Author's Notes: This chapter is gonna be some backstory and slice of life before the next conflict. Give these poor children a break! Today's Special: Character and Relationship Growth, with a side of Backstory. Today's song: Tom Petty: Mary Jane's Last Dance

—In The Heart Of The Australian Outback Wasteland—

Marco sat on a crate in the corner of his workshop, strumming, his guitar, smiling softly at nothing in particular, but still rather focused in Angela's sun shined through the window, aimed at Ramirez, who sat on top of his ammo bench, twirling a harmonica in his hands. Marco's strumming picked up as he begun to sing.

"She grew up in an Indiana town

Had a good lookin' momma who never was around

But she grew up tall and she grew up right

With them Indiana boys on an Indiana night"

Ramirez began playing a matching, but smooth tune on his harmonica.

"Well she moved down here at the age of eighteen

She blew the boys away, it was more than they'd seen

I was introduced and we both started groovin'

She said, "I dig you baby but I got to keep movin'...on, keep movin' on"

He soloed for a moment, hopping of the crate. He sung this part with Ramirez.

"Last dance with Mary Jane

One more time to kill the pain

I feel summer creepin' in and I'm

Tired of this town again"

Ramirez rocked the Hermonica adopting the tune from earlier.

"Well I don't know what I've been told

You never slow down, you never grow old

I'm tired of screwing up, I'm tired of goin' down

I'm tired of myself, I'm tired of this town

Oh my my, oh hell yes

Honey put on that party dress

Buy me a drink, sing me a song,

Take me as I come 'cause I can't stay long"

Marco swayed his hips as he sung, smiling at Angela's toothy grin. Ramirez started singing with again.

"Last dance with Mary Jane

One more time to kill the pain

I feel summer creepin' in and I'm

Tired of this town again"

He trailed off into a intense solo, rearing back with the guitar. Ramirez hopped off the crate and began dancing to the music, as did Angela.

"There's pigeons down in Market Square

She's standin' in her underwear

Lookin' down from a hotel room

Nightfall will be comin' soon

Oh my my, oh hell yes

You've got to put on that party dress

It was too cold to cry when I woke up alone

I hit the last number, I walked to the road"

Ramirez and Marco were back to back as they sung the last part.

"Last dance with Mary Jane

One more time to kill the pain

I feel summer creepin' in and I'm

Tired of this town again"

Ramirez picked up his tune, carrying it to the end, as Marco went off on a long solo, trailing off after a moment. The two men looked at Angela as her quick clapping caught their attention, their gaze returned to each other, giving each other a flashy grin. Angela's clapping ceased and she stepped forward. "How many songs do you two sing together?"

Ramirez smiled widely, looking up in mock thought. "Hmmm, I dunno, like fifty or sixty." Her eyes bulged before Marco's hand connected with the back of Ramirez's head. "He's being stupid again, sorry. We only know like, seven or eight songs. Although this guy right here showed me something called free styling that he likes to do. You should show Angela sometime."

Ramirez blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hehe, I don't know..I'm not that good at it. When I left the wasteland for my first mission, I ended getting sent to the states, some city on the west coast called LA, reminded me of Sydney, but dirtier. In fact, I met some of your amigos, Angela. I also met these teenagers rapping on the corner in some kind of rap battle. It was pretty cool, so I checked it out. Apparently they were coming up with all the stuff they were rapping on the spot! So I figured I'd give it a try. I'm not all that good."

Marco grinned at Ramirez. "I'm sure Pharah would love to see you freestyle." Ramirez blush deepened and he lunged at Marco, who ducked and ran in circles, trying to avoid his angry friend. "Why you little, puto! Voy a patear el culo, perra culo hijo de puta!" Angela looked bewildered? "How do you know Fareeha?" Ramirez stopped chasing him when his towering frame took shelter behind Angela. She was more curious, even though the comical site before her, of a six foot seven giant running from a five foot eleven man, despite the fact Ramirez was older than Marco by four years.

He huffed but collected himself. "I met her on my first out of country mission a few weeks ago. There was supposed Los Muertos strongholds in the city. Overwatch hired a few mercs to cover their agents in case shit went sideways. I think they hired me cause I was the cheapest with the most experience." He pondered for a moment before continuing.

"Anyways, your own little blue jay and I got caught by one of their Patrols. Had to tail it across half the city on foot. I saved her ass about as many times as she saved mine. She's one bad puta. And a damn good looker if I may say so myself." He finished, a distant look companied with a short smile graced his features. He shook his head went to push open the barn doors, letting them swing open. Angela and Marco fell in step with him.

"You know, Ramirez, you could see Fareeha again if Winston agrees to my proposal." Angela said optimistically. Marco raised a brow, looking at her. "Proposal?" She nodded vigorously. "I asked Winston if you and Ramirez could join us at Overwatch, and to be temporary if you find you do not wish to stay…" She said the first part with much enthusiasm, it all but disappeared when finishing the sentence. He said nothing, his mouth shut firmly, looking at the ground in front of him, in deep thought. She watched him warily, trying to gauge his reaction. He soon looked back up at her, a small smile on his face. "I'd like that." He said softly.

It took so much not to throw a fist in the air and cheer. Angela instead chose to send him sincere, happy smile. They both looked forward, to see Ramirez peel off and head towards his Mustang. "I'm gonna go to the Market, got a few things I wanna pick up some stuff. You two need anything?" Angela shook her head, but Marco spoke up. "Actually, yeah, if you could pick up another eighth? I'm almost out." Ramirez chuckled and shook his head, as he shed his leather jacket, revealing a black t-shirt. He threw the jacket into his passenger seat, and rolled down the window. "Only if you smoke me out, amigo. You two, stay safe and wear condoms!"

Before the flustered duo could reply, he rolled up his window and took off, kicking up a large cloud of dust in their direction. Marco and Angela shielded their eyes, trying to hold their breath until he was gone, opening their eyes and watching the last of the dust settle. Angela turned her head to him and looked at him questioningly. "An eighth? Of what?" He returned the questioning look. "Weed? Why?" She stared at him for a moment, just…starring, a blank look on her face. "What? Is that bad?" She watched as his curiosity disappeared and was replaced with a look of a child he thought he was about to be scolded. "Do-Do you not accept that where you are from?"

"Well libeling, its not that its not accepted, its just that fighters are not known for smoking marijuana. Especially not active fighters. Not to mention that smoking of any kind is bad for you. Why do you even do it?" She asked skeptically. He looked afraid to answer, but chose to trust she wouldn't go off on him. "I usually use it to help me get to sleep, and to sleep without nightmares. Sometimes when my scars ache real bad, I'll smoke to alleviate the pain. And sometimes I'll smoke it when I'm really bored and finished all my work early, it gives me inspiration for my music." He spoke softly and timidly.

She quickly shook her head softly, not entirely agreeing with it, but she was also aware of its medicinal properties. She was just rather surprised to find it here in the wasteland. "I can't say I entirely agree with it, but as long as it isn't all the time. I would prefer if you found another method of its consumption, smoking can lead to cancer." She spoke in a doctorly tone, trying to inform him of the risks. He seemed a bit scared after acquiring this information. "You can get cancer from smoking too? But…I thought radiation was the only way.." He seemed frightened that something he had been doing so long could be killing him.

She felt she needed to ease his worries, at least as best as she could. "You know, if you stopped smoking those cigars, you could significantly reduce your chances of contracting it."

He seemed less tense at the information, and quickly reached into his duster and removed three cigars, dropping them to the ground and stepping on them. She was surprised at his sudden will to quit. "You'll quit, just like that?" He nodded. "Cigars, hell yeah. They don't do anything for me except taste. I've always prided myself on staying as healthy as possible. So if cigars will kill me, I'll cut them out. I want the only true unstoppable force being the cause of my death." He spoke confidently.

"And that is?" She asked curiously. "Time." He replied. He started making his way back around to the front of the church. He pushed open the large oak doors, them giving the signature creak in response. They stepped inside and Marco stripped off his duster and armor to reveal a tight, white t-shirt, accompanied by his trademark black combat pants and boots. Angela made her way to the couch, resting in her main spot on the far end, closest to where the tub was. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a large jar, with an equally large cork. He walked over to the couch, plopping down next to Angela and pulled a crate around to act as a little table.

She watched him with curious eyes as he pulled out an old hand carved, wooden tobacco pipe. He pulled out a quart sized baggie full of green herb, and pulled out several nugs of the herb and put it inside the pipe. He pulled out a small matchbook and struck a match, lighting its content and puffing on it. She raised her brows in surprise when he broke out into a fit of coughs, filled with chuckles. He laughed for a moment longer, causing a small grin to appear on her face. He was giggling like a kid at nothing in particular. He continued to puff on the pipe, careful to blow the smoke away from Angela, as to not bother her. She watched the whole time with an amused smirk on her face.

Soon he checked the bowl of the pipe, and and sighed in content as he flipped it upside down and knocked the ash out of it. He slipped everything back into his jar about put it on the floor on the end on the couch, the side closest to the door. He leaned back and looked at her, a toothy grin on his face, his bloodshot eyes easily visible with assistance of the afternoon sun coming in from the windows. She smiled at him and raised a brow? "Feel better?" He nodded softly.

"My scars always hurt, sometimes more, sometimes less. Something about them not healing right. Heard it from a raider doctor shortly after…" He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the 'Trials'. She leaned forward, already knowing what he was talking about. She grasped his hand and rubbed her thumb over it in a circular motion. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and looked up at her. She could see the shine in his eye, shining back at her with the brilliance of the sun. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but found no words would come out.

She placed a hand on his cheek, caressing his face. "Marco, I want to know if you would be okay with me asking about the trials? If I know what happened, I can help make the nightmares go away completely. I want to help you, but I can't if you are not open with me." She spoke slowly and softly, as to not upset him. He said nothing, gripping her hand tighter.

"It started when I was 15, Ramirez's father, Pablo Ramirez bought my group, group 17. There were sixteen of us. We all considered each other family, we had all lost someone, and chose to look out for each other. On our fifth day in the camp, we were told we would be fighting in an arena. Many of us were skilled combatants or hunters by the age, myself included."

He trailed off again in deep thought. She squeezed his hand lightly, and his gaze shifted to her. "S-Sorry..I.." She held a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Take your time." She said softly, he smiled at her compassion. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We were told on the first day in the arena that we would be fighting each other. I-I had to fight all of them…and win. Oh god, winning was the worst part. They would just scream and cheer as if I had just saved the world. I became revered, at what level of brutality I could achieve. Tear a man in half, tear his guts out, rip out his spine. It…It was a fucking nightmare. For three years I was there, one after another, I fought slaves from around the world, making many friends, and having to kill them all. Eventually I caught up to the ranks of my group..group 17…"

His eyes were watering, tears cascading down his cheeks, disappearing into his beard. His voice was still remarkably stable, not braking, but slowing. "I fought what was left of my fellow slaves, all five that remained. I won. Every. Single. Match." He was breathing incredibly hard now, the hand not holding hers, clenched until his knuckles were white. She rubbed his hand, and cooed to him softly.

"Shhhhh libeling…You did really good today. You don't have to keep going. Look at me Marco." Angela cooed to the worn wastelander. He looked up at her, tears brimming in his eyes. He hadn't ever spoken of the days of the Trials. Those were his darkest days, forced to do the most inhumane things imaginable. The surprise on the guards faces when he turned on them…

He let out a choked sob and curled in towards Angela. She caught him immediately, letting him rest his head on her lap. She whispered to the sobbing man, trying to relax him, running her fingers through his hair. He laid like that for only a few moments, and sat up quickly, trying to compose himself, clearly having disliked his own breakdown. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, taking a shaky, but deep breath. He turned and looked at her, their gazes locking. That fire in his eyes, it was still there, albeit dimmed, burning at less than half of its usual swimming brightness.

Then like a switch had been flipped, the fire came back with a vengeance, as if he had just had an epiphany. He stood up and walked to her spot, towering over her sitting form. He placed his hands on the arm rest and the cushion to her left, and leaned over her. She backed into the cushion, a blush consuming her face. He leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart. He seemed to be studying her, his eyes scanning the features of her face. She was confused at what was going on in that mind of his. For him, he had finally figured out two things, first was that warm feeling in his chest whenever he was around Angela. Also..he decided that this was the moment, the moment he fell in love with her.

Before she could question him, his lips met hers. Her eyes widened, but fluttered shut. The kiss ended as quickly as it started. He leaned back and studied her for a reaction. Her blue eyes opened slowly, staring into his turquoise eyes. She tightly grasped his t-shirt and pulled him in, their lips meeting in a fierce lock. This kiss was filled with more of a rushed passion, Angela pulled his towering frame towards her until she could wrap her arms around neck, pulling him against her. He trailed the kiss down her cheek, trailing its way to her neck. She shivered in delight, eliciting a small yelp from her.

He placed his hands on her waist and her body flush with his. "Marcooo…" She moaned his name as he bit down lightly on her neck. "Hey amigos, I got us- OH HOLY SHIT, HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The voice caused them to whip their heads towards the doors, where Ramirez stood, laughing hysterically with a few bags of groceries. He fell to the floor, wheezing loudly. "HAHAHAHAHA, OH MY GOD, I LEAVE YOU FOR THIRTY MINUETS, AND YOU TWO LOOK LIKE TWO DOGS IN HEAT, ABOUT TO FUCK!" Ramirez rolled over wheezing more. The duo on the couch were rushing to look decent…and not like previously mentioned.

When they finally looked presentable again, they both glared at Ramirez, who still lie on the floor, seeming to laugh harder every few seconds. They both walked over to where he was laying, and started grabbing the spilled groceries. Angela was blushing deeply, but Marco had a scowl on his face. He turned to face his prone best friend.

"If you don't stop laughing, I won't smoke you out." Marco said smugly, a grin forming. The laughing stopped abruptly. "Ey! Amigo, would you really be that cruel? I did go and buy it for you after all." Marco took a step forward. "Using who's credits?" He rebutted. Ramirez started to stammer. "W-Well, what about that bet I one, huh? The one about the arena fight? Chopper and Torike? Chopper won! You owe me 200 credits!" Ramirez seemed a little nervous. "Actually if I recalled correctly, we had four total bets. And I won three of them. The Capalin fight, the Brock fight, and the Moriarty fight." Marco stood there, a smug grin plastered. "So that means you owe me a total of 6,400 credits. Subtracting what I owe you, you still owe me 6,200 credits." He smiled as both Angela and Ramirez stared at him, mouths slightly ajar.

"F-Fine…" Ramirez grumbled softly to himself. "But I want to smoke now." He picked a up a baggie from the table and examined it. "Hey Angela?" Ramirez asked casually, she raised a brow. "Yes Ramirez?" She asked quietly, still rather embarrassed from earlier. "You want to smoke some fire?" Ramirez asked. "No! I've already said smoking is bad for you." She said defiantly, although Ramirez wasn't one to back down easily. "But your a doctor, you know marijuana has medical properties. Besides, what if one of us just collapses, you need to know what it feels like to better understand it." He rebutted.

She crossed her arms glared daggers at him and Ramirez started to get nervous, but wasn't giving up, deciding to try playing a wild card. "What if Marco here showed you how to do it?" She seemed nervous, and all too hesitant. He needed to goad the wild card more, using Marco seemed to work. Until his best friend shot him down. "Dude, if she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to." He said sternly. She looked at him gratefully, happy he was respecting her decision. Ramirez groaned, upset his plan ultimately failed, but alas, some battles are not worth fighting, and if Marco has already sided with her, its too late.

He said nothing more and turned to fill up his own bowl. Marco turned to Angela and winked at her. "Don't let him pressure you into shit you don't want to do. I love him like a brother, but he has a problem with peer pressure." Marco whispered softly. She smiled at him in reply, thankful for the advice. He walked to a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out a bag of jerky.

Coughing caught their attention, turning to see Ramirez coughing like someone with an illness. "So wha-*cough**clears throat* So what are we doing tomorrow?" Ramirez choked out. Marco's once soft expression became stern once again. His body shifting, standing up straight, Marco was disappearing, Pérdido was coming out to play.

"We help Angela finish her mission, find and salvage anything we can, and eliminate any hostiles. Should be easy peasy." Pérdido said confidently. Instantly, a feeling in her chest dropped, one that made the blood in her veins turn to ice. Intense fear is a way to describe it, but wouldn't be fitting enough. 'Ah, I know, suspenseful dread…' Angela thought darkly.

End of Day 6—