The next day they were walking with full backpacks. They had traded their gun mod abilities and wine for food and clean water, as well as ammo. Joseph had kept his hood up all day to block the heat, but Robert didn't mind it.
"So, why are you only part ghoul?" Robert had been wondering this since they met. Joseph stared into the empty desert, pondering it, "Look smoothskin, the point is I'm a ghoul. Why makes no difference." Joseph started walking faster, occasionally stopping to shoot something. Robert eventually joined in the killing and butchering of the animals.
By the late afternoon, Joseph and Robert were both ready to eat up the stew they had gathered supplies for. Joseph tossed down some of the fuel he had gathered from the cars around the wasteland and lit it with a match. Then he sat on the ground and started cutting up the mole rat and Mirelurks and Deathclaw. "That looks fine." Robert said as he was writing in a ripped up journal.
"What's that, Rob?" Joseph looked over as he started making the meat. "I'm documenting some of my stories, for when I die. Kind of like the Vault Dweller, a legend from way back." Joseph nodded and kind of laughed. "I met him once. An old hermit, almost dead when he showed up. He asked me to kill him. So I did, I even have his body in my house." Robert kind of sadly laughed, and wrote that down. "So, what are we drinkin'?" Robert asked as he looked at what Joseph was stirring. "Wine, but this is Mirelurk sauce, the liquid in my stew." Joseph only smiled a bit.
Later, as they sat eating, Robert was looking over Joe's six-shooters. "Well, it won't be easy, but I think I can fully upgrade these." Robert observed. The ghoul snatched them. "No. These were my parents'. I want you to fix up my rifle. You know, semi-auto, new scoping, all of it." Joseph grinned and handed the rifle to his partner. Robert pulled out an old microscope magnifier and started working on the scope with his tools. In the time that would take, Joseph was messing with their clothing, trying to reinforce all of it with bones from the Deathclaw.
By that night they had their custom rifles, assault and sniper, and custom Deathclaw Death Armor, as Joe called it. Finally all the stew was gone, the alcohol was finished, and the men were ready to go. "Just a few miles to Chamberwood." Joseph announced as he walked with the tanned man he had grown fond of. "Good, I want that slaver dead." Robert growled as he loaded his Eagle. Joseph, at that time, was loading his rifle. Finally, they would both get revenge.