(A/N: Thanks to Skylark for helping me name Dario's family. You're a big help! )
The sun was slowly setting, a semi-circular disc dropping over the distant horizon, the area where the land and sky met just a mass of colorless heat waves. On the very highest point of the quarry, shaped like some kind of termite mound, Ravendor Begucci watched the sun set with an expectant silence, like something very important was about to occur, though he had no present knowledge of exactly what it was. He smiled, glad that night would soon fall. He liked the night, it was… comforting.
If he had his own way with things, he would travel by night and rest during the day, because darkness always made things cooler and he abhorred the constant heat waves sweeping Filgaia, it seemed like they were there just to annoy him. But the wind kept blowing, and the evening breeze was nice and cool, like a small reward for a hard days work. As high up as he was, Ravendor could clearly see the camp from afar, deciding that it was about time for him to rejoin the others.
Upon his descent into the outskirts of the quarry, the physical strain of his entire day's activities suddenly caught up with him and Ravendor started to cough, his foot slipping on a rock and forcing him to his knees, holding his throat and choking. Breaking out in a cold sweat, he anticipated what came next and clutched at his throat even tighter as a sharp stabbing pain flew down his back, like somebody invisible had just thrown molten lava all over him, bloodstream feeling like it was set on fire. His hands grasped a rock and he pressed down on that, waiting not so patiently for the pain to go away and trying to make his coughing subside. "N-No… Not yet… Not anymore…" He breathed, sweat beading on his face and feeling the long and severe ache subside with the gradual passage of time. Speaking so softly that he could barely hear himself, he added; "… Curse you, Malik…"
Fumbling in his jacket pocket, Ravendor shakily removed his packet of cigarettes and drew one out, taking out his lighter in the meantime. The end was lit and he inhaled deeply, feeling returning to all of his limbs and the pain going away. Whenever he had one of his 'dizzy spells', It felt as if his entire body was going to crumble away. That was his problem, and one of his many curses, a body blighted with an unnatural blood disease that caused him to be sick whenever he pushed himself too hard. 'Blood disease' was not the correct word for his infliction, but uttering the real name for his problem just made Ravendor's stomach turn. Breathing in heavily from his cigarette, the special blend of medicinal herbs and chemicals mixed in with the tobacco suppressed and shortened the length of his dizzy spells, although it could not silence them completely. He hid the fact whenever possible, but he was not, and never would be, a very healthy man. Outwardly, he looked fine, but on the inside…
Antonio stooped and laid a gloved hand on Ravendor's shoulder, not expecting the man to stiffen with pain as the contact was felt. "You okay, Boss? I see you fall, and I come to help, Si?" His hand was shrugged off and the bandit leader got up by himself, leaning over slightly like he had been kicked in the stomach. The medicine worked almost instantly, and he felt a little embarrassed for collapsing in such a way, especially when he was supposed to maintain his role as leader around here.
"Thank you for the concern, Antonio." Said Ravendor graciously, wiping the sweat off his face with the back of a hand, "But I will be fine now. It was only a passing detriment, I assure you nothing is wrong." From this, he lied wantonly, still feeling like somebody had thrust a red-hot poker into his back. Stuffing his packet of cigarettes back into his pocket, he regarded his foreign minion with a small smile on his face.
Forgetting his manners, Antonio absently switched back to his mother tongue and addressed his boss with a question, a little irritated by the strange cloud of sweet-smelling smoke Ravendor's cigarettes were making. It didn't smell like tobacco at all. "¿Fumas mucho?" He wondered out loud, looking up at the overcast sky. He went red after a second, realizing that Ravendor could not answer him.
But oddly enough, he did. "Si. ¿Quiere usted un cigarrillo?" Ravendor replied, reaching back into his pocket and extending the packet to the lesser bandit, smirking almost smugly. "I gather by your expression that you did not expect me to understand you, correct? Well, I can, to a certain degree." Antonio opened and closed his mouth a couple of times dumbly, then finally stopped and laughed, shaking his head.
"I beaten! Gracias Señor, but no thank you. I no smoke." He looked back down at the campsite, the area only a short walk away. "Night come. We go back to camp, yes?" Looking into Ravendor's green eyes, Antonio could see that the man was still a little bit disoriented, but he nodded anyway, pocketing his cigarettes and lighter, holding one arm out as a signal for Antonio to go on ahead. With the agility of some kind of small monkey, the ninja bandit scrambled down the rocks with an uncanny dexterity, his small size and wiry stature making him an excellent rock climber.
Ravendor took his own path down the quarry-side, one that a man with an average nimbleness could cross. He moved with a careful deliberation, knowing that the slightest increase in his energy could trigger another and probably even more severe dizzy spell. It only ever happened every week or so, but when it did, it made him feel like he had just been trampled by something incredibly heavy.
Or squashed by a huge rock.
He shuddered, trying to divert his thought patterns to something a little more pleasant. As he moved away, a weak wind blew his white jacket back, allowing something tiny and soft to fall out from between it's recesses, completely unnoticed by the world, or it's inhabitants.
The single black feather was immediately caught upon the evening breeze, disappearing within moments.
xxx
The sky grew dark and became awash with thickening clouds, a deep and dreary grey, the color of filthy wool. Sluggishly, they floated away south to the green fields of Southfarm, but their journey forced them across the windswept canyon first, blocking out the usually brilliant night sky. This saddened Kaitlyn, for she really had looked forward to seeing the wasteland sky in all it's glory, away from the lights and obstructions that were present in town. In any case, she still looked up at the sky, likening it's motion to a great big pot of porridge being stirred. It was getting rather cold, so she slid closer to the campfire, warming her hands on the nearby flames
Everybody was ringed around the campfire, sitting in the order of Ravendor first, then Kaitlyn and Dario, followed by Romero and Antonio. Kaitlyn felt a little safer being between nice Mister Dario and her Uncle Ravendor, something deep inside her made the child distrust the blonde and foreign bandit, she just didn't like the way they seemed to look at her. Ravendor was stirring something he was cooking in a pot, a kind of reddish concoction that smelt of meat and vegetables. His mind looked rather occupied as he did so, like he was trying to figure out an equation without first knowing the logistics of the problem. Kaitlyn decided to leave him be.
Antonio coughed. "Perdón, my friends. I have question for brothers." He looked sideways at Romero who seemed to be inside some magical world in his own head. Tapping the bandit a few times, Antonio finally got his attention. Dario was already listening, glancing up from his more than half shredded world map. "I see brother Dario and brother Romero, but where be brother Lucio?" He scratched his head, confused at the look Dario and Romero shot each other at the same time.
"Lucio… He's dead." Dario replied bluntly, folding up his map. "It's been nearly a year now since he was gunned down. 'Thought you knew already." Antonio's face fell, absently cracking his knuckles hidden underneath his thick battle gloves. Across from the fire, Dario shrugged. "Sorry. It were an act of negligence on our parts. We weren't watching his back when we were supposed to."
Antonio nodded half-heartedly. "No, S'okay. We all be shot someday, it bandit way of life." From his belt, he removed a canteen full of whiskey and took a swig, a small trickle of the liquor running down his chin. He wiped it away and had a flash of revelation. "Oh yeah! Dario, how be Maria and Carolyn? I no see them before, only in letter you sent me." His small frown became a smile, thinking back to the one day years ago when he actually got a letter from Dario, even though the bearded bandit couldn't write back then, he had paid a literate man to compose it for him. He still had the letter, somewhere.
Dario had been cleaning his weapon when the two names were mentioned. At the casual use of those words, his hands froze up and the gun slipped out of them, landing between his filthy boots. The pistol was loaded and it went off, thankfully missing everybody in the campsite but making a loud cracking noise in the air. After that, Gillius TH12/23 was silent, and so was he. Meekly, Antonio shied away from the scrape where the bullet had ricocheted off the rock he was sitting on. "¿Que le duele? I say something wrong?" The foreign bandit asked.
"…Nah." He said after a good few seconds, scratching his beard. "You just shocked me, that's all. I nearly forgot about that, been thinkin' about other things lately." Ravendor finally diverted his attention from whatever he was cooking to the conversation of the bandits, listening in but remaining quiet. Dario rifled through his pockets and removed his shamefully empty wallet, nearly expecting moths to fly out of it as the money clip was opened. Instead of gella, Dario removed a black and white photo instead and passed it to Romero, who then passed it to Antonio. "There they are, see?"
It was a picture of two people standing outside a house, the first one a woman of vivacious yet subtle beauty and a little dark-haired girl who looked to be no more than four or five years old. They were waving to the person who was taking the photograph and smiling like all was right in the world. Leaning over to the right so he could also take a look, Ravendor could easily tell that this photo was of Dario's family. However, the picture was old, it looked like it had been resting inside the recesses of Dario's wallet for quite some time. "¡Que preciosas! Ah, la chica, she is so pretty…" Exclaimed Antonio, yet finding himself staring at the woman in the photo with unblinking eyes.
Dario made a non-committal grunt and Romero laid back to look at the sky, resting his hands behind his head. Ravendor went back to stirring their dinner, a little surprised to find that Kaitlyn was leaning up against him, asleep. The toll of a long hiking trip had finally caught her and she could no longer stay awake. Ravendor put an arm around her so she would not fall over and just ignored the girl. Antonio grinned devilishly. "So, why you no be with them?" He fanned away the smoke from Ravendor's cigarette that had decided to come and pay him a visit, "If I had family like that, I be with them all the time."
The eldest bandit's voice was not as rough or as churlish as it usually was, Dario's voice was low and very quiet, like he didn't even want to hear himself speak. "'Cause they're dead, alright? Both of them, Maria and Carolyn, they're dead." There was silence, and Antonio finally shut up.
But not for very long. "I… sorry. I not know. Sorry." Kestorael returned from his scouting mission, alighting himself on Ravendor's shoulder, the bandit leader barely noticing the new arrival, too interesting in what was going to transpire between his minions. Antonio continued to force the conversation along. "What happen? How they die? Is better to talk about things, so no more be sad."
"I ain't sad," Came the reply, "Fine. I'll tell you'se, 'make a good campfire tale, I bet it will." Dario looked into the fire, wondering where to start. He wasn't a very good storyteller, and hated to speak when everybody was looking at him. Well, almost everybody, Kaitlyn was sleeping and Romero had heard this tale before, but still Antonio and Ravendor were interested in what he had to say. Kestorael cawed and settled down, resting and keeping half an ear trained on the sound of Dario's voice.
He started. "Well, err, I only been a bandit for about six years now. After we split up in Little Twister, I moved on over to Little Rock during the gold rush to make my fortune. Things were good for a while, being a miner was fun and rewarding, I got some exercise and money all at the same time, and I actually did well at it. Then I met Maria, a really, really beautiful lady with great big-"
Ravendor cleared his throat. "There is a child in the vicinity." He reminded them, even though Kaitlyn was sound asleep. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke away from her, still glad that his transient feeling of illness had passed. The last thing that was needed right now was for him to fall sick again. The smoke had a strange blue coloring to it, and smelt kind of sweet. All of the bandits were too busy listening to Dario's story to notice this.
"Right." Dario made a motion with his hands around his chest to convey what he meant instead, grinning. Romero started to snigger. "Anyway, one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was married to her and living out a pretty nice life on the outskirts of the town. Then," Dario added, "We ended up havin' a kid, so I called her Carolyn, because I always liked that name. I think I was happy, yeah, I don't think I'd ever been happier." The bandit rubbed the back of his neck, moving up to the sad part that he hated. "Then we had a drought, it was really awful, water started disappearin' all over the place and people began to get sick. I kept on workin' so I could pay for the water, but there just wasn't enough of it to go around."
"I remember drought." Said Antonio, nodding. "It kill lot of sheep and horses in Claiborne. Fields turn brown. No good."
"Yeah." Dario agreed. "And the water we did find wasn't good for drinking, but we drunk it anyway. It was really bad, Maria and Carolyn both caught this disease from the water, and it slowly killed them. 'Started with a 'T', I think." He poked the fire with a stick, the burning embers rolling around and settling down, glowing a little bit. He wracked his brain for the name, it was a big word that he had trouble pronouncing, and it could barely be remembered.
"I believe the word you are looking for is the disease tuberculosis, it affects the lungs of a victim and causes the organ to fill with liquid and eventually suffocate the inflicted person to death. Continual use of antibiotics can slow down or even neutralize the illness, but the disease must be caught in it's earlier stage for any hope of survival." Ravendor explained, seeming to know more than enough about the subject. His eyes were distant as if recalling long-forgotten information. "I am guessing that your family did not survive the epidemic." He lowered his voice a degree. "You have my condolences."
Dario removed his hat, slowly turning it around by the rim in his hands. "As if the drought didn't bleed us dry, the doctor bills sure did the job. I went broke and had to find a new way to muster up some money, mining just wasn't workin' anymore. Then," He pointed to Romero who had his eye closed as he laid down on the ground, "This guy pays me a visit while he was on the run from the law. He were makin' more than three times as much as me, so I got in on the action. I been a bandit ever since, even after Maria and Carolyn died. I had nowhere else to go, anyways. And that's my story. Boring, huh?"
Antonio processed the information slowly. "¿Verdad? I sorry. I should no have brought it up." His hazel eyes contained a little jealousy, though. "But you lucky, Dario. I never have chance to have family, even if only for little while. You very lucky." He chuckled softly before taking another swig of his drink, wondering what on Filgaia it would be like to be a father. Being a bandit was very demanding, he never really got the chance to meet any girls. Apart from the occasional prostitute, of course.
"Maybe I was," Agreed Dario, putting his hat back on, "But hell, it's all in the past now, and who gives a damn about that, right?!" He yelled, grinning and pumping a fist into the air. "We live for today, that's what bein' a bandit's all about, right guys?!" Antonio and Romero cheered heartily, and Ravendor just chuckled softly to himself, glad to see that at least some people could be optimistic about their lives. In that way, the leader found himself slightly envying Dario, just a teensy little bit. Kaitlyn shifted in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent under her breath. Ravendor merely ignored this.
"Gentlemen." Ravendor began, removing the can that contained their dinner off the campfire. "It is now time for us to eat, but before that, I shall elaborate on our plans for the next few days or so." He set the can beside the fire, removing from the folds of his coat an intact copy of the world map, looking to be just about brand new. Folding it in such a way so that only Dune Canyon was visible and the rest tucked away, Ravendor laid the map over his lap and traced their days march with a finger, calculating exactly when they would arrive at their destination tomorrow. If they kept at the same speed he had enforced today, they would easily meet his deadline.
Using a lightning-quick speed, Romero snatched the half-full canteen straight out of Antonio's hands, the foreign drifter staring dumbly at his open palm for a second before guessing precisely what had happened. He scowled for a moment and then broke out into a grin, realizing that it was he who had taught Romero ninja skills like that. The blonde bandit gulped down the alcohol greedily, not feeling particularly hungry himself, he could subsist on pure liquor alone for days, if he tried.
Ravendor tapped a part of the map, nodding with resolve. "Here are the co-ordinates for our destination; X: 20473. Y: 8649, and our current co-ordinates are; X: 20079. Y: 9010. We will take a course between these two points as the crow," He stopped and momentarily patted a sleeping Kestorael, "Or raven, flies. If we wake up before the dawn tomorrow and maintain our pace, our job will be over a lot quicker than I would have expected." He scanned the three faces sitting around the fire. "Is this a comfort to you?" Ravendor received some nods as an answer. "Good. Myself, you, and all of us will be much richer before the week is out."
Having the question hovering around the back of his mind, but being reluctant to say it out loud, Dario conquered the feeling and finally spoke. "What if the Maxwell Gang don't turn themselves in? Then what do we do?" The bandit felt a twinge of something unnamable rush across his mind as Ravendor drew his gun, one of the most expensive pieces of machinery Dario had ever seen, and transferred it to his left hand, gently pressing the dark barrel of the weapon under Kaitlyn's chin. She was clutching tightly Ravendor's coat, snuggled deeply into his side. The little girl had absolutely no idea about what was going on around her, she was still smiling contentedly.
"Then." Said Ravendor, repeating Dario's words with his voice devoid of all emotion, the three bandits briefly catching a glimpse of something not quite sane hiding beneath his countenance. "I wait until the designated time limit, and then," His grip on the Peacemaker's handle increased lightly, trigger finger quivering slightly, "I blow her little brains out. BANG!" He muttered the words under his breath, careful not to wake her up, but pressing the barrel deeper under her jaw. "And that will be that." Ravendor's words were lifeless and neutral, in that lack of emotion, it suggested a kind of emptiness that made the three bandits a little uneasy. By the way Ravendor spoke, he didn't seem entirely human.
Romero asked a question. "I know you said you weren't related to that green-haired guy, but why the hell do you'se two sound the same? It's freaky, man." Dario nodded, wondering the same question himself. Ravendor raised an eyebrow and looked a little confused, like he didn't know what the bandits were talking about. After some moments of thought, the bandit leader was able to answer, smiling a little in embarrassment.
"Oh, I had forgotten. You have met Mr. Winslett before, have you not? Yes, we do sound very much alike, I am sorry if it disturbs you. My apologies." Ravendor politely bowed a little while he was sitting down, slipping his ARM back into it's holster. He made it a prime focus of his to be courteous to everyone, even his own minions. The food he had prepared had finally cooled down somewhat, so he gently shook Kaitlyn awake, careful not to be too rough with her.
"Whu-wha…?" She yawned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Is it morning already?" She asked, blinking tiredly. A wooden bowl filled with some kind of reddish stuff was placed into her lap and she stared at it, not really registering that it was there. Dario, Romero and Antonio had also dished out their servings, but even the bandits themselves, who ate whatever was given to them, couldn't figure out whatever the hell this stuff was.
"I must insist that you eat something before you go to sleep, Kaitlyn." Ravendor reasoned with her. "It is unhealthy for a little girl to not eat when she is supposed to." Putting out his cigarette so he could eat something himself, Ravendor kindly explained exactly what it was that he had prepared for dinner tonight. "I do hope that you enjoy the chili I have made for you all. It contains an adequate percentage of vegetables and meats which will supplement lost vitamin and protein deposits due to energy expenditure. Also, I have added spices for flavoring. It will give you enough strength to continue our march tomorrow morning."
Proving to the others that he was not as spineless as some people made him out to be, Romero tried his first, digging his wooden spoon into the weird concoction that smelt of Mexican peppers. Throwing away his hesitation, he swallowed some.
A minute later, Dario was snickering into his beard and Antonio was prodding the younger bandit worriedly as he lay face-down on the ground after his frantic attempts to inhale his own water canteen had failed. Romero twitched slightly, breathing through his mouth with his tongue stuck out and panting like some kind of dog. Being nice, the eldest bandit was fanning Romero with his hat, trying to make the heat go away.
Secretively, Ravendor took out a small glass vial of liquid from one of the many niches in his coat, the fluid inside glowing a vibrant orange. While nobody else was looking at him, he unscrewed the lid and tipped the medicine down his throat, receiving an aftertaste that was worse than a strong shot of tequila. Shooting a glance at Romero, the dark-haired man looked moderately surprised. "Is it too spicy for him?" He asked, his own meal half-eaten without complaint. Romero moaned out a long complaint, lisping a little because his tongue was burned. He squirmed for a bit, then fell silent.
Antonio continued to poke his younger brother, trying to get a reaction from him. "¿Que le te parcen las comidas? Is it good? Nice?" Romero moaned again and tried to curl up into a little ball, hands over his head. The foreign bandit turned to his leader, shrugging. "What you put in food?" He inquired calmly, a little amused at Romero's suffering.
Lightly scratching his chin in thought, Ravendor obligingly read out the list of ingredients in his mind. "Only the usual things. Tomatoes, ground beef, onions, capsicum, jalapeno peppers, chilies, spices and dead peppers." He kept a perfectly straight face while he listed all of these, while Dario and Antonio's faces twisted into sympathetic looks of pain for their wounded comrade. Romero continued to twitch, and Antonio patted him on the back with pity.
Dario immediately realized something. "Hey! Don't give Kaitlyn any of that-"
They all turned to the little girl sitting beside Ravendor and Dario. Grinning cheerfully, her bowl was already empty, scraped clean. "That was yummy!" She exclaimed, "It's just like the stuff that Daddy makes sometimes! Can I have some more?" She turned to the bandit leader and held out her bowl, smiling brightly. Refilling it from the can he had used to cook the stuff in, Ravendor, Dario and Antonio began to laugh, all at the same time. So, a little girl could handle the chili while a fully grown man could not.
Romero groaned with shame.