The sun was burning hot in the sky, and the sand scorched beneath them, as always, but Nux couldn't be more thrilled as the wind tore past them. His car roared, leaping across the dunes after the small pack like an excited wild dog, purring with fine-tuned life, hull shined, Lancer posts filled… their first real Mission and he was erupting with as much enthusiasm as he was blasts of Nitro from his exhaust. After obtaining his position, life had generally returned to normal. There had been a good period of time he had filled with Upgrades, Overhauls and Additions, but his vehicle remained small, light, and fast as a rocket. Now, finally, the call had gone out for his division to do a sweep of the Outer Territories, and the fresh Driver was as roaring to leap into action as the machine he had so painstakingly refurbished.
"We'll be the first to catch 'em! Moment you see movement, Slit! Moment you see a flicker, you say the word!" He screamed up through the sunroof, grinning wide as he pulled ahead of the pack, his own eyes scanning with delight.
For Slit, however, this was just another routine run. He'd been Lancing for a year since his first failure at the Demolition, and now, after the second time, a bitterness sat like stones in his gut. He watched as the motorcycles weaved and sped, kicking up a tall arch of sand behind them. Sand, for as far the eye could see in all directions. The Citadel was swiftly shrinking behind them, and the Wasteland swallowed the War Boys up, long hours passing as the heat of the day grew more intense.
A jackal darted off a distant dune. A rare prize, when it came to what little wildlife still clung to survival, and Slit slapped the roof of Nux's car and signalled the direction.
"What do you see!" the driver called up, and swerved with excitement. A lead! Here they were, first outing together. A fearsome team, no matter what crossed their path! Nux had high hopes for their haul. Perhaps a few new Bloodbags with their own Spare Parts to add to the pile? He didn't see any signs of other vehicles outside of their search party, but Slit had the better vantage point.
"Meat!" Slit barked back. Bloodbags were priceless with the ever-growing ranks of War Boys, but meat...animals...those were delicacies, not to be passed up. And meat required a finer touch than a Lancer's pole. Slit climbed over the top of Nux's Racer with ease, the poles left behind as he braced against the long metal perch at the front of the car, sharp eyes dancing across the dunes until he spotted the grey-brown pelt of the jackal sprinting for its life.
It had been months since Nux had tasted proper meat, and it had only been thanks to Slit he had even tasted that. Jerky was occasionally offered out as a special prize for outstanding performance, but a rarity for even the best of them. Certainly worth a quick detour. He spotted the animal cantering away, hitting the gas to easily catch up with it, all the while keeping half an eye on Slit's balance. The last thing they needed was his Lancer accidentally going under the tires. "YOU GOT IT, SLIT! SHRED IT!"
Slit slid down into a crouch on the small platform of the perch, one hand fisted tight on the pole, while the other dangled, so near to the racing sand he could almost feel the grains. Just a little closer…
The jackal darted, and Slit braced himself for the car to lurch and spin after it, his weight moving keenly against the lean of the vehicle, perfect and practiced and precise. As if he had Lanced for Nux all his life. And that thought made him snarl as they gained on their scrawny prey again, his fingers sharply closing over the skin of its back.
It reeled and shrieked and twisted, sharp teeth punching shallow holes in his arm as it tried to wriggle free. When the tires chewed the sand to a halt, he jumped down from the perch, freeing his knife as he forced the Meat to the ground, pinning it with a fist and his knee to keep it still. It was a swift sort of thing. The blade sinking through the back of the neck, just far enough to sabotage the motor functions, like clipped wires. Still alive, but unmoving, save for the creature's panicked panting and blinking against bits of sand in its eyes. Clean. The Meat would keep warm and fresh for as long as they needed.
"Ooooh, it's a big one!" Nux was beaming as he hopped from the car to investigate their kill, "A Hunter's nerve, that's what you've got" He gave his cohort a firm slap to the back before crouching down to give the animal a tentative touch. "So soft! Good pelt! Could trade some of it for that new fan belt! Like a dancer!" When it was clear the creature wasn't going to bite him, he continued to pet it, revelling in its wiry fur, "No lumps on it! No extra limbs! Good catch! Full-life meat! Serious, thought you were going to fall off there!"
Slit grunted, and snatched the jackal out from under Nux's hand by its ear, ignoring the sharp whines it made. He normally would have basked in the compliments, would have grinned and bragged and boasted. But his mood was sour, and Nux's words wriggled up under his skin. Without a word, he stalked back over to the car, and tied the jackal to the Lancer's perch, ready to rejoin the pack of War Boys.
"Hurry up!"
Nux stood with a scowl, sighing in exasperation. He'd been sullen all day, and Nux was getting tired of it. His bruises were still healing from the beating the older War Boy had given him over the entire situation of the Wheel, and had hoped that would have been the end of it. Apparently it wasn't. Well, life was short for a Half Life. Slit would have to get over it eventually. If this Hunt was any indication, their arrangement was perfect. They had soared together, hadn't they? One machine, many parts. Nux could aim the vehicle like Slit could aim a lance; it was perfect. Well Oiled and Chrome, but Slit seemed intent on ignoring that fact.
Just wait until they find some poor drifter. THEN Slit would see, he'd feel it, victorious and excited for the successful hunt, he'd see, and they could spend the week celebrating.
He pretended the tension didn't exist, the bounce back in his step as he hurried back to the driver's seat, wrapping his hands around the wheel fondly, and once Slit was in position, peeled off to catch up to the others.
But there were no drifters that day. As the hours dragged on, there was nothing but sand, until the sun sagged past the horizon, and the sky grew dark. And Slit's foul mood only got worse with the frustration of a fruitless day, save for the jackal he untied from its post. The others were settling in for the night, and the Meat Slit scored had not escaped their notice.
"Where's that Mother's Milk?" Screwloose grumbled, stretching and flopping back onto the cooling sand, his muscles aching after a full day on his Lancer's perch.
After a day spent on a hot sticky seat, the Drivers were happy to stand and enjoy the chill slowly settling in, and Nux took to pacing to burn off his frustrated energy. He wandered his way across their small camp to join Slit by their car, "We gonna' cut into it tonight?"
"Who needs Milk when there's proper MEAT for the fire?" Hub called over, watching the duo intently.
"I haven't tasted flesh in months! Remember when we lost that Bloodbag? Always pays to know someone in the Tannery." Chirchkey sighed, attention also pulled toward the jackal.
"Well you should've had a sharper eye and got your own," Slit growled, keeping by the car as he drew out his knife to finish the jackal off, draining its blood into a small clay bowl. Nothing wasted. Nothing discarded. And Slit's mouth watered as he dragged the blade down the jackal's belly to open it up and drag out its guts to place in another bowl.
"C'mon, Slit!" Screwloose whined, and hauled up to his knees. "We all had a - VRNN - bad day! There's enough on that dog f-fff-ff-for all of us!"
"Maybe we'd be willing to trade," Nux grinned, crouching beside Slit to watch him tend to the fresh meat in fascination. He'd never seen such big game before. He'd personally never caught anything larger than a spider the size of his fist that had crawled into his boot that one time.
"We?" The body hollowed out, Slit carved lines down the jackal's limbs, and began to peel its pelt. "We're not trading anything."
What they had, they usually shared. That was the code among Brothers. But Slit had no intention of honoring it tonight. It was his kill. His meat. He'd caught it, he'd peeled it, and he would cook and eat it on his own. If the others wanted it, they'd have to take it from his bloody hands.
Nux bristled, brows furrowing as he sat up straight, fists suddenly balling. "I helped catch it! By rights-"
Petrol, who had been pouring out their rations of Milk meanwhile started snickering, which only made Nux flush hotter and his fists ball tighter in embarrassment.
"By rights, you can offer me a trade," Slit snarled, throwing a bladed look at Nux as he finally freed the full pelt from the meat, rubbing the inside against the sand before tying it up and carrying the skinned jackal and bowls to the fire.
Morsov scowled, and tipped back his ration of Milk. "Rotten, Slit. Dishon'rable."
"Shut your face," Slit snapped, and sat down to toss the jackal on the fire.
"I'll trade you a promise not to throw you from my hood next time!" Nux hissed, sitting down heavily in the sand by the makeshift barbecue, giving Slit a good solid shove in the process.
Screwloose muttered to himself, catching the sounds trying to bubble out of his throat and masking them with grunts, a tense quiet falling over the group of War Boys as they all looked hungrily at the cooking flesh, noses filled with meat and blood as Slit moved the bowls over the fire as well.
"You can try," Slit continued, grabbing one of the jackal's limbs to turn it over, keeping a close eye on the little pile of organs, and the blood. "Even you couldn't drive shit enough to land me in the sand."
"You sayin' I drive shit?" Nux snarled, glancing to the other War Boys who were already snickering at the discordance between them. "Who's the shlanger what failed his Wheel tests? You'd just be a spare Lancer without me."
Slit's tongue moved over his teeth, and fussed at the scars of his inner cheeks, chewing Nux's words as if to make them easier to swallow. "Sayin' spare Lancers are below you? Below Boy? Sure are enjoying the smell of your own shit these days."
"Twisting words! I helped catch that thing, by rights it's half mine!" Nux stood again, temper raising as he towered over Slit, looking about ready to kick him into the fire.
"Here," Slit ignored his Brother's rising ire, grabbing the jackal's tail to pull it round, knife slicing through the base of the appendage and down to free the pucker of the anus, and tossed it up at Nux's chest. "Your half."
He scrambled to catch it, but the thing dropped clumsily. Nux's eyes went wide with outrage, glaring down at the offensive thing at his feet. Meat was meat, yes, but the insult was thick in the air, and the other Boys glanced at one another as though taking silent bets who was going to walk away from this discussion. Most nods went toward Slit, but it was Petrol who spoke up, perhaps fueled by Driver Pride. "I saw you two out there. Drive that smooth deserves a leg too, at least."
"Then he can come and try to take it," Slit growled, firelight glinting off his knife as he glared his challenge up at Nux, the air filling with the rich aroma of cooking, congealing blood. He finally stood up, slow and deliberate, annoyed by the inch or so of height Nux had gained on him the past year, putting himself between the Driver and his prize.
Nux's nostrils flared, and he didn't so much as spare a glance at the other Boys before suddenly leaping at his Lancer, the two sent tumbling across the sand in a fit of teeth and snarls. His long legs whipped around until he was on top of Slit, fists flying down at that scarred face. How many times had Slit bested him? Beaten him down? KEPT him down? They were partners. Equals. Brothers. Ever since the wheel had landed in Nux's hands, the other Boy had been insufferable. More So than usual, even, and Nux was utterly sick of it. This insult in front of the rest of the pack had been the final straw.
Slit snarled as they collided, the other Boys sending up hoots and cries as the Brothers exchanged blows. And when Slit landed on his back, hot flashes of pain bolting through his face with Nux's crashing fists, all the toxic resentment boiled over in his gut. His own knuckles slammed into Nux's jaw, the knife still clutched in his hand, leaving a shallow red line in its wake.
"WORTHLESS SHIT!" He spat, struggling beneath Nux, forgetting the fire, the jackal, and the pack of War Boys scrambling to make room.
Nux flinched back at the blow, jaw ringing and vision flashing for a moment before he quickly lunged back into action again. "SELFISH FILTH!" He roared, wincing as the knife caught him, but it was just a graze. Barely through the skin. He swung his fist again, knuckles bloody from catching the metal staples in his cohort's face. "BLIND! BLIND! BLIND!" He punctuated each shout with a fresh blow.
Slit's head fell back into the sand, dizzy and bleeding, but the rest of him still bucked, and the knife in his hand swung down with vicious purpose. It bit deep into Nux's thigh, only to tear back out again, while the Lancer's fist swung sharply for Nux's face.
Nux gave a guttural howl as the knife bit into his leg, sand and grime grinding into his wounds as they rolled, his face still twisted into a furious snarl. They rolled, and though the world spun around them, Slit slammed him down, vengeful fingers coiling around Nux's throat, while the blade's edge hovered dangerously over the younger Boy's eyes.
"I'LL SHOW YOU BLIND, YOU WRETCH! Let's see how good you can drive when I fang you!"
He could feel the heat of the fire just inches from them, but Nux's eyes remained locked on the blade. He wouldn't. He wouldn't dare. They were Brothers- but he couldn't risk it. As the knife came down, Nux threw his head out of the way, blade missing his eyes by just a hair, but bit deep into the bridge of his nose to glance off his cheek. He used the momentum to ram his shoulder into Slit's neck, rolling again as his own hands flew around the Lancer's windpipe, bloodied grip tight as a vice as he snarled, "Not a pup any more, Filth!"
Slit yelped, a strange, ragged sound from imperfect lungs, lost in the chaotic hollers coming from all directions. The pack had been waiting for this. Knew it was a long time coming that Slit's pup might eventually learn to bite the foot that kicked it. And as Nux's hands squeezed off his supply of air, Slit felt the pinpricks of panic sliding up his spine. A rattling hiss spat from between his gritting teeth, thrashing beneath his Brother as his one grey-blue eye grew bloodshot with strain. He swung his arm, but Nux's legs were out of reach. He gripped and clawed at the wrists perched above his throat, to no avail. And every feeble slice of his blade only managed to bite shallowly into the flesh of Nux's side and shoulder, each swing of his arm growing weaker by the second.
His vision dimming, Slit only had breath left for one last growled insult. "Dog….piss…"
"RESPECT!" Nux finally snarled, head cracking down against Slit's skull in a furious headbutt.
A flash of red, then a flood of black. Slit went limp, already at the edge of oblivion from lack of air, the crack of Nux's skull a firm shove over the precipice of unconsciousness.
"RESPECT! RESPECT! RESPECT!" The pack of War Boys chanted, laughing and meeting Nux with claps to his back and rubs to his head, Screwloose spitting on the sand near Slit, while Morsov gave his bloodied face a good kick of sand. The vicious Lizard had finally got his.
Nux, however, was in no mood to celebrate, flinching at their congratulatory touches, and hissing at them threateningly as they closed in for their own additions to the squabble. His wounds ached, but he ignored them, swinging fist and elbow to keep the other War Boys back before he turned to pointedly grab the roasting meat from the fire and ignored the burning in his hands as he bit into the jackal with a growl. Slit didn't want to share? Fine. Nor did Nux. He might have been younger than his partner, but with every passing day he was bigger, smarter, faster. Slit would respect him, or he'd make himself Dead Mundane.
Petrol tentatively reached out a hand, as though begging for a scrap of meat for his support in the ordeal, but all he got was a blistering snarl as the blood-smeared War Boy sat back on Slit's stomach, victoriously devouring the kill as quickly as he dared. The solid food went down heavy and greasy, like a lead fist in his stomach, but he didn't care. It was meat, true proper meat, and by rights it was now all his.
The other Boys skulked a while as they settled around the fire and drank their rations of Mother's Milk, relative peace restored while Slit slept, deep and dreamless.
When Nux had finished his meal, and snapped warnings to the others to not touch what remained, or he'd use Slit's knife himself while they slept, he hobbled his way back to the car to tend to his wounds and collapse in his own exhaustion.
And when Slit finally woke, it was with a throbbing head, and an aching belly, in the chill of night, the fire doused in sand. The pack had bedded down, all draped across car seats or sprawled in on the ground. Slit scowled, grumbling as he struggled to sit up, only to jerk and roll at the feeling of something long and snake-like slithering across his chest.
The jackal's tail flopped off of him, that insulting pucker still attached. All was silence. The kind Slit hated, because it left him with nothing but his own thoughts. Nux had never bested him before. Not physically, anyway. Slit had always got the upper hand, had always managed to bully and intimidate his pup of a Brother into doing as he said. But that pup was long gone. He'd held his own in a fight. Stood firm despite his Brother's disapproval, and earned his Wheel.
And Slit was too tired, and too hungry, to seethe as he otherwise might. At the edge of the fire, the bowl of cooked organs still sat. No meat, no blood, but still...despite their scuffle, Nux had left him that. And the tail. He almost laughed, and cringed when a sharp stab went through his skull. He ate quietly, guts, tail, and all. A good meal. When he finished, he strode to Nux's Racer, and climbed up onto the back platform, peering out at the dark horizon, thoughts grinding through the gears in his head, until he fell into the true comfort of sleep. Maybe it was the heavy meal, but by the time Slit had become coherent, Nux was stretched out on his cockpit, stomach distended and aching and his mind lost in furious dreams.
By the morning, the ache continued. Too much. He had had been angry, and should have shared. At the very least, he should have hidden some of the meat away to be made into jerky, like he had the creature's head, tucked safely under his seat to be made into an Art Project later. The sun was already risen, and the other boys were already stirring, engines revving for early patrols.
At first glance out the window, Nux expected Slit to still be laying out on the sand, but he must have woken in the night, relocating to the Lancer station. His hand went to his throat, as though expecting to find some laceration there, but no. Slit hadn't cut him in his sleep. He probably would have noticed. That meant he wasn't mad, right? Tentatively he eased himself from the driver's seat, but once out he made sure to stand proud and assertive, chest out and jaw set despite the ache in his wounds. He limped around to give the unconscious lancer a good solid smack, "Oy! Wakey Wakey, ass-sucker."
Slit jerked, startled out of sleep, and nearly fell sideways, catching himself clumsily on the bars that blocked in the platform. His mouth tasted like death as he squinted open his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth, scowling at Nux as he leaned forward and spread his knees to spit the vile taste into the sand. He rubbed his eyes as he stood, steel gaze meeting with Nux's cold blues, until a grin finally split his lips.
He felt…something. In his chest. Something like pride, for the scrap of War Pup. All grown. All chrome. Hard enough to stand his ground against his Brother. That tense moment came and went as he shoved Nux's chest, and kicked at him, that smirk not quite gone from his marred mouth.
"Outta my spot, smeg! Yer the driver…"
Nux grinned, the knot like a fist in his stomach unclenching with Slit's quip and shove, relief flooding through him. "Damn right!" He shoved back, positively beaming as a whistle suddenly went up from one of the lookouts. "I could have killed you last night, you know." He added casually. But he hadn't.
And Slit knew it. His grin faded, weighed down with the gravity of it. How many times had Slit felt the same? How many times had he beaten Nux so bloody, it wouldn't have taken much more to throw him over the edge? Peel off his mortal coil? But he never did. Never went that far. For reasons he never voiced. Trusted he didn't have to.
"DUST ON THE HORIZON!" Morsov howled, and the pack of War Dogs scrambled to their stations.
"Better hold tight, we're gonna' catch 'em first!" A slap delivered to Slit's leg, and Nux was scrambling back into the driver's seat excitedly, snapping his goggles on.
Slit braced as the car lurched, a flash of sand spat into the air behind them as Nux sped up and over a dune, his manic laughter filling up the metal hull. But Slit was silent. He gripped the steel bars to steady himself, and collected a Lancer's pole as they closed in on the fleeing, rogue machine. Slit hurled the pole at the wheels, the explosion kicking the car ass over nose, toppling onto its back as the pair of War Boys bellowed their victory.
Unstoppable.