❝ ── WASTELAND, BABY !

[vaermina]

ＳＥＲＡＰＨＩＮＡ ＰＥＴＳＣＨＡＵＥＲxxx
I.xcis femalex II.xthe conclave governmentx III. director of the federal bureau of investigations


indentsera saw emilie long before the other woman noticed her presence.
indenther heart lurched in her chest. the sight of the other woman was enough to make her throat tighten with unease. she could recognize the economist from a mile away. who else would wear a traditional onyx blazer with a stiff white collar and pleated trousers? oh, don't forget the shoes, too. she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of festooned ladies in diamond and silk. she reminded sera of a penguin but she was not sure if it was because of her outfit or the way she walked with a slight hunch in her step. should she swallow a laugh or a chortle of dismay? how long has it been since she last laid eyes on the other woman? she did not know but she had one or two theories about the sudden patch of ice that has thickened between the two of them over the past few months. sera could not fault emilie if she harbored a twinge of resentment towards her. it was, beyond a doubt, the most reasonable eventuality that could come from one enveloped in the situation they were in. she did not expect emilie to be attentive towards her, never mind that the older woman has always been particularly guarded in terms of what she felt. sera had not expected emilie to be optimistic over the news of her affiance but she did not think she expected their relationship to suddenly turn so frigid. the silence on emilie's end has been almost deafening the past few months, and it did not take very long for sera to cease contact entirely once it became clear that her tense greetings and sanguine conversation starters were melting against an icy wall from the get-go. the memories she held of those exchanges were almost mortifying. emilie has never exactly been available for idle chatter to begin with but sera could not see any other reason why their relationship would take such a sour turn. emilie's acrimony was only to be expected, and yet it stung all the same. truth be told, sera was not even one hundred percent sure if her suspicions about their lack of recent contact had any bias. the two of them were busy women, and that sentiment by itself could explain the sudden sabotage that gripped their relationship. people fall out of contact - fall out of love, really - all the time but sera was intelligent enough to see the truth. i don't care, she reassured herself. why should she? emilie would only be an unpredictable figure in her life, bound to slow her down or distract her. she's already proven herself to be unreliable and sera was not very keen on having capricious people in her corner. it was probably for the best. sera did not work as efficiently as she needed to when distracted by such personal, trivial matters. it was better to be alone than in a relationship if all it was going to do was weigh you down with such ridiculous spectacles. at the very least, it was predictable. it seemed that most everyone who sera has come to develop some level of fondness for beyond that of a simple colleague have substantiated themselves as quite fickle in nature. it was possible that emilie was just simply feeling animus towards her but sera did not care to hear about it if that was the case. sera had enough problems on her plate. as harsh as it was to admit it, she had no desire to entertain the older woman's possible inferiority on top of it all. sera wasted enough of her energy mourning her current predicament and the unknown that awaited her like a predator with its jaws wide open. the last thing she needed was emilie's input because sera already knew. she knew what this all meant for them. she knew what their future would look like now - if they even had a future together, that is. sera was not sure where they currently stood with one another. she has never been quite certain on what she was to the other woman but with the recent revelation of sera's engagement and their ever-grueling occupations, the answer did not look very promising. it was clear to sera that emilie had little interest in speaking to her in general so perhaps she already got her answer. it pained her to think about it - made her angry, actually - to think she was truly that disposable to the other woman but sera had no interest in keeping her within arm's length if that was how she actually felt towards her. she had no desire to entertain emilie's periodic caginess and impudence, not when it came as a consequence to her own mental health.
indentsera watched the other woman approach with a displeased expression on her face. she looked like a dragon that was ready to bathe everyone around her in green fire. emilie's puzzlement somehow managed to vex her even more. did she really not see her standing here at all? to be fair, sera was dressed so opulently that she looked like a woman far above her normal station. she did not own any diamonds herself nor any gemstones as sumptuous as the fire opals that clung to her throat but the way she spoke so nonchalantly agitated sera nonetheless. "emilie," she greeted the older woman coolly, ignoring the barge of emotions that threatened to escape her chest. her appearance felt like a slap in the face. it was bad enough that sera was forced to endure the torturous hell that was her current social and political landscape. now she had to deal with emilie intruding into that very space on top of it all? she had no idea what she expected the other woman to say or do upon greeting her. it's not like they could very much voice their true thoughts right about now. they were surrounded by strangers, and sera doubted that emilie would even acknowledge the strain that has befallen them the past few months anyway. typical. "thank you. that is very kind of you to say." she made no effort to return the compliment despite how imposing emilie truly looked tonight. emilie's anti-modish wardrobe has never failed to amuse sera but she could respect the fact that she was more comfortable dressing masculine then feminine. it suited her, too. she never failed to look strikingly elegant, like an old yet precious painting you'd found hanging in the halls of some lavish estate. her style suited the refined curve of her face, the beautiful features that were sculpted so perfectly as to not upset the mercurial gods above. emilie looked tired but when does she not look like that? well, she supposed she looked a bit more disheveled than usual but sera doubted that the other woman was interested in hearing her concerns. emilie was old enough to look after herself and if she harbored any ill will towards sera, she was doing an excellent job at hiding it. in fact, her hand bore no signs of tension when she offered it out of courtesy but that was quick to change when she caught sight of her engagement ring. they pulled away from each other just as quickly as they touched. sera did not respond to her awkward congratulations apart from giving her a polite nod. there was really nothing she could say to ease her own discomfort. it was easier to look down at the floor than it was to watch emilie shake bennie's hand. she blocked out the man's response for sera wanted nothing more than to rip the diamond ring right off her finger and throw it off the sky parlor's balcony. it was a gaudy and tasteless reminder of how strange and twisted her life has grown to be within the past few months. there was something oddly sinister about the way the diamonds glinted on the bands, too. they were undeniably garish and old-fashioned, yes but they were an almost eldritch sign of dark changes to come, hidden beneath the glamor and glitz of pretty lies and promises. she was not sure what to expect from the morgan family. they have always been a respectable and professional brood but notoriously private. little was known of their household and personal lives. sera supposed there was nothing wrong with that but diving head-first into the unknown was a frightening thought. this was not like going toe-to-toe with the average criminals of the wasteland; she knew what to expect from said figures and what patterns and behaviors they'll emulate. she felt like she was walking blind into a pit of snakes when it came to this engagement. her future mother-in-law charmaine morgan has proven to be courteous and decent enough but also sparsely temperamental and controlling, hence her 'insisting' that sera allow her the freedom to choose her outfit for tonight. it would start with the nitpicking and jurisdiction over how sera presented herself in public, how she chose to present yourself when she was around the presidential family... and then what? what else would charmaine want to control? what other aspects of her life would she desire to manipulate and dictate? it's become clear to sera that charmaine's children were under her spell, and every move they made in the public eye benefited her in some way.
indentsera has heard the rumors regarding her son nichols. he disappeared from the spotlight a few years ago after months of ruthless tabloid printings and internet debates surrounded his character. bennie's sister vibia told her once that nichols was staying at a retreat and judging by the younger woman's tone, that was the end of the discussion. but what type of retreat did she mean? a wellness retreat? a psychiatric hospital? a rehabilitation facility? prison? the term 'retreat' had so many meanings in high society but whatever the case may be, nichols was gone and something about his unexplained absence did not sit right with her. did nichols go against his mother and pay the price for it? would the same fate befall sera if she refused to let the older woman control her autonomy and everyday life? would she go missing if she happened to step out of line and taint the family's reputation? sera was walking on thin ice here, and she would do well to remember that. am i being ridiculous? she was probably reaching for something that was not there. nichols morgan had likely been sent to a wellness retreat, and the morgans were not the type of people to willingly harm others. they were everything the conclave needed to survive. they upheld the law with the most vehement respect. her engagement to bennie was purely one of political and social gain; her grandmother told her that sera's work in law enforcement would only booster the morgans' benevolent reputation by cementing them as the country's only hope towards nationwide peace. they were the conclave's most pristine example of a well-rounded and law-abiding family in america, and sera's contribution to the clan would help solidify that. sera supposed that made sense because she could not figure out why charmaine would want to keep her close otherwise. her future mother-in-law was the most powerful woman in the country; why would she be wary of sera? she was no threat to the older woman unless she happened to be breaking a plethora of federal laws, and she highly doubted that the figurehead of the enclave dominion - an enigmatic organization known only for surveying the wasteland and ensuring proper democracy is carried out amongst its leal subjects - would be doing such a thing. evie reassured sera that it was most likely just the workings of a mother's suspicious intuitions. she needed to be sure she was marrying her eldest son to a dutiful and like-minded woman - whatever the hell that meant. sera would be lying if she said she did not feel the need to somewhat please the older woman and get accepted into her good graces but did she care enough to handle that sort of nonsense? she was unsure. charmaine morgan was the type of mother that sera might have yearned for herself at one point: strong-willed, hard-headed, ambitious, strong and not easily dissuaded. the trio were not left alone to bask in their gaucheness for long. "mister glaesar, mister anderson. it's always a pleasure to see you two," sera greeted emilie's colleagues amiably upon their oh-so convenient approach. she did not know the two men on any sort of personal level but she's spoken to them once or twice before.
indentthe world of economics has always felt so bizarre and otherworldly to sera, but her occupation has become far more intwined with its abnormalities than she would have liked. criminal activity acts like a tax on the entire economy. it discourses domestic and direct investments, reduces firms' competitiveness, and reallocates resources that create waves of uncertainty and inefficiency. violent crime cost the conclave nine percent of its gross domestic product last year alone. it costs billions of dollars to operate correctional facilities and maintain their criminal justice systems, to say nothing of the money that is poured into the court rooms, jury awards, and insurance and government claims. hell, her bureau itself spent millions of dollars alone on just sieging enemy compounds and facilities. widespread criminal violence such as the bedlam created by the country's most ferocious bandit groups can undermine the economy by reducing investment, output and growth. that was not even brushing the petty battles that often ensued between law enforcement groups and financial sectors over pecuniary crimes. sera could not quite count the amount of times she has had to go toe-to-toe with large wall street corporations over suspicions of fraud and tax evasion being committed by their investors and employees. it was like running in a huge circle playing tag with one another but replace childish antics with gag orders, subpoenas and witness summons. she had no problem probing into the suspicious behaviors and transactions that occur between the most elite of these organizations. as far as sera was concerned, cidma mine could always use the extra manual labor and her expeditions were almost always fiercely supported by the executive branch and the general public for the military and law enforcement agencies were always held in high regard in their militarized society. she's dealt with a number of financial tycoons freaking out in her corner over the bureau and its sister agencies disrupting wall street by issuing travel bans to smaller conclave cities and towns that were under some sort of wasteland threat, too. they could not afford to lose access to convenient business travel and with stockbrokers, investors, agents and hedgers unable to return to their offices, they acted like sera just opened up the gates of hell for them. nevertheless, sera has spent a good chunk of her time working with others to identify the full range of the economic and social impacts of human-made disasters and quantifying them for public-policy analysts. the recent attacks on the morgan dam have caused massive insurance losses through the destruction of human life and assets tied to the value of the dam and its corresponding businesses. similar declines have hit the travel, tourism, hospitality and financial-service sectors as a result. no financial formula can ever truly predict the outcome of the wasteland's madness, though and there would always be a liability posed to businesses and consumer confidence with the current state of their country. the morgan dam is one of the few remaining sources of natural electricity and fresh water around, hence the amount of money and industrialization that has been poured into the businesses relying on it. there are hundreds of conclave enterprises and over a million citizens in the strip of las vegas and new hollywood that rely on the dam for its power. it's also been a source of conflict between the conclave and bandit group known as messalina's legion for years now. the legion wanted the dam for everything it provided the conclave but they also yearned the price that came with its symbol. it was often said that whoever controls the morgan dam controls the west, and the consequences of the legion gaining control of it would be catastrophic to western conclave operations as well as its general populace in new california. and as the legion's attacks grew stronger and more organized, the losses of each successful hit were felt all across conclave society.
indentsera was constantly bombarded by calls and voicemails from concerned superiors and pompous colleagues, all concerned for how the welfare of the conclave's economy, military, government and civil infrastructure will endure these attacks. the morgan dam aside, there was also a growing area of mistrust in the bureau concerning the legion's recent pushes northwest. sera and her colleagues had ample reason to believe the legion were seeking abandoned nuclear silos in the countryside. they have confidential informants in the raider horde who only recently brought this information to them. their informants were usually men and women - former bandits who were caught and given very little options in regards to the reparations of their crimes - who worked ad hoc for the bureau to escape legal jeopardy. they reported on the legion's most recent itinerant behaviors, and their latest delineations brought much alarm to the bureau and its sister agencies. why the legion would waste soldiers searching for pre-war missile silos, sera was not one hundred percent sure but nothing good could come out of it. there were hundreds upon hundreds of unaccounted nuclear warheads, missiles and explosive projectiles that have been lost in time since the cold war, and it's very possible there are missile launch facilities out there that were built before the great war and abandoned shortly thereafter. the united states manufactured thousands of explosives in the early twenty first century to use against eastern superpowers china and russia; sera doubted that all of them were launched or utilized before the nuclear bombs dropped. the conclave has retaken several abandoned silos in the last few decades and have even manufactured a few of their own but there was no way they could find every single one made before the war. at first, sera had been mildly unnerved upon the news of the legion's recent activities but for a split second, it did not seem nearly as grievous as it sounded out loud. underground missile silos have not only been historically built in isolated areas but the security systems put into place to ensure they were not breached would be more than enough to keep a handful of degenerates out. that's what sera thought until the commander of the weapons of mass destruction directorate, a division of the bureau's national security branch, informed her that the likeliness of the facilities' defense systems working properly were zero to none. they have been unmanned for three centuries and pre-war technology is nowhere near as advanced as it is today. most of the underground silos prior to the great war were also old and relied on technology that dated back to the cold war. the safeguard program - an army anti-ballistic missile system designed to protect the air force's silos from attack - was one such program but the capabilities of said project were extremely limited. it was designed to protect the country's nuclear deterrent fleet from incoming air attacks. defense support program satellites, the ballistic missile early warning system, perimeter acquisition radars, remote sprint launchers: they protected the silos from enemy missiles and air raids, not enemy soldiers trying to force their way inside from ground level. not to mention, the government constantly cancelled different security programs and operations that there's no telling what sort of protection grids lay inside. there were probably basic security measures put into place such as turrets, defense terminals and laser grid mainframes but the probability of said security forces still working adequately after so many years is zero to none. it would be easy for anyone to force their way inside the underground missile facilities while meeting little to no resistance along the way. some of sera's colleagues speculated that it wouldn't be that much hard to utilize the weaponry inside, either. it's very likely that numerous military officials perished in the silos or the surrounding areas after the great war and if their remains have not been grounded into dust by now, they most likely held nuclear silo code fragments on their persons as well as the appropriate nuclear keycards and high-ranking military identification cards to access delicate materials. hell, it was possible that such preparations were not even needed anymore if the silos' security systems were shot. sera had a sinking feeling in the pit of her chest that the legion's attempts to siege the morgan dam had something to do with the nuclear silos they were currently seeking out. and while she and the bureau were already stretched as thin as it is, she sent the acting commanders of the weapons of mass destruction directorate, counterterrorism division and the operational technology division to monitor the situation. they set up a fushion center out west and worked in tandem with other government agencies and the military to track down the abandoned silos that dotted the wasteland, and preserve them before the legion could get their hands on them. the last thing they needed was for a bunch of fanatical raiders to get their hands on ballistic missiles and trigger events of chaotic destruction across the country. she wholeheartedly believed that messalina's legion was capable of doing that. they were different from other large bandit groups like wulfgang in that while they both focused heavily on conquest and assimilation, wulfgang was more so an ocean of criminals bound together by a common cause of blood, violence and easy spoils. the bandits of wulfgang followed their king because he was a strong figure and promised them all the wealth and luxury their little hearts desired, should they help him succeed his goals by overthrowing the government. their loyalty was not true, though and so many men and women in that group harbor ambitious sentiment that ranks were constantly contested for, and blood was constantly spilled as they fought amongst themselves. they'd stab each other in the back if it meant they could live a little bit more deliciously.
indent on the other hand, messalina's legion was a militarized autocracy that effectively assimilated the cultures it conquered which its leader, messalina, saw as the perfect template for a society that would survive and thrive in the face of the challenges of the post-nuclear world. by dedicating its members to a higher ideal, she seeks to prevent humanity from fracturing and destroying itself again. the woman and her followers believe that the only way to achieve this is through enforcing a nationalist, imperialist, totalitarian, homogeneous culture that obliterates the identity of every group it conquers. the individual has no value beyond his utility to the state, whether as an instrument of war or production. democracy was weak, corrupted, easily altered depending on the greed of its subjects - the legion intended to be the opposite of that, shunning democracy in favor of a strong, centralized rule that would prevent fragmentation and internal weakness. the legion considered the government's downfall their ultimate goal so they could complete their transformation from a marauding army into a domestic military force capable of enslaving the masses and destroying opposing bandit gangs. their soldiers are born and bound by blood, raised from infanthood into fierce, unyielding warriors with the ultimate goal of completing their war god's mission at hand. they were not afraid of death which made them that much more dangerous than the outlaws of wulfgang for cowardice was just simply not apart of their genetic makeup. they were more than willing to die for the cause. the legion depended on their soldiers to conquer the west; they have already assimilated a number of smaller gangs, communities and towns into their rule since they began their march across new california and into the odawa desert. they have monopolized off the slave trade created by wulfgang and even greatly expanded it within the west by purchasing thralls off other people and finalizing the transactions with bills of sales issued by their own inner councils. the trade not only funded their war efforts but it helped create leal customers who knew they could depend on the legion to fatten their pockets without attempting to swindle them in the process. the legion made ample use of their thralls. they depended on slave labor to feed their troops, raise their livestock and children and keep their camps from descending into domestic chaos. and while blood-born legionnaires are the only ones who can fight for messalina's cause, the legion had no issues using slaves as bullet fodder or petty guardsmen. the legion even goes as far as to claim the bloodline of each thrall they purchase or capture so they could get the most out of their purchases. should a man and woman in servitude have children, their children are claimed as slaves and raised to serve the legion. it was different than the system wulfgang enforced. the commonwealth raiders have no sense of preservation towards their slaves and would happily kill or mutilate them upon the notion that they can always be replaced by another. it ultimately did not matter if said slaves were purchased or forced into servitude through conquest; they were forced to serve their masters and tend to the legion's war camps all the same. the legion was militarized, structured and full of zeal - all characteristics that prove they will only continue to be a mounting threat to the conclave's operations out west. sera has already tried to petition congress numerous times to act upon their powers and mobilize the armed forces, as well as all national resources to meet the requirements of the national emergency that the legion could evoke should they decide to turn their sights away from the morgan dam and attack western cities like los angeles. it was a largely fruitless endeavor. congress was already exhausted from the numerous entreaties made by the military and law enforcement agencies concerning wulfgang up in the northern commonwealth that the idea of having to continuously supplement their time to another raider threat was simply too much for them. they were completely oblivious to the very real threats that messalina's legion posed for the federal government. wulfgang is large and unruly, yes but they were relatively contained up north and they did not have the freedom to go marching from their strongholds unless they wanted to come face-to-face with the military that lie in wait across no man's land. messalina's legion on the other hand has yet to be contained and if they were truly searching for abandoned nuclear silos, they could easily surpass wulfgang as the nation's leading domestic terrorists. it all clicked perfectly for sera but nobody outside her bureau and sister agencies understood. no, they did not want to understand. it's better to laugh off the danger as just the nomadic ways of mindless wasteland savages than swallow their pride and acknowledge the genuine fear beneath the situation. and if sera and her colleagues were right? well, she supposed she could dance upon the ruins of the missile-wrought capitol building and taunt the bones of burned politicians until a legionnaire lodged their spear through her gut.
indentsera looked to emilie when she heard the older woman clear her throat. she eyed emilie with a look of modest wariness when she began to speak. how is your schedule looking these days? sera did not get a chance to respond for emilie was quick to launch into another dismissive spiel on one of her grad students being slated to present at a symposium within the next few days, and one topic concerning historical espionage and the criminal prosecutions of trade secret theft seemed to be in slate for discussion. ah. i see. sera could feel herself beginning to deflate, if only slightly. the agitation and pique she felt towards emilie only moments prior was punctured upon the sound of the invitation leaving the other woman's lips. a symposium? the offer immediately caught her off guard. she was not sure what she had been expecting emilie to say but to invite her to an academic conference? it was certainly... well, a choice. a confusing choice. didn't emilie resent her? why would she want sera to attend a colloquium with her after being an absent figure in her life the past few months? she had expected emilie to want nothing to do with her anymore. she was not sure what was worse; the notion of their relationship potentially crumbling apart or the two of them trekking on as they did before but ignoring the elephant in the room as a result. sera was not sure what emilie's goal here was. she had expected vexation, iciness, anger or even dead silence from her but this? sera found it to be disconcerting. she did not like it. she did not care much for being given the cold shoulder and then acknowledged only when emilie felt generous enough to do so. what exactly was the other woman thinking, inviting sera to attend a symposium with her after months of tension between them? sera twisted the ring on her finger. "how kind of you to think about me. historical espionage and trade secret theft?" she repeated almost dryly. "one of my section chiefs would probably love to listen to that. he works in the counterintelligence division and oversees the counterespionage section, particularly the economic espionage unit. that sounds right up his alley." she shrugged. "but you're right. it is short notice. i might have to shuffle some cards around to make it work but... yeah, i could possibly tag along. why not?" sera might have been quick to shut emilie down had the woman's words not stuck out to her. anyway, it made me think of you. i figured that sort of discussion might be right up your alley, and honestly i don't know who better i could ask to join me. literally anybody else? still, it was unexpected coming from emilie and it suddenly made sera wonder if she had been too quick to jump to conclusions earlier. was it possible that the animosity that sera felt between them was something else entirely, something that was not hatred at all? sera would be lying if she said she was not curious about emilie's intentions. emilie must not resent sera that bad if she was inviting her to attend an academic seminar with her. to be honest, sera was not a huge fan of pedagogical colloquies and collegiate conferences but she knew that it would not hurt to attend one again, if only to make a public appearance. she has spent nearly every week the past two years stuck in public press conferences, hearings and journalist conference briefings. granted, none of them particularly revolved around academic papers and analyses but sera had no time for ventures like that anymore. she used to attend plenty of undergraduate symposiums back when she was the assistant attorney general in charge of the criminal division in the department of justice. she usually attended the ones that focused on criminal and political law - they usually always brought forth a variety of other topics, unfortunately - where like-minded individuals came together to introduce legal, academic and community voices instrumental in advancing the future of their industry. it was always refreshing to see undergraduates shine with promise during such events but sera could not find the time nor energy to dabble in such affairs anymore. she had far too much on her plate to waste precious time listening to academic collaborations and peer-reviewed papers, no matter how enlivening it could be. she was quite literally stretched to her limit most of the time. if it was not the hordes of bandit murderers who threatened the conclave from the west and northeast, it was the problematic organizations that have popped up across the wasteland to challenge the government's rule and that's to say nothing on the illegal slave trade, narcotic trafficking, underground black market and the crimes being committed on conclave soil. luckily for sera, the latter is nowhere near as rampant as pre-war models suggest. given the fact the conclave cherishes its militarism values, people are not too keen on committing graphic crimes in cities where army soldiers have replaced traditional policemen, and the predominance of the armed forces in the administration and policy of the state meant that crimes of any nature - financial crimes, white-collar crime, violent crime and organized crime - are met with hefty prison sentences, fines and subsequent falls from the public's graces. still, that did not mean that crime was erased completely from the map and sera most often found herself dealing with white-collar crimes like tax evasion, insurance fraud, money laundering and embezzlement. there were a few violent crimes thrown in there too like armed robbery, assault, kidnapping and burglary but those were few and in-between. she was grateful to have so many working hands in the bureau to help her enforce law and order. the bureau's branches are divided by divisions who are in turn divided by smaller branches and various subsections - the counterintelligence division she mentioned earlier was divided by nearly twenty subsections itself such as the counterespionage section, counterproliferation center section, counterintelligence strategy and domain section, infrastructure vulnerability and threat assessment center section and national counterintelligence task force section. it was excessive, yes but sorely needed to keep the bureau and nation afloat.
indent"i must admit, i'm rather sorry for your grad student. i can imagine they'd be most disappointed to hear you say that one of the biggest moments in their young life is not a cause for excitement. you are a bitter old crone, you know that?" she could not help but smile nevertheless. it was easy for sera to stand there and debate how she'd be better off without emilie constantly fluttering overhead but she was not quite sure of that sentiment herself. she liked to believe that emilie was different than the others, that sera would not have to feel the need to double down on her own independence and autarky to keep her feelings from being hurt but it was impossible to tell where they currently stand. she supposed their relationship has always been something of a rollercoaster. emilie could be domineering, insensitive and invulnerable while sera was short-tempered, pitiless and blunt. their personalities were fire and gasoline, a dangerous combination that could combust into flames at any given moment. sera has never been afraid to tell emilie when she was being a jackass, and emilie has certainly proven that she was not afraid to put sera on the backburner when things grew sour between them. sera found herself often tempted to either throttle emilie or dump her outside the walls of the capital city and see how well she fared against the wasteland. that would be amusing but she would not be surprised if the older woman somehow found a way to chase off a sharpclaw by going on an intellectual rant. emilie has always been too smart for her own good. sera supposed that she has never relied heavily on the older woman to begin with but she most definitely considered emilie to be apart of her corner prior to the engagement. now, she was not sure where they stood. ten minutes ago, she thought emilie moved on from whatever sort of rocky relationship they once shared but her invitation proved otherwise. there was something still there, buried beneath their shared resentment and hesitation but sera could not tell what it was. she certainly could not ask emilie about it right now, not when they were surrounded by colleagues and strangers. and either way, sera has always been the type of person who was heavily cemented in her independence. if someone did not want to be associated with her anymore, sera did very little to reach out to them or try and rectify the situation because she knew when she was not wanted. she knew when she was not cared for and she'd be damned if she looked like a fool trying to slither back into somebody's good graces. that was not to say that she was immune to the pull of aristocratic society and the desire to feel welcomed amongst her fellow citizens but as far as she was concerned, there was nothing but heartache and disappointment to be found in those types of aspirations. it was a lesson that she struggled to take to. no matter what, people will always leave you or disappoint you. it's practically human nature at this point. the very essence of life is never guaranteed and everything can be ripped away from you in a matter of seconds, minutes, hours. people are as unreliable as the concept of life and death itself. it look a lot to gain sera's trust and respect, something she usually reserved solely for her colleagues as most of them have already proven their sheer dedication, loyalty and admiration for the cause. sera wanted to hold that same level of trust towards emilie but she was not sure if that was possible at the moment. she doubted emilie trusted her to begin with and sometimes sera was not easy to talk to with her bouts of autonomic self-reliance, stubbornness and above-the-ice nihilism. truthfully, she and emilie have never been a couple and it would be unfair of sera to expect emilie to be totally devoted and open towards her - especially in light of her engagement - but did that mean she expected emilie to go completely haywire on her? not really. emilie has done very little to remedy her interest in whatever remained of their fractured relationship but it was becoming slowly obvious to sera that the older woman was not quite done with her yet. what are you thinking, miss hofmann? "anyway, i assume you are done making your social rounds for the time being? i'm not sure if you know this already but you and your lovely associates are sharing a table with my colleagues and i tonight. you can blame the joint congressional committee on inaugural ceremonies for the seating chart but i do hope that you can tolerate my presence for at-least the next few hours. i'm dying to get off my feet for a while." sera was more than eager to escape the sky parlor at this point but she could not help but notice the bitter humor in the situation. it was hilarious to her that they had been assigned to sit at the same table. she was not sure if that was mere misfortune or the coincidental nudge to something more but at this point, she had no choice but to accept it. it was probably a good thing that they each had their own colleagues sitting with them for it would help soothe the awkwardness and tension between the two women but sera's associates were not slated to come in until later. she knew that because she had a pretty good view of their table from where they currently stood, and the large tabletop sat devoid of people from its spot on the second floor. if she had to guess, her colleagues were currently downstairs interacting with family and other coworkers. it was not unusual. after all, it was still early in the evening and many people were still socializing amongst themselves, having yet to take their own seats. sera did not share their enthusiasm. she wanted to get out of the sky parlor. she wanted to flee the banquet hall itself but she had a role to play, one that she could not readily escape from.

[vaell]

xxxxxＥＭＩＬＩＥ ＨＯＦＭＡＮＮ.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe chair of the council of economic advisors.
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indentsera's attitude struck emilie like a slap in the face. judging by the way she strutted over to the younger woman just moments ago, it was obvious she expected her appearance to evoke a bit more enthusiasm than what it did. she couldn't help but feel like sera was being intentionally noncommittal right now. emilie expected an answer cemented in some sort of resolve, not just some perfunctory and tepid 'yeah, i could possibly tag along.' she had to wonder; would that aforementioned colleague of sera's appear in her place come the day of the symposium? truth be told, she wouldn't be surprised if sera planned on leaving her high and dry altogether in a spiteful act of retaliation. she was probably only agreeing to join her at the symposium in an effort to avoid inviting any further scrutinization over the matter. though mere speculation on her own end, emilie couldn't help but grow a bit sour as she conjured baseless theories about the other woman's motivations. if the last few months have been any indicator at all, sera would be wise to know her capacity for acts of graciousness and warm regard had limits. she didn't take lightly to being dealt a blow to her ego and sera's lack of certitude in spite of her propitiative gesture was just that. emilie looked away from her, a rather stiff smile concealing her injury. "well, don't sound so eager now." she mumbled through her teeth sarcastically. evidently she was somewhat offended the younger woman wasn't jumping at the opportunity to spend time with her, or at-least enough to make her usual aplomb falter. maybe sera thought her approach brash. overweening as emilie can be, she seemed to go completely unaware that she might be at fault here rather than sera. so intimately tethered to her own constructed self-image, over the years emilie has developed a monstrously unchecked ego, though clearly a rather fragile one at that. her very subconscious is terrified of anything capable of challenging her ascendancy and perhaps that is why sera has always been such a force for emilie to weather. oftentimes fiercely obstinate and self-reliant, sera was no underling emilie could easily subjugate or domineer. in fact she was quick to learn the other woman had no reservations bringing her down a peg if she needed to, and though emilie didn't particularly appreciate her tenacity most of the time, it's actually managed to earn her the economist's implicit respect. what truly perturbed her though was the possibility sera might sense some sort of inadequacy swimming beneath the surface of her uncharitable façade. emilie often succumbs to feelings of inferiority and makes up for it in displays of staggering self-confidence, just like when she first greeted sera and benedict a few moments ago. it was all quite simple really. she begrudged the man's involvement in their situation to the point where she felt the need to assert her own dominance, perhaps as an insecure, emasculated effort to prove something to sera never mind being responsible for leaving her out in the cold the last few months. of course, sera was not one to grovel for the attention of another person herself, which meant she was just as quick to leave emilie alone when it grew clear she retreated into a pit of bitter indignation following the news of her engagement. wasn't sera just as guilty as she was, then, for letting what they had crumble apart? besides, emilie was not the one who consigned her soul away to the morgan family, for whatever frankly jejune reasons sera might try and speak of. it was abundantly clear to her that she was the one who got the short end of the stick here. did sera just think she could continue to have the best of both worlds, dabbling in puerile means to establish esteem in high society, all the while expecting emilie to be content sitting on the sidelines cheering her on, otherwise unaffected? if anything, emilie's prompt resentment toward sera should be considered warranted. she thought they had something though apparently sera had no qualms jeopardizing that, caving in to her family's bludgeoning over what advancements this strategic marriage might bestow upon the petschauer name. granted, the other woman may not have played a willing hand in the engagement herself, probably even vehemently rebelled against it, but clearly whatever efforts she made didn't seem to have much of an impact given her current circumstance. it might sound horribly insensitive to say, but could she not have done more, resisted elsehow? of course, as an outsider it was easy for emilie to pass judgement onto sera. if she were in her position she felt certain she would have done something different to have prevented this from transpiring at all. what, though? was sera truly as complicit as emilie felt she was? looking any further would mean having to reflect on her own actions in this ordeal, and thus far, making sera out to be the bad guy has certainly helped stave off her own culpability. emilie has always been averse to feelings rooted in remorse or contrition, and the bitter pill of self-reproach was not one she swallowed well. admitting to any wrongdoing would come at the expense of her inflated ego and she deemed that a non-negotiable exchange. that sort of vulnerability was something the economist routinely turned her nose up at in order to avoid feeling exposed or defenseless, especially when it came to those she thought highly of. in any case, if sera was expecting emilie to lay down her amour-propre then she was going to wind up sorely disappointed. the economist was not planning to grovel for forgiveness at her feet anytime soon, and even in the event sera forced an apology out of her, such would only be rife with mendacity and she doubted the other woman would react kindly to any insincerity coming from her lips. the way emilie saw it, offering the younger woman nothing but empty amends or disingenuous apologies in an effort to move on wasn't going to do much to help repair the fracturing of their relationship. besides, superficial concessions or halfhearted attempts at reconciliation seemed fruitless if she was only going to risk provoking sera's irascibility anyway. emilie may have been the one walling the other woman off from her life these last few months, but now she was offering her a chance to reenter the picture again. wasn't that worth anything? honestly, she didn't even realize how cruel it was to keep sera at bay for months only to reach out again as soon as it suited her. she only saw the effort she was trying to make in spite of their unpropitious predicament.
indentthe economist's gaze drew away from the sky parlor's gathering crowd when she heard the other woman speak up. defensiveness was fast to rise in her throat though the feeling just as quickly abated, thwarted by the words that came from sera's mouth. you are a bitter old crone, you know that? a momentary glint of amusement seemed to perforate emilie's otherwise stony expression. although she was routinely surprised by how effortlessly sera could appeal to her, the corner of her mouth lifted in subtle challenge all the same. the light-hearted nature of sera's comment invited some semblance of normalcy into their conversation, and for a fleeting moment it seemed hard to believe she ever wanted to wedge any sort of distance between them at all. in fact, emilie found herself willingly leaning in to the other woman's badinage, familiar as it were. "oh please. you know how pedestrian these things can be." she was quick to shrug sera's clever observation off. as a former doctoral student herself she used to think the world of attending every upcoming symposia in her itinerary, but just as the other woman pointed out, she has become rather blasé over the last couple of years. emilie couldn't much help but arch a brow at her, regarding sera with a certain wariness. although she looked at the other woman like she were truly leery of her, she was only trying to take a stab at being jocular in return. "between us though, i hope you know this was all off the record? i didn't invite you to the symposium only to have you whisper naughty things about me in my grad students ear." she reminded her pointedly, though her tone came off as teasing. you'd probably like that though, wouldn't you? truth be told, the upcoming research colloquium should indeed be considered an exciting affair. the very field of economic sciences has grown exponentially since emilie first established herself as a researcher. academia has advanced well past the point of reestablishing fundamental theorems, policy instruments or economic models known to belong to the pre-war era of society, and with the talent wielded by the current generation of conclave scientists, new conceptualizations brought about a promising outlook for the future of their country. of course, deviation from pre-war mainstream economics have brought keynesian and classical thinkers to something of an impasse these days. locked in disagreement over whether or not government intervention should be used to correct business cycles, keynesianism and classical economics have always been considered the two main competing theories for current economic contractions. these major schools of thought prevailed after the nukes dropped and developed into the predominant philosophies seen in economic theory today while a number of other influential approaches from the past simply lost merit altogether and fell out of favor, essentially going defunct. emilie herself spent the first half of her career cementing the concept of nominal rigidity of wages, a theory once proposed by the influential pre-war economist john maynard keynes. in the framework of their existing economy, her contributions to reviving macroeconomic theory proved to have tremendous implication. the concept of price stickiness ─ a topic she has been continually recognized and awarded for reforming ─ historically described the resistance of market prices to quick changes. normally, wages are bound to adjust in real-time with the market and lead to relatively constant levels of economic equilibrium, though in the event of a disruption, proportionate wage reductions and limited job losses are predicted to occur. however, with stickiness considered, wages are thought to be more inclined to remain where they are, with firms likely to trim employment. despite having faced classical economists who doubted the robustness of her propositions, stickiness has indeed proven viable in explaining why markets might not reach equilibrium in the short run or even possibly the long run. as such, her revision of nominal rigidity has become a rather important concept in the foundations of modern macroeconomics. she's postulated a number of reasons as to why wages are sticky in their current economy. workers are more willing to accept pay raises than they are cuts; a lot of established companies don't want to face bad press in association with wage cuts. either way, when worker's earnings don't adjust quickly to changes in labor market conditions, the economy is especially slow to recover from any sort of prolonged downturn in economic activity.
indentover the course of these last few months, an insidious decline in corporate profits, consumer spending and asset prices have kept conclave analysts on the lookout for the onset of a bear market, a phenomena characterized by lowered investor optimism in either the stock, bond, real estate, currency or commodity markets. many security experts are taking advantage of the upward and downward trends of market movement right now because they have been known to coincide with the economic cycle, that being the expansion, peak, contraction, and trough. emilie could cautiously assert that the economy is in a rather tentative ─ if not entirely vulnerable ─ state of economic expansion. she attributed the recent fall of stock prices predominantly to public sentiment about the country's future economic conditions, and with that sort of speculation or psychological effect at play in markets it can be difficult to predict the rise of a bear market. oftentimes though the stock market itself will decline before broader economic measures even get the chance to and with stock prices beginning to drop these days, reflecting a dubious production economy, stagnant employment and weakening rates of gross domestic product, she wagered a bear market could easily set in before any actual economic contraction may take hold. taking into consideration the conclave's preceding periods of economic and market growth though, the economy should be verging on something of a boom rather than a bust, but historically speaking their economic situation has always been notoriously difficult to analyze, predict and interpret even with what advancements they have made as a society. as would be noted in the upcoming annual report of the council of economic advisors, the economy took a few considerable hits last year, rife not only with rough patches of weak productivity but also lowered business profit, both of which led to negative turns in investor and consumer sentiment. of course, when major companies and consumers grew anxious over the state of the economy at the time, she could recall matters only worsened for many were quick to hold on to their money or cut spending altogether. urgency and fear can be enough to motivate people to protect downside losses, though such herd behavior only prolongs depressed asset prices in the long run. with waning growth prospects and dashed expectations reflected in declining stock prices, investor confidence plummeted and many opted to sell off shares to avoid potential loses. as such lots of businesses had no choice but to reallocate their resources, limit their losses, lay off employees, and scale back production altogether during the periods of intensifying economic downturn that year. the conclave may only have a sluggish economy right now, but like the previous year of economic activity suggested, political crises, wars, drastic paradigm shifts in the economy, and even certain government intervention have proved enough to threaten their precarious market bubble. ongoing nonroutine events ─ military campaigns in the northern commonwealth, armed conflict concerning bandits hoards or factions such as the odawa syndicate or wulfgang spurning the conclave's system of law, or even the power struggles over the morgan dam ─ can have a substantial impact on energy and commodity prices, volatile enough to derail even the most favorable of economic conditions. as of right now these financial, psychological, military, and economic conflicts of interest have only fueled inflation in the current economy and unfortunately that meant emilie could see a probable window of recession in the forecast. as a result, the federal reserve and central banks have been actively combatting inflation by aggressively raising interest rates to achieve a target number for inflation hovering closer to two percent. raising short-term interest rates might enable them to avoid a problematic economic situation but even intervening in such a manner could risk landing the economy into a recession without the need for external interference. right now, all they could do is hope for a soft landing, a state where interest rates could reach a level capable of bringing down inflation and circumventing the likelihood of a recession. while it may seem baffling to raise rates with a recession in the forecast, the nation needed to keep employment growth strong and continue to aim for full employment all the same. implementing such a policy may hinder their current economic growth and employment rates for the time being but in the long run she deemed it necessary they take rein of the climbing rates of inflation as soon as possible. measured by gross domestic product, unemployment rate, wage growth and other market indicators, recessions are marked by a trend of slowing business and consumer activity. emilie suspected it would take two consecutive quarters of gross domestic producing decreasing and unemployment rates increasing to truly regard their situation as a recession anyway. though certainly dismal in nature, entering a recession is considered a normal part of the overall business cycle. nonetheless, even if they narrowly managed to avoid an upcoming recession, slower growth would indefinitely lie ahead for the conclave. downward trends would turn their economic activity negative for a certain period of time and yet only one true question seemed to matter to citizens of the capital, investors, economists and financial experts; how long might a prospective recession last?
indentthe conclave's episodic military pursuits have always been a large determinant in the functioning of the post-war economy, fueling a rather vicious cycle of upswings and downswings in markets throughout the last few years. although military efforts can boost domestic demand, the expenses associated with war pose a considerable opportunity cost. rather than committing money to improving education or health care, funds are typically poured into mass weaponry and munitions production or rebuilding damaged infrastructure. with the government continually investing in new technology, war can certainly increase the rate of innovation or perhaps even lead to full employment or higher economic growth all around, but all of these benefits can be easily achieved without war. taking into account the opportunity cost associated with military spending, the human cost of lost lives, and the cost of restoring damage costs, financing war can easily lead to rapid rises in public sector debt. as such, emilie has always been quick to question the common assumption that war is good for business, presumably on the basis that war increases employment and production. though inherently unavoidable, war and other forms of armed conflict pose as major impediments to the economic development of their country. of course, to achieve a stable economic state where armed conflict is not a frequent occurrence, she does see it as imperative that the conclave assert dominance over competing factions found in the wasteland. the very concept is something of a tradeoff; short-term instability for what might one day be long-term economic growth. in the conclave the cost of war is often masked by national income accounting, the government's form of a bookkeeping system that indicates the health of an economy and its projected growth. lives lost as well as the destruction of both physical and human capital are typically not taken into account in the national income. additionally, the resources devoted to war efforts are often treated as final goods or services rather than costs of production. generally speaking, gross domestic product will decline in response to lower labor and factor productivity, which during times of military action can be attributed to the destruction of preexisting physical and human capital as well as the lack of investments going into new physical and human capital. economies not directly affected by armed conflict can theoretically benefit from war, but only due to heightened industrial production to satisfy the military needs of those engaged in battle, or because armed conflicts spur onward the development of new technology. regardless of whether or not war may benefit or harm the economy though, emilie has noted several trends in relationship to the conclave economy. prior to instances of major armed conflict erupting, increases in the likelihood of war have been observed to coincide to a decrease in stock prices, whereas the subsequent outbreak of military action has been noted to increase them. on the contrary, when a war breaks out without warning, this has been seen to lead to a prompt decrease in stock prices. right now there is no widely accepted explanation as to why stocks increase when war occurs after a prelude. nonetheless, downturns in the economy are impossible to avoid and throughout the years periods of economic uncertainty have been handled accordingly. as expected, new movements for economic policymaking have become imperative to constructing a system that can stabilize the economy's fluctuating responses to economic shocks such as military endeavors. close to four years ago the macroeconomic framework of post-war economics entered a new epoch, dubbed 'the keynesian synthesis era'. a theoretical reform intended to address the economy's most critical weaknesses, emilie and dr. johanna audretsch, now the current secretary of the treasury, have become the faces of this new wave of economics. as such, macroeconomic theory in particular has entered a new period where keynesianism has merit as a possible basis for economic policy for the nation as a whole. though johanna possesses a few years of seniority over emilie their correspondence in the field of economy seemed inevitable given their similar theoretical ideologies. despite having become professor emeritus since assuming office, emilie knew the older woman since she was chair of the federal reserve, all the while holding an assistant professorship position at the washington institute's department of economic sciences. over the last few years the two women's research ventures have become intimately intertwined with one another. right now they both serve as senior-level editors and founding editors-in-chief for two academic journals in the world of economy where they have established themselves of vocal proponents of the keynesian synthesis era. this new wave of macroeconomics has led to the surge of various models becoming established, each differing in economic structure, methodology, parameter estimates, and increased efforts to better understand the causes of nation-wide financial crisis and recession. many economic model builders include not only academics but researchers at central banks, treasuries and other conclave organizations. as of right now emilie's current focus in academia centers around the effects of fiscal policy on output through dynamic stochastic general equilibrium modeling to combat economic shocks like the ones they are currently seeing in the economy. as a framework, the models are particularly suitable for the analysis of fiscal policy issues and can be easily calibrated to fit the characteristics of their current economy. since DSGE models have thus far proven reliable for evaluating policy measures, the momentum they have gained in regard to fiscal policy analysis should come as no surprise. emilie was certain that using macroeconomic theory to predict and explain movements of the post-war business cycle could pose highly fruitful as a new approach to policy evaluation. in the pre-war economy ─ not nearly as prone to experiencing the same financial crises the current economy does ─ these sort of models did not include a realistic treatment of the banking sector, nor any involved economic risks. with the recent amendments made to DSGE models though, one can now analyze public tax and spending policy changes, fiscal multipliers, stimulus and even the relationship of fiscal policy and monetary policy. nonetheless, emilie could recognize that no one model would ever be completely satisfactory from a theoretical standpoint. researchers need to continue developing robust policies in order to advise policy makers, and to her and many other experts in the field of economy, DSGE models seemed highly appealing in light of their unfolding economic situation.
indenti'm not sure if you know this already but you and your lovely associates are sharing a table with my colleagues and i tonight. emilie mumbled something indistinct under her breath. she silently damned the joint congressional committee for unknowingly subjecting her to a night bound to be filled with vague unease. if she wanted to engage with sera at all then she wanted it to be on her own terms. "right, of course. i guess i know where you'll be directing your complaints after tonight then." she jested, though the words came out a bit stiffer than she intended them to. she tried not to wince at her own botched, dry delivery. was she bound to keep digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole this evening? in all honestly, it was hard for emilie to discern whether or not sera was dreading the prospect of being seated at the same table with her tonight. she certainly sounded eager to quit standing around in the sky parlor but she couldn't much blame her for that. in an effort to play off her faux-pas, emilie casually hooked her thumbs into her belt loops, leaning her weight on to her left leg. she regarded the younger woman with moderate amusement. "my 'social rounds' are in fact settled though, yes. i suppose that makes you the conclusion to my very particular sequence of intermingling. you should be flattered." her eyes glinted with humor. it's no secret emilie wasn't much interested in the sort of inconsequential conversation that often predominated social congregations like these, nor did she typically walk in to a venue with a list of people she wanted to exchange pleasantries with. "jokes aside, i hope you do not find me to be too abrasive. what can i say, lots of crowds, all this noise─ uhm, it must be getting to me already. i think i could use another drink if i ever want to make it through the rest of the night..." emilie trailed off, throwing a brief glance over her shoulder to seek the private pub across from where they were standing. in typical fashion, the economist vaguely excused her behavior and carried on without any further explanation. granted, emilie was just grateful they were in no sort of environment where sera might be able to corner her for answers. she felt better knowing the younger woman could not surprise her with any probing inquiries. to some extent, using the banquet hall's social scene as a shield granted her some rather unjust freedom of movement. being in the public eye right now helped her get away with more than she might be able to if she and sera were alone together. after all, emilie had a suspicion the other woman may be far more inclined to confront the last few months than she was. how could she ever explain why she pushed sera away without coming across as an insecure, selfish jerk? relationships are supposed to be built on honesty, compromise, communication and mutual respect and she didn't even bother solidifying herself as a source of comfort for sera a few months back when she might have needed her most. emilie's knee-jerk reaction to the other woman's involvement with the morgan family only concerned herself. she became so rapidly engulfed in her own resentment and hurt that it seemed easiest to resort to solitude. technically, sera's engagement did not have to mean the end of their relationship but that's about what it amounted to in her mind. emilie was more covetous a creature than she might like to admit, and maybe that alone has been responsible for her rather brazen behavior this evening. in fact, she felt possessed by a need, an urge to pull sera away from the crowds she now belonged to. never mind the fact the other woman didn't harbor any love for benedict; she would still have to act the part of a trusted companion, if not in the public then in the company of her future in-laws and the idea that emilie might ever be second to another in any capacity filled her with repulsion. even if she and sera ever mended their relationship, she would always be trapped under this suffocating layer of pernicious residuum, repeatedly reminding her sera was not in-fact hers to have. all of this was just theatre, then. so in that case, what did anything actually matter? emilie was no good in relationships. half the time she couldn't even figure out what the hell she actually wanted, and one way or another she would always end up tormenting herself into excessive slumps of god-fearing guilt or depraved bouts of self-victimization. she was raised an evangelical christian and the filth she devoured at a young age has never been eager to leave her alone. to some extent emilie has been denying herself her very relationship with sera long before news of any engagement gave her an excuse to finally shove the other woman away. in truth all emilie could ever offer someone was her own doubt and uncertainty and what part would anyone ever want in all that? historically speaking, the initial charm she seems to seduce people with typically goes short-lived. if it is not other women frequently growing to find her officious then it was surreptitious one-night stands or prospective lovers taking offense over her disappearance come morning time. she supposed her relationship with sera proved different, at-least for a time. she certainly tolerated emilie enough to keep her around when others have been quick to grow discontent with her. for the most part, they have always seemed to accept each other for who they are and despite her recent behavior these last few months, it was never her intent to see that sort of rare devotion stripped away from her. even when they were on good terms it seemed a miracle emilie had not somehow exacerbated sera's threshold of leniency altogether. at some point though, she would need to ask herself if it was truly worth protecting her ego if she was only going to lose sera in the process. but maybe it was already much too late to ponder such a notion at all.
indentemilie desperately needed something other than champagne to help take the edge off tonight. she was not sure she would be able to handle sera's company all evening if she did not first indulge a little bit. though her colleagues were still speaking to sera's fiancé she did not care enough to listen in on what they were discussing. emilie's attention remained tethered to sera. honestly though, with how bold she was beginning to feel right now she could probably go without the need for any more alcohol in her system. ever since she first laid eyes on sera tonight she's been starting to feel a bit too confident in her ability to entertain the other woman and obviously, as a result she was much too quick to forget the dismissive manner she's been treating her lately. all things considered, her sense of pride wasn't feeling too hindered right now. sera was actively devoting some of her time to emilie whether she wanted to or not, and she did technically consider her earlier offer, if not tentatively agreed to it altogether. the economist couldn't help but take a half-step toward sera if only to mitigate some of the distance between them. the tone of her voice became far quieter than the sound of conservation filling the sky parlor. "you know, if you give me the chance maybe i could do a better job pitching my impromptu invitation to you. dare i say you didn't seem very enthralled with me?" she questioned her, an air of cautiousness underlying her voice. of course emilie could not move on without hinting toward sera's lack of enthusiasm just moments earlier, and whether or not that had been the other woman's intent, the economist certainly perceived her response that way. "either way, i can see that i may in fact need to sweeten the pot somehow. for starters, how about this; you join me at the bar, and drinks are on me." she offered, evidently thinking herself slick. if emilie was acting out of line again then she certainly didn't realize it. being around sera proved difficult for her. in one vein, she was so determined to impress sera with her assertiveness that she would much rather risk the woman's temper than ever be seen as craven in front of her. she was pursuing her like a green-eyed monster who desperately needed to prove something, regardless of whether that might be the best approach. it was so much easier to push sera out of mind when she wasn't subject to interacting with her on a day to day basis. having to face her though, the complicated feelings she associated with the younger woman were not all that quick to abate. all sorts of things she didn't care to acknowledge came bubbling back up again and along with that, her warped and insatiable hunger to be someone sera might deem admirable. still, the economist wouldn't be much surprised if sera decided to set aside her acrimony right now to join her at the bar. she liked to think she still held some sort of sway over her these days. besides, how long has she been standing around this corner of the sky parlor like a dolled up marionette for the morgan family, anyway? she must want to move around a little bit. or does she no longer have the freedom to even do that? emilie couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness lean on her shoulder like the weight of the devil himself. though she could grasp and pull for sera's attention all she wanted tonight, in the end her pursuit of the other woman amounted to a fruitless venture. hell, maybe it always has been. what would happen if they managed to repair their relationship anyway? what would possibly come next for the two of them? emilie was wary of getting involved with affairs that concerned the presidential family to begin with. selfish as it may sound, she wasn't very keen on risking her neck if that's what committing to sera meant now. though johanna audretsch was a dear friend of hers and a respected colleague, emilie has always had her eye on the bigger prize at play, and that was to eventually assume office as secretary of the treasury. after all, she has already been renominated as chair of the council of economics advisors for a successive number of terms. a nomination to serve as secretary of the treasury and a subsequent confirmation by the senate would be the next practical advancement in her career. in the event anyone ever found out she and sera were pursuing each other despite her engagement to benedict, then it would not only be emilie with something to lose here either. what exactly might be the consequence or repercussions associated with having an affair, she did not know. in fact, she did not want to find out. a part of her thought she and sera could be discreet enough ─ have they not been practicing for some time now? ─ and that it would never come to that, but you truly never know. either way it was hard to tell what the future might bring for them. right now she wasn't so sure if they even had a future together and emilie herself may just be responsible for that. it was typical of her to starve herself of affection until she was ravenously devouring smothered feelings of yearning or longing, driving herself to the point of sickness until it was too late to stop and realize she was making a massacre of those around her. emilie has always been the type of person to cycle through vicious bouts of loathing and desire. she could indulge herself in periods of hedonism and sybaritic exploits quite easily if given the chance to, though evidently it never came without a price. she hated that it was so innate in her person to punish herself for things she wanted but given the way religion used to dictate her life as an adolescent it only made sense. in that sense it almost felt like her upbringing was all that defined her at times. she could swear her religious experiences did not hold any sway of her life but even then she would be lying. sometimes the urge to seek repentance with the lord himself would drive her to confession even now, begging forgiveness for who she was as a person and what she has done both in private and in the open. god knows your heart, they used to say. if her entire heart was filled with sin though should she repent for her entire life and ask for eternal forgiveness? would she then be spotless, without a blemish in sight?
indenther younger sister annika would certainly like to think so. the woman was frequently responsible for sending emilie into religious identity crises for days on end when she would come show her face in the capital city. honestly, it was all quite fortunate that her sister and her sanctimonious husband weren't nearly important enough to be invited to the inauguration dinner tonight. she would surely be getting hounded by annika and her religious zeal rather than talking to sera right now if that were the case. the idea of sera ever meeting annika unsettled her. honestly, she wanted to keep her sister as far away as possible from the other woman so long as she had the power to do so. emilie was no pushover but by the way her sister managed to remain a presence in her life, it certainly might look that way to an outsider. the way she saw it, her younger sister was a victim of her circumstance and a part of her felt sorry that she lived her life the way she did. if emilie were to turn her away every time she came knocking at her door, then just who exactly would annika actually have left to turn to in this world? she supposed in that regard her sister had the power to make her feel guilty in more than just one respect. since annika currently lives in new hollywood with her husband and two children, the only time emilie ever really sees her is when she accompanies her husband to the capital on account of his own business ventures. she usually doesn't have the decency to give emilie a heads up when she does come to visit though. instead she just shows up at her residence and expects to be welcomed with open arms. granted, most of the time it's all just nonsense and emilie can deal with her accordingly. she'll even begrudgingly accept the duty of looking after her niece luisa and nephew stefan for the day if annika is convincing enough. honestly though, with annika's strict christian parenting style she can't help but feel sorry for her kids. emilie often felt like she was doing them a favor by letting them escape the suffocating nature of their parents for the better portion of a day, which certainly says a lot considering she has never been particularly good at entertaining children and their wants. it's actually kind of a pitiful sight to see emilie struggle to manage children but at-least she tries to make an effort. the last time she saw her niece and nephew a couple months ago she decided to take them to the smithsonian art museum after she finished lecturing at the washington institute earlier that morning. all things considered, it's a convenient location given the buildings positioning in the capital's financial district. emilie wasn't so inept as to force the two kids to wander around and look at ancient and modern day art all day though. after receiving some feedback from a few colleagues raising kids of their own, she decided it was appropriate to take them to the southwest wing of the smithsonian known for housing the butterfly pavilion, a place where the insects can freely fly around in their climate-controlled environment and potentially land on a person given the chance. it proved an effective way to keep the children amused but she most definitely wouldn't go around readily admitting to spending her time grinning over butterflies if anyone accused her of it. most of the time though she was surprised by just how sheltered her niece and nephew were. emilie could not quite recall the amount of times either luisa or stefan admitted to never having done something before. was it not a little bizarre they have never been to the theatre with their parents before, but they have with their aunt? annika seemed like she wanted to keep her children from everything in this world and that included knowledge of much of the outside world in an effort to shield them from anything that she might consider ungodly. by painting them such a sterilized picture of the world she was raising them to be anxious of things they had no reason to be nervous about. god forbid they ever develop political intrigue, or learn of the violence that marred their country, or even the mere usage of profanity. at this point it seemed surprising that her younger sister even let her see her children at all though. after all, wasn't she supposed to be considered a bad influence on them? emilie lived her life in a way that bore no resemblance to her sisters own. she was no devout christian and most of the lifestyle choices she made were ones that her family always swore against. emilie could wager the only reason annika let her near luisa and stefan these days had a lot to do with the fact she actually let them explore the world. it seemed likely the kids only ever spoke highly of emilie. she wouldn't be surprised if they even begged to see her when they came to the capital city. though quite frankly even that would probably get on her sister's nerves too, so whatever annika was playing at, it was hard to tell. maybe she was just using her children as a way to try and guilt emilie into becoming more family-oriented again. annika has always had the gall of pretending not to know a thing about her sexuality too, which meant she was more often than not deliberately trying to find ways to get undermine emilie's own freedom. truth be told, her sister has never actually respected her as a person.
indentback when her sister first got married and emilie didn't yet understand the full extent of her twisted religious fanaticism, annika invited her to her newly purchased home in torrance and suffice to say, it was the last time emilie would ever willingly return to her residence. she and her husband had oh-so conveniently invited one of his colleagues from the los angeles financial institution firm to dine with them that night and though her sister vehemently denied emilie's accusations, she fully believed it was a futile attempt to try and set her up with the man. what a disaster that was. for some reason, everyone else at that table had been under the impression they were in the middle of some sort of double-date but it didn't really dawn on her what was going on until the night actually progressed. emilie has held position superior to many a man in her line of work before but she somehow managed to forget just how positively grating traditionalist devotees can be. even back then she was far more successful than that man would ever be, and yet she could recall he still managed to go on a number of ignorant spiels about the duty of a woman and what he deemed their rightful places in society were. at that time emilie was only recently named chairman, ceo and director of the national investment management firm and financial institution ERGO, so naturally the entire situation just felt like one huge orchestrated insult led by her sister. it seemed typical that her achievement received no praise from her family, for her successes have never been deemed worthy as cause for celebration to begin with. she knew annika has always been insistent on seeing her take interest in a man, but emilie didn't expect her to go so far as to lead her into a trap all the while knowing her sexuality. she was the one person in her family who definitively knew of her dating preferences but honestly, emilie wouldn't be surprised if she's whispered a thing or two in her mother or father's ear. already being estranged from her parents, it would make little difference to her now. her younger sister was little more than a snake, slithering into her life every few months in the hope of successfully sinking her fangs right into her exposed flesh. things have not always been so hateful between her and annika but with the vastly different paths they both pursued in life, they were all but bound to become strangers in every respect. if they were not of the same blood they certainly wouldn't have anything to do with each other. after all, emilie's sisterly concern for annika is the only real reason she's yet to sever the bonds of their pugnacious relationship. her younger sister seemed to fundamentally change the day she took her wedding vows. religion has always been a part of both of their lives, sure, but even emilie had reservations over the pious family she married into. annika has become so indoctrinated in the pursuit of her faith that she couldn't even recognize her own hypocrisy anymore. spew on about loving thy neighbor or withholding judgement as she might, she didn't actually practice much of the so-called christian values she liked to go on and preach about. the truth is, she's a self-righteous and captious person who likes to demean other people under the pretense of following god's intended will. additionally, to think that following a religion is the only way someone can lead a decent and moral life seems an arrogant notion in and of itself. with her holier-than-thou attitude, annika was no different from the next ignorant fanatic. every conversation they seem to have ends up revolving around religion to some extent, and as much as emilie had no interest humoring her deluded convictions, setting boundaries with the younger woman has never proven easy. emilie would never tolerate religious drivel intended to persuade her of changing her lifestyle or backhanded insults from anyone the same way she would from her sister. annika would keep exploiting emilie's tolerance for her for as long as she let her though. the young woman was probably due to visit her again sometime within the next few months and when that time came, emilie would once again make justifications to keep her sister a part of her life. annika was certainly old enough to take care of herself now and she didn't need emilie to look out for her but still, she felt it would be wrong to shut her out and leave her to the sharks. ever since childhood she's always felt some sort of obligation to take responsibility for her sister and her wellbeing, and that's probably because their parents have always been emotionally deficient people. either way, it was safe to say the banquet hall was ten times more peaceful right now than it would be if annika were ever invited to the inauguration dinner. the economist took a slight step back from sera, suggestively tipping her head in the direction of the bar. "so?" emilie had no intention of making sera uncomfortable with her ogling but she was finding it rather difficult to take her eyes off the younger woman. with the way she was dressed tonight she certainly made it hard not to stare and emilie couldn't much keep her eyes from travelling a second time around. the economist wet her lips with a swipe of her tongue, briefly feasting on the cerulean fabric that hugged sera's chest before her eyes quickly flickered back up to her face. the side of her mouth began to curl up into a rather self-assured slant upon meeting her gaze again. her brazenness was nothing new. "ladies first." she insisted, giving her a subtle wink. emilie would be quick to fall in step behind the woman if she chose to come join her, and if not, then she supposed she would see her at their table soon enough. what was one more blow to her ego anyway?

[vaermina]

ＣＯＮＳＴＡＮＣＥ ＡＤＬＥＲxxx
I.xdemigirlx II.xthe rebellionx III. an entertainer known as dahlia


indentconstance smiled. her cheeks burned when he tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "aheh, i remember that one." edwin had a point. danny had so many tales and stories up his sleeve he could easily write his own saga of ridiculously contrived and fabricated epics. they were all utterly ridiculous but oddly entertaining, and danny's lack of shame and easy wits made him sound almost believable sometimes. almost. constance could easily picture danny taking issue to some thieving amouxes but she could not imagine him being the crowned victor of that fight. amouxes are small, feisty and notoriously mischievous but absolutely terrifying for reasons that are obvious to the average wastelander. constance was not sure how he's managed to live this long. probably because he has a bunch of people willing to clean up after him. she did not fault him for his zany personality, no matter how ill-timed it could be. there were far worse personas in this life to take up than being that of an avant-garde and farcical old man. constance raised an eyebrow at edwin's joke, their smile quickly shifting into something of a puckish grin. "why, aren't you just a doll?" she said waggishly. she reached up with a stray hand to give him a gentle pat on the cheek. "since the two of you are becoming such phenomenal warriors, perhaps you can get me one of those fancy plasma swords when you're ready to set your sights on those big military goons? i've always wanted a pink one but i don't mind a purple one, either. i'm not picky, " she joked. constance would probably end up accidentally cutting her own hand off if she tried to wield one of those things. there's a reason why it took years for conclave soldiers to master the art of plasma weaponry, and even then she's heard of some of them routinely taking andragogy classes to keep their skills sharp and reflexes quick. it sounded like a lot of work but then again, constance would probably undertake the same assiduous mindset if she could learn to wield a weapon that deflects bullets and slices through metal. some people argue that it was a type of weapon that had no business being wielded by the greedy and oftentimes violent flippers of humanity but there was little that could be done about it now. constance looked to karelsa with newfound interest upon edwin's review of the last few days. constance shifted around on the bench so she could roll onto her stomach, her chest pressing against edwin's thighs and her hands coming to rest against his lap so she could peer up at karelsa. "tchaikovsky's violin concerto? i-" she was interrupted by the young girl's excited outburst, but she did not mind. constance listened patiently as karelsa went on an energetic ramble. constance knew a little bit about the history behind pyotr illyich tchaikovsky's violin concerto. it was composed by a russian melodist of the romantic period who wrote some of the most popular theatrical music in the current classical repertoire such as swan lake and the nutcracker. to be sure, tchaikovsky was an interesting figure of musical history. he was a man punctuated by personal crises and mental health issues, and often bombarded and criticized by his peers for composing pieces that they felt did not sufficiently represent russia's native musical values. his creations were unique as in they came about during a time when his country's national identity was beginning to fracture, with its native and adopted elements beginning to suffer a severe fracture from russian culture as a whole. it was no wonder why tchaikovsky developed a tenuous relationship with his motherland, for his identity and the relationship he shared with his country had never been strong. constance liked to speculate that it could have had to something to do with the country's suffering nationalism during that time period. tchaikovsky died about two decades before the october revolution, an uprising led by the petrograd soviet whom violently overthrew czar nicholas the second, the monarch whose family had ruled russia for three centuries. social bedlam has a way of affecting even the strongest of individuals, but it certainly did not help that the composer's personal life was rife with sorrow. she always found the story behind his violin concerto to be quite sorrowful. tchaikovsky wanted to dedicate his concerto to losif kotek, his composition pupil and esteemed violinist but seemed to understand the potential backlash that would arise concerning his true relationship with the other man. he was joined by kotek at a swiss resort on the shores of lake geneva, and it was wholeheartedly possible that the other man somehow inspired tchaikovsky to work on the composition for the concerto. she's read the letters that tchaikovsky wrote to his brother anatoly on the progress of his work, and how he would have been unable to do anything without kotek for he was dutifully dedicated to progressing the concerto. unfortunately, he ended up breaking with kotek three years later after the latter refused to play the violin concerto, believing it was poorly received and would damage his flourishing career. he was right; the composition premiered in vienna to scathing reviews and a muted audience response. as far was constance knew, their relationship remained deeply severed following kotek's rejection and it did not improve until tchaikovsky ended up visiting kotek in switzerland when the younger man decided to travel to davos for medical treatment. he stayed with him for nearly a week before returning to moscow. he considered returning when he received news that kotek's tuberculosis worsened, but ultimately decided against it. kotek died the following month and tchaikovsky followed him into the grave eight years later on what would have been kotek's thirty sixth birthday.
indentconstance found that most classical composers lived grave, somber and often short lives. most of them were taunted by the sudden deaths of loved ones such as austrian composer alban berg, who wrote a heartfelt concerto in memory of his daughter who died of polio in nineteen thirty five. czeck composer dvorak was not much different. he dedicated his cello concerto to his deceased sister-in-law, josefina, who he had developed a keen affection for; he included a tribute to her near the end of the last movement by inserting a dreamy folk melody that she had loved to sing. "well, if you want to hear countless biographies of musicians and composers whose lives were cut short by harrowing tragedies and unimaginable horrors, you found the right people," constance joked. "either way, i'm glad you've been finding it easier to work through your pieces. that's so exciting! i would love to hear you play sometime." constance turned her head to watch nick and kason across the way. she was happy to hear that karelsa has been practicing over the last few days, and even more pleased to hear that edwin has been helping her. she always found it endearing when he took it upon himself to help the children in their group. the wasteland was notoriously harsh for the treatment of its young, and there are plenty of people out there who care little for taking care of those younger and more feeble than themselves. children are often the ones most victimized by the world they currently live in. they need to be cared for and nurtured, educated by their elders and protected by the terrors of life until they are old enough to defend themselves. of course, constance agreed with the sentiment that they should learn how to defend themselves - it's only reasonable given the world's situation - but there was only so much learning that children can absorb on their own. they need direction, order, guidance, anything to help them differentiate between right and wrong. constance and the rest of the adults in the crew tried their best to educate and illuminate the kids. they do not focus on the art of music and thespianism alone. the youngsters in their group are put on a strong curriculum that focuses on general education such as mathematics, language arts, science and history; the area of study based on these core subjects depends on each kid's age, comfort and academic placement. for example, pipsqueak and arno were learning how to count their numbers and write basic words while malacai and adaline were learning pre-algebraic concepts and grammar composition. they all helped contribute to their teachings; fairfax's proficiency in finances made him an excellent math teacher, and babette's former occupation as a midwife blessed her with ample knowledge of health and medicinal practices. constance helped wherever she could. they were more of a jack of all trades, master of none than anything else. constance herself grew up with very little in ways of education, and most of what she knew she learned after she joined the rebellion. it was important to be educated nowadays, and a real privilege considering so many wastelanders are not given the opportunity to advance their stations through edification. knowledge was considered sacred in the revolution. children born into the rebellion are taught by dedicated educators until they become of age, and anyone can sign up for vocational programs that focus on career education or technical skills required to complete the tasks of a particular job like becoming an artisan, tradesperson or technician - all jobs that somehow benefit the revolution's mission out in the wasteland. the rebellion receives the materials and proper coursework for these programs through its partnership with the university of advanced technology, the only educational institution in the united states that provides secondary schooling for the wasteland population. not to mention, the ever so tireless work of the rebellion's scribes and archivists have allowed the rebellion to yield an impressive array of stored documents, books, texts and preserved technology to help further the education and knowledge of its members. these collections can be found at domum libertatis, a vault located deep within the badlands that serves as the heart and center of the rebellion's operations. nearly anything of supreme value and philosophy can be found at headquarters, and those who manage the organization's athenaeum where such collections are stored will usually pay their colleagues a pretty penny to retrieve high-value tomes and technology for them. pre-war artifacts are the most coveted but extremely rare - if the tests of time have not destroyed them, there were already in the hands of the conclave or some other wasteland group. still, every book is considered a blessing and you can find dozens - if not hundreds - of various texts written by various authors that focus on one singular subject in the vault's athenaeum. she always liked to browse their latest acquisitions whenever they happened to return to headquarters although the more uncommon and delicate books were only available to the athenaeum's workers. it was important to not only educate yourself but preserve the knowledge of the past and help prevent mistakes from being repeated once more. the conclave is notoriously scathing towards publications that do not align with their goals or misrepresent their values and core functions, hence the government's elements of censorship and political opposition to the rival materials in question. there's a reason why members of the conclave are so deeply indoctrinated; there is hardly any material out there available in their traditional settings that goes against the propaganda that has been shoved down their throats since birth.
indentconstance tapped their index finger against edwin's knee. "well, that about sums it up perfectly," she sighed. "it hasn't been hard treating people per say, but we're starting to run out of medical supplies. we're begun to hit the bottom of our gauze and bandage supply, and we've already run out of several medications. babs has been using some medicinal plants whenever it's safe to do so but those aren't really helpful for heavy bleeding and the like. a lot of those herbs can do more harm than good. we're gonna need some more supplies, though and sooner rather than later." they haven't admitted any patients with debilitating injuries because they did not have the equipment or supplies to treat people with severe injuries. wastelanders with ailments such as eternal bleeding, head injuries, organ damage or infected wounds that promised a future amputation had to be turned away and directed back to arcadia, for the medical tent that had been constructed outside the city gates was far better equipped to treat such enervative impairments. "it doesn't seem like we're doing too good on food either, huh? i mean, we've had a couple dozen extra mouths to feed this week so it's no wonder our stocks are dwindling. i think we may have some canned goods left? if not we're gonna have to start serving people mud pies and grass soufflé, and even that's a stretch considering all the grass around here is dead. we might have to pull out the ole wasteland survival guide and look at its recipes. clover and chickweed stew, mhmm, chef's kiss." she tried to keep a lighthearted tone for karelsa's sake; constance probably brought enough grimness to the conversation by mentioning the stabbed soldier. truthfully, there has been very little trade going on since the area went into lockdown. it'd be foolish of them to expect some merchants or caravans to show up and relieve them of their woes. the outpost had some canned goods in reserve for times like these but kernel corn, green beans, sliced carrots and black beans made for a tedious supper at best. still, it was better than nothing and they were probably much better off than some people in the area. constance was happy to help wherever she could. it was certainly distressful to witness so many people fall victim to the recent chaos but constance could not deny the fact that she was familiar with that level of regional furor. she was practically numb to the sight of blood and guts. she grew up in the wasteland, and oftentimes hung around towns and settlements where not even the most egotistical and brazen conclave elite would dare try and prove their stoutness at. she has grown familiar with street violence, bodies in the gutters, questionable figures lurking in the alleyways, ominous strangers skulking around bars - the air in those places always smelled heavy of stale mud, horse, rotten meat and wet dog. it was a type of sinister not found in large wastelander cities but ones that were smaller and more isolated, where crime and other undesirables ran rampant beneath the tutelage of corrupted or absent law enforcement figures. they were teeming with people who were hiding from law enforcement, debt collectors and crime bosses; all around a bunch of vagabonds and miscreants who had no qualms getting their hands dirty. constance used to hang around those types of crowds, and there were times where she would have to brandish a knife and spill blood in order to defend herself from individuals with ill intentions. she's seen people stabbed in the streets during the peak of the wasteland's sordid night life, and she's witnessed people shot in taverns or jumped at bars over small misunderstandings. the violence did not always occur in wastelander-situated settings, either. she's spent a good amount of time as a nurse assistant in conclave military camps out west that she's witnessed the true horrors of war. she's helped take care of soldiers who had their limbs blown off by detonation devices or hacked off with medical saws to stem the threat of encroaching infection; other times, she would help tend to men and women who bore deep, festering bullet wounds that sometimes went so deep that one could see things better left inside the human body.
indentconstance always found the worst moments to be soldiers who experienced grievous malfunctions with their power armor suits. while rare, those accidents often happened when they failed to keep up with their armor's periodic maintenance checks, and significant amounts of damage sustained to the suits while they were out in the wasteland would usually result in one of the suit's limbs exploding and sending bits and pieces of metal shrapnel into the wearer's flesh. it was truly a horrific sight when the pieces of metal were jagged enough to rip into a soldier's stomach and, well, some memories were better left buried. the very ruthlessness and brutality of humanity's dark side became such a familiar sight that nothing fazed her once she reached adulthood. she was so numb to the concept of physical and mental pain that she did not even register the gravity of her own situation when she developed the infection that later led to the loss of her lower legs. it felt like life was just simply that: pain, misery and straggling willpower. in the eyes of a young constance, it seemed that blood was meant to spill out of the body just as much as it was meant to keep it alive. she would have died young if she had allowed herself to swim in that pool of tragic empathy, for the horror of her situation and the apocalyptic setting in which she lived in would have destroyed her. wastelanders spend so much of their energy just struggling to stay alive that there was no time to register personal discomforts, trauma, unease and even the vague promises of dreams and aspirations. constance was grateful that the rebellion has given her the opportunity to heal in her own way but old habits die hard; she could not help but still feel hints of phlegmatic stoicism towards the wasteland's common cruelty despite the easy compassion and concern that she held for other people. she could not afford to let her own emotions mar her ability to help others but that exact line of thinking was often why constance found herself the butt of cruel japes and mockery at the hands of conclave officials. she did not establish boundaries or limits for herself in light of what she perceived as her duty to the revolution and the more hapless individuals of the wasteland, and her habit of swallowing her discomforts and unease was what often led to her doubling down in sudden coldness or lashing out - a final act of the cycle that was often weeks or even months in the making. realizing that they had fallen into a momentary pause of silence, constance cleared their throat. "anyhow," she said airily, "as much as i would love to lay here all evening, i'm afraid the scenery is lacking a few apple trees, a picnic blanket and a green hill or two. not that you two aren't a lovely sight. after all, i can't find an authentic edwin albrecht or karelsa knox wandering the wilds nowadays," she teased. "actually, with all the conclave technology nowadays and androids slowly becoming more human-like, maybe that's not a far-off scenario. okay. in all seriousness, we should go and see maven. i know she's been working on something for us the past few days. we can drop off your cases and sheet music at your cots before heading over. karelsa, you should come with us to talk to maven." careful not to accidentally elbow edwin in the crotch, constance maneuvered herself back up into a sitting position before clamoring to her feet. she waited patiently for edwin and karelsa to gather their things before she followed them over to where the cots were so they could put away their instruments.
indentthey eventually found maven in the center of the basement. she has spent the past few days at her command table, directing her fellow rebels and overlooking the documents and files in the outpost's possession. there was a mobile corkboard next to the table where she worked that displayed dozens of pinned papers, cards, photographs, maps, newspaper headings and certificates. maven was standing in front of the board with her back turned to them. as the three entertainers approached the table - constance herself had squeezed in between edwin and karelsa and walked with both of her arms linked with theirs - she was able to make sense of what most of the clippings said. a lot of them appeared to be stolen documents on conclave military affairs while others were newspaper clippings of wasteland civil unrest, controversial legislative decisions, large-scale bandit attacks, dotted maps and conference outlines which focused on national affairs and ventures. there were photos of prestigious conclave officials pinned on the board and connected together with string and cards of unintelligible writing plastered beneath. there were a number of rebel outposts that had corkboards similar to maven's, where dozens of important and often incriminating conclave records and evidence were put on display for further scrutiny. domum libertatis had an entire room dedicated to something like that with nothing but hundreds upon hundreds of documents, files, clippings, photos and other evidence plastered to the walls for group analysis and inquiry. the vault's archivists believed in keeping an open line of discussion when it came to what the government was planning, and the best way to do that was keep documents on display for their fellow rebels to scrutinize. every opinion counts and nearly everyone within the past year all landed on the same conclusion: the next few years were going to yield big and downright unprecedented legislation across the country. the revolution has studied the government's contradictory ideologies, development, policies and growing influence for decades now. the patterns were becoming clear. changes were coming. it has become almost devastatingly perspicuous to the revolution that they were dealing with a force so sinister and power-hungry that it has been in the makings long before nuclear fire consumed the earth. and the puppeteers behind the curtains? the very family that conclave society has grown to respect, adore and even vehemently worship. there have always been warning signs and red flags throughout the years concerning the conclave's goals and intentions. they claim that they want to restore society and rebuild america, but it's become abrasively clear that the society they want has no room for people like constance, edwin and their fellow colleagues. they want the safety, luxury and imagery of pre-war america but they do not want its policies, freedoms and its melting pot of colorful minds and contributing individuals. since they left the safety of their vaults, the conclave has made it clear that their ideals and paragons were different than what everyone else had in mind. the nuclear war wiped the earth clean. the human race can rebuild but what new society did they want to create? what rules, policies, ideologies, common thinking and laws do they want their new world to have? who should share in the glory of the new world and be pulled free from the nuclear hellscape that has claimed the planet for the past three hundred years? the morgan family had a few ideas of their own in mind. they were already a popular and influential clan considering the conclave's founder, wilder morgan, helped conquer the wasteland for his people but the recent presidency of his son rehan morgan has further cemented their legacy. rehan morgan has not only served in the military but served as attorney general before his ascent to the executive branch, and he has long since been heralded as a 'down-to-earth' and 'humble' man. people liked him because he was not afraid to get things done, and he was not afraid to rain hellfire down upon anyone who threatened the livelihood of his people. that was more than previous presidents could say. everybody knows that the men and women who held office before president rehan morgan were unintelligent and spineless people. they were all bite and no bark, and their hesitant or brash personalities often brought trouble, as shown by the first battle of morgan dam, the memorial day parade bombing, the unchecked rise of the black hand and other events of polarizing natures. it was no mere coincidence that big changes started to happen once president morgan was elected: the black hand destroyed, large bandit hoards such as wulfgang and messalina's legion pushed back, smaller bandit gangs demolished entirely, a surplus in military enrollment after nearly a decade of slipping recruitment numbers. no, president morgan's almost beeline record to glory was no coincidence. the revolution had their suspicions on the legitimacy of the conclave's former presidents, and whether or not they were scapegoats meant to take the fall for incompetency so president morgan and his family could move in and 'fix' their disasters. there was a certain cult of following surrounding rehan morgan and his clan. and why not? he was the only president since his father who expressed a single care beyond that of his own gains. he pushed back against enemy organizations and bandit gangs when they threaten his citizens and their endeavors, and he was not afraid to intimidate congress and other lawmakers into submission. he traveled to conclave-operated territories to survey the damage whenever they were attacked by raider hoards, and he claimed to fight for the common man by limiting the power of big corporations and institutes that would otherwise have no issue taking advantage of the small fish in the sea.
indentit was all just the building blocks for something far more greater and sinister to move in. headquarters believed that within the next four years, president rehan morgan and his cabinet were going to urge congress to repeal the twenty second amendment, abolishing term limits for the executive branch. it would likely happen sometime after the 2435 midterms when most of congress is up for reelection. with the help of lobbyists and other influential figures, politicians who support president morgan and his family would most likely fill the seats of their predecessors, and help further cement the executive branch's control over the conclave's lawmaking body. it would not take much convincing for president morgan's wishes to come true if his critics were pushed out of their seats during midterms and replaced with some of his fiercest supporters. the possibility of the twenty second amendment being repealed should seem like some radicalistic dream but constance and her colleagues knew better than to rely on false hope. the executive branch has already enjoyed powers not since by its prewar counterpart such as the lack of checks and balances, but the treatment of constitutional amendments resides in congress's hands alone. but not for long. if the twenty second amendment was repealed than not only would president morgan stay in office until his death but his presidential cabinet would remain at his side, and that was only just the beginning. the president and his followers may have successfully brainwashed and inculcated their citizens but the rest of the wasteland saw them for who they were. the conclave was nothing short of a fascist, authoritarian dictatorship hidden beneath the ploy of democracy. they rejected liberalism, true democracy, the rule of law, and human rights, stressing instead the subordination of the individual to the state and the necessity of strict obedience to leaders. the carnage they have wrought on the wasteland population has yet to affect the individuals of conclave society, but there was no telling what could happen when the executive branch begins to garner more power and limit the rights of its own citizens. there was the possibility that the conclave might shift into an autocracy where they used legal means to give their actions a semblance of legality, but every large decision for every sector would come to fall onto the president and his cabinet. they would be responsible for the government's decisions alone. they would either remove or eliminate the conclave's current bigshot tycoons who refused to cooperate with them, and that could range from simply forcing them out of their seats or murdering them in their sleep. they would take control over everything they can get their hands on, and that included big corporations like financial institutions, investor-owned utilities, food processing companies and commodity and trading conglomerates. it would be easy for them to force their opponents into submission if they controlled every viable sector of the conclave's economy and labor. there would be no opposition from the general public because the executive branch controls the military. the president himself is the head of state and commander-in-chief of all the armed forces. he could utilize the military to quite literally mow down anyone who decided to fight back against his takeover. and who would be able to stop the sea of soldiers in power armor, tanks, machine guns, automatic rifles, battle-hardened androids, plasma swords, artillery, missile systems and even nuclear warheads? there is a reason why the military outnumbers every other sector in conclave society, and why the government relies on their troops to keep order instead of forming state-based law enforcement groups. there would be nobody to protect the conclave's citizens from the very people they revere. but then again, would there even be a ton of resistance to a total government takeover? the people of the conclave have been indoctrinated and propagandized since birth for over eighty years, and there was more than enough evidence to prove that that level of brainwashing was going on in the vaults that they once took shelter in. decades upon decades upon centuries of rigid indoctrination, generation upon generation soaking up the conclave's ideologies, discipline and obedience. the rebellion was fighting a beast that has been spreading its plague for centuries. there is a reason why wilder morgan made plans for his children to finish his life work. whatever the conclave was brewing, whatever its highest executives and top dogs were scheming, it had to be some labyrinth of a plan with thousands of smaller branches and networks. if the executive branch truly planned to suck the power and wealth out of its citizens and become the only source of authority in the conclave, there was no telling what could happen. there were plenty of people in the conclave who did not enjoy the luxuries of their elitist superiors - average soldiers, men and women in the labor and retail industries, entry-level government officials, average tradespersons - who would probably not even bat an eye at the executive branch seizing power outside their jurisdiction but that sentiment would not be shared by everyone.
indenttruthfully, all of this was mere speculation based on a number of factors, evidence and controls but a handful of senior rebels were convinced that change was coming, and whether or not the conclave's followers chose to follow their leaders had yet to be seen. it was clear that the morgan family and their cronies had a vision in mind for the country's future, and their citizens could either follow them into the new world or die in their old one. the conclave had no issue dehumanizing and eradicating the wasteland population so what's not to say they won't do the same to their own citizens, should said people refuse to heed their leadership? it was obvious that the conclave's leaders cared only for themselves, and everyone else - including their own people - were considered disposable. it was pure evil. it was evil to use and slaughter people you consider 'untouchable' but to be willing to do the same to your own citizens, the very group who admires you and practically handed you the power you currently wield? it was wicked and cruel. it was terrifying to think that they were going against an evil that has been twisting and churning and scheming for centuries now. headquarters theorizes that the beginnings of the conclave could be traced back all the way to the pre-war era, where a radical section of the then crumbling government took the future of america into their own hands by creating the blueprint of what would later be deemed the last scion of democracy. they knew that nuclear war was coming, and they knew that america would need new leaders once the world went dark. but instead of creating a republic that took into account the failures and misgivings of its predecessors, they decided to bury their hands into the dirt of time and resurrect the ideologies and political organizations that killed millions of people in the past. they wanted to be the founding fathers of a new world but more importantly, a new world order. they triggered a chain reaction that led them to where they were now. it was strange how constance knew nothing about any of this back when she was roaming the wasteland. she always considered the conclave to a bunch of stuck-up jackasses who were quick to run their mouths but too cowardly to face the consequences of their actions, and she was still right but it was so much more than that. the mounting violence, civil unrest, economic struggles, class differences: it was going to get even worse. if president rehan morgan and his cabinet do decide to seek a repeal of the twenty second amendment, it was going to set forward a chain of events that not even the rebellion could accurately hypothesize. they could sit here all day and analyze what the government's next move will be but they don't truly know. hell, it was possible that everything they believe will happen will not even occur the way they think it will. the unknown in this situation was frightening. according to headquarters, the file that their colleagues were supposed to smuggle out of fort themus was a true game-changer. that file had the capacity to change not only how the rebellion is viewed but it could even make ripples within conclave society, and that was something no file ever obtained before could claim. she could understand why such high-stakes were put into that mission but in the end, it was all for naught. they lost the file and a handful of courageous confrères. it left a bitter taste in constance's mouth.
indentmaven turned around when she caught wind of approaching footsteps. she smiled at them. "ah, edwin, constance, karelsa. i know i saw you guys a few hours ago but i think i'm beginning to lose track of time down in this basement. either way, i'm glad to see you. i was gonna send someone to fetch you. i think i finally got something for you guys."
indent"oh?" constance allowed her arms to fall from edwin and karelsa's. "you don't sound particularly enthused. how are you doing?"
indentmaven waved off her concerns almost impatiently. it was obvious that the older woman was in no mood for small talk as shown by her decision to immediately get down to business. as the outpost's sole commanding officer, the stress of trying to keep everything running smooth following arcadia's lockdown was taking a toll on her but maven was not the type of person to confide in others. "i'm doing fine," she said almost curtly. it was obvious she did not want to talk about it. "i'm hoping for a break in the horizon soon. i know you guys are probably tired of being cooped up here. it so happens i have the perfect solution for that. well, i'm not sure it's a perfect fix and it certainly won't be a walk in the park but hear me out." she opened up a large folder before spreading a plethora of photographs across the table's surface. constance picked one up curiously. it looked like it was taken with a polaroid camera. it was hard to make out what she was looking at. they could detect what looked like an old but towering fence line, topped with curled barbed wire and cracked search lights. "i need your help. a few days ago i received word from one of our scouts, miah helinsworth, that they were ambushed northwest of here by a group of scavengers when they were transporting a dreg from one of our safehouses. miah was with three other rebels when it happened; she was the only one out of her companions who survived the attack, but the scavengers managed to kidnap the android during the chaos. we believe that they took the dreg to millard's salvage, a junkyard located a few miles northwest of here." she nodded at the picture constance was holding. "that's a picture of its fence line. some of my scouts took these photos a long time ago of the junkyard and its surrounding perimeters. it was established by the conclave a couple decades ago when they were settling the area and building the local military bases but when they abandoned it, it became a common dumping site for the locals until these scavengers moved in. it's very likely these guys are going to try and dismantle that android for its parts. as far as i'm aware, the black market pays a pretty penny for second generation android parts. i don't know, something about them having rare tech that can't be found in your average circuit board."
indent"i see." constance looked at edwin and karelsa briefly before back at the polaroid photos. "what's the story with this dreg?"
indent"he calls himself zero. he's a second generation android so he's not as advanced as his third generation counterparts, but he's pleasant enough. to be honest, he's a bit quiet and lacks humor, but he's curious of the world and expresses a desire to be free of his government restraints. he worked as a gunner in a military town in the commonwealth before he began to have some malfunctions with his motion detection sensors. one of our undercover technicians met him when she was doing general maintenance on the town's androids. that's how this whole stint began. after we received word that zero was to be transferred to houston, we managed to nab him by ambushing his travel envoy while it was on its way to the city. apparently, they were going to transport him by aircraft but decided against it last minute upon receiving warnings of raróg sightings in the area. our fellow rebels managed to get him all the way up near arcadia without any significant blunders until the scavengers attacked." maven sighed. "this is where you guys come in. i need you to infiltrate that junkyard and smuggle zero out of there. your wagon would be perfect for transporting him across the countryside, especially now with the local officials all puffed up about fort themus's break-in. look, i'm not gonna lie to you. it'll be dangerous. the people who took zero may be scavengers but they're no less violent or greedier than bandits. they won't give up zero without a fight." most people are afraid of androids. they are a type of creature that average wastelanders cannot and will not comprehend. they are stronger, quicker and more durable than humans - even the second generation androids can take a number of bullets and still approach you without faltering. they possess the type of inhuman strength where squeezing someone's head is like breaking a rotten melon for them. the scavengers must be desperate to capture one. that, or just plain avaricious. the rebellion has been helping androids escape the conclave for decades. they worked primarily with third generation androids - the ones grown in labs that look virtually undistinguishable from an ordinary human - such as recruiters and gunners but it was not rare for them to work with second generation androids like zero. it was just uncommon. there are differing opinions across the rebellion on whether or not it was resourceful to rescue older android generations. some claim they are just dolled-up robots and are nowhere near as advanced and intelligent as their third generation counterparts while others push that if they are intelligent enough to recognize the bondages of their own slavery, they deserve to be saved.
indent"i'm always happy to help out a dreg in need but how much firepower are these scavengers packing? we don't have the type of weaponry to go charging in mowing down everyone in our path."
indentmaven smiled at them. her grin was almost cheeky. "have i ever given you cause to doubt me? you won't need to go running in there shooting your guns like madmen and hoping your bullets hit the mark. no, you're gonna need a plan to smuggle zero out of the junkyard without getting him or yourselves killed in the process." she pulled a photo out of the pile and set it down in front of them. she tapped her index finger against the photo. "see this shed in the photograph, tucked behind the fence? it's located on the northeast corner of the junkyard's lot, right up against the fence line. there's a perceptive termination military bot inside that you're going to use against the scavengers. before you start scoffing at me, hear me out. this military bot was utilized by the conclave when they first built the junkyard. they used it to keep undesirables from sneaking inside. it was practically their chief security enforcer until the local military officials abandoned the lot. don't ask me why but instead of taking the military bot elsewhere, they had it decommissioned and locked inside an iron shed on the premises. this thing is older than karelsa here, and it's been sitting in a dormant state for over a decade now. you're going to use it against the scavengers." maven's smile turned almost wryly. "but don't get it twisted. these bots may be old technology compared to what the conclave is currently working on but they are feared across the wasteland for a reason. these things have been known to level buildings and blow people to pieces. two words: overwhelming firepower. this thing does not have any missiles or mini warheads on its person but it still boasts multiple machine guns with ballistic and explosive ammo. that's probably a good thing. it'd kill you guys, zero, the scavengers and everyone in a fifty foot radius if it still had any of its mini nukes."
indentconstance had to resist the urge to guffaw. "and how are we going to get it working? not to ment-"
indent"will you let me finish?" maven snorted. "the military bot is connected to an old terminal. if you can successfully hack the terminal, you'll be able to turn on the military bot and program it to attack the scavengers. it's old technology compared to the handprint security bypasses and whatnot the conclave uses nowadays. now, you'll need to create some sort of diversion so you can reach the shed in one piece. if the scavengers are distracted by something going on at the junkyard's entrance, they'll leave everything else unguarded and that includes zero and the shed. someone will need to find zero while someone else focuses on the military bot. don't worry, they would not risk touching that bot in a million years. they're too afraid of it. but you guys? you'll need it if you want to pull this off successfully. i know half of your crew is made up of children so the scavengers outnumber you in terms of fighting hands. this bot won't just level the playing field, it'll destroy it. the scavengers will be too busy running around like chickens with their heads cut off to realize you're making off with their precious dreg. after that, you'll need to transport zero to cherry lake. it's a wastelander town built on, well, a lake that's located a few miles west of the junkyard. i have some contacts there who will take him off your hands. now, it's too dangerous for them to meet you personally so they're going to send their c0ds-wall0p unit to greet you and take you to their safehouse. he calls himself gigabit plex. for now, anyway. i believe he tried to get everyone to call him 'generic war domination machine' a few months back. i assume you've met him before?"
indentconstance smiled at that. "unfortunately yes." gigabit plex was a c0ds-wall0p unit that was found and restored back to working conditions by members of the rebellion's dixon wasteland branch. they were one of the earliest robots created by the conclave, and all were programmed with smart-aleck and overtly eccentric personalities. although each unit was slightly different, they almost universally exhibited eccentric behavior and annoying tendencies and habits, such as regularly shirking responsibilities. because of this, and their relative uselessness when it came to even the most menial jobs, most of them were later destroyed by the conclave but some like gigabit were miraculously spared. gigabit was an interesting character. the bot has been programmed with an overenthusiastic and witty personality, and brags frequently, yet also appeared to regularly express severe loneliness and cowardice. he was annoying at best but relatively harmless, and they've encountered him once or twice before when transporting dregs to his human companions. the last time they saw him he spooked one of their horses and ended up having his eye kicked out, to which he then spent a good thirty minutes running into things and tripping over his own wheel as he led them to his companions.
indent"ah, yes, i must say i do not envy you the task of meeting him. however, when it comes to the military bot i'm afraid that thing is your only option of pulling this off successfully. most of the terminal's firewalls have already been abrasively corroded from lack of maintenance so it should not be difficult to hack into the robot's interface. i could be wrong though. edwin, do you think you can handle the military bot? i know you have some experience with technician-related work."
indent"of course he can! he is his father's son, after all. what's an old hinky dinky robot to an albrecht?" constance beamed, a hand reaching over to run up edwin's arm encouragingly. perhaps she was a bit too eager to put words into his mouth, but she was not worried about the military bot. she trusted edwin's expertise, even if programming an old military bot was something of a new venture for him. she knew he would not cut corners trying to recalibrate that hunk of bolts, not when that military bot had the capability to turn on them and riddle them full of bullet holes. the last thing constance wanted was to become a chunk of walking swiss cheese. "who knows, maybe we can replace danny and mikey with our new befriended military bot. lord knows it would be more useful than they are."

[vaermina]

ＳＥＲＡＰＨＩＮＡ ＰＥＴＳＣＨＡＵＥＲxxx
I.xcis femalex II.xthe conclave governmentx III. director of the federal bureau of investigation


indent"you are abrasive," sera responded almost bluntly. "but all things considering, it is probably one of your finer traits." she expected nothing less from emilie. it was obvious that the older woman had no desire to elucidate her actions, and sera was beginning to think that the lure of a good expository was growing tiresome to heed. emilie would never be forthright with her because that would mean revealing unpleasantries about herself that were best left untouched. there were many obstacles that have so far thwarted and poisoned their relationship, each one more grievous than the last. the impediments were endless: harrowing self-esteem, traditional gender norms, societal expectations, workplace discrimination, scorn from the faithful and their religious doctrines. nothing about their relationship has ever been simple or straight-forward, and sera would be lying if she said she was not beginning to find it exhausting. sometimes she found herself wondering if it would be easier to cut the cord and put an end to this farcical cycle. have they ever been truly happy together? their relationship had been decent until sera's engagement, and now she had no idea what their future would look like. do they even have a future together? truth be told, sera's engagement did not change anything between them. it simply put their situation into perspective and forced them back into an unpleasant reality. there were truths that they had never been too keen on accepting, and the harsh materiality of high society had no qualms forcing its normality on them. the top drawer would never accept them for who they are, especially not those who work in the government and its related fields. it was bad enough they were women dominating their respective industries; the criticism would grow even more severe if they were discovered to be avid dissenters of the patriarchal and scriptural constituents that compose most of the conclave's gentry. they were being forced into a cage that only grew smaller by the day. it was no secret that the bureaucratic side of the conclave holds a much darker and unpleasant feel to it than its other sectors. there are unspoken protocols, formalities and expectations plastered into everything around them. their world was not like the airy, comical, colorful and scintillating one that the celebutantes of new hollywood live in. there's was critical and conversative, tartarean like the dark side of the moon, the unlucky side of a coin, the darkest and deepest trench in the ocean. respect is a fleeting concept amongst their peers, and approbation is never guaranteed. what comes easily for a man does not come easily for a woman, not in the world of business and law. people are quick to ridicule and condemn, quick to find fault with everything and anything you do or uphold. they do not take kindly to individuals who taint their world of dyed-in-the-wool and establishmentarian values. it always appeared that the actual desire that exists between women, as complete venereal and romantic beings independent of the outside world, was never seen as legitimate and respectable. they like uniformity, normality that fits their views of gender, sexuality and the human race. it's best to squeeze yourself into a predictable pulp that is easy for them to dissect but only the lord knows how many enemies sera and emilie have made over the years just by working their way up the enterprise ladder. a lot of men do not like to be challenged by women; they view them as an adversary, an opposition of both their masculinity and their social and economic standing. what is it about femininity that threatens so many men? they treat womanhood like it's some sort of mortifying taboo, like it is a problematic and discomfiting concept of humanity that must only be whispered among other women. sera was reminded of her temporality on a daily basis. she was a bargaining chip in the eyes of others, manipulated by people like her grandmother to further her own unscrupulous gains. sera had to compose herself in a way that was agreeable to the average man if she wanted any ounce of respect or adherence in her line of work. she cannot be herself or love who she wants without unknowingly becoming the butt of some sort of crude joke amongst her colleagues. she'd be a stooge in a sea of gossip and exhibitions that she knew nothing about. she has witnessed how some of new hollywood's biggest yet controversial panjandrums are reduced to little more than rib-tickler japes in the eyes of the government. they were often judged for the most pointless of things but it was all because they are different, bizarre, unchained by public opinion and traditional values. they don't care to adhere to a certain model of life and behavior, something that most of the conclave's upper class cannot relate to. most of them are shackled by the very society they have created, sera most of all. she knew that she could never dabble in public romances or leisure communal activities without revealing who she truly was. as much as she hated to admit it, she would lose everything if she lost the respect of her fellow colleagues and that was something she could not risk. sera has quite literally sacrificed everything to get to where she is at today; she worked herself down to the bone at the start of her career to snag a decent foothold in the industry. as director she was their source of impassive authority, a sometimes wry but fierce pundit that could be counted upon to display bouts of serious patriotism and unwavering jurisdiction. and if she somehow punctured that bubble of mystique about her, if she somehow were to be exposed for who she truly was? people would look at her differently. they would see her as different, and to be different in this sector of conclave society is to be stigmatized and ridiculed. it's dangerous not to fit into high society's paragon of a proper and well-respected individual. many people follow a strict code that rarely wavers in the face of change: traditional family structures and values, strict gender roles, limited carnal relations, and encompassing religious traditions. it was everything that sera was not.
indentdare i say you didn't seem very enthralled with me? "i got a better question. how about you drop it and don't push it again?" sera scowled at emilie's question, her own tone coming off agitated compared to emilie's more cautious one. it baffled her how emilie could act so ignorant to what should be glaringly obvious. she knew it was not because she lacked smarts; the other woman has achieved so much because of her canniness but she was not perspicacious in the slightest. why would sera jump at the opportunity to attend a symposium with emilie after all that has happened between them? sera could not say she ever expected total and utter devotion from emilie but their brief falling out after sera's engagement came to light was telling enough. she never expected the other woman to be mirthful over the news - hell, she would have understood her upset and given her the necessary space to air it out - but perhaps she did expect a hint of perception from her, an inkling of cognizance over the deeper implications surrounding sera's engagement to bennie morgan. it was no secret that a number of marriages in high society are often arranged between families for the benefits of social climbing, status seeking and annexations of power. sera was just another slab of meat hooked onto a conveyor belt that ambled its way through a factory long built by people like her grandmother. the factory packaged and distributed the meat for its sea of hungry customers, and the man with the fattest pockets gets to take home the juiciest slab of meat he can get his grimy hands on. the meat had to benefit the man somehow. he does not want something fatty but something nice and lean, like beef sirloin or ground beef. dried or canned? forget about it. he could afford to be picky. and the factory would never stop production, not as long as there are women to be sold for societal gain and men eager to browse the goods. sera would have thought that emilie's past and ongoing experiences with religion - to say nothing of her cuckoo sister who howled constantly about christian values - and male predominance in the workplace would have made her a bit more amenable towards sera's situation, but that was clearly not the case. emilie must know what it is like to have your gender weaponized against you, to be viewed as something less than what you truly are because the men around you do not think you should be occupying their spaces. how many stepping stones does it take for the similarities to grow between power inequity in the workplace and unequal gender status in the social sphere? they were all stones made up on the same pyramid, all of them pillars utilized to uphold a certain doctrine and take away their sense of independence and strength. it made her think of a passage from the new testament that her mother once told her, when she urged sera to find a husband a few years back. scripture, ephesians 5:22-30: wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the lord. for the husband is the head of the wife even as christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its savior. now as the church submits to christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. the next passage was not much better. husbands, love your wives, as christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. in the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. he who loves his wife loves himself. for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as christ does the church, because we are members of his body. sera remembering reading an article once written by a religious couple in charge of a subsidiary ministry, and how the wife published a paper on a wife's role and responsibility in marriage. for the most part, she found it horrifying. one of the paragraphs focused on the woman's experiences with her own husband, and how she often put her husband's carnal needs over the priorities of housework, projects, activities and even her own children. she claimed that she must keep herself from being selfish and self-centered somehow, and maintaining that focus helps defeat isolation in their marriage. she also wrote how the scriptures made it clear that a woman should submit voluntarily to her husband's sensitive and loving leadership, and that in order for a man to become god's servant-leader he needed the gracious respect and submission of his wife. she even went as far as to spiel that when you entrust your life to the father, it’s much easier to be the wife of an imperfect man, particularly when you may have disagreements. but will god stay the hand of the man that seeks to harm you? will god intervene and send your home crashing down around you when your husband goes too far? how far must a man go to be acknowledged as an evildoer instead of 'imperfect'? why are women always considered a gift to be given from one person to the next, from god to the next man, a byproduct and second flesh of the husband instead of just, well, themselves? her mother liked to criticize her 'liberal' views on the bible but if people consider such texts to be their guide on humanity and life, it was worth putting a few cents of modern tones in there. you cannot live your life based solely on a book written nearly four thousand years ago, especially not after a nuclear apocalypse destroyed the world.
indent"oh?" the mention of the bar was unexpected. the last thing she anticipated tonight was emilie being interested in sharing a drink with her. it was almost comical enough to bring forth a witty remark in response but sera decided against it. still, the woman's sudden enthusiasm was baffling. was she not upset with her? if emilie's curt, periodic responses and intervals of total silence over the past few months suggested anything, sera had fully expected to receive something of a cold shoulder from her during the inauguration dinner. the older woman could not take out her frustrations on anyone else involved in the situation so of course, sera was the one to receive the short end of the stick. sera was sympathetic towards her in the beginning - she was aware of how jarring it be must for her to receive such ill-timed news - but now her commiseration has run dry. she was not going to sit there and waste whatever remained of her empathy meter on emilie because to be quite frank, sera was the only one in this situation who should be moping around. emilie hasn't taken much heed of sera the past few months anyway so why should she even care anymore? was her silence not telling enough? nothing was keeping emilie tied to sera's side like an obedient dog, and sera would prefer her to keep her distance anyway if all she had in store for her was a tidal wave of unwanted criticism and judgment. the last person who should try and climb on the moral high box was emilie hofmann. prior to the inauguration dinner, she had found it hard to believe that emilie cared about her in any capacity after what has happened between them. hell, she liked to think that she did but after emilie put her on the backburner during a time where sera needed her the most, she doubted it. now, the older woman pawing for her attention and inviting her to an academic symposium was beginning to plant a seed of doubt in sera's earlier convictions but certainly not enough to let her guard down. she did not trust emilie for the other woman was a walking contradiction when it came to whatever remained of their relationship. emilie was not someone that sera could confide it, at-least not anymore. she knew that the other woman was probably harboring some decree of opprobrium towards her, a fact that appeared quite readily to sera given the silent tension between them the past while. the two women felt that they were wronged by one another, and no conversation involving that was going to go smoothly. perhaps if sera had told emilie more concerning the nature of her engagement and the strings that were being pulled behind the scenes - to say nothing of her family's history with arranged marriages - a lot of this unnecessary antagonism would not have formed in this first place but would it really? there was a good chance that emilie might have left her out in the cold anyway because at the end of the day, sera was still engaged to a man and that was the root of the conflict. there was nothing sera could do about it or lessen the blow and its consequences because it was still going to attack whatever massively inflated ego emilie carries around. sera was more than just a woman to be traded around and claimed by different people; she was not bennie's or emilie's or anyone else's, in that matter. sera was well aware of the fact that whatever emilie might say about the matter was only going to anger her and nothing sera said was going to mend it, either. it just felt wrong to stand here and act like nothing has happened, like there was not a huge elephant lumbering around the room. and to be completely honest, something about sitting at the bar with emilie was a discomforting notion considering how tense things were between them. sera did not care much to entertain whatever the hell was going on between them right now; it was probably nothing but a huge disservice to them by hiding behind thin-layered courtesies and hidden resentment. sera knew that emilie was none too keen on confronting it herself, and sera had no intentions of trying to weasel a forced reconciliation out of emilie like a mother would do a petulant child. she wanted it to be more than that. a part of her wanted emilie to be willing to have an open discussion with her because she wanted to, not just because sera forced her into doing it. she wanted to be worth more than just a possible bruise to her ego but that was probably asking for too much. sera was in no mood for a fight, and she had a feeling that if she did decline emilie's bar invitation, the other woman was going to brood about it for the next three hours at their table. the last thing this situation needed was another bucket of antipathy. sera forced a light smile - one that, thank god, she has been forcing the past twenty five years and appeared agreeable and convincing enough. "well, if you're paying... i'll be sure to order the most expensive drink."
indentthe sky parlor boasted a quaint mahogany saloon pub bar on the far side of the room, ripe with expensive liquors, spirits and gin. it was a moderately sized wrap-around bar with velvet cushioned bar stools, marble counters and crisscrossed glass shelves that climbed and clambered above an electric fireplace screen. a small mason jar chandelier hung above the bar, illuminating the stocks of alcohol on display. most of the bottles were not only old but expensive, as well. remy martin black pearl louis xiii, a cognac blend of 1,200 eaux-de-vie that has been aged from 40 to 115 years. bowmore 1957, an iconic drink of the elites that has spent its first forty-three years in a sherry cask and the last eleven in a bourbon cask. mendis coconut brandy, matured in halmilla casks and the first ever clear brandy made from coconuts. diva vodka, a wheat-based vodka filtered three times through nordic birch charcoal and sitting in a bottle that contains forty eight crystals of cubic zircona, smoky topaz, amethyst, citrine, pink tourmaline and peridot. pasión azteca, a platinum liquor tequila bottled covered in 6,400 diamonds. there was even a bottle of d'amalfi limoncello supreme on display. prior to the great war, there were only two known bottles of d’amalfi limoncello supreme left, and it appeared that one survived the carnage of the past few centuries. it was donated to the banquet hall by leslie morgan. the neck of the bottle contains three single, thirteen carat diamonds and a giant 18.5 carat diamond. back then, it was commissioned by an anonymous italian client who purchased one and put the other for sale at a whopping 44 million dollars. as sera and emilie issued their temporary farewells and broke off from their respective social parties, sera eyed the bottles of liquor critically as they approached the bar. they were exorbitant for a reason. the elites of high society would gladly play a couple thousand dollars for a bottle of fine alcohol. yeah, why not? sera approached the bar curiously, her hands moving to glide against the counter's surface so she could prop herself up on one of the bar stools. the bar was not nearly as crowded as the rest of the sky parlor but there was still a considerable amount of activity commencing in its vicinity. a group of four were chattering and laughing further down the bar while a blonde and her beau were sitting three stools down. two men in stocky suits stood on either side of the second double doors leading into the bar's mini kitchen. judging by their padded suits and sunglasses, they were secret service agents. she looked to emilie before nodding at the two men. "don't they look like they're having a grand time? be prepared to jump over this bar counter if they start swinging those batons of theirs at people for fun."
indent"at-least somebody here is having a grand time," a somber voice cut in. sera jumped in her seat at the sudden intrusion. her attention was momentarily caught on the two unamused agents that she did not hear the d.o.u.g unit approaching them from behind the bar. the droid's silver surface shined like mercury. like all d.o.u.g units, it had an extremely compact design: the spherical main body housed not only its nuclear power unit, but also the single centrally-mounted jet thruster with a ground-effect skirt allowing it to hover around. it had three eyes that jutted out from its head like that of a curious snail's, as well as three arms to help it grab, pinch and snatch. a magnetic name tag had been plastered to the surface of its circular body: mister buckingham, certified mixologist and barkeep. it peered at the two women impatiently, its large eyes surveying them in an almost fussy manner. "well? are you just going to stand there and dawdle or are you going to order a drink? and before you ask, no, we do not sell craft beers! what do you all think this is, a moonshine shack operating out of the woods? do not insult me with such questions! and we don't do tabs here either so a friendly and respectful warning must be issued, per my superior's orders. he said, and i quote, 'don't even think about letting those freaks out there dodge their bills unless you want to end up being crushed and recycled into a soda can.' huzzah!"
indentthe robot's restlessness, sheer bluntness and air of domineering authority threw her off guard. sera has met plenty of d.o.u.g units before, and all of them are usually upbeat, friendly, peppy and ridiculously overoptimistic. sure, they each have varying personalities but those are their key traits. she has never met a d.o.u.g unit with an attitude before. it was so ridiculously offputting that she could not help but laugh out loud. "i'm sorry buc- erm, mister buckingham. i thought i saw another bartender back here earlier?" she tried to keep her tone as levelled as possible. sera did not have to treat the robot unit courtesly but she figured that something must be wrong with its calibration for it to be acting the way it was. that, or somebody just thought it was hilarious to have an imperious and officious robot serve high society their alcoholic beverages tonight. the droid narrowed its eyes at her. "my colleague was pulled out of rotation for the crime of overpouring his drinks. see, one ounce of overpour per glass loses you 20% revenue on a typical 25.4 oz bottle. liquor ingredients account for such a small part of cocktail beverages that one ounce of overpour on a cocktail doubles the ingredient cost of that liquor in your cocktails. and beer? a couple of ounces of excess per glass amounts to thousands of dollars every year. if a bartender overpours by just 1/8th of an ounce per drink, that’s over 2 ounces of liquor wasted per hour. at $2 per ounce, that’s over $4 in liquor wasted per hour. in a 10-hour shift, that’s over $40 in liquor wasted. in a 5-day work week, that’s over $200 in liquor wasted. in a month, that’s over $800 in liquor wasted. in a year, that’s over $9,600 in liquor wasted. a travesty in this business!"
indent"hmm, makes sense. excess pouring can affect your profits directly, but the loss is magnified by external market circumstances that affect the price of common goods like beverages. and we can't have that, especially not when the people who own these venues make millions already."
indent"precisely," mister buckingham agreed. there was something that sounded like mild respect and satisfaction in his robotic voice, despite him completely missing her bitter sarcasm at the end. "anyway, your drink orders...?"
indent"ah, right. a negroni, please but bourbon whiskey instead of gin. and on the rocks, if you will with a maraschino cherry instead of a lemon peel. emilie?" she looked to the other woman for her order. she had a feeling that she might order a rye manhattan but as she was not one hundred percent positive, she thought it best not to cut in and presume. after they were finishing giving the robot their orders, he gave a slight nod with his mechanical eyeballs. "excellent. not exactly the most polished drinks out there - my hardware commands me to relentlessly pester you to order our most expensive and finest gins so we can milk every cent out of your wallets but i digress! they shall be delivered shortly. i also must insist on receiving no tips tonight, as i am a mechanical automaton and have no need for the paper currency that my human coworkers depend on to buy sustenance to satisfy the chemical needs of their alimentary canals. huzzah!"
indentsera watched the robot hover off. she laughed again, this time rather dryly. "jesus christ. i never thought i'd see the day where a d.o.u.g unit has an attitude problem. those ones are usually nice. it's probably best not to provoke it, anyway. it sounds like it has one screw too loose and i don't want to be attacked by a robot with a corkscrew." she moved a folded napkin absentmindedly across the counter's surface. she had no idea how emilie felt towards robots and androids in general but she assumed it was nothing too positive. religion does not entirely favor science, particularly the branches of science that delve into robotics, artificial intelligence, bioengineering and lab-grown manufacturing. sera did not mind them. despite what her own mother liked to preach, they lived in a world rife with change, conflict and growth. technology was only going to grow more advanced as the years went on. it's human nature to experiment, adapt and develop. but now that mister buckingham was gone, the weight of emilie's presence was beginning to sink in again. she had no idea what to say. the very thing she wanted to speak about was not something that emilie would be willing to entertain, and either way there were still too many people surrounding them for comfort. sera could not help but feel a jab of irritation. was there never going to be a 'right time' to talk? was this how their relationship was going to be for now on? sera told herself that she was fine with losing emilie, that she did not truly need the other woman in her life in order to be happy but was that the truth? not really, no. she did not want to become just another stranger to the older woman but she was not sure how to salvage what was left of their relationship when they could not - hell, would not talk to one another. it was strange how you can be standing in the middle of a crowded room and still find yourself feeling horribly and utterly alone. sera has been feeling that way for the past few months now. she felt like a ghost, something ominously transparent that was wandering aimlessly through a physical plane where nobody could see her. she felt constricted by the coils of whatever hidden opinions and judgments others have formed about her inside their heads since her engagement. sera has worked hard for everything she has - she never had the support of long-standing generational wealth, contacts and influence after her father died. she lost that when her paternal grandfather clashed with her mother and grandmother, leaving her penniless and practically depending on scholarships, financial aid and student loans throughout her long academic journey. her grandfather had wanted more for her and her siblings when his son died. he wanted to set up investment accounts for them where he could set money aside for qualified educational expenses like college tuitions, fees, books, and room and board. he wanted to make them roth individual retirement accounts that offers tax-free growth and tax-free withdrawals so they would have money available to them when they were ready to retire at an old and comely age. he wanted to secure their financial well-being but he had been afraid that their mother and grandmother would sabotage their own funds and ruin them financially before they even left boarding school. it was no secret that sera's grandmother was a greedy woman, and she would have gladly 'borrowed' money from her own grandchildren's trusts to fund her lavish shopping sprees and ridiculously expensive lifestyle. the keanes did absolutely nothing to help sera and her siblings growing up for the loans their mother took out to try and help pay for their college educations ended up barely topping off the barrel when you consider how much money they recycled back into trying to keep their mother from ending up on the street. sera has not forgotten the wrongs inflicted upon her and neither has her sister for that matter. her older sister zahara has undoubtedly received the shortest end of the stick in this entire scenario. she was married off to the solis family as soon as she left boarding school at eighteen years old and rather than pursue an interest in medical science, she was not-so-subtly intimidated by her in-laws to pursue a career in a field that would help advance the future endeavors of solis proximedia. nobody can deny the fact she is an excellent and innovative engineer but it is not what she truly wanted for herself, not really. she never wanted children but that did not work out in her favor either. it was a series of nasty truths and unwanted decisions that later led to where they are today, where her sister has grown so warped from reality that her anger has no bounds with no end in sight. as far as sera was aware, her sister and the solis family were still engrossed in a nasty hostile takeover with their grandfather's company, artem tech industries. he was no longer in charge of its operations. that task had been left to their lovely aunt bracha petschauer who, much like their grandmother, forced sera and her siblings out into the cold after their father's death. she helped solidify their grandfather's unease when it came to setting up trusts for his son's children but it was not because she genuinely worried that the keanes would drain him of his wealth. no, she wanted his company for herself and her own children for she knew that he was still partial on the idea of taking his son's children beneath his wing and prepping them for future business endeavors and leadership.
indentzahara never forgave their aunt. how does sera know that? well, she was quite well-inversed with the feelings of bitter rage and she knew that that was what was driving her sister to do what she was doing. at first, she and the solis family sought to eliminate artem tech as a competitor by buying them out but when it became clear that bracha was not going down without a fight, that was what began the long legal battles in their war of hostile takeover. as one might expect, it was a conflict rifled with traded lawsuits and accusations. as far as sera knew, solis proximedia was attacking the situation at all angles. they were going in for the company's shareholders with tender offers by attempting to pay premium for the shares with added contingent value rights, all while tackling the company's management and executive teams to either replace them or butter them up with fattening benefits so the acquisition can be approved - and if that failed, they were looking at filing as part of a proxy battle to fire artem's entire board of directors to gain control of the company. it was a trifling situation - most of artem's executive board were loyal to the petschauer name, and felt the company was in better hands by staying a family-controlled business. others, however, felt that the company has hit a plateau with bracha petschauer and it was not going to get better for them economically. if sera could take any guess at the future outcome of the takeover, the board of directors were going to falter and eventually agree to the solis family's terms. solis proximedia yearned for artem's brand, operations, technology, and industry foothold but zahara sought something beyond that. she wanted to pull the rug out from bracha's feet. she wanted to leave the older woman with nothing but the clothes on her back. she wanted her company, her estates, her investments, her financial accounts: she wanted to leave her with absolutely nothing, leave her so penniless and penurious that not even her children and grandchildren could recover from the loss. obviously, their aunt was fighting tooth and nail against the recent legal battles by throwing everything she's got at the situation: differential voting rights, employee stock ownership programs and even the infamous crown jewel defense. in the end, though, bracha simply does not have the proper support, money or legal teams to stave off the solis family. sera would not be surprised if artem eventually became a solis-owned brand by the end of the year. she's seen pictures and videos online and in gossip magazines of her aunt having full-on mental breakdowns in front of the courthouses or inside her car, her erratic and sometimes borderline violent behavior against the nosy press was certainly doing her no favors in terms of publicity. meanwhile, zahara and her husband always appear levelled, posh and coolheaded whenever they were captured by camera or video footage. her sister has built herself an ambitious and domineering legal team full of controversial but zealous lawyers, big bank moguls, and big-name private sector and business economists to help her take on artem tech. it was strange to sera how zahara has probably been in the same room with emilie and her vast array of colleagues before, how she has probably made connections and friendships with people that dominated the banking and financial institutions. truthfully, there was really nothing on this planet strong enough to subdue her sister. her temper easily outmatches sera's, and while both women never fail to forget slights committed against them, zahara was the type of person to lie down and wait for revenge. it did not matter if it took weeks, months, years for the person she hated to become vulnerable because as soon as she sensed weakness, she lunged in for the kill and did not let go until the blood dried out. she was not satisfied by petty qualms or empty words - she liked to know that by the end of the bloodshed, the person who went against her would not have the strength to crawl back for a second fight. it was impossible to negotiate with her and while sera was willing to keep the people who have hurt her at a considerable distance while she worked out her feelings - much like how she continued to entertain emilie despite her hurts - zahara was more likely to plan their downfall immediately. it only took one blow to make zahara your enemy; their aunt has probably figured that out by now. hell, the press was going crazy when it came to their feud. the media was flooded with news of their court hearings, lawsuits, legal bids, public appearances and company debacles. sera herself was struggling to keep her head down in the wake of the takeover because nosy reporters and journalists were constantly lingering outside her apartment and office buildings in an attempt to get some footage of her talking about her sister and whether or not the takeover could possibly attract the attention of the bureau and its sister agencies. as far as sera was concerned, she wanted nothing to do with it and the bureau would only begin sniffing around if federal laws were broken. the techniques used in the hostile takeover may be controversial and downright problematic at best but nothing inherently unlawful. so far. their grandmother evie thought it was a pointless endeavor and somewhat disrespectful to the memory of their late father but she did not dare say that to zahara's face. zahara was no longer at an age or place in life where she could be easily manipulated and bargained for. she was no longer a pawn underneath their grandmother's control, and evie knew it. she knew that zahara would come after her next and destroy what little she does have if she attempted to overstep her boundaries and trigger wounded memories that best lay hidden. it would be most unwise for evie to mention their father to zahara and luckily enough the old woman still has a few brain cells left to realize that. she was frightened of zahara and rightfully so. sera's sister was easily angered, impatient, harsh, cunning and dangerously intelligent. she cared for little beyond what stands inside her own social sphere. something has happened to her, something beyond what sera knew on the surface level, that contributed to her almost predacious and cutthroat mannerisms, her need to strike back at those who hurt her as a child and left her behind. she was like a predator that sought to eliminate anything that could weaken its hold on its surrounding environment and spoils. her relationship with sera and their brother absalom was complicated at best, and absolutely dead when it came to their mother. zahara once told her that the only time she wanted sera to call her with news regarding their mother was when the funeral home needed them to pick a coffin for her resting corpse.
indentsera glanced at emilie. "so... the annual report of the council of economic advisors. how's that coming along, if i'm allowed to know any of the details? i know it's due to be released in february. does that come out before the state of the union address? and i reckon your colleagues are helpful enough when it comes to the process? they're, uhm... dr. james glaeser and dr. roy anderson are interesting characters." she figured that prodding emilie to speak about economics and her life passions was probably the safest route to take than sit here in awkward silence. it would most likely help keep emilie preoccupied and stave off any sort of unwanted comments that could trigger a bout of agitation from either of them. sera was just barely conscious of her own simmering temper, one that was likely to boil over at the slightest aggression. besides, she was curious on whether or not emilie got along with glaeser and anderson. she doubted that emilie would tell her anything that would incriminate her self-image but it was worth a try. much like how sera acted sometimes, emilie could be about as domineering as the next person and some people don't take kindly to that. people in this sector of society are always trying to prove some unfounded point that nobody but themselves truly care about.

[vaell]

xxxＥＤＷＩＮ ＡＬＢＲＥＣＨＴ.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa rebel entertainer performing under the stage name floyd.
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indentthough constance's answer didn't particularly surprise him, edwin had to resist the urge to frown at her bleak report all the same. ever since the conclave first issued a lockdown on the city of arcadia, unrestricted travel and the business of trade in the area have been significantly impacted, effectively curtailing the livelihood of local wastelanders who rely on the markets as a feasible source of income for subsistence and derailing traveling merchants from venturing their predictable routes. like most bases or sites manned by the network of rebels in the wasteland, the village cross outpost had been modestly prepared to take a blow from any sort of unforeseen disruption in the activity of neighboring towns or cities. established stockpiles of non-perishable goods or other necessities can be quick to decline during periods of sustained uncertainty, though. as the sole commanding officer of the outpost, there is no doubt maven hearst runs a tight ship but the extended duration of the conclave's presence in arcadia was beginning to exhaust the outpost's capacity to support their numbers nonetheless. it only seemed inevitable that their canned goods would start to diminish alongside their stock of medical supplies. after all, village cross was not so much a fully functioning base teeming with rebel traffic as it was a gathering point for groups or a pitstop for temporary reprieve during a journey through the wasteland. in that respect, it wouldn't be reasonable to expect any prolonged stay at the outpost to be plain sailing. they were going to have to constantly adjust with the unfolding situation at arcadia and anticipate what the conclave's next move might be. still, hopefully dishes of mud pies and grass soufflé weren't going to make a spontaneous appearance in the dining hall this week. "mmm. delicious." he agreed jokingly, though it was obvious the younger girl sitting next to him did not look particularly thrilled over the idea of resorting to the wasteland survival guide for cuisine. "clover and chickweed stew? that's karelsa's favorite." he gave her a playful nudge in the side with his elbow. karelsa's nose crinkled in disagreement. "bleh, no way!" her disagreement was enough to elicit a chuckle from edwin. regardless of how uncertain their current state of affairs may be right now, relatively lighthearted moments like these never fail to remind him just how fortunate he is to belong to such an inspired cause like the rebellion. edwin and constance's caravan crew comprised of people from all walks of life, coming together united in the pursuit of freedom and a collective devotion to preserving the performing arts across the wasteland. edwin may have been born to two revolutionaries himself but he knew what the rebellion meant to those outside of its ranks. it was a beacon of hope as much as it were a promise to the people. many wastelanders have no choice but to prematurely shed the skin of their youth in an effort to cope with the unforgiving world they were born into, and unlike their capital-raised counterparts they would never be afforded the luxury of a comfortable lifestyle most people in conclave society likely deem mundane or take for granted altogether. the wasteland population has always had to fight tooth and nail for a fair place in society, whether that be among their own people or the likes of conclave descendants. those born outside the ring of conclave elitists knew the cards have been stacked against them since birth. the government has failed wastelanders at every turn imaginable. the same people who built their cozy lives on the backs of wastelanders and their plights have condemned so-called tainted-bloods as second-rate citizens for decades now, successfully perpetuating prejudice within their ranks through vile displays intended to dehumanize the inhabitants of the wasteland. those born into conclave society have access to a variety of services, amenities, educational institutions, a functioning economy, the promise of security, shelter, and the immediate protection of the wasteland's strongest armed forces. the conclave's citizens can ascend professionally, socially, and cognitively because they were given the proper tools they needed to succeed, a sentiment not many wastelanders can relate to. sure, wastelanders may have the opportunity to enlist in the military to serve as soldiers or take up practical trades working as technicians or low-ranking doctors, but you won't see anyone born outside of the conclave heading the face of a multimillion company or assuming office as a government official. the conclave has always been revered for their military, but the capital of the nation is also a metropolis notorious for booming corporations and institutions crawling with filthy rich moguls and magnates, greedy businessmen, and self-interested philanthropists, too. certain companies funded by the federal government such as titan industries ─ a corporation well known for its involvement in the mining industry throughout the wasteland ─ have reportedly committed a number of atrocities affecting wastelander locals during their business exploits. edwin could recall hearing about instances of settlements succumbing to landslides due to titan industries' negligence for the nearby wastelander neighborhoods, sending downslope masses of debris, soil, rocks and earth to quickly destroy property and take lives not long after they set off several detonations in a nearby quarry. the rebellion last managed to track the organization's activity at the border of the dixon wasteland and the badlands, a particular area of the wasteland where their excavation rates appear to be primarily concentrated these last few years. a lot of conclave-operated organizations are not nearly as openly detrimental to the progression of their country and harmful to the wasteland population as titan industries is, though.
indentin particular, the conclave's film and television industry is notoriously sinister for planting subtle hints of military propaganda in the movies they premiere. edwin and constance may have shared a good laugh or two over the different copies of movies they've managed to recover at raided conclave warehouses but the same could not be said for the citizens of the capital. the conclave's followers go completely unaware of the federal government infiltrating media productions with blood-purity agendas, nationalism, and military-related indoctrination. after all, the conclave's ideologies are all they have ever known. for all edwin knew it was possible the very concept of a military-entertainment complex was just as prevalent in society before the nukes dropped as it was now. nonetheless, the conclave military and major new hollywood-based entertainment media groups appear to cooperate for their mutual benefit, be it in cinema or other multimedia productions. from observation alone it has become apparent the film industry must be working hand in hand with the conclave's department of defense to some extent. over the last decade, rebels have proposed that the department of defense likely has a final say in every conclave-made movie ─ be it whether the filmmakers use resources not available on the open market in their productions or not ─ and it's even more likely that every movie must submit its script to the department of defense for vetting. with what research the rebellion has conducted over the years, they could safely assume the federal government controls almost every aspect of media their citizens might consume and as a result, modern films have become reduced to propaganda fueled narratives riddled with harmful stereotypes. of course, new hollywood might act as an palpable arm for military propaganda in the conclave, but truth be told it was just as likely the government has quietly infiltrated almost every sector of conclave society. in fact, the very resurrection of wall street in the capital city has pointed to the intimate relationship the banking system may share with the government. banks are known for perpetuating class differences associated with blood-purity, expanding the gaps between the rich and poor because clients with more money are far more attractive. from interest rates to service fees, preferential treatment of the wealthy and affluent members of conclave society should come as no surprise. after all, they have better prospects for receiving lucrative interest rates on investment opportunities, loans, and returns. while unassuming wastelanders are roped into the allure of integrating into the conclave's economy, conclave elitists considered to be high net worth clients can access private banking services, providing them with a concierge-like attention to their finances. unfortunately, some of the largest investors can drive crises that would directly affect wastelanders who might assimilate into the conclave's financial programs, especially if they were to cash out in light of market value speculations and cause a devastating number of home foreclosures. in the event something like that were to happen, the average wastelander might be forced to relinquish a home they could no longer afford, and edwin was quite certain every large bank in the nation would underwrite these activities because in the end, their bottom line is not about the people but rather the money. the conclave's financial industry may be responsible for promoting economic mobility and pushing their economy to rival that of pre-war development, but the rebellion did not dare underestimate its baleful nature. banks turn a blind eye toward corruption all the time and even when their greed lands them in trouble they have been known to expect the federal government to bail them out. the rebellion has kept running tabs on former high-level bankers later noted to hold high-level positions of finance in the government, the same people the rebellion speculate tell congress there are no other options in certain circumstances besides bailing the banks out. either way, the rebellion has continued to keep an eye on the conclave's finance industry and the organizations that monitor it, given that both entities appear almost willfully blind to wrongdoing. the conclave's pharmaceutical industry however has proven itself to be the most detrimental to the health of both wastelander and conclave citizens. commonly known throughout the wasteland as chems, bliss is a substance developed in conclave laboratories that has become notorious for its illicit trade and persevering demand in the black markets. it's widespread distribution and use in the wasteland has become something of a nightmare for the conclave to sufficiently crack down on. it's no secret there's a high profitability in selling bliss on the markets and the conclave has been actively trying to decrease the supply of and demand for the highly potent substance for years now by implementing severe repercussions for those found illegally carrying it. wastelanders caught possessing bliss will face immediate arrest and confiscation of the substance alongside a variety of other consequences. aside from receiving heavy fines and a criminal record, most wastelanders handling bliss are subject to facing prison time such as in cidma mine in an effort to deter the greater wasteland population from acquiring and selling the substance. in fact, bliss law violations are a substantial portion of incarcerations in the nation's facilities and have started to represent one of the most common arrest categories. regardless of the conclave's determination to keep the substance from the hands of the common wastelander though, the widespread prevalence of bliss has become a rather uncontrollable situation to successfully rein in. for the government the economic cost alone is immense, estimated to be nearly billions in dollars. the damage caused by the usage of bliss is reflected in an overburdened justice system, a strained healthcare system, lost productivity, and environmental destruction. after all, premature mortality, illness, injury leading to incapacitation, and imprisonment all directly reduce the nation's productivity rates. a lot of public financial resources are expended in the health care and criminal justice sectors as a result of bliss trafficking and use, resources that the conclave would likely want to use for other policy initiatives. medical professionals in the conclave typically use the substance for its ability to treat moderate and severe pain but it's chemical properties have been known to devastate the lives of those who use it, most frequently the likes of soldiers. the bottom line is large corporations will always favor profit over public health, and the crippling effects of bliss in the conclave and wasteland populations remained proof of such a notion.
indentwhen constance cleared her throat, edwin's attention was quick to return to the other entertainer. in all seriousness, we should go and see maven. he mumbled something in agreement. she was right. besides, he and karelsa have spent enough of the evening practicing the violin concerto and ruminating over the known history of tchaikovsky's life. plus, it seemed the younger girl was certainly happy to be able to accompany them. quick to act on constance's invitation, karelsa was already eagerly pulling out her violin case from beneath the bench they sat on, rising from where she was sitting to dutifully sling the instrument over her shoulder. fortunately for the three of them there wouldn't be much hassle considering they had already stowed away their instruments and sheet music just moments earlier. when he noticed constance begin to shift from their position on his lap, he instinctively reached a hand out to gingerly stabilize their lower back as they did so. "hey, don't be so quick to assume we're even us. what if we are the edwin and karelsa android variants, hm? i mean how else can you explain our unnatural levels of talent?" he teased, watching as she maneuvered herself back on to her feet. karelsa only rolled her eyes when she heard his joke, stepping beside constance to carefully snake her arm in the crook of their own elbow. from where she stood huddled by constance, the younger girl gave edwin a pointed look suggesting he was being far too sluggish for her liking right now. he snorted when he noticed her impatience, leaning over to search for the handle of his violin case so he could draw the instrument out from under his feet. edwin threw a glance up at the two of them, then at constance in particular. "kidding. seriously though, i'm sorry to hear about the lack of medical supplies right now. i guess there's not much we can do about that or our diminishing supply of food, not until the military presence thins out a bit." he sighed, rising from the bench with his violin case in hand. having spent enough time hunkering down at village cross these last few days it's been hard coming to terms with their most recently botched operation. there's only so many times a person can wonder how everything might have panned out had their colleagues' mission at fort themus went according to plan. he supposed some form of frustration lay heavy at the root of his disappointment. for all they know that tape could be lying somewhere in a muddy ditch right now, or it could be stowed away in the pocket of a passerby who looted their colleagues' dead bodies before the conclave could even manage to secure the perimeter. whatever the fate of the tape may be, the conclave has been quick to address the situation nevertheless. they hastily named two suspects involved in the fort break-in, that being valentina kalajian and julian moreno, neither of which were actually associated with their cause as far as he knew. it made for a curious situation to say the least, and edwin himself wasn't sure what to make of the conclave's manhunt. it was possible the rebellion's higher chain of command acted in a discrete fashion by quietly planting those two near fort themus should something go wrong, but even edwin was skeptical of that possibility. either way, more questions hung in the balance than did answers and he suspected they may never resolve some of their curiosities. "anyway, let's go put these away shall we?" the man smiled at the pair before beginning to set off in the direction of the cots, violin case in hand. karelsa stuck by constance's side as edwin took the lead toward the lower right half of the basement. after slipping past the folding screens that divided the training room from the rest of the basement, the trio started making their way over to the resting area of the basement. they passed beneath hanging light bulbs precariously clinging from their exposed sockets in the ceiling overhead, flickering in and out to cast the stone brick walls around them in sporadic bouts of illumination. in a valiant effort to keep the basement lit a few nearby lanterns sufficed to compensate for the blinking bulbs. considering the basement did not have an enormous capacity their trip from the training room was a relatively short one. the sound of their light footsteps against the paved floor quieted once they reached the basement's designated resting area. just behind a reinforced column a modest array of cots and nightstands occupied this corner of the basement, the same space they have grown accustomed to since first arriving at village cross. karelsa must have finally broke off from constance too, for he could spot the girl emerging from behind him in a beeline toward her own cot. edwin threw a glance over his shoulder at the other entertainer before following in suit with the younger girl. when he approached his own cot, the man gently lowered his violin case at the foot of the portable bed, using the side of his shoe to press his case flush against its frame. he was careful not to make too much noise considering some people were trying to get some shuteye right now. by the time he turned around, karelsa was already catching him by the arm and hurriedly guiding him over to where constance was waiting for them.
indentthe center of the basement unified all fours corners of the room, dominated by a large table brimming with files, documents, folders, maps, and repurposed conclave technologies acting as an anchor to the surrounding area. as expected, maven hearst stood at the helm of the outpost's working control and communications center. her back was turned toward the three of them, seemingly focused on examining the mobile corkboard stationed next to the table. the older woman was framed by several different paper clippings and photographs pinned to the rectangular board and interconnected with different threads of string to mark certain connections. red lines hung taut between different items or people of interest, many of which seemed to originate from particular areas pinpointed on a map. the board was a maze of analysis and intrigue that many rebels would have helped contribute to. edwin didn't have long to investigate much of what was outlined on the board though for maven was quick to turn at the sound of their approaching footsteps, greeted by the sight of constance arm-in-arm with him and karelsa at each side. the entertainer offered maven a smile. she may very well be used to it but he couldn't imagine how taxing it must be having to oversee the outpost's current state of affairs right now. either way, he wasn't surprised she was quick to dismiss constance's own concern over her wellbeing. maven was not the type of person keen on dawdling over idle chit-chat and by how quick she was to reach for one of the folders on the desk, he could tell she had something in store for them. curious, edwin took a step toward the table to get a better look at the contents of the folder. maven was quick to spread out a number of polaroid photographs across the table. his eyes flickered across the row of images, watching as constance picked one up from the pile. from what he could tell, the photograph in her hand looked like a hasty snapshot of some sort of fencing lined with steel wire, sharp barbed edges pointing outward as though to dissuade those who might desire to invade its sanctuary. edwin couldn't help but lift one of the remaining photographs from the table himself, a picture depicting a grainy and obscured view of the junkyard through the wire connecting the vertical posts of steel fencing. his eyes shifted away from the image only when he heard maven begin to clarify just what they might be looking at here. we believe that they took the dreg to millard's salvage, a junkyard located a few miles northwest of here. the man shared a brief glance with constance. a dreg, huh? rescue operations are not exactly uncommon for the rebellion. scavengers certainly possess a far different set of motivations than either the conclave or the odawa syndicate do though, and like maven just explained, you can bet android parts can run for good profit on the black market. regardless of whose clutches a dreg might be in though, these sort of missions are not known to be easy undertakings. it's no surprise why maven sought to reach out to edwin and constance to get their input on her proposal. she knew it was most wise to try and secure the assistance of their seasoned capabilities. from the time they've spent in the rebellion they were both qualified to execute a mission like this and they just as well understood what was at stake. that, and they also had the proper facilities to run an operation like this relatively smoothly. their caravan could stow the dreg just as easily as it did those wastelanders they smuggled past the gates of arcadia during the onset of the lockdown. after a moment passed, edwin carefully placed the photograph back on to the table. regardless, constance had a fair point to make; they may be well prepared in certain regards but they were in no position to be charging in to a junkyard assuming the immediate upper hand no matter their proficiency. they simply did not have the firepower to relinquish zero from the scavengers without risking their own lives in the process. considering the scavengers managed to disrupt the dreg's transport to begin with, they probably were not to be trifled with unless he and constance were supplied with the adequate weaponry. edwin folded his arms across his chest. "agreed. just what sort of an arsenal can we expect to see these scavengers employ out there?"
indentthe look on maven's face told him she already had a plan in motion.
indentthe older woman redirected their attention toward one of the photographs hidden beneath the stack of polaroid pictures spread out on the table. her finger tapped what appeared to be a shed partially concealed by the fencing surrounding the junkyard. this might just be the first time edwin has ever been relieved to hear anyone mention a military bot. a part of him couldn't help but feel a pique of interest over the matter. he was no expert in conclave technologies to begin with but he knew the older robot models the conclave once utilized posed just as much a threat as their modern advancements. despite being decommissioned nowadays, perceptive termination military bots were heralded as one of the most dangerous robots the conclave ever manufactured and for good reason. considering the fact the latest prototypes are programmed to self-destruct in the face of defeat, edwin could not say he's had the chance to tinker with one of the robots before. as a result of their programming, no one can successfully scavenge the robots for parts, let alone get close enough to them without being mowed down by an assortment of explosives and sheer ammunition. still, edwin has learned at the hands of the best rebellion technicians and educators found within their ranks. that's not to say rewiring old domestic outstanding utilization golem prototypes was a task equivalent to managing combat robots, but there was still a lot of value in learning the machinery of technology the conclave have since terminated or stopped producing nonetheless. edwin more often than not worked with practical devices like holoprojectors, terminals or imagery devices they've managed to steal from the conclave over the last few decades. the rebellion has spent a lot of time reconfiguring and repurposing pre-existing conclave technology in order to create unique contraptions of their own but they also possess a number of older devices of conclave origin because of their usefulness. for instance, the holoprojectors most recently produced by the conclave have become a lot more sophisticated than most of what the rebellion currently have on hand. conclave soldiers or government officials have been known to utilize holoprojectors that display the entirety of their person in full color, not to mention without any filter or scan lines being visible. sometimes you'll find these planted into the framework of a robot, military vehicles and aircrafts, or even attached to the gauntlet of a soldier's power armor. the communication devices the rebellion use are just as efficient in recording, receiving, sending and displaying holograms as the newest models are, though. granted, they may be considerably lower in quality and have trouble rendering colors accurately due to feeding everything through a strong blue filter, but nonetheless they remained a valuable asset for their communication between different bases, outposts and headquarters. rebel technicians have made sure to disconnect any holoprojectors from conclave associated lines of contact due to the fact they are often traceable by location. a lot of broadcast footage across the wasteland still utilizes the older makes of holoprojectors, though cities more advanced than their neighboring areas might be fortunate enough to be equipped with a newer outfit entirely. on the other hand, a rather prominent derivative of conclave technology the rebellion has developed was that of synthflesh. in the conclave, biomechanical devices were often used to replace body parts ranging from internal organs and limbs even before the development of imagery devices. the rebellion relies on a similar form of cybernetic replacement for people whose limbs might be lost or destroyed due to dismemberment or disease. edwin was mentored under the very man who helped the rebellion unravel the secrets of the conclave's rather intricate cybernetic replacement procedure. much like that of edwin's parents, vernon hart was a conclave-trained technician who found his way into the rebellions ranks. edwin himself never saw through the vocational program he once pursued as a youth but he learned an impressive amount of skills under vernon's guidance as both an educator and a scribe nonetheless. after edwin's parents passed away, he was the one who took edwin under his wing which meant that aside from he and constance's caravan crew, vernon was certainly the closest thing edwin had left to family. the older man was responsible for deciphering a plethora of conclave technologies, reconfiguring them and modifying them to fit the rebellion's needs. when they first came into possession of one of the conclave's prosthetic replacements he was quick to replicate its function. in order to connect any sort of advanced prosthetic replacement to organic tissue, one would require an extensive background of practical knowledge and a complex synth-net neural interface, a device that provided the recipient both control and sensation. vernon and a few other technicians worked with rebel scientists and engineers to inform medics how they can safely integrate the neural interface to human flesh. it is a practice now widely taught to those pursuing medical careers in the rebellion. the older man told edwin it took him months of dismantling several makes of holoprojectors and smaller technologies until he came up with a device capable of covering external replacements. now known amongst rebels as synthflesh, vernon's technological pursuits yielded an illusion-based machinery generated to emulate actual organic tissue not much different from that seen in conclave society. vernon pioneered the first working model and documented its assembly in a blueprint secured at domum libertatis. while synthflesh is highly convincing, it still does not rival that of conclave imagery devices. extremely realistic, the conclave have been able to make prosthetics look exactly like organic skin and muscle. edwin knew they were often coded to match the recipient's flesh tone and muscle build by using their genetic code as a working template. given the rebellion's viable resources though, synthflesh worked on much simpler principles which accounted for some of its lack of perfection. even when they managed to get a hold of conclave imagery devices from cargo transport ambushes, it was a whole lot more efficient for the rebellion to have their own means of using otherwise dispensable items to create synthflesh when they might need it.
indentthey're going to send their c0ds-wall0p unit to greet you and take you to their safehouse. he calls himself gigabit plex. for now, anyway. i believe he tried to get everyone to call him 'generic war domination machine' a few months back. i assume you've met him before? edwin gave maven a slight nod. much like constance, he wasn't particularly enthused to hear the name gigabit plex being tossed around. the robot wasn't ill-intended but when it came to working with him he could be a bit of a nuisance. of course, edwin supposed they could have a far worse traveling companion to the safehouse than gigabit plex. after all, c0ds-wall0p units were known for their unique personalities and he couldn't much fault him for his programming. edwin smiled when constance jumped in to interject the inquiry maven made of him. her hand felt cool against his upper arm. "well, there you have it then." he chuckled, turning his gaze back to maven. "i'd never pass up the chance to kick danny and mikey to the curb for a much more useful companion, heh. honestly though, i won't say no. i'd be lying if i said i wasn't a little bit intimidated but then again, i'm sure you have access to some tools around here that would help us bypass that old terminal the robot is hooked up to?"
indent"precisely. i'm already one step ahead of you." maven took a step around the table, reaching across a stack of folders to pick up a small but sturdy device. she held out her hand to show them what looked like a portable interface arm, a palm-sized steel cylinder equipped with an adjustable multi-use tip. it's metallic surface gleamed in the light from a bulb hanging overhead. "there you have it. like i said, it shouldn't be a particularly difficult task hacking into the bot's terminal, so that's why it's possible you can get away with using an old school interface arm just like this one here. now, i can understand why you might be skeptical but remember, we're dealing with old conclave tech that has endured the passage of time. i don't want to bore you by any means either but in the event that something does go wrong, it might be helpful that i re-explain how these work to both of you." it was a grim thing to imagine the possibility of anything derailing their mission, but he knew she was just being sensible. if there was anything the failed operation at fort themus taught them, it was that there was nothing wrong with being cautious. edwin watched as maven's thumb tapped the button on the side of the device, causing it to extend its rotating tip. the port at the end of the interface arm could act as a standard access adapter, a computer input port, or a terminal interface socket. interface arms can readily plug into computers, holoprojectors, robots, vehicle or aircraft mainframes, and a number of other equipment the conclave have produced. the devices are particularly well known for their versatile function. "as you probably already know, some robots like the conclave's assistant bots have these tools attached to their person. this is actually an old model a lot of conclave technicians used to rely on for repairing military vehicles or aircraft. i don't have a working example to show you, but imagine plugging this end bit here into the terminal housing the robot's mainframe and communication information database. you'll have several options once you establish a working connection with the robot but we're not looking to hack the bot's interface to download information or deactivate anything, so you'll want to be careful not to initiate any other processes after bypassing the terminal's firewalls. either way, everything should be relatively straightforward from there on out so long as you're careful. you'll be able to program the military bot to set it's sights on the scavengers once you gain complete access to it's interface." with another press of her thumb the interface arm retracted back into itself. when the older woman offered the device to them, edwin accepted. he turned the portable interface arm around in his hand to briefly inspect the gadget before looking to constance. karelsa all but inserted herself between the pair in order to get a better look at the device. curious, she glanced up at the two of them. she's been relatively quiet since they first approached maven but he wasn't surprised by that. the older woman smiled at the sight nonetheless. "in any case, you will need to come up with a diversion to reach that shed. i suggest that you two consult with some members of your caravan crew. i'm not sure who might be most up for the task so i'll let you settle that between yourselves, and the same goes for whoever choses to locate zero while edwin works on the military bot. i don't want to keep you around too long so you can get a move on before you lose the setting sun altogether. if you do have any other questions though, you know where to find me. oh, and after you sort that out you may want to head to the lower left portion of the basement before you leave the outpost altogether, too." maven gestured toward the corner of the room she was referring to. "there's a supply of ammunition and other electronics you might find useful before hitting the road again. and thank you two for being so willing. i know this isn't an easy task to ask of you, but i can't imagine a better group than you lot to carry this out. make sure to be careful out there. i like you two." edwin chuckled at her concluding remark, tucking the interface arm into the inner pocket of his coat after karelsa had a chance to look at it. "over and out. if we think of anything else we'll be sure to find you before we head out."
indentthis time around, karelsa was the one squeezed in between edwin and constance as they departed maven's presence. by the time they reached one of the columns preceding the resting area, edwin began to slow in his tracks. he figured it might be best if they discuss strategy before they announced anything to their caravan crew. like maven mentioned just moments ago, they would need to judge who might be best suited for carrying out particular roles in their assigned mission. while he was elected to reboot the old robot they still needed to discuss who else planned to play an active role in recapturing the dreg. truth be told, he already had some names in mind. when karelsa realized the three of them had come to a gradual halt, she released their arms, joining constance and edwin in what was now starting to look like a small huddle. edwin looked between the two of them. "alright you two. i'm gonna make a proposition here. actually scratch that, it's more of a nomination. i'm thinking we could use some danny and mikey flair here. hell, maybe this is the perfect chance for the two of them to actually put together a genuine heroic story after all. erm, well actually on second thought maybe this is a bit of a dangerous combination considering those two are gonna embellish this story every single time they bring it up again in the future. before you know it they'll be claiming we weren't up against a pack of scavengers at all but rather some other fierce faction wanting zero for themselves." edwin chuckled, briefly casting his gaze beyond their shoulders to scrutinize the middlemost area of the basement. "anyway, upcoming tales of grand victory aside, i do think they could lead the diversion against the scavengers, or at-least distract them long enough to let us access the shed. besides, we all know how easily they like to draw attention to themselves without even meaning to under normal circumstances. with that being said we should probably go fetch danny then, huh? i didn't see him in the resting area earlier so i can imagine he's hanging around the stables right now trying to wrangle our sand-cats and bulb-dogs from keeping out of the horses pens. and uh, karelsa, i know you're gonna roll your eyes at this, but would you be willing to bring mikey over here so we can reconvene with him and danny before we go informing anyone else? i think i saw him sleeping earlier when we put our instruments away. you might want to be careful he doesn't bite your head off if you have to wake him up though." karelsa was quick to raise a brow at him. she immediately looked to constance for some sort of backup here. "wait, come on, do you guys really have to go and excuse danny from his responsibilities? i don't wanna be the only one pestering mikey. can we not just, you know, leave him be and not tell him at all? by the time he wakes up we'll be back here anyway. who knows how long he'll be knocked out for, and i don't wanna disturb that. i mean, don't get me wrong, i'm excited to be sorting this out with you guys right now but...can we not take a vote on this as well? i personally nominate edwin! me and constance should go find danny." she announced, defiantly crossing her arms across her chest. edwin tutted at her. "woah, not so fast there kiddo. you may wanna reconsider throwing me under the bus. after all, i don't know if danny would be much more receptive than mikey. he's gonna be in the middle of tending to our critters and you know how cross he can get with them. yeah, he might just lash out at the first person who even dares come his way. so before you two gang up on me, don't forget about that possibility." he reminded them, watching karelsa and constance warily. mikey certainly wouldn't be pleased over someone interrupting his slumber but someone had to bite the bullet for the team. besides, he wanted to check in with constance alone before they proceeded any further and he couldn't much do that if he was the one waking mikey. the younger girl seemed to consider his words for a moment as though to weigh her options. she eyed edwin dubiously before letting out a long, defeated sigh. "fine. but just so you know, i'm putting all the blame on you if mikey gets annoyed with me. you still okay sending me off to certain death?" edwin laughed, reaching a hand out to affectionately tousle her hair. "yup. sorry. it was nice knowing you, kid."
indentwith karelsa begrudgingly accepting the duty of waking mikey, constance and edwin parted ways with the young girl to depart the outpost's basement. having picked up one of the lit lanterns hanging about the perimeter of the basement on their way out, a golden glow of light ate away at the shadows stretching up their ascent to the outer world. he made sure to take the lead in the tunnel so that constance would be able to watch her step as they climbed up the rickety old wooden stairs. behind them, the hum of life coming from the basement soon became little more than hushed noise. secured with a metal dial on the outside, this passageway was the only route to directly access the basement of the church, effectively serving as the outpost's functioning exit and entrance. a vaguely earthy smell of mildew clung to the air around them. all things considered, edwin supposed it was a good thing maven offered them a mission to undertake. they've spent the majority of their days helping out around the outpost in what ways they could in addition to routinely checking in with maven, and while he certainly wasn't complaining, it was going to be nice for them to lend a hand elsehow too. that's not to say going face to face with a group of scavengers was going to be a cake-walk though. even if they had the assurance of recruiting the perceptive termination military bot to their side of the fight, there was still the matter of actually getting to the robot to begin with all the while successfully locating zero. it's no secret edwin has a penchant for overanalyzing the sort of things they might be getting themselves into. over the years its become something of a useful habit but it didn't help much for looking on the bright side of things. objectively speaking, he was sure they'd be fine so long as they acquired the protection of that inactive bot, but either way you have to be mentally prepared for something to go awry. he couldn't much recall a mission where everything has gone exactly to plan. humans are error-prone and just because you go over something multiple times with rote rehearsal nothing is ever guaranteed to pan out the way you want it to. of course, he wasn't so much worried about their capability in carrying out zeros' rescue as he was nervous about outmaneuvering those scavengers. he knew feeling tense was not necessarily a bad thing either. they would need to be on their toes at all times and if he wasn't apprehensive he could very well risk making a mistake. the line between healthy wariness and actual worry is a thin one though. when that sort of apprehension leads to unnecessary uncertainty all sorts of things can go off kilter in a mere matter of moments. edwin threw a curious glance over his shoulder to look at constance. her features were half-obscured by the darkness in the tunnel, the shadows combatting the light of the lantern he held in his hand and casting her visage in a frame of umbra. though he could just barely make out her countenance she still looked as fetching as always. "hey back there. erm, watch your step, don't let me distract you," he was quick to turn his own attention back toward the remaining steps before him to make sure he wouldn't trip after just advising constance to take heed. in general, it was not uncommon that constance was the one to ground edwin in his uncertainties. edwin often confided in them to help placate his worries because he knew they were gifted with a level head a lot more reliable than his own. the entertainer was curious to know just what she was thinking right now too, and whether she was considering any of the same things he were. given that maven offered them some free rein over the smaller intricacies of the rescue mission, he was curious to find out if constance had any immediate thoughts regarding the approach they should take. maven developed a clever framework for rescuing zero but she was careful not to impede on their own group dynamics. considering he and constance were no amateurs either, she understood certain revisions would have to be up to them. after realizing they'd fallen into another momentary lapse of quiet, edwin cleared his throat. "so what are you making of all this? you don't think mikey and danny are the wrong fit for carrying out the distraction, do you? if anything, they could probably get some help from the others if you have anyone in mind but i still feel like they're kind of the perfect duo to lead the charge. i could just be making the mistake of playing into their valiant wasteland warrior alter egos at this point though, giving them too much credit when it might not to be wise to do. they're capable, honestly, but we have to be careful nonetheless. i wouldn't want to make this any more complicated than it has to be." this wasn't their first dreg rescue, let alone their first mission with danny or mikey, but they did have to tread carefully. either way it was something they needed to consider and he wanted constance's input before they did offer danny a rather pivotal role in their mission. the rotting plywood creaked beneath the soles of his shoes when he finally stepped up to the final rung. he turned to constance with a look of amusement, raising the lantern to illuminate his face better. "last chance to abort mission, i'm afraid. maybe karelsa was right; we could just sneak off without danny or mikey altogether. it'd spare us a whole world of troubles, but hell, who am i kidding? what's the fun in carrying out a mission if we don't have their antics to keep us on our toes all night long?"

[vaell]

xxxxxＥＭＩＬＩＥ ＨＯＦＭＡＮＮ.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe chair of the council of economic advisors.
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indentemilie was pleased to hear sera accept her invitation to the pub.
indentintersecting glass shelves mounted on the wall behind the bar housed an impressive collection of lavish, premium quality liquors typically sought after by high society. among the bottles on display were some of the most luxurious tequilas in the market like the ley 925 diamante, packaged in a bottle crafted from pure platinum and white gold and adorned with over four thousand diamonds, or the patrón en lalique, an exceptional blend stored in an exclusive french crystal decanter. the pub was just as well stocked with exclusive rums like the angostura reserva, known for its medium-bodied palate of coconut, molasses, and hints of apple, or gins like the watenshi, composed of a sansho and juniper base and elevated with menthol notes of shiso and the lively acidity of yuzu citrus. aficionados across the nation revere the smooth, complex flavor profiles of the carefully crafted and aged liquors being offered tonight. emilie claimed a seat at the counter next to sera, planting the sole of a cap-toe oxford shoe against the stool's bracing bar footrest to hoist herself on to the chair. she was quick to adopt a position whereby her presence immediately occupied more space, sitting in a manner not far off from what might be considered manspreading. the economist placed an elbow on the counter of the bar, propping up her chin to watch sera from the corner of her eye. though a few other guests were hovering around the vicinity of the bar, this side of the sky parlor felt far less populated than where the president was receiving his many heartfelt congratulations. surrounded by boisterous chatter and uproars of laughter from people enjoying pleasant conversation with one another, emilie couldn't help but feel the tension between her and the other woman begin to set in now, especially given that they were no longer in the midst of their own social companions. she supposed she had nobody but herself to blame for that. judging by the words they've exchanged with each other thus far, it was no secret sera was not very impressed with her right now. she couldn't say she was particularly fond of the younger woman's own behavior either. emilie may not be a particularly perceptive person in the social sense but she knew when her advances were not being readily welcomed. would sera rather she dismissed her presence altogether, steering clear of her until they were all but forced to tolerate each other's company at their designated table tonight? the economist failed to acknowledge the ways in which her own avoidant behavior these last few months might have negatively impacted sera's perspective of her. as a woman herself emilie should have at-least understood the implications associated with sera's unwanted marriage arrangement but she has always been a rather peculiar case when it comes to the way she views the world, her outlook being one deeply and irrevocably shaped by a society supported by patriarchal sadomasochism. having spent the vast majority of her post-graduate career working with some of the slimiest bank tycoons and business magnates dominating wall street emilie was no stranger to the way men viewed their female coworkers. hell, quite frankly she spent a lifetime being viewed and treated as hopelessly stupid and wrong by the opposing gender be it in the field of academia or in the aforementioned world of business. it's why being taken seriously by those such men undeniably brings about a perverse feeling of superiority and pleasure, and ultimately the feeling of being right for a change. at the top of her game emilie headed one of the nation's leading multibillion dollar financial firms and investment banks, a career that certainly exposed her to a surplus of criticism but also an endless supply of quiet admiration from the very men who often looked down on women like her. truth be told emilie could hardly get enough of that sort of bogus freedom and the elation it brought her. she has always struggled against the feelings that come from being oppressed, censored, invisible, beaten down, repressed, unheard, or otherwise insignificant amongst those in their rather conservative society, and it left her with an insatiable desire to feel something, anything. since birth women have been shaped by the patriarchy, a calculated system fueling the bizarre cycle emilie herself has all but succumbed to. from their mother's wombs women have been taught and encouraged to feel a certain sort of way, to replicate and reinforce the traditionalist framework of their society by feeling distrust and hatred for other women in the hope that men may come to welcome them into their ranks as a result. she learned that was safe. in fact, anti-woman feelings are ultimately the only safe feelings a woman can dare have if she wants to persevere in the corporate industry. it should come as no surprise why emilie has all but purposefully tried to distance herself from the inherent female struggle. she would not openly identify with the bondage of her gender and even saw herself as removed from the degradation of their circumstance altogether, delusional and paradoxical as it may seem. honestly, emilie liked feeling powerful and being on the so-called 'right side', which unconsciously meant the men's side against women. the momentary feeling of not being like other woman, or rather not being a woman at all, is an incredibly intoxicating experience that evoked in her a physical and mental dependency not far off from what an addiction might. the very elation of being in the not-woman position just for a while is often so great that she has a hard time relinquishing such a feeling. it's an incredibly short-lived cycle nonetheless. you work to be accepted by your male colleagues but by the time you finally achieve their momentary approval, you don't have time to ride out the crest of that high before it subsides entirely. after all, most men have a way of reminding women not to get too comfortable with their so-called equal status.
indentit does beg the question though; just who is emilie hofmann then, if not a transparent composition of self-made inventions and half-truths? ever since girlhood she's been asking the world how she might best fit in to satisfy people who might otherwise criticize her. the number of times she has changed herself to better fit the way other people want to perceive her should be considered murder by all accounts. you're too sensitive and it makes you look emotional. okay, sure. i'll toughen up. you're far too quiet, you know. i can't even hear you. i'll make sure to speak up next time then. maybe emilie is nothing more than a mere product of the society she was born into, and furthermore an acquired extension of the patriarchy. to achieve what she has in the world of business she's had to be content with people whispering foul things behind her back or even sometimes directly to her face. by the time emilie was a high-profile wall street name with a thoroughly established reputation, she even became surrounded by men who felt comfortable making comments about other women around her because they assumed she was not the type to 'get offended' over a so-called joke. the field she worked in was one teeming with derogatory comments, objectification, misogynistic jokes, overfamiliar remarks, gratuitous comments about physical appearance, and an overwhelming lack of respect for women occupying leadership positions. back when she first entered the world of business and worked as an executive at the financial institution paragon corp. she could recall there was something of an ongoing joke insisting she was only hired to fill a certain gender-related quota. in fact, she couldn't quite remember the number of times her own colleagues 'mistook' her for being a secretary too, an obviously shallow jab solely intended to frustrate her. she found those sort of comments disrespectful on a number of fronts. after all, administrative jobs shouldn't be weaponized the way they most often are, but men do find it hilarious to play into gender-related stereotypes to belittle the achievement of their female coworkers. emilie did not care much to reflect on how trying it was to gain the respect she deserved amongst other wall street bigshots though. she forced herself into the space men claimed as their own and declared herself their peer and equal and that was that. what she didn't seem to want to acknowledge though was the fact that those men were the very same ones who would gladly ridicule her at even the slightest misstep. and that, they did. when emilie noticed where sera was looking, she was quick to redirect her attention to follow the other woman's gaze. her eyes landed on a pair of men stationed at either side of the double doors leading to the bar's mini kitchen, each clad in uniform suits and a pair of dark shades that concealed their eyes. ah. they must be secret service agents. the economist couldn't help but raise a brow when she heard the other woman's comment, an equally amused remark about to roll right off the tip of her tongue before a rather somber voice interrupted what she was about to say. at-least somebody here is having a grand time. emilie's pale eyes shifted at the sound. the humored look on her face was quick to fall at the sight of a d.o.u.g unit now staring them down from across the bar with it's three protruding eyes mounted on flexible stalks, undoubtedly permitting the robot a three-hundred and sixty degree field of view of the sky parlor. jesus christ. already feeling irked from being so abruptly cut off, emilie had to resist the urge to mutter something rather unkind beneath her breath. she had no justified reason for immediately going on the offense when it came to facing artificial intelligence but being raised in a family who made wild and baseless judgements regarding technological advancement in society certainly didn't help much. to condemn the abnormalities they associated with robots and androids her parents often referred to revelation 13:15; and it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain. it's no secret scripture is often handled irresponsibly by a number of christians who pointlessly push scientific understanding common to their modern society on to the aged text. her parents were guilty of viewing that particular passage in a way that framed john's apocalyptic vision to be future technological change that would bring about damning consequences to the world. when it comes to cybernetics, her family's senseless fear of the unknown was the sort of thing anyone with an ounce of intellect would laugh at, herself included. while emilie didn't attribute her disdain for robots to be stemming from any religious beliefs of her own, she's certainly been slow to come around to the conclave's creations for one reason or another. she wanted to be open to the prospect of technological change and innovation but more often than not she found herself growing exasperated by the programming of their obnoxious personalities or tactless demeanors, much like the mechanical barkeep that hovered before her and sera right now. emilie eyed the d.o.u.g unit suspiciously when it demanded they hurry up and order a drink. maybe you would be better off crushed and recycled into a soda can, she wanted to grumble. the economist shifted in her seat under its three-eyed scrutiny, folding her arms across her chest. unlike the woman beside her who was at-least letting out a laugh over the audacity of the robots behavior, emilie didn't seem impressed in the slightest. judging by her tense body language it was probably better if sera handled the majority of conversation with the robot. after all, this mechanical bartender was not acting in a way ordinary for d.o.u.g units. they were often overly cheerful, affable, or even excessively jovial from her experience and she did not much care to entertain this one's lousy attitude, be it because of improper programming or not.
indentthe robot's tedious explanation concerning the disappearance of the other bartender sera inquired about was one that actually managed to elicit a wink of humor in emilie. she regarded the d.o.u.g unit with a mildly impressed look. in a year, that’s over $9,600 in liquor wasted. a travesty in this business! apparently that thing was business savvy, or at-least capable of being financially conscientious at that. she tried not to chuckle at the exchange that transpired between sera and the d.o.u.g unit. her sarcasm flew right over its head. emilie wasn't surprised to hear the younger woman proceed to order a negroni for herself either. given the assortment of rather pricey, extravagant drinks sera had the opportunity to choose from, emilie's wallet was certainly relieved to hear it. she leaned forward a little on the stool when sera finished speaking, folding her arms on the counter. "uh, i'll have a rye manhattan on the rocks. extra bitters." she added, curt. the economist thrummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, impatiently waiting for the robot to get a move on already. of course, the d.o.u.g unit only hovered off after it had the chance to make another few concluding quips. emilie suppressed a scowl as she watched its metallic form float off by virtue of its single jet thruster. her attention only returned to sera when she heard the woman speak up beside her. it sounds like it has one screw too loose and i don't want to be attacked by a robot with a corkscrew. a short, mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "what, you mean you don't carry a plasma sword on you all the time just in case you need to dice up one of those useless hunks of metal into a pile of wire and scrap parts? tsk." while emilie was only kidding, she certainly wouldn't mind seeing this so-called mister buckingham reduced to a pile of rubbish for its insolence. her eyes lingered on sera for a moment before she averted her gaze altogether. the sudden lapse of quiet they fell into was only expected. she could put on a show and be all bluff and bluster in front of her colleagues and the morgan family all she wanted, inviting sera to this and that but when it came down to it, even emilie could not successfully bypass the unease that now lay thick between the two of them. it proved difficult to navigate what has become of their relationship. the feelings she harbored for sera have never been easy to deconstruct to begin with. she cared for the younger woman and ─ dare she say, still loves her ─ but high society does not look favorably upon those who stray outside their beloved traditionalist values, religious doctrines, and conservative tradition. emilie knew well enough just how deeply christianity has become woven into their heteronormative culture. just like her own family, most followers of the faith believe in the traditional family and the authority of a man in the household; everything that having an open mind about sexuality or gender would destroy. they feel threatened by honest engagement with those who do not uphold their homophobic or oppressive sentiments, often meeting said people with disgust, misrepresentation, or even violence. think leviticus 20:13. the old and the new testament of the bible both contain explicitly anti-homosexual passages, and if the bible professes something, then it must be respected, right? in addition to potentially being condemned for her sexuality should such a thing become public knowledge, emilie was already someone accused of apostasy in the eyes of the evangelical church for otherwise abandoning her former religious faith and beliefs. her parents would not forgive her and her sister annika refused to accept her decision to walk away from that part of her life. emilie already knew how harrowing it felt to be harassed, insulted, and disrespected by her own family without the entire world condemning her on the basis of her sexuality at the same time. how could anything as harmless as love be considered so inherently wrong, though? most people hailing from the bureaucratic side of the conclave treat same sex relationships like an abomination not belonging to this world. they would certainly never view the love between two women like emilie and sera as legitimate. emilie has struggled with accepting her own sexuality for as long as she could remember because she did not grow up in an accepting community. her internalized homophobia still revolves around her elaborate dances with guilt, denial, shame, fear, and desire. she grew up with the idea that she was wrong to want women carnally and she carried that notion with her throughout adulthood like it were something she would one day have to atone for. it was not fair how they could not love who they wanted to without risking their reputations, their career, and ultimately their security in the professional and social spheres of society. their relationship would never be taken seriously by their colleagues, critics, or family members. she and sera would undoubtedly be objectified, sexualized, fetishized, and dehumanized should they ever have a chance to pursue a public relationship together. even despite detesting that which strays from traditional norms and expectations, it's no secret lesbians are often lusted after by larger male dominated society simply because seeing two women together appeals to them. that's the thing, though. men just like the idea of seeing two women together. women can only be together for the entertainment and pleasure of men, but if they actually enjoy each other’s company more than the man then oh, that’s bad. insecure masculinity surely has a lot to do with the way people view same sex relationships in their society. it's also why so many men react so viscerally and negatively toward butch women like emilie who don't abide by traditional demonstrations of femininity. she's the exact opposite of their fantasies, androgynous and masculine enough that it starts to bring forward the panic that 'this woman could be more of a man than i am'. a lot of men are threatened by people who are not more in line with gender preconceptions such as herself.
indentsera managed to catch emilie's attention again when she began to inquire about her affairs. whether or not her interest was genuine, the economist straightened in her seat all the same. she cleared her throat a little. "that would be after the state of the union address, actually. i expect the report to be published no later than ten days after the budget of the government gets submitted." she clarified. its relatively easy to distract emilie with her own interests if you grant her the opportunity to speak on them. after all, she's not a particularly modest person. she likes when conversation revolves around her and her work. still, she regarded sera with a mildly entertained look at the mention of her colleagues. "james and roy are helpful enough. and despite what you might be trying to suggest, they're plenty competent." contrary to the way she deflected sera's relatively innocuous remark, she couldn't help but silently concur with her observation. her two colleagues are interesting characters, for lack of a better word. emilie was just being difficult with her right now. truthfully, she's known the two men far too long now. emilie first met roy anderson around eight years ago when commonwealth financial corp. signed a definitive merger agreement with ergo. corporate mergers such as market extensions are common practice, often taking place between two companies seeking to gain access to a bigger market and therefore a more extensive client base. the benefit of combining their business operations was projected to significantly increase shareholder value, and that it did. when emilie went on to step into her role as chief executive officer at ergo, roy remained a part of the firm's advisory board. unlike a board of directors, those who preside on an advisory board do not have any fiduciary responsibility, nor are they authorized to make binding decisions on behalf of the company. rather, they are expected to provide current knowledge, critical thinking, and analysis to increase the confidence of the executive who represent the company, herself included. james glaeser, on the other hand, was someone she met later in her career when she arrived at the washington institute's department of economics. she supposed she was fortunate to have experiences with both her immediate counsel prior to working together in office with them. granted, sometimes emilie almost wondered if they were too familiar with one another. if their earlier debate was any indication, they often fail to see eye-to-eye on a lot of theoretical propositions in the world of academia, especially when it comes to policy analysis. emilie absentmindedly ran a hand through the middle of her hair where it was parted, glancing at sera. "anyway, the report is coming along just fine. while i can't disclose much to you, i can say it's been in the works for some time now. i suppose these last few months have been especially demanding since i've been trying to finalize the ninth and last chapter. coming to the end is always bittersweet, you know. it's been a real pleasure to work on the document but i do miss having a good night's sleep." she admitted, chuckling. emilie figured it was worth casually reminding sera just how busy the report has kept her these last few months and the additional toll its taken on her health. if she could convince the younger woman her lack of communication had more to do with her preoccupied state of affairs than any aggrieved feelings then perhaps she would not be so quick to vilify her. the likelihood sera might buy into that sort of an excuse seemed rather pitiful though. she knew the younger woman was smarter than that and she knew she would not easily take the bait of a false lure. emilie let out a short sigh, speaking in a more genuine manner now. "all things considered though, it's probably a stretch to think i'll even have a chance to relax once the report is out. with the current shape of the economy and its practical and theoretical structure? forget it. i can already imagine the sort of public criticism the release of the report might attract. i don't just mean for the year in review, but for the year ahead too. you must know how it is. someone is always eager to pick apart the importance of certain data or goals. and i mean, that sort of logic can be applied beyond just the report too. if it's not the single-minded scholars suddenly coming out of the woodwork to speak against my recent modeling proposals, then it's my own colleagues finding it humorous to play devil's advocate when they know just how long i've been─"
indent"ah-hem! a manhattan composed of two ounces rye whiskey, one ounce sweet dolin rouge vermouth, and three dashes of angostura bitters garnished with a high-grade maraschino cherry! and for you, a negroni with a one-to-one-to-one ratio of equal parts bourbon whiskey, campari and vermouth, topped with a maraschino cherry instead of a lemon peel, as requested!" effectively interrupting them in the middle of their conversation, two of the d.o.u.g unit's metal arms simultaneously reached out to place their drinks on the bar in front of them, its pincers carefully releasing the circumferences of the pair of old fashioned glasses. emilie pursed her lips at the robot's intrusion, cutting herself off from what else she was going to say. it took everything in her power not to snap at the robot. of course just when she was trying to be somewhat candid and open with sera for once, their mechanical bartender would proceed to talk right over her efforts. the economist couldn't help but glower at the way the three-eyed robot expectantly stared the two of them down. she muttered something under her breath, irritably jamming a hand into one of the jetted pockets on the outside of her blazer to find her wallet. she fished out a buffed calfskin bifold wallet from her blazer, matte black in color and embossed with the rocco giordano logo. opening the billfold, she briefly scrutinized its interior. the wallet was relatively compact, lined with eight card slots and two bill compartments. after a moment emilie decisively pulled out an ergo centurion card between two of her fingers. by the way she was behaving right now, it was evident she was frustrated over making an attempt to engage in meaningful conversation with sera only to be shut down altogether. with the black card now slotted between her fingers, emilie set her elbow on the counter, extending her wrist toward mister buckingham who promptly snatched the card from her grasp. she watched the robot hold her card up between its mechanical pincers. minted out of anodized titanium, accented with stainless steel, and laser-engraved, the black card has become something of a status symbol among the most affluent of conclave society alongside the voyage morgan card. ergo reserves the centurion card for the company's wealthiest clients who meet certain net worth requirements, credit quality, and spending requirements on their gateway card, the platinum card. premium luxury credit cards are currently the most exclusive credit cards on the market and often solely reserved for the ultrawealthy. given that emilie once headed the firm though it's no surprise why she has a centurion card in her name. it's not the only sort of non-cash benefit she enjoyed as the chief executive officer for ergo, either. she used to have access to a number of different ground transportation perks, including company cars, privileged parking, or even a car and driver. additionally, she even had the option of jet travel should she want to board a corporate plane for either personal or business-related ventures. granted, the discouraging logistics associated with animal attacks on aircraft often made flying a less frequent occurrence. it was even typical for emilie to be backed by a private security detail during said travels or public appearances. corporate spending on personal security for high-profile chief executive officers has grown considerably over the last decade or so in light of growing concerns regarding the safety of notable conclave figures. nowadays no precautions seemed too outrageous anymore. mister buckingham was quick to run her centurion card, charging her for the two drinks they ordered in one single transaction. emilie dutifully returned her card to her wallet once the transaction was complete. just when she was tucking her wallet back into her blazer, she heard the robot speak up again. "alas, in a last resort effort to wring you dry, i have no choice but to suggest you two try a bottle of isabella’s islay silver cenél nóengusa for your next round of drinks. as our finest single malt islay whiskey in a quality silver and gold decanter, you might be surprised to hear it's only but a measly $6,200,000 expenditure! and before you ask, yes, you did hear me correctly, so don't be so fast to put all your metal cards away just yet." emilie was quick to interject before sera had the chance to. the last thing she needed was the other woman taking the opportunity to sink her into a couple million-dollar hole of debt. "that's quite alright." she insisted, coming across rather firm. stowing her wallet away, emilie clasped her hands on the counter and gave mister buckingham a forced smile to get her point across. the robot narrowed its three eyes at her before looking to sera. "well then. you're certainly a frugal one, aren't you! my sincerest apologies to your companion here. if you're so keen on turning your nose up at our most refined whiskeys, then you lot sure are missing out on the typical enjoyment and revelry that humans often derive from celebration. ha-ha!" mister buckingham chortled to himself as he began to hover off, quick to attend to another guest taking a seat a few stools down from them before either women might have a chance to get a word in. a muscle twitched in her jaw though she managed to hold back what comment she wanted to make. with the d.o.u.g unit no longer pestering them, the economist silently leaned forward in her seat, taking the base of the lowball glass between her fingers. the cocktail was relatively cool to the touch. emilie eyed the clear amber-colored liquor critically before raising the drink to her lips, taking a slow sip of the libation. the manhattan was just as strong and spirit-forward as she hoped it would be. while she could taste the undertones of herbs and spices in her mouth, the drink packed a certain bitterness that toned the sweetness of the vermouth down a notch just the way she liked it. with the glass still to her lips, emilie observed sera from the corner of her eye. despite the fact the robot made a relatively harmless interjection just moments earlier her composure has been notably disturbed since then. in fact, the economist could feel her vexation simmering just beneath the surface right now, barely constrained. emilie lowered her glass after a moment. the manhattan left a rather bitter aftertaste on her tongue, likely from the angostura. glowering into the contents of her glass to avoid making eye contact with the other woman, she couldn't help but disturb the silence between the two of them. "so, let me guess. i suppose you expect me to ask you what's going on in your corner of the world now, don't you?" she asked the younger woman sourly, muttering something else beneath her breath. there was absolutely no need for emilie to displace her insecurity onto sera right now but her growing irritation was certainly getting the best of her. the d.o.u.g unit successfully exasperated her patience to the point where she couldn't help but grow standoffish. after all, emilie did not particularly enjoy being made to look the fool in front of sera.
indentbefore the younger woman might have the chance to make a remark of her own, emilie carried on, almost petulant in manner. "sure, why not. let's see, how have things been over at bureau? i can imagine you've all been quite busy, all things considered. you know, i think i remember the average costs of violence and crime amounted to about 2.75 percent of gross domestic product this last year. it's a shame crime is such a major impediment to economic growth and development. you and i both know how quickly it leads to economic uncertainty, discourages long-term investment and new employment opportunities, and furthermore erodes the rule of law. correct me if i am wrong, but hasn't the city of pandora continued to report some of the highest crime rates beyond that of the capital or los angeles? i do believe it falls on the bureau to handle the elimination of organized crime that poses the biggest threat to our national and economic security, so i do have to wonder just what sort of prevention strategies are being enacted to combat the influence of criminal enterprises when the data suggests little improvement over the years. oh, but all of that is certainly beyond my scope of expertise though. i'll just have to leave that business to the experts like yourself, won't i?" she laughed, though her words were certainly more fault-finding and provoking than they were lighthearted. emilie was all but carping over matters she had no business trying to stick her nose into, at-least when it came to handling violent crime, that is. the city of pandora, however, was not just some bizarre, otherworldly entity to her like it might be to most conclave citizens. during her nearly seven year tenure at ergo the firm became a leading competitor in the city's housing market targeted toward tainted-bloods, devising and approving intricate financial plans to entice the inhabitants of the wasteland to reject the bottle cap currency they rely on. given the government's ongoing endeavors to assimilate the wasteland populace it's no surprise some of the largest conclave banking firms in the nation offer financial programs that are downright exploitative. conclave banking is typically advertised to the wasteland population as the safe, stable, and proper way to manage one's finances, while bottle cap exchanges are construed as exploitative and vulturine. with their primitive financial practices and knowledge, tainted-bloods are relatively easy to take advantage of. after all, these are the same sort of people who rely on bartering transactions, a practice whereby both parties can simply determine the value of items and provide the amount that results in the optimal allocation of resources. they would not realize if they were being wrongly overcharged on rent or mortgages, nor would they understand how to successfully keep themselves out of debt. the conclave banking system was not designed with the lower and middle class households in mind to begin with. major banks like voyage-morgan lovett & co, ergo, and the d.c. esteem bank group impose outrageous overdraft fees, debit card swipe fees, and atm withdrawal feels in order to combat the fact that many checking accounts are simply not profitable enough. these sort of charges in the banking system lead to significant burden and barrier of entry for tainted-bloods in particular. the largest banks in the nation primarily seek to maximize their profits, often leaving wastelanders otherwise burdened with an excess of fees. still, emilie strongly believed that ergo's services offered tainted-bloods a viable door into the financial mainstream. after all, wastelanders are given the generous opportunity to access different services and conveniences they would never be able to come across in the wasteland. helping low income individuals plan for the future and build financial stability was even something ergo claimed to strive toward. if a notion like that were ever to be true though, then the conclave's major financial institutions would need to reform their practices and services and offer transparency, lower costs, and personalized services to tainted-bloods. banks like ergo are incredibly predatory, holding back certain opportunities for lower income individuals and households to save money, develop their credit, or create financial stability for themselves. emilie was well aware of that and she didn't have any problems with the sort of blood-purity disparities ergo helped expand during her tenure either. it's all just part of what makes the world go round. banks are simply not designed to serve tainted-bloods in the same manner they are pure-bloods. as the former chief executive officer, chairman, and director of ergo emilie not only managed the operations and resources of the firm and made major corporate decisions, but she was also the main liaison between the board of directors and corporate operations in addition to serving as the public face of the company. in the world of business its not unusual to see the positions of chief executive officer, chair, and director being combined into one responsibility. in the case of ergo, it was certainly necessary in order to streamline their operations post-merger with commonwealth financial corp. in general, a board of directors often monitor the operations of a company to ensure its being run in conjunction with the mandate of the corporation and the will of the shareholders, whereas the chief executive officer is the management position responsible for driving those operations. therefore, without having an independent chair, her triply-combined role meant she was practically monitoring herself, a luxury that could easily bring around the sort of abuse common to the position. right before emilie retired from her executive position at ergo several years ago, the company was in a tough spot facing a billion dollar settlement with the federal government as well as a number of losses due to a year of scandals and paying fines. the future of ergo in terms of new leadership rapidly became an popular source of intrigue on wall street at the time. emilie announced she would be stepping down from the company in an early retirement from the banking business but many financial news sources have speculated other circumstances led to her departure from ergo, particularly performance problems. in light of her leave, emilie faced public scrutiny and criticism by a number of online, news, and print outlets for allegedly failing to identify and monitor areas of the company drifting from its mandate and not placing corrective measures to get ergo back on track, something by which many argue a board with an independent chair could have competently executed. a string of conclave company failures have been associated with the relationship of a company's management and board of directors, so any shortcomings linked to a lack of segregation of duties typically heightens that conversation. the practice of combining chief executive officer, chair, and director into one role has been criticized to reduce transparency and accountability due to fewer checks and balances created by having two separate positions with separate job functions. for instance, executive pay can lead to a notable conflict of interest. executive compensation is decided by the board of directors, and a chief executive officer who is also chair can vote on their own compensation. the truth is, emilie was not any better than the next banking tycoon in the conclave financial industry. the board is required by legislation to have members independent of management but that didn't stop her from influencing the activities of the board at large. the type of people who work hard to rise in a company have traits that make them good businessmen but not good people to be around, herself included. emilie made a name for herself in the corporate banking industry by shaping the framework of ergo today, a national investment bank and financial services organization proudly built upon the repeated oppression of tainted-bloods for the so-called greater good.
indentemilie couldn't help but glance at sera again, absentmindedly running a finger along the rim of her manhattan. at this rate, she was all but putting another nail in her coffin by continuing on. "in any case, i'm sure you've been up to your ears with work, no reminders needed. or are your colleagues having to pick up slack for you now that you've been so caught up in the morgan family's affairs? you know, what's-their-faces number one, two, and three? i'm probably missing another one of your other cronies, aren't i? god, those poor bastards will deserve a pay raise by the end of the year." even though emilie wasn't intentionally trying to demean sera, her work ethic, or her capabilities, she was coming off a bit derisive. her snarky attitude seemed to be lingering from their earlier encounter with the d.o.u.g unit and her own personal feelings toward the other woman have been eagerly waiting to seize their conversation. the two of them desperately need to confront the state of their relationship and discuss the last few months but because they can't, it's no wonder certain resentments were beginning to surface behind veiled insults or snide remarks. there is no other viable way for them to hash out their emotions without making a scene right now, and even then emilie has proven herself resistant to the idea of engaging in open dialogue with sera, a prospect that only made matters worse when it came to potentially resolving their ongoing conflict. the notion of making any progress on that front seemed to cease a long time ago when emilie stopped entertaining sera and her efforts altogether. what was at first a slow retreat into solitude, offering the younger woman half-excuses and claiming to be busy, quickly turned into weeks, and then months characterized by an upheaval of sheer and utter frigidity. emilie believed sera's situation with the morgan family to be far simpler than what it was, and a part of that might have a lot to do with the way she perceived her mother growing up. much like how she refused to see sera's point of view now, emilie used to all but blame her parents' miserable marriage on her mother's inability to deter her own father from setting the arrangement up in the first place. hell, according to some tacky gossip outlets she and her younger sister annika are only the products of some sort of corrupted business strategy her maternal grandfather dieter steinhäusser orchestrated for the benefit of medX pharmaceuticals back in the day. those sort of headlines popped up all the time back when she first announced she would be relinquishing control of ergo and appointing an interim chief executive officer, yet another demeaning attempt by the media resorting to speculative rumors to try and draw more negative attention to her complicated departure from wall street. even if there is no truth to be found in those sort of articles or magazines, just what about that accusation screams 'true love'? the truth is, emilie has never known what to make of her mother. the older woman didn't live a life she chose for herself and out of jealousy or resentment for what supposed freedom emilie had, she often made her the object of her critical scrutiny all the time. maybe emilie's mother always saw too much of herself in her eldest daughter and that's why she used to treat her the way she did. she always professed the lord brought her and her husband together but emilie had a feeling that was the only way the older woman could properly cope with her situation at all, pretending as though their marriage was an act guided by jesus christ himself. at the end of the day though, emilie didn't really care to hear what sort of self-righteous excuse her mother might have. the suffocating fundamentalist upbringing she endured as a result of her parents' uncompromising involvement with the christian faith has done nothing but breed a whole heap of acrimony between her and her family. it was bizarre to think that the evangelical courtship they partook in to form their marriage was a concept once deemed to be completely normal in the eyes of a faith-abiding adolescence like emilie. how could it not be? after all, her parents incessantly painted their marriage as the purest form of devotion to the christian faith, like a standard to one day be upheld by both her and annika. honestly, it's a surprise neither of them ended up being forced into marriage with a stranger of their own. emilie had a number of hefty scholarships riding on her admission to the washington institute and she used them as a shield to protect herself from the chance her parents might have any unspoken desires to rip her autonomy away from her. fortunately for them, annika ended up marrying the sort of man her parents would have arranged her to wed anyway. at-least one of the two sisters were still in favor with their parents. regardless, they were both strange people, her mother and father. for individuals so involved in the scientific community, they have no semblance of how to separate logic, science, faith, and religion. maybe that alone says enough about who they are, though. they were each born into strict christian households and that was not something easily escapable even as an adult. emilie herself was no stranger to that struggle.

[vaermina]

ＣＯＮＳＴＡＮＣＥ ＡＤＬＥＲxxx
I.xdemigirlx II.xthe rebellionx III. an entertainer known as dahlia


indentconstance watched edwin accept the portable interface arm from maven. she eyed the piece of technology curiously. it was strange to think how such an outdated gadget would help them access the military bot's interface but she was not going to question its capabilities. it was a miracle that they were able to hack into the military bot to begin with. compared to some of conclave's newest technology, though, the perceptive termination military bots are some of the easiest robotics for the rebellion to dissect. most of the models were created before the 2400s and depended on parts and gadgets that could be found in the wasteland. of course, that's not to say that it was easy getting your hands on said robots. they are one of the more dangerous robotic models produced by the conclave for a reason. constance looked back to maven before smiling at her concluding remark. "of course. you can't use these scavengers to get rid of us that easily. oh, and before we go..." upon her request, maven handed her an old, folded up paper that displayed a map of the junkyard but her mind remained troubled as they departed from maven's table. the risks would be high for this mission. scavengers do not have the most positive of reputations across the wasteland. some of them are quiet and cunning folk, usually seeking out old pre-war ruins to scavenge for valuable materials while others - such as the ones residing in the junkyard - are violent, greedy and unscrupulous at best. scavengers like the ones in the landfill have no qualms going to extreme lengths to ensure themselves a paycheck, and dismantling a second generation conclave android must be like hitting a gold mine for them. android parts sell for a pretty penny on the black market, especially second generation parts. the components and modules used to craft second generation androids are one of a kind; the scavengers would not give up zero without a fight. and what's to say that zero himself could not pose a danger to them? androids are fickle creatures at best, and notoriously capable when it came to their military prowess and durability. there have been times where even the first generation models - basic skeletal creatures with hardly any additions to their bare-bone abilities - have resisted significant amounts of firearm damage by pushing themselves to their core limits, damn their destroyed limbs and all. the second generation models have proven to be even more durable and considerably more intelligent than their predecessors. constance has always found their intelligence to be an interesting concept. it was artificial, of course and mandated purely on knowledge bounded by specific set of predetermined parameters but they have been granted the capabilities to think independently, even if they are not able to understand the nuances of human behavior and common sense. they are the middle ground between the first generation androids who are preprogrammed with basic training to respond to simple commands with simple actions and the third generation androids who show remarkable self-sufficiency, creativity, critical thinking, and complex problem-solving skills. second generation androids are able to hold conversations with their human counterparts but you won't be able to pull any sort of emotional depth or vigorousness from said conversations. they do not have the emotional capabilities that people do but they are able to understand and perhaps even self-internalize concepts such as longing, desire and curiosity. of course they do because how else would zero have been able to convey his aspirations to the undercover rebel technicians? it was clear to constance that second generation androids were the conclave's medium ground in terms of their experiments on artificial intelligence. they were created to be robotic soldiers like their predecessors but with the bare bones of the advanced artificial intelligence that their successors now possess. hell, they even look like they are the result of some happy medium between the two. they are not organically produced like third generations but they are not walking skeletons of thin wires and old metal plating. people found them to be ominous but constance did not mind them as much as she did their younger brethren. the organic androids are the ones that people found to be widely fearful, upsetting and sinful creatures. artificial intelligence has always been a delicate topic for the human race to discuss; people have always been afraid of what would happen should they push their limits and focus too much on scientific prosperity than organic morality. would artificial intelligence grow smart enough to overthrow the human race? at-least robots and the first and second generation androids appear what they are. you cannot tell the difference between an actual human being versus that of a third generation android model. third generation androids are quite literally walking forms of human flesh grown and constructed in bioengineer labs. constance was not sure how the conclave does it - the art of android engineering is a tightly kept secret, even amongst those in conclave society. what she does know is that third generation androids are smarter, stronger and far more dangerous to the integrity of wasteland society than their predecessors. they are feared and despised by many, and particularly coveted by the odawa syndicate when it came to orchestrating their demises. what if zero thought they were apart of the odawa syndicate? how would they be able to convince him they were friends and not foes? the question totally slipped her mind when they were talking with maven. zero was most likely not too keen on heeding the whims of human beings right now, and there was no telling if he would be hostile to them or not. second generation androids can be just as dangerous as some of the military's finest robots when provoked, and neither constance nor their crew had the firepower to defend themselves against an angry android.
indentconstance stopped when she felt karelsa let go of their arm. it took her a moment to realize that edwin led them over to an old brick column preceding the outpost's resting area. she looked to edwin curiously. "mikey and danny?" she echoed. it's not a bad idea... or is it? anyone who knew danny and mikey would automatically think of them when the word distraction pushes itself into a conversation. there was quite literally nobody in their crew better suited to carry out such a task but there were obvious dangers aligned with it. mikey and danny excelled in the art of speech and shenanigans but when it came to being warriors, well, not so much. as much as danny liked to claim he was one of the wasteland's top five menaces, the scavengers in the junkyard would not hesitate to fill him full of bullets if he and mikey frazzled their nerves. the scavengers killed nearly every rebel apart of zero's transport crew just to get their hands on the android and if that gave them any indication of who these people are, they would happily spill blood to protect their prizes. constance did not like the idea of sending danny and mikey out to put on a show for a band of dangerous people but what other options do they have? they had to deploy some type of distraction to get the scavengers away from the shed and where they were guarding zero, and it's not like they had any fireworks to set off to capture the group's attention. mikey and danny are their best bet for none of the rest of them possessed the two men's affinity for the machiavellian. yes, mikey and danny are lazy, loquacious, pugnacious, vexing and wacky but they are also guileful, adept and doyens in the art of comedic skits and distractions. they are the only ones capable of pulling this off successfully. however, that did not mean that constance was eager to send them into what could be a potential death trap. they were going to need some backup so they could escape when the chaos started. constance smiled at karelsa's hesitation. she did not blame the teenager for her uncertainty over waking up mikey. the old man could be quite grumpy when pulled out of his precious naps. she did not envy karelsa the task but it wouldn't hurt for her to be the one to wake him up. karelsa was on the quiet side, and did not regularly seek out contact with some of their more boisterous members. in any case, it was good exposure therapy and constance would like to see karelsa begin to feel more comfortable around some of their other crewmates. it was good to have a strong connection with each and every person you travel with for you never know when the day will come when they might be the one to save your life. "you're lucky that january isn't women's appreciation month or else you'd be legally obligated to fetch both mikey and danny," constance warned edwin with a snort. she looked to karelsa sympathetically as edwin tousled her hair. "don't worry about mikey. he'll piss and moan at first but gradually come around, especially if he has some whiskey left over from last night. and if not? well, we'll make sure to bury you with your instruments," she joked, sending the younger girl off with an encouraging nudge.
indentconstance followed edwin to the basement's stairs, their hands reaching out in momentary habit to touch the ivy-covered walls as they made their way up the rickety flight of stairs. what little light the basement offered them was soon snuffed out by the darkness of the old stairwell, the flickering light of edwin's lantern the only source they had to guide them up to the surface. constance was careful not to trip over her own feet as she pulled the map of the junkyard out of her jerkin's pocket. the map was a layout of the junkyard's floor plan with its pasted diameters, square feet, exit and entry points and significant items of interest such as a car crusher and an old industrial waste incinerator. she doubted that the latter two were used anymore. the junkyard was no longer supplied with electricity. still, the junkyard was pretty significant in terms of size. there was a main entrance, obviously with what looked like several smaller entrances scattered throughout the fence line. some of them were crossed out with a red pen with the words DEMOLISHED BY CONCLAVE written next to them. huh. the conclave probably blocked out those exits when they realized it would only increase the junkyard's chances of suffering a security breach. it looked like only two of the smaller exits were saved from being closed up. alright. the shed was located in the back corner of the lot, circled and marked in bright red SECURITY MAINTENANCE SHED. it looked like the only way in and out of the junkyard was through the main entrance, a door in the northwest fence line and a door in the east fence line that was located not too far from where the shed was marked on the map. that door would most likely be their most solid entrance point unless it happened to be locked from the inside. damn it. why did she not think of that possibility sooner? the scavengers could have easily put some sort of lock on the side entrances to restrict unwanted entry, which meant they would have to find some way through the chain-link fence if they wanted to sneak their way inside. they had bolt cutters in the back of their storage wagon for situations like these but should a scavenger wander by and notice a huge hole in the fence line, it would surely arouse suspicions and that would not be ideal if they had yet to recover zero from the junkyard. the worst possible hiccup in this scenario was finding themselves trapped inside the salvage yard with no way of escaping, especially if the military bot scheme happened to fail. there were a lot of things that could go wrong with this mission. something could go wrong with the military bot and finding zero; something could go wrong with danny and mikey's distraction techniques and put them in the bullseye of incoming danger. they could possibly plant one or two of their best sharpshooters near the entrance to provide them with cover when things went inevitably south but what if a bullet strayed too far and hit one of their crewmates? what if someone happened to discover their ploy midway and decided to recklessly attack? there were so many unknowns in this situation, so many curves and twists that fate could take to either hinder or aid the rebels but constance did not see any way of avoiding it. they had to take the risk because they had no other choice. they could sit here at the outpost and plan out a clever, intricate and dexterous heist that only a canny vulpine could conjure but life tends to walk an uncharted path in terms of nature and the concept of life, death and fate. none of them have the power to predict what will happen in the future. they don't have the power to change fate nor was it a wise idea to tempt its wrath but they could surely take precautions to help steer the chances in their favor. danny and mikey are not soldiers, no matter how much they claim to be. they would need some sort of backup to help them escape the crossfire when the bedlam began. constance folded up the map and stuffed it back into her pocket as edwin glanced back at her. "hey yourself," she retorted lightheartedly. "you're the one who doesn't need any distractions. we're goners if you drop that lantern." she stopped on the step below edwin's, their eyes flickering up to observe his illuminated features. "exactly. i think mikey and danny are capable enough. i mean, we don't got much choice, do we? i have no doubt in mind that mikey and danny can put their heads together and come up with some distracting clown skit but these scavengers murdered other rebels just to kidnap zero. they've probably killed others before so i wouldn't be surprised if they're all armed to the teeth. it's gonna be risky for sure." she smiled at his joke. "sneak off without them? are you kidding? who's gonna shriek out like a rooster at the first sign of trouble so the rest of us can grab our weapons in time?" she jested, referring to danny's habit of immediately lunging into either fight or flight mode at the first inkling of danger. "in all seriousness, we do need to try and arrange for some backup in case things go south with danny and mikey. i think the two of them alone can handle the distractions but they'll need people to cover them when things go south. we have no idea how the scavengers will react when the military bot starts firing on them and i don't want danny and mikey caught in the crossfire of everyone shooting at each other. anyway, i guess we can discuss more of that in a bit. we've been doing this type of stuff for years now, yeah? we can pull it off if we all put our heads together and stick to our guns. figuratively and literally."
indentit did not take long for them to drag danny down into the basement. they found the old man finishing up his duties at the makeshift outpost stables where it appeared he had just finished feeding and watering their horses. he had already taken care of the group's pets by the time constance and edwin left the basement, and was just finishing up the task of storing away the stable equipment when they arrived. at first, danny was oblivious to their true purpose in fetching him, and appeared to be in quite high spirits over the prospect of having dinner. "don't think i've forgotten how you two sacrificed me to the wolves out there!" danny reminded them as they descended the basement's rotten staircase once more. "you two are sad, sad people. those sand-cats and bulbdogs are fiends! absolute terrors! i know you two don't believe me but there's actual scientific evidence that states those animals are capable of attacking at any given notice! i mean, look at them! bulbdogs look like bulging angler fishes for christ's sake! and sand-cats... don't even get me started on them. you know why they can sense incoming weather changes? because they can sense our fear! hear me out, okay? it's not even that far-fetched! they're continuously evolving, i swear! how do we even know they're not natural predators? i'll tell you why! because they're hiding i-hey, what gives?"
indentthey found mikey and karelsa standing in the designated spot. well, mikey was leaning against the brick pillar more than anything else but constance felt a wave of hidden relief at the sight of him. she was glad that karelsa managed to wrangle the man back into existence. he was probably passed out on a cot dreaming of some other bizarre and fanciful universe when the girl found him. in classic mikey fashion, he was dressed in a large coat, old trousers and torn beanie to fight off the basement's lingering chill. the old man scowled as the three rebels approached. "of course ya'll went to go fetch danny. now what the hell is with the whole james bond secret council stint ya'll have goin' on right now? can't a man get some sleep around here without being pulled into some elaborate and convoluted scheme?"
indentdanny raised an eyebrow. he looked to constance and edwin, the gears in his brain visibly turning as he put together their puzzle. "wait... wait! maven talked to you guys about a mission, didn't she? hold on, why wasn't i invited to the round table? need i remind you two that i am one of the most experienced rebels aboard this ship? i'm an idealist! doesn't that mean anything to you? i was coming up with plans to bust out imprisoned rebels before you two were born! have i ever told you guys about the time when i was nearly assigned to sneak into cidma mi-"
indent"fascinating stuff, really," constance interrupted him. "but we have more important matters to discuss right now." she fished the map of the junkyard out of her pocket and tossed it to danny. the stout man caught it midair and promptly unfolded it, eyeing it cautiously. mikey lumbered away from the pillar to stand next to him. "gentlemen, you're looking at a map of millard's salvage yard, a local landfill located only a few northwest miles of here. maven just informed us that there's an android there that's been captured by scavengers and ne-"
indent"i'm out!" mikey declared instantly, his hands shooting up into the air.
indentconstance guffawed. "jesus, what? you didn't even let me finish! where'd i lose you in that interrupted two sentence introduction?"
indent"first of all, the mention of a landfill. ain't nothing good come out of them types of places! i should know, i had a house located in a junkyard once. it got overrun by murloids. second of all, an android and scavengers?! are you two insane? you ain't know nothin' about nothin', huh?"
indentconstance should have known that mikey would pose an issue with the tasks at hand. she glanced at edwin before she folded her arms across her chest. "i know i'm going to regret this but okay, i'll bite. what should we know about that we apparently have no knowledge of at this very second?"
indent"hmph! it seems like danny and i still have much to teach you youngsters about the wasteland's thug life," mikey mused. "okay, listen here 'cause i know ya'll don't like to normally but this is bad energy. bad, i'm telling you! if these scavengers captured that robot━"
indent"━an android named zero━"
indent"━android," mikey added, throwing constance an annoyed look, "that means they're gonna try and salvage the thing for parts to sell on the black market, right? and who controls the black market? the mob! la cosa nostra! the mafiusu! he's sleeping with the fishes, i'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse, keep your friends close but your enemies closer, say hello to my little friend!" mikey mimicked the action of pulling out a gun from his belt. "get the picture? i mean, really, is it smart to interrupt those types of transactions? what if some big wise guy puts a hit out on us for disrupting his transactions? you never know, these scavengers could be working for him and cutting him a share of the profits! so yeah, we piss off some big criminal macho who ends up sending his goons to kill us all in broad daylight and young karelsa here and the rest of the kids get shipped off to the orphanages to enjoy a life of government welfare and daily slop. think about the children!"
indent"uh huh... and the animals? are they gonna whack our sand-cats and bulbdogs as well?"
indent"depends," mikey said wistfully, a hand reaching up to rub his chin. "if they look at them funny or like they got somethin' snarky to say, they'll be tossed in a shallow grave right next to us. oof! this is no time for jokes! i'm being serious right now!"
indentit took everything inside constance not to laugh at mikey's wild and irrational ravings. to be honest, the last thing on constance's mind when she was pondering their odds against the scavengers was the fact they could be related to the mob. true, the scavengers saw zero as their one way ticket to black market payday but that did not mean they were directly affiliated with an organized crime syndicate. the mob may run the black market but that did not mean that everybody who participates in it were amalgamated with their cartels. maven would have definitely mentioned that if it were true. the wasteland mafia and the revolution have an uncertain relationship at best. constance would not call it a sense of mutual respect or understanding but rather a, well, tolerance of each other's presence in a country that was growing far too crowded for either one's liking. the two groups hold a mutual cognizance over the fact they both share a common enemy but that's as far as the analogies go. the organized crime syndicates that run the country's underworld have never been afraid to eliminate those who oppose them, and more often than not the bullet that ends your life comes quick if you happen to meddle in their economic affairs. constance did not need mikey to give her a lecture about the dangers of meddling with the wasteland's most sophisticated crime syndicates. she was well aware of the dangers that came with walking on such bloodied turfs. the mob practically controlled the strip of las vegas. their casinos and resorts were practically renowned across the wasteland, so much so that even the residents of the conclave's east side would leave the protection of their patrolled streets to witness and participate in west side's turpitude and profligacy. it was like a never-ending party of the wasteland's best nightlife with neon lights, intemperance, promiscuity, loud music and degeneracy. it was easy to lose yourself in the endless sea of gambling, alcohol, chems and entertainment. after all, where else in the wasteland would you find such sinful pleasures? there was something about the strip that was alluring to a lot of wastelanders because that type of colorful wickedness and playful hedonism was unknown to them. they spend most of their lives living in a bleak, terror-infested wasteland where everyday is a struggle to survive. they don't get to enjoy the luxuries of exuberant pastimes and wild entertainment. the strip and the crime families who controlled it gave them that opportunity, and they are by no means quiet about it. there were many characters involved in the mob who were something akin to wasteland celebrities. they usually found ways to recycle their wealth and influence back into the community while also establishing themselves as humble and charismatic people by mingling with their casino patrons in their weekly public appearances. they established bonds with the locals by inquiring about their families and personal well-beings, by giving them cash and caps and other means to help them along, by settling neighborly disputes and keeping the peace in the neighborhood. their violence was directed at their own organized crime communities, not anyone else’s, so it was easy to romanticize the thin veils of illusion that makes them seem like protectors of the people. it was nothing but a ploy to them, a scheme to gain the trust and respect of the wasteland populace so that the federal government cannot use the average wasteland inhabitant against them. constance was only vaguely knowledgeable about the mob's history before the great war but as far as she knew, their pre-war counterparts did not meddle with the federal government and took great care to avoid enacting violence on law enforcement officials. the same could not be said for the ones who control the underworld nowadays. they have lived for so many decades unfettered and unbothered by the law that their criminal enterprises have grown to an astounding size. they were amongst some of the wealthiest wastelanders in the country and nobody but the bandit hoards that stalk the waste could match their firepower, manpower or authority. that changed when the conclave came into power. the federal government wanted to crush their criminal empire but it was not easy uprooting a rats nest when the rats begin to bite back. the wasteland's modern day mobsters are not afraid of the conclave, and it has become abundantly clear that they had no qualms unleashing their own acts of violence against the federal government.
indentconstance could not keep the smile off her face. "look, i promise this has nothing to do with crime syndicates. if i'm wrong, i'll let you have bragging rights for eternity in the afterlife. deal?"
indent"deal," mikey said smugly. he looked to danny, who has so far remained ominously quiet with a pensive look on his face as he studied the junkyard map. that's never a good sign. "so what's the deal with this junkyard?"
indent"oh, i'm so glad you asked." constance took the map from danny before turning to the brick pillar next to them. there was a lantern hanging by an old rusty hook from the pillar. constance removed the lantern and set it on the ground before sticking the top of the map through the hook so it was on display for her companions to see. "alright, this is what i'm thinking and feel free to add in your own thoughts or tell me if i'm saying something dumb. okay! let's rewind and go back to the beginning. so, our mission here is to infiltrate this junkyard to rescue an android who calls himself zero━"
indent"why the name zero?" danny interrupted.
indentconstance scowled at him. "i have no idea. will you two stop interrupting me? like i was saying, the junkyard is currently swamped with scavengers. they're the ones who ambushed zero's transport party and killed all but one of his protectors. maven was telling us that there's too many scavengers in the junkyard to take on singlehandedly so we're gonna need a lil' bit of help." she tapped the box on the map that represented the shed. "in here lies an old military bot left behind by the conclave when they first built the junkyard. the scavengers have yet to touch the thing because they're allegedly scared of it. edwin is gonna break into that shed and recalibrate the bot to go after the scavengers." she held up her hand before mikey and danny could say anything. "wait! i'm not finished. anyway, in order for that to happen, we need someone to distract the scavengers so edwin can reach the shed in one piece. we also need a distraction so that zero can be located and removed safely from the junkyard. he probably has a few people guarding him so a distraction would be just the perfect thing in order for us to reach him. that's where you two are going to come in. we need a good, thorough distraction to capture the group's attention long enough for us to not only safely extract zero from the junkyard but so edwin can hack into the military bot without risking one of the scavengers stumbling upon him. once the military bot is reprogrammed, it'll set its sights on the scavengers, allowing edwin time to flee the shed as well as for you two to make your getaway. can i see that pen? thanks," she took the pen from danny before circling the main entrance on the junkyard's map. "okay, i'm thinking that the distraction should be at the front gates aka as far away from the shed as possible." she drew a small 'x' near the entrance. "i'm also thinking that we could have a sharpshooter hiding behind the fence line near the gates to provide you two with cover, someone quick and sharp with a gun who could provide you two cover as you flee the scene. i'm thinking that when the military bot starts wreaking havoc that you two will be the last thing on their minds but just in case they start firing, i want you two protected." she drew two small squares not far from the junkyard's entrance. "for extra measures, i'm also thinking that we could have two riders waiting in cover on the other side of the road that could pick you two and our sharpshooter up via horseback once everything goes to hell. it'll be safer to flee on horseback than on foot, especially in the rare chance one of the scavengers decides to pursue you guys instead of being distracted by the military bot. alright class, any questions so far?"
indentdanny raised his hand briefly. "me! what sort of distraction should we put on? we can't do mikey's classic 'i need help because i've been run over by a carriage' stint. i doubt the scavengers will give a damn about that. oh, oh! should we be swash-buckling pioneers who believe that there's a chest of hidden treasure in the junkyard? those fools will eat it right up, especially if we pull out the old treasure maps dated back to the pre-war era! oh! how about two wandering fortune tellers offering a discount for anyone who wants their future predicted? those scavenger dirtbags love to be told they'll be richer than oil heirs in the future. wait! picture this! two daring and suave archeologists who end up at the junkyard's door wanting to create an excavation site nearby for allosaurus bones and willing to pay the scavengers handsomely for their help! hmm... nah, too much work, especially if we have to actually set up the fake dinosaur bones before that. actually? hold that thought, i got a better one! picture this: mikey and i are two strange masked wanderers, enigmatic and mysterious who end up stumbling upon the junkyard. we claim to be transporting the coffin of an old dead prophet whose resting coffin is flowing with gems and caps and riches and the like. we say that we're transporting our prophet's body to lay at rest in an ancient tomb where he will be welcomed by his sinister gods, prophesized to bring about the new armagedd━"
indent"you know what? we're going to leave that all up to you two," constance laughed. "just try and make it somewhat believable and don't go overboard, okay?" constance turned to the map again. she made an arrow pointing east. "as for the wagon, i'm thinking that we'll leave the kids there and have them guarded by a few adults, specifically those who can get the wagon the hell up out of there and towards cherry lake when the chaos starts." she looked at the others hesitantly. she had no idea if they were going to have a negative reaction to what she had to say next. constance has been mulling it over since their talk with maven and found themselves growing increasingly resolute with their decision. if edwin was going to head in facing certain danger, constance did not want him to do it alone. "erm, i was also thinking i could be the one to try and find where they're keeping zero. i can get in and get out quickly without raising suspicions, and i think i'm pretty convincing in terms of 'hey, i need to move your butt so you can survive the night and not be turned into a bucket of bolts'. any questions? thoughts? contributions? additions? what do you guys think of the plan and positions? and don't try and convince me not to do it because i'm already gonna tell you to be quiet."

[vaermina]

ＪＡＭＩＥ ＧＵＴＨＲＩＥxxx
I.xcismalex II.xno affiliationsx III. a bandit of the strangelove gang


indentdead pine trees and tall blue spruces dotted the landscape like an army of the undead. into the cooling light of day, into the welcome frosty whispers, reach branches bare and clean, their trunks balletic willowy wands that embrace the wintry wind. their denuded forms stand starkly against the snow like charcoal outlines sketched by a passing artist. dark cracks lie in the bark like scars, yet each woody crevice only serves to make them all the more bewitching. clusters of twigs, gnarled and twisted, extend like the very hands of old man winter, ready to catch the soft falling flakes. against the dark mossy trunks the brilliant white drifts rise in soft curves and fall again to the hidden ground. copses, dells, quarries and mysterious boscages that were once mysterious mines for exploration in the leafy summer were now pathetically exposed to the biting snowdrifts of the badlands. groves and thickets of dead thorn bushes layered the ground like silent traps. there was the sharp cry of a black and white magpie amidst the trees, the tumultuous chirping of red-breasted bullfinches and yellow-breasted titmice as they took flight across the gray valley in search of burning sweet berries. the sky was of rolling clouds, a thousand grays from deep pewter to pale silver that barely allowed the setting sun to break through. the high plateaus and distant mountains that stood beyond the bleak valley rose into the sky like the teeth of a slumbering stone dragon that stood in silent vigil over the vale. life in the badlands never seems to halt, even during the worst of the winter season. there was the collective reaper of hoarfrost that stole color from the land and drained the trees and plants of their vitality, leaving nothing but blackish-green silhouettes and dry vegetation but the animals remained untouched. hunger urged even the most enervated animals out of their burrows and dens. a russet-colored fox was on the hunt, its small paws leaving light pawprints in the snow as it sought the small traces of a hare on an untouched deep wake, who also came out of its shelter in search of tree bark and roots. packs of wolves━skinny things with bony haunches protruding beneath coats of mangy fur━were already tracking down the herds of elk that had migrated from the mountains a few weeks ago to seek out the windswept hills of the brumal valley. the herds of deer dotted the snowy landscape like bits and pieces of red seaweed on a rocky beach shore, their large antlers glistening with frost as they nosed aside snowdrifts in search of potential vegetation. the screams of their bugles echoed throughout the winter woods like the calls of ancient ghosts long since forgotten. the cries of northern cardinals, bohemian waxwings and american robins followed suit. for the most part, all was tranquil. the woods almost felt as if they were depressed by the tears of the trees falling down in the form of winter leaves. the small rivers and streams that ran throughout the valley were frozen over by the cold touch of january, the waters underneath continuing to bubble along against the riverbeds of colorful, metallic rock. whatever remained of human cultivation during the pre-war days has long since been claimed by the nature of the vale. there were old hunting cabins and luxurious vacation lodges scattered throughout the valley that were now nothing more than piles of frozen ruins, their foundations and wooden walls claimed by the tendrils of time. there were a few that remained habitable but considering most of their roofs were gone and the windows blown out, it would be a poor choice of shelter with the valley's biting winds and various levels of snowfall. what little roads that could be found in the valley have long since been reclaimed by the rolling slopes of gray kentucky bluegrass, ryegrass and dead fescue. some of the roads that had been built in the mountain passes during the days before the great war were destroyed entirely by minor landslides and shifting earthfalls, leaving nothing but pockets of empty air on the side of the mountains where the roadways once zigzagged. there was nothing left in the vale but monuments of human advancement: old pitstops home to nothing but piles of detritus and brown rats, quaint abandoned diners where moldering skeletons sat in old booths staring out the broken windows, dilapidated gift shops paying homage to the old american west that have long since been ransacked during the aftermath of the nuclear war. the cars that sat in the parking lots of said establishments were also nothing more than ancient bones, their bare chasses stripped of parts by scavengers years ago and now covered in piles of wet snow. the cold winter wind whistled through the open roofs and crumbling hallways of the abandoned establishments, as if it were some lonely creature seeking company in an old graveyard.
indentthe waning sunlight reflected off the surface of the frozen stream. jamie could see the layers of murky limestone and layered shale beneath the ice. it was a small creek, one of many that ran down the valley's winding slopes and hummocks to empty into lake guaikinima a few miles south. the water looked almost crystal clear from where it bubbled beneath the ice. bushels of purple catmint and bright red winterberries lined the banks of the creek. there were several snow-covered spruces protruding from the riverbank that looked suspiciously like smart, magnificently dressed-up ladies gathering for a winter ball. jamie took a boot to the ice for several minutes until a chunk of the verglas broke off, revealing the rushing water underneath. the creek babbled and gurgled like an old man as it traveled along the bed, bubbling over rocks and twisted branches as it went. jamie urged his blue roan to step onto the bank. a thin layer of frost had formed over her sable and ash-colored coat. the snow drifts were not kind to her today. he could tell that it was a challenge for her to try and wade through the thick inches of snow, especially in areas where the snow had yet to melt from the noonday sun earlier. the mare took a few tentative steps closer to the water before lowering her head to drink, a few small puffs of white mist filtering out from her flaring nostrils. jamie gave her a few pats on the flank, his hands moving to scrape away the frost that had settled onto her coat. "you're alright. that's a good girl," he told her reassuringly before moving to bend down next to her. jamie hesitantly dipped his hands into the cold waters of the creek before splashing some onto his face. he had to bite back a hiss when the frigid water made contact with his cut lip. still, it was nothing compared to the throbs of discomfort that ran down the right half of his torso every so often. jamie could practically feel the heat building beneath his thick double breasted duffle coat, and he doubted that the coat itself was responsible for most of his malaise. jamie wiped his hands against his coat before he shrugged it off. the wintry air was quick to attack his exposed form with the added layer of fur and leather now gone but jamie could hardly bring himself to care. his mare blueheart looked up from the stream to watch him curiously. with his knees sinking into the damp snow of the riverbank, jamie took in a deep breath and hesitantly pulled down the collar of his shirt. there was a wound right along his collarbone that stretched down vertically into his chest. he was cut by the dagger of a volkihar cultist a little over two weeks ago when he and several of his fellow gang members stumbled upon one of their shrines outside the vale. the cut itself did not require stitches - just a bit of poultice and gauze to keep it from getting infected as it healed. the cut itself had been improving at a salubrious speed until cormag guthrie decided to shove his fingers inside jamie's wound like a hunter trying to gut his kill in order remove its internal organs for dressing. cormag has always held a proclivity towards unfair advantages and despite whatever tumultuous ineptitude he liked to play into, he certainly knew how to level an arbitrary encounter. he always found a way to twist their fights into his favor, and that usually involved some sort of grotesque wound-meddling on jamie's account. it was hardly a difficult task considering jamie was always sporting at-least one type of lesion from his many encounters out in the wasteland, and his father has long since given up on the hope of besting his eldest son in fair combat. it was easier to blind jamie by using his own lacerations against him so his father could get in a good punch or two before jamie managed to clamor back to his senses. in some ways, jamie has grown used to it. his father was particularly fiendish when intoxicated, and he had a strange love for picking fights when under the courageous influence of alcohol. he saw flaws, shortcomings and imperfections with practically everyone when he managed to fall headfirst into his bottles. he said things and did things he would never even dream of doing in normal circumstances, and most of said feats involved challenging jamie to verbal and physical brawls where he was already mapping out weaknesses in his head to utilize against the younger man. his bouts of anger were usually predictable - give him a couple bottles of liquor, a degenerate town and a few nights to blow off steam - and he was ready to roll back into the strangelove camp carrying nothing but anger-fueled complaints and fulminations. he always liked to target jamie based on his own paranoic assumptions and of course, jamie always veered towards entertaining his impious antics based on the fact it gave him an excuse to try and hurt his father back. he liked to watch the older man humiliate himself in front of their fellow gang members and his father knew that jamie enjoyed witnessing his opprobriums because he always responded by relying on jamie's physical afflictions to cripple him in the proceeding scuffles. it was his way of returning that ignominious slice of pie, his way of making jamie feel a sense of dolor for the alleged crimes he committed against him in their precarious father-and-son relationship. he managed to get in a good punch or two on jamie that resulted in a cut lip and nasty bruise on the right side of his face, spanning from his nose, jawline and cheekbone.
indent"please don't tell me you're about to either a. take a bath in that creek or b. drown yourself," a heedful voice spoke behind jamie. "or c. some third more sinister thing that only jamie guthrie could think of."
indenthe looked over his shoulder to see kaolis approaching him on foot, his hand gripped tightly on his mare tallulah's lead rope. her spotted gray snowcap coat was speckled with rime and dry blood from the dead buck stretched across her wide haunches. the buck was a skinny creature with grungy brown fur, missing antlers and gangly limbs. jamie eyed the deer reproachfully as kaolis urged tallulah to a stop beside blueheart. "actually, i wasn't thinking of doing either one of those things but i might have to change my mind and drown myself if that's all you've managed to catch today. is it that bad?"
indentkaolis sighed. he tied the end of tallulah's lead to the trunk of a snowy spruce tree. "well, you might as well start wading into the creek and hope you find a current strong enough to take you because this guy is all i managed to find further north of the valley." he gave the dead deer a half-hearted pat. a thin layer of snow had already formed on top of it. "our snares caught a couple of snowshoe hares and an eastern cottontail on the opposite side of the lake. they're not anything to write home about, either. one of the damn things is so tiny i doubt it'll be useful for anything but stew. in other words, mister pierson might kill us tonight for not bringing back anything viable after we told him we would. how did you make out?"
indent"screw mister pierson. we can just eat him instead, he's the fattest out of all of us. i mean, you don't see his fat ass out here trekking through the snow and hunting down all these animals, now do you?" jamie was silent for a moment before he picked up a small pebble and threw it against the ice. "but yeah, i didn't have much luck either. one of our snares caught a groundhog and a wild turkey but i didn't see any deer. you think somethin' scared most of 'em off? this is the most empty the woods around here have been since we moved in a couple of months ago. i know there's been herds of elk in the area but it's not like we can catch one of those guys without upsetting the entire herd. and i know there's deer and other animals in the area but it's like they vanish as soon as we come strolling into the woods."
indent"i dunno. could be," kaolis responded uncertainly. similar to jamie, kaolis was dressed for the cold. he wore a pearly white shirt with a silver waistcoat, a frost-tipped black bowler hat and umber trousers with old winter boots. his outfit was modified by a marmalade and gray checkered poncho and thick black gloves. "we're not the only ones living out here. there could be plenty of predators in the vale trying to hunt their own food and chasing out all the prey. there's some nasty animals this far north like lycans, wild direwolves, wendigos, drakes-"
indent"you're sure makin' this valley more desirable by the minute, you know that? i love knowing i could be sliced into thin pieces of swiss cheese by animals created in the same universe as the leviathan."
indentkaolis laughed. "i'm surprised you even know what a leviathan is." he motioned his hand towards jamie. "seriously though, what are you doing over there? you're going to catch a cold."
indent"you're turning into a real fine mother mary, you know that?" jamie snorted at the older man's concern. "it's nothing. i'm fine." he looked over his shoulder again when he heard kaolis's boots crunching the snow beneath. he eyed the other man suspiciously. "what are you doing? don't come over here. i see that look on your face."
indent"try as you may to hide it, i can tell you've been in pain all day. you were about ready to scratch your own throat out when we set off riding earlier this morning. i saw what cormag did the other night. i thought a damn wild hog got into camp until i realized it was just your father squealing from astrid putting him into a headlock. does he always do that? play dirty, i mean? i've noticed he always tries to find a cheap way to knock people out of the ring. i don't bother talking to him if i can help it."
indentjamie couldn't help but laugh at that. "you know what? i think that's the smartest thing you've said all day. you shouldn't talk to him. ever. at all, if you can help it." he shrugged. "anyway, yeah, that's a classic cormag move. he's like a vicious little spider monkey when he's had too much to drink. don't get me wrong, he's an incompetent fool for the most part but when he's all ramped up on rotgut booze from some shady wasteland bar? he turns into a right miyamoto mushashi but just, y'know, less badass... and less likely to write a philosophical book like the book of five rings. heh. the book of five liquor shots, maybe. honestly? i don't even care anymore about all of that. there are other people in this gang like mac, edvard and abe who are much more reliable. cormag would sooner turn himself in just to try and claim whatever bounty money is being offered for his arrest. hell, he'd turn me in if he could get a bottle of rum and ten caps out of it." jamie has grown accustomed to his father's bellicose and pugnacious behavior. that's the type of person he was, the type of person he's always presented himself to be. truthfully, he was once much more capable and conscientious when it came to his contributions towards the gang's welfare. he used to never be so devil-may-care when it came to quotas but he's always presented himself as a faithless and tenuous father figure at best. he was unreliable, distant and somewhat pernicious in his teachings of masculinity and family values. he has never been a perspicacious and judicious individual, not when compared to older figures such as edvard strangelove and abbot alton. the two men have never disappointed jamie in the same ways his own father did. they were politic, astute, expedient and charming in the way they carried themselves. they were skilled communicators, individuals who are both verbally eloquent but able to communicate to their followers on a deep, emotional level. edvard strangelove utilized the concept of a powerful oratory, an engaging personality, and unwavering commitment to positive change in order to push forward common goals, initiative, boldness and his ideals on moral compasses and adherence. that was just who edvard was; he was a utopian who yearned for a fair, attractive society where blood purity, economic value and social standing mean absolutely nothing when it comes to determining a man's self-worth. he was passionate about his views of the world and how they shouldn't allow a group of domineering and despotic grandiloquents tell them what they can and cannot do out in the wasteland. abbot was much the same but often acted as a balancing force against edvard's more passionate paradigms. abbot was public-spirited and well intentioned, and almost downright princely when it came to his preferences of wits and diplomacy over violence and bloodshed. he was not portentous by any means but possessed a stately mind of equilibrium that managed to keep edvard's more ardent impulses at bay. the two men have always been characters of great support and learning throughout jamie's life. abbot was the one who taught him to read as a child. he remembered sitting next to the older man and tracing his finger along the dusty pages of old books such as the adventures of huckleberry finn, wuthering heights, king lear, crime and punishment, the scarlet letter, hamlet, macbeth, the age of innocence and frankenstein. jamie never cared much for ancient titles written by the greek poets and tragedians homer, euripides and sophocles but abbot always tried his best to make the darker stories such as lord of the flies and the crucible more interesting for his young pupils. edvard taught him all about philosophies and doctrines growing up with his favorite focusing on the social contract, a theory that originates from jean-jacques rousseau that individuals have consented, either explicitly or tacitly, to surrender some of their freedoms and submit to the authority (of the ruler, or to the decision of a majority) in exchange for protection of their remaining rights or maintenance of the social order. edvard liked to claim that justice and law are rooted in mutual agreement and advantage, and in the of political order and law, everyone would have unlimited natural freedoms, including the "right to all things." edvard's favorite part was his focus on central assertion, a social contract theory that law and political order are not natural, but human creations intended to cement a sense of order, justice and couth amongst society and that it was within human right to rebel against the elites if they were not doing their jobs. it never made much sense to a young jamie but as the years went on he began to pick out bits and pieces of edvard's tutelage that stuck out to him the most. the older man's tenets were so intricately woven and so passionately explained and nurtured that it almost seemed like the concepts of romantic adventure, chivalry and fair valor in abbot's books were possible in a world that has already proven itself to be so cold and vile. edvard was keenly intelligent and inventive on how he wanted to change the world, and jamie has grown up listening to the man frequently tell him about his ideas on a new society and how he was eager for jamie and the others to help him achieve that.
indenthow could jamie's father possibly compete with that? apart from providing jamie with an education, edvard and abbot have always been stable figures in his life, involved in one way or another with parts of his upbringing. there were times where the two men would take him out riding on their horses and show him the locals towns near wherever camp they were currently set up at; they usually taught him how to profile unsuspecting wastelanders who appeared ripe for the picking or which stores, shop booths and trading caravans would be easiest to target based on their security, inventory and economic connections. hell, jamie could even recall a time when he went with edvard, abbot and his uncle mac oliver on a fishing trip that consisted of his uncle having to paddle them (and complaining while doing so), edvard singing some old tunes that sounded like a bunch of nonsense to young jamie and abbot telling them needless details about freshwater fish. the trip almost ended in disaster when his uncle nearly foundered the small vessel by distributing his weight unevenly on its rear. jamie remembered edvard yelling at mac for his stupidity while his uncle defended himself by claiming it was edvard's fault for purchasing a lame fishing boat to begin with. all the while, abbot was roaring in laughter and telling edvard he better hope his philosophical laments speak a life preserver into existence.
indent"yeah, well, i'd sooner believe we're about to suffer another nuclear war than believe cormag is capable of writing anything comprehensible," kaolis joked lightheartedly. he bent down next to jamie. "here, let me take a look at that cut." the older man's insistence sounded so genuine that jamie, albeit reluctantly, did not resist his offer of assistance. he was wearing a pale red button up flannel that, when unfastened from the collar down, allowed kaolis to look at his bandages without jamie having to suffer a menacing chill from the wintry breeze. he could not help but wince when he felt kaolis begin poking at his bandages. jamie immediately looked away, his gaze locking on the distant tree line where the snow drifts sat in silence like huge white beasts. he hissed as soon as he felt the bandage being pulled from his skin. "sorry," kaolis apologized. the older man was silent for a few moments before he spoke again. "ah, yep, it looks like the cut is irritated. i can't tell if it's infected or not but it's probably well on its way to being so if it's not already. that bruise on your cheek looks somewhat better, though. i don't have any poultices on me right now or else i'd give you something myself to help you out."
indent"what poultices?"
indentkaolis gently pressed his bandages back in place before scrambling to his feet again. jamie buttoned his shirt before slipping on his coat and following suit. "just some concoctions i learned back on the reservation. my mother used to make a paste for inflammation and abrasions. it has stuff like turmeric powder, grated ginger, coconut oil, raw onion... you know, ingredients you can find at the market or in a garden."
indent"why does that actually sound like it'd taste good?"
indent"just because it has the words ginger and coconut in the ingredient list doesn't mean anything," kaolis snorted. he trudged over to where tallulah was hitched, his hands moving to secure the ropes that bound the dead deer to his horse. to many of their fellow gang members, kaolis was a quiet and withdrawn person who preferred to spend his waking hours out and about with nature. he was self-contained in the way he carried himself, formal to an almost painful degree with those he had yet to establish a bond with. he was by no means inhospitable or dispassionate but it would be easy to characterize him as such if you did not know him. he was an introvert who did not regularly seek out the company of others but that did not mean he was disdainful towards interaction. compared to some of the people who rode in the strangelove gang, kaolis was certainly a pragmatic and equable person who was not one hundred percent zealous on violent behavior. in some ways, he was almost considerate when it came to the way he treated others but he was by no means a push-over. he has shown time and time again that he will not hesitate to defend himself from the taunting of others. the older man has only been apart of the strangelove gang for under two years now but he has already proven himself to be quite the staple in terms of loyalty, productiveness and devotion. he was rarely found lounging around in camp slacking on his duties. he preferred busyness over staleness and usually devoted his time towards hunting. the strangelove gang could easily spend their caps purchasing venison, vegetables, fruit, herbs and sweets in the local markets but it was far more convenient for them to hunt and gather their own food supply. kaolis helped advance the gang's victual knowledge through the information he learned from his own culture growing up on the sioux reservations. he grew up in the oglala, one of the seven subtribes of the lakota people who, along with the dakota, make up the očhéthi sakówiŋ and main subcultures of the sioux people. he spent a majority of his youth on the pine ridge indian reservation, an ancient indigenous homeland for the lakota that was a part of the mixed grass prairie, an ecological transition zone between the short-grass and tall-grass prairies of the badlands. the sioux were a warlike people who did not permit the federal government or ordinary citizens sovereignty over their traditional hunting grounds and while they often traded with other tribes in terms of meat and animal pelts, they were largely unfriendly towards outsiders. they did not welcome wasteland travelers or settlers into their mist and they were downright violent towards the conclave and the bandit gangs and cults that roamed the badlands. historically, the sioux were a warlike people who thrived in hunting and battle, and their centuries-old techniques have made them formidable opponents on not only the battlefield but when it came to ensuring the survival of their own people. they utilized items such as bone whistles and eagle horns to communicate with one another before initiating open attacks and they often fought in formations and flocks to encircle and trap their enemies in smaller numbers. they had other systems in place like creating diversions with stuffed dummies wrapped in buckskin or employing young warriors to act as adolescent kamikazes on horseback, who essentially functioned as a stealth corps of shock troop. there was a reason why even the most fiercest of outlaws tried to veer from entering sioux territory as said reservations were often teeming with thousands of dangerous warriors. edvard himself has always been fascinated by the indigenous groups scattered throughout the wasteland - albeit rightfully wary on the prospect of provoking some of the more combative tribes - and he welcomed kaolis into their group with open arms. in return, kaolis has helped strengthen the gang's hunting techniques by teaching them the art of camouflaging in animal skins, ambushing individual animals at water holes, driving animals into makeshift corrals and stampeding larger game such as bison and elk over high bluffs for an easy kill. kaolis has relayed a number of interesting stories since joining the gang, although he was somewhat discrete when it came to his own family and childhood. he's told jamie tales about the reservation he grew up on and the people who helped create lasting impacts throughout his youth as well as key aspects of his culture and traditions growing up. he has introduced the concept of porcupine quillwork to the gang, a practice where indigenous artists soften and dye stiff porcupine quills and weave them onto leather or birchbark for religious and ceremonial items. he also knew how to carve beads from natural minerals, and could frequently be found undergoing said practices whenever one of his fellow gang members wanted their horse saddles or weapon holsters bejeweled. in many ways, acts of tedious service and craftsmanship were one of the ways kaolis showed his affection towards others as he was not the type of person who was easy to read emotionally. the only reason he was so easygoing and lighthearted around jamie was because of their friendship.
indent"ahoy gentlemen!" the call of another man's voice from across the creek caught their attention. jamie looked up to see a large black stallion emerge from the tree line. the horse stood out like a sore thumb amongst the slopes of white and gray. the rider approached them from the opposite side of the creek before urging the hefty stallion across the thin ice with little heed towards the sheet of frozen water cracking beneath the beast's hooves. abbot coaxed the horse to a stop before he began the laborious process of dismounting. the old man wore a dark green coat all buttoned up with a red and black striped scarf loosely hanging around his neck. the ridiculously oversized cattleman hat on top of his head looked like it almost had a personality of its own."ack! damn this cold! it bites right down to the bone. how did you boys get along out there?"
indentjamie glanced at kaolis before shrugging. "eh, we did alright. well, i did alright. some of our snares caught small game like a groundhog and a wild turkey. jim corbett over there managed to nick himself a buck. and some hares. don't forget about the hares." jamie was not quite used to the feeling of being bested by another - especially in the art of hunting - but he could appreciate kaolis's sharp skills in the field.
indent"well, none of us boy scouts can quite live up to kaolis's potential. not even you, my beloved money-maker," abbot teased jamie before throwing an approving glance kaolis's way. "either way, i'm proud of you boys. it's not easy finding game this time of year, let alone trappin' and shootin' the damn animals." he slipped his cattleman hat off his head to shake the snow off, his white hair almost as ivory as the frost around them. "i made out like a bandit on my end today. no pun intended, of course but i think i caught wind of basia today! she's been by the silver swan pass recently, a few miles west of the camp. can you believe it? i thought the old broad skipped town months ago! i mean, i would if i were her. there's hardly anything to eat in this valley!"
indentkaolis leaned against talluah's flank. "basia? is she a friend of yours?"
indent"a friend? no, no! she's not even human!" abbot roared in laughter. "basia's an old shrieker that's been roaming the border for years now. the old girl's probably as ancient as i am! now i've never been one to marvel over nature like a flower child loon but she's just somethin' else alright. i first noticed her a few years ago when we were moving camps once. it's been, what, eight years now? she's a big beast, probably one of the largest shriekers i've ever seen. i believe she was a polar bear once. they were located up in alaska before the war but they've probably migrated further south and into mainland america due to a lack of food and insufficient climate near the poles. i've been trying to keep tabs on her but she's an elusive thing. unique, too, if i do say so myself. shriekers, like any other predator, don't live very long out here. the fact she's been around for a decade in a region that's dominated by so many other predators is a marvel in and of itself! she's intelligent enough to keep clear of human civilization, and smart enough to follow the herds migration patterns. i reckon that's why she's in the valley right now. fascinating, isn't it?"
indent"hah! he loves that bear. abe's been without a woman for so long he'd probably go after the bear if it could talk. he's damn near blind as it is; just patch up its deformities, put on a lil' bit of lipstick and she'd be good to go. there's nothing wrong with liking a dominant woman who has the capacity to eat you alive. literally, in your case." jamie cheekily grinned at abbot's glare. "what? i'm just sayin'."
indent"well, say less," abbot scowled. "you're a little stinker, you know that? only the lord knows the rest of you boys have peculiar pastimes. my habit of bear-watching is probably nothin' compared to all that." he looked up at the darkening sky. "anyway, we should probably head back to camp. it's getting dark out and as much as i love basia, i'd hate to be stuck out here in the dark when she's roaming about. jamie my boy! pony up ole blueheart's halter there to tallulah. i need you to ride on blackjack with me. i think i'm suffering from a case of snow blindness today. i nearly trotted myself and poor blackjack here off a rocky cleft earlier this afternoon."
indent"snow blindness? is that what you youngins are callin' it nowadays?"
indent"be very careful with what you say next."
indentjamie laughed before he grabbed a hold of blueheart's lead, gently urging the mare away from the creek and over to tallulah. he gathered the horse’s tail into a smooth bundle as kaolis moved to mount tallulah before laying the halter rope to tallulah across her tail, just below the end of the tailbone. jamie brought up the end of the horse’s tail, laying it over the halter rope and making a half-hitch before taking halter rope tail forward and tying it around the base of blueheart's neck with a bowline. he made sure that the groundhog and wild turkey that were hanging from the mare's saddle were tied properly before he approached abbot and blackjack. the stallion flattened his ears at jamie's approach. "he's got a nasty look in his eye," he commented warily. "will he buck?"
indent"not if i'm on him," abbot said with a grin. "he's a temperamental creature, to be sure." the older man's comment did nothing to reassure jamie. he eyed the large horse suspiciously before he mounted up, a process that was surprisingly nonviolent considering blackjack's displeasure of strangers. the horse was far larger than his own mount, and a unique creature in its grumpy temperament considering shires are usually easygoing and eager to please. he looked down at abbot. "well? you gettin' on or do you need help?"
indent"me? abbot alton, a scheming and revolutionary outlaw with a capacity of knowledge and expertise beyond your wildest dreams, needing help in mounting his own horse?" he remained silent for a moment as he eyed blackjack before he looked at jamie. "well? are you gonna help an old man out or what?"
indentthe setting gray sun was beginning to nestle its way below the distant mountains by the time the three men set out from the creek. the trees have cried their last golden tears over the passing of the warmer seasons for they stood bare and vulnerable now like sylvan wights of a more pleasant and balmy era. the woods were so gloomy from the wintry twilight that it was almost impossible to see what lay beyond the thick tree line. the trees boasted nothing but shadows amidst their congregations, and their bare branches shook and rattled in the wind like the groans of tired guardians. the riders cast long shadows against the watery snow drifts, an endless sea of white and porcelain amongst dead woods and dry vegetation. abbot begun to lure kaolis into a passionate conversation involving his theories on basia as the three men decided to follow the creek south, where it twisted and turned its way through slopes and hills before emptying into a large frozen lake that bordered their camp. several months ago, the strangelove gang claimed residency over an old pre-war summer camp located deep within the frosty vale. they've never had a permeant home, not really - their tendency to move along the border was a purely strategic tactic, one that helped them keep a level head in avoiding the encroaching consequences of the law. edvard never liked staying in one place for too long, either for the idea of strangers stumbling upon their living space or purposely seeking them out was a discomforting notion for him. jamie found the summer camp to be one of their better encampments. most of the cabins were in poor condition when they first stumbled upon the place but they were able to patch them up to a rather decent state with the overwhelming surplus of local lumber. some of the cabins had collapsed roofs, cracked walls, broken windows, rotting porches and holes in the floor that were all but attentively patched by some of the gang members. there were over a dozen cabins split up between blood relatives, lovers, close friends and ranks within the gang's hierarchy as well as a semi-functional cafeteria and medical clinic. they transformed some old storage sheds into a stable and pen for their horses. the camp was quite a distance away from civilization but the isolation provided them with plenty of cover from undesirable attention and ample resources to live off the land. the valley provided an adequate amount of capital for the gang to rely on, ranging from the local lumber and natural stone quarries to the availability of animal sustenance and water sources. there were some members in the gang (particularly cormag, what with his dependence on debauchery and the like) who did not care much for the long rides to the local wastelander towns but jamie did not care much about that. there were plenty of mountain passes and old highways in the valley that were still utilized by the conclave and wastelanders for travel, and that meant easy pickings for the gang whenever edvard was juggling ideas involving more elaborate schemes. true, winter was making it more difficult for the gang to sustain themselves without constant interaction with the outside world but it could not be helped. jamie stiffened when he felt abbot nudge him in the back. "how's our young blainey doing, by the way? truth be told, i worry about that boy."
indent"he's... alright. i don't know. he's doing a little bit better, i suppose. he likes to be around our uncle and kat more than he does astrid and i right now."
indentabbot swayed in the saddle behind jamie, the constant rocking of the stallion underneath as the creature struggled to keep its footing on the snowy path almost nauseous at this point. kaolis rode behind them with blueheart following diligently behind. "ah, i see. i can imagine he's still jarred by what happened. either way, it was a necessary evil. was it brutal? yes? was it extreme? also yes but what's not to say those scavengers haven't done worse to other people? what's not to say they wouldn't have done worse if they lived? people who are willing to hurt defenseless children don't deserve good graces from the rest of us. blainey will come around, you just gotta give the boy some time. he's not as willful as you were at his age." jamie picked at blackjack's course mane. "mhm," jamie agreed absentmindedly, his eyes flickering to the shimmering surface of the lake as they approached the camp. jamie could hardly find the vitality anymore to reflect on blainey's incident. it has grown to be quite infamous within their household if only because of the way it so violently occurred and because of the way blainey has begun to internalize his own perturbation afterwards.
indenttruth be told, jamie's recollection of the incident has only begun to blur since the day it happened. he could not recall much of what happened before, during and after the attack. he remembered dismounting his direwolf skoll and pulling his dagger out from its sheath, and he remembered the sound of screaming along with it. was it coming from blainey or one of the scavengers? was it coming from astrid? he could not quite put a face to the sound. he could almost feel the warm splatters of blood on his face and hands again; he remembered the way it dripped down his neck and onto his shirt and arms as if he were a buck being drained of its inner lifeblood. there was the taste of metal and salt on his tongue, too but where did that come from? did he bite his tongue during the incident? was his brain playing tricks on him? he could not tell, and the details only continued to grow foggier as the weeks went on. there was no mollifying the situation. nobody in the gang denied the fact that the men who attacked his brother suffered horrible deaths, endings that no sane person would wish on anybody. jamie and his sister did not have to utter a single word to each other when they stumbled upon blainey and his attackers by the stream. they did not even have to look at each other to understand what the other one was about to do. jamie fell victim to his own state of disassociated wrath, a deep sense of pure visceral rage that was almost borderline primitive in nature. it was almost like his brain dropped some sort of functionality that it felt wasn't necessary at the time such as his self-restraint, like it were trying to protect him from realizing the gravity of his own violent actions. it separated jamie from himself, and washed the world around him in a burning red that struck like fire. whatever the case may be, jamie could not remember plunging the dagger nor could he recall the blade breaking off at its hilt but he must have been the one who killed the scavenger because where else would the blood come from? he remembered it being everywhere. it was dripping down his brow bone and into his eyes, it was staining his teeth like black cherries, it was embedded beneath his finger nails and unwilling to be washed out. did skoll feel the same whenever he made a kill? was the direwolf aware of his own brutality, the way he sparked a sense of dread in the hearts of his victims? does a monster know when its a monster or does it cease to hold any ounce of humanity when it refuses to even acknowledge the severity of its own actions? direwolves may be far more intelligent than most animals but that's what they are: animals. jamie could not find it within himself to show remorse over what he has done. he would do it again if he must. hell, he'd do a lot worse in far less dire circumstances. the approval of some of his fellow gang members like abbot only further strengthened his resolve in the matter. jamie did what he had to do, and he did not regret the way he carried it out. the scavengers had no qualms taking advantage of blainey's age and size for their own selfish means so what's not to say they wouldn't have done the same to some other kid if they had been allowed to walk away? jamie committed a necessary evil. he did what he had to do, and he did not much like thinking otherwise because then he'd have to confront his very real tendencies of relying on pure, instinctive emotion in situations of high stress. he has always been a person who followed his heart over that of his head and it tended to cause more trouble than it was worth. after the incident, he remembered some of his comrades believing he was gravely injured due to the amount of red that covered him but when it became clear that the blood did not belong to jamie, their reactions were quick to shift to a more troubled tune. blainey was the one who got the short end of the stick in terms of both physical and mental wounds. his brother had yet to recover from the incident. he was once a curious and mild boy, kindly towards those he was affectionate of and venturesome in terms of spirit. he has always been far more quiet when compared to his siblings but his silence has only grown tremendously since the attack by the stream. nowadays, blainey was curt, skittish, hostile and constantly agitated. the boy was deeply unsettled and it was obvious by the way he carried himself and interacted with other people. he has grown unnerved in jamie's presence, and it did not take much for the older man to provoke him. jamie does not even try to ruffle his feathers but one wrong move - no matter how harmless it may appear - was enough to make blainey infuriated. he did not want jamie to touch him and whenever jamie tried to lightly chide him for his disrespectful comments towards some of the gang's older members, blainey would grow unnecessarily aggressive and ask if jamie was going to stab him over it. the boy's anger and fear were not natural, not even by the standards of a child growing up amongst outlaws. jamie had no idea how to help him for there was nothing he could do to take back what he has done. he was not sorry that he did it. he was not sorry that he killed that scavenger, no matter how brutal his methods were. he did what any sane person would do in that situation, what any brother would do to protect their siblings. she wouldn't agree with it, though. no, his mother would be horrified over his actions. she'd probably be just as terrified as blainey. she gave her own life and spilled her own blood so that her child may live, and jamie was only repaying her sacrifice by spilling the blood of others in order to keep her children safe from harm. it was jamie and god's version of an eye for an eye. his mother, a woman so delicate and kind in nature, dying in a pool of her own blood while jamie practically bathed in the blood of others to keep her memory alive through the final sacrifice she made as a loving mother. he remembered sitting silently outside the clinic after blainey was rushed inside, still covered in splatters of merlot liquid as his uncle tried to talk to him. jamie hardly acknowledged his presence. for some reason, he almost imagined his mother was there instead, sitting next to him and watching him with cold eyes belonging only to a corpse frozen beneath the winter soil.
indentjamie parted ways from abbot and kaolis once they returned to camp. "absolute not!" kaolis scowled at him when jamie insisted on taking blueheart over to mister pierson himself. "abbot and i will handle the goods. you need to go check in at the clinic. as much as i value your friendship and company, bug off." it took everything in jamie to be a sensible adult about it as he trudged his way to the clinic. located by the cafeteria, it was considerably larger than the camp's sleeping cabins with tendrils of lazy black smoke climbing out from its crooked chimney. light poured forth from its frosted windows in a warm yellow glow. as jamie approached its sagging porch, he was surprised to find no trace of his direwolf skoll sulking about. the wolf had a tendency to linger around the clinic whenever jamie chose to leave him behind while out excursing in the wasteland. it did not surprise him that the direwolf chose to seek out the people closest to jamie like kat or his siblings whenever he was away. skoll was a right menace to those who worked in the clinic, and has knocked down the cabin's screen door and blundered inside like a maniac a number of times before - it's probably why the clinic no longer had a screen door. he's broken over two dozen jars full of dried herbs and ointments since they made the summer camp their home, and one time nearly threw holliday across the room by biting her broom when she tried to shoo him off after his destructive rampage. skoll was now banned from entering the clinic. still, it did little to deter him from wandering around the premises or lying on the porch like a lost soul. you can't really restrict a direwolf's desires. they were going to wander wherever and whenever they wanted, and the best course of action was just limiting easy entrance points like a flimsy screen door. there were times where even that wasn't enough, and jamie could not count the amount of times he's woken up in the middle of the night to skoll scratching at the bedroom door and whining for entry. it appeared to jamie that the white wolf most likely grew bored of waiting for kat to leave the clinic. he was almost expecting to trip over the direwolf as he stepped onto the clinic's porch - it was not uncommon for the beast to blend in with the snow around him - but there were no signs of movement beneath his feet nor the sound of rustling as he opened the door.
indentjamie was immediately greeted by a blast of warm air.
indenthe nearly recoiled at the sudden change in temperature as he entered the clinic. like the rest of the camp's cabins, the clinic underwent hefty renovations when the gang moved in. it retained much of its estival charm apart from the select patch in the wall and replaced floorboard. some parts of the clinic had been refurbished entirely with old furniture and equipment tossed out to make room for medicinal supplies, jars and crates. still, it retained some of its pre-war blandishments such as old and peeling posters such as pediatrics human anatomy and tips on avoiding common colds like the flu. stickers of eroding stars, campfires, archery targets, canoes and horses were plastered all over the lobby's various pillars and walls from the children that used to attend the summer camp centuries ago. there was an old rustic antler chandelier hanging from the ceiling. they had no electricity in the camp so it was virtually useless but it still appeared to be in a rather decent shape. there was a skeleton stand for anatomy purposes in the corner that they salvaged while patching up the clinic. it was wearing a dress with a feathered hat and smears of makeup on its bald face from the kids messing around it. as jamie closed the door behind him, his attention traveled across the room where the reception desk sat opposite the clinic's entrance. he was pleased to see kat sitting between fellow healers kieran and talisa behind the desk. it appeared they were the only healers available at the moment unless the rest of them were in the infirmary. the man wiped his shoes clean of snow and dirt on the welcoming doormat. "the three of you freeloaders will be happy to know that you'll remain fed for the next few days. you're welcome by the way," jamie announced. he nearly winced at how loud his voice echoed throughout the quiet clinic.
indent"oh lord," talisa joked. "you run out of people to terrorize today?"
indent"it's not a day complete unless i come in here to torment the three strangelove stooges," jamie quipped as he approached the desk. it appeared like they were in the process of organizing their supply of medicinal roots and herbs. there were dozens - if not over a hundred - various mason jars on the shelves behind them that were full of botanical products such as lavender, ginger, chamomile, ginseng, sneezewort, rue and milk thistle. there were some plants such as batches of thyme, sage and wintry savory tied into small bundles and left to air dry from the previous snowfall. from what jamie knew of plants, there are some such as basil, lemon balm and mints that will mold if not dried in a timely manner. the weather lately did the gang no favors in terms of plant gathering; the snow and ice practically decimated anything that was not strong enough to resist its frigid bite. kaolis liked to collect herbs and plants while they were out hunting sometimes. there were moments where he'd find caraway plants to deliver to mister pierson who always utilized the seeds from said herbs for his rye bread, and other times where he'd stumble upon comfrey and tarragon that he would later deliver to the gang's medics. the older man had a keen eye for useful plants that jamie himself did not possess. he was more likely to accidentally trample a bushel of helpful herbs than stop and collect them. still, the strangelove gang relied heavily on its clinic for medical support. wounds and abrasions were a common occurrence for a group that dabbles in crime and that was not even taking monthly health check-ups and unrelated illnesses into account. edvard always stressed the importance of medical availability, and he frequently hounded the rest of them on helping keep their stocks full through herb gathering, medicine bartering and equipment scavenging. they did not have a lot of medical equipment available but kieran's travels to various medical centers out in the wasteland over the years has given them access to several appliances that they would not have been able to find elsewhere. it was vital that they had a healthy supply of needles, syringes, iv bags, thermometers and blood pressure monitors on hand as well as various pharmaceutical products for injuries and illnesses that cannot be readily healed by alternative medicine - be it purchasing from wasteland vendors and gaining access to wasteland medical facilities or raiding travelling caravans and convoys for their cargo. they had actually managed to snag several crates of beta-blockers, antibiotics, anesthetics, antiseptics, vaccines and anti-allergics from an armored conclave convoy a few months back that was travelling through a mountain pass. it was a good catch considering the government was slowly transitioning from cross-country guarded repository motorcades to other means of cache transport such as aircraft and train. the lack of available supplies meant that undertakings headed by kieran out in the wasteland were growing more and more important, albeit the man's absence from camp also meant that they lacked an extra hand in the clinic whenever there were medical emergencies. to be honest, jamie was quite surprised that kieran has never thrown a glass jar at his head before. he's known the older man for years now and given his more serious and sagacious ways, he would not be surprised if he often found himself overwhelmed by the sheer idiocy displayed by some of the gang's younger members. jamie leaned against the counter, careful not to accidentally poke the splotchy bruise on the right side of his face as he rested the side of his face against the counter's surface. "so..." he began, suddenly conscious of the way the three healers were looking at him. his attention flickered to kat. she was a welcoming sight after being out in the woods all day. "um... can you look at my bandages for me? it's been bothering me all day and kaolis suggested getting it checked out. i mean, it's nothin' serious," he added casually as if downplaying the growing discomfort he's felt all day. "you know what? it could probably wait. you guys seem busy enough as it is. it's more important to try and organize - what's this? - valerian root and goldenseal. i have no idea what they do but they seem important. you don't want to accidentally store them where they're not supposed to go. there's people out there that'll probably need that stuff very soon. you gotta think ahead, you know? you already know half of this gang is made up of dumbasses to begin with. and before one of you say somethin', don't group me into that category." he raised his head before scratching again at his bandages, something that kaolis accused him of doing earlier. jamie had a bad history concerning medical care and consistent check-ins. he despised having people poke and prod him although he did not nearly mind it as much when it was kat doing the jabbing. call it a lack of self-compassion but jamie did not like admitting when he needed help. he had a reclusive mindset towards the matter and often felt that he was either being a burden or he was going to be put on some sort of medical leave that would severely hinder the contributions he could make towards the gang. edvard had to practically force him to see talisa every so often so he could undergo cleansing treatments to lessen the effects of chem withdrawal and flush his system free of psycho and adreno. it was like jamie was his own worse enemy by creating potholes of negative biases and confusing indulgence with self-care. he had a tendency to focus on other people's feelings, needs, and problems before his own. he took care of others - often at his own expense - and such responsibility often warped into a sense of hostility towards acts of personal care through medical attention. it did not help that some of the chems he took such as psycho severely hindered his congenital sensitivity to the point where he did not notice debilitating injuries until hours after the cooldown period. he has never been exceptional at taking care of himself but it grew far worse after the death of his mother. she died in a clinic not too dissimilar from this one and no amount of herbs, medication or medical instruments could have saved her. it was almost like jamie had a fear that something similar would happen to him as well, where he would have to undergo some sort of traumatic operation from wounds sustained out in the wasteland that he would never wake up from.

[vaell]

xxxxxＫＡＴＡＲＩＮＡ ＳＶＥＮＳＳＯＮ.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa bandit of the strangelove gang.
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indentthe flame from an antiqued brass lighter cast kat's delicate features in a warm hue. frigid wintry air penetrated her fair complexion, reddening the tip of her upturned nose and dusting the curve of her cheeks in a rosy flush. kat lit the tip of the cigarette lodged between her teeth, taking a long drag before exhaling a puff of smoke. she returned the lighter to the leather holster wrapped around her waist.
indentstanding on the porch of their camp's medical clinic, kat's slender frame could be spotted leaning against the foundation of the old building. jagged edges of protruding bricks dug into her upper back as she folded her arms against her chest, lowering her cigarette. though her blue eyes were turned upward to scrutinize the darkening sky, her visage was otherwise obscured by the curled brim of a sandy cattleman hat. fleeting gusts of wind stirred the strands of dark brown hair framing her face, beginning to tousle her loose tresses. though the chilling breeze this evening stung her skin, her shoulders were shielded from the cold by a dark duster coat worn over a taupe shirtwaist and a sable vest. tufts of coyote fur lining the hem of her duster tickled the exposed skin at her neck. the open garment extended past her hips, falling short above her worn roper boots.
indenton the horizon the setting sun made the sky a vivid hue of reds and yellows, signifying the descent of day into night.
indentinnately, most humans do not associate the loss of daylight with pleasant activities. it all boils down to base instincts. as a species one of our major natural instincts is preservation, meaning we have a natural tendency to stay alive, which is easiest to do when we're capable of sizing up what we are perceiving to determine whether or not it may pose a threat. in the darkness though, humans have no security. we cannot utilize one of our most necessary senses for that primitive evolutionary instinct. if we can not see, we can not readily determine a threat and are therefore vulnerable. that very sense of defenselessness can be enough to trigger a chemical response in people similar to knowing a threat is coming toward them. in the light, people feel safer because they can see what is happening and anticipate what might unfold around them, and as a result they are less likely to be caught off guard. people biologically feel vulnerable come nighttime because feelings of anxiety, fear, and rumination begin to run amuck, the result of thousands of years of human survival hinging on the need to be highly vigilant at night. people are most comfortable during the earliest hours of the day because humans are a diurnal species. besides, without technology, fire, or electricity, human beings are essentially helpless during the nighttime, especially out in the wasteland. it's not darkness itself that is frightening, but rather what the darkness can mask. nightfall implies nocturnal predators coming to wake or the roaming of miscreants better left undisturbed. the dark leaves us vulnerable and exposed, and because humans have poor vision in the dark our other senses are forced to compensate, relying on the stimulus of sound to make sense of our surroundings. because one of our most prominent senses are suddenly dampened at night, our bodies will try and compensate by diverting brain function to other senses like hearing. hence, avoiding the dark is merely an evolutionary advantage that has allowed human existence to survive this long. apprehension toward the dark manifests itself, and is perpetuated, by human culture, too. after all, a number of societies associate darkness and nighttime with evil and death. don't think a natural fear of the dark is universal, though. some people are comforted by the prospect of danger looming in the night. in fact, kat used to consider nighttime the most sacred hour of the day. the black scriptures reject the human circadian rhythm and stress the importance of the dark and light cycles for positioning ritual, offerings, and sacrifice to best appease the draelyn prince zaohr. the cult kat was born into made her life revolve around worship. though she didn't realize it at the time, she watched her family and her friends become consumed by religious fanaticism as she grew up. she could even recall her cousin valerie frequently waking in the middle of the night to find her at zaohr's inner sanctum, where in fits of near hysteria she would divulge the so-called divine content of her dreams. her cousin declared herself an oracle practicing oneiromancy, a form of prophetic divination based entirely on the content of her dreams. while valerie was adamant that her dreams served to be predictions of the coming future, kat now had a feeling the other woman must have been using some type of oneirogen plant to help produce or enhance her dream-like states of consciousness. maybe she was ingesting a flowering plant from the aster family, similar to the calea ternifolia, or even an aromatic herb like douglas' sagewort. it would make sense, considering the bringers of salvation used to plant oneirogens for both medicinal and ceremonial purposes. a lot of plants and trees are central to the spiritual practices of the cult. alkaloid-containing roots or bark are typically used in their ceremonies to create hallucinations and stimulate near-death experiences. in fact, acolytes undertaking their initiation ceremony are expected to ingest massive doses of roots or bark hailing from the apocynaceae family. taken in high enough quantities the plant is considered to be toxic, and she knew that because the cult's obligatory rite of passage was a frequent source of adolescent fatalities. on a more regular basis, kat used to offer the root or bark to other cult members to be eaten in small doses in connection with rituals performed at night because it can induce dream-like states with vivid visions and hallucinations. valerie could have been drinking any sort of oneirogen as a tea or placing it under her head at night to induce the divinatory or lucid dreams she experienced. a lot of people take oneirogen plants to help them remember their dreams too, so it's possible they could have made her cousin's so unbelievably vivid. besides, what other logical explanation could explain valerie's deluded convictions? how could her dreams possibly be messages sent to her soul by the draelyn prince himself? from what kat learned from kieran ─ one of the strangelove gang's conclave trained doctors ─ she understood that the mere taste of oneirogen plants could lead to nausea and vomiting, or even worse, mild-to-serve allergic reactions. in particular, when an oneirogen is used chronically the plants can overstimulate the central nervous system and lead to manic episodes lasting for several days, accompanied by insomnia, irritability, delusions, and aggressive behavior. unsurprisingly, her cousin valerie exhibited most if not all of the symptoms associated with overuse of the plant. though it's possible her cousin used to mask the bitterness of the oneirogen by brewing it with osmanthus, flowers which have a compatible scent profile to most oneirogen plants, the other woman would often be so ill come the next morning she needed kat to nurse her back to health. of course, her physical ailment and bouts of sickness only fueled the cult's twisted narrative. the cult's high council claimed valerie's body was having an averse reaction to being used as a conduit between herself and the draelyn prince zaohr, and because of this they announced her cousin a vital instrument to their plans of worship. looking back, the high council practically drove her cousin down a path of pretentious sanctitude and neuroticism. the worst part is, kat used to believe whatever she was told back then and as much as she wanted to blame herself for not seeing through their lies, she honestly couldn't say she knew any better at the time. hell, she used to be a sasteshi priestess. valerie was supposed to confide in her, especially if she was being plagued with so-called visions. in the bringers of salvation, the class of diviners or seers responsible for dream interpretation often have great social influence in their ranks, just like her cousin. they typically join the ranks of the cult's high council, a rather small, enigmatic group of cultists who govern matters pertaining to the black scriptures. even her own father was once elected to the high council, being a healer-prophet himself. kat had a few different theories concerning the bringers of salvation and their quasi-justice system though. it seemed likely that ward ─ the principal leader of the gang and self-proclaimed mouthpiece for zaohr ─ alongside his closest followers only established the high council as a way to convince the lesser acolytes in their ranks that punishment and reward are doled out fairly. maybe they did settle disputes, complaints, and put accusations of heresy to rest, but something more ominous seemed to loom behind their false pretense of an impartial governing body. considering the high council can execute, torture, or persecute anyone according to their crimes by using the black scriptures as justification, it doesn't seem like a stretch to say they likely used their power to carry out their own hidden agenda. she supposed she would never truly know though, and that was the frustrating part. when it comes to her upbringing she had so many questions that would never be answered.
indentkat wasn't necessarily proud of her past or any of the things she's committed in the name of the draelyn prince zaohr, but she supposed it was all a part of who she was now. it's certainly bizarre to think the very thing that once commanded the respect of her fellow cultists was something she felt ashamed of openly admitting now. as a sasteshi priestess she used to play a pivotal role in the cults affairs, officiating sacred rituals, presiding over and leading rituals of worships, performing ritual sacrifice, and acting as a custodian of zaohr's inner sanctum, the largest existing shrine dedicated to the draelyn prince. the most common rite she used to perform was a practice referred to as vudrax in the black scriptures. during this obligatory sacrifice, kat would participate in a sacred procession to the shrine as a priestess, often presenting valuable possessions or carrying important artifacts such as zaohr's circlet of malediction. at the shrine she would then perform a libation followed by a dedication or consecration, then a sacrifice would be performed with the slaughter of a designated creature. after a search of omen, the draelyn prince zaohr would be dedicated a portion of the animal's flesh, which would be burnt at the altar, while the followers of the deity would receive the remainder. the draelyn prince's followers would then host a feast where everyone could dine in the presence of the divinity and establish communion with zaohr. kat also used to officiate private rituals for individuals, such as children who wished to be initiated in seclusion. to some extent she supposed she was consulted as one of the cult's principal religious authorities. the high council used to have a particular set of rules when it came to the venerated position she used to hold though. because her mother before her was a sasteshi priestess born to the daughter circle of the cult, she could serve for life and even gave birth to kat and her younger brother lukas. different standards applied to those born into the servant circle, the third generation of the cult branching off the founding group, the mother circle. priestesses like kat were required to indefinitely abstain from marriage or other romantic endeavors unless they wanted to face certain retribution from angering the draelyn prince zaohr. in the end that decree was just another way the cult tried to undermine her autonomy as a person. the bringers of salvation live by an absolutist cult doctrine, making every issue two-sided with no room for any nuance. what ward does or believes is good, what outsiders do or think is not. fear bound her and other zaohr followers together. the cult framed the outside world as an appalling place full of people who only sought to persecute followers in their ranks, though they also made their own internal world trepidatious, a place in which the high council might be moments away from discovering and punishing a member for not abiding by the black scriptures properly. kat grew up in an environment whereby any chance of healthy identity development was completely disrupted from the get go. she never had the opportunity to be her own person, composed of her own beliefs, behaviors, thoughts, or patterns of emotions. through the use of destructive, non-altruistic means, she was indoctrinated to have an artificial identity in the place of an authentic one. she used to believe the bloody acts of destruction and discord she participated in could help reshape the world, a task that only the enlightened could manage. having a sense of community in the bringers of salvation certainly played a major role in her own identity indoctrination. after all, kat's entire support network was involved in the cult. both her immediate and extended family were bringers of salvation who enforced commitment to the cause by using praise and shunning. just about everything concerning her life seemed normal at the time because she quite literally had nothing to compare her gruesome lifestyle to. she knew other wastelanders conducted themselves differently than they did, but only because influential members of the cult would openly abhor those who do not follow the black scriptures. they felt wastelanders either needed to either assimilate into their religion or face the appropriate penalty for refusing to submit to the draelyn prince zaohr. because the bringers of salvation follow a ruthless code to adhere to the testaments of the black scriptures, the cult has earned itself an ill reputation throughout the badlands and even parts of the dixon wasteland. wastelanders think them responsible for a number of abductions, murders, and devastations befalling different communities, and rightfully so. the gang does not intermingle with the rest of society and remain isolated in their place of worship, though when they do step foot outside of zaohr's prayer grounds, destruction and mayhem is bound to follow. after kat fled the cult she was quick to learn that other people do not take kindly to those associated with the pantheon of the draelyn princes. when she didn't know any better, she used to display her tattoos in public without understanding the inherent implication behind the markings she bore. as a result she would wonder why other people would frequently give her dirty looks in the street or avoid her entirely. the poor reception kat received from other wastelanders made her integration into broader society a complete and utter struggle. on the odd occasion she would even be met with aggressive confrontation from people who have likely been directly or indirectly wronged by the cult, though at the time those such interactions only fueled her dislike for the average wastelander. seen as a heinous, bestial woman for being associated with the bringers of salvation, the way she was treated by the wasteland population did nothing to help her move away from the beliefs the cult instilled about her. in fact, being met by hatred and disgust only made her want to go back to the very place she once ran from. it seemed as though she had no true place in this world, if not in the cult. honestly though, kat couldn't blame anyone for feeling repulsed by her presence in their neighborhood. the bringers of salvation have done horrible things, ruining families and entire communities, and oftentimes forcing people into a religion they wanted no part of. no one should be expected to welcome people openly associating themselves with any malevolent cults. kat was regularly turned down from different inns and often became the topic of quiet gossip the moment she stepped into any given establishment, and deservedly so. nowadays, she's glad people did not have much tolerance for zaohr cultists like her. though she used to take personal offense over the way other wastelanders treated her, she knew now that they were completely justified in behaving in such a manner. single-minded religious zeal shouldn't be accepted by society, and it doesn't matter what her intentions were. honestly, she was not looking to spread the word of zaohr at the time but in the wasteland, people need to be cautious or their lives and reputations may be at stake. she held no grievances toward the people who treated her unkindly. they had every right to do that.
indentkat took a final pull on her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke. she tossed her cigarette on the snowy ground below her and grinded it out beneath the square toe of her boot. she could wager kieran and talisa were waiting for her inside the medical clinic.
indentpushing open one of the white doors of the building, the paint having been eroded and chipped away by the passage of time, kat brought with her a waft of cold air as she stepped inside. both kieran and talisa turned their heads at the sight of her. she pulled her hat off the crown of her head, setting it down on a rusted cabinet adjacent to the entrance of the main lobby. "hey," she greeted the pair, awkwardly rubbing her hands together as though to ward off the cold biting her through her leather gloves. seated behind the clinic's reception counter, kieran and talisa quietly extended their own salutations to the woman now beginning to approach them. kat knew kieran only just arrived back from one of his expeditions in the dixon wasteland. before he left both her and talisa put in a request for bandages and wound dressings, among a number of other necessary supplies beginning to grow depleted. come this time of the year resources always seem to dwindle faster than usual and she wasn't sure how sustainable it would be to continue treating wounds by the skin of their teeth. the medical clinic they currently occupied was a modestly spacious establishment, lit by a number of lanterns on any viable surface available since the old antler chandelier hanging from the ceiling couldn't provide them any light. kat could already feel herself begin to grow warm from the lit hearth dextral to the entrance of the room. though the building creaked against the wind outside, the crackling sound of fire made the lobby seem a relatively comforting place. a few old collapsible chairs lined the wall of the room opposite to the fireplace, seats where summer camp goers would have once waited before being directed to a private area for medical assessment. a short hallway branched off from the main chamber of the building, where a few separate examining rooms were located as well as the clinic's infirmary. they've repurposed different aspects of the building considerably since a lot of pre-war functions no longer have use to them, such as the reception desk where kieran and talisa were currently seated. there, they would often sort different medicinal supplies or access their established storage of resources. a number of different hanging wooden shelves were bolted to the wall behind kieran and talisa, holding different jars, containers, or bottles with certain medicinal ingredients in them. they were each labeled accordingly and stored on the same shelves for convenience. above the top row of shelves, a plethora of different herbs were suspended clothes-line style with twine for preservation. some bunches of plants with soft petals and leaves were secured in small paper bags to further protect them, a precaution not necessary for sturdier herbs such as rosemary. air drying herbs is a simple technique though admittedly the process does take time and patience. fortunately, the herbs are not exposed to sunlight and remain dry where they hang them. now that kat was standing in front of the pair, she folded her forearms on the stone countertop separating her and the other two healers. the woman leaned over the surface a little bit to peer down at them. the desk they were working at seemed to have a number of different medicinal supplies spread out for sorting. while talisa was in the middle of stowing away some dried plants into dusty mason jars, kieran was separating different roots and tying them into neat bundles. in particular, she could spot valerian root, goldenseal, ginger, and comfrey in front of them. kat couldn't help but grin at the sight, a set of dimples appearing in her cheeks. "woah. talisa got you busy at work already? what a nice welcome back for you, kieran." talisa tried to resist a smile at her cheeky comment, her copper eyes remaining downcast as she screwed a lid onto a jar filled with herbs they collected and dried before the last snowfall. the other woman was notably younger than the man sitting next to her. today her dark curls were pulled back into a neatly combed ponytail, though a few stray locks managed to escape her hair tie nonetheless, tendrils of hair framing her soft features. her flawless bronze skin seemed to glow in the warm light surrounding them. beside talisa, kieran chuckled a little, though he did not bother looking up from what he was preoccupied with cataloging. "truth is, we're just pretending to be busy right now 'cause you strolled on in. before that, we were having a grand ole time kicking our feet up and catching up." kat was used to kieran's dry sense of witticism and his occasional banter by now. he's certainly regarded as one of the more serious, dependable members of the strangelove gang, but given the right company he could crack a few jokes. kat only raised a brow at kieran, regarding him with a look of feigned disbelief. "what, you don't think you can let loose and have fun around me? low blow. if i didn't know any better i'd say you're trying to imply i'm some kind of control freak around here ─ which, by the way, i am not." talisa glanced up at her before exchanging a look with kieran. the expression on their faces seemed to suggest neither of them agreed with her latter remark. kat let out an exaggerated huff of exasperation over their shared amusement, pushing her torso off the counter with a roll of her eyes. as she rounded about the counter to join them on the other side of the reception desk, the aged wooden planks below her boots creaked. she trailed a finger along the edge of the stone countertop, momentarily approaching the wall behind kieran and talisa. kat reached a hand out to check on a hanging bundle of sage. the pale leaves of the plant felt dry in between her fingers, beginning to crumbling even despite her ginger touch. hm. it seemed talisa and kieran had the right idea, beginning to destem and store some of their dried plants. their medicinal supplies relied heavily on contributions from all members of the gang. sometimes they were lucky enough to score a conclave shipment of pharmaceuticals, and other times they needed to rely on the resources offered by wasteland vendors. sometimes people like kaolis would even deliver them some plants or herbs he spotted during a hunting expedition. kat turned toward kieran and talisa despite facing their backs. she clasped her hands behind her. "say, how about that wound dressing and gauze you promised me, kieran?" the older man finally looked up to acknowledge kat, glancing over his shoulder at her. kieran was a man with a receding head of mousy brown hair and a few days' growth of beard on his face. his round facial structure and soft chin made him seem an approachable person. he's always been a reliable figure in kat's life and someone she knew she could depend on. he was technically the first person she met from the strangelove gang, though at the time she didn't really know his affiliation so she supposed jamie still held the honor of being among the first outsiders she formed a bond with. kieran sighed, crossing his arms against his chest while he leaned back in his chair. "there it is. i was wondering when you might ask. you're quick to cut to the chase, aren't ya? i dunno, i'm kind of offended. is that really all i am to you, just someone you send off to run your errands every few weeks? ehm, on second thought...maybe don't answer that." kat pulled one of the remaining chairs up in between the two of them, shrugging her duster off her shoulders as she took a seat. "oh cut it out, you big oaf. we can do without the woe-is-me theatrics today." she huffed, hanging the garment on the back of her seat. kieran silently pushed an open duffle bag out from under his chair with the toe of his shoe. kat looked down at her boots when she noticed the movement in her periphery, spotting a few steel containers imprinted with faded red crosses stored in the contents of his bag. a small smile began to form on her lips. so he did come through after all. kat reached down to pick up a medical kit.
indentopening the container in her lap, she pulled off her leather gloves to briefly sift through the different layers of woven gauze, rolled bundles of bandages, and sterile dressings. she couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of the different wound dressings. the remainder of the supplies he brought back must have been stowed away already, considering the otherwise empty duffle bag. kat rubbed the side of her face with a hand, leaning forward to set the metal box on the desk before them. "thank you." she sighed, a hint of true gratitude in her voice. while not the most scarce supply on the medical market, it was certainly reassuring to have replenished their declining stock of bandages. kieran worked meticulously to acquire certain therapeutic or curative items for them. he rotated between different medical centers and clinics along the border of the dixon wasteland and the badlands, strategically pulling minimal resources from each establishment during which he spent his time providing care to wastelanders. he works cautiously so as to subvert raising any suspicions, determined not to be caught putting a noticeable dent in any establishments medical supply. that's typically why he can be gone from the strangelove camp for up to a month at a time. it takes awhile to get away with things if you want to maintain certain connections or a reputation. kieran shrugged her thanks off like he always did, reaching across kat to pass a few whorls of leaves of glycyrrhiza lepidota to talisa. "don't mention it. ay, there's a whole load of comfrey we gotta grind up yet. mind getting your hands dirty today, miss svensson?" the side of her mouth turned upward into something of a smirk. she gave him a halfhearted shrug. "eh. i don't know, maybe. i was thinking i'd just sit back while you two do all the hard lifting today. but, if you insist..." she trailed off dejectedly, reaching a hand under the desk to open one of its cabinets. kat pulled out a clean mortar and pestle. kieran regarded her with amusement, handing her a bundle of comfrey root. the way kat acted around the strangelove gang nowadays made her seem an entirely different person compared to when she first arrived to the gang. she used to be quiet, withdrawn, solemn, and eager to avoid the other members of their gang. as her mentor and the very person who introduced her to the strangelove gang, kat often used to solely accompany kieran anywhere he went. out of her own apprehension she missed out on bonding with other people on the daily. during late night campfires and storytelling kat could remember watching silhouetted figures from afar, sitting at the windowsill of one of their old medical clinics to watch the shadows of other people laughing, dancing, and drinking together deep in the middle of the night. she didn't mean to cut herself off from the human experience of joy and happiness but after spending a considerable amount of time in the wasteland losing her trust in other wastelanders, she found it hard to humor the innocuous celebration other people engaged in. kat supposed she came around with time. it took her awhile to feel secure in the group, especially during the periods of time in which kieran would leave her on her lonesome at their camp. she would often spend most of her days busied with sorting supplies in the medical clinic, oftentimes even going so far as to redirect medical concerns or inquiries to talisa or the other healers on duty. honestly, she wasn't sure what exactly made her smarten up. kieran did sit her down one time to explain how much of a nuisance she was posing to be in his efforts to court one of the marksmen in the gang, layla farago, so maybe that helped tone down her dependance on the man. untying the bundle of comfrey kieran gave her, kat picked up a small dish of water on the desk and poured a modest amount of liquid into the stone mortar so that she could moisten the dried herbs. in general, the strangelove gang relies on traditional medicine techniques due to how inaccessible other resources can be. they frequently make poultices, a form of mashed vegetable material applied externally so that the herb's properties can be absorbed by the skin. poultices are often used to treat and reduce inflammation, improve circulation, and quicken the healing of cuts, scrapes, and other sores. making a poultice out of comfrey could enable them to go without using pharmaceutically developed topical salves or creams if need be. using fresh herbs actually have a variety of different benefits, too. poultices have the tendency to draw foreign material from the skin or a wound, and they can be applied for prolonged periods of contact so that the beneficial constituents of the herb can be properly absorbed by the skin over a longer timeframe. of course, the only downside is that they take more time to fully heal a wound, and they tend to be messier than other modern topicals. the latter is easily solved by wrapping the area with gauze or covering it with muslin to keep the poultice in place, oftentimes before sleeping. though crushing herbs or grinding them into a paste is the most common form of herbal application, some of the most effective poultices can even be made with a whole leaf held in place with a bandage. there are several herbs that are considered classics when it comes to making poultices. plantain leaves, chickweed stems, calendula petals, dandelion leaves, and burdock roots are known for their safe and versatile natures. comfrey in particular is well known for its anti-inflammatory and cell-regenerating properties, making it an effective poultice for treating a variety of wounds. most herbs can be used as a poultice, but as a general rule of thumb, any plants that should not be taken internally should not be made into a poultice at all. when applied directly to a wound, the herbs in a poultice will be absorbed into the bloodstream despite being applied topically. kat pressed the blunt, club-shaped pestle in her hand against the inner bowl of the mortar, beginning to ground the moistened comfrey. with talisa and kieran having grown silent on each side of her, the scraping of stone against stone filled the main lobby as kat pressed the pestle into the comfrey, trying to achieve a desired texture for the paste. she watched the dark roots of the perennial herb slowly begin to turn into a thick, pulpy mass. talisa's eyes flickered to the mortar and pestle in kat's hands. when she realized kat was making progress with the forming paste, the other woman reached over to pick up one of the mason jars she set aside, loosening the lid to pull out a small ginger root. talisa silently offered the rhizome to her. "ah," kat smiled, accepting her offer. "good thinking. thank you." the same way changing the temperature of a poultice can alter its healing actions, adding complimentary herbs can also offer a variety of different benefits. ginger in particular is a skin tingling, stimulating herb, often used to help increase circulation to the affected area. it's not uncommon to see kat, kieran, and talisa working alongside each other in such a collaborative manner. with all of three of them having different medicinal perspectives, their joint efforts certainly help fill in any possible gaps of knowledge they may have.
indentjust as soon as she noticed the door to the medical clinic creak open, she could hear kieran let out a rather pointed sigh beside her when he noticed who strolled in. kat straightened in her seat a little, her hands going idle with the mortar and pestle. jamie.
indentkieran watched jamie from where he sat with a look of wariness despite the man only having stepped foot inside mere seconds ago. "well, well, well. would you look at what the cat dragged in. if it ain't mister guthrie here to cause some trouble. good to see you, son." the older man knotted the tie on the bunch of roots in his hands, setting them on his lap. kieran has always been somewhat critical over kat and jamie, but in an almost endearing, protective fashion rather than an earnestly disapproving one. in that way he was sort of like the father she never had. kieran was kat's number one supporter and he knew how much jamie meant to her but that didn't mean he was willing to forgo teasing them. naturally, kieran had some assumptions over what business might bring someone like jamie round. "now i do hope you ain't just sniffing around here to see kat, are ya? what excuse do you got for yourself, some phony 'look-i-stubbed-my-toe, let's go check it out in one of these examination rooms here for a second', type of thing? 'cause i sure hope not. see, i was that age once too. believe me, we don't got time for that nonsense right no─"
indent"shh!" kat interrupted, lightly smacking the side of his arm with her hand. she scowled at kieran before giving an approaching jamie a rather apologetic look. "don't mind kieran. i think someone might have given him some sort of a concussion when he was gone. he hasn't been himself since he's returned."
indentthough kat could hear the older man grumble something in his own defense, she was more concerned by the sight of jamie. she eyed him suspiciously as he leaned against the counter before them, partially obscuring the mulberry colored contusion on his face, the result of a blow or two rupturing the underlying blood vessels of his dermis and subcutaneous tissue. the bruise was a nasty one by all accounts, affecting his nose, jawline, and cheekbone, and accompanied by a cut on his lip. though unrelated to his recently battered sate, the bandaged cut peeking out beyond the collar of his shirt was supposed to be well on track for healing. after all, if she could recall correctly it's been around two weeks or so since he first acquired the wound by the dagger of a volkihar cultist. jamie's almost airy attitude regarding his current state hardly surprised her. it was not uncommon for him to brush off his own discomfort as a mere nuisance or burden. can you look at my bandages for me? it's been bothering me all day and kaolis suggested getting it checked out. i mean, it's nothin' serious. still, no matter how much she expected it, kat still had to resist the urge to frown at his nonchalant demeanor. she had to hold back a chiding comment when she noticed him scratch at his bandages, too. at-least she could silently thank kaolis for managing to direct him over to the clinic. if she knew jamie guthrie at all then she knew he wouldn't have sought any help for himself if it weren't for the gentle prodding of one of his closest companions. a part of her wanted to scold him for being so aversive to asking for and receiving help, but they've probably ran through that same conversation an unholy number of times at this point, and she knew better than to think he might put aside his own reluctancies. jamie was not the sort of person to whine or complain about anything that might be discomforting him. in fact, she could bet he could go days without seeking any sort of appropriate medical care if he really wanted to. he might think himself rugged or tough for it but it only ever displeased kat. she tried to go easy on him when it came down to it, though. it was no fault of his own, being so quick to avoid attending to his own needs. jamie saw his own strength lying in his capabilities, in being able-bodied and proficient in his line of work so that he may continue serving the gang as he needs. the threat of prolonged medical attention pulling him from his usual duties seemed non-negotiable to someone like him, though in the long run his apprehension would only hinder him more than anything else. how can you make someone come around to feeling confident in seeking help? it's a difficult task, though certainly a notion she has tried to instill in him time and time before. he seems apprehensive toward exposing his own weaknesses to the world, and no amount of fluttering around him like a worried mother hen is going to change that. kat often tried to look after jamie in what ways he would let her, for his lack of inward attention worried her more often than not. because the two of them share a cabin alongside jamie's siblings, kat frequently takes it upon herself to casually check up on any of his cuts or wounds whenever she gets the opportunity, no matter his protests. if jamie wasn't going to look after himself then someone had to make sure he wasn't going to come down with nausea, chills, or a fever from leaving a wound to fester. she stopped chastising him over the matter a long time ago and simply took matters in to her own hands, quite frankly whether he liked it or not. honestly, she did not know how jamie would properly function if it were not for her, his siblings, or other members of the gang he considered dear friends constantly checking in on him. kat supposed she was long used to taking on the responsibility of looking after other people. she used to hound her younger brother lukas over his own afflictions ─ which he had a habit of neglecting, especially later in his life when he would refuse to level with kat, least of all seek her out for medical attention ─ and she's had a hard time loosening her grip on her need to control other people so that they might remain healthy. she didn't like to see jamie mask whatever pain he might be feeling either. she found it useless, especially when he had no reason to be ashamed or wary around her. kat knew jamie had faith in her, for he certainly seemed to trust her in managing his wounds, but nonetheless, his skepticism toward helping himself paired with that awful tendency to dodge any external assistance made him a difficult patient sometimes. still, it wasn't nearly enough for him to successfully evade kat's concern. the woman absentmindedly stirred the contents of the bowl in her hand with the pestle, keeping her blue eyes trained on jamie. "don't be silly." she simply chided him, not bothering to acknowledge his deflecting antics. if jamie thought he was going to be able to weasel his way out of this he was sorely mistaken. kat glanced at kieran, who she noticed was still regarding the younger man almost skeptically. unlike kat he was less eager to filter his response. his dry sarcasm was nothing new. "well, valerian root and goldenseal are very important, yes. good observation lad. i see you've learned a thing or two from creeping around here like a curious cat all these years. certainly act as though you got nine lives sometimes, at-least. anyway, do you really think sorting herbs is a three person job now? imagine if we just went around turning everyone away, claiming we're too busy sitting on our asses tying up roots and leaves to deal with you lot. psh." kat tried not to reveal the hint of amusement she could feel tugging the corner of her lips into a light smile. kieran looked away from jamie and to kat. "go on. i know you're itching to volunteer yourself as tribute to check up on those bandages of his. and what the hell am i to do about it? just go and get it over with, will ya? try not to dawdle either, or else i'll be obligated to make sure you two are staying on task. shoo, go ahead."
indentkat was quick to take advantage of kieran's approval, temporarily relieving her from her sorting duties alongside him and talisa. fortunately for them, the new delivery of gauze and bandages kieran brought back to camp with him this evening would certainly prove useful if she needed to replace jamie's old bandaging. with the mortar and pestle balanced in one hand and a newly acquired medical kit in the other, kat carefully stood up from where she was sitting, making sure to avoid disturbing either kieran or talisa while she shuffled around them. the pair watched her maneuver herself around the counter to where jamie himself was leaning. kat set the mortar and pestle on the counter beside him, her free hand reaching out to settle on his forearm. "come on. before he changes his mind," she whispered into his ear jokingly, nodding her head in the direction of the hallway branching off from the main lobby of the clinic. jamie was no stranger to the layout of the clinic by now, even despite not actively working within its confines. she found it endearing if not somewhat humorous how kieran treated them as though they were teenagers looking to get into some sort of trouble. he acted as though they were prone to sneaking around under his nose and doing things they best not. of course, she knew he was only being joking but given how serious he can be at times his remarks sometimes leave people doing a double take. kat has come to know kieran better than she knew herself though. the two of them met under some strange, unconventional circumstances. she came from a medical background derived from the teachings of the bringers of salvation who relied heavily on traditional medicine to aid their followers, but before her mentorship under kieran, kat never held the traditional role of a medic in society. that's why instead of meeting kieran as a colleague working at an old wasteland hospital facility, she met him after trying to swipe some bottles of pills and tablets out from under his nose. back then, when she was living out in the wasteland after spending her entire life in a cult, kat would do what she had to in order to swindle other people and sell their goods at a higher price to the most interested buyer. she frequented local markets but when she started wronging people setting up shop there too, she began to resort to back alley dealings and hushed exchanges in questionable towns. it was only a matter of time before she got caught in her rather successful business of thieving, and one day kieran was the person who disrupted her. strangely enough, he was also one of the few people who did not judge her based on her ties to the bringers of salvation. catching her by the sleeve he managed to reveal a set of her tattoos, the most prominent reminder of her time spent as a zaohr cultist. she didn't want the markings but she did think them a high honor back when she first received them. kat must have been around ten years old when she was granted her first set of tattoos, a series of black lines running from her right shoulder down all the way down to her wrist, meant to indicate her successful undertaking of the cult's initiation ceremony. the bringers of salvation utilize the practice specifically for those born into the gang. considered the purest of their followers, the tattooing they enforce is essentially a form of branding meant to permanently tie and identify a person to the cult. in this way, the cult ensures those born into their ranks feel special or valued, taking a route different than that of the average acolyte forced into the bringers of salvation. all things considered, it is a smart tactic. due to her warped way of thinking back when she was younger she used to look forward to progressing her set of tattoos to indicate her importance within the cult. since her initiation ceremony she went on to gain a set of black inked bands encircling each of her wrists, each signifying a three year period of leading the ritual of sastesh as a priestess, an extremely sacred semiannual rite outlined in the black scriptures. she also gained a few different lines on her fingers that when pressed flush together form a straight line across her three innermost fingers. each individual band marked a period of atonement in her life. the bringers of salvation call it skin stitching, a practice that requires hand-poking a persons skin with needles of bone coated with suet and thread-like material made from animal sinew. though kat does not go out of her way to hide the markings while roaming their camp ─ such as right now ─ the tattooing closely associated with the bringers of salvation have become something of a well-known symbol in the wasteland. considering the cult's mandatory tattooing is reserved for people who grow up to become some of the most gruesome, frightening, and horrific people known to scourge the wasteland innocents, it's no surprise that kat often takes heed to cover her own tattoos when she does set foot in a public space. she knew from experience just how easily the geometric lines on her arms and hands could make her a target for people looking to exact revenge for family members lost to the cult or even zaohr devotees skulking around different towns looking for people like her. so-called defectors of the cause are not spared any sort of mercy. kat fled the cult on a night of a sastesh ritual, a time where most of her fellow cultists were under hallucinogenic influence from certain plants themselves. she knew fully well just how impossibly dangerous it was to leave on foot that evening. that night she marked herself as a target the bringers of salvation would quickly dispose of should they ever come across her in the wasteland. fortunately for her, the zaohr cultists do live an isolated lifestyle, but she knew never to be too comfortable. they are rather keen on bringing to justice those who have abandoned the draelyn prince, and it's something that she has seen firsthand too. catching wind of deserters would often mean nighttime excursions to eliminate the ex-cultists in question, but she's also seen some bringers of salvation take it upon themselves to tear down the people closest to them who defected from the cult. hell, her cousin valerie murdered her own sister solveig in cold blood after she tracked her down across the badlands for months on end. that woman was possessed by a feverish need to obliterate the people who stood in her way or those who might risk dragging her reputation into the mud. as a member of the high council, she was not looked upon favorably for having a sister who managed to flee the clutches of the cult. it made her seem weak, lesser, and even a potential defector herself just by association. well, valerie certainly proved to them that she was nothing like solveig. kat could distinctly remember when valerie pulled out her sister's severed head out from a battered old knapsack and dropped it at her feet. the other woman did not say a word to her that night. she simply left her sister's head on the grounds of zaohr's inner sanctum and let kat deal with the proceeding rituals. that look in valerie's eyes, though. it was something kat would never forget. to think back on it would be near enough to send a chill right down her spine. it was almost like valerie could murder kat right then and there and she wouldn't have had a single reservation sending her to the grave alongside solveig.
indentkat's thumb stroked jamie's arm in a reassuring sort of caress before her hand dropped away from him to pick up the mortar and pestle from the counter. she led him down the short hallway and came to a halt before one of the examining rooms. she could hear kieran and talisa's hushed whispering behind them even as they broke away from the duo. the door of the examining room was left half-open, and inside she could spot a few lamps flickering to ensure the space was well lit. kat allowed jamie to enter the small room before she did, taking heed to close the door behind them, pushing it shut with a shoulder. the door creaked on its worn hinges.
indentthe inside of the examining room was not much different than the lobby of the clinic itself. a few small torn posters illustrating medical education decorated the walls, as well as a faded painting of a cartoon giraffe etched with measurement ticks down its neck, essentially a long ruler on the wall once intended to measure the height of a child. pushed up against one side of the room was an old examination table used to support patients during medical examinations, often the epicenter of the patient and clinician experience during a medical assessment. two foldable chairs were positioned across from the examination table on the opposite side of the room and tucked beneath the surface of a desk, bordered by a sizeable wooden cabinet storing a number of different resources that may or may not be relevant to them depending on the state of jamie's wound. the different examination rooms in the clinic were supplied with the appropriate antiseptics, cotton swabs, gloves, thermometers, needles, tweezers, and even stethoscopes. standing at the entrance of the room, kat offered jamie a small smile. "hey." she greeted him quietly. now that they had some privacy she figured it would be easier for her to reach him at-least. careful not to bump into him, kat moved to set down the poultice she was working on atop the desk as well as the medical kit, silently pulling out a chair for jamie and then one for herself. considering she only wanted to take a look at his bandages, jamie would be just fine joining her at one of the chairs rather than the examination table itself. the woman took a seat, resting an elbow on the desk adjacent to them, using her fist to prop her chin up. she observed jamie for a moment, eyeing the exposed bandages peeking out from the collar of his flannel in particular. after a moment passed her eyes flickered back up to meet his own. "...be honest. how long has that wound been bothering you lately?" she inquired gently, searching his features for some sort of confession. she was not going to drill him for not informing her sooner if he has in-fact been purposefully neglecting the cut but she wasn't so sure he'd readily admit such a thing anyway. kat knew better than to try and linger on what limited desire jamie had concerning the topic of his wound so for his sake, she was going to try and keep matters light. still, that didn't mean she wasn't worried. maybe she could get him to open up a bit more during the course of their time in here. kat shifted in her seat, reaching out to grab the mortar and pestle to display the contents of the bowl to jamie. she smiled at him a little. "either way, you got lucky today mister. as you can see, i've got a promising comfrey-ginger amalgamation brewing right now ─ just in time for my most special patient." she joked, giving him a wink. the bowl in her hands was filled with a thickening mush of green and brown from the different plants she had been in the process of pestling into a paste before jamie's arrival. the innermost sides of the mortar seemed to be stained with crushed herbs once stuck to the internal circumference of the bowl. the woman pressed the pestle against the unrecognizable comfrey and ginger once more, soaking up what bits of moisture still remained within the mortar. after a moment passed kat carefully set the bowl down in her lap, keeping a hand hovering around its rim so that it wouldn't topple over. she used her other hand to help pull her own chair closer to jamie, her knees fleetingly brushing against his own. all things considered, kat was eager to get a closer look at what was going on under those bandages of his. she figured jamie would appreciate some celerity too. now that they were in close enough proximity, she could reach a hand out to him, her fingers delicately trailing along the collar of his button up flannel. "so...as requested, how about i check those bandages for you?" her eyes met jamie's own as though looking for some sort of authorization before proceeding any further. regardless of the fact she was itching to change his bandages out right now she wanted to make sure he was comfortable first. it was not going to help him much with his reluctancy if she suddenly began unpeeling his bandages and poking around his cut without fair warning. as kat observed jamie's countenance she couldn't help but recall kieran's near scolding earlier. her expression lightened into something more amused at the thought of the older man. her ginger touch turned into a slight tug at jamie's collar, teasing. kat leaned forward in her seat a little, her face drawing near to his own. "and before you get any smart ideas, you're not going to try and charm your way out of this, yeah? and no, these walls are not soundproof either, wise guy. or did you forget?" the corner of her mouth turned upward into a playful smirk. she loosened her grip on his flannel, but the moment jamie gave her the confirmation she needed kat was quick to center her attention back to his wound. her hand trailed from where it remained hovering at his collar and to the front of his shirt. as she began to work on undoing the topmost buttons of his collar, the pale red material of his flannel fell away, revealing the majority of his bandages. though kat remained focus on the task at hand, she did make an effort to try and coax jamie into a conversation that may distract him from his impending discomfort. she placed the poultice on the desk next to them so that she could take his hand in one of her own. she searched his umber eyes as she undid the final button at his collar, giving his hand a slight squeeze. "hey, why don't you tell me all about your little hunting trip today, hm? speaking as a proud freeloader, i sure hope you lot brought back more than just a few scraggly vermin. oh, and jamie?─" she interrupted herself, pulling back the side of his shirt to fully reveal the bandages along his collarbone and extending down his chest. her eyes flickered back to his own though this time around, her expression was not a particularly enthused one. "what did i tell you about messing with your bandages? i saw you earlier, you know. that better not become a bad habit, baby."

[vaermina]

ＪＡＭＩＥ ＧＵＴＨＲＩＥxxx
I.xcismalex II.xgang affiliationsx III. a bandit of the strangelove gang


indentjamie could not help but laugh at kat's remark regarding kieran's behavior. "oh? remind me to start putting up flyers in the local taverns to find the mysterious assailant so i can give them a big kiss on the cheek. actually, they might deserve a medal of honor for that." he eyed the older man facetiously. "what, you being the same age as i once? that's disgusting, i don't need to know anythin' about that. and why do you wanna know what i'm up to so badly? i think i'm detectin' a hint of jealousy in that tone of yours. jesus, kieran, how many times do i keep having to reject you until you finally get the hint that i'm not interested?" jamie quipped, peacefully oblivious to how close the older man probably was to poking him in the eye with a bundle of knotted roots. kieran's sense of dry acerbity has always amused jamie. the older man never failed to show signs of blatant wariness whenever jamie entered a room and at this point, nobody could blame him for it. kieran did not have it easy when it came to monitoring the health and overall being of the strangelove gang. the older man has been a familiar presence in jamie's life since he was a child, and by now jamie has grown familiar with his snarky riposte and intellectual dour. it did not bother him. jamie had thick skin and his own sense of factious humor; he could conjure up a lighthearted retort to kieran's banter in seconds. to some people, the older man was brimming with opprobrium, chastisement and austerity and while he could certainly be inflexible in his beliefs and unsympathetic towards acts of blatant stupidity, jamie has never considered him to be a person of denigration or vituperation. if anything, he was one of the more reliable members of the strangelove gang and has long since cemented himself as a staple for the gang's inner welfare. much like kat and the other medics, he was responsible for maintaining, promoting, and restoring the health of his fellow gang members. his experience in the field and natural aptitude towards the medical scene crowned him as something of the gang's 'lead healer' although he'd probably be none too eager to put such a spotlight on himself. and despite jamie's teasing, he knew well enough that the importance of the medical clinic and its healers cannot be understated. the strangelove gang dabbles in violence and brutality on the daily. they were a self-perpetuating association of lawbreakers and malefactors who profit from illegal activities, and their transgressions of the law and its accompanying violence often threaten the prosperity of local provinces along the border of the badlands and the dixon wasteland. the gang's endeavors take on many forms and are constantly evolving. the networks and the complex system of associates involved are fluid, and channels for trafficking one commodity or gaining access to new stratagems involving violent crime are often used interchangeably. the gang's monetary success depended on its members and their efforts to reach out to local criminal contacts that could connect them to localized illicit business affairs. the propositions varied from chem and arms trafficking to highway robbery, town burglaries, racketeering, loan sharking, contract killing, theft and extortion. upon producing a successful business contract for their services, the strangelove bandit would then be tasked with the the decision of whether or not they wanted to enlist the help of their fellow comrades before proceeding with their plans. if all went well, the profits were split evenly across the board. years ago, edvard encouraged his followers to meet certain quotas by completing endeavors out in the wasteland so the gang was financially stable, and everyone who was able-bodied and capable enough to endure such tasks were required to contribute to the gang's fiscal welfare. in return, edvard allowed them to keep the profits they made off select jobs if they already contributed to the gang's quota for the month. it was a doable system for many years until a good number of the gang's youths grew up and began blowing their extra earnings every time they got paid. jamie and a good chunk of the other young men in the gang who he practically grew up with would run amuck with their caps as they transitioned into young adulthood. they'd spend all of their earnings on chems, alcohol, women, and guns. they never invested their wealth into anything substantial and instead valued hedonistic pleasures or short-term bursts of sybaritic gratification instead. it was like throwing a pack of wild dogs a bone—without the proper training, they were bound to run amuck. without the proper guidance and discipline, they got into a lot of trouble and proved to be quite menacing to the locals who lived near the gang's camps at the time. jamie and his companions would exercise their self-inflated privilege over any given situation, no matter how ridiculous, immature or abrasive they were being. there were times where they would wander into wastelander towns and cause all sorts of trouble. their shenanigans ranged from dragging hogtied wastelanders behind their horses and dangling patrons by their ankles from the second story of an inn to testing out their newest weapons on the buildings of unsuspecting businesses and residencies. they would also get into trouble by initiating intense bar fights in the early hours of the morning, something that always possessed jamie with a sort of daredevil glee. their escapades usually resulted in a plethora of abrasions and cuts, and that was a generous observation when you throw in a couple of armored conclave soldiers into the mix. they could never resist provoking a group of disgruntled conclave soldiers, and it usually ended up with them limping home with a few broken bones and prominent contusions. jamie's uncle mac had to practically beg edvard to change the gang's policies involving contracts and money quotas once it became clear that the gang's youths were going to dig themselves into an early grave because of their own stupidity. his uncle had to rally likeminded individuals such as abbot and kieran to vouch for him as the late-night exploits did nothing but jeopardize the gang's safety as well as the wellbeing of jamie and his companions. they'd come stumbling back into camp intoxicated, injured or plastered depending on the outing, and their constant acts of lunacy eventually led edvard to change the gang's policies. nowadays, the contracts were split fifty fifty: half goes to the gang and half goes into your own pocket, no matter the job. there's no more independent arrangements.
indent"what? oh, someone's beginning to sound cranky." jamie complained at kieran's sarcasm. "hell, i dunno what your work ethic is like. for all i know, you three spend your time in here smoking all these herbs rather than sorting them. i mean, that's what i would do." he offered the older man a cheeky smile, his hands reaching out to precariously shuffle several small mason jars of dried herbs across the counter. he looked to kat as she stood up from her seat to navigate her way out from behind the desk. "you heard the man, kit kat. we can't dawdle or else he might pull out the belt on us. i guess we're lucky he can't whack us with his stick considering it's shoved up his ass all the time. tsk tsk." jamie shrugged, his eyes watching kat playfully as she approached him with a mortar and pestle. he would not be acting—well, not was a strong word—so impossibly vexing towards kieran if he thought the older man would take it personally. he was right concerning jamie's incautious attitude though. his habits of violating his own sense of self-preservation was the definition of abnormal psychology. his survival instincts are strong, but jamie still engaged in dangerous activities that directly contradicted said fact. jamie often exposed himself to danger more than required by good sense, and it was often due to a spur of the moment act of recklessness. he had little regard for his own safety but it was never intentional. jamie had less fear when confronted with situations that would normally terrify or subdue another person into caution; he shuffled about rarely thinking about what could go wrong or happen to him while out in the wasteland. more often than not, jamie's lack of common sense and precipitous habits landed him into heaps of trouble. abbot often liked to affectionately say that jamie had rocks for brains, and whatever good looks he was sporting were pretty much given to him by the gods to make up for his sheer acts of idiocy. jamie always grumbled and complained at the disparages but there was some truth to be found there. what he lacked in wisdom and sagaciousness he made up for in ardency and physical power. jamie could certainly be crafty when it came to hunting out in the wasteland but he was by no means a brainy person. he had no natural abilities when it came to academics. mathematics confused him more often than not, and he has never been particularly fond of reading unless the material tickled his malefactor tendencies. jamie's ten-year-old brother had more intuition than him. to be fair, jamie's upbringing in an unstable environment where the gang was struggling to gain a foothold most likely contributed to his skewed judgment and lack of sound intellect. abbot contributed much towards jamie's education as a child and encouraged the gang's youths at the time to focus on their studies but as they transitioned into adolescence and the gang began to grow larger in numbers, jamie and a handful of his fellow juvenile comrades grew eager to contribute. they grew disinterested in pursuing academic enlightenment and instead chose to dedicate themselves as earnest apostles and delinquents of the strangelove ideals—a path they were bound to tread on eventually, albeit not so early in age. of course, a good chunk of their eagerness came from some of the adults in their lives who pressured them into participating in some of the gang's earliest enterprises. a good chunk of the gang's gunmen who were around jamie's age were either born into the gang or plucked from the streets and unfortunate circumstances at a young age; they were anxious to prove themselves back then and edvard's zeal pedagogy only fueled their avidity. at the time, the gang needed all the able-bodied hands they could get to establish themselves and not even those who value caution over recklessness such as abbot vehemently challenged their early introductions into crime. there were early expectations put into place that were no longer present within the gang's prerogatives as they were currently at a decent social and economic standing but the damage has already been done. jamie and a handful of his fellow gunmen who grew up with him during that precarious time were quick to learn that vociferous attitudes and fierce initiatives was the quickest way to earn praise from their elders. they collected the compliments and panegyrize like they were the sunday newspaper, and at one point it began to turn into a competition over who can complete the most contracts and reap the most benefits. it was probably why jamie had such a persevering attitude and was more than willing to sacrifice his health and stability for the gang. he struggled to admit praise when other people succeeded in areas he floundered in, and his fluctuating feelings of self-worth and self-esteem largely depended on the way he pleased his superiors. wealth was the quickest way to make his elders happy—save for kieran, who was not so easily blighted by the call of lucre. the older man was probably beginning to mentally prepare himself to throw something at jamie's head when kat began to lead him away. jamie threw a glance at kieran and talisa as he left the counter. "don't forget what i said about those plants too," he added slyly, a cheeky grin beginning to show on his lips as he lifted his index finger and thumb to his mouth in a smoking motion.
indentthe clinic's examination rooms stood as a silent testament to the past. the resilient adhesive residue of old medical posters still lingered on the faded walls of the examining room, as well as the decolorized paintings of various medical cartoons. the room jamie and kat chose to enter displayed obvious signs of wear and tear—grimy floors, peeling wallpaper, defunct ceiling fluorescent lighting, refurbished medical equipment—but like most of the buildings inside the camp, had been patched up to the best of the gang's abilities. there was a single cracked window on the far right wall that allowed fading rays of twilight to enter the small room. "hey pretty lady." he watched as kat moved to set down a medical kit and the poultice she was working on atop the room's old desk before pulling out two chairs for them to sit on. jamie shrugged off his heavy winter coat and draped it across the back of his chair before taking a seat across from her. he was not very sure he liked the look she was giving him, and her proceeding question only solidified his unease. he had to resist the urge to scratch at his bandages again. "eh. i don't know, a day or so?" jamie replied vaguely. he was not very keen on admitting his own faults, and he was certainly not eager to admit that he was neglecting himself for it did nothing but disturb his girlfriend. to be fair, his cut did not begin bothering him until yesterday but he knew before that that it would most likely fester into a problem. he raised an eyebrow at her teasing, his attention briefly flickering down at her mortar and pestle. he wasn't sure he liked the look of all the green and brown goo smushed against the bottom. "oh yeah? i'm such a lucky boy." the man was not just being sarcastic; jamie was lucky that he had the support system he had. the wasteland was a cruel place, one that harbored an unsympathetic and resilient populace who were none too eager to place their trust in others. it was difficult to find a sense of belonging when so many communities were resistant to change or outside influence. jamie could only imagine how difficult it must have been for someone with a background like kat's to assimilate into general wasteland culture. cultism is, and reasonably so, treated with a high degree of disdain by a good majority of the wasteland population. religious idolatry is frowned upon when it becomes violent and all-encompassing. the conclave and the wasteland population share a common hatred for the average criminal, no matter their ideologies or driving point. the government despised their lawless and disruptive ways while wastelanders loathed the way they wreaked havoc in their daily lives by disturbing the peace and taking advantage of folks who were already struggling to get by. but how could one born into a world of strict zeal and isolated veneration know any different? people born into authoritative secular and non-secular factions are often subjected to intense acts of indoctrination that typically involve extreme isolation, an exacting regimen requiring absolute obedience and humility, strong social pressures and rewards for cooperation, and physical and psychological punishments for non-cooperation. bandit gangs are often put into said categories alongside religious cults for their jarring similarities; there was a reason why both devotional cults and destructive bandit groups operate on similar terms, no matter how unique the individual details may be. jamie himself had a rather panoptic view of the strangelove gang's ambitions, dynamics and incentives. he grew up in an environment heavily influenced by the esoteric spiels of his elders, and most of the knowledge he learned as a child consisted of anarchic principles, enlightment beliefs and unruly integrity. jamie did not know of a world that did not consist of the strangelove gang and their life of crime, much like how kat herself did not know of a world without religious violence as a youth.
indentjamie was not expecting kat to pull on his collar. he felt his face grow hot at her teasing; he cleared his throat when her hand fell away. "shh! are you tryin' to get me in trouble? the walls have ears! for all we know, kieran sent his little rat buddies inside the walls to spy on us and bring him back all the juicy information. he's probably the damn pied piper of hamelin in disguise." his smile matched her own. "but yeah, i'm ready." as she began to undo the top buttons of his shirt, his gaze fell away from her face to focus on their conjoined hands as soon as he felt her take his hand in her own. it took him a moment or two to realize that he was not only slouching in his seat but practically man-spreading as well. he awkwardly corrected his posture before meeting her gaze. "you know what? scraggly vermin or not, as a freeloader you're gonna eat your mush and you're gonna like it," he teased her. "or if you give me a kiss, i can possibly spare you something nicer to eat." jamie was none too eager on admitting that their catches today were subpar. it made him feel like a failure, and jamie has never been keen on acknowledging his own inadequacies. he was not enthusiastic either on speaking about his bandages. like a dog desperate for its owner's affection and none of their bereavement, it was difficult to keep eye contact with kat whenever she was displeased with him. jamie shifted in his seat again, his free hand reaching up to rub the side of his neck in lieu of his bandages. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to do it. it's just itchy." realizing that his answer was probably less than ideal, he winced. "okay, okay. scout's honor, it's not gonna become a bad habit or anythin'. i won't do it again. i don't even know why i did that. i was just being dumb." jamie's gaze flickered down to look at their clasped hands. whether or not he was being honest or just trying to get her off his behind had yet to be deciphered. jamie has grown used to kat's solicitous and attentive ways. he was no longer surprised when she inserted herself into situations involving his physical well-being, and he's since learned that resisting her care was futile. truthfully, kat was an extraordinary healer but her abilities were only amplified by her tenacious and conscientious ways. kat was never the type of person to approach a medical situation in a desultory type of manner, and that solidity was probably what made her such a staple amongst the gang's medical team. in a way beyond even jamie's surface-level understanding, kat's persistent desire to control the external world around her by micromanaging jamie's afflictions mixed well with the man's importunate habits of self-neglect and physical vulnerability. in some ways, kat's past endeavors of being in charge of large sanctified ceremonies and providing fastidious sectarian guidance for her fellow zealots made her a person familiar with the tender responsibilities of guiding others. the woman appeared most at ease when she was able to control something in the environment around her, and jamie was exactly the type of person who benefited best from the guidance and support of other people, damn his attempts to hide it. they connected as well as two puzzle pieces being snapped together into place. obviously, the couple were born into very different environments and jamie tried his best not to tread into sensitive territory when it came to inquiring and observing monologue concerning kat's past. jamie has never been very knowledgeable about the hallowed cults that lay tucked within the deepest wilds of the wasteland. in all seriousness, jamie's mother had once been a devout follower of god. her early years of relying on his spiritual support and wisdom as an orphan navigating the badlands did not change when she became a bandit, and she put a lot of pressure towards her faith in terms of bolstering the gang's success and health over the years. she used to tell jamie that worldly self-esteem bases your worth on appearance, possessions, and accomplishments. whether high or low, that kind of esteem was prideful, focused on oneself, and doesn’t add value to your life. it minimized your potential for growth and influence, and physical pleasures and material vices shouldn't be their end goal. she believed that edvard's ideologies of changing the world and pushing for a country free of political restraints, faction violence and purity subjugation was far more important than the gang acting on criminal impulses and feeding their inner desires for wealth and status. his mother often told him growing up that he was valuable because of who he was, what he cost and what he could become to help lessen the polarizing effects of edvard's societal dreams that could only be approved by god. his mother truly believed in edvard because she saw him as a physical manifestation of what she wanted and desired as a stray growing up in a world still torn by a war that occurred over three hundred years ago. in jamie's mind as well as to the knowledge of his former mother and fellow gang members, the strangelove gang's inherent ideologies of destroying the wealthy, contributing to the necessitous and creating a fair world for everyone aligned a lot with some of god's teachings and what's not to say that wasn't a good thing in and of itself? the bringers of salvation could not be anymore different with their own dogma.
indentthere was probably a reason why the bringers of salvation have survived the past few decades without suffering total military annihilation. their leader had to be doing something right when it came to ensuring their quiet survival, and for that it made the enigmatic man all the more deadly for only those truly foolish in the mind would seek the sweet embrace of death by challenging the conclave military directly. it's probably why the strangelove gang has managed to operate unscathed for decades. edvard despised the conclave like the next wastelander but he knew better than to push his luck by remaining an open target of the government's ire. of course, jamie could sit here and speculate on the enigmatic cult that once played kat like the way a puppeteer would play his favorite gilded marionette but he did not know how they truly operated. he could only base his knowledge on what he knew of other draelyn cults located throughout the wasteland and what his girlfriend saw fit to tell him. it was a miracle that kat managed to escape the chains that bound her there but were those chains pieces of twisted iron forged by the ideologies and indoctrination of her elders or were they chains made of the flesh and bones of the few people who she truly cared about? based on what she has told him, it sounded like she left the cult not long after the mysterious death of her younger brother. what happened to lukas svensson? who killed him? what killed him? jamie refused to believe that the boy died of natural causes but would kat ever reveal the truth behind his peculiar demise? jamie did not think so, and there was no point trying to drill that information out of her. she respected him enough to keep her distance on matters that jamie had no interest talking about, and it wouldn't be fair of him to not do the same. to be fair, jamie has never been a particularly emotional person either. he has always found it easier to avoid the scope of his own discomforts and needs by alienating himself from certain vulnerable characteristics. as strange as it sounded, it felt easier to ignore his own afflictions and mental bereavements if he simply disregarded the fact it hurt in the first place. jamie has become quite adept in biting his own tongue, for he was not the type of person to lodge a complaint or pick holes in intolerable scenarios. he was self-effacing that way, and often downplayed what he brought to the table based on the opinions and observations of others. jamie could certainly be astute when he wanted to be but he was neither a particularly ingenious individual nor knowledgeable on topics beyond the scope of his skills as a bandit. some of his fellow companions like kaolis tried their best to gently discourage him from making such disparaging remarks but jamie was smart enough to recognize where his own strengths lie. and truthfully, most of jamie's crudity and instability came from the way he was raised. a good portion of the young men and women who grew up in the strangelove gang were not consulted in matters of perspicacity and excogitation. they were expected to carry out whatever orders they received from their elders, and rewards were duly prescribed upon completion. plans involving the gang's endeavors and future were usually exclusively discussed amongst those of notable rank before being presented to the rest of the flock, and jamie and his fellow gunslingers were rarely consulted on matters that involved careful deliberation and guile. their superiors did the thinking for them, and in return created a generally puerile gang of misfits who did not rationalize or vindicate like ordinary adults. kieran's earlier observation was not far from the truth: jamie does act like he has nine lives. and despite his earlier reservations, jamie kept his eyes on their conjoined hands. he did not bother moving his head to look at what she was doing with his wound, especially when he felt her begin to unwrap his bandages. the inflamed cut began at his collarbone and reached down towards his chest in an irregular formation. it made up in length what it lacked in depth. once on the amenable track to healing, recent events have done nothing but sour the wound's progress. he's noticed over the past few days that the area around the cut itself felt warm to the touch, and any sort of slight interference against the wound elicited a brief bite of pain before subsiding into dull discomfort. it was crossing the border into infection, although it had yet to become significantly impaired. still, it was a source of conspicuous chagrin for jamie, and he could already feel his body begin to tense up as soon as kat went to work. jamie did not mean to be a difficult patient. he knew that the healers already dealt with enough strain as it is, for their roles in the gang were far from unchallenging.
indentit was not easy tending to the health of men and women who make their living off the violence of criminal enterprises. out here in the wasteland, there was a lack of unified law and order, no type of institutional system of crime and punishment apart from the conclave's criminal justice system. there were no laws of court out here, no systems of justice meant to dole out fair punishment against the accused. if you wrong someone, you'd best prepare to pay with your life. there were hardly any lawmen out in the wasteland apart to quell social unrest and chaos apart from the conclave's military presence. in fact, residential wasteland deputies and sheriffs were a rare sight and only equipped to a town's roster if it was organized and stable enough to provide for local law enforcement. really, they were amateurs at best. they did not attend training academies or steep themselves in emerging scientific methods such as analysis of fingerprints and blood patterns. they knew nothing of forensic methods and were largely untrained in cast impressions, fingerprint dusting, gunpowder residue stains and crime scene photography. frontier lawmen were primarily gunfighters and trackers, expected to deter crimes from regional bandit gangs and local miscreants based on their presence alone. sometimes, a small posse of lawmen in a quaint wasteland town were literally the law itself, and nothing but their judgment and their trigger fingers stood between them and extermination. people who are found guilty of crimes out in the wasteland usually die as a result of their malfeasances. if local law enforcement found you guilty of a crime—their decisions were most often based on limited evidence and the cries of the accusers—you could very easily be chased out of town, lose a finger or two or find yourself hanging at the bottom of the gallows. in conclave society, various degrees of theft could land you in a mountain of fees, restitution demands or several years of jailtime. in the wasteland, stealing from a struggling farmer or reputable caravanner may very well end in death. there was little sympathy offered towards lawbreakers on grounds of such individuals making life that more difficult for everyone else, and it is considered generally justifiable for wastelanders to shoot and kill common malefactors who seek to steal from them or bring injury upon them and their families. wastelanders slaughter each other all the time—from the biblical commandments of reciprocal justice and exact retaliation to vehement arguments and classic street duels. the badlands had a lengthy history of drawing every breed of miscreant across the country to its isolated hills. the badlands bore the unwritten codes of the american frontier where the traditions that historically bound communities in every other part of the united states has unraveled. the region's lack of government control and military presence has made it a breeding ground for lawlessness and disorder. the few select wastelander towns and cities that dotted the landscape were tumultuous at best, and not at all suitable residencies for the pious and proper. all the forces of evil and dissipation could be found there: gambling, drinking, adultery, lying, thieving, murdering. it was easy to find yourself entranced by the places at the dark ends of the streets: the establishments that seemed proper on the exterior but contained hidden rooms plagued by ladies of the night and black market dealers who were eager to present you their collection of outlawed chems, unsanctioned weaponry and stolen goods. for people who had very loose morals, the badlands' social scene was a fun but dangerous adventure. for people like those in the strangelove gang, the badlands was the perfect panorama for criminal ventures and illicit operations. and in a place like the badlands, you're guaranteed to receive some sort of physical injury for wrecking nefarious tumults upon other people. the marksmen of the strangelove gang were rarely afforded protection from such pandemonium themselves. in fact, their proclivity for barbarity often landed them into heaps of trouble to begin with. if it wasn't their own partiality in starting chaos, it was their appetite for violence, fueled by their superiors' orders. anyone unlucky enough to wrong edvard strangelove or prickle abbot alton's ire would usually meet an unpleasant beating or brutal death depending on the time of day. there have been times where jamie and a few of his colleagues have been sent to intimidate blabbering wastelanders into silence or terrorize struggling debtors into paying up what they owe the gang's loanshark. they were always quick to resort to brutality to get their point across, although they were often fueled by the effects of psycho to begin with and people were rarely prepared to face aggressors under the influence of near-psychosis. it didn't matter if they had to garrote someone to death to ensure their silence or nearly drown someone in a horse trough to get them to spit out where they were keeping their valuables. they had no problem taking a life because, in their minds, it was justified. they did not lose sleep over menacing other wastelanders because if their leaders demanded it of them, then those people were guilty of something to begin with. growing up in an environment that lacked basic empathy for outsiders and pushed a narrative that violence is ideal when inflicted on the right people has made the gang's younger generation indifferent to what they did on the daily. they felt that the world owed them something, and if they wanted something they were going to take it. in a world where people are more likely to stab you than let you utter one word of disrespect, it was no surprise that the gang's healers were constantly on their feet tending to their battered colleagues.
indentkieran, kat and the rest of the strangelove medics were closest thing they had to gods. the importance of their work and the knowledge they had to share could not be undermined. their combined skills and effective expertise has saved a number of lives over the years. from extracting sordid bullet fragments from floundering subjects to popping bones back into place and carefully stitching cuts of various depths and bloodiness, they worked diligently to ensure the gang did not crumble in upon itself. their invaluable contributions to the gang's welfare was probably why edvard allowed kieran to travel along the border in search of wasteland medical facilities to begin with. he trusted the other man. edvard allocated him privileges that the rest of them could only dream of enjoying, but kieran's escapades were not motivated by earthly pleasures. he always appeared to be on the hunt for more medical supplies, more medical knowledge, for more ways to access advanced medicinal education and equipment that could help the gang in times of dire strife. it was important that the gang had a steady reserve of medical supplies on hand to deal with its monthly influx of violent crusades and corresponding injuries, and that was hardly taking into consideration the other endemics that have begun to plague its members. the recent narcotic crisis that has struck wasteland society like an angry snake has already begun the process of infiltrating the strangelove gang. the recent deaths of valued gunslingers mayeda miami and nolan verlice has brought the issue into focus, although nobody was particularly pleased at being forced to face the truth of the matter. miami perished from a fatal cardiac episode a few years ago during the height of her lawless career; nolan died months later from a deadly flesh-eating disease that eventually carved its way up his chest and through his neck, severing his jugular veins and ending his life one random crisp summer morning. it was eventually determined that both marksmen died from diseases brought on by their incessant chem usage. several months later, talisa clarke was welcomed into the gang's ranks. her opportune introduction was by no means a mere coincidence but rather the result of an exhausting campaign initiated by some of the gang's older members for edvard to handle the metaphorical disease that was beginning to target the group of bandits. people were beginning to drop likes flies, often viciously and rather suddenly from afflictions caused by near-decades of perpetual chem consumption. talisa's role in the clinic was to take charge of any and all medically managed detox abolitions by stabilizing her patients and minimizing the discomfort and dangers of their symptoms as their bodies were flushed of toxic poisons. ideally, she'd be preparing them to transition into recovery by creating an efficient starting point from the moment of their convalescence but that was a line their leader was not willing to cross. edvard refused to put a red stamp on banning the usage of chems within the strangelove gang. the older man often proclaimed that was not the type of person to regulate acts of recreation amongst his subordinates, and he would be violating the tenets of his own beliefs if he began impeding on their rights. as a man who was obsessed with intellectual concepts such as urban darwinism, confucianism, and philosophical anarchism, edvard preached an introspective attitude to life based on the acts of taking pleasure for yourself and other people, that it is all instinctually valuable and that human beings are not meant to go against the laws of their inner nature by plaguing themselves with complex political, economical and socially damaging structures. edvard believed that people act for many reasons; but for whom, or what, do or should they act—for themselves, for god, or for the good of the planet? can an individual ever act only according to her own interests without regard for others’ interest? conversely, can an individual ever truly act for others in complete disregard for her own interests? the answers will depend on an account of free will. he valued free will above all else, hence his refusal to monitor what potentially dangerous activities his followers may be dabbling in in their spare time. as long as they remained contributing members who did not shirk their duties, he could care less what they did and recruiting talisa to their cause appeared to be edvard's final say in the matter—an admirable message in jamie's eyes, for he was one of many who did not like the idea of edvard imposing his own intolerance on the rest of them. if jamie had his way, he wouldn't even bother with talisa's cleansing treatments to begin with. they were painful, exhausting, and agonizing at the worst of times. a presumably necessary evil, jamie could not find it in him to appreciate the procedure. it was nothing short of miserable. chem detoxification has never been a pretty procedure to begin with, but it was downright hellish when conducted in an environment with less than ideal medical equipment. talisa always did her best with what was available but it often came at the cost of sacrificing her patients' comfort. there was no eloquent way to describe how it felt to have your body struggle to re-establish a normal state of equilibrium. it often took weeks for the human body to naturally flush itself of poisonous toxins, and talisa's treatments were a way to not only speed up the process but ensure it was done in a safe manner to avoid the dangers that come with natural withdrawals. the procedure had to be done every month or two—sometimes more or less, depending on the gang's overall chem consumption—to ensure that medical complications such as the diseases that took the lives of nolan and miami could be kept at bay. it was a strange system when one realizes that the treatments were being utilized as buffers rather than endgame preventions but with edvard having no interest in banning chems from the strangelove gang, it was the best that they could do to minimize future casualties.
indenttalisa tried her best to provide her colleagues with a stable and comfortable experience in the medical clinic during such intense treatments but there was only so much she could do to help them. she began her career working in conclave field hospitals, clinics where she had a wide array of medical equipment, medicines and aid to help her treat her patients. she never had to sit there and compromise or entirely opt out on certain procedures because she lacked the most basic of apparatuses to carry them out safely. she could not administer any sort of heavy sedation upon her colleagues in fear their breathing might become impaired, as the gang lacked the airway equipment that was often utilized in conclave hospitals. the most she could do was apply moderate sedation, where the patient has depressed consciousness but will respond to verbal requests or react to touch—and most importantly, their airway reflexes remain intact as a result. she prioritized the threat of immediate distress over that of cautionary comfort, and while nobody could blame her for her chariness it often opened a portal of ceaseless tribulation for the rest of them. sometimes, she combined her treatment plans with dissociative agents to lessen their feelings of discomfort but such occasions often depended on how much chems were already in their systems, particularly hyperactive ones such as psycho which already produce psychotomimetic reactions. honestly, jamie wasn't sure whether or not he preferred the stupefacients in the first place. it always came with a series of strange detaching effects, like he was disconnected from his own body or that nothing around him was real. there was a decrease in sensory experience and an increase in feeling like one does not belong in their current environment. was he dreaming or was he awake? did someone truly touch his arm and talk to him or was that merely a hallucination? what was his name, and why was he here? there was no sense of stability or identity, but that was a price you had to pay for the comfort of not being able to physically acknowledge your ailments. most preferred it over lying in a stiff hospital bed moaning and groaning over their body aches and persistent nausea. jamie himself was always targeted by intense body chills and an indescribable ache that made him feel like his bones were about to shatter. he always found himself enwrapped in a cold sweat, with a pale complexion that his uncle said made him look like he just witnessed the second coming of jesus christ. sometimes he would shake so badly that his teeth would chatter—often to the point where he felt like he was going to break a molar—and no amount of blankets or warm towels could quell the chill that settled in his bones. like the rest of his colleagues, jamie has never suffered a serious or near-fatal complication during talisa's cleansing treatments but that did not mean they were spared the unpleasant and painful side effects that came with it. it was a kinder mercy to have them all moderately sedated, for being awake and fully conscious of their own indispositions usually resulted in a handful of delirious and extremely agitated patients. there have been moments where, in a state of general incoherence triggered by a sweltering fever, jamie has nearly ripped out ivs from his arms or lashed out at those who were just simply trying to help him. he never wanted to be touched and would often physically recoil whenever his temperature was taken or his ivs changed. a normally agreeable character with a penchant for playfulness around his colleagues, it was like jamie switched into an entirely different person. it was why talisa tried her best to utilize sedative agents whenever they were available without triggering the risks that came with it. it was easier to tend to the sick when they were not actively resisting treatment or growing aggressive with their caretakers. truthfully, jamie could not remember much of his time in the medical clinic whenever he went under. even without deep sedation he was usually exhausted enough to fall into a deep sleep, and whenever he did happen to wake up he was too stupefied to properly register his surroundings or situation. the only moments of interest that jamie could recall from most of his treatments were people trying to talk to him whenever he would stir from his slumber. sometimes they would shine a light in his eyes and ask him if he could hear them or someone would squeeze his hand and ask him if he were awake, but their voices always sounded muffled and it was impossible to make out the blurriness of their faces beyond his direct line of sight. if he was in pain, he could not feel it. if he was speaking, he could not register what he was saying. those moments were probably the most placid he has ever acted in the gang's various medical clinics, but he knew that those treatments tended to be stressful for everyone involved. talisa was usually pulling on her own hair trying to ensure her patients did not suffer from seizures or cardiac episodes, and she had a tendency to drag the other healers into her apprehension through her own bouts of anxiety.
indentdespite the enervation that came with the treatments, there was never any sort of indicator from jamie or his young fellow marksmen that they would put an end to their habits. edvard has never given voice to any of his concerns, and his own silence on the matter only fueled their acts of self-enabling. they did not care to listen to anybody else because nobody else had the power to stop it, and a veto from edvard would only cause them to continue to find ways to feed their own inclinations in secret. it was one of the few stumbling blocks of the strangelove ideologies. with most of them having become fueled by edvard's rantings of artistic and bohemian interests and lifestyles where there is a tendency towards self-creation and experimentation as opposed to tradition or popular mass opinions and behaviors, none of them put an sort of particular importance on restrictive authority or social acceptance. they believe in emphasizing the individual and their will over external determinants such as groups, society, traditions and ideological systems. freedom in one's character through sexuality, gender, interests, ideologies, beliefs and human progress is seen as a clear, direct expression of an individual's self-ownership. there was fluidity to be found in practically everything, and there were no clear definitions on where one should land in terms of morality, religion, ideas, and customs. edvard liked to call the gang a union of egoists—an apparently very real term coined by former philosopher max stirner—and his relaxed approach in terms of how they handle life's many crises has created a unique dialogue amongst the gang members in terms of their own individualism. there were some who vehemently adored edvard's rigmaroles and followed his whims to the max while others expressed concern over just how much self-government they should allow some of their more unstable colleagues to possess. the latter group did not express any outward disapproval or even criticism of edvard's beliefs themselves but simply appeared worried over the concept of allowing a clutch of half-mad gunslingers too much autarky over their own personal well-beings. there were some like his uncle—a man who was once as wild as jamie but has since grown wiser with age and abstinence—who believed that authority was needed in times of clear personal strife, and it was edvard's responsibility to step in and create boundaries when recklessness was beginning to turn malignant but there were only a few who agreed with him. it was clear that jamie and a good portion of the gang's young men and women in the same age bracket as he were not sensible enough to take care of themselves, and those who were inherently rational were outnumbered by three to one. they were certainly responsible when it came to their duties and what was expected of them, but they sacrificed their personal well-beings and overall comfort for it. it was probably why a majority of them chose to dabble in recreational chems. they could not handle their workload or the expectations placed upon their shoulders without something to drag them across the finish line. they sacrificed the most basic of comforts or their own physical and mental health so their elders could be proud, and damn the consequences of it all because what was more satisfying than knowing you were contributing to something greater than yourself? it never clicked that there could be something more sinister going on, a hidden manipulation and control that was dangled over the heads. so they lived on, but the enslavement lived with them, a marriage from which there was no divorce, a story that bore no clear ending. there were even some older members in the gang such as bill, hamish and jamie's own father who have still not recovered from their early years of chem usage, and it could explain why they were all but half-mad and often found with a bottle of whiskey in hand. jamie himself would often walk right out of talisa's treatments and begin devouring chems again as if he did not just spend a week of his life trying to rid himself of its poison. he knew he shouldn't, he knew it was going to be painful and he was going to be stuck in the cycle again, but he did it anyway. he didn't care if it gave him physical symptoms such as nausea, chills, muscle pains or heart palpitations. he didn't care if it brought about disturbing mental alterations where he could not decipher reality from fiction, or was unable to swallow bouts of uncharacteristic agitation that made him unusually cruel to the people around him. he didn't care if it was going to hurt him because he was a child weaned on injury, and discomfort was all he's ever known. it felt good in the moment, and that was good enough for him. his uncle never hesitated to make his displeasure known to jamie. you ain't you when you're like this. you ain't you, and you know it. and who was he to judge him when he was once just as impetuous as jamie? mac was a turbulent man in jamie's youth, someone who was often himself controlled by the devil's choice. jamie remembered the older man acting stormy and chaotic most of the time, and his now measured and glacial behavior only seemed to come about when life began handing him some unfortunate cards over the past few years. he and jamie shared a complicated relationship. his uncle meant well, sure, but his lack of proper communication and empathy made him come across as judgmental and pushy, something that was almost guaranteed to chase off someone like jamie guthrie. his uncle once told him that he was an albatross but instead of causing problems for others, he caused the biggest problems for himself. he was his own worst enemy: always eager to please, always eager to contribute, always eager to make others like him to the point where he was willing to ruin his own health and mental state in order to be up for the task. he loved unconditionally, but it was a savage type of love where he loved others more than he loved himself. he took himself apart to give the pieces to others who demanded it of him without taking the time to glue the cracks back together, and he wondered why he felt like sometimes his body was going to give out on him like that of old china.
indentthere was nobody who could hold him down because he has never faced a shred of discipline in his entire life. there have always been muted accusations floating about that edvard and abbot had their favorites amongst their disciples, and jamie happened to be one of them. it was no surprise considering he was the first child born into the strangelove gang and one of the first to be raised in its environment. young jamie had been a conduit for the strangelove ideals and principles, a newborn puppy they could teach and train to obey their every whim and heed their words. he was like a sponge that they would use every day, throwing this ideology and this belief around to see how well it rolled off the tongue. he grew up revering his elders, and in return he has received very little discipline from the gang's leaders. they were evidently fond of him. where one of his colleagues may get a stern reprimanding jamie got a small slap on the wrist, and he could get away with twice as much than half of the other marksmen in the gang. it was probably why his impulsive behavior frustrated people like kieran and mac, for the only ones who could put jamie in his place had no desire to do so. whether or not it was because he helped put caps in their pockets or because he was more than eager to please them, jamie enjoyed certain benefits that other members of the gang may feel like they lack themselves. he could act out of line and seriously maim or even kill someone in a situation that required no violence and he would still find a way to avoid being thrown into the doghouse. in many ways, jamie's relationship with kat appeared to humble him on that matter for she did not let him get away with anything. it was strange how she seemed to understand his character far more than some of his own blood relatives. she seemed to understand that constantly hounding him or expressing animated disapproval would do little to bolster his confidence towards seeking help, and she took matters into her own hands than allowing him the chance to fret over his own impeding discomfort and flee the scene. over time, it has become clear that kat ensuring her superiority over jamie during such moments was crucial to taming his unease and keeping him from manipulating the situation in his favor, as shown by her easy pass over his earlier deflection techniques. it was evident that kat has grown familiar in how to handle him during moments of high tension, or perhaps witnessing his uncle unsuccessfully sway jamie while instantaneously insulting his character by accident gave her some tips on what not to do. perhaps that is why jamie has grown to trust her so much, or at-least put more confidence in her skills as a healer than he did the other medics despite the seniority of some like kieran. he was safe when he was with her, and the guarded front he usually bore in particularly intimate situations was quick to crumble when he was in her presence. jamie even found himself falling sleep quicker when she was in bed with him, for there was no reason anymore to lie there wondering if some mysterious spurned assailant was going to attack him in his sleep. of course, that wasn't counting the moments when he has mistaken kat's wandering hands—usually in search of an open wound or cut he's been neglecting, for she has taken it upon herself to routinely exam his body for the like—as an insect of some kind, and he'd end up reaching behind him to smack the crap out of one of her hands when he'd feel her fingers against his back, not realizing it was actually his girlfriend on a quiet mission. their relationship nowadays was far different than how it was back when they first met, when kat was a reclusive and somewhat offhand woman with a traumatic background and very few people she considered trustworthy. jamie's father used to tell him that he would skin him alive if he caught him talking to that 'backwoods witch', for the older man had been skeptical of allowing a former cultist to join their ranks. obviously, jamie did not listen to him and now cormag guthrie was convinced kat had his son under some hypnotic spell involving routine acts of coition and some carnal ritual every full moon or so where she had jamie drink a potion mixed with her blood and that of wild animals—an absolute absurd accusation that, when his father first went panicking to edvard about it, everybody in a ten feet radius could hear the man roaring in laughter about it. his father's superstitious nature concerning the paranormal and religion was probably why he did not bully kat despite his vehement dislike for her. he probably thought she was going to turn him into a pinecone. jamie himself has never been intimidated by the minacious details of kat's upbringing, and even expressed gentle curiosity in her when she first joined the strangelove gang. he remembered how she used to shy away from contact and did not readily seek interaction from other people in the gang. she stuck by kieran most of the time, and the only way jamie could really seem to interact with her without feeling like an ass for pestering her in the first place was whenever he would bring her supper after noticing her absence from the group's nightly campfires. he would often leave the plate in front of her tent or on the doorstep of whatever chalet she was currently holed up in, for he knew it was unwise to try and force her to join in on whatever festivities the gang was currently celebrating. for the most part he would slink around like a nervous dog, unsure of how to approach her. jamie supposed that, within time, whatever uncertainty was there gradually burned away upon their close quarters and kieran allegedly pushing her to interact with her colleagues. as a healer, kat would also participate in the upkeep of the gang's physical health, and they spent a lot of time together in those clinics when they were younger, especially with young jamie's rampant use of chems. he's probably said a lot of peculiar things to kat over the years while under the influence, and at this point he did not think he wanted to see the list, one which undoubtedly harbored some sort of evidence of jamie randomly confessing his love for her while she was trying to stop one of his wounds from bleeding out. he and kat have been on this carousel before, and he already knew what she was going to try to do. he knew that her goal was to distract him long enough for him to not dwell on his discomfort. jamie's head was still turned to the side, his attention focused obtusely on the faded wall next to him as to avoid looking at his bandages. he could taste blood in his mouth from where he has begun absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip, reopening the cut in the process. "so... yeah." he winced as his lip began to sting again. "we haven't been able to find much game in the woods lately. either winter's been hitting harder than usual this year or pierson's out there catching all the critters and eating them himself," he chortled. figuring that joke may or may not be well-received, he quickly cleared his throat and straightened himself up again. he was beginning to grow fidgety, and any moment now he was going to back up into the wall with just how much he was subconsciously leaning away from kat's touch. kieran was going to walk in here any second now and find kat straddling jamie—not for any reason the older man might immediately jump to the conclusion of but rather she was forced to try and wrangle jamie into physical submission so he would stop resisting her care. "erm... anything interesting news-wise come out of kieran's recent wanderings? i know that there was some commotion along the border last month about that rebel group or whatever attacking a military fort. fort snow... is that what it's called? anyway, i'm sure the conclave is already preparing itself to massacre every random unfortunate bastard they come across over the next few months for that. they always gotta have the last laugh, huh? not gonna lie, i'd be ready for some action. i feel like i'm going crazy out here in the middle of nowhere. don't get me wrong, i ain't fond of all that civilization down south but it's insane how the nearest town is hours away from here." he spoke of the word civilization like the way a vampire would hiss at the slightest ray of sunlight.