth slowly turning red. He then poured the bottle over the wound, making Bullet hiss in pain again, then turn back to firing, dumping in more ammunition.

The rest jumped up from the bank, it being more a danger than a defence now. “Keep walking as you shoot so the diggers have it harder!” Morgan called out, firing his revolver at a pair of the things, killing both. We headed towards the cliffs as we backed off, firing at any that got in range. Lil’ was at the rear, with her machine gun rested on her hip firing behind us as we advanced. The rest keeping theirs shouldered at they backed up, whirling around at the great mess of targets.

When they had properly closed in, I peeled away from the group, using the distraction to try and get away. I would be able to wash my hands of this whole foolish crusade against good business, and get back to it. Then, a trio of diggers jumped up from the ground and leapt at me, one just missing my leg. I fired three times, hitting one in the neck, sending it down in a red gargle. The second one jumped on me knocking me down, snapping at my face as I held it back with the back of my arm, pressing hard against its chest. I fired down between the legs of the second at the third one that was about to clamp its jaws onto my leg, sending it down with a whimper. I pointed my pistol at the head of the one that remained and pulled the trigger, only for the hammer to land on an empty chamber.

It lunged at my neck, spreading its mouth wide like a horrible flower, but, before it could latch onto my neck, the top of its head was blown off. Bloody chunks and gore were flung up like a fountain, sprinkling viscera on the red dirt, sending it an even deeper shade of crimson. I pushed the now limp creature off of me and turned in the direction of the shot, preparing an explanation to feed to those fools. Instead, Morgan was stood a few meters away, the others not having noticed me, holding his revolver in one hand, his face set in a knowing and disapproving expression. I looked at him for a few seconds, half stood up, before he put his revolver at half cock then began reloading it, walking back to the group.

I pulled myself up onto my feet and brushed myself down, wiping off the claprabbits rancid juices on its wire brush fur. The claprabbits were gone now, dozens of their ugly forms lying on the sand and stone now baking in the sun, a few diving away from their dead and fleeing. They would notice if I tried to flee now, and I would find a rifle round through my leg for my trouble. “Ёлки-палки!”[3] I muttered under my breath as I walked back, silently souring over the failed departure, and that I would be stuck with the idiots for even longer.

I slipped the empty magazine out of my pistol, and pressed in a new one, pulling the bolt back to chamber a new round, putting it on safe as I placed the dry magazine into my satchel. As I caught up to the group, they had holstered all of their weapons so I followed suit. Lil’ turning to me as I approached and snapped out, “and where the hell were you?!” her own suspicions singing clearly from her voice.

I shot half a glance at Morgan as I was about to speak but he cut me off. “A bunch of the claps’ came ‘tween us and split him off, tryin’ to finish off the weakest ones first. But, as you can see, he lived,” the old man answered, chuckling slightly as he finished. Lil’ eyed me for a second, but kept her doubts quiet, nodding with a tired grumble.

“Then let’s go,” she grumbled out, motioning with her arm for Morgan to keep leading on.

We reformed the line and kept walking. There weren’t anymore encounters with wildlife, the creatures of the day content to sleep until the cooler night or to simply scavenge the buffet of bodies behind us. After a few dozen minutes of walking across the sandy ground, it began to become rocky, then we came to the base of a path that scaled a monumental mass of rock that looked like it was desperately dragging itself up to the sky.

“This is where we leave you,” Bullet said firmly, his expression matching his tone, in seeming ignorance of his wound.

Lil’ looked at him harshly over the peak of her nose. “Go ahead and leave these people then. You’ll have to face what you’ve done one day,” he regarded her coolly for a moment, then seemed to stop himself.

“My job is to help my people. Not to place my personal morals or vendettas above them and their lives. No matter what you say it is my duty to do right by and protect my people, me and mine, not any and all. No matter how I may want to,” giving her a hard look as he finished his eyes cast in determination, taking Lil’ aback slightly. But she simply gave a frown and turned around to the foot of the path.

As Bullet and Max began walking back, I was about to shout for them to take me back with them, to avoid this pointless venture. But then Lil’ grabbed me hard by the shoulder, and pulled me close to her side. “Keep your mouth shut. Else I’ll smash your fucking teeth in,” her voice having lurched into a deep growl as she faced away from me. I lowered my arm slowly, annoyed at the interference, she released me after tugging me forward after her.

The path was uneven and steep, surrounded by gnarled rock, the cliffside and the sheer drop after it where the rock fell away into the stone red sky. Morgan was at the front of us, leading us up the path, striding forward across the uneven path with a certainty and strength that juxtaposed his old frame.

The suns’ drumming rays were now held at bay by the overhanging rock, as the evil eye slowly skated across the sky. Lil’ suddenly piped up, not content with the silence, punctuated with sounds of exertion. “I just can’t see why they won’t help,” it seemed she still refused to drop the subject. I rolled my eyes, honestly in her case, brains were as common as cats’ tears.

Morgan, somewhat pleadingly replied, “don’t think badly of them. It’s simply what they have to do.”

At this Lil’ whirled around at him, snapping out, “What do you mean?! They are leaving these people to suffer, to die! All for their own sake! How can that be, ‘what they have to do’?!” the expressions of the pair hidden as they shouted out over the open sky. Morgan was silent, making Lil’ straighten herself up, a toxic mix of smugness and anger oozing off her.

“The job of a leader,” Morgan began again, ending Lil’s smugness for the moment, “is to protect and build up everyone below you with every ounce of your ability and being.” His voice firm, somewhat proud as he spoke, “that protection requires sacrifice. To put to one side vain desires, to remit certain principles and to take on all evils in place of your people,” he turned round to face Lil’ his expression stern, but heartfelt, “it is not their job, or their privilege to yell about the worlds injustices and wildly run off to tear at them like a wild dog. All that will do, is hurt his own people, and they are the ones who he has to protect.”

Lil’ kept silent, the smugness of her posture having ebbed away slightly. “I still don’t like it,” she stubbornly replied striding past Morgan, forgetting she didn’t know the path, her voice still harsh but almost hollowed out.

“You aren’t supposed to, hell they don’t like it themselves,” he replied, chuckling slightly at his own words, walking past her leading us up the path, “but, it’s all they can do.” His voice sank again, as he looked down at the floor. Honestly, they all seemed to be masters at finding flaws were there were none. If it were me, I’d invite the slavers through town, try and get some business off them as they go through.

As we continued up the path, I looked out over the ground below. Great black birds swept down upon the clap rabbit’s corpses off in the distance, almost level with us at this hight, the sun shining off their backs making their silhouettes meld and flux as they flew. The ground below was a dirty, sun-baked mix of browns and reds peppered with pillars of stone and cacti, odd bursts of wild grass and wildflowers jumping from the earth sat in company with the bones of giants and the steel wrecks of human monsters. Claimed property of the wastes.

As I was staring down from the cliff, Rock suddenly piped up, “so, George, where are you from? I’m curious how you managed to land yourself here,” Morgan looked at him for a moment as he walked, keeping one eye ahead.

“I’m from Hoover Dam,” he began plainly, the others instantly stiffening up, Morgan span his head around to them and quickly snapped, “No, not that one!” his voice exited, yet slightly annoyed as the other two relaxed, or pouted more accurately, somewhat. I was left out of the loop for what dam they could be thinking off. “’S a town along the Mississippi, in, well, what’s left of Missouri. They built it on top of a dam on one of the offshoots of the river. The founders were not imaginative people when it came to names,” his voice having a slight ring of exasperation as he spoke. We turned a corner and started to go deeper into the rocks, leaving the cliff edge behind us as the chatter of snakes and insects and all manner else occupied the air, staying hidden.

 “I stayed there ‘till I was, eight I think, then I left. Got bored I s’pose,” turning back to look at Lil’ and Rock for a second, a grin creasing his leathered face, “after all, you can only tell a kid that ‘the world isn’t what it was’ fore they go to see the damm thing themselves,” he added, speaking in a weightless tone as he quoted them.

That wasn’t my experience.

“So, I go forth into the world. To adventure in the unknow, a gun from the armoury in my hand and the clothes on my back, and not an ounce more,” waving his arm around as if he was brandishing a pistol in the air as continued. We came to a sheer face of stone which he leapt up deftly, almost seeming to pull himself up by grabbing at the air, and let down a rope for the rest of us. We all climbed up the coarse bundling of twine, my hands catching on it slightly as I climbed, Rock waiting behind me, watching me closely.

Honestly, that man was a nuisance.

The path continued at a softer angle at the top of the rock face, but was no less rough. Lil’ continued with her questions as we all clambered through the path, “where did you go after that?” not showing any strain in her voice. I looked at her, for a moment, not letting my tiredness show on my face. How she could go from shouting and cursing, then to being as docile as an old dog at the drop of a hat was ridiculous. And all the while we’re preparing to go raid some poor convoy based solely on her outdated little ideals.

But, while I was still festering at my own agitation, Morgan continued his stories. “Well, first I tried to cross the Mississippi, find something out about what happened to the East-Coast,” the pair stopped walking and darted over up to him, curiosity clearly dug deep into their faces. I edged closer myself, done with my brooding, curious if there was a way to get over to those unknown lands. “Did you make it? What happened? Did anyone survive?!” they bombarded him with a flurry of questions, the sound eventually shifting into what was like the buzzing of a mozzfly.

Morgan put his hand up to silence them, and then quickly replied. “No, I didn’t make it across,” he responded with a heavy finality, looking at them sadly, “I’d made a raft from a pair of old rowing boats, and one oar that hadn’t snapped from woodworm. Took ages to get halfway across the thing, but I was near boiling over with excitement, when something suddenly burst out of the water and tore up my boat. I got sent flying into the river, and just started swimming as hard as I could to escape the currents and whatever the fuck that thing was ‘fore they could get me. But the thing just kept going after my raft, jumping out from the water and snapping up the remains of it in its jaws, sending a shower of splinters in every direction like it was a wooden firework,” he narrated boldly, as if he was telling a great fable, though leaving me slightly confused at what a firework was.

“I got a look at it as I was swimming back, it almost hanging in the air. It was as big as a stallion, with a long thin mouth stuffed full of massive teeth, it’s body a great mass of pure muscle bound in a jacket of pearl white scales that made the whole thing seem like it was made of white-hot steel.” He stopped for a moment just staring into the rock walls, “scared me shitless!” punctuating his words with a chuckle, before his face again fell.

He went further up the path, prompting the pair to jog up to catch up to him, pulling me forward with them. “What did you do then?” Rock asked, trying and failing to hide his interest, his slitted eyes practically sparkling. Morgan looked back to him, pressing his face into a smile, apparently happy at the interest, “I swam, I was practically punching the fucking river, trying to get to shore. And all the way there these small leach-like things kept leaping out from the water at me and latching onto me. I made it to the shore about 200-300 yards from where I first set off, then I turned back to look at the river to see the fucking thing racing towards me through the water. I pulled my pistol out and pointed at it to shoot, when suddenly this massive clump of seaweed latched onto the fucking beast and dragged it down. The two things threw up fountains of water as they fought, I ran before I was clued to who won, laughing like a maniac at the fact I survived, yanking off leeches,” Morgan paused for a moment, leaning on the rock and chuckling a bit as his hand twitched above his holster, a pair of circular scars visible on the back of his hand.

He stopped after a minute and stopped his hand, “didn’t try again after that,” he concluded, his voice going flat, not turning to face us. Rock looked at him incredulously, apparently oblivious to the unpleasantness of the story, Lil’ seeming to be the same. “What did you do next?” Lil’ asked, keeping her composure a bit better than Rock.

“A bit of this, a bit of that, I’ve seen most of the wastes, well the parts south of Canada at least. Helped a few settlements, got rid of some of the smaller slaves and bandit gangs that formed in the early years. Less so for raiders though, harder to catch and too big for me alone. I even helped found The Runners,” this caught my interest, and the other two apparently, though likely for different reasons.

“What are the Runners?” Lil’ asked, cocking her head to the side as she did.

“They were, a militia that was set up to protect settlements up North, it was set up by a man called Quentin Runner from Minnesota twenty odd years ago. I was staying in some ruined town in Nebraska when I first met him,” he continued, grunting slightly as he climbed over a large rock in the middle of the path, “we had a chat while he waited for some friends to come back. In the end, he invited me to train some members of an organisation he was tryin’ to build. I was sceptical at first but I thought it’d be fun, and would give some structure to when I would drink in the day. An’ to be honest, for Quentin, money pretty much grew on trees,” giving a weak chuckle as he spoke, pulling himself over a high clump of rocks, and helping Lil’ up as well.

“There, here we are,” he proudly but calmly declared, striding forward out from the tunnel into the sunlight. The path, as we walked out from the tunnel, crested into a rocky plateau, that looked down into a massive trench that ran between the mountains, flanked either side by cliffs. It was the route the caravan would take. On the opposite side of the gorge, a titanic wreck of a plane was strewn across the cliff face. It had been pulled apart and tacked to the cliff wall, strung together with a mix of stairs and steel beams, and stocked full with weapons, their barrels glinting brightly in the sun, and flanked either side by unholy wings, rifle ports every twenty feet, pinned horizontal on the cliff wall.

“What is that?” I asked before I could stop myself, mesmerized by the structure.

“Patrol post,” Morgan responded, quite genially, “Well, I say that, it’s more of an outpost really. The slavers who use this trail keep it stocked up in case they need supplies or to use as a rest point during storms or a migration,” he added, pulling off his rucksack and placing it down on the ground, then straightening his back, his bones popping loudly as he did, “ahh, that’s better. Originally it was set up to be permanently garrisoned, but the raiders from Santa Fe went after the slavers on this route after they built it. By the time the conflict ended none of the bigger slaver heads bothered to claim it or take it back.”

He knelt down and started filing through his ruck sack. “So,” Lil’ asked, looking out over the rocks, “what do we do now. Shouldn’t we be down there?” leaning over the edge and staring down into the gorge, the wind tiredly tugging at her as she peered down into the red abyss.

Just one push…

“When they come they’ll be hidden behind the corner in the canyon path over there. So, we won’t know when they’ll be coming if we’re down in the canyon. But if we look down into it from here we can tell in advance when they’re close. There’s a path that leads down from here into the canyon where we can launch an ambush,” Gesturing to the beginning of a path that seemed to crawl its way down the rockface.

The pair looked down the path, not hiding their impressed faces, and turned back to Morgan. “How are you going to spot them though?” an edge of scepticism creeping into Rocks voice as he looked down hard into the canyon, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with his hand. Morgan smiled at him and pulled two great masses from his bag, one with a threaded end. 

“With,” he began, screwing the two pieces together till they came into the form of a scoped rifle, “this!” he declared, smiling widely as he pulled it up in front of himself. It had a long-ish barrel, no gas tube present on it, but a roughly carved table leg as a fore grip. The receiver was mostly square, covered by angular stamped steel, the top near the receiver mostly exposed however. The stock was pulled from some ‘modern’ rifle, and the scope was more a bit of plumbing with glasses on each end.

“What is that?” Rock asked, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

“It’s my rifle, I made it with some help from a friend of mine,” Morgan replied fondly, smiling as he inspected it.

Lil’ looked at him somewhat sceptically. “That’s a rifle? Where does the magazine go?” Morgan smiled at her, grabbed at a protrusion on the side and pulled back the block of a bolt, exposing a magazine in the middle of the rifle into which he place a stripper clip into and pushed in a set of five rounds, then loading a single round more, letting the bolt snap forward after.

“Flush internal magazine,” he announced, patting the area just below where he loaded the rounds, “it uses an inertial mechanism, and it’s a takedown gun so I can fit in my bag easily,” he added, smiling as he leaned the rifle on his shoulder. Lil’ nodded at him, still sceptical, but not mentioning it.

“Well, guess we wait,” Rock declared flatly, sitting down and leaning up against a boulder, closing his eyes. Lil’ nodded and sat down on a rock next to Morgan, who had pulled a tan sheet out from his rucksack and draped it over himself. He stared through the scope of his rifle down into the gorge, unmoving, almost sinking into the same stillness as the rock itself.

I leaned up against a boulder, and removed my jacket, draping it over me, tipping down the brim of my hat to cover my eyes, trying to block the sunlight that struck at us from the top left of the sky. A pair of russet-coloured hawks, or some bird of the like, darted about above us. They looped and whirled, in an isolated dance, wisping throughout the air in a disharmonious union. I couldn’t tell whether they were courting or fighting, but it was still interesting. Suddenly, as one bird dipped low to the ground, an ebony coloured snake snapped out from a rock pitted with holes and dragged the bird into it. The second bird hovered in the for a moment, either in terror or satisfaction, and then dived down the side of the mountain towards Hoodoo. Note to self: don’t touch rocks with holes.

Ten more minutes and I started nodding off from the heat, the day dragging itself into night. Rock had already fell asleep, but, annoyingly the other two had not given up yet, so the option of escaping was null. Just as I was about to duck out, Lil’ piped up, nocking me back awake, but I kept still, keeping their attention off me.

“So, what happened to you and the Runners?” she asked innocently looking down at Morgan. The tan sheet remained silent for a moment, then it dipped as he gave a long, heavy sigh. Morgan was silent for a long while, and when he began it was in a heavy, much older, voice. One that seemed loose and ill-fitting to his personality, but hung much better with the weight of his age.

“I stayed with them for a good long while, near ten years. Helped a lot of people,” a slight ring of pride, and joy catching in his throat as he spoke, “though, whether they all deserved that help… is another matter.” He paused for a moment, the muzzle of his rifle twitching as he shifted under the cover, stilling shortly after. “But, they, meaning the leaders of the Runners, along with me truthfully, always felt there was something that had been left undone. A trouble that had been let alone to stew and to grow for too long. The slavers,” he let his words hang in the air like some deadly poison, going silent. Lil’s expression hardened, her gaze flicking to look at me before turning back to Morgan.

“’Corse they were a lot more powerful at the time than they are now. Controlled large chunks of territory. There was one that controlled land from Ottumwa in Iowa as far south to Little Rock in Arkansas. Though that one was an outlier,” Lil’s face twisting in horror as he spoke, “so, Quentin and some of his officers decide they need to go after one of the bigger slavers. Mind you we had been going after the smaller operations when we came across them, but they would just end up being absorbed by a bigger group or some raiders,” he paused for a second, just breathing as he shifted under the sheet before he continued.

“So, Quentin and his two highest advisors, a man named Tanzin and a woman called Leshaana, went by Lesh, planed an attack on the smallest of the major syndicates. A group called Zalius based from the southern border of Nebraska. It was run by a man called Simon, who, from what we could find out, was a bit of a technocrat, ran the syndicate like he was the head of a committee with the smaller operation heads being on it as well,” he narrated seriously, “Also dressed in drag quite a lot, pulled it off quite well actually,” he noted, Lil’ giving him a slightly odd look at that, unbeknownst to him.

I actually had one or two pictures of Simon up in a storehouse in Voltaire, apparently he had a few admirers. Though I never saw the attraction myself. He did pull it off quite well though.

“Anyway, Simons group had the smallest amount of forces out of all of them, and those where already spread thin as well. He, Simon, apparently saw the whole thing as a business venture, rather than a conquest. He focused more on setting up outposts and trade hubs rather than capturing and controlling territory. It’s why Quentin and the others thought he would be the best one to take out first. If Simon went, the outposts and hubs would probably just split off or just collapse outright, destabilising, if not eliminating the Slaver presence in the Southern areas of the Wastes,” Lil’s eyes seemed to light up as he finished, and ecstatic smile splitting her face.

“That’s brilliant! That would effectively half the amount of people who they could enslave, so they would have less funds for when you took them on later!” she rambled excitedly keeping her smile on her face as she clenched her fists with excitement. Then her face fell with the realisation, falling into a more sombre expression, “what happened?” her voice soft, an unusual, though not outright unpleasant, sound.

Morgan gave another sigh, one strangled by heavy regret. “Quentin called up all of the forces the Runners could spare, leaving only skeleton garrisons in places that couldn’t manage without them. We scouted out the area, stockpiled resources, equipment and made plans. We attacked on April 15th, 2063; we started with an artillery bombardment for half a day, sending shells on their HQ and the roads behind it. After the bombardment was done we sent in some pre-war tanks we’d collected, helicopters to act as recon, too light for guns you see, and then ranks upon ranks of troops, all armed with M-16’s, M4’s and the like, all pre-war.”

“At first we were winning massively, Simon’s forces almost capitulated within 24 hours. Victory seemed assured,” he stopped, the words seeming to catch in his throat, “then, as all plans do, ours went awry,” chuckling dryly as he continued, shadows stretching far from him and Lil’ as the sun sank low.

“We had assumed, rightly at the time, that we would be only fighting Simon and his forces, which even if he had recalled all of his troops, we could very much manage. But early in the next day of the battle, a huge mass was spotted by one of the recon helicopters coming from the North. Quentin and his advisors waved it off. ‘Not a concern.’ They said, ‘Just a passing caravan,’” his tone darkening as he spoke.

He turned round to Lil’, his face hidden to me, then muttered grimly; “It wasn’t.” Lil’ suddenly looked slightly nervous, a grimace tugging at the edges of her lips. “We launched what we thought would be the final assault just after that, the one that would finally break them… Nearly did. Our forces were practically at Simons’ door when it happened. Out of nowhere, as if the cloudless sky had rained the shells themselves, a flurry of artillery slammed down in the middle of our forces. It annihilated a massive corridor of troops between the bulk of the army and the vanguard in Simon’s HQ, cutting them off. I was out leading in the field at the time, and just after the rain of artillery ceased, a swarm of enemy troops leapt from the ground. They appeared as suddenly as the artillery, all wearing a red sash slung over their shoulders,”

He contemplated something for a moment before continuing, “I don’t honestly know where they came from, even now! Whether they had hidden in the blasted-out buildings at night or crawled through the sewers or something else entirely. But, it didn’t matter in the end - anyone in that base who wore our colours, or more aptly, kept wearing them were slaughtered,” his voice snarling as he finished, as if the memory set aboil an old anger and grief in the man.

Though honestly, what did he expect to happen to soldiers. It was their job after all. “Then, they arrived,” he continued, steadying his voice, “tanks made of scrap steel, rushed forward into the fray, followed by slavers and even raiders on bikes, trucks, horses, or just outright running into the battlefield. Their tanks rushed in and bombarded each of our flanks, the Abrams tanks could punch through the things like paper, but the things moved too fast for the things to shoot at cleanly. And the little things juts bombarded the troops themselves as they darted about. Then the infantry made it to us. They outnumbered us near 4 to 1 and pushed us back to the middle of the field within a few hours, us having to rapidly build trenches to hold them back.” Lil’ kept her stern expression, but it was bent slightly with confusion, cocking her head.

“Wait, I though Simon didn’t have many soldiers?” she asked, bending down to him. “He didn’t,” Morgan replied flatly not elaborating further, leaving Lil’ with her question. “So where did the other forces come from then?” Morgan stayed silent, what he was doing I couldn’t tell, but he just stayed quiet, the brushing scratch of loose sand and the steady wing beats of the evening birds filling the silence he left.

Lil’ started to turn away, thinking he had finished when, with a slight bite in his voice he replied. “While we were planning our attack, somehow the other slavers heard about it, and something happened that no other situation would have induced. The slavers all allied, they formed a coalition army and sent it to protect Simon and his organization,” Morgan answered, taking a sharp breath as he finished, his frustration clear, “all the big players got up and decided to band together and fight us. They’d never done it before, hell they haven’t since, an’ none of the leaders from then are left now.”

“Suddenly, we weren’t fighting this small singular force which we far outgunned, outmanned and outmanoeuvred. What we were fighting now, was an army. One which matched us in manpower, and outmatched us in speed and manoeuvrability. But we held for two days, then three then five then six, all the way up to a fortnight!” letting out a hollow laugh as he finished, his back arcing under the tarp.

“On the fifteenth day, they managed to break the relative stalemate and push into our camp. By this point we were running low on M4’s and M16’s so the rear-guard and backlines were mostly had 5.56 bolt-action conversions, to fend them off with. We held out for a day and managed to push them back, actually capturing some field guns they had brought forward to shell our camp as we retook our lines. Then on the seventeenth day, in late evening, Simon and his second and third in command were all killed by artillery, so all his forces surrendered. All the other slavers retreated after that, leaving their dead, and their equipment. Technically it was a victory… But we didn’t see it that way. They day before Quentin was shot in the chest by one of the hired raiders that had made their way into the camp. It tore up most of his organs, but he managed to hang on till the morning after Simon was killed, but then his heart gave out,” Lil’s expression showing her abhorrence as she listened.

“We were leaderless, our spirits broken and desperately low on equipment and manpower.  Most of the troops who came for the campaign did so because they expected a quick fight against a morally and militarily weaker enemy. Something that would earn them some quick cash and a medal of honour. But instead, we faced a grand, co-ordinated force that, despite our initial technological advantage, ended up matching us or outdoing us in nearly every way. It shook them… us… deeply. After all, there are few traumas or horrors that zeal alone can hold at bay before a man breaks. And so, fractures began to show.

The lines and grime etched into soldiers faces showing over two weeks of effort, adrenaline and slaughter quickly twisted into anger, panic and despair. ‘Why did you lie to us?’, ‘What do we do now?’ Those questions were asked so much I can hear them banging around my skull when I sleep. The rank and file took up with various different officers who claimed they were Quentin’s true successor, each of them vying for that bullet riddled crown. Within a week, there was a schism, then the schism had a schism within themselves as well and so on and so forth, all of them collapsing under their own weight. In the end, most just went off and did their own thing, some formed local militias and carved themselves out a stake in the wastes, some set up settlements… But those were the good ones, most… Most just turned into raiders or bandits and covered up their sins with the Runners, Quentin’s, good name,” he sat up from under the sheet as he finished, his voice having a hard bite as he finished, his face lit by the evening sun, in an old snarl, one seemingly well practiced. He lifted his rifle up onto his shoulder, and pulled the blanket up off the floor.

“Really, the only one who properly tried to succeed Quentin was Lesh, who set up a similar organisation in South Dakota,” he drawled, looked over the canyon, cupping his eyes with one hand as he looked down the trail. “They’re not coming today, it’s too late. They don’t like to be traveling in the dark through the canyon, too many hiding places, and large critters. Best to rest now and get them tomorrow morning,” he explained walking over to a rock and leaning against it, facing east, then wrapped himself in the blanket, placing his rifle on the ground next to him. Lil’ sat down at the base of her rock, leaning her machine gun next to her.

“Are you, sure?” Lil’ asked, looking down over the cliff edge, “they could be going through the night this time.”

He gave her a slightly insulted look, then sighed, giving a small smile. “I’m sure, now rest,” he assured her, turning his back to Lil’ as pulled the blanket into himself. The sun was low now, hidden behind the opposite side of the canyon, sending up spires of gold and crimson light into the sky as it ducked behind them into the hidden horizon. The birds that still hung in the embers of the sky began to peel off, back home to their nests. Soon to be replaced by the hunters of the night. As I looked up at the sky, my eyelids suddenly became heavy, falling down over my eyes, and before I could stop it, I fell asleep, accompanied by the low chatter of awakening night creatures.

/////

                I watched as George tucked himself into his blanket going silent as he laid down. I stayed quiet for a while before my curiosity got the better of me. “Can I ask what you did? After… everything?” I asked, struggling to find the words. He didn’t move for a moment, then turned his head to me, inspecting me with a tired gaze before sighing, flashing a small smile.

“I left, didn’t feel much of a need to stay. I’d tossed my lot in with Quentin, not whichever chump declared themselves his successor,” he declared proudly, then paused for a second, staring down at his feet. “I suppose you could call it grief, avoiding the problem, not that it matters now. I wandered south and kept adventuring as I had done before, helped root out some of the bigger southern slavers, but they’d mostly retreated up North by that point.”

                I looked at him curiously in the last peals of flaring sunlight, waiting for an explanation, which he saw I wanted. “The war, which they call the April War now, crippled their forces, and more pressingly to them, their finances. So, they stopped trying to really build up power in the South, just sent caravans through to other places or got slaves from here. In the end, they settled on doing things Simon’s way, consolidating their power in the North, and just trading more than conquering. Ironic, really,” he remarked darkly seeming to mull over a thought as he finished, moving on before I could ask about it.

“But I got old, and adventuring off in the wastes wasn’t as easy anymore. I ended up helping the old mayor when he was traveling by New Austin when and he invited me to live in Hoodoo. Been here since!” he finished, wrapping himself back up in his blanket and shifting himself against the rock he was laid against. I looked up at the dark sky, the last drizzle of light slowly bleeding from the sky, trying to settle my mind over his story. How they gave so much to do the right thing and still lost. That a side, so in the right and so sure would collapse, and what those people did in the wake of it.

I stared up at the sky again. It glowed a tired, yet bold red, like the flames of an old battlefield as it quickly smouldered black at its centre.

Why did the Runners fail?

They lost their leader in a war they thought would be easy, but still. Why, with all those good people fighting for a good cause, why couldn’t they keep it together. It didn’t make sense. Of course, if that hyena in a suit over there heard this, he would probably argue that they weren’t a good cause or some shit about good business.

How someone so young could be so rotten I didn’t know.

I sat, going over everything again and again in my head, not able to wrap my head around it. “Are you alright Lil’?” I snapped out from my stupor and turned, just able to make out George looking at me through the darkness.

“Yeah, just… Chasing my own tail in my head over your story,” I replied, chuckling slightly as I looked forward into the darkness I had not noticed had come. I couldn’t tell what expression he was wearing in the dark, barely able to make out his silhouette.

“George...” I muttered, hoping to distract myself with a conversation, “You’ve mentioned the old mayor of Hoodoo a few times now. What was he like?” I asked slowly, George gave a long, rather content sigh, much happier than his others.

“Ron, as he was called, was an… interesting, man. His father was a Republican before the war, but wasn’t fond of how radical it was at the time. He was born after the war, and established Hoodoo when he was quite young. The South had it easier on the whole ‘nuclear winter’, thing but overall, that and climate change cancelled each other out quite quick. He built up the town, brought people in. He was quite keen on the idea of self-reliance and a good work ethic you see, so he pushed those ideas on the residents, but always applied it to himself more stringently. If he didn’t work, he didn’t eat, same as everyone else. People liked him for that. I liked him for that,” his voice warm as he spoke, like when he spoke about Quentin. If I could see his face, I bet it would be smiling.

“He wanted to do so much for that town, an’ he did. But there was ‘always more to do’ as he used to say. He never finished,” he whispered, a solemn tone coving his voice like a funeral veil, almost wistful as he recounted the man’s history.

“What happened, was he killed by bandits? Eaten by monsters? Assassinated by slavers?” I demanded, fascinated by how the man could have gone. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, making me think I he was struggling with the memory when he suddenly burst out laughing.

“What, what? Why are you laughing?” I demanded, flustered and confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” George apologised, wheezing, taking a moment to calm himself down, still chuckling as he resumed, “No, it wasn’t anything that grand. He’d have been far more pleased if he went one of the ways you suggested, a much ‘grander legend’ as he would’ve put it. But, no, he just had a lung infection. Died peacefully in his sleep after spending the day with his son. Really, he got to go quite nicely,” he added happily - from what little I could make out of his face, he wore a warm expression. I smiled to myself, no matter where you are there is always somewhere to lend a hand. I think I would’ve liked to meet Ron. Especially instead of Bullet.

“Wait… he had a son?! Where is he?” I burst out, wondering why he didn’t take over instead of Bullet. He chuckled slightly in the darkness.

“Dear, you’ve already met him!” George guffawed slightly. I already did? I couldn’t think of anyone I’d met in town yet who was similar to Ron, I kept thinking about it but came up short. After a few minutes of my silence as I kept trying to think of who he could be George sighed heavily and exasperatedly declared, “Bullet you dolt, the current Mayor,” chuckling to himself as he finished.  

I turned to him, not hiding my surprise on my face, though I doubt he could tell in the dark. “Bullet? Really? Well, guess he got the job from his dad then,” I grumbled derisively, I’d doubted how he’d got his job in the first place, now this explained it. The apple fell far.

“No, he was elected.”

What?

I looked at him again, forgetting that I couldn’t see his expression through the darkness. “A short while after Ron died, he was elected to take over from him, he was quite young at the time, so they had someone help him with it for a while, then he took control proper.”

I let my disbelief, and slight anger pointlessly show on my face in the dark, “I can’t believe people would vote for someone who would let something as horrible as this happen. All just to look after themselves,” I snapped, not hiding the venom in my voice.

“That is precisely why they elected him darlin’,” George replied kindly, surprising me, “People, right now want and need security and safety. Going on about grand ideals like freedom, justice and the like for all, don’t resonate well with people who aren’t sure if they’ll get food or water within the next three days. People who are just barely managing to survive. They need safety and security to grow and become strong enough before they have time to think about things like that. Even more so to be able to do anything about it. So, someone like Bullet who, despite what you may believe, has those ideals but can put them to one side to protect his own people, and will bear the cross of their sins… That’s exactly who they wanted, who they needed,” he finished simply, seeming to adjust himself where he laid.

I couldn’t believe what he just said, that such a ridiculous idea could exist. But before I could say anything George added; “And if you don’t believe that - Max, his assistant, was a slave until Bullet freed him when they were younger. That’s why Max has that leg brace, slavers slashed some of his tendons to try and make him easier to catch if he tried to run. The brace lets him walk mostly fine, not perfect but…”

“He went through all that and yet he’s still friends with someone like Bullet?!” I snapped back, flabbergasted. George chuckled slightly at my response, confusing me slightly.

“I’d say they’re a bit more than ‘friends’, dear,” he corrected, confusing me again.

“Best friends?” I questioned, cocking my head as I looked at his silhouette.

“No, no, more than that, cherub,” a somewhat mocking tone creeping into his voice. I kept thinking on what he could mean when I suddenly got it.

“Oh,” I muttered blushing slightly out of embarrassment at my slow realisation. I hid my face, not that it mattered in the dark.

“Yeah, and despite what their positions may be, hang around at night and you’ll soon find who the alpha is in bed!” he quipped, guffawing loudly at his own joke, a few birds flapping away in the night from the noise, as he slapped his knee.

He calmed down after a moment, letting out a slow cackling exhale, not saying anything for a while.

“Don’t,” he began again quietly, stopping as he seemed to be finding his words, “leap to judging someone when they aren’t as virtuous as you. It’s likely they can’t afford to be, rather than not wanting to,” he finished as I looked over to him for a moment, wondering what expression he was wearing, as I didn’t respond. I was unable to agree with him, or outright refute what he said. “Well, I think that is enough chatting for now, the caravan will most likely be coming just as the sun rises, so we’ll have the sun at our backs, so we’ll be somewhat hidden. We’ll use the plan that we discussed, remember to be in position. Goodnight,” yawning widely as he finished.

I leant back on my rock and gazed up at the night sky, the cold blue horizon speckled with bone white stars glowing tiredly in the sky. Someone once told me that we’ll still see the light from a star for centuries after they die out. I wonder how many ghostly stars shine in the sky still. I wonder how many will be left for us if we ever leave ours again.

/////

                I woke up to a stiffness in my back at having slept upright, but, that wasn’t anything I was unused too at this point. I checked my watch and saw it was twenty to six, the sun just barely not risen. The other three weren’t awake yet, their faces partially draped in the paltry light of a soon resting moon. I considered for a moment attempting an escape, it was a good opportunity after all. Though I was unsure of whether they would just shoot me in the back when they woke up if I ran. I didn’t exactly have any way to easily off them all either, I didn’t bring a knife, and I wasn’t strong enough to choke them out fast enough. So, the best solution would be to just slip away quietly now, while they are all still unconscious.

I started to stand up to slip away when Rock suddenly stirred himself awake, his eyes bursting open, and almost instantly locking onto me, not a hint of drowsiness present in his reptilian eyes.

“What are you doing?” he snapped loudly, oblivious to the risk that his voice might carry down the canyon and alert the caravan. Not that I would warn him.

“Stretching. I just woke up after all,” doing some stretches as I explained, but getting a sceptical glare in return. “It’s something people do after all,” I replied letting snark drip from my words, Rock’s expression only continuing to sour. Before we could continue our cold war of a conversation, the other two began to stir awake.

“Hm? Oh, you two are up, guess I slept longer than I intended,” Morgan called to us, keeping his voice low, being smart enough to keep quiet. He stood up swiftly, if slightly stiffly and cricked his back, sighing as it gave a loud trio of pops.  “Well, it looks like the caravan hasn’t been through yet, so we should be fine,” he voiced, peering over the edge of the cliff, down into the cavern. “All right, you three, get in position down the canyon wall, I’ll send something down to warn you when it’s coming, so be ready. I’ll try and take out the lead driver to stall them, then you use supressing fire and get the slave carriers. Understand?” the other two each gave a firm nod at the order, their faces determined, and, before I could respond, the dragged me along behind them. They pulled me down a rough path that seemed as if it had been beaten into the rock, unlikely to be a natural path. Halfway down the cliff face there was a small scallop in the rock that formed a makeshift watch post, hidden behind a shield of jagged rocks and blanketed in shade due to the rocky overhang.

Lil’ set up the bipod on her machine gun - distinctly more modern than the rest of her weapon - on the rocks, pointing the barrel down the canyons path, taking a knee behind the weapon. Rock held onto the frame of his abomination of a SMG with one hand as he studied the path along with Lil’ one knee like her, crouched behind the jagged rocks, occasionally flicking his head upwards in Morgans’ direction, making him look like he had a twitch. I sat at the rear of the cave, counting how many rounds I had, and refilling the magazines I had used yesterday, quietly muttering under my breath. I didn’t quite intend to fight. I’d see if I could persuade the caravan to take them with me, though I’d have to get my case back somehow, along with my suits. Nonetheless, there was the trimmings of the plan, and I doubted that the trio could actually win this fight.

We laid in wait in the cave, Lil’ and Rock remaining crouched at its jagged mouth, staring hard into the canyon path, sweeping the barrel of the machine gun over it like a searchlight. I lingered at the back of the cave, picking up a bunch of spent brass and a few magazines, suggesting that this cave had been used as an ambush point before as Morgan had said. But, considering the traces of blood near the brass… It was clear it didn’t work out. I stashed all of the brass and some of the magazines in my pockets, knowing I could use them later.

After about half an hour, a rock fell past the mouth of the cave, a side painted white. The other two recognised it as the signal and shifted their focus on the end of the canyon. Moments after, the echoes of galloping hooves and growling engines came up the path in a garbled and repetitive cacophony. They crouched stiffly at the mouth of the cave waiting for a sight of their ‘enemy’ while I moved forward, hoping to see whether they belonged to a group I was on good terms with. Lil’ nodded slightly, a somewhat pleased look on her face as I approached, probably confusing my attempt at an escape with me trying to help her. Rock kept a sceptical look on his face as usual, again the wiser and therefore more difficult, of the pair.

The echo slowly got louder and louder as the caravan approached, the rattling and squealing of the salvaged wagons pealing up the path to our ears off of the hard faces of the red cliffs. The head wagon poked from a corner in the canyons path, made from the salvaged end of a campervan roughly welded to a cast iron frame, a quartet of pale coloured horses pulling the hulking mass forward. At the helm of it sat a large, brutish, man bound up in a (most likely stolen) officers’ uniform. His face simultaneously having a red blush and a white pallor as he glowered ahead of him.

The pair sat still, not making a sound, eager to leap forward and strike, but waiting patiently for Morgan to shoot first. Like hunting coyotes around a kit. The other carriages followed the first, built in a similar fashion the first, mostly pulled by beasts of burden - Oxen, cattle and some of the smaller ones being pulled by dog like creatures. Only a few were dragged forward by puttering or roaring engines, twisting spires of exhaust being dragged after them like poisonous scarfs. The pair jerked their heads when they saw what they were looking for, three vehicles, all motor powered, that looked like they held the cargo. One looked like a horse wagon, the other a modified prison bus and the final one was oddly small, built from a van. I didn’t have time to ponder the odd size of it however.

The driver of the lead carriage’s head suddenly erupted into a fountain of blood as dirty red as the sand, the high ringing clap of the rifle shot ripping through the canyon just after it, the horses swerved to the side as the driver’s corpse pulled the reigns with him off the seat, where he landed on the ground and was trodden into the sand and dirt. Rock and Lil’ took that as the signal and Lil’ began raining fire at the caravan, supported by Rock, forcing the caravan to swerve around even more, already having to try and avoid the erratic movements of the aimless horses of the lead carriage.

The caravan guards turned around to us and returned fire, rounds slamming into the rock around our position, sending dust and stone chips flying around our heads. Then Rock hit the driver of one of the other lead carriages, his vehicle swerved and overturned itself, blocking most of the canyon path, forcing the rest of the caravan to stop. Rock and Lil’ suddenly leapt out from the mouth of the cave and slid down the cliff face, pouring out rifle fire as they advanced toward the caravan. I had no idea why they left cover, but it gave me a way to escape. I went through the side of the cave and crept down the other side of the cliff path, trying to keep out of sight of the guards. I heard the pealing noise of the firefight behind me as I moved toward the caravan, hoping to find someone to negotiate with.

The carriage I approached suddenly had a pair of guard appear from it and before I could speak, they opened fire. I dived to the side, into the ground as the first guard, a dark-skinned woman with beer-bottle glasses, fired a homemade rifle at me, digging a golf ball sized hole just where I had been, throwing up a cloud of white smoke in front of her as it did so.

I dashed behind a rock firing a pair of rounds at the woman. One of them found their mark through the thinning smoke as she started to choke and fell to the ground, her rifle falling with her then firing as it struck the ground, hitting the back of the rock I was hiding behind, scratching up the back of my hand with an explosion of splinters of rock. I hissed in pain, firing a trio of rounds over the rim of the rock to try and get the remaining guard to duck down. I jumped from the rock I was hiding behind and darted towards the carriage hoping to find a guard to negotiate with, or one to use as a hostage to force them to.

Then the last guard leapt up from the carriage and pointed what looked like a massively cut down Mosin-Nagant at me, the barrel barely longer than his trigger finger, and fired. A fireball two meters wide spewed from the barrel, the bullet going wide and again tumbling past me. He furiously worked the bolt, pulling it close to get some more leverage on the clapped-out bolt. He pulled it up again and tried to aim at me, leading his shot, just before he fired I stopped so he had to drag back his aim and I fired at his head as he did, hitting him hard in the eye. He screamed horribly for a second, clutching at his eye with both hands, dropping his ‘pistol’ onto the ground. He flailed around for a bit before falling down to the ground, dead. I dashed behind the carriage, hoping to avoid any stray gun fire from the pair of lunatic’s likely last stand. I didn’t doubt that if things went bad for them Rock would try and put me down ‘to protect people’ as he would call it.

I heard someone moving about inside the wagon, shuffling about heavily. I turned my head around quickly and cleared my throat.  “Hello, I know you can hear me. I wanted to talk, I’m not here to fight. I just want to make a deal, unfortunately your staff fired at me before I had a chance to introduce myself,” I called, putting on my salesman voice. There was no response from the carriage so I continued, “I’m not with those lunatics over there, they were holding me captive so, if you assist me, I’ll repay you well!” I offered pleasantly, slipping my pistol into its holster, not wanting to sour relations any further.

Suddenly the door of the carriage flew open revealing a man around 5’, his hair a sandy brown colour, matted with old sweat and dried red sand. His pupils were drawn into violent pin pricks over his snarling mouth: gripping hard on a ruin of a rifle, with a perished wood stock, bound together by zip-ties and copper wire. “You!” he growled out, molten fury smothering his voice, seeming to make him shake.

“Ah, yes, me,” I replied slightly awkwardly, not having expected this, “How are you Nic’, you seem to be doing… Well?” I asked, attempting pleasantries. The anger on his face etched itself deeper into his face as I finished, his tail, a thin thing with a tuft on the end like a cows or a donkeys’, and less the lion’s tail he constantly tried to claim it was, whipping around in fury before he shoved the rifle’s barrel just below my collar.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like you know me! You ruined me, saddling me with debt and hunting me down!” I looked at him calmly waiving my hand slightly dismissively.

“I didn’t ‘saddle you’ with anything. You borrowed from me. If you didn’t have the means to-”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!!” the man screamed madly, pressing the chipped muzzle of the rifle deeper into my chest with each shout his voice, breathing hard as he finished. “You don’t get to speak here! Do you have any idea of how much I’ve suffered because of you?! I had to run from my home in Topek to escape your debt collectors!” he let the rifle fall slightly lower as he leaned in close, practically spitting in my face, “I lost everything! I’ve not had a single good night’s sleep since then: I even had to join up with these barbarians just to stay safe!” he squawked, flip-flopping between fury and despair. He was silent for a second then raised the rifle again, levelling it with my throat, his face being pulled in a manic expression, his mouth filled with filthy, chipped teeth now forced into a demented smile.

“But now,” chuckling madly as he spoke, keeping his eyes locked onto me as he did, “I can fix all that, if I just get rid of you,” he smiled with relish, walking forward, keeping his rifle shouldered, his face fixed like an insane doll. I back peddled in pace with him.

“Well, it won’t truth be told, but in any case, I’m sure we can come to an agreement, you didn’t owe too much. I’m sure we can discuss some wo-” he interrupted me by shoving the muzzle of the rifle into my throat making me choke, then knocked me down with the butt of his rifle. I clutched an arm to my throat as I hacked, sliding it down toward my holster under my jacket as he re-approached. 

“No more discussions, brat! The only ‘dialogue’ that I want to hear from you, are your last words. Good bye ‘Mr Lemoni’,” he frowned darkly as he finished, some ecstasy in his twisted expression, his eyes blank as he gripped at his rifle, as I started to pull out my pistol.

But, before either of us could react, a round ripped through his left shoulder making his arm go limp, dropping his rifle, which he followed shortly after, wheezing and coughing on the ground, his eyes manically cursing me as he stared up at me, drowning in his own blood.

I looked to the side to see who fired… and saw Lil’ with her machine gun, crouched behind an upturned crate that must have fallen from one of the wagons. She nodded to me dutifully, as if looking at a comrade in arms, likely having confused the situation slightly. Not that I ever intended to correct her. I gave a short nod to her, giving her a token smile. She turned back to the battle, swapping out the magazines in her machine gun, then jumped up and poured fire into the cluster of caravan guards. I turned back to Nic’ and picked up his rifle, if it could be called that, and looked down at his now silent corpse. An irritating loss, but I’m sure I can make up the shortfall somewhere, rubbing my neck as I Looked over him. I went through is pockets and pulled out a knife he kept in it, a straight razor tied to a toothbrush, and cut off his tail after a trio of strikes, the blade having become quite blunt.

If Nic’ had been telling the truth, and it was lions’ tail as he so resolutely claimed, it would sell for a decent amount. If not, well, Erik could feed it to his dogs, or I could give it to Hapsburg from VL’s little group, he was fond of odd food. I’d have to make sure he cleaned it thoroughly first though. I pulled out Nic’s only clean teeth with just my fingers, his gums having rotted away from something foul, and pocketed them. Then I looted both the woman’s rifle, an unbalanced and basic piece, and the ‘pistol’.

The chances of negotiating by this point were slim, so the best idea was probably just to wait until the caravan guard killed those three and moved off. I peeked around the corner of the wagon to see how the fight was going. Morgan was the first one I noticed, he was darting about the middle of the battle, firing his revolver at the guards, the heavy rounds twisting the revolver up in his hands, and sending what they hit spinning. He dashed around, rolling and diving on the ground in and out of cover. He had a massive smile etched onto his face, his eyes filed with a wild energy that burned brightly even in his old frame. Rock was off to the side, firing off pairs of rounds at the guards, ducking down often, attempting to cover for Lil’: Lil’ herself was stood out in the middle of the gunfire, firing at the enemies from the hip as she walked forward, the odd bullet pinging off her armour.

As they continued the firefight, I noticed a young man approach the lead wagon and attempt to calm the horses. None of my captors noticed as he climbed up into the driver’s seat and tugged on the reigns, “Everybody!” he called out to the remaining members of the caravan, “I’ll clear the way, let’s go!” setting off and forcing the overturned carriage out of the way as he did so. The rest spurned into action, jumping onto their vehicles and setting off, guards jumping onto the sides of various caravans as they raced away from the trio. Lil’ moved to jump on as well, but the wagons rained fire at the three of them as they drove, forcing her to dive for cover. She let off a burst of rifle fire, and burst the tires of the smallest slave cart, its driver trying to jump from it onto another carriage but missing and getting crushed by the one behind it. But, Lil’ failed to hit anything else.

The trio fired at the fleeing caravan, more out of frustration than any expectation of hitting anything at this point. When it finally disappeared around a bend in the canyon path, they stopped firing. Morgan spun his revolver around his finger and slammed it hard into his holster, turning round and putting his palm to his forehead, grimacing hard, his face twisting around his hand like a bundled sheet. Rock stamped his foot and shouted out curses as if they were on sale, flinging about his arms, one gripped hard on his rifles’ receiver.

Lil’ just stood still, with her back to me, staring down the canyon, her machine gun still shouldered, almost locked in that position. Then she lowered it, letting her arms fall to her sides, dropping her weapon to the ground. Her shoulders started to rock, hunching over along with the slight sound of sobbing that carried up the canyon. She fell to her knees and slammed her fist down onto the sandy ground throwing up a bloody cloud of dust.

“Why… Why, fucking why dammit?!” she screamed, shaking her hand angrily as she pounded the ground.

I didn’t quite see what they were all so upset by, they survived after all. Not only that, the caravan left behind a bunch of supplies when they fled, so there was a lot to fence. And yet, still they moped about for some reason. After Rock had finished with his tantrum and turned back to Lil’, his fury having drained slightly from his face, giving way to a sympathetic look as he went over to console Lil’. I moved to rush back to the top of the canyon while they were distracted, if I made it up there…

But before I could put anymore thought into it, Morgan suddenly appeared in front of me, his face pulled into a flat expression. “Where do you think you’re going lad?” I opened my mouth to feed him some line to fool him, possibly bribe him, but he cut me off, “Hah, got you there. Don’t worry, they’ll appreciate you giving them some space. When they’re done, we’ll join ‘em,” he declared sagely. I nodded in response, keeping my face plain, as I cursed my poor luck. I doubt I could escape now.

“Lil’,” Rock began weakly, seemingly awkward as he tried to collect his words, “don’t feel too bad. I know you feel like this is your fault, but you tried your best! You tried to help. There-There are other opportunities to try and help those people, and those like them. But, if you give up now, there won’t be anyone left to help at all,” Rock finished his pep-talk, Lil’ not shifting from her position almost motionless, his expression stiffened somewhat then he continued, psyching himself up for a second attempt. “And hey,” trying to sound exited, “we still managed to stop one of the slave carts, so-” he kept talking, but I tuned it out, not interested in their sobbing conversation.

I started picking up the spent brass around me and pocketing it while they continued on for a minute or so, a great spectrum of calibres being strewn through the sand and rocks. Then Lil’ got to her feet, picking up her machine gun and slinging it over her back. She straightened herself up, trying to reassert her image of strength, succeeding bar the redness of her eyes and cheeks, snitching her sobbing to the world. She walked over to me and Morgan then turned to him, her face apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I-I said I’d help you free them but…” she trailed off looking down at the ground as she finished, not able to say it to his face.

“Now don’t you do that,” he snapped brusquely, his tone critical yet kind, making Lil’ look back up at him. “You tried to help, that’s what matters, ‘sides, to be honest this is about as effective as the last few attempts I made. The only difference bein’ than ‘sides from me, no one else came back. You tried to do something you thought was right and you lived through it, you’ve got no need to feel ashamed,” he stated resolutely, smiling at her as he finished, which she retuned uncertainly, nodding hard as if to steel her nerves.

“Well, let’s free the slaves in the cart then,” Lil’ declared in her usual baseless confidence, striding over to the door of the van, and yanking on handle of the back door, digging herself into the sand when it didn’t move an inch. She stood silently for a moment, not moving as we all watched her. “It’s locked,” turning around to us with a sheepish look on her face.

“Well do you see a key anywhere?” Rock asked, coming up next to her.

“No, now how are we-” before she could finish her question Morgan whisked his revolver out of its holster and shot off the lock, the hunk of metal spinning around in the sky before landing with a hard thump on the ground. “Oh, yeah…” Lil’ muttered, chuckling in embarrassment, giving Morgan a smile, which he returned with a slight smirk.

Honestly, she shot off the lock when she came for me, and yet she forgets to this time. Again, how has she survived this long.

Lil’ grabbed the door, the slight sound of shuffling and clinking metal coming from inside the wagon as she did so, though the others didn’t appear to notice. I moved to the side of the van away from the door, getting out of the way of whatever was in there. As Lil’ flung open the door she was bowled over by something that leapt from the van onto her. The other two took on tense expressions, Rock whipping out a knife from his hip, Morgan clawing his hand over his holster.

“Wait, you’re not Cain!” the, presumably, woman said, shifting herself off of Lil’ and jumping to her feet quickly, bouncing on her toes slightly. The others calmed down slightly as the threat seemed to disappear, Lil’ pulled herself up to look up at the woman. She was around 5’ with reddish blonde and black hair in a hashed bob on her head, a pair of mismatched cat ears sprouting from her hair, along with a tail twitching about her ankles displaying her Quazi heritage. She was thin but rather toned, with tanned skin on her arms and legs and exposed midriff, left bare by a tight cropped-top vest and shorts, both black in colour. Not the most practical dress to stop a bullet, but I suppose I had no room to talk.

“No, we’re not. We’re here to free you,” Lil’ wheezed back, trying to drag back her breath into her chest as she pulled herself back to her feet.

“Oh, free me,” the liberated woman repeated, tucking a tag on her wrist under the shackle it was looped around with her little finger as she spoke.

Oh, something interesting was going on here.

“Sorry, I thought you were the one who im-enslaved me. Cain,” the cat-Quazi explained. Lil’ gave a nod, the other two having properly relaxed by this point.

Rock walked over to the now empty cart as Lil’ continued to talk to the girl. “It’s perfectly understandable, don’t worry about it. Now, we’ll take you back with us to somewhere a bit safer, but I just need to have a quick chat with Rock,” she finished giving the now freed Quazi a broad smile before she walked off to join Rock in the van. I strolled up next to the new girl and kept silent for a moment, looking over at the van and the pair rustling about inside it.

“Now is the best time to run, you know,” I stated flatly, she feigned confusion in response opening her mouth to speak but I cut her off. “I don’t care what you did, or if you actually did it,” I delivered brusquely, keeping my voice low, getting a curious but wary look from the girl, “I’m not tied down to old ideas like those two are. In their mind I was in breach of one of their codes and they won’t let me leave now. Or not without a new hole in my head. So, again, now would be the best time to run my dear,” I expected her to keep questioning me and waste even more of her time, but instead she gave me a quick nod and turned, moving slowly as to not call their attention.

Finally, someone with sense.

“Stop right there.” Rock called out to her, keeping his voice level.

Oh dear...

I turned to look at him properly, as did the woman. He was aiming a pistol, one he didn’t have before, likely a Glock, at the woman. His face was calm, Lil’ looking surprised on his left, though Morgan was unfazed.

“What are you doing?” Lil’ demanded coming in close to Rock, the Quazi in question not moving.

“She wasn’t taken as a slave Lil’. She was taken as a prisoner, she’s a criminal.” He figured it out faster than I thought he would, oh well she was slow to run them.

“What?” Lil’ asked, a shocked look twisting onto her face, mixing with the anger that had barely left it.

“Here, they kept the convictions on this thing, has a picture of her as well,” Rock finished, not taking his eyes, or his aim, off the convict as he handed Lil’ a clipboard with a stack of yellowish paper. A slight smile played at the corner of my lips, pleased to see that woman fail a little bit more. I think there was word in German for this than Röhm told me: ‘Schadenfreude’. Though, despite my mirth at the situation, Lil’ clearly did not share anything of the sort. She was gritting her teeth so hard they almost sparked. Then, as fast as the anger had come to her face it was replaced by a blanket of calm, her face and her quite still. It was more disconcerting than when she was just angry.

“Again…” she almost forced the word from her lips, a hoarseness etched into the air around her as it tumbled out of her mouth. “Again,” she repeated, Rock turned to look at her, concern forming on his face. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she looked up at the sky. Then, within a moment, fury broke across her face again and she slammed the clipboard in her hand to the ground, the plyboard slab skittering off out of the way, snapping in two. “Fucking Again!” she roared, her face warped in a demonic snarl, Rock jumping at her sudden yell. I hadn’t expected it either, but I kept still, not wanting to draw her attention now.

“We tried to save people, tried to deliver freedom to those who have been enslaved and justice to those who caused it!” she rambled out furiously, throwing her arms about wildly in her tantrum as she paced around. “And who do we end up helping instead?!” she questioned violently, no one answering her, “Convicts! A serial pickpocket and a scam artist!” gesturing to each of us in turn as she continued, jabbing an accusatory finger in each of our direction though with the same feeling as a loaded gun. “What’s next?! A war criminal? A fucking fascist?!”

“Lil’ ca-” Rock called to her, but she just shouted over him.

“And I mean why? Why, out of all the people we could save, of all the people who could need our help, did it have to be you two?” a near visible cloud of anger pouring from her as she yelled.

“Rude,” I muttered sarcastically, a smirk edging itself along my lips as she continued her fit.  She whirled around at me and went for her pistol bringing it up at me, but before she could fire Rock got in-between us, putting his arms on her shoulders.

“Lil’,” he began, looking her in the yes, trying to force as much kindness and care from his voice as possible. “Calm down. I get why you’re frustrated, I am too,” Lil’ made to speak up again but he cut her off again, “But, even if they are criminals, they don’t deserve to be slaves, no one does. You told me that,” Rock assured the woman, his voice tender. Honestly, sometimes the idealism of these people was insufferable… though I do appreciate the lack of a bullet that it brought me.

“I know,” Lil’ begrudgingly replied, sighing heavily, shoving her pistol back into her holster. Rock turned to the woman, who shifted slightly but Morgan put a hand on her shoulder before she could bolt, making her jump as neither her nor I had noticed him. “I just want… I want a win! To actually manage to help people, and, I’ve just had one too many failures too often…” her voice was hollowed out of her earlier anger, rubbing her face with a hand as she fell down onto a rock on the ground.

“You will, but for now, we need to deal with these two. They’re our responsibility now,” Rock replied, likely meaning ‘problem’ more than responsibility, yet speaking somewhat warmly, despite his eyes betraying a similar exhaustion to Lil’s that simmered behind them. Lil’ nodded slowly, looking down at the ground, straightening herself up.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Lil’ stood up and walked over to the other woman, the latter for their part holding their ground and standing tall. Well, as much as she could when she was two heads taller than Lil’.

“So,” she began, looming over the Quazi, “what’s your name, pickpocket?” her tone dripping with disapproval and a sense of superiority.

“Kate,” she answered, not wincing away from Lil’.

“Kate what?”

“Just Kate,” she replied nonchalantly, but watching Lil’s movements like prey would watch for an attack from a predator. Lil’ seemed to regard her from the peak of her nose for a moment then continued.

“Well, Kate,” practically spitting her name out of her mouth “you’re with us now,” again, reaching for her pistol, to stop any possible retort form the Quazi. Kate however simply gave her a smirk and shrugged.

“’Kay,” walking over to where Rock was, leaving Lil’ with Morgan and I.

“Rock, see if you can get those handcuffs off her, I don’t want to protec-” she began to instruct her companion, but was interrupted by the sound of the cuffs thumping to the ground. Lil’ turned around to see that Kate had slipped them off herself, now popping her thumbs back into their sockets as she pressed her hands together, quite unbothered. Lil’ didn’t quite seem to know how to feel about it. I myself was quite amused, Kate seemed like she would be useful to have here.

As they continued their charade, I moved over to one of the bodies of the guards and began looking through their pockets.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Lil’ yelled to me, accompanying the beratement with the metallic sound of her cocking the hammer of her pistol.

“I’m checking for anything of value. Ammunition, cash, jewellery, and the like,” I replied coolly, continuing my search, again reminded of the oddities of my captors.

“So, you’re desecrating the dead to loot and sell their belongings,” she snapped, continuing her beratement.

Honestly, every little thing.

“Weren’t you the one who put them in this state?” I replied mockingly, a flicker of a smirk coming on my lips, causing her to fluster slightly, and cutting her off before she could retort I continued, “and did you not see them as ‘great villains’ or whatever your inane hero’s narrative defines them as? So why are you concerned about them now, it’s rather too late,” some of my exhaustion with her leaking through in my words before I could stop it.

“It doesn’t matter who they were, or what I, or anyone thought of them when they were alive. In death, all are equal. So, step away from the body,” she finished firmly, holding her pistol level to my head. I stayed where I was, not turning to face her still.

“Lil’ again there is a simple, almost universal, truth to this world that you seem entirely unaware of. What’s yours is yours only while you are still you,” I began flatly, leering up at her from the corner of my eyes, “there is no place in this word for a democracy of the dead, that is Gods’ charge! Look around you,” finally turning around to her and gesturing around to the various bodies strewn about the canyon path, “what do you see? Corpses? Men and women? Wrong. All that lays there now is treasure for carrion, crow and man. That is all that is abandoned here, not people, just lost things and food for the scavenger,” the rest, that went to God I concluded, though only to myself. I looked back to her as I finished, and her face was pressed into a hard grimace, having already decided in her head that this plain truth was wrong to her.

“Disregarding the lies you just yelled about, what in your grand rant justifies robbing these people?” I disregarded her insistence of the corpses being people, knowing she wouldn’t budge on it.

“They don’t need it, and you or I could make far better us of it,” I replied, wondering how she couldn’t see something so obvious, but, before she could snap back at me I continued. “How many dozens of rounds did you use in that fight? How much energy did you burn, how thirsty did it make you? How many wounds do you need to let heal? This is what you get in return, it’s no different as skinning an animal you just killed to sell the pelt. Your reward for victory!” I insisted, slightly exhausted with her brazen rejection of fact. Her face betrayed her lingering dissatisfaction with the idea, so I continued, trying to play to her neuroses. “Besides if you don’t take it, then the next person who comes along will. And chances are they will be someone who you would call a ‘great villain’,” not able to hold back a somewhat mocking tone as I finished.

Again, her face twisted in displeasure, opening her mouth to let out a retort before Morgan put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her, “Leave it hon…”

“Why, after all he’s said-”

“Because he has a point,” a simple finality in his words silencing her instantly, “most everyone does this kind of thing, it’s necessary to survive. You want to help people, do some good and help the world? Well, you don’t get to be a saint, that’s only the title, not the job description.”

“I… I can’t. How can I justify this, how can anyone justify robbing the dead? Rifling through someone’s pockets for loose change or ammunition just to turn a profit is just wrong!” Morgan looked at Lil’ as she finished and sighed calmly, a smile pulling at his cheeks.

“You are too kind for your own good, hon, too kind…”

No, she was just someone without a Tsar in her head.

“But, if it bothers you that much, just let Mr Lemoni here do it for you. He’s willing and knows what to look for after all,” at this Lil’ took on a hurt expression, almost insulted. I gave a small smile to myself, pleased that at least one of these three had some basic sense for once. Though irritated by the possible nock to my profits.

“What are you talking about? I just said how I couldn’t justify anyone doing this, not just me, and your first suggestion is to have Asriel, a criminal, do it for me?! That doesn’t solve the issue, George!”

The old man sighed and looked to her again, “Dear, I get that, but unfortunately, you are in the minority view for this. For most everyone it is a necessary means to survive, you aren’t excluded form that by virtue of wanting to do good. If you can’t do it yourself, you’ll need someone to do it for you. Both Lemoni and Kate here are ready and willing for it, so why not use them? They are in your care after all.”

Lil’s expression than twisted itself into even greater anger before shouting out, “Use them?! I’m not using prison labour!”

“Oh hon,” sighing exasperatedly as he spoke, dragging his palm over his face, “they’re going to do it regardless of what you say or do, so just take what you can to help those who you haven’t reached yet, and won’t reach if you don’t survive long enough.” Lil’ opened her mouth to complain more but Morgan put up a hand to stop her, his face understanding, with what must have seemed to Lil’ a cruel kindness. “Hon, please,” she stalled for a second, running it over in her head, her face showing her mental conflict.

“...Ok. Fine,” she whispered back hoarsely. finally, honestly, she made elephants of flies so often. “But Asriel, Kate,” she added, addressing the both of us, “if your try anything,” making a show of racking her pistol and catching the steel cased bullet that flew out of it - odd that she used steel cased bullets - in her hand and walked away, her message clear as she went off.

“Зуб даю,”[4] I called quietly attempting to sound as cordial as possible as I continued to rifle through the man’s pockets, pulling out half a dozen rounds of .45 ACP and a single hand-made magazine and a, frankly untrustworthy looking, pistol, made of bent steel and iron, its grips made of hand-whittled wood. A couple hundred Note, roughly 480 as well as a knife made from shattered plastic and thick electrical tape. I tucked all of this into my pockets, along with some nails from his armour - useful for anything - and moved to the next body. Conveniently landing close to where Kate was also scavenging, flitting through a woman’s pockets, lifting a trio of smaller bills and magazines.

“Didn’t quite manage to get away then?” I began, not hiding the cheek in my voice. She glowered at me agitatedly and snapped back the bite in her voice clear in the air.

“Well at least I actually tried to, unlike you!” I chuckled slightly in response, causing the feline Quazi to look slightly confused.

“They already know what I’ve done, and judged me by whichever of their dead ideals of their choosing. They won’t let me run. But you, they hadn’t figured you out yet. If you had ran, they would’ve likely chalked it up to fear or something else. They’d shoot me the moment I tried,” I finished dismissively, a look of irritated distain on my features, her expression becoming worried as I finished. “Their ‘justice’, it’s odd, no?” I questioned, giving her a small smile as I finished.

“What did you do then?” Kate asked, glancing up at me as she continued to go through the guard’s pockets. I thought about it for a moment, lifting a scuffed watch from the wrist of the man before me, checking the time as I did so, though the thing was ten minutes too slow.

“I was doing business in Radiant, town South-East from here, but the leaders of the town didn’t like what I was doing so arrested me on some trumped up charges. Then those two, the Woman and the tanned Quazi, intercepted me as I was in transport, but, they then decided I was in breach of their moral code or something. So, here I am.”

“They said something about you being a scam artist,” she supplemented, making me twitch slightly, but I suppressed my agitation before she could notice.

“That,” pulling a bundle of notes out from under the guard’s belt, “is their assessment. But as you have likely surmised, they are both without a Tsar in their head,” she gave me an odd look for a second before I explained my expression, “not, all there.” She nodded and gave a slight chuckle, a slight nervousness in her voice.

“Now, as we are both in the charge of our, oh-so-just jailers, I feel that we both could come to an arrangement,” I began, honeying my voice. she looked at me oddly for a second not quite getting what I meant.

“What do you mean?” Kate asked, her face becoming curious but still watching me with undisguised caution. I gave her a small smile, keeping a genial look on my face.

“We seem to be of similar minds in regards to our, methods of economic advancement. I believe it would be to our advantage to, compliment each other’s skills,” she just gave a confused look in return, cocking her head to the side like Lil’. I almost gave a sigh, but I caught myself and added, “I think we should work together.”

“Oh,” realisation coming on her face, “in what way? I understand that I could probably ste- acquire things for you, but how can you help me?” she asked cautiously. I smiled up at Kate, standing up and moving to a body across from her, a woman, her head blown clean off and a hole bored through her left breast, and looked Kate straight in the face.

“My dear, I am a businessman, there are a lot of things I can do.  Whatever trade I do, or deals I make, that you helped with, you will get more than your fair share,” I replied, pulling a thick wad of bills from the woman’s breast pocket, and splaying the bloodstained notes in my hand like a fan, “that, is how I can help you, and you know how you can help me,” I concluded, offering her a small smile, as I fanned myself with the bloodied notes. Her face shifted, clearly considering it. I snapped the notes back into a wad, and slipped them into my jacket pocket, continuing to go through the woman’s pockets. “With our jailers watching us, a bit of subterfuge will be essential of course. It would be inconvenient for both of us if they ever figured out what was actually going on, wouldn’t you agree?”

I pulled a pistol from the woman’s holster, a rusty Berretta 92F, along with a photo of a young girl, I wiped some blood from my hands with the photo before tossing it aside and pocketing the pistol. “Well, do we have a deal?” I asked, giving as wide a smile as I could without baring my teeth, and putting my hand out to her while hiding my palm. She raised her arm up gingerly, hesitation betraying an internal conflict, but she sorted it herself then shook my hand. I cupped hers with my free hand and shook it vigorously. “Великолепный!”[5] I declared happily. She looked nervous for a second, but seemed to quickly push it to the back of her mind.

“Now, let’s finish with this, remember not to keep too much, as we are technically doing this for those two,” gesturing to Lil’ and Rock with my gaze. Kate gave a quick nod, pulling out a crude looking drum magazine off the man in front of her, its partner’s stock having spit down the grain, not much use now.

We looted all the bodies after a short while, just shy of fourty of them, including the three I had delt with. I must remember to make sure the tail doesn’t rot: it was his settlement after all. It’ll have some value to a collector, or as dog food. We gave the lions share - not the tail, heh - to Lil’ and Rock, giving them the bare minimum of good quality loot to throw off suspicion. In total there were twenty-three various different handguns of sixteen different chamberings. People often had them as personal effects, rather than being issued by their gang or otherwise, it was hard to standardise in the apocalypse. There were thirty-six rifles, generally different makes, but keeping to similar chamberings on the same sections of the caravan. But really, most of them were really only good for parts. Along with that there were two dozen sets of various armours, of varying quality, but they could all be useful, even if only as parts.

As for ammunition, there were a few hundred rounds of varying calibres, from 9x19mm, .45ACP, 5.56 and 7.62 NATO along with tons of others, personally pocketing the spent brass strewn about for myself. We also got a great number of personal effects, watches, rings jewellery and the like, with a total of 14,561 Note collected from all of the bodies.

They weren’t the wealthiest of people, but guards never tended to be. That’s why they were so easy to bribe.

I laid out the smaller items on a crate they had overturned in front of them for a table. I put most of the loot on the table, but keeping a good bit for me and Kate, putting 9061 Note on the table for the pair, hiding away the rest for Kate and I. Lil’ looked at the spread of items before her, her gaze hard, an expression like she was sat on a bed of hot coals, wincing as she battled herself in her mind. But after a few boring moments, she closed her eyes and grabbed all of the 7.62 NATO as well as half of the .38 ACP.

“Thank you,” she forced out irately, almost trying to spit the words out of her mouth. I gave her a polite smile in response, to her undisguised displeasure.

“Uh, which-which one of these stacks is the nine mil’?” Rock asked, gesturing broadly to the piles of ammunition.

“What kind?” I asked, turning to him.

“What do you mean?”

I regarded him flatly, unsure of whether he was joking or not. “I mean what specific type of 9mm ammunition do you want. We’ve got 9x19 Parabellum, 9x18 Makarov, 9x20 Browning… there are a few in this stack,” he looked at me with a confused expression, a bit of agitation bleeding through.

“I just want nine millimetre, not anything extra,” Rock insisted irritably, I looked at him, keeping my face stiff to hide my abject fury with him. How did they last this long, at this point they were summoned by the devil to not lose despite their stupidity. Before I had to continue trying to explain it to him, Lil’ snatched up most of the 9x19 Parabellum.

“It’s 9x19 Parabellum your carbine uses Rock,” dumping most of it into his satchel.

“Oh, thanks,” he replied sheepishly to Lil’, ignoring me entirely. Then they started to pack up the rest of the stuff while Morgan wandered between the wreckages, rather absent mindedly, occasionally lifting something from one of the bodies, spinning his revolver around his finger.

“And Azzy,” Lil’ suddenly broke in, not giving me a chance to protest the nickname before she came in close and continued, “if you pull your little trick with this ammunition,” grabbing my shoulder as she spoke did, she pressed her thumb deep into my collar bone, the bone itself groaning in protest, “there will be problems.”

“Of course,” I replied, responding to her threat with a small smile, “but please, don’t call it a ‘trick’,” I finished levelly, not reacting to her attempted intimidation. She gave me a hard look for a few seconds, her expression locked into a stern countenance of arbitrary displeasure and agitation. Then she let go of me and turned back to Rock and Morgan, not letting her expression shift at all.

Rock continued to pack up the rifles and armour as Lil’ went and thanked Morgan, and asked what he wanted, but he waived off her offers, saying he was ‘simply happy to have been able to help’.

Honestly, what was wrong with these people?

He ended up taking some armour nails and loose ammunition at Lil’s instance, but didn’t seem at all bothered with it. Rock finished loading up both his and Lil’s packs and pulled his own back onto his back, then tossed the pistol from the prisoner cart over to Kate, along with a pair of spare magazines, which she deftly snatched form the air.

“You’ve got to defend yourself while you’re with us,” Rock called back, beginning to walk away as Kate loaded the pistol quickly, “but, if you try and use it against us. I’ll rip your fucking throat out and strangle you with it,” he informed her, fixing her with a dark look, his face serious. Kate nodded back at him, a bead of sweat forming on her brow, he stared at us over his shoulder for a moment, the dark look in his eyes landing at our feet like a live grenade, but it quickly disappeared as he turned back to Lil’ following after her and Morgan.

Just as we began to leave, I lifted a cap from one of the less mangled bodies, a baseball cap with fabric stapled round the back to protect the neck, and tossed it to Kate. She caught it from behind her then gave both it and me a questioning look. “To protect you from the sun. It wouldn’t do for you to get heatstroke, now would it,” giving her a slight smile as I finished, she gave a weak one in return, and put it on, though not hiding her caution as she adjusted her ears underneath it. We hiked back over the mountain, Lil’, Rock and Morgan all discussing various topics, but none were of any real interest. The sun was maliciously marching to its peak in the sky when we finally descended the mountain, waiting under an outcropping of rock for the worst of the sunlight to pass. Lil’, for once, not making any protests. While we waited well all stared to refill our spent magazines, Lil’ showing the most skill at it compared to the other two, actually loading Rock’s magazines as well. Kate herself, cut a pair of earholes in her new hat, finding it much more comfortable.

After around three-quarters of an hour later Lil’ stood up and started out into the sun, still too early, but Morgan pulled himself to his feet and began to lead the way regardless. I guess her patience had worn thin. There weren’t any claprabbits that we could see on our way back, though we saw some figures in the distance tearing at their carcasses. They hadn’t noticed us so we gave them a wide berth on the way back.  I chatted on and off with Kate, but she seemed resistive to talk about herself at this point. Not that she’d made a poor decision considering, but it was irritating.

We arrived back in Hoodoo a while later, the longer route making us arrive around half three, the sun still hammering down blistering rays of light. Though at least we’d managed to avoid the worst of it under the shade. As we entered the town from the west side this time, we saw the cluttered together fields that flanked the town, jumping off the back of houses and filled with various grains, vegetables and sickly fruit trees, all quite pale and dry looking, though that wasn’t unexpected.

Standing on a raised platform above one of the fields were Bullet and Max, the former looking all around us as we approached, looking for people, giving a mournful grimace upon seeing only Kate. But he quickly forced it off his face before anyone could really notice, and climbed down the platform, helping Max down the ladder, the latter struggling with his leg, and walked over to us. As he approached, the mayor put a great smile on his face, Max matching him with his own.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he called out, catching Lil’ by surprise, opening her mouth to make a retort, but he cut her off by reaching out a hand to Mogan and pulling him into a quick embrace, both of them patting each other on the back. Then he turned to Lil’ and Rock, his expression becoming much sterner and more level. “So, didn’t go as well as you hoped then?” making considerable effort to not let his agitation with the pair pour out of his words, only his eyes betraying him. Not that Lil�� had the sense to notice it.

Though she also didn’t need much prodding to be thrown into a rage anyway. “No, it didn’t, thanks for the fucking after-action report Bullet,” and away she went with her hair trigger temper, “but I would greatly appreciate it right now if you would keep your cowardly little trap shut!” she barked back, people working in the surrounding fields, or patrolling around turned to look over at the commotion Lil’ was creating, curious looks on their faces. Both Kate and I backed up slightly, not wanting to be associated with whatever was going to happen next.

“The hell’s that supposed ta’ mean?” Bullet inquired critically, yet oddly not insulted.

“You know exactly what it means you yellow cunt. You don’t get to make comments about what I did in an attempt to do what’s right when you stayed back in your safe little town and left all of those people to their fate!” Lil’ yelled, her face going red as she shouted in his face.

“I was protecting the people of this town!” he shouted back at her, Lil’ attempting to make a retort but he cut her off, “whatever good you were trying to do by helping those people, which you clearly didn’t deliver on, would be outweighed by what the slavers will do to everyone here, slave or not, to avenge their losses! And when they do, you’ll have already buggered off to save the next group you decided needed help over everyone else! And don’t you dare try and deny it,” he leered at her hard for a moment, the woman stunned into silence.

“Whatever kindness or justice you think you carry with you,” Bullet continued, his face draining of its fury, but remaining stern, “you need to be aware of the suffering that it can, and has, left in your wake. And because of that… Lil’, Rock, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you stay after what you did,” he said solemnly, not waiting for the other two to respond, “if the slavers see you here after what you did, they’ll raze this place to the ground. The rest of you are welcome to stay if you want to,” Bullets face becoming sorrowful as he finished, almost hollow. Before either Kate or I could move forward to take his offer, the opportunity to get out of the pair’s clutches quite enticing, I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. I looked up to see Rock gripping both of our shoulders, an insulted expression pulled tight over his face, as he glanced at both of us his expression clearly saying ‘don’t you try it’.

“As if we’d let you take them!” Lil’ snarled back, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you’d just hand them off to the slavers to save your own skin! wouldn’t you?!” she accused, jabbing hard at his chest as she spoke, Bullet not budging at all. “And what about you all?” she continued, rounding on the onlookers who had accumulated around them, “Are you just going to stand by as this coward abandons all those people?!”

Oh, this wasn’t going to end well.

“What the hell do you know?!” One of them, a medium sized man yelled, his hair was quite dark, with a somewhat Latino complexion, a slight Mexican accent in his voice, “you turn up out of the blue, galivanting and proud, and criticise us for trying our hardest to survive!” the man yelled at her from one of the fields, his face scrunched up in anger, lined by age and dirt.

“Then you start cursing out our Mayor for trying to protect us, for doing what we trusted and asked for him to do! He’s saved my life and my son’s countless times, and yet you call him a coward. Just because he won’t abandon us and his duties to piss off a massive militia with you, on the basis of saving some strangers who’d string all of us up to save their own skins?!” A woman yelled out from one of the fields, her son stood by her, clutching her hand with thin arms.

“Oi cabrón, I escaped from those slavers, and Bullet protected me from them when I came here, same for dozens of others here. He wouldn’t give anyone up you cunt! Where were you when we all needed help? Nowhere! So, you can fuck right off!”[6] a man yelled out from a different watchtower, flipping her off as he finished. Then the rest of the onlookers suddenly joined in, yelling out at Lil’, berating her, herself taken aback, her anger slowly shifting to shock.

“All right everyone calm down!” someone called, cutting through the shouting, though nobody noticed at first. “Calm down!” they called out again, bringing the crowd to silence, revealing it was Bullet who had piped up with the order. “Thank you, everyone, that’s enough, it’s fine. Go back to your business, I’ll handle this,” he requested, a comforting smile on his face as he looked at his people, motioning for everyone to calm down with his hands, putting himself between them and Lil’. A large amount of the crowd peeled off, going back to their fields or their patrols, giving Lil’ dirty looks as they went.

“Are you sure?” the same woman from earlier asked, her son waiving at Bullet as they approached, Bullet returning it with a smile and a small wave of his own.

“Yes, don’t worry about me, just go about your day as normal, I apologize for the disturbance,” the woman gave him a reassured smile and walked off into the town, a basket of items under one arm. Those nearby still turned the odd look our way, but mostly got back to their work on the fields, patrolling about or moving around various supplies.

Then Bullet turned back to Lil’, his face falling into a stern grimace again, the smile he gave his people vanishing from his face. “Now, again. I’m asking you to leave,” Lil’ opened her mouth to say something but Bullet just put his hand in front of her face, stopping her. “Just go, now. Don’t make me force you, please,” he finished, looking at her quietly for a cold, unshifting moment, Lil’ for once not saying anything. Then he turned away from her, not waiting for her response, and started back into the town, picking up a burlap sack of something from the ground and hiking it up onto his shoulder as he went back.

Lil’ stood still for a long while, then suddenly huffed in anger, or indignation and whirled around, storming forward off into the desert, not in the direction of the car, just out into open sand. “Lil? Where are you going?” Rock called to her, concern clear in his voice, matched by his expression.

“I just need a moment to myself: I’ll meet you at the car. Take care of those two,” she called back, her voice monotone, almost dismissive, not turning to face him as she spoke. Rock watched her walk off, silent, his expression still warped in concern.

She got exactly what she deserved, less in all likelihood. It’ll do her some good to have the rug pulled out from under her like this, maybe she’ll learn. But chances are that they will convince themselves that they are the victims in this situation, and were ‘in the right’.

After a while Rock snapped himself out of his stupor, and strode forward, gesturing stiffly for us to follow him, his fingers dancing over the grip of his pistol as he walked. Both Kate and I followed on after him, flanking him on both sides, but, as we came to the North East corner of Hoodoo, someone started calling out Rock’s name. I turned my head to where the voice was coming from to see Max hurrying over to us, struggling to run in his leg brace, his bare feet kicking up clouds of dust as he approached up a path to us.

“What do you want?” Rock snapped out, almost spitting his words into Max’s face, Max giving an incensed expression in return.

“I wanted to ask you to forgive Bullet,” he replied, his underbite treating his words as before. Rock took on an insulted expression, one blistering with rage, as if someone has said something truly foul to him.

“Forgive him? He’s fucking condoning slavery, that’s something that can’t be forgiven!” snarling out his words, anger etched deep in his eyes.

“And you’re putting an entire town of hundreds in the crosshairs of a highly armed, and highly vengeful group, all for a personal vendetta, then scurrying off somewhere else to avoid the fallout of your actions,” Max shot back, jabbing his clawed finger into Rocks vest, the latter batting it away irritably, “we’ve all got our sins,” Max declared heavily, his tone level as he finished, his eyes glinting like a razors’ edge with agitation.

Rock shook his head in what looked like disbelief, then turned away, clicking his tongue as he retreated. “He wasn’t planning on doing that, you know,” Max called out after him, Rock stopping in his tracks, his face hidden, “ban you from the town I mean. That was ‘cause of your Lil’s doing. We were going to offer protection to you and whoever you saved. We trusted that you would save at least a few people, but, after you showed how little you care for this town, and how you react to the slightest criticism… It seems our trust was misplaced.”

At this Rock whirled around, his expression feral, baring his teeth at Max. “You fucking misplaced your trust?! How about the trust we wildly misplaced ours in you and Bullet. I heard you were a fucking slave too, and yet you’re content to sit here, while people like us suffer. Or where you just too caught up with sticking your cock up that bastard’s ass?!” he spat, getting up in Max’s face, grabbing at his shirt. Max’s face flushed red, grit his teeth and punched Rock hard in the face, flinging him onto the ground, a few of the Quazi’s freckle-like scales scattering to the ground as his cheek started to bleed from where they had torn off. A few people looked out of their windows as the commotion got louder.

Rock sucked in some air through his gritted teeth, hissing in pain, as max moved in front of him, towering over the dark skinned Quazi sprawled on the ground, clutching at his wounded cheek. “You do not get to talk like you know me. That man personally saved my life, defending me from whoever, or whatever, tried to hurt me, and the same is true for everyone who came here looking for sanctuary,” he spoke his voice lowered to a gravely tone, his leg brace creaking slightly as he mentioned being saved.

I couldn’t see Rock’s expression, Max standing between us. I motioned to Kate that now would be a good time to run, take the car and floor it. But, again I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see Morgan’s stern face, a knowing look in his eyes. Honestly twice in the same hour, do those two erode luck or something.

“Like I’d believe that after what happened today, you’re all just trying to save your own skin by trying to get us to stay so you can hand us over when the slavers come a ‘nocking,” Rock retorted, pulling himself back up to glare at Max.

“Like what you believe matters, you asinine fucking gecko,” Max growled back, a sneer on his face, looking at Rock over the tip of his nose. Rock looked furious at the insult, but before he could respond, Max stuck out his arm and pointed out of the town with a clawed finger. “Go, and expect a punch or a bullet round your head if you ever come back,” he ordered, his voice low and clear, drained of any ounce of kindness in regard to the man sprawled on the ground in front of him. Rock opened his mouth to say something but Max just roared, “I said fucking go! Or I will put a bullet through your scaly fucking skull!” whisking his pistol from his holster and pressing it against Rocks’ crown, holding it sideways, his expression hidden to us.

Rock backed up slightly, his face twitching in fear, but then he spun around, twisting onto his feet, and stomped away, clicking his tongue. “Fine!” he called back, slouching forward agitatedly, “I’d gladly not spend another second talking to a slaver supporter’s lap dog!” Max twitching slightly at the insult, but lowering his pistol anyway. “You two,” Max called over to us, “get over here. Now!” twitching his hand slightly over his pistols holster as he jerked his head for us to follow Rock. Kate strode forward before I could do anything, and I doubted I could get rid of Rock and live through it on my own, even with the other two here. That man would likely take me with him, the spiteful bastard. Not only does he hold me prisoner, he gets me exiled from a town because he can’t keep his mouth shut.

So, I walked briskly up to Kate and Rock, planning to ask the former why she didn’t just shoot the latter while his back was turned, though Morgan was likely the answer. Speaking of, as Rock fled the town with his metaphorical tail between his legs, he turned back to look at Morgan, I followed his gaze from the corner of my eye. The old man was stood where he had stopped Kate and I, no less strong or proud in his stance, but his face bearing a broken look of disappointment, one that was aimed squarely at Rock.

Rock looked at him with a hopeful expression, a weak smile crossing his face, but Morgan did not return it. He shook his head and turned, walking back into the town, still shaking his head in disappointment. Rock took on a hurt expression, doubt advancing across his face till he crushed it under a bombardment of his usual self-righteous anger, twisting his mouth into a fanged snarl, clicking his tongue again and stormed of in the direction of the car -gesturing for us to follow him with his left arm, his right hand still hovering over his holster, his fingers remarkably steady.

We continued on to the car, both Kate and I following behind Rock till, just as we got out of sight of the town, the latter demanded we walk in front of him, pulling out his mish-mash of a rifle, and holding it close to his chest as we walked, the sun slowly slipping into its evening wear. When we arrived at the car, both Kate and I sat behind the car, trying to make use of the shade that formed between the two hills the car was hid between. Rock on the other hand sat near the crest of one hill, peering over it out into the plains that Lil’ had wandered into, flicking his head about occasionally, like an abandoned puppy. I turned to Kate, the woman laying herself out in the sun, oddly, a piece of cloth draped over her face as she lazed in the sun like, well, a cat.

Rather obvious now that I think about it… Anyway.

“So, Kate, why didn’t you shoot Rock when he was spouting all of that drivel at Max?” I enquired, my voice falling into a hollow kindness, she stiffened in response, like a chill had flicked up her spine, before answering from under the cloth.

“I didn’t think I could hit him before he got me, my magazines aren’t that full at the moment either, then there was Morgan…” her voice trailed off as she listed of as many excuses as she could think of. I looked at her blankly, her expression masked by the scrap of cloth on her face, but she couldn’t see my face either. I looked at her quietly for a moment before giving a light sigh and peeking over the boot of the car at Rock.

They laid on the hill, his back to the sun, his face being masked in a light shadow, holding his weapon loosely in his grip, his head and eyes twitching about as they scoured the empty land in front of him. But there was an absent mindedness in his watch, he was distracted, likely about his spat with Max.

I turned to look at Kate, “Get your pistol ready, but do it quietly,” I whispered, the woman gave a start, snapping up into a sitting position, the cloth on her face falling off into her lap.

“What? What for? What’s happening?” a surprised and rather panicked, expression pulled across her face, her eyes darting about quickly for a threat, pulling out her pistol and keeping it by her thigh.

“Our jailer over there, is on his own, and distracted. Now would be the best time to try and do away with him,” I explained, keeping my voice low as I spoke, she gave me an uncertain look, looking over at him as well.

“I don’t know, he’s got that… rifle?”

“Submachine gun, maybe a PDW,” I corrected quickly.

“Anyway, he’s got that, an all I’ve got is a pistol, I don’t know what you’ve got, but I doubt that it’ll do much for our chances.”

“Yes, that’s true. But, there’s only one of him, we have cover, and besides all we need is one good shot, to the head, upper body, all of which is currently very exposed to us. Do that, then we can take the car and decide where to go after that,” I explained, trying to put as much sweetness in my words as I could muster to try and convince her. The feline Quazi’s expression slowly being pried from the grip of her own uncertainty, her trigger finger twitching about the side of her pistol.

But, just as she nearly decided, I heard the sound of heavy steps coming up behind Rock and turned to look, gesturing for Kate to tuck up against the car. Oh, of course. Behind him was the unfortunately familiar shape of Lil’, her expression hidden in shadow like Rock.

“Where are they?” she suddenly asked in a hoarse voice, startling Rock.

“Oh, there down by the car-” Rock began, pointing to the car, but stopped as he looked up at her, leaving his arm in the air for a moment. Dammit, if only she had come a bit later, or Kate had moved faster. Well… another time then, putting my hand on top of Kate’s pistol, signalling for her to put it away. There was little to no chance of taking both of them out, I half expected that woman to be bulletproof simply to spite me.

“You alright Lil’?” Rock asked, still sat on the ground as Lil’ walked down the hill, concern etched deep into his voice.

“Yeah, just found some unfriendly creatures while I was walking,” she answered, straining her words through her own hoarse voice as she answered.  As she came down, she came properly into view, and revealed a gruesome sight. She was drenched in blood, sloshing out of gaping wounds from bites and slashes, her left hand gripped around a pair of jaws she’d pulled from something to beat it with, the rear bones shattered and bloody. She looked as if she had just crawled out from a bear’s stomach, and smelled like it too.

“Are you sure you’re ok Lil’, you look a bit… Bloody,” Rock asked, standing up and hurrying over to her, whatever was distracting him now far from his mind.

“Yeah, I’m just going to change clothes then we can go, preferably to a town with baths or something,” Lil’ answered, straining her voice as she came up to the car, and walked over to the boot.

“May I recommend Atost?” I called up from the shade just as they came into view, Rock glowering at me irritated by my interruption, “they have a bathhouse in the centre of town, and it’s quite good if you want to trade off everything that we got from the caravan,” I finished, giving my best smile.

Rock opened his mouth to protest but Lil’ cut him off, “sure, we’ll go there then,” she responded in a monotone voice, opening the boot of the car as she did so.

“Splendid, I’ll give you the dire-” I began, but I was cut off before I could finish when she pulled her pistol from her holster and shot just in front of my feet, shutting me up, both Kate and Rock flinching slightly.

“I’m changing, go behind the hill until I tell you,” she instructed, looking at me flatly, keeping her pistol aimed at me.

“Yes…” I replied, slightly nervously, not having expected that. I turned and made for behind the hill, Kate following after.

“Rock, go with them to make sure they don’t run off while we’re not looking.”

“Ah, yes, ‘course,” he replied, somewhat shakily before moving up to us, jogging slightly to catch up.

“And don’t you peak either!” she added, making the him blush furiously, looking down at his feet as he bit his lip.

“Yes,” he spoke meekly, more to himself. We sat behind the hill for a while, waiting for her to be done, all silent, not having anything to say.

As we were marched, Kate looked up at Rock and asked, “you do know I’m a girl too, right?” the question making me snort slightly from laughter before I could stop myself.

“Of course, she probably just doesn’t want to have to guard you while she’s changing,” Rock replied irately, again blushing slightly, giving me a dirty look.

“Fair enough,” Kate said, leaning back against the hill and twisting an old coin through her fingers. I checked the time and saw it was almost quarter past five, Lil’ having wandered for over an hour, and that we’d loose daylight in a few hours. After ten minutes I was starting to wonder whether she had just keeled over from blood loss.

“Ok, you can come back now.”

Dammit, still alive.

I stood up and we all went over. She was wearing a grey shirt, the collar unbuttoned, and most of the buttons replaced with bullet cases welded end to end, well they were easier to get than buttons I suppose, and some camo shorts, laden with pockets, a few armour plates on her arms, and a number of bandages on her legs and hands, a bandana holding her hair back, it still matted with blood as it was also smeared all over her face and hands still, the same pair of boots on her feet, though likely with different socks.

“You look nice,” Rock commented, slightly nervously, holstering his rifle on his back as both Kate and I walked over to the car.

“Thank you, now all I need is a shower, and a drink,” pulling a bottle of water from the back of the car, a swing top bottle, the water inside likely near boiled, a pop from the bottle’s pressure as she opened it confirming it. After she took a long draught from it, she gasped slightly, and wiped her mouth with the back of a bandaged hand. “So, Asriel, where’s this Atost place?” she demanded, slamming the boot of the car closed as she came over to me and Kate.

“North East of here, near Optima Lake in what used to be Oklahoma, but don’t go straight that way, we’ve got to sort of go up a bit then we can go that way. Else we’ll end up going through raider territory. The area around Amarillo is rife with them, and the bigger gangs work out of Amarillo itself,” I explained, not wanting to have to go through there with these two. Though Kate would probably be fine.

“Amarillo, you mean where there was that massacre?” Rock asked, getting into the driver’s seat.

“While that doesn’t really narrow it down at all, yes, that one,” I replied darkly, Rock giving a grimace at my response.

“Avoid Amarillo, got it,” Lil’ repeated pulling up a map from out of the glovebox of the car, one scrawled with the names of post war settlements and towns over the names of now likely dead places.

“Well then, we should start off now, make use of what daylight we can. We’ll have to give the car a break during the night, let the motor cool, then we’ll start back off in the early morning. You two, stay in the back, if you try to run,” placing her hand just above her now blood-stained holster, “well, you know by now I assume,” she finished, fixing a dark frown at us as she opened the passenger door, both Kate and I bundling into the back.

Rock started the engine, the car rattling itself to life, and almost apart by the sound of it, until it seemed to settle, Rock driving off up North, the sun striking at us from the left, though I blocked out the window with one of my jackets. As they drove Lil’ turned on the radio and started searching for a working station to listen too, eventually finding one that was playing old recordings of plays.

‘…And the next play will be ‘Macbeth’ by Shakespeare. Please enjoy.’

[1]Три- Translated: Three

 Ли́ния - Transliterated: liniya

[3] Ёлки-палки Pronounced: yolki-palki Meaning, Fir-trees and sticks, an exclamation of displeasure, excitement, anger or anything of the like

[4] Зуб даю Pronounced: Zub dat’ Meaning I give you my tooth, used as promise, saying they are so confident in their words they would give you their tooth if it was false.

[5] Великолепный Pronounced: velicolepin Meaning splendid [In this case] also can be read as magnificent, glorious, stunning, superb. Adjective format.

[6] Literally Spanish for ‘male goat’ but in this case means ‘Bastard’

[smokeybrandreviews]

Paradise Falls

I’ve been relatively quiet about The Last of Us adaption because i wanted to wait until the thing ended to really dig into that content. However, the third episodes absolutely shattered that plan. I watched the thing Sunday evening. Sat on it. And then watched it again yesterday. It is f*cking exceptional. Seriously, episode three of The Last of Us is, without a doubt, some of the best television i have seen in me entire thirty-eight years on this planet. Everything about this episode was near perfect. Everything. All of it. From the direction to the cinematography to the use of silence and color to the writing and even the editing; This episode of TLoU was so brilliantly constructed, i was left speechless. It is a work of art. A technical masterpiece in terms of television production. And that’s just praising the actual meat and bones of the production, itself. The performances in this thing are what really sell it. The performances make all of the other aforementioned brilliance, look dull.

I’ll get to Nick Offerman in a hot second because, holy sh*t, but i need to take some time and give credit to Murray Bartlett. Goddamn, did he imbue this version of Frank with such emotional weight. He loved. He hated. He LIVED. All of this was given to us in the span of one hour, deftly demonstrated by Bartlett. Frank, in the game, is little more than character development for Bill. He’s a corpse when we finally see him. We never really see him alive or interacting with the love of his post-apocalyptic life. We are told all of this. The adaption SHOWED us all of that. Frank is a fully realized character, smarmy and sarcastic, but genuine in his earnestness. He is brazenly honest, living his life on his own terms, even surrounded by the emptiness of the apocalypse. I love the fact that we got time with Frank and i am so glad that Bartlett was able to make us care for a character that was little more than a course on a floor in a video game level. That said, as much as i enjoyed Bartlett’s Frank, for one episode, this was Nick Offerman’s show.

Bill is so much better a character in this adaption and that has everything to do with how Offerman portrayed this character. Bill in the game is kind of a dick. A life defending his oasis in a sea of plague will do that. Offerman definitely brings shads of that curmudgeon i know from the game but he is able to give Bill so much more humanity. The is an emotional nuance to Bill in this show that you don’t necessarily get in the game because it’s a game. You don’t send time with characters like you have the potential to do in a straight forward narrative. We got a whole hour with Bill and, later, Frank. We got to see them meet, fall in love, and live a life. A life where they grew old together. A life that was satisfying. And an end to that life which was much more meaningful than living on without his love. His purpose. Nick Offerman delivered a performance i had no idea was within him. This sh*t is star-making. This sh*t gets recognition. Seriously, if Nick Offerman doesn’t get a not from the Emmys or the Globed, we riot in the street. Ron Swanson came with the goddamn heat and he deserves gold for it.

In terms of the show, i still want to reserve judgment until this first season concludes but, these first three episodes? F*cking bravo. Pedro Pascal is a fantastic Joel and Anna Torv really stole the show as Tess. I was upset she met her end so goddamn quickly. Definitely wanted at least three or four episodes before she kicked the bucket. Ellie is still a question mark for me. I like Bella Ramsey as an actress and, in terms of performance, she’s fantastic, don’t misunderstand me, but this doesn’t feel like the Ellie i know. I see shades of her in there but so far, it’s ringing foul to me. We’ll see as time progresses but, overall, i love this show. The Last of Us is really f*cking food an i did not expect that sh*t coming out of Sony. I imagine HBO has a heavy hand in the quality we’re getting because, i mean, Morbius happened. Also, i just want to go ahead and say, out loud, the best thing about this show are the flashbacks and cold opens. Like, f*ck, dude, that very first one? Are you kidding me? If you're not watching The Last of Us, you're f*cking up bud.

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