Brothers and Sisters Part 1

I. "Well you know me, I wouldn't kill anything if I didn't have to," he said. "Remember that month I wouldn't eat anything but snack cakes?"

They dined on grilled giant ant meat, not the finest but clearly the best he could get. She had to admit he had a way with food.

"You developed rad sickness and threw up a bunch," she nodded her head. He drank lustily from a bottle of soda.

"Yeah," his voice was deep, resonant like the low rumble of heavy thunder, but soft, "But, y'know, gotta kill to eat," he shrugged and took another ravenous bite of ant meat, "That's just the way things are."

Julia Aram stared at her brother, the Dead Soul. She found him surprisingly pure. Where other Legionaries bore battle scars with pride his skin was smooth and uncalloused. He was free of dirt and grime, appearing almost freshly washed. There was no indication of any past on him. Not the bloody battles of the Legion, not the vicious executions he'd committed, not the gleeful torture he'd engaged in. He looked as pure and innocent as a child. The accumulated weight of his transgressions against humanity were obscured by the curtain of memory, as Julia could not help but still see him as the little boy she'd grown up with. As the young boy afraid to kill a young gecko.

"I'm so glad I found you!" he said, "I never stopped looking. When I heard about Dry Wells I knew you couldn't have been there. I never gave up hope!"

He beamed a wide smile at her. She couldn't help smiling back.

Not that she felt threatened by him. She didn't feel threatened by anything anymore, certainly not the Legion. These children had a pathological revulsion towards armor and weaponry more complex than lawnmower blades jury rigged with handles. Their discipline, numbers, and zealotry gave them an edge to be sure, but it was an edge which was easily removed with a sniper rifle or a landmine. Their misogyny left them with a gaping blind spot when it came to women, notably. Their firm belief in the inferiority of women, their concept of women as nothing more than property made it that much easier for any competent woman to trick or manipulate them.

Julia had entered the Legion camp wearing none of her armor aside from her coat, she'd come without Lady and her shotgun, and yet she was still the most equipped soldier in the camp. On her person she'd concealed two .22 pistols, 6 .22 clips, her Colt Navy and full ammo belt, two snub-nosed colt magnums with full chambers, a Colt M1911 with three clips, a bowie knife, a butcher's cleaver, and a switchblade. In comparison her brother was totally unarmed, with a kit of weapons containing brass knuckles, his Twisted Hair machete, and boxing tape in his tent. She had personally noted the weapons of everyone in the camp, including slaves, one of which had concealed a crude metal shiv on their body. If it came down to it she could kill every other person at the Legion camp her brother staffed, including him and the slaves, with her armory even in its diminished capacity, even without the force of her Maenads who were concealed in the surrounding hillside against her orders. Avata was personally clutching Julia's helmet, ready to give it back to her captain at a moments notice.

II. She shared a tent with her brother. She was surprised to find it the same as every other tent in camp. In her not-insignificant experience with the Legion she had learned that commanders were eager and waiting to pull rank. A strict and fanatical devotion to the hierarchy in the Legion led to fetishizing authority, and Decanus and Centurions all had their own way of expressing their rank. Centurions in particular took advantage of their positions by ownership of their own contubernias of private slaves. The character of these slave contubernias was often a reflection of the Centurion's character; for instance the 'lovers' and the rapists would often have a formation of women slaves of all ages, whereas the secretly homosexual Centurions would surround themselves with male 'personal groomers.' Decanus couldn't afford the luxury of extra slaves, so they usually expressed their position with better equipment, including larger tents. Her brother did wear better equipment, but it was also fragrantly in violation of Legion dress code. The scorn, disrespect, and demerits his armor likely cost him would certainly outweigh any tactile benefits. His ancestral machete was unique but had no true advantage over lawnmower blades. Her brother Heart was a surprisingly humble commander.

They slept with their clothes on. When she was closer Julia could tell by the smell her brother hadn't taken his clothes off in a long time. She was wearing her coat, which smelled reassuringly of herself and gunmetal, but under her coat she was wearing shorts and an undershirt she'd taken from a dead woman. They smelled disconcertingly unlike Julia. She spent the entire night either overwhelmed by the stench of her brother's leather or unnerved by the unfamiliar smell of her own clothes.

She fell asleep at some point, and awoke after her brother, much later than her usual 5am wake-up time. She woke after sunrise, to the sound of her brother sharpening his machete. He crouched hunched over, the brim of his stetson pulled low over his eyes. He was too absorbed in the act of sharpening to notice her, but when she rested her hand on his shoulder he fell back on his butt and smiled at her, like a child playing in the dirt.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked.

"I get a choice?" she was surprised, "Don't you have Legion stuff to do? Drills, and... patrols?"

"We don't patrol. We're scouting. They're scouting," he gestured to his men, "I can scout with my sister."

Dead Soul's scouting with his sister turned out to be more like a vigorous and fun hike. Julia was surprised at how much fun she was having just crawling around rock formations with her brother. He occasionally would stop, pointing out interesting plants or landmarks on the horizon, and Julia played along, acting like she didn't know that a certain plant could be ground into a salve, or what the scorch marks of laser weaponry looked like on stone. She nodded along dumbly, humoring him. He was so proud, showing off his knowledge to his little sister. She couldn't help feeling proud of him, too. He was so confident, so at ease in hostile terrain.

He was curiously unarmed the entire day, opting to leave his machete back at camp. She assumed it was because the territory they traversed was already charted by her brother's men. They never encountered any threats. Nothing spoiled the perfect day for Julia. At least, not until she got back to camp.

Her brother had to convene with his unofficial second-in-command about the day's scouting report, leaving her alone at his tent. She was sitting there when she was approached from behind by one of the contubernia's ghouls, Scratch. She heard his unsteady gait, his bare feet slapping the ground as he made no attempt to disguise his approach. He breathed at a low rasp, sniggering at her back.

"You know nobody's bothering you because the Decanus is your brother," he said, "If I touched you he'd tear my face off. What little face there is to be torn off." She continued to ignore his presence. He breathed heavier, sucking his few remaining teeth and sniggering more.

"Nobody crosses Mortuus. But we'll be meeting up with the rest of the centuria soon," he continued telling her back, "Mortuus may be tough, but he's subject to the command of the Centurion," he smiled so wide she could feel it without looking at him, "And I'm sure the Centurion will be interested in you, little profligate."

He walked off laughing a choking, sputtering hack of a laugh. Julia mentally tallied up her equipment again, and used her knowledge of ghoul biology to determine the quickest way to kill Scratch, and then the most satisfying way. When her brother finished talking to Reave he returned to her, and noting her expression asked what was on her mind.

"Just thinking about datura root," she smiled at him, "Just thinking about today."