Wasteland Odyssey

Chapter Six: Ghosts of our Pasts

As soon as she dropped the boy's hand she had signaled to her assistant to take over, which he did so, no question. She didn't stick around to hand out the boy's prize, she just needed to leave. She needed to see someone. Breaking from the crowd, she couldn't help but notice the Chief's son, Bren, among them. His added presence only exacerbated the anxiety already germinating inside her, the unwelcome worry coalescing in the pit of her stomach and clutching at her throat.

With a determined stride, fists balled at her sides, she was every bit of the force she exuded to be; unrelenting. It was the facade she needed right now, for it wasn't how she felt internally. Great Khans, men and women alike, faltered at her dead set leer, and were quick to remove themselves from her immediate path. In short order, her feet carried her to the flap of Naddok's ger, a harsh glare silencing the lone guard quaking under her sight, meant to keep it secure, yet not uttering a word to halt her. Flinging the canvas opening with a huff, she was angered more when she found it empty, ignoring the slight relief that arose from his absence. A part of her didn't want this talk. A rather large part actually, it made her feel like she was drowning.

She was afraid of what it would mean for her. But she had to do it, it couldn't be put off and she had to know.

The guard was quick to step in, a younger man than she, green as grass by her reckoning. He spoke to her nervously, still wary of her, but sure that he had her attention, "Naddok and Fergus have stepped out, Ma'am."

She rounded on him, hands up in a questioning manner. When she received no reply, she began making hand gestures, but the poor fellow was at a loss. 'Come on, tell me where, you daft greenhorn!' she raged in her head.

"Slow it down, will ya'" he asked, but the harsh look leveled at him warned of her waning patience. "What do you need?"

The woman scowled, looking at him as if he were an idiot, but she held up one hand, index finger out. She waited until his eyes were on it, then she pivoted her hand left and right a few times.

The young man was even more confused. But when recognition finally flashed through his brown eyes, "Oh! Where?" Her hard stare relented with a small smile replacing her stern grimace, letting the man know he was on the right track. " Naddok and Fergus left to check the other encampments and mobilize our riders, Miss Saule."

'Mobilize the riders,' she thought, quirking a brow. Did something happen, out West maybe? Or was it just another group of raiders being purged from the wasteland?

"Riders from the Northern tribe arrived yesterday. Papa Khan is looking to attack the NCR. That's all I can say with certainty, Miss Saule."

'Great,' she thought to herself. She mouthed "Thank you," to the young guard, then quickly left the tent. Not only did she have questions from twelve years ago needing answers, but now she just got a load of other worries to think about. She didn't get it though, the Bullhead Khans had been relatively peaceful for over a decade; if you ignore the wholesale slaughter of raider gangs. What could have changed to warrant that shift in behavior? As much as she hated Naddok, she knew the man wasn't particularly interested in raiding and pillaging anymore. What he'd accomplished here was a rare and a positive thing. 'What changed that he'd risk losing this kind of stability?' Sighing, all she could do was head back to her tent. She's certainly not going back to the Circle today.

(The Circle)

Nick shook his wrists out. His knuckles now sore and aching. He'd just won his second round today, against a boy nowhere near as tough as Alex had been. The boy was being dragged off by his pals to make way for the next fight. Nick had won both the double barrel shotgun, and a neat little .32 caliber cylinder gun. The piece was old, but reliable, being that it was a revolver and all. Would never jam, but then again, neither would his nine, if he maintained it. He stepped from the Circle to let two new fighters take the ring. Coming to a stand in front of Chance, Bren, and that kid he'd met before, he asked aloud, "So, you think I can get any decent caps for this," he asked holding up his newly acquired revolver.

Chance clapped him on the shoulder, "We'll head over an' check the caravan post. If you can't find a trade there, you'll have to keep it or trade it with someone else." The caravan post was a section of the Glade where Caravaneers and roving traders could stop in, rest up and make sales or buy new stock and be safe while doing it. All major caravans set up deals with the tribe so that Khan guards would supplement the caravan guards through and out of Bullhead; sometimes if they paid enough, a group would accompany them all the way to the Hoover settlement.

Bren nodded, gesturing for them both to follow, "Follow us and we'll get ya' there, slugger."

Before they took off, the boy from before spoke up, "Yo, my name's Tye, by the way." Nick hadn't really taken much stock from him, but now since he'd introduced himself, took a minute to commit the face to the name. Tye was taller than him, standing relaxed with his hands in his pockets. Gone was the surprised awe upon seeing Bren, who was about the same height as he without the little Mohawk. His hair was a light brown, and his eyes were a light brown as well, but it was the coolness of his demeanor that held it all together. Nick noticed he didn't have anything of wager value for the Circle, so he must've just been a spectator. "You mentioned Martin. Well, if you're looking to fight him, I'll come and find you if he shows up."

"Noted," Bren said, starting to push Nick in the direction of the caravan post. Nick noticed that for some reason, Bren seemed off-put with the other boys presence. He dragged the three of them out of there before Nick had a chance to reply in thanks.

Once they were out of ear shot and Bren stopped guiding him like a stubborn Bighorner, Nick popped his question, "What was that about?"

"I don't like him, as long as I've known of him. No one has seen him fight. In or out of the Circle. He always just watches."

"Okay, and?" Nick didn't really see how it was a big deal. Who cares, unless. . .

"Bren doesn't like to associate with him because he thinks he's a coward. That's the rumor anyways, and Tye knows it too, a boy asked him to his face once in front of everybody. Tye just looked at him, turned and walked off without a word. Never said anything different about it since then, neither," Chance added, supplying more context to his friend's reasoning. It earned him a light glare from Bren. His best friend wasn't really known for explaining himself when it came to his opinions of people, unless it was his father or uncle asking.

"Oh." Nick didn't really know what to think about that. He wasn't much for thinking ill of people, especially those he knew next to nothing about. But, in this case, apparently Tye wasn't worried about quashing the rumor if he did know about it. Nick knew he would, he had punched whoever it was in the teeth, if they were stupid enough to call him a coward to his face.

"There is another rumor about him too, that no one has questioned him on."

"Oh please, it's bullshit." Bren scoffed, crossing his arms as he did so. It was weird for Nick to see this much emotion from Bren. Then again, he hadn't really spent this much time with the teen. Ever. This Tye really bugged the shit out of him. He was starting to like this new guy. "I don't believe for a second it happened like that?"

Nick couldn't help it, he was curious and nosy as all hell, he'd have never entered that tunnel yesterday if he wasn't, "What are you on about, jesus, the fuck man?"

"A week later," Chance started, getting his attention back on him, recounting the rumor for him, "Tye and that kid that called him out on his cowardice left on a hunt with some of the adults. A sand storm hit and they all got separated. The adults looked for two days, and the couldn't find Tye; but they did find the other kid. He was killed, stabbed three in the neck. He'd bled out. They found sign of a struggle, only two sets of tracks but they hadn't been together. Tracks looked as if whoever he ran into stumbled onto him by accident."

"Holy shit," Nick breathed out heavily. He glanced over at Bren, and the scowl on the teen's face had only deepened, confirming the story to be straight so far. "And you- well, I mean, the rumor. It's that Tye did it?"

"That's the rumor among us any way. The adults have no clue. There's all kinds of crazy in the wasteland and there's been talk and sightings of a raider gang near their position within the same few days and prior, and so they chalked it up to bad luck. But, when they came back, Tye was already here. And he never questioned why the boy hadn't come back with them."

"And there was only ten of us there to know about it, him, Andy, myself bein' three of 'em." Bren finished, he really wanted to end the conversation. "Since then, nobody has had either the balls or the care to question him about it." With that, Bren had picked up his pace, effectively putting himself ahead of Chance and Nick until he was easily several feet beyond them. But neither had missed how he rubbed at his side, along his ribs.

"It really eats him up, huh?" Nick asked, confused, and genuinely concerned.

"Well, that boy, Andy. His name was Andrew Moore. Him and Bren used to be tight. One of us, but the two had a falling out over a girl. Stupid shit really, but the rift was dug and there was no going back. I know they both regretted it, Bren even more after he was killed." Chance remembered that day like it was happening right before him again, almost as if it hadn't been three years ago. Bren and him hearing the news, how Bren left to hunt on his own and wasn't heard from again for a week. Naddok was about ready to send a search party and force him back. He came back though, covered in wounds. Most weren't serious, but one was a jagged gash along his ribs. According to Bren, he'd spent the first day returning to Andy's body, to look for something the others may had missed by mistake. He noticed a particular keepsake was missing, a Blue Star Sarsaparilla Cap he wore around his neck. The next few days he spent looking for tracks until he eventually found them. He'd found that group of raiders and had killed them all. All four of them.

It was only days later, when it was just Jessup, McMurphy, Bren and himself, sharing whiskey and drunk, that Bren went into detail; He'd kept one of them alive. Fought with the guy up close, using every trick he'd ever learned to win and keep the degenerate alive. He tortured him until the guy spilled his guts out to him in a sobbing mess.

'They'd never seen no Khan,' he'd said, 'never saw no Blue Star Cap.' Even checking the bodies after he'd ended the man's life proved useless. The keepsake was still missing.

Chance knew what that meant, knew what Bren was thinking.

"It's against Tribe Law to murder our fellows outside of ritual combat. You know this, the Clan knows this, and Bren know this."

Nick nodded, as he listened, wondering what it was he was getting at. He was learning a lot about his- Bren, today. And he felt as if he was beginning to cross some boundaries, but Chance kept going. So he kept listening with an open mind and ear. If Chance really believed it, if Bren maybe believed it. What were they going to do about it?

"Bren hasn't touched the issue, because if it turned out the rumor was true. If Tye did kill Andrew Moore out in that desert. Tribe Law be damned, and that's Bren worry."

"That the truth would cause him to break Father's law." Nick said under his breath, so quiet Chance thought he'd imagined it. He actually wasn't sure of it now.

For the rest of the walk to the caravan post, the trip was made in silence, each of the three boys lost of a myriad of thought.

(Camp Entrance, The Glade)

(Half Hour Later)

That was it. Riders had been dispatched to his camps and farms, in order to get a head count and have those going ready for assembly at the Glade. It saved them time and energy and they now knew what they were working worth. Fergus was riding beside him, his eyes scrolling over the names from the assorted rosters that had been jotted up, and Naddok listened in taking a mental stock as he listed them off. Most of the names he heard he'd had the experience of riding with on some raid or another, experienced men and women which was good; they'd have to be, since he was bringing along all the prospects he deemed as ready. It was time for them to earn their top patches. His methods were slightly different than the old ritual rites. Not that he'd done away with it completely, he just reserved it for special circumstances.

Their horses were reined to a stop within the main gate, two men sidling up to take the reins as they dismounted, getting ready to lead them to their personal stables. Fergus' feet hadn't been on the ground longer than a few short minutes when a chill crawled up his spin. When he caught sight of Naddok from the other side of his horse, he saw that whatever it was he felt, Naddok seemed to catch wind of it too.

The young man assigned to watch over Naddok's Ger was walking up to them briskly, arm saluting his chief across his broad chest. "Sir, Miss Saule was looking for you a half hour ago. She seemed rather upset."

Naddok raised a brow, "What did the wench want?" That women would be the death of him. She had her uses, and provided instruction to a lot of the younger generations in hand to hand, and provided a means for them to test what they'd learned. She had even taught him, Fergus and Bren a few things about melee and close quarters combat. But with her presence came the constant reminder of his failure and his mistake, as if one wasn't enough.

"She was looking for you Sir, or maybe Fergus. She asked where and I told her you were both out, she just thanked me and left."

Fergus made his way over, folding his arms across his chest, "Did she happen to head back to her tent or is she at the circle?" He had a sinking suspicion that something was off, Amelia wasn't known for making a scene. This was definitely outside her norm.

"Sorry, Fergus," he shrugged, looking remorseful, "I couldn't say."

Fergus nodded as Naddok dismissed the young man back to his duties. "Don't tell me you're going to bother yourself over this?" Naddok accused of him. His brother had something of a bleeding heart for her, and even though he couldn't understand why, he wouldn't force his hand to stop him, so long as it didn't affect his brother's judgment. In all these years, it hadn't, so he allowed it to continue.

Fergus just gave him a sideways cursory glance, then shoved the rosters into his chief's hands and walked off on his merry way. His silence more than enough for an answer.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then." Naddok whispered snidely, but tucked the rosters under his arm, and left for his tent.

Fergus' trek was a short one with his gait, and quickly found the tent he was looking for. He was going to toss open the entrance and barge in, though thought better of it and instead coughed loudly to gauge if she were inside.

The flap opened, and Amelia peeked her face out with a smile drawing back her lips when she noticed it was him. Her smile lighting up her pleasant features was something Fergus had come to enjoy. She stepped up, and waved to him.

"Folly says you came to visit the Chief's tent today," it had been posed as a question, but they both knew it was more of a statement. And Amelia had the decency to shy her eyes away for only a moment. "What's wrong, Amelia?"

Amelia opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but centered herself into taking a calming breath. Then the hand gesture's started, and Fergus had to be quick to just be able to understand half of it. He asked her to repeat the process, and she was more than patient with him, moving slower this time. ' I saw someone today,' her signs meant. Okay? To Fergus that literally could have been anybody, so when he asked her to try and be more specific, Amelia pondered on how to get her message across. Her eyes brightened again.

She made two thumbs up, then made her right hand do a half circle above the other, like leapfrogging.

"Chief?" She nodded happily, then made a second gesture. She started with her hand in front of her forehead like she was grabbing the brim to a baseball cap, then she brought the hand down in a slashing motion to come to rest in the crook of her other arm. "Chief's son. Bren? You saw Bren today, was there something wrong, is he in trouble?" Fergus was starting to get anxious, if Bren was in some kind of trouble, Naddok would need to know immediately.

This time, she shook her head. Hands back in front of her again, open and horizontal, she rolled them twice.

Fergus got the message, and his face darkened considerably. "That little shit, I specifically told him not to leave the Barge," he cursed, startling the woman with his sudden outburst and expression. He was going to head for the Circle, that was the only reasonable place he could think of where Amelia would have spotted the little turd.

Amelia reached out and grabbed him by the arm, her face marred with concern and betrayal in her pretty gray eyes. He honestly didn't like seeing her this way, but he could now understand her abrupt need to find him, this was partly his fault. She flitted about another series of gestures he read easily, 'You told me he died.'

"I lied." Fergus stomped off, leaving Amelia even more downcast, and hurt, than when she herself stormed off from the Circle. He could mend things with her later, explain his actions to her later. But not now, now he had a rebellious brat to find, and he knew right where to look.

(The Circle)

The trio was once again standing among the crowd gathered around the Circle, though Nick wasn't watching the fight, rather recounting the caps he'd earned from the little six-shooter he pawned off. Including what he appropriated from Michael, he now had eighty-seven caps, enough to buy some extra mags for his pistol if he could find some, and more small food items too. But the other two told him to save it, to wait until he knew exactly what he had to work with. He could wait, and he was more than happy to let that purse burn a hole in his pocket. Depositing it all into a small gecko leather wrap, he stuffed his money safely into his jacket pocket.

As Chance had walked off to talk to someone, he fell further into the crowd to watch the fight, noticing Bren had steered them both away from that Tye boy. And even though he hadn't made a personal opinion of him yet, he didn't question Bren's behavior. His eyes drifted onto the heir, noticing he wasn't watching the fight either, arms crossed and his brow scrunched. "If you're going to keep staring, why don't you challenge him to the Circle?"

Bren flinched imperceptibly, inquisitive eyes staring back at him. "It's not necessary."

"What do you mean, 'It's not necessary,'" he mocked, Bren lifted his hand from his crossed arms to point back into the Circle. The fight must've ended, because there was a new challenger, eyes staring impassively at those around him. "Who's that?" He stood right in the center, arms crossed like Bren, but with his hands tucked into his arms. His feet were spaced evenly, the same width of his shoulders in a strong posture. His skin was a natural light brown, unlike his own tanned skin; with a brown faded hair cut and dark eyes that seemed to convey little feeling. He was wearing a red cut-off shirt, and brown pants that tapered into a type of elastic hemming that sat above his mid-top red sneakers.

He was steady, and he realized his stare wasn't arrogant or demeaning. It simply 'was'. Nick could tell immediately that this kid had no worries about who stepped in to face him, whether it was someone like him, or someone as fierce as Chance. His eyes, what little they revealed, were searching.

"That's Martin," said Tye, strolling up to the two of them, situating himself between the two. Bren scowled, taking a step to the side and creating some space between the two. "I told you I'd tell ya' if he shows, and he's looking for you."

Nick's head tilted his way, "Why? I literally just got here." He couldn't have made any kind of impression already. He only won two fights. This guy had apparently been kicking ass and taking names for the last week; he was practically oozing confidence. Why would he want some newbie?

"He wants a piece of the 'new kid'. They've been talking about you since you left," Tye shrugged, not really caring for the details, "he must've caught word, too. You're doing what he did, a nobody that showed up and started winning. Maybe he wants to end your streak early?"

"It's what I'd do," Bren mentioned, eyes cutting back over to the young Khan, "Dog eat dog? Take out the new up and comer. He's probably looking to get recognized like you. Only sure way to the Rite." Austin had said the kid was having a good run, and he looked a bit heavier than his smaller tag-a-long. 'You better hold nothing back this time, Petty.'

"Okay then, I was looking to get noticed," Nick said, shaking his arms out and craning his neck to the side. "This is the best way to do it." Bren grabbed his things for him and followed, as the two started walking.

From outside the Circle, Fergus' pounding steps cleared the way as he drew up behind the proctor, when Petty finally turned up. He wasn't happy when Bren had materialized onto his line of sight either, just a moment after. Bren was standing at the edge, holding his charge's backpack and rifle, waiting for the challenger to present his bid. Fergus had half a mind to drag the boy back to the Barge, here and now; but tradition and his better judgement held him in place. To do that to the boy, it'd be a great disrespect to him.

It would seem as if the boy was being coddled, or protected, and even though that assumption was far from the truth, how would these kids know that? To them, Petty was just pulled by the Khan's second-in-line. It'd look like favoritism at best, and pampering at worst, especially with the chieftain's son at his back. It'd make him appear weak in front of his peers, and that'll just make things harder. No, he couldn't. He'd have to wait for the fight to play out.

And that boy, Martin, was no lightweight for their age group. He'd heard of this boy and had watched some of his matches per Naddok's request. It was for a recommendation, and the boy didn't disappoint. Naddok included his name among the list of hopeful prospects ready for their rite.

His eyes suddenly narrowed on Bren, 'Is that why you're here, boys,' he thought. Bren was privy to the minor details that a trip was planned for the North, and he knew they always took hopefuls along. Was he trying to get Petty noticed? Get him on that list?

Well, if the boy beat Martin, Fergus would put in a good word, he'd be obligated to in fact, it was a Khan tradition. That was, of course, after he gave the boy a good thrashing for disobeying him, again!

He was just too damn lenient with that boy sometimes, maybe he was coddling him, in his own way?

Nick stood stock still waiting for Martin to place his bid, instead he was questioned.

"So, you're Petty, right," he said, hands shifting from their crossed position and into his pockets, "you don't seem like much, but then again, I didn't either." His eyes had dragged up and down Petty's form, sizing him up.

"Yeah, that's me. And thanks for that," Petty shrugged, then shifted to match Martin's carefree stance, "so, what's your bid? Or are ya just here to check me out?"

Martin huffed but didn't appear taken by the jab. Pulling his left hand from his pocket, he held a card in his hand between his middle and pointer fingers. Nick couldn't read it from this far, but he could make out the insignia printed on it. It was an ace of spades playing card, with two black rifle silhouettes crossed over the large spade in the center. "It's a voucher card, for Frieda's Firearms. Unclaimed." He held it out to his side for the proctor to take and verify, "Basically, it's an I.O.U. Redeemable to whoever holds it."

The proctor was quick to snatch the voucher from Martin's hand, looking the small card over. With a quicker nod he announced the card was good, and now all eyes were on him.

He'd never heard of the shop, but apparently the proctor had, or he'd never have accepted what could be a useless phony. He still had to ask though, a little unsure of his bid, "What's the value on that, so I know what I'm working with."

The proctor gave him a quick once over, "That rifle," he said, point behind Nick and towards Bren. "Freida's shop is no joke son, not some 'pipe-built throw away' huckster."

The young boy could only shake his head, having to really consider the wager. The only thing he valued more than that rifle was Alban. It was his both were his breed winners; No rifle, no hunting. No horse, he'd have to lug whatever he killed back himself. "So that's how it is," he whispered shaking his head. Leveling his gaze on the proctor, he nodded his consent. Bren stepped forward and shrugged off the rifle for Nick to take, while he shrugged off his sleeveless army jacket for the older boy to relieve from him.

The proctor reached out and took the offered rifle, performing the same courtesy once over, guaranteeing it functioned properly.

"The wager's have been established and bets will now be taken," the proctor shouted for the crowd. A younger child, bucket in hand, followed a teen with a clipboard taking names and gambling totals. Nick rolled his shoulders out, Bren rejoining the crowd, and the Proctor handing of the prizes so he could retake his place in the center. As the rounds of betting ended, the man lifted his hand high into the air. "This is it, combatants ready?"

Nick nodded, as did Martin.

"Fight!"

Both boys rushed into the center, Martin stopping short to fire off a front kick. Nick had to spin around, almost taking the hit. Balance lost, he skid to the ground, but planted his feet like a sprinter and launched himself at Martin and slammed into the older boy, wrapping his arms around his midsection. Martin dropped an elbow onto Nick's back when he felt the boy trying to lift him off his feet, but was otherwise unfazed. Nick lifted again, this time finding purchase to use all his leg strength and he soon had the boy in the air. Tilting his weight, Nick dropped the teen on his top.

Martin managed to brace himself from landing on his head, but he was surprised the kid had managed to get him off the ground. Kicking his legs around, Nick was unable to maintain his hold and let go. Pushing the teen at the last moment, Nick made sure Martin didn't get the chance to get back on his feet. Nick threw himself on the boy's back, clinching Martin in a headlock. The boy tried to peel off Nick's arms, and when he couldn't, started to pulverize Nick's ribs and stomach with more elbow strikes.

Trying to hold the choke and grit through the blows, by the fourth impact he lost his grip. Nick was about to sit up and get back his breath, when he was thwarted by Martin as he whirled around, quickly returning the displeasure of having air denied to you. Martin's rough hands clamped around his throat, and the sudden pressure caused Nick's eyes to widen in panic.

This boy was much stronger than him, he could feel it now in his grasp. He had to break his hold, even for the short few seconds, stars danced on the edges of his sight. Targeting the soft spots of Martin's arms didn't work, and so Nick started bucking his hips and kicking out his legs and knees to find some room to act.

Letting go of Martin's hands, Nick reached up for the boy's face, and started digging his fingers wherever they'd sink. Martin shook his head about, snarling when Nick's probing fingers slide over his eyes, but couldn't stop the younger child from gouging his eye. Partially releasing his hold, Martin cocked one hand back to punch his downed and struggle opponent in the face.

Nick ate a second punch, but managed to get his legs free and finally broke Martin's grapple. Bucking again, he pushed the boy off him. Trying to stand, coughing hoarse with a hand to his bruised throat, Martin kicked him in the side with another front kick. He was sent rolling in sprawl a couple feet away. Again, he tried to get to his feet, but Martin fisted the collar of his shirt and did it for him, punching him in the stomach for good measure. Nick was gasping, short and ragged breaths. Martin righted the boy in front of him, and was ready to hit him again. Nick threw his arm up to parry the blow, and elbowed the teen across the face. Planting his foot on the teen's thigh, Nick used their combined weight to roll back to throw Martin off him to get some much need rest. It was short lived, Martin was relentless. Fucking kid just wouldn't let up.

Martin tried a quick combo, but he was kept out of range when Nick continued to dodge. This continued for several more punches until Martin backed off, hands up like a boxer, occasionally rubbing at his reddened and purple right eye.

He was breathing much heavier now. Those last two punches were slower, sluggish.

Nick was too, but his eyes narrowed in on Martin's. Boy was starting to run out of steam, eh? "I'm going to outwind you, ya fucker." Nick took on deep breath in through his nose and charged his target. Martin responded his a jab meant to clip him in the head, but Nick lurched with his leg, leaning his body as far back as he could. Driving his leg as deep as it would go, releasing the air he'd held within.

He felt the spittle sprinkle his face, as Martin doubled over, trying to back up and cover his ribs. He was hurt now, so lifting his hands into position, Nick advanced again. Martin fired another shot, only for Nick to beat away the arm. Same thing, for every punch the older boy threw. A few heavy handed throws later, Martin stepped in to clinch up, Nick sent an uppercut into the boy's solar plexus, opening up his defenses. Grabbing the sides of Martin's head, Nick brought his forehead down onto the other's nose.

Martin stumbled back, but was otherwise still standing, even it was barely. Blood was leaking from his nose and mouth, only his left eye really staring back at him, taking deep greedy breaths from his parted lips.

From outside the Circle, Fergus smiled to himself, "Can't see, can't fight. Can't breath, can't fight."

Nick took one last breath, before dashing to deliver on finally front kick into the boy's gut, finally putting the teen flat on his back where he stayed.

Nobody said a thing, the entire Circle was silent. Not even the bet winners. The Proctor came over to evaluate Martin's condition, but nonetheless called the fight. Nick didn't feel as though he'd won, especially when he saw Fergus, making his way towards him from the circle.

"Oh, fuck." He just knew he was going to catch a backhand and a lecture for this. . .

(The Next Morning)

"Listen up," Naddok called out to his assembled party, a good fifty strong, not yet including what the other camps could spare. All together it would amass more than enough men for what he needed, and enough to protect the Camps. Fergus had wrote up a full roster of a hundred and twenty-eight riders, so he'd be delivering on his word to London. It was a token force really, but it'd appease Papa Khan for now, 'Until we can decide on some measure of action, I'm not going to contribute a rider more,' he sighed, remembering his conversation with the runner, if he could really call it that. It felt more like he was reporting. His eyes fell on the younger faces among them, landing on his son's placid face first, and from there he noticed there wasn't a worried face among. . . Petty sat between Chance and another kid, observing him with his own stormy gray leer, battered and bruised as he was, all listening intently.

'They're composed at least,' They were the most talented so far, having been brought to his attention by various members over watching the youth. If things proceeded how he thought they would, then most of these boys would be full Khans."Our destination is Freeside, in New Vegas. Papa Khan has called us too convene with the tribes, and we're going to answer. We have yet to know exactly what Papa Khan demands," he sliced a glare at the runner beside him, "so bring everything you think you'll need for an extended trip. That means your firearms, food, supplies for the newbies. Stock up if you need too, we recently came into a surplus. We leave in four hours!"

Turning, he addressed some other men, his own messengers, before sending them out to inform the other Camps of Bullhead.

Nick watched Naddok walk off, Bren, the Runners, Fergus and a few of his Road Captains in tow, disappearing behind the canvas flap into Naddok's tent, probably to go into more detail about what the issue was. Things had been hush hush, but that didn't necessarily bother him. He was actually excited at the prospect of going north. He'd made the cut, beating Martin had done the trick. And Uncle being witness to it had been for the better, despite the hell he caught for disobeying; he rubbed at the fresh bruise on his face idly, the only one he got outside of fighting.

Nobody his age had gone this young before, but he wasn't the only one. Michael and his goon squad were going too, even Martin. So, while that realization thrilled him in a way, it was also enough to put him on edge. At the same time though, he'd be going up north, wasn't that what he wanted. . .too get away.

Chance came to a still at his side, and he looked up at the fair haired teen, "Remember yesterday, you impressed some of the adults, and Bren put in a good word for you," he started, matching his gaze. When the boy nodded, Chance continued, "also, word is things aren't looking good up north. And this vision business isn't helping." When Nick's eyebrow quirked, he figured he didn't quite follow, though he couldn't blame him.

"What do you mean," he asked, turning to face Chance fully. He remembered Chance mentioning that yesterday actually, and the whole thing with the Elder was weird too. All the other children that had been gathered, had their meet and greet with the Elder and apparently all was well, right? He didn't get it, and despite liking those stories of the Elder's, he wasn't much for beyond that.

Gesturing to the side with his head, Chance started strolling down the sandy footpath between the row of tents, keeping the pace, "I've asked around some of those kids gathered outside the Elder's tent. They weren't told why, but apparently it might have to do with the vision the Elder had. The adults that were there won't talk about it, and any kid old enough to be helpful wasn't in the tent it seems." Chance was getting frustrated with the whole affair, and he had 'talked' Bren into discussing about it later tonight, on the promise they'd keep it between them. Not even Jessup or McMurphy until it was time, Bren had demanded. Chance didn't need Bren to realize that what was happening had the Elder and his best friend's father in a tizzy.

"Really," Nick was just taking it in, he didn't really have anything that could be noteworthy to add. With a little more, he ventured a thought, if only to get the cogs moving in Chance's brain, "If the Elder was screening everybody, and if nobody was kept back then maybe it's because it doesn't affect us?" He doubted it, but once again, food for thought.

"No," Chance replied immediately, "I'd say the Elder definitely knew something, more than he or the adults are letting on. Maybe even about Bren."

"Yeah," Nick said, hands moving into his pockets as his eyes and tone became distant, "Bren's reading sounded like something, huh?" He tried to cover it with bitterness, as if to make it like an insult. Like a reading about controlling the entirety of Bullhead and even the Mojave under one tribe was anything to scoff at.

Chance knew better. Sure, he didn't doubt the bitterness, but he knew for a fact that the boy was hurting inside, every day just another battle against his own depressing situation. Chance knew what the boy really wanted. He wanted to be acknowledged, not as a nuisance or burden, but it wasn't about being a member of the tribe, that was a common respect, bastard or not. He wanted his birthright. But as he grew, the more he felt the need to prove himself; it started out with fights during games, or challenging older kids to a one on one brawl. A smile broke across his face, glancing at his best friend's younger sibling, 'Little bastard. . . gonna be a terror when he gets older, Fergus did well, Circle proved that,' kid could take a beating, and those older boys found that out the hard way yesterday. Plus, he was wily, he was fast and greatly enjoyed using the weight and height of taller opponents against them. Didn't always win either, but he had guts and he won when it mattered, that had to count for something.

His smile slowly dropped into a frown, Chance returned his eyes to the foot path less he run into someone. He also knew that the boy was looking for the first sign of opportunity to get out of the tribe, spending less time in camp. And other than himself, and Fergus from what he could tell, maybe Bren, there weren't many that accepted him, acceptance and tolerance were two different things. But if they wouldn't then why bother trying. Chance's frown deepened when the thought crossed his mind that most around here probably wouldn't have cared if the boy disappeared. "Don't dwell on that alright. Look, I'll talk to ya later, just go get your stuff and I'll meet up with you in a bit, alright?"

"Yeah, alright." Nick could only meander back to his tent, alone with his thoughts. In four hours, they'd be leaving Bullhead. From there on, everything would be alien to him.