[[sibber & soteh]]

[sibber-chow]

Two sets of brown eyes studied opposite sides of the horizon - it was mid-day and the sun was radiating in the sky with ferocity. Sweat trickled down each twins' brows and such sweltering climate might be most unsavory if they weren't entirely used to it. The heat of the day only lasted for so long, and they had little choice but to bare it. What point was there in complaining, when there wasn't a thing that could be done to prevent it...

"Damn, it's hot."

Spunk Revolver clutched the bridge of her nose as she tried to tune out her sister's complaints. When the silence didn't return, instead replaced by her pestering drone, the elder twin found her only alternative is to take cue that there time of rest had ended. The feisty blonde only said such things to get to Spunk, but it worked. "For the millionth time, there is nothing I can do about it, X, so shut up!" After losing all composure, she moved from her position crouched in the sands. "Let's go then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we get out of the heat," she uttered with clarity and the tinge of annoyance still tainting her tone. Her fingers snapped abruptly to reclaim her sister's attention which had since drifted back upon something in the distance. "Come on then."

"Spunk?" X whispered, taking slow to her feet as she glanced over back over her shoulder. "Spunk!"

"Wha-" She didn't have to finish that demand; as her body made the abrupt turn to face X Drag, she was well aware of what had startled the blonde. "Get behind me, now." The younger was quick to oblige the command and each girl pulled their weapons. The mass was but a silhouette in the distance, but more often than not a silhouette was an enemy. Each had learned it was best not to take the chance, and instead pull their guns first.

"Could be another killjoy," X optimistically suggested although it did nothing to relieve the tension of either.

"Chances are it isn't. Just stay behind me and get ready to pull the trigger," Spunk hissed, not willing to loosen her guard on some off chance that it wasn't a foe. As she pulled her red bandana above her nose, the elder didn't hesitate to make gait to meet the figure or figures. Her gun was hot in hand as she drew closer. And, it was fortunate she hadn't faltered her guard, for the one blotch on the horizon became a group of four. And, the dark silhouettes grew clearer as ivory donned Dracs. Cursing beneath her breath, spunk motioned for her sister to stay back. There was no point in them both heading straight into a blood bath.

Spunk immediately raised her gun upon recognition of the figures, managing a clear shot to the chest of one of the central figures. It didn't take anytime for the fallen's partners to raise their own weapons. Lazers gleamed through the air, as the fight erupted without hesitation on either end. A shot grazed Spunk's right leg but there was no falter in firing. She managed another dead before a shot found her shoulder. It hit square on and her gun faltered from grip. The sound of her sister's boots hitting the sand caught Spunk's attention though she didn't look back. Rather she crouched to the ground as if fallen from the hit, but other intention was in mind. "Left, X!" Snarled from her lips as she found her gun in the grip of her opposing arm.

Each enemy was focused upon the approaching blonde, and it wasn't an opportunity that Spunk saw fit to waste. She brought her weapon to air, quickly taking down the right most opponent. X Drag, too, took a shot as her counterpart's gun fired into the air. However, both enemy and killjoy missed the shot, leaving Spunk to clean to mess with another quick shot to the Drac's skull.

Scoffing, Spunk pulled her body from the sand as she holstered her gun. "Nice shot," she mocked, although her glance was far more reprimanding of her sister's mistake than her tone had been. Spunk clutched her wounded right shoulder to stop the blood that flowed. "You'd better be glad I can shoot with both arms or you'd be dusted. X, you need to pay more attention."

"Oh, like you haven't missed a shot before," X groaned as she turned away from her sister and her wound. Digging through the militant satchel she carried, eager hands finally sought what she quested. X tossed the item, a tattered cloth, long of enough to coil about the wounded shoulder. And, so, Spunk did wrap her wound, to later account for the damage and mend what could. "If you'd just-"

Spunk stopped in the middle of tying her ward and offered her sister a cold glare, "don't even finish that sentence. If I hadn't gone in there and took the front of that battle you'd be gone for sure." Tension was heavy as the two stared each other down. X eventually broke the gaze, turning her head with a stubborn huff.

After the eldest finished tightening the garment with restriction to diminish the blood flow, she approached the fallen bodies to ensure they were not only gone but to also scavenge for anything that could come of use to the duo. It was hard life, and they had to survive somehow.

[Storeh]

There was something hinting in the air, spiraling like hissing convulsions from the ground to the heavens that first caught his attention. When the eyes where draw to a specific spot without the subjection of particular rhyme or reason, Monster Corps usually took to investigating after a few restless moments contemplating the meaning of such a thing, drinking in the lasting fog of the smoke the blanketed the shimmering rank of the atmosphere. After the collection of thoughtful blinks, the man quickly took to a crouch, summoning the thinnest of blades concealed in the leather edgings of his boot, sticking it into the compacted earth as easily as though slicing through water. Without word or composure, he pressed his ear to the handle, listening to the far off footfalls of rocked battle, something which he tasted bitterly on the back of his tongue. It was coming from the east, from the next zone over more likely than not, for he was already walking the border as it was wearings it's most thin. Smoothly, with a swift and singular motion, he pulled it from its place with the traces of lingering gesture, sheathing it once more in place as he rose to his full height, peering through the pollution toward the sweltering horizon.

Well, if he started off now he could make it there by sundown.

Just in time to see the corpses before the night rendered them frozen then burnt in the tactful bakery of morning. It was something that drew him, like a compass needle to the ever-slipping direction of north. For a moment he stood in contemplation of this, a battle present with relaxed composure as he weighed his options easily. A herald and revered bringing of treason if he was to find other killjoys like himself. But if they had been so eagerly ghosted by the spooks, then it would just be a waste of energy and method. Sighing, he dropped the smoking end to the ground, crushing it under his boot and turning to return to the bike he had stolen a few days prior to this event.

Hell, if he was to jump to conclusions, death could be one of them.

He liked his options at this point though, maybe the finding of survivors was better than wandering the desert with only the sun for a companion. Right? Depends on how your sliced it, for demons could also be useful company when you thrust yourself into the correct mind set. He slung himself over the bike, cranking it and whipping it to the east with a measured maneuver. A spray of dust and the whining of the engine was all that was left to be given to the expanse of barren wasteland and the silence. Spread out before and behind him like a never-ending canvas. Blank and unwelcoming, even to the weathered wayfarer.

Chances are good that this is my burial ground.

The wind claimed the already tousled locks of his ebony hair, the sun beating down on his back, the jacket that was marked as his own rippling slightly with the swiftness at which he was traveling. Monster liked the freedom of the open road, that much was true, but was also never ungrateful to make it to his final destination in one piece, for it was the little things that were so taken from granted. Surviving another second without the cushioning of blows was one of them. There was the intake and exhale of the breath, the wondering of the destination itself as the border was beseeched and silhouettes lined the scope of the horizon, distorting together as though in one singular motion. Yet Monster knew better than to think himself so lucky. If it was an exterminator, a member of the Scarecrow unit, he was more than screwed.

Again the odds were not stacked in his favor.

He was pressing his luck just by being in this sector of the zones, and he knew it, for the radiation was even worse in this place, abandoned stations and aid was few and far between. Plus, it was a regular patrol. Any killjoy out here was more than a sitting duck. They were already baked, fried, and served with a side of 'Oh Shit'. Monster slowed his pace as the two apparitions floating on the horizon divided into two separate entities. Exactly the cue he had been waiting for, then. The bike slammed to a collected halt, spewing a cloud of dust as the man made a swift, if not informal, dismount, drawing both his katana and his ray gun with the swipe of his hands. Finger curled and grip was steady. Leveled was his aim, right dead center between the two. He heeded the surroundings without expression. Contemplation.

One false move and that's that.

Concentration, the littering of Drac bodies stacking high in his favor, though who knows what agents the pair of them would turn out to be. They were female, but that is all he had the time to measure, for with the flickering of motion, he dare not move. Not even the wind seemed to blow as the sun looked onward. With a sword in one hand, and a gun in the other, he wondered to himself what the fates had decided. They better act quick before one of their patience ran out. Monster would not be taken alive. Dead was an option open for discussion.

[sibber-chow]

As the opposing form rode in, the heaped forms had been completely stripped of the few articles that could provide any assistance to the duos journey; a few scraps of clean cloth ripped from their backs had been stuffed into X's satchel along with a handful of batteries and miscellaneous scraps. And, one gun was swiped from the group and tucked into the opposing side of Spunk's belt. However, the new found toy wasn't allowed to remain resting for long. Another form had managed itself far closer than was comfortable for either twin - but most specifically Spunk Revolver.

The eldest's eyes narrowed as she clutched a gun in either hand and approached the brute in the distance. She could see clearly the form wasn't like her fallen foes to the flank, but that certainly didn't mean he could be trusted - especially with weapons clearly indicated at her and X. Adrenaline still coursing through her veins accompanied by an already quick temper kept her from being entirely rational and approaching with any signs of submission. Instead, each hand raised for a clear shot at the assumed enemy. Her better arm targeted him square in the skull as the injured arm strained to hold position at his abdomen. She'd go down firing if he didn't back down.

That is, unless X got in the way, which was her exact intention. The blonde was headed for their counterpart with arms raised to the air, her gun resting safely in it's holster. A string of curses slithered from under Spunk's breath as her sister stood in direct line of her shot. Sliding the stolen gun back into place at her side, the elder twin warily followed her sister. She had no intention of taking any submissive stature, her personal gun still remaining hot in hand and repositioned to take a shot if it came to it.

"Killjoy, I assume? We don't mean harm," X assured as she stopped a few yards off of Monster's position. Amused gaze traveled towards her more cautious sister before waving a dismissive hand. Spunk didn't pay any heed to her sister's gesture, never lowering her gun. Eyes never even went to their counterpart's face, simply studying his hands for the slightest hint that he was going to make a foul move. Anxiety was high with her sister's complete abandon of guard.

"We don't mean harm if you don't," Spunk corrected.

X Drag rolled her eyes before stepping into her sister's shot. For whatever reason, she seemed absolutely certain that this stranger meant no threat and it peeved Spunk to no end. "So, lower the weapons, hm, big guy," she chirped with a jesting tone and wink that did nothing to comfort Spunk about the situation.

[Storeh]

Inspeculations of drawing natures lifting the heavens from his shoulders, the voices mixing like cellophane smothering a restless child, the nightmares speaking for themselves as each strand of sentence was turned over once or twice to be prove savory or otherwise unwanting. As though each of those pronunciations from the lips where there to drive nails under his skin, a pin to the heart of denial, though for the moment he had reached an inner blockage with himself. There was the drawing natures of the kindred kind, the voice that told him these where no agents of deception, though he had been otherwise wronged and deceived before. Yet for the moment this was their own turf and not his own, being taken at a clear disadvantage, as well as without doubt for the picking of a loosing side. Monster was in the market for good news, and the even utterings of bad was not to settle lightly in his stomach. There were really only two choices, and the longer he stood the more it would seem unwanting of either, the margins slowly laxing until they were thinner than any ice in this place.

What are the chances of a good day in hell.

With swift motions, as though to rid himself of such things before they sought to change his own mind the sharpened edge of katana was returned to its rightful place at his belt, as well as the ray gun, barrel still gleaming in his mind's eye. The posture he had taken changed slightly, into one of more relaxed fashion, though he did not bother the venture closer to the pair, eyes choosing with finality to take in their distorted blur of features, something easier than expected with the lowering of the sun behind his own back. Depending on the perspective, of course. It was the most amazing thing, however, he had seen in many months, or at least by his estimate. They were twins, that much even Monster could tell, though the barest of showing of personality marked them black and white at best. Even chances for a masquerade. A chill raced through the edges of his spin, though Monster could not be certain as for why. He tore his eyes from the silhouettes with a pacing measure, looking down on the bodies of the fallen Dracs with an inner scowl for good measure.

It is not something of shame when one hates the nameless.

When he finally broke the motionless state that had settled over him like a dampened cloth over face, he moved not toward the sisters who continued to speculate with a trained eye. Instead, he chose to head for the nearest corpse, strides swayed with usual swagger, mind clicking with the reminder of idleness in gait. Peering down at the vampiric monster without the bat of an eye, he turned the corpse over with the edge of his boot, moving the clothing aside also with the footwear to inspect the killing shot. Killjoys, just like himself, with the proper wear to boot with it all. He shook his head at the wonder of the massacre beneath him, moving to the next body in search, ignoring the presence for they had nothing to give. They were alive, which was splendid with all things considered, but the man was untrained with dealing with others, and hated to waste words as well as manners when backed to a corner. If they found this unsuiting, they themselves could leave him to his fashion. If they stood where they were, he could not care less. Monster mattered little to wasted thoughts, and for the moment they were better used elsewhere.

A man more liking of corpses than of the beating type.

The last of the fallen caught his attention, the shimmering of metallic chain under the standard issue of wear enough to snare the hare as he crouched down. Parting the splashed uniform of crimson with the long teasing of his fingers, he soon took in his hand a dog tag, stained with life blood as well. It was not to bear good news, just the opposite it would seem. Monster's face fell into a mask of indifference, the edges still twisted with something more or less. 'Fuck.' The word parted his lips on the breath of a sigh, a tiredness edging into his voice that seemed to remain unshaken. His fingers curled around the ornament of indentity, and with a clean movement he snatched it from the neck, it breaking off with a snapping of sound. His head hung for a moment before he rose to his full height, looking down on the body with a slight pain in his eyes. He pocketed the tag, not bothering to wipe his fingers clean of the blood. With another shake of his head, the man turned from the scene, wondering why these things only happened to him.

[sibber-chow]

Remaining weapons slowly lowered to the eldest's side upon the man's similar gesture. Yet, a wariness was constant in her gaze with his each passing movement, with each breath even. She had seen many a seeming friendly face enter their lives to turn into a source of betrayal and suffering for the duo, and for this very reason, it would have been foolish that she'd grown quick to dismiss his threat. Concentrated orbs still refused to find the face of their counterpart, instead close gaze, with the hint of a morbid curiosity, was placed upon the katana nestled at his belt. The weapon posed a new threat, a close range device that could prove a quick death. With a gun, the twins had even odds against the stranger, but she saw little defensive opportunity from the blade. The answer was simple, they just wouldn't get too close and take their odds at the barrel of a gun should it come to the matter.

As could be expected, the mindset of Spunk's twin was of complete opposition. X's eyes were narrowed as distaste boiled for the social habits of their newest encounter. He was likely as bad, if not worse, with people as Spunk!

And, as Spunk paid little heed to the man's progression towards the bodies, except to be aware of any possible attack, it was all that could cross X's mind. The blonde watched with interest as the killjoy observed their, well, Spunk's most recent handiwork. She could hardly understand what was so captivating about the fallen corpses over company of the flesh and breath. As X looked on with interest and frustration, Spunk had removed her bandana, using it to dab the sweat from her brow before stuffing the garment into her pocket. As her fingers slipped from the pocket, eyes didn't catch sight of her sister any longer. The eldest became stiff in posture, sight soon finding their target, and she was much closer to their 'companion' than Spunk would have preferred.

In spite of having no more personal interest with the particular killjoy and the possible threat that came with any stranger in the zones, Spunk followed after her sister's trail - if only to assure the blonde didn't find harm from her venture.

"Oh, don't go out of your way to be so friendly, really," X huffed, vocals laden heavily with sarcasm as she forced her way in path of his gaze. Offering him a smile, the stubborn broad attempted a hand at friendship once more. "You look like you could use a good meal and night's rest," she commented.

Spunk quickly realized where this was going and decided to intervene, while remaining a few feet further than her sister - who obviously didn't care for the concept of boundaries. "Shut up, X." She knew her sister was wagering her way in to get a ride back into the next zone; the younger's wandering gaze at the bike was a large enough hint. Their current place of residence, if you could call it that, was several more days by foot. Spunk had to admit that the idea wasn't half bad, although she wasn't entirely certain his ride would support the three for the journey, and she certainly didn't care for the company. Pride wanted her to abandon the topic, but idle gaze found the horizon and dread of what the radiation would do to them in their long journey by foot, spurred her onward.

"Can you give us a ride a bit deeper into the next zone?" Her question was far more concise than X's would have been; something she assumed most would appreciate. She wouldn't ask him to make the whole journey, but any bit helped their case. They'd die, one way or another, out here - she wished to prolong the death for as long as possible, though.

"We can offer you a meal and a place to stay, if that helps the case," X offered, although her voice showed signs of bitterness for her sister's interruption.

Spunk merely rolled her eyes, doubting a can of Power Pup and broken down mattress were much to sweeten the deal. "Yeah," she drawled out, voice lacking enthusiasm for the offer. Spunk's regret was quickly growing for making the journey so far out in the first place, especially since it brought about the ruin of their normal transportation - a trike that lay in shambles a few miles deeper in the zone.

The eldest's brown eyes finally met with Monster's for the first time, yet there was no spark or look of hopefulness like in her X's. Rather, the gaze was flat and waiting for whatever his sentencing would be for such a query. Spunk would gauge their next step from there.

[Storeh]

There was nothing even a shot away from mind blowingly spectacular about the offer that was laid before the man, a barely threaded skeleton seated and carried about upon a silver platter. Trivialities, may they be rested at present, seemed to taste ashen on the tip of his tongue, the weight of words heavily pressing against the chambers of his mind. As though there was something set aside for him even for a moment to take into consideration. Genteel woman meant nothing for the killjoy, especially when bringing to light all the arrant civilities that they tipped hats to. Still there was not a word of desecration to pass the sanctity of his lips, nothing to add bitter feeling to the air he continued to breathe. With a fair nod of his head and the blink of a trained eye, Monster decided it was in the grand scope of things inconsequential to the future, in both cases. If he did not help him, he would remain wholly intact and unchanged, as he had for a large portion of his live. However, if he did help them, all that would be wasted was a bit of stolen gas. Nothing more or less, save maybe a scrap of thought here or there.

It wasn't like he was on a particular journey or the like.

Still his vocabulary lay in ruins on his tongue, not pressing farther into use or institutional cases as the man turned for the moment to study the scope of the horizon, the broad back of the devil, measuring the distance there from the sun, for the nights would bring things far worse than just the chilled temperatures. Bowing his head for another second, he made a silent attempt at prayer, fingers twitching slightly from the lack of movement they had grown unaccustomed to. In a cautious sling of movements, he lowered his body into a crouch, unsheathed the smallest of his blades, and casting a lingering glance at the more heedful of the two. Sticking it with fluidity into the compacted earth, he pressed his ear to the handle, waiting for the moment, focused on the task. After several soundless passings, it was replaced at his boot heel, allowing him to then rise without speculation for farther reinforcements.

We are but pawns an elaborate game of chess.

Lingering movements carried him to the position where had previously abandoned the motorbike, propping it back to a standing position with a slight tinge of relief that it was larger than the standard issue you found. Hardly, but that would do. It had been always said that every little bit helped, and this case was proving no different. Propping it upright, he turned back to the ladies who seemed to be waiting quite patiently despite withheld complaints and other kindred form of pleasantries, as well as the lack of speaking by himself. Speech was in the nature of things he dwindled quite idly with, but also took quite seriously, not one to run his mouth or waste his thoughts when they would neither be heeded nor appreciated. His blinks divided the moments, and he found himself feeling quite wronged at the present, for he had not a cigarette lit between his lips. Yet he wished not to spur farther annoyance nor throw fodder at his own demons.

A personal choice of restraint that would be lost on present company.

The ball of radiation most called kindly the sun seared at his flesh with true intent, keen on burning him to an ash without a spark in his eye. Mentally, he shrugged at such a thing, not allowing the sweat trickling in slow lines from his brow to farther impede this mission so set upon him. Squinting against the light of the rays, he checked the situation once more, trying to balance the odds of his own survival. Now, he had another glass ball, or soul if taken so lightly, to juggle. If he was so reckless, throwing them so high...would the one that harbors his own...shatter to pieces on the baked ground?

[sibber-chow]

Easy to predict for her cautious nature, Spunk grew rigid as their counterpart clutched a small blade. Her own fingers itched to grasp at one of the guns nestled at her side, yet she refrained. Brown eyes stared back into Monster's, reluctant to admit the longing to trust the owner of such a gaze. Something about those piercing eyes forced her into a momentary comfort of posture and mind, but she wouldn't allow the reassurance to last, rationalizing it just wasn't a smart move to trust any zonerat they'd only just encountered. The past had given her reason not to trust ones she'd known even. And, He'd certainly given no reason to be trusted, in spite of not attacking them from the get-go. This decided, she placed a hand securely on the grip of her gun although it remained holstered. Pain began to throb in her opposing shoulder, blood continuing to seep out in slow trickles despite it's bandaged state. Despite the pain, and the sweat beading upon her brow again, the eldest showed no signs of discomfort. Rather it was impatience that came of these trying factors accompanied by his silence. Irritation was growing evident by the scowl upon Spunk's dark painted lips.

Her sister was wary of the rage that tempted to surface upon her sister's being. Spunk hardly ever went out of the way to be particularly nice, but X knew the rage was something other than her sister's cantankerous personality. It had been three days since they were last in the safety of their shelter and just as long since the elder had partaken of her vice. Such span did cruel things with Spunk's mind, and X realized it was best she step in to try and ease the tension of silence lest things turned volatile.

With a few casual steps, she moved to impede Spunk's line of sight and range closer proximity beside Monster and his bike. With the same disdain for caution and personal space, the younger rested an elbow upon his shoulder. Eyes peered directly upon his own, not quite as effected by the intensity of his dark orbs as her sister had been. "You know, when you don't talk - it makes it a little harder to read what you are saying, hm. So, am I to take the silence as a yes?" She offered him a smile, although it was shrouded beneath her brightly rendered bandana. X was hopeful that their newest acquaintance, who she only now realized was nameless to her, would abide for sake of her sister's dwindling sanity by deprivation of vice and overexposure to radiation. More importantly, she felt it simply important that she step between the two before her sister managed to get too hot with the fellow.

Spunk was fuming now, and X was quite aware of this. However, she knew the anger was directed at her rather than their acquaintance - and Spunk was far less likely to turn volatile at X than she was this stranger.

[Storeh]

Temperament partaking in the volley of threads spanning the thoughtless silence was a calculation Monster had neglected as of yet to take into his own consideration, for there was a wanting balance for institution that neither himself nor the others could be granted. Silence was more than a play on words, for articulation could be gifted without so much as thought, a silver tongue seeking to win one over when the man himself could not be pardoned to recall the last time measured words had passed lips. Actions were another to be found within manner, dark edged eyes ringed with questions yet the touch of another sent shivers down his spine. Usually in this place touch meant the swiftest of fates, yet here this woman was borderlining the tightrope as asking why he was paying his cards so close to his chest. There was a joker missing from a deck somewhere, and there was nothing spectacular about the touch in itself, save for the mild branding of discomfort it warranted from the Killjoy unasked.

Timely justification to circle wonders and ask.

Despite wishing to shift under such speculation and in light of contact, his expression faltered into the haunting hints of a small, corning at the very edges of his pale lips, as though an insinuation for pardoning oneself. 'Forgive me, I don't usually partake in conversation, for death would follow if I did.' The words were said in low, voice not cracking though from the persistent lack of use one would usually be declaring otherwise. A joking manner, to jest, underlining the tones with arrant flare of honesty. 'My name is Monster Corps, and I will assist you.' His head tilted slightly with the growing inch of the smile, pulling crookedly onto his face as the tone never changed, wondering if socialization would be as effortless as he once thought. Time would give answer to these inquires, but for now he gaze was settled onto that of the girl popping the bubble of space he had wished to grant as his own, again he stilled the thoughts of shrugging her off.

Manners are for the old, played, and disrespectful.

For the moment his mind clicked at the social cues and gestures that he normally used in fights to depict the actions of another. How long had it been, then? Since the fall had occurred and he had left that which fell into dust in the embrace of shadowed shade. The mind gave no answer save for the blankest of slates, something he still was finding unsatisfying for his questions. There was no surfacing of emotion to hint at such thoughts, and though there was the itch of knowing to not know, he did not show it outwardly for a gesture. Simply, he waited, noting the tinge of blood on the earth and the dampened bite of body on the air. Settling through the bones like ashes falling to the ground. As though he could be given a smile or a name, when such things haunted the earth with walking frights. Nightmares to kindle the need for salvation, yet offering nothing. Today Monster had found two killjoys, but one of them was an disturbance, and the other....was far to intriguing and volatile to kindly forget.

Give me a name, a way, and a fashion.

Dampening the mood with a blink to the horizon, it was the settling of sickness on the rise as he reached into his pocket for the cigarette. If the two insisted on wasting the hours of daylight with their own ways of secluded silence, it was not for him to deny or divulge. Instead, with the words laying hollow with the spanning of silk, he pulled his lighter with the stick in his lips and lit it with the reckless abandon for how the others might wish for such things. Cancer sticks were common place, though still harder to come by than the man would like. For the moment in wait he watched the smoke contort in idealistic fashion, contorting into something he was useful in remembering. His dark bolted eyes followed the billows of smoke, seeing the relics of a past smoldering raising it's head with cries on his breath. He exhaled as though to stoke the fires, the moment still dragging as though now time, too, was the enemy. Not for a second did he care what they saw. It was in his own eye that the illusion rang true.

[sibber-chow]

There was the slightest hint of smile upon the folds of her bandana, although one could never be sure. Head tilted slightly, unaware of his discomfort and perhaps not utterly concerned. Pushing boundaries was never something new to X. His words summoned a light chuckle of some twisted amusement or perhaps the simple, unwarranted product of a personality far to optimistic to be wandering the zones. Without a moment to think about the matter, the laughter had ceased only to trumped by action - a light embrace about the stranger's neck. "Ah, so he does speak and such good words!"

Visibly, understandably, Spunk was uncomfortable with the matter at hand. Her teeth were gritted, eyes narrowed, and rage still held with her sister as target. "X," hissed a warning from dark lips - the simple calling enough to set the blonde in her place and back a few paces from the figures space who she'd invaded so recently. However, there was not a sign of remorse for her act despite how quickly she'd responded to the chastisement.

"Simmer down," accompanied a quick roll of the eyes. Focus was back upon Monster after the small disagreement by both sets of eyes; one set far gentler than the other. "Oh, how rude of us to already ask a favor without even introducing ourselves," X mused. "I'm X Drag."

Spunk shifted weight after finding an elbow lodged into her ribs at her initially silent response. A thin brow raised, eying her sister with increasing irritability. "Spunk Revolver." Eyes once again met with the countering Killjoy and there was a part of her that wished to at least offer some gratitude for his gesture, yet her own demons, ones of the internal fashion, left her either too prideful or too irate to offer such niceties. Rather, she watched as he lit a cigarette to place between idle lips. She didn't seem the least bothered by the spirals of smoke that polluted the air. There were far worse things out there than a little smoke - she knew that, they all did.

As they stood, Spunk felt a cooling sensation tremble through her body. Eyes dilated in either realization or something more. The cold that overcame her was not the cause of the fallen sun for it still stood tall enough upon the horizon to burn her flesh. Nor was it of her body's natural perspiration. A sudden impatience came with the goosebumps that found way upon her flesh. She wished to end such idle stance before illness were to farther take her. Yet, the words, such request did not slip from her lips for she knew well anything that came audibly from her lips at this point would be a foul demeanor. She could do nothing to jeopardize Monster's aid, despite how reluctant she'd been to ask for it to begin with.

To conceal the dread surfacing upon her being, Spunk turned her back to the pair until it was time for their departure. Trembling hands busied themselves with tussling at her multi-colored locks that were heavily dusted from several days amongst the wilderness. X didn't seem surprised by her sister's reaction for she was aware of her vices and the illness that came with. There was a slight burden in the younger's gaze as she watched her twin, although she refuted to bring it up. There would be no point in it spite to enrage the elder.

Finally pulling the bandana from her face, X followed in suit of her sister to wipe the sweat from her brow. The colorful garment was then tucked into the satchel strapped over a slender shoulder. Patience was in her gaze as she awaited cue that they should leave. A thin smile etched it's way onto her lips to cover the discomfort of her sister's situation. And, it was not long until the facade was reality. Lips twitched to speak, but she refrained knowing well Spunk would be vengeful if she prolonged the start of this journey anymore than was truly necessary.

[Storeh]

With the ways of the world as cryptic and cradled as they were, it was hardly a guess that one could choose to ignore regretful or plight-bringing circumstance, even if it was shuddering before them in a loop of a glaze. Cloudlessly, Monster witnessed the unexplainable with a hushed demeanor, knowing full well that the snappings of binding tides would be rushed already as it was, his skin crawling slightly with the lingering traces of touch. Head tilted slightly, glancing over his shoulder for the sightless as well as a measure to the soundlessness, before he reached into the bag sheltered at the very end of the bike, rather haphazardly strung to the thing in a way that would otherwise warrant raised brows if people still cared of such things. Thus, in his grasp he produced a pair of very simply constructed gasmasks, courtesy of BL/Ind themselves for his use as Monster then pleased. Very carefully, he moved forth with the hopes of handing the two to X Drag, though opted out of such a move to place them on the top of a large rock that protruded from the barren earth like a tombstone. His eyes racked the form of Spunk Revolver, trying not to let the pity show from the depths of his eyes. One way or another, all you met out in this place was plagued by something, having their own parade of skeletons hidden in the closet, just waiting to topple out at the slightest of nudges. Monster was not the type to nudge the problems out of others, but neither was he one to judge others when such problems did present themselves. It was human nature to have something wrong with oneself. Now more than ever.

To say that he in himself was flawless was entirely laughable.

Without the heed to farther disregard the facts that had led to the union of the three, he swung his leg over the side of the bike, taking his seat with the cigarette still left to smolder between pale lips. He disregarded it for the moment, waiting for the pair to join him, in any manner they saw fit, before he chose to start the bike. Who knows how long it would be before he could refill on the precious gas. Though it was stolen, he was going to make it last as long as possible. This particular one had been altered slightly already, the tank larger than most, so the worrying was left to the disadvantaged. If anything, he would have few qualms with disposing of it in the zones when it proved useless. His eyes once more traveled to his female counterparts, taking the time to imbed their faces into the scraps of memory he still had left in tact. X Drag and Spunk Revolver, sisters of the like, more likely than not twins by their pose and composure. Or lack there of. Manners of perspective shared.

What significance does this meeting hold?

Monster was one hardly to believe in much, for history had taught him otherwise. Though the mind could be void and therefore wiped of intruding thoughts or recalling of revisited events, there was always the lingering notion of feelings that swan in the cess pool that could be taken as a mind nowadays. He was more cautious of things that he cared to be, more disregarding than was healthy. Not one to trust in mirages, illusions quickly made things out to be rather friendly. Strangers were best left to their own devises, if helped. That was one of the reasons when he came upon the ranks of those who called themselves Killjoys, he was cautious to leave them in peaceful tact. The thought of the dog tag came to him as though to sigh once more. They meant something as to aid of his past, though Monster could never tell what it was. The faces behind the masks always sparked some sort of picture in the mind, but never would be taken otherwise. The fluttering of rememberence, though it was always too late for questions. All were dead before he realized what he had done...or what others had done. Even if he caught one of such owners alive, he knew they were less than likely to be amiable. Monster turned the key in the ignition, and started the bike.

[sibber-chow]

X was decidely, although reluctantly, quiet. Words were still left unspoken of her sister's situation in spite of noticed gaze directed at Spunk. The matter was something both preferred to avoid conversation about, and since he hadn't pressed the matter, there seemed no need to verbally acknowledge it. Questioning gaze watched as Monster dug for something in his bag. Attention was taken to the masks, the familiar BL/ind logo stamped upon them. It was no shock to find BL/ind articles in a Killjoys possession. What choice had they but to accept items from the enemy - of course, accept was simply a klepto's coinage for theivery. Eyes went to her sister as she accepted the article placed out. Spunk had no response to offer as she turned back to the pair, nor did she seek the mask as he sister had. Her notice was far more concerned with movement to mount the bike. Finally. If patience was a virtue; Spunk could hardly be considered virtuous. Then again, who was these days?

A deep exhalation was taken as relief flooded her body in mere knowledge that they were one step closer to this journey being over leaving only her needs to be tended to. Was it even a need? More a selfish indulgence. Yet, the sickness - a wrenching in her gut, a cold perspiration led her thoughts to stray otherwise... to believe it was something of dire need. She denied nothing of her addiction's hold, never one to say she could quit at any point, not that she had such intentions. She knew it had become such a way of life that it was as necessary as food, water, and shelter to her livlihood. The mere thought, the joyous longing that would be fulfilled allowed a slight wave of ease to flood Spunk's form. Taking that, attention turned to her sister, who she helped board the bike whether it a necessity for the aid or not. There was no indication that she might allow her sister a chance at delaying this any further with familiar antics.

The moment her sister had been situated, Spunk too straddled the bike, only barely able to find placement despite the over-sized standing. Bikes just weren't meant for three. A scowl crossed painted lips, curious if they should have just jacked the bike from the Killjoy. That was merely the deprivation talking, surely... she had no interest in wronging someone who had yet to prove worthy of such callous nature.

As the engine rumbled, Spunk bitterly nudged her sister to hold on. Surprise and disdain found the elder's face as her sister took the cue to clutch Monster's waist. There was a quiet sigh as she supposed there was not much other option, yet, she did wish her sister was a little more respectful of other's space if only for the sake of her own safety. Her own hands sought to grasp as loosely as possible upon her sister's waist. Invasion of space, even with kindred blood, wasn't so easily managed. "If you head straight, you'll hit a road that routes East and straight past our... residence. The further East you could get us would be... appreciated." She spoke loud enough to overpower the rumble of the bike, although her tone was a forced calm, trying not let her vice's control get the best of her.

[Storeh]

The erasing imagery of the bike's overpowering rumble swam with welcome contentment into his ears, flooding lower into the sections of his brain as though to embrace the dulling of mind it brought, or more so, the dulling of insistent company. With the directions blueprinted and outlined within the dutiful chambers of function, the bike lurched forth at his command, seeming to take the added load with stride as Monster pressed it to a maintainable speed for this so distance of a journey. The wind whipped into the dark threads of his hair, with enough keen resemblance to that of fingers for the man to shiver slightly, though the vibrations of the bike were more than enough to mask such a thing. Unease was dissipated at the motion, no longer was the man able to feel the tug of the woman X's arms about his waist, something which normally would otherwise warrant some sort of diverse reaction, depending on mood and current level of guard. The other was becoming more irritable, something almost obnoxiously clear to his perception, enough to create a grievance. Monster himself could only but hope that her patience would extend as so far until their chosen journey was over, though for some reason he doubted it. Whatever the woman did, however, it would not warrant much of a reaction, for he himself had more than a cared share of experience dealing with those suffering from the plethora of addictants readily available to zone rats.

There is nothing you can do but hope for the best.

And keep an even temper, he reminded himself steering the compliant motorbike onto the stretch of road the was seemingly endless to the untrained eye, swimming upon a shimmering sea of vastness. The familiarity of the place was borderline daunting, enough to make him swallow harshly the dryness of his throat, knowing full well he had traveled this road before. When was the next case, but everything was but a blur when the days stretched forth limitlessly in mind. Focusing on the passing of lines into his mind, the background was filled with the resolution of soundlessness, but for the hum of the engine as they sped along. Monster kept a conscious eye upon both the speedometer, and the gas gauge, trying to clock usage at most times when he cared to do so. Mostly, he mind mumbled to itself, whispering fragments of memories that held not a strand of significance nor meaning, something that did wonders to improve the level of his mood.

Patience is a virtue gifted to those with no other choice.

It was a strange enough thought, though not as common place as he would have registered, as most of the little things that flung themselves from his head where, like the lyrical reminders of songs he had once sung, all else forgotten but that he chose to hum. Under his breath, he sang such things, dark eyes leveling with the scope of the sunlight as it was drained from the colorless sky, like the leaking of dark paints against that which was already colorful. Highlights to be lingered with the mind, yet forgotten in the next moment as it all began to drain and pass. The world was naught but a smudge to the heavens, and the lives meant even less than an ant farm to a god's wraith or wonder. Pondering designated remittance with each labored moment that slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. Maybe he too was ill, sick from the radiation, the sun poisoning his skin, and the pollution settling in his lungs. Perhaps his mind was lost to the fortunes and the planets that once had names and feelings. Yet the dull pounding of a heart, illusion or not, seemed to restrain him to the live. The endless cycle of lifting and pulling.

What I wouldn't give just to wake up.

Dreams where distorted into nightmares, yet the imagination was surprisingly cruel to what it would and would not conjure up. It had gifted him on this day both good and bad fortune, though you would know not which was which, neither would he. Looming in the growing shadows, as time passed with trickling streams, was the building he knew to be their residence. How so? The road would curve and turn into the next route, disappear into the bordering zone just a few miles upward. It was odd that he remembered, but he dare not linger as he brought the bike into a smoother gait, the persistent whine of the engine edging lower until it was a quiet purr, pulling out onto the dirt once more with the skidding stop of wheels. Much more harshly sounding than one would feel, or witness. The turning of key to hush the notes, and the shaking of head to denounce the moments once more. He had made it all the way to their place, something he would have thought rather unlikely. not impossible, but improbable at best. A chill passed through his spine.

[sibber-chow]

The tremors of the motorbike, the wind toying with multi-colored locks, the sounds of nothing but an engine's whine calmed the sharp-edged nerves. Indications of illness faded temporarily with the calm, her mind distracted from ailment and annoyance. Even as the wind began to harshly tug at her tresses as they came unwrapped from their tie, Spunk seemed less bothered; not that there was a still moment or wandering eye to notice such release. Her eyes closed as grip remained tight upon her sister's sides, and she felt her mind drift to nothing in particular, nothing of importance, yet nothing of burden.

Sudden awakening from mind's euphoria came as the shift of gears and whine came to notice. A curse slithered from beneath her lips, hidden behind even the softened roar of the motorbike. It had not felt like they had been in motion for long at all, but to her surprise, a large, familiar building took her attention. They'd made it home, already? Discomfort plagued her, despite the relief she should have felt. As the bike stopped, so returned the overwhelming pressure of her craving, her need. There was no hesitation for Spunk in dismounting the bike, her blood pumped to rush on, leave the two where they stood to allow her her fix. Forced composure controlled the craving, instead standing tall and in place at side of the vehicle as she watched her sister dismount. Hands sought to tussle the hair atop of her head, now loose strands enjoying the freedom to coil over her shoulders as wavy tendrils. Eyes traveled towards Monster once more, a seriousness, yet sincerity in the brown orbs as she spoke unfamiliar, uncomfortable words, "thank you." Her voice showed her wariness far more than anything of her visual demeanor, weak in tone despite the appreciation she'd hoped to convey.

X wore a smile upon her lips at her sister's words and then at Monster. "Oh, but you must join use for a meal, hm? You must be hungry." She reminded of her offered reward, eager for the company. The blonde had never been as comfortable with the loneliness of this life as her twin.

"At the very least, I suppose we owe that much," her words were not as enthusiastic as her counter's, though neither were they reluctant as might have been expected. Spunk deemed this man worthy enough to at least let some of her guard down, and she knew that, for whatever reason, it made her sister a bit happier to be in the company of others if only for a little while. Yet, she did not remain still and staring as X did to pressure the Killjoy any further. With other concerns to tend to, she turned her back to the pair, heading away.

The building - a church standing tall amongst the rubble of what used to be a community, beacon of hope for many, bitter irony in Spunk's view - did not seem her destination. It was far too obvious a place of refuge as the only building remaining in liveable condition within area. Instead, gait took her further to what remained of an old general store - a foundation of wooden boards, fallen support beams, and one remaining brick wall. Beneath the loose floor boards was a hidden entrance - a shelter beneath the rubble likely built before the Helium wars that had decimated this town.

Prying the boards apart, the female slid through the hole it left. She was careful to mind her feet as she landed, the first two steps into the dank chamber gone. Idle gaze looked to the entrance, not moving herself more than a few steps down. She waited for her sister and the possibility of this evening's companion to enter so that she could seal off the entrance again.