A Momentary Calm

[TheWordsOfTyr]

"Meat is meat, right?" She grumbled across the campfire, gleaming blue eyes fixated on the slowly rotating hunk of meat.

"No. There's a big difference between a slab Stomper steak and, like… Scarab meat." The giant man responded, cranking the spit to ensure even cooking. "It's a miracle you haven't gotten food poisoning."

"Actually, my food has been poisoned before and I turned out okay so…" She folded her arms, feeling very superior in that moment.

The large man shook his head slowly, pausing his diligent monitoring momentarily to remove his woollen knit cap and revealing his braided warriors mohawk. The others around the fire watched the two bicker about dinner, half asleep but entertained as the roaring rubble fire warmed their frozen bones.



The Beast was a man as wide as he was tall, his face covered in tattooed war markings of his former clan and sporting a cruel curved blade on his back that had begun to be eaten away by rust.

"If you don't cook meat right, it makes you sick. Can kill if you do it badly enough." He corrected with furrowed brows.

Beside his squatting figure, happily slobbering on a femur bone from their recent hunt was the loyal hound of the group. His black, matted fur hung off of his battle hardened body.

"You say that, but Porkchop's never gotten sick and he only eats raw meat." She countered, whether she was correct or not doing nothing to lessen her smug expression.

Next in the circle was a man who was the inverse of The Beast in every way. Small and skinny, Confidence Man scratched at his short beard before folding his arms across his chest. He gently leaned back against the rotted remains of an old world cabinet that they had brutalised to feed the hungry flames.

"Or those Hidden freaks. I don't think they ever cook people." Confidence Man added, eying the slowly rotating roast.

After him, was a woman resting her forearm on her bent knee and gripping the pommel of a long, well preserved, single edged sword. She ran a sharpening stone along it methodically. Her blackened chestplate of cobbled together metal sat in front of her by the flames, thawing by its warmth. She cracked an unusually gentle smile at her companions, enjoying the rare comfort in the wasteland and brushing her long unruly hair out of her face in between strokes of the sharpening stone.

"I don't think we should be taking food advice from the mute cannibals." West Engine hid the subtle curl of her lips from her fellows, attempting to maintain her carefully cultivated stoic persona.

Attempting to sleep beside her was one of the two non-humans among the group. His legs came to stick-like stubs with his four arms only having the addition of finger-like tarsals in the difference. Nestled into his rags, cradling an old hunting rifle, his wide and flat head rested on the sleeping bag's padded fabric.The bug-man clicked his mandibles in preparation to speak.

"Lucky for Razor, Hive have better stomachs. No poisoning Hive." He muttered proudly, turning himself onto his shell.

Laying across her camp bed, propping herself up on one elbow, Tora the Fearless puffed up her chest at the Hive's boasting, self consciously running her tongue along one of her tusks. If a Hive, or anyone for that matter, could boast such a feat of strength, then what good was she? She placed a scarred hand on the pommel of her large, rudimentary axe for comfort as she went to speak.

"I also have an impressive stomach! Battleborn, like me, drink wine made of grog pit berries and eat Shrieker meat raw!" She announced.

Meeting that statement with an uproar of giggling was the last one in the circle. A woman with skin kissed by Seoul with eyes as blue as the frozen oceans. Blue Eyes adjusted her seating position to face Tora, an ever present smirk present on her face.



With her hair in a messy bun atop her head and a baton in her lap she debated whether or not to call Tora out on the obvious lie or continue to annoy The Beast.

"What do you even call a chunk of Scarab meat anyway? Scarab Steak? Scarab… breast? Do Scarabs have breasts?" She cocked her head at the giant squatting man with a challenging eyebrow raised.

"Not everything is a steak. It isn't Scarab steak, it isn't Shrieker steak and you best bet it ain't White Death steak." The Beast frowned and let go of the spits crank, hefting his impractical weapon over his shoulder.

"Then what is it, big guy? You're the Gourmet here." Blue Eyes put on her best pout towards her grumpy companion.

"Remind me why we didn't turn you over to the Crater Carrions again?" The Beast huffed as he methodically carved off pieces of great beasts meat from the spit, offering them on the blade to each of his companions.

"Your avoidance of the question doesn't fill me with confidence, old friend." Confidence Man took the meat with his grubby little hands and nibbled at it with an assured smirk.

"I'm younger than you. And… Fine… I don't know, okay?" The Beast let out a humbled huff as he continued passing out the food. "But I know it's not 'Scarab Steak'. Now shut up and eat your Stomper."

"You know, in the Old World, they used to say "You become those you devour." or something like that." Tora announced, taking a large bite out of her dried meat.

"Hah. Maybe the Hidden are just trying to learn more about us then." Confidence Man chuckled with conviction. "I wonder if the Blight'd let us pass if we ate enough wood."

"No need! Drive us there next, I could clear our way to the Hidden City with a half-busted shotgun!" Tora let out a loud and boisterous guffaw.

The group shared a short chuckle, Blue Eyes darting her eyes between the two grumps of the company to catch them smiling. West Engine kept her sword's pommel in front of her mouth in an attempt to hide her creeping smile, meanwhile The Beast gave a simple roll of his eyes but as he leaned forward to go for more meat, she saw his smile as it faded from his face.



"Razor will never sleep while Tora speaks." The Hive grumbled as he sat up, accepting the last communal slices of meat.

"Am I too loud for the bug's sensitive little ears?" Tora laughed a little too hard.

"Does… Do Hive even have ears, Razor? I… I don't see any on you." West Engine put down her sword, staring at her fellow survivor. "I didn't see many Hive back home… Never really had this close of a look…" She leaned closer, reaching out an inquisitive finger to poke the side of Razors head.

"Back 'home' where Razor is attacked on sight? Razor cannot imagine why." The Hive responded, swatting her hand away. "Hive have ears. Razor has ears. You speak and Razor speaks back." He continued, pointing to two small circular lumps that protrude from either side of his neck.

Tora looked over Razor, frowning as she was struck with a pang of guilt.

"I… Um… Sorry for insulting your ears." She turned her gaze away from the group, pulling from the light of the fire to hide the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Razor was not offended." The Hive cocked his head to the side, confused.

"Of course not! You are my friend! I travel with anyone who could be hurt so easily." Tora cleared her throat, and nervously fretted with her fingers.



Across the fire, The Beast shifted away from the campfire to settle back into his comfortable squat. He turned his head to Confidence Man, looking his friend in his eyes and seeing the same self assured gaze he always knew.

"Of all the wastelanders with bounties we've handed in, you chose these four to keep around. What was so special about them? Why were they worth more than what the Clans offered?" The Beast kept his voice low as Blue Eyes started another round of teasing towards West Engine.

"Because they're the best." Confidence Man beamed proudly, looking over his motley crew.

"Objectively untrue. We couldn't have found more of 'the best' in a bar? Ones without a price on their heads?" The Beast grumbled back.

"No. Listen, I'll tell you why I took them on…" Confidence Man held up his hands with a confident grin.

"Without asking me." The grumpy Gourmet interrupted.

"...Without asking you." He continued, his smile only growing. "They each gave me a reason. Every other target pulled a blade or a gun or dove into their truck and floored it when I walked up, but them… they gave me a reason to like them. To give a shit about what happens to them. Haven't you listened to them talk, like, at all? Tora's a mess! She's terrified of everything. As for bug-boy... We stumbled into his colony half dead and all he asked was I made him a promise. And West? … I can't take Coal Crown jobs any more after what they put her through, Beast… So sue me, I have a heart."

The Beast watched his friend's smile fade as he spoke, the bravado melting away as his eyes shifted to each person in turn.

"And Blue Eyes?"

"I made him a deal." The woman in question interrupted.

A sudden wave of silence washed over the group. The Beast turned his attention to Blue Eyes, who was leaning back on her elbows and meeting his eyes with her own. The others had halted their own little conversations, watching the two clash with an air of tension clinging onto them like a Rot's ooze. The Beast waited for her to speak, not wanting to give her any ammunition to deflect the question his eyes were asking.

"I had a job lined up in The Creeping Snow. Promised it would be worth not turning me in to those fucks in the Oil Crater. Turned out to be a trap. Remember?" She crossed her legs as she straightened them out.

"The Riptire ambush…" West Engine muttered under her breath.

"Exactly!" Blue Eyes pointed a half eaten piece of meat at her before taking another bite. "That night he asked me for another reason to keep me around… I said I'd die out here all alone. And… as much as I hate to admit it… I wasn't lying."

"And that convinced you?" The Beast sent a suspicious glare towards Confidence Man.

"No. Her sticking with us for weeks beforehand convinced me." He replied, as certain as always. "We've been shot at, beaten up and stranded ten times over. She, or any of them, could have jumped us and made a run for it. But they didn't. I trust her just like I trust the rest of you."



His words settled onto the group like freshly falling snow, each of them visibly affected by the sudden display of trust. The Beast looked to the ground with a rare feeling of shame, eventually bringing himself to check on Blue Eyes with a quick glance. She had turned away from the group, bringing her knees close to her chest and wrapping arms around them. She looked out through the gaps in the boarded up window at the clear violet night sky, the bright stars reflected in her oceanic eyes while she stared at Nos and her children in their full glory.

"Thanks… Boss..." Blue Eyes said through her lap.

Confidence Man replied with a small nod, sending another beaming smile across at his companions. In the distance, echoes of the wasteland carried themselves to the group's shelter. Faint gunfire and the muted roaring of engines from the main road from The Flats that lead into the city. The Beast slowly rose to his full height, answering the silent question the entire group was about to ask. They were getting involved. Razor sat up, pushing himself to his feet with three of his arms while the fourth flicked towards the short man, launching something he had been entrusted with. Thin metal sung as it flew through the air, Confidence Man catching the airborne keys with a cocksure smirk. Tora smothered the fire as the others quickly packed up their camp beds. The Beast lugged the barricade of broken furniture they had used to bar the door. The survivors marched towards their vehicle as the road-war drew closer, the different vehicles identified by the revving of their engines by their well trained ears. Five Cliffbikes and a War Rider. Vultures clawing at the back of a Bison.

"So… what do you call bear meat then?" The driver's seat door was pulled open.