Chapter 16: Spur of the Moment
Barabbas grabbed his supplies and equipment as he swept through the storage room. Tucked under his arm was a saddle, a rough-hewn thing mostly of tattered blankets and animal hide. Over his shoulder was a bag full of food, tinder, and other various sundries. The barest of essentials, but Barabbas wasn't intending to remain out of his territory for too long. He estimated that it would take about a month to thoroughly search the frontier long enough to satisfy his inklings, and he would have roughly a week until his father sent out a token force to retrieve him. As willing as he was to remain on the frontier until he found her, his obligations determined that he would have to work under a deadline.
Leaving the storage room, he heard the faintest sounds of celebration down the hallway. The proconsul Scorpio Oklahomus had arrived to celebrate his ascension to consul, effectively making him the fourth most powerful man in Texas, domestically, and rivaling the Legate himself regarding military matters. As much as Barabbas looked forward to ceaseless power struggles with the upstart, he dreaded the tedium and wanted nothing more than to order Scorpio to march north and conquer the Mississippi from the bottom up, eager to see how far the new consul would go to outdo his rival.
"The festivities are missing you," the voice called out. The grey-clad figure approached him, practically gliding over the floor. "What kind of leader misses an opportunity to mingle with his underlings?"
"I have other matters to attend to, mother," Barabbas snorted.
The brown-haired priestess glanced her clear-white eye over his saddle. "You intend to ride an army out to find that wastrel?" Sybil heckled, derisively.
"I know Hoovus will never find her. I know father will not even look for her. And I know how you feel about her. This is my task, and I will do it alone," Barabbas muttered.
Sybil laughed. "You really are your father's child. She is my blood, of my body, and of my life. And so when I say she is not worth looking for, understand that it is not a decision reached lightly."
Barabbas's eyes narrowed behind his helmet. "And what sin has she committed to make her so worthy of contempt? What crime so unforgivable that she would be condemned to exile?"
"Exile?" Sybil's eye widened. "You think that of me? So cruel and heartless? I commanded and ordered nothing. She CHOSE to leave of her own volition," Sybil pressed.
Barabbas brushed past her. "I'll bring her back."
"She doesn't want to return," Sybil coaxed.
"I'll see for myself," Barabbas countered.
"You're wasting your time," Sybil snapped. "Some fanciful quest isn't going to change that the Empire of Texas is better off without that-" she stopped and composed herself. "Her gifts have been squandered, her abilities lost upon worthier bearers. I cannot have another child. I could not fathom losing you chasing her. Please, Barabbas, for years you have been the only light in my life. Would you deny an old woman her only source of comfort?"
"And would you deny a child her elder brother?" Barabbas shot back. Sybil was his mother, one of the few people in Texas he loved, but even he could see through her ploy to garner sympathy. His mother had no shortage of sycophants, lackeys, and aspiring secret paramours to dote on at her leisure. Really, this was about having one of her blood in her corner when dealing with his father.
"…Fine," Sybil relented. "She demands no savior, and does not want to be saved, but you are your father's child. No point in arguing with you, I suppose." She placed a hand on Barabbas' breastplate. "Your gifts and abilities came first. Sense will follow shortly afterward, I pray."
Barabbas took his mother's hand from his armor. "Perhaps Scorpio will provide a shoulder for you to cry on?"
A piercing ache shot through his mind, almost keeling him over as the warrior braced himself. Eyes watering, Barabbas peered up to see his mother glaring down at him. "Careful, son, careful. I cherish you, but will only tolerate so much insolence."
A woman shot around the corner, concern etched on her face. "Master! Master!" she called out. Sybil abated her punishment, relief washing over her son as he placed his helmet on to disguise the notion. He turned to his concubine. "You may speak, Misty."
"Master, some of Scorpio's men ran into Kyra and cornered her near one of the hallways," she relayed.
"Is she in danger?" Sybil asked.
Misty noticed the Grand Oracle and fell on her face in submission. "Forgive me, I had not noticed you arrived."
"Your flattery is meaningless, girl, is her life in danger?" Sybil reiterated.
"Well… no, but…" Misty tried to interject.
"Then it is of little concern," Sybil answered as she strolled past. "If the rumors I heard are true, some "corrective" adjustments to her behavior are long overdue," she smiled.
Misty fought back a gulp, biting her tongue. A rough hand grabbed her arm and yanked her from the floor. "Where is she?" Barabbas asked.
"You'll help her?" Misty asked.
"I'll teach Scorpio not to interfere with what is mine. Lead the way, girl."
Kekos watched as the guards exited the mines, some carrying wounded comrades while others called for the workers to tend to their wounds. He noted with special bitterness that fewer had returned than had gone down before, making this the third such mission where that had been the case. He approached the lieutenant, having his arm wrapped in gauze while taking a sip of whiskey. "Well?" Kekos began.
"It's in too deep. Every time we try to smoke it out, it snatches another of us. If we want it gone, I think the best course of action would be to seal it in and starve it out," the lieutenant offered.
Kekos pondered the idea before shaking his head. "We cannot afford to miss our deadlines, we will be held responsible for missing our quota. Rest up your men, I will confer with Dinero and decide where we go from here."
The lieutenant and his men in earshot let out a dejected sigh. Before leaving, Kekos looked down at Marcy, munching away at her crackers, looking up at him. "In the meantime, keep an eye on the girl while I leave," Kekos ordered as he turned and left for the saloon. The lieutenant turned to the girl, who placed another saltine cracker into her mouth, not breaking eye contact. As she chewed, she moved the open sleeve towards him, the guard reluctantly taking another. This kid is a fucking freak, the lieutenant thought to himself. The girl dropped the sleeve and stormed away.
Meanwhile, in the saloon, Dinero propped his arm on the bar as he gazed upon the newcomer. The town rarely even had visitors, seeing as most people didn't find themselves this far out in the wasteland without an exceedingly good reason, let alone all alone. This woman, however, didn't exactly seem concerned by where she was setting up for the night, Dinero hoped. As much as he preferred his company to be roughly as young as he felt, he couldn't deny there was something enthralling about this silver vixen.
She wore a poncho over the rest of her gear, revealing only her gecko boots and weathered jeans. That said, despite her age, there was something particularly fetching about her piercing blue eyes. Of course, she wasn't exactly looking at her dashing aspiring date. Disinterested, she merely drummed her fingers on the bar, waiting for her unwanted drinking buddy to take the hint.
"You, uh, want me to get something?" Dinero asked.
"How about lost?" she suggested.
Markus laughed a little too loudly, slapping the table as he did. "I can't remember the last time someone came through this dump with a sense of humor! Ha! You're a peach, whatever that is!"
The woman closed her eyes, exhaled, and tried to be polite. "I'll take a whiskey if you folk carry that, Legion or otherwise."
"Barkeep," Dinero rapt two fingers against the wood. "Two whiskeys for myself and the lady!"
As two bottles slid down the bar, the woman caught hers without even glancing at it. "Cheers!" Dinero began to say, the words just dying on his lips as he watched in awe as the woman gulped down the entire bottle. Polishing it off, she slammed the bottle down, motioning the town owner to surrender his own.
"So… what brings ya to my humble abode?" Dinero asked as Silverhair attacked her second bottle.
"….Ah," Silverhair smacked her lips. "When's the last time you deal with any of those Rocky boys?"
"Rocky?" Dinero muttered. "Oh, you mean the RMX?"
"No, the stonecutters, of course the RMX!" Silverhair sneered.
"Well, I generally avoid dealing with them," Dinero laughed, nervously. "I mean, take one look at my bosses and tell me that I'm the kind of guy who could use more debts, hehe,"
"Spare me the fake humility," Silverhair scoffed. "You're a slaver. Don't expect me to pity you."
Dinero's lip began to curl. "That what you are? Some kind of "do-gooder?" Coming to start some kind of self-righteous war?"
"Perhaps," Silverhair placed down her bottle. "But not with you. My fight is with the RMX, and I would appreciate any information about them."
The humor slowly began to return to Dinero's face as he took his hand off his pistol. "A one-woman crusade against the shadowy capitalists. You wouldn't happen to be writing a pulp novel, would you?"
"When and where have you seen any of their guys?" Silverhair pressed.
"Well…" Dinero stroked his chin, "Some of my men did see one of their "foraging parties" going down south. I hear they like to pit some of the smaller tribes against the other, help themselves to the survivors when all is said and done. Drugs and guns for caps and bodies, you see."
"I do," Silverhair dropped a few caps on the table. "How long ago?"
"Bout a week?" Dinero offered. "Six guys. A skin dealer and some muscle."
"How'd you figure that?" Silverhair asked.
"Chain tattoo is generally a dead giveaway," Dinero offered.
"Well, at least you're observant," Silverhair admitted as she passed another few caps to the town owner. "Since you were helpful, I won't tell your masters about the liberties you've been taking when they aren't looking."
"Wait, you talk to my bosses?" Dinero gulped.
"Maybe. I'm real popular these days," she stated flatly as she slung her shotgun over her shoulder and strolled from the saloon. She brushed past Kekos as he approached his boss, ignoring Dinero's lingering eyes watching her as she left. "Markus, we need assistance," Kekos interrupted his boss's thoughts.
Shaking his head clear, Dinero brushed aside the notion. "One little snake and the whole operation shuts down? This is just plain shameful!"
"We need outside help," Kekos pressed. "Mercenaries or hired guns or something more than what we got."
"Bait?" Dinero asked.
"In as many words, I suppose," Kekos admitted.
"Well, try to keep this on the down-low, but the budget is running pretty thin," Dinero whispered. "We've barely been hitting the quota as is."
"So if we fail now…" Kekos responded in kind.
"Want to cut our losses now and bounce?" Dinero suggested, disguising it as a joke.
"How good will two pampered old geezers fare in the wastes, Markus?" Kekos asked, rhetorically.
Dinero sighed, massaging his temples as the lieutenant came in. "Sirs, I… I don't know how, but…"
"If it's not good news, save it," Dinero scoffed.
"The girl, she went into the mines! I don't know how, but…" he was stopped when Kekos grabbed him by the collar. "I TOLD YOU TO LOOK AFTER HER!" he snarled.
"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" the lieutenant pleaded. "One second she was there, and the next she wasn't! I can't explain it!"
"Unbelievable," Kekos snarled as Dinero reached behind the counter to pull out a shotgun. "What do we do now?" Kekos asked.
"What do you think, you idiot!" Dinero shot back. "Find Marcy before she gets hurt!"
Kyra's wrist was slammed against the wall as the armored soldier glanced up and down her body. "This the one, Puzon?"
"Think so. I doubt I'd ever seen a body that fine on a savage," his partner giggled. "Kind of a shame that she was gifted to the Legate, but with the rest he has, I doubt he'd miss one."
The soldier drew out a gladius, angling it towards the belt holding Kyra's dress together. She tried to struggle, either gingerly swatting the blade away or wriggling out of the grip on her wrist. She was absolutely not going to scream, as it could attract the last kind of attention she wanted, and she would not cry, no matter what happened to her.
"What's going on, here?" A lazy drawl called out, causing both soldiers to stand at attention while a cold chill ran down Kyra's back.
The young consul had custom armor, a silver bull emblazoned on gold-tinted iron. A purple cloak was draped over his shoulders, and golden locks cascaded down his neck. He was undeniably handsome, and to Kyra, a face she could never forget.
He placed the end of his spear on the ground, leaning on it as he quietly appraised the struggling woman. "I… know you…" he said, finger gradually pointing at her as he began to recognize her, a smile creeping on his face.
Kyra fought back the fear and revulsion of seeing her people's butcher in the flesh once again, he who roasted the elderly in their huts, put their warriors to the blade, and carted away the women and children in chains. Kyra herself had been appraised and "gifted" while the rest of her "sisters" were taken by the soldiers. This man's name was Scorpio Oklahomus.
"…Lyra, right?" he grinned as he hazily remembered her name.
Kyra glared at him. She remembered the indignities Scorpio had put her through. Gagged and tied to a stake, watching as his men routinely dishonored and shamed the once proud women of her tribe. Despite everything between them, Kyra grieved their fates, and hoped their next lives would be free of those like Scorpio and Barabbas.
"…Hey, men. You remember that trick I told you about, right?" Scorpio asked. "Grab her other arm and hold her still."
Kyra felt the other pair of hands grab her other arm as she was held in place. Scorpio picked up his spear, moving the shaft behind him as he tried to figure out how to approach it. "…Three strikes," Scorpio called out.
And so, the spear, angled from behind Scorpio, shot out and struck near Kyra three times, twice close to the shoulders and once near her hips. Kyra braced for impact, wincing and shutting her eyes as she felt the wind of the blade sting her skin, though she felt no blood drawn. She did, however, feel the fabric covering her body begin to drop and fall, as she discovered to her horror. Her dress, selected for special occasions to showcase her body and the status of her master, was now in a pool around her feet.
Scorpio took a bow while the soldiers verbally applauded their leader, hands still holding Kyra to the wall. Kyra wanted the next blow from the spear to skewer her. "Thank you, thank you," Scorpio nodded his head. "And I once again gaze my eyes over the delicacy I so generously parted with. Tell me, slave, do you think of me when your master has you?"
Kyra looked away, her eyes stinging from the humiliation. "Well, well, I didn't think the rumors were true, but it looks like my suspicions were right! Barabbas has tired of one he has not touched!" Scorpio laughed. "Turn her around, boys, I want another view!"
The men swung Kyra around, planting her face and chest against the wall. She heard Scorpio approach, and couldn't hide a shudder as his hand brushed up her flank.
"Putting a child in you would be an insult even I can't justify after the fact," Scorpio said as he rubbed her rear. "That being said, there are ways to handle a slave without anyone knowing otherwise," he said as he began to clutch it.
"I'll tell him," Kyra finally whispered.
Scorpio grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head closer to him. "So, you finally learn to speak, then?"
"I will tell my master what you did to me. He will hurt you, I swear," Kyra gritted.
A smile crept across Scorpio's face. "As if the word of some paid-for womb-on-legs will have any bearing on my legacy. Caesar adores me, the Senate is my friend, and the Oracle selected you personally. Still, just because her son hasn't gotten around to you is no reason to deprive myself of any fun," he said as he fumbled with his belt.
"SCORPIO!" Barabbas called out. Instinctively, Scorpio's soldiers snapped to a salute, releasing Kyra. All three of the visiting legionaries turned to see Barabbas rounding the corner.
"My liege," Scorpio began, his demeanor changing to a more formal, significantly more respectful intonation. "I was merely taking it upon myself to educate your property regarding the-"
"BOW!" Barabbas bellowed.
Immediately, Scorpio's knee slammed into the ground. Before he even realized what was happening, the consul felt an immense weight forcing his body to kneel. He knew Barabbas had this ability, a gift he shared to an extent with his mother. What Scorpio did not believe, however, was that he would be subjected to it. Immediately, he felt the rage boil in his stomach. Barabbas was wryly amused by the notion.
Kyra, sensing her chance, immediately picked up the rags at her feet and began running to the safety of the man who owned her. Halfway across, though, she stopped and turned around, seeing Scorpio kneeling. One moment, she was thinking about how Scorpio had spent an evening in his tent inspecting her body before sending her to a pen. The next, she was running past Barabbas, her knee slightly aching as Scorpio's bodyguards screamed in outrage, their leader clutching his forehead as it began to swell, the Legate's laughter fading in the distance.
It didn't take long for Misty to find her, sobbing in a corner holding the tattered remains of her dress, shivering in either cold or fear. She had been prepared for the worst, bringing an extra set of clothing and a wineskin of warm broth, and was thankful it hadn't escalated further than she expected.
"I know, Ky, I know," she consoled as she patted the woman's shoulder.
"I hate this place," Kyra sobbed. "I just want to get away."
"As bad as this place is, it can be worse outside," Misty tried to comfort. "Look, I used to run with a group out west called the Fultman Gang. I remember this one winter we almost starved, till some folk came and bailed us out. Owed them something fierce, and they put me on the market not long after, and I found myself here. Point is, whenever things start feeling unbearable, I think back to that heinous winter and count my blessings."
Kyra thought back to her tribe, how she had been ostracized and considered cursed, and how despite everything wanted nothing more than for those days to return. At least then she still had her friends and a family who accepted her, more or less. A bad day with the tribe was vastly superior to the best day she had here.
"You, uh, might want to lay low for a little bit," Misty continued, hesitantly.
"That's all I've been doing since I got here," Kyra sniffed.
"No, I mean, Barabbas is fixing to leave Fort Wrath," Misty explained.
"Best news I've heard all day," Kyra stated, her spirits slowly beginning to lift.
"And the reason Scorpio is here is because he'll be running things while he's gone," Misty concluded.
The next thing Misty realized was the warm wineskin hitting the ground, soup broth pouring from it as the woman who had been drinking from it immediately began bolting down the corridors to the stables. She meant what she said, she would rather be anywhere than here. She just never imagined that this is how desperate she would become.
"KID!" Dinero called out as he held the lantern in front of him, Kekos covering his back with the shotgun. Neither man was known for being particularly hands-on with their operations, but both had taken the child as a shared personal duty. It wasn't every day that an opportunity to personally groom a successor came around, and both shared some level of amusement over the amount of discomfort she caused the staff. Even more than that, it was a little girl lost in a cave with a monster. Even after all they had done, there were some lines that even they didn't want to cross.
Perhaps it was old age that made them sentimental or guilt over past actions that made them balk over who they had been or things they had done. They played with the Legion because it was supposed to be safe, the better option in a world that generally did not have their comfort in mind. They fucked over a lot of people, and they justified it by telling themselves that it was inevitable, it was just the way the world worked and nothing they ever did could change it. Kind of hard to say the same thing when it is the little girl you more or less adopted wandering alone in a cave.
"Kekos, how big did you say this thing was?" Dinero asked as he readied his pistol.
"You saw the brahmin, right?" Kekos answered. Dinero gulped, the damn thing had been bitten in half, lengthwise. It was missing two right legs and a head.
They passed through the scaffolding, ignoring the bloodstains on the wood and the trail it had left behind wider than both of them. "Marcy," Dinero whispered. "Come back, please," he continued, nervously.
"Mark," Kekos hissed, motioning his boss to hold in place. Dinero stopped, seeing that his lanternlight had caught the glimpse of the back of a small girl, sitting in place. "Marcy!" Dinero cried out, rushing towards her while he ignored the thing that caught Kekos' attention. As he drew closer to Marcy, he realized that there was a shadow that didn't back away from the lanternlight. A shadow that shimmered and breathed as two eyes fell upon him, its mouth opening to reveal a mouthful of fangs.
The Massasauga was a rare yet legendary creature in the southwest wastes. Generally solitary, this animal could grow to be roughly one hundred or so feet long, and had a mouth big enough to swallow a man whole, as several members of the mining crew and security team could recently attest. It could also rattle, the sound of which, when amplified by the echo in the cave, could force a lesser man to vacate his bowels, Dinero thought as he silently thanked that he had already gone an hour earlier.
Marcy turned to look over her shoulder to the quivering Dinero and the near-panicking Kekos as the latter attempted to load the shotgun. She held her hand out and motioned both men to put down their weapons. They stared at one another, looking back to the girl who was sitting right in front of the creature that by all rights should have devoured her. They acquiesced to her "suggestion," placing down their weapons and were quietly relieved when the rattle died out.
The four held their positions for minutes, Marcy staring at the snake, the snake staring back, and the two guys trying to make sense of what was happening. Finally, the snake rose off the ground and retreated further into the tunnel. Dinero took the opportunity to check on Marcy while Kekos watched the snake, not relaxing until he finally saw the faintest pinpoint of light at the very end of the darkness. The snake had left the mines.
"Marcy, what in the hell were you thinking?!" Dinero called out. "You almost got yourself killed! I'd have to give you a funeral, and what am I going to say about you during that?! "She came here about a week ago, she was cool, I guess?" Lame! How would you feel if I… Tom!" Dinero cried out, his tone changing from castigation to panic. Marcy fell back limply in his arms, a thick stream of blood trickling down her nose. "Should we take her out? Get a doctor in? I don't know what to do, I don't…" Kekos interrupted his boss by taking the girl in his own arms, carrying her out back to town, Dinero bringing the light behind him.
Atop a nearby bluff, a pair of eyes watched as the monster snake burrowed its way out of the mine. Pulling the binoculars down, the man got on the radio. "Rubi, I've found our new hideout."
"Sheol, we can't risk another fight in our condition, we don't have the men or supplies," the voice complained over the air.
"Won't be a fight," Sheol grinned as he took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his scarred, bald head. "This little town I'm looking at is too lax and just had a Massasauga tear its security apart. Give me twenty guys and I'll have it secured, then we can dare those California punks to come in after us."
"Think our dear leader will go for it?" Rubi asked.
"Our dear leader is on his deathbed, practically," Sheol said without emotion. "Tell him we found the hole we will bury him in, that should get him interested."
"I'll have some guys moving to your position. Might be a little touch and go, we haven't shaken off those blasted commandos, but if you are being honest, that mine might be everything we need. Got a plan for the owners and occupants?"
Sheol drew out his plasma pistol. "I'm thinking the usual."
Barabbas stood, blade planted before him, outside the racetrack as he waited for the staff to retrieve Belua. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the hilt of his great cleaver, watching the birds circling over the track itself. It seemed that a few handlers had gotten careless. Canid handling being what it was, he took the opportunity to fasten the spurs to the heels of his boots.
He heard the patter of sandaled feet, followed closely by a handful of guards screaming at their pursued to return back to the arena where she belonged. Looking up, he saw his newest concubine throw herself face-first before him, grabbing onto his boot right as the sentries caught up with her.
"Please don't leave me alone with him!" Kyra pleaded.
"My Legate, forgive us for not stopping her. She's quick," the panting sentry admitted while one of his partners doubled over.
Barabbas pulled his foot off the ground, Kyra only tightening her grip around it. Awkwardly, he looked to his sentries and to Kyra. "Let go," he ordered.
"Only if I have your word that he will not lay a finger on me," Kyra tried to negotiate.
"I said let go," Barabbas growled.
"Tell me!" Kyra pleaded.
"Release!" Barabbas snarled.
Suddenly, Kyra felt as if her entire body was on fire. In her mind's eye, she peered up to see a snarling bear, engulfed in flames. Instinct demanded she let go. Something even deeper said no, and she held on for her dear life.
Barabbas hesitated. "…RELEASE!" he snarled. Kyra felt her head split in two. She didn't think she was dying. Dying had to be easier than this. She clutched and held and endured all the pain. It would be so easy to just let go, wouldn't it?
An arm reached down and pulled her up by the shoulder. Barabbas stared into the glazed-over eyes of his concubine. This was unusual. Despite all his focus, she disobeyed him. That wasn't possible, all his history with his gift indicated that it was impossible for someone lacking the gifts to do the same. Granted, it looked like he might have gone too far, he half expected to see vapor spewing from her ears.
"I think you broke her," one of the sentries offered.
"Quiet," Barabbas ordered. All sentries ceased their murmuring. "Good. Still have it," Barabbas chuckled quietly to himself as he slung Kyra over his shoulder.
The gates to the stable opened. Four handlers came out, hands around ropes as they pulled the beast from the pen. A hound the size of a small automobile was dragged out of the shadows, its matted fur marked with scars while its slobbering jaw drooled as it eyed one of the handlers. It was upon him in no time, mauling the unfortunate while his partners attacked the animal with shock batons, to which it ignored.
Barabbas approached the beast, and with a single blow from his armored fist, struck it across the snout with enough force to break the bones of a man. The animal was dazed, dropping its mangled prey, and glared down its master. The bull-helm stared back, impassively. Before long, the beast bowed its head towards its rider.
Barabbas draped Kyra across the animal's flank. "Your wish is granted," he muttered, chuckling to himself as he fitted the animal with the saddle. Completing it, he grabbed the reins and snapped them. "Belua, go!" he ordered. And so the beast set forth from Fort Wrath, taking the riders down the interstate as they rode to the west, towards an uncertain future for a mission driven by hope.
Excerpt from the Judicial Marshal Basic Training Guide and Manual
Current relations with Caesar's Legion: I know what most of you are thinking. I can't blame you. Name something horrible, and the Legion has done it with aplomb. We are not on the best terms. The thing is, those aren't necessarily hostile terms. The Legion has been laying low and we haven't seen any activity in the surrendered territory. The Legion, for all intents and purposes, declared a ceasefire. And we will honor that ceasefire, NO EXCEPTIONS! Regardless of whether they are regaining their strength or falling apart for good, we will not engage in combat with the Legion for the foreseeable future. Mostly because they are nowhere near Mojave territory, but also because if we were to engage in open warfare, despite everything we can bring to the fight, VICTORY WILL NOT BE ASSURED! Besides, you should know Lanius isn't the only one you should worry about. -Deputy Chief Natalie Boone
Make it look like an accident- Deputy Chief Craig Boone
Disregard that last bit of advice- Deputy Chief Natalie Boone
Don't waste time negotiating- Deputy Chief Craig Boone
Gaunt, if you print this, I swear to God- Deputy Chief Natalie Boone