Alto and the twins struggle with the canvas, a still recovering Samantha barely helpful as her tiny body tries to anchor the interior of the sheet while Samuel savagely pulls on the exterior with an augmented strength.

“Hold it there.” Alto softly orders as the mage somehow manages to guide the canvas into a somewhat acceptable position.

A securing rod retrieved from the truck bed, quickly driven in through the pre-holed canvas.

“This is an uneven construction.” Samuel immediately notes as both of them step back from the exterior. “We will need to replace it.”

Alto smiles slightly. “Eventually, but it will have to do.”

Samantha asks an extremely impatient question, her cold voice muffled from behind the now completed covering. “Is the duty complete?”

“It is.” The sibling replies.

Jumping from the small step of the truck and back into the world, Samantha takes a moment to observe the vehicle from their perspective. She begins with her own observation. “This is an uneven construction. We will need to replace it.”

Alto’s smile remains unchanged as he repeats himself. “Eventually, but it will have to do. Now, all…”

“Hey!” Madeline works on more simplistic, unproductive tasks compared to the rest of them. An interruption welcomed as she holds together a fistful of spare clothing fabric and canvas, the utility blade in her other hand casually juggled. “You people might want some of these.”

Square cloth sheets neatly folded, an implied usage as bandanas from their thinner, more breathable textiles. Multiple origins on the six pieces, from old uniforms and undergarments now a necessity for protection against the first wave of dust.

She reaches behind her back as she retrieves the spare canvas. “And I got a gift for ya Samantha.”

The girl takes a blank look at the slightly dirty rag, a gaze switching back to the Bandit. “What is the nature of this gift?”

Madeline motions for her, towards the item currently holstered at her back. “You mind if I touch your gun for a bit. Pinky promise I won’t steal it.”

“No.” Samantha coldly barks.

Samuel makes his own observation from logic. “You have just allowed her to take your weapon.”

“I did not.”

Madeline chuckles, strolling over behind her as she unravels the canvas and rope. “Yeah you did. Now please don’t kill me Samuel, I won’t harm your sister. Pinky promise.”

He watches with utmost attention, the Bandit, well aware of the hair-trigger nature of Samuel in regards to his sibling, moves with slow deliberate motions. One hand takes the barrel of the firearm, the cold alien surface seemingly reacting to the warmth of human touch as it immediately saps temperature from her body.

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There are four lines across its square barrel, currently glowing a low blue in the resting cycles of a sleeping beast awaiting its next hunt. A power of gods, contained within its conspicuous body almost demanding a showmanship to its iconography.

Her mind makes the realization of the item as she begins to wrap the canvas around the barrel, an arcane construction found not only in the deserts beyond the great mountain ranges of the midlands but also the very containment walls of their world.

And she carries one too, a divine instrument for their kind; for their salvation.

She simply ignores that thought, a selective ignorance the greatest cure for the unimaginable scale of their adventure.

“Done!” She declares.

Unholstered from the girl’s back, Samantha and Samuel both inspect the modification together.

Alto warns the pair with an uncharacteristic seriousness, a lecture begun towards Samantha alone. “Hey watch where you point it, and keep your finger off the trigger!”

Dirty fabric covering the barrel of the anti-material rifle, a mortal disguise against divinity enough to suppress the glowing blue lines.

Samantha narrows her eyes. “Is this…”

Madeline smirks. “Yeah it's not good to be toting around something that obviously looks like a magic weapon; marks you as a target for getting your throat slit while you sleep.”

Alto gives a concerned glance to her, the violent words spoken in front of children enough to trigger a protective instinct. “That’s… a bit extreme.”

“Well, it's what I would’ve done if I was a bad person.”

Samantha gives her analysis of the item, staring back at the Bandit. “I do not like this modification. It reduces the item's visibility.”

Her sibling disagrees, Samuel’s cold answer to her objection sounded. “It is a useful modification as it reduces the item’s visibility.”

“I am not in agreement.”

“Your personal aesthetic opinion is irrelevant, the reduction in item visibility will benefit us.”

Samantha narrows her eyes at her sibling. “I liked the colors.”

“Your enjoyment of its colors is still irrelevant.” Samuel coldly replies. “The discussion is relevant to the visibility of the…”

Madeline interrupts the collective argument with her own announcement. “And Judge Murphy’s back! Say hello!”

One figure approaching the perimeter of the group, the old man walking with hands within his duster’s pockets and a face underneath the wide brimmed hat a familiar sight to the current group.

A curt nod in reintegration, only Alto vocalizing a greeting to him. Respectful tone deserving of rank, alongside a small smile. “Welcome back Judge.”

Madeline inquires first, a soul ready for news. “What did Centralis say?”

“The link is one way only.” Judge Murphy succinctly indicates, transitioning to the actual objective at hand.

“Well, guess we’ll find out when we get there.” The woman smiles, clapping her hands together loudly. “Now, are we ready to travel? Everyone say aye!”

A mental calculus from all members of the party, trying to pull an account on both the nature and supply of their travels to come.

“Aye.” Judge John Murphy dryly confirms.

“Aye.” Samantha and Samuel both vocalize at the exact same time.

The most unexpected words come from the monster in their midst, Ar’s confirmation almost making them jump as his form pulls upon each of their existences. “I am ready.”

Silence, just one more member of their group speaking up.

“One thing.” The Gunslinger rises with a soft tone, the tragic smile upon his face. “A prayer, for safe travels.”