After half an hour of Dirk’s restless squirming and Armistice’s failed attempts at convincing the old man to rest for just a little bit more, the old veteran got gently kicked out of the office, as even the doctor’s patience was bound to run dry pretty quickly when it came to childish foolishness of his patients. That one facet of his medical profession was the one constant that came with working with, and on, other people, be it in a tidy office, or deep in the trenches.

- Keep hydrated and well-rested. No all-nighters for a long while if you can help it. No combat-rolls, no heavy workouts and definitely no driving for at least two to three days, unless you want to send all of us into an early grave.

- I’ll do what the job requires me to do. - Dirk scoffed over the shoulder with one foot already out of the room.

- It requires you to not get an aneurysm. - he shot back with a kind of simmering indignation before the door closed between them.

“Aneurysm…” Dirk rolled his eyes. “If I was going to get one, it would have happened ages ago.”

Dirk took a deep, exhausted breath, despite being awake for less than an hour, and was immediately hit with the stale, heavy odor that only a truck full of men with limited water supply and a single tap next to the shitter for cleaning purposes could have. Add to that a tinge of dried blood, and the mixture became truly volatile, especially for a person freshly risen from the grave. It made Dirk’s face scrunch up a bit, but he’d smelled worse in his day.

If Dirk had to admit one thing to the doc, it was that his place at the very least was clean, both in appearance and smell. There was a faint note of formaldehyde there, but it was preferable, all things considered.

But since the blood was still in the air, it couldn’t have been too long since he’d blacked out. Anywhere between 16 hours and just over a full day.

Dirk shook his head. It didn’t matter. Now was the time to fix whatever the others managed to mess up in that short amount of time, starting with the cab and the unauthorized drivers within.

It wouldn’t take long, since the cab was a stone’s toss away. With confidence befitting his position as the designated driver, Dirk opened the door without as much as a knock and entered, only to be blinded by the sheer whiteness that peered at him through the windshield. So it was the middle of the day, with a snowstorm for good measure.

Spoon turned around with an annoyed look - that was new. His helmet laid on the dashboard, revealing his dark complexion. Based simply on the man’s voice Dirk would have never guessed he had gypsy roots. Darker skin, pitch black buzz cut were heavily contrasted by uncountable acne scars covering his face. At least Dirk thought those light spots all over man’s face were acne scars But after a second glance he discovered their true nature.

Those were burn marks, ones that healed very poorly.

Michael had his eyes in front, focused on driving, but Dirk could tell that he was tense, his muscly arms bulging as he gripped the wheel without as much as an acknowledgement of his arrival.

- Well, if it isn’t the wannabe general? - the youngling hissed.

- What was that? - Dirk shot back almost immediately, the word “general” referring to him sending a chill down his spine. Was the secret out?

- Whatever, you bastard. Since you’re back in, I’m out. - he barked all too quickly as he grabbed his helmet, ready to head out, but got stopped by Dirk as they rubbed shoulders.

- What’s with the tone? - he pierced the little shit with a cold stare. There was a lot he could let go, but not first thing after waking up.

- Oh, there’s a lot more to it than just the tone. Raise a gun on me or my mates again, and I will be the one delivering a bullet to your gob.

- What is this about? - Dirk naked without much thought. He’d only wanted to send Ted a clear message back in the woods. Unless…

- Don’t bother. - Michael cut in, his cold tone vastly different to his usual warm demeanor. - I told him everything.

- About what?

- Playing dumb won’t help you here. If not for Miss Prusk, you’d have Match’s blood on your hands by now. And for what? For him getting scared a little when all hell broke loose? “Breaking formation,” maybe? Don’t make me laugh.

- Don’t speak so lightly, salesman. - Dirk growled back, his nerves already strained. - If not for that formation, we’d all be dead long before we even had a chance to take a good look at the enemy.

- Spoken like a true military man. - Michael scoffed. - A mindless Imperial puppet.

- Watch your mouth.

- Or what? You’ll shoot me too? - he stomped on the break, causing the truck to jerk forwards. - The last two people who tried to start something got put on their asses. - he added, raising from the driver’s chair to meet Dirk’s miffed gaze with that of simmering rage.

- Ted didn’t forget about that, by the way. - Spoon spat out, seemingly fed up with both of the men, but just as he was about to shove his way out, the door to the cab opened, almost hitting him in the face.

- Keep it down you shitstains. - the voice of Black resounded from the corridor before he even stepped foot in the cab.

- Great, just what we needed. - Michael huffed, crossing his arms. - Would you mind stepping out? This is a private conversation. - he spoke with authority and an evident lack of patience.

- Private my ass, you half-witted larder. Can’t even take a nap with the way you are driving! It’s a wonder you haven’t driven us into a ditch yet. - his eyes were scornful and more tired than usual. He shifted his gaze to Spoon just as the door slammed shut. - Should have shot that little shit buddy of yours if you ask me.

- You fucking bastard! - Spoon barked back, his hand flying to his belt, but it was stopped by Michael’s firm grasp.

- Stand down! - he bellowed. - All of you! The last thing we need is a shootout. - he commanded. - So you knew? Actually, nevermind. Leave, before I make you. I don’t need any more complications here! - he snapped at Black, but only got a disdainful smile in return.

- There’s nothing to complicate. The little shit had it coming. There’s nothing more deadly for a group fighting for their damn lives than a weak link who can’t even stand in line like a proper soldier.

- Let me make one thing clear to you two. - Michael squeezed his fists like he was about to strangle someone. - I don’t know what kind of expectations you two have of us, but they are clearly misplaced. This is not the army. It never was. If you are still kidding yourselves that you’ll get perfect pawns who fall in line the moment you stomp your boots a little, then you are sorely mistaken. You have no authority here besides the one we give you. - he huffed, anger in his eyes - And with the little maneuver you pulled, I have no more trust in you. - he faced Dirk, his whole body resonating with grim resolve.

- So what is this about? A revolt? - Dirk scoffed.

- Call it what you will, but that’s a generous assessment, considering you waltzed in here just assuming you’re the boss. I followed your orders on a gut feeling that you were fit for the role, but trying to kill those under you is where I draw the line. Even if the three idiots are a pain in the ass.

- And maybe you want to lead, huh, tons-of-fun? - Spoon gave the man a side-eye, his expression betraying that he felt surrounded by enemies.

- No. We’ll hold an election later on. Maintain a modicum of civility.

- Losing time on pointless bickering while there’s a legion of mutants out to get us. Should have stayed in your cozy kiosk, because you clearly don’t know how things work on the battlefield. - Black chastised the man with all the bile he could muster.

- The alternative is a complete collapse of any kind of teamwork. But fine. I’m a reasonable man. I’m willing to at least hear the reason as to why you’d pull this kind of shit. - he turned to Dirk, expectations plastered on his face like a fine tapestry.

- I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. Especially not amateurs playing pretend as a military unit. - by this point, Dirk’s inhibitions were pretty much gone, his mind muddled with anger and the memory of Ted trying to shoot him. But was there a point in mentioning that now?

- So those are your true colors? - the rotund man pressed with disappointment.

- Always were. Some people are just too blind to see the signs. - Dirk dismissed him with a wave of a hand. - You either do the job right, or you shouldn’t bother at all. Some of you clearly shouldn’t be here if holding a line is proving too difficult.

Michael sighed heavily and reached for his belt, where a short-range radio was hanging. He took it in one hand and spoke into the receiver.

- You heard all that?

- Yeah… - a female voice crackled back with sadness. It was Barbara.

- I think this makes things pretty clear-cut, don’t you?

- I dunno. He’s an old grump. Do you think he’d admit to a mistake? Maybe he got confused. Got knocked in the head and mistook Match for the enemy? - the mech pilot fumbled for an explanation, which only baffled Dirk further. She knew exactly what happened, their short exchange not long ago pretty much confirmed that. So why bother covering for him?

- Did you, or did you not, have to stop him from shooting your teammate?

- … I did. - she conceded.

- There you go. You’re a kind soul, Ms Prusk, but there are things, actions that can’t be taken back. I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on defending Chernobog, but it’d be best if you moved on.

- Are you done? Is the humiliation ritual over? - Dirk shook his head, clearly unaffected by the weight of the situation. To show weakness now was to walk among the wolves.

- Unrepentant ‘till the very end. - Spoon clicked his tongue, finally shoving his way out of the room.

- If that’s all, I relieve you of your temporary driver duties.

Michael stared him down, his eyes searching deep for… something. Something he didn’t find.

- East Wind agreed to meet us halfway, because there’s some tricky terrain further down the road. The coordinates of the meeting spot are marked in the console. We’re a stone’s throw away, so just get there and wait for them. - he spoke with no emotion. His face became weirdly menacing when he was not smiling.

- Roger that. - Dirk responded in a strictly-business tone, then let the man take his leave.

- Don’t let the idiots cloud your judgement. Strong leaders have to make hard decisions. - Black patted Dirk’s shoulder reassuringly, but it felt forced to Dirk. - Next time, just let me dirty my hands.

With those words, he left, but in his stead appeared another figure, perhaps the only one Dirk wanted to see at this very moment. Jason bent down to fit through the door frame and gently closed the door as he made his way in silently. Dirk collapsed onto the driver’s seat with a huge exhale, massaging the bridge of his nose, while Jason sat beside him, his helmet obstructing any and all emotions that might have shown on his face, but his restless hands gave away his unease.

- Are you feeling alright? - Dirk broke the awkward silence, pondering if he should even look at Jason in his current state, or if the young man would be able to read too much from his eyes like he always seemed to be able to do. - Are the burns okay?

- I should be the one asking. - he murmured back. - I’m good as new, but you…

- I’m fine.

- Are you really?

- Are you implying something?

- The team’s been falling apart while you were snoozing.

- Yeah, I can see that.

- You want a rundown?

- I really don’t right now… But don’t hold back.

- Ted and his buddies tried to take over. Ted said that he’d sooner eat his balaclava than ever listen to your commands again. Said that all you do is bark impossible orders while his mates get torn to shreds. But Michael socked him in the face so hard he staggered back a few meters. It wasn’t a sucker punch, either. They traded blows for a solid five minutes.

- I see… - Dirk huffed out, righting himself in his seat and reaching for the ignition.

- I don’t think you should strain yourself quite yet. Let me drive if we have to go.

- Can’t do that. Our cover’s already getting shaky… - he strained his mouth for a second, the “because of me” part was left unsaid. - Can’t risk anyone seeing you behind the wheel. Besides, our next stop is close by. I can manage.

- I–

- Just… - Dirk interrupted. - Don’t make me look any more uncool, alright?

Jason kept quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch for way too long, before letting out a chuckle.

- Didn’t take you for the type to care about that.

- You wouldn’t believe…

- Fine, but I’m stopping you by force if I see you overdoing it.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

- You can certainly try. - Dirk cracked a cocky smirk, but deep down knew that Jason wasn’t kidding.

Dirk booted up the small display screen on the dashboard where the charted path was supposed to be waiting for him. Sure enough, the surrounding terrain was thoroughly charted and a very specific path through the scarred land was laid out before him. This level of detail was honestly impressive, with each turn specified by a coordinate and the exact turn angle, as well as small visual landmarks to facilitate easy navigation. Dirk couldn’t tell how useful the latter would be, considering the snowstorm, but he appreciated the professionalism, even if the attention to details seemed a bit overzealous.

He got to driving and found the experience somewhat pleasant. Maybe it was the thrum of the engine, or the pitter-patter of the snow on the windshield, but he managed to calm down a little. The conversation with Michael was a giant fiasco, but there was nothing to be done about that for now. If they couldn’t keep up with him at the helm, then perhaps it was best that they choose a leader more on their level. Dirk had done everything he could to ensure the group’s survival and that was that…

And yet something gnawed at the back of his mind. A feeling of dissatisfaction, and a bubbling need for vengeance, which he quickly pushed down. Maybe if Ted hadn’t pushed him before, then perhaps Dirk wouldn’t have lost his temper. But navigating all the what-ifs was a pointless endeavor. He fucked up, end of story. Dirk wasn’t the type to relent just to stay on people’s good side. He’d just have to power through until his reassignment. He still had the form in his bag, filled out and ready to go.

The drive didn’t last long, however, as Dirk’s vision suddenly started going a little blurry. A miniscule fact, yet it didn’t go unnoticed by Jason. Keeping true to his promise, he stopped the old grouch despite his weak protests and the truck came to a stop once more, a few kilometers before the rendezvous point.

- What’s the matter, old man? Your hands are shaky? - Barbara’s voice on the radio came almost instantly, and her bubbly, yet mocking tone seemed almost unaffected by the recent events.

- Yeah. - Dirk answered sarcastically, rubbing his eyelids.

Then there was silence for a few minutes, until Dirk got an alert that somebody opened and closed the truck’s back door. After that, it was a matter of seconds before Barbara materialized in his cab.

- Weren’t you in your own truck? - he asked, his tone almost accusatory.

- Yeah, but I can’t just leave you out to dry, now, can I? Now scoot over and let momma take the wheel.

- No, what I meant was, what about your truck?

- Elephant can take good care of my baby. She already proved herself. This, though. Not everyone can drive this cumbersome beast! - she leaned over Dirk’s shoulder and caressed the driving wheel, before giving it a good smack. - Not through the zigs and zags we’re about to go through, anyway. Now out with you. Take a nap or something.

- Stop. This is a clear breach of contract.

- Nobody’s snitching. I told you already. It’s either this, or we’re late, and you just know which one the corpo-rats will prefer if asked, don’t you? Besides, you’re not exactly popular at the moment, you know? The least you could do would be to accept my kindness here. Alright? Alright. - she stated, then tried to shove her way onto the seat, but only partially succeeded, leaving both herself and Dirk in the awkward position where each of them was only half-sitting on the same seat.

- Are you done? - Dirk grumbled. - If so, go back to your truck. I bet there are a lot of repairs to be done on your mech. The last time I saw it, half of it was fried, so you should monitor it really closely.

- “Fried” is a strong word. It got battle-hardened. That, plus I can’t really do any maintenance in this snowstorm. We have to get to that goddamn settlement, or camp, or whatever else you called it, first.

- It doesn–

- And we need to have a talk. - she dropped the bomb. - A strategy meeting, if you will.

- With whom? You and Argonaut? - Dirk snapped back, simultaneously refusing to move from his seat. - I don’t think anyone else would indulge my “strategies” at this point.

- We won’t have to bother anyone else for this one.

The old man could have sworn there was palpable melancholy in her words. But he must have misinterpreted something. Such behavior was unbecoming of Barbara.

- If you want that meeting, then I have a proposition. Let's get it over with now, so we won’t have to stop needlessly before reaching the outpost. - without waiting for her response, Dirk got off the chair, conceding the driver spot

- Are you sure? Won’t that-

- You already interrupted me, vying for the wheel. So what's a few more minutes of delay?

- Well, okay.

With the duo reaching some common ground, Dirk pressed the button to remotely open the back ramp, rousing some displeased scanding from the back of the truck. He let them go, he had enough headaches for one day.

- Argonaut, to me. - Chernobog commanded before leaving the cab.

As he passed the sleeping quarters and made his way through the cargo hold, he felt a multitude of eyes judging his every step. But none of them called him out for letting the cold in, they had much harsher grievances towards him and have already voiced them a-plenty. But one thing seemed odd to Dirk, that with all this hostility around him, Jason acted uncharacteristically passive.

Despite them being on stage, his friend decided to forgo the behavior that characterized him in the eyes of other mercs thus far. The old man found it somewhat disheartening. After all, he did tell him that their cover might become compromised at this rate, yet the young man didn't seem very keen on reinforcing it at the moment. Maybe he needed to tell it to him more directly next time they were alone in the driver's cab.

Once they made their way outside, the freezing air and rushing snow began assaulting Dirk’s face. If he didn’t have as much hair on himself as he did, it might have been painful to bear the brunt of the snowstorm. But in his current state it was manageable. As they made their way through the snow, the old man counted exactly eighty steps, an average amount of distance he would have to put between the truck and himself to avoid others mercs eavesdropping on their strategic meeting.

With that done, he turned around and looked towards Barbara, who uncharacteristically lagged behind. That behavior only strengthened the feeling he had concerning the woman's reluctance towards this whole rendezvous. Which could only mean one thing, she had something to discuss that neither of them would enjoy. Unless…

“Did she find out who I am?” - Dirk thought, blood in his veins suddenly becoming colder than the air around him.

The young mechanized suit owner was very attentive from the moment they met. She spent more time around him and Jason than any other member of the Scout Squad, which meant she had much more time to collate answers for many idiosyncrasies in their behaviors. He made sure to pay extra special attention to how they conducted themselves around her, but she only ever acted a fool in response.

There was no way that someone learned enough to make their own walking machine from scrap would be as oblivious and boorish as she was. He didn’t buy it from the very start.

He gazed at Prusk in grim anticipation, silently judging her attempts at letting words out of her chest. Opening and closing her mouth like a fish removed from its watery habitat.

Just as his patience began to run thin, she finally spoke.

- I… don’t think the others are wrong. - her voice was softer than usual, but still loud enough to pierce through the howling wind. - About your behavior I mean.

- Can you be more specific? - the old man frowned.

Was there something else the other mercs were discussing while he was unconscious? Something that Micheal omitted, willingly or otherwise?

- About you fucking up big time, old man. - she specified as requested. - I snitched on you because I thought it was out of line to just shoot Match over him, acting within the rules you set upon us.

- Is that–

- Let me finish. - Barbara cut him off.

That action took Dirk aback, ever so slightly. Even if he began to grow somewhat accustomed to the lack of respect all the Ouroboros mercenaries showed him, being interrupted in such a simple way by someone usually as bombastic and energetic as Barbara felt out of place.

- I can tell you have much more experience than any of us. I’m pretty sure we all can. Even Ted, despite his dickish personality and jock-like mentality. - she lifted one of her arms and awkwardly rubbed the nape of her neck. - You know more, you experienced more, you lived through more than any of us ever will in this day and age. I get it, I respect it, old man. But are you yourself aware of it?

The old soldier scoffed.

- I’m genuinely asking, Chernobog. - she didn't get discouraged by his disrespect and kept pressing on. - I may be sounding like a broken record here, since you have heard your share of complaints already, but when you look at us, do you see us for what we all are? Or what we can be in your eyes?

What Barbara was saying felt painfully out of character in Dirk’s opinion, but at the very least it proved that she didn’t know anything about him and Jason. Which lifted a huge weight off his chest… or rather it would have if he could in any way confirm how much she knew.

Only being able to work off what she told him gave him some peace of mind in this instance, but he couldn’t be too sure that she wasn’t lying.

Life would be much easier if he had more people keeping tabs on other mercs. He couldn’t help himself but envy Marcus and his mini-machine hive.

- What’s the difference? - Dirk interjected. - You people choose out of your own free will to kill and die for money, just like soldiers do. What you all think you are is insignificant. My job as the commanding officer is to forge you into a competent military unit. But it would appear none of you cherish your lives enough to follow simple orders.

“Especially that trio”. - Dirk felt tempted to point that out, but he decided against it. He felt like he said enough.

- Old man, why are you acting so stubborn? - Barbara looked him straight in the eyes. He couldn’t say with confidence if he saw pity or sadness in her stare. - What makes you so afraid to open up towards new things?

- Afraid? - he might have sounded more condescending than he intended. - I don’t know what you see within me, but you’re a terrible judge of character, kid. I simply do what I know is right and disregard the opinions of any up-starts that never–

He stopped mid-sentence. Realizing what he was about to say. How moronic it was of him to get even slightly heated up in such a pointless discussion.

Maybe he should have stayed in Armistice’s clinic, the wounds he sustained seemed to be taking their toll on his mental faculties. Nothing more than that

The old soldier passed a glance at Jason, who remained still as a statue. With the gilded helmet on he couldn’t fathom a guess what he was thinking, it would be more reassuring to hear words of someone who agreed with him for a change.

- You reached some misguided conclusions when it comes to what I think. - Dirk coldly stated, not wanting to entertain this conversation any longer. - Will that be all, or you have something more to add?

Barbara fell silent for a moment. Visibly downcast by his response.

- No, I don’t think so. - she sounded quite defeated. - Just think about what I said, okay? I’m not trying to lecture you here, old man, I’m just trying to help you see things you might not notice from where you stand.

- Duly noted.

There was nothing else left for them to talk about. The woman must have felt that as she relented and turned around towards the truck.

- But don’t think I forgot about your driving snag. - she warned him while walking away. - We both want to avoid another argument with the guys, so the moment you start feeling woozy behind the wheel, give me a holler, ye?

- I’ll think about it.

Chernobog watched her silhouette slowly disappear into the snowstorm. Another person he thought of as a potential asset, becoming a nuisance.

- Can you go escort her to the truck? - Dirk asked the only person left. - I need a moment.

- I–

Suddenly, a new silhouette appeared, approaching them from the direction of their Taurus. It made them both pause. Did Barbara forget something?

Maybe Michael on his way to give him another weak-hearted sermon.

There was one more person he thought about, buried deep in the recesses of his mind.

Ted. On his way to settle the score. After all, there would be no real witnesses to give account of what happened in the snowstorm, and Dirk was still worse for wear.

After a minute, the mysterious person turned out to be neither. It was someone he already spoke with today, for better or worse.

- What do you want Spoon?

- Your undivided attention for a moment. - the man in a thick bomb-suit declared, his voice muffled.

He carried no weapon on himself. Which corroborated the genuine nature of his statement and his naïveté to a degree.

- Let’s hear it then, but be quick about it, I’m freezing.