- Would you look at that. Civilization! - Barbara’s voice rang in Dirk’s ears as he opened one eye to look through the windshield, and sure enough, the never ending white expanse finally gave way to the dark gray grime of… well, something. Whatever the blotch in the distance was, Dirk’s first thought was that it was foolish of the woman to assume that they had reached their stop, but he saved the comment to himself, feeling a little drowsy and out of his element. - Did you sleep well? - she added with a smirk, but kept her gaze trained on the target.

- I wasn’t sleeping. - he denied with a confidence of a seasoned liar. - I was resting my eyes to spare myself the snowblindness.

- Sure, and your snores were actually insightful pointers for me in Morse code, yeah?

- I don’t snore.

- You so do! Like this: Hrrr haaa… Hrrr haaa… - she mocked him a little too eagerly, but her tone was had a coat of sincerity that almost made it hard to get angry about it. - But I’m glad that I could make myself useful. I hope you had a good rest.

- What are you grinning about? - Dirk couldn’t hold in the words, discreetly rubbing one eye.

- Oh, nothing. I never really had grandparents, so I thought just now that taking care of the elderly feels pretty nice.

- I could be your father at most, and that's stretching it. - he grumbled, crooking his head to peek at Jason, who was watching from behind, still as a statue. But Dirk could feel the shift in his aura. He was holding in a chuckle. Dirk sighed.

- Maybe if you had me in your forties, old stuff. Besides, it takes two to tango. Do you even have anybody at home to get that baby-making going?

- Are you probing me? Drop it.

- Touchy subject, huh? Fine, have it your way, but just so you know, I had some premium advice for pulling ladies.

- What’s the point of asking a fish for fishing advice? I’ll pass. The one thing I want to know from you is our ETA on the settlement.

- Twenty minutes tops, pops. - she cocked an eyebrow, satisfied with the little rhyme, but rolled her eyes quickly when she caught a glance of Dirk’s stony face. - It’s smooth sailing now. You slept through most of the hardcore off-road driving. Zigs and zags, ups and downs. Wasn’t easy, but I think me and Effluvium are getting to like each other. Oh, we also took point again, since the terrain is stable again. East wind and Elephant are just behind us.

- I already told you. I wasn’t sleeping.

Despite the initial agreement where Barbara was supposed to merely be the backup driver for whenever Dirk couldn’t keep going behind the wheel, she quickly monopolized the driver’s position, plowing through the snow with all the motivation she could muster and then some. Dirk couldn’t unlatch her from the steering wheel even once after their first swap, and so she drove through the whole night without as much as a yawn to show her fatigue. Dirk wanted to click his tongue as something ugly welled up inside him, which he couldn’t exactly put his finger on.

- Right, right… So anyways, what’s the battle plan?

- We go in, pick up our supplies from Ouroboros, buy anything useful the Russians can spare and continue on our way. I don’t think it was necessary for me to explain it.

- God, I hope they have a shower. Or at least something that resembles one. I reek.

- You do.

- Wow, old man.

- I do, too. It’s the reality of human conflict. No time, no resources, no facilities. It’s a wonder nobody’s gotten an infection yet. Armistice must have fed us some kind of Ouroboros immunity enhancers.

- And you of all people didn’t make a fuss about it?

- He’s a cocky bastard, but it’s plain to see that he knows what he’s doing, at least regarding all the drugs.

- Ahh… Stinky and drugged up on god knows what. I like our odds in town. You think we’ll blend right in?

- Just keep your mouth shut. These aren’t the kind of people you charm with jokes.

- You underestimate my skills, old-timer. - she smirked, sitting up straighter as they rolled closer. I can get along with people. Most have a soft spot for a spunky gal. You being the sole exception.

- Spunky gets you shot in the wastelands. And you’re not getting along with anyone. People just give up any resistance with you around, since you never seem to stop talking.

Barbara let out a theatrical gasp.

- Well, excuse me, Mr. Sunshine. Maybe if you smiled once in a while, we wouldn’t need a charm offensive.

- The last time I smiled, the guy across from me thought I was baring my teeth. Didn’t end well.

- Okay, noted.

As the truck rumbled closer, the details of the settlement sharpened into view. It was a patchwork of leaning buildings cobbled together from scavenged steel, broken concrete, and corrugated tin all thrown together on old remnants of what once could have been a small town. Barbed wire crowned the outer walls, but several gaps in the fencing betrayed its patchwork nature. Watchtowers stood unevenly at the perimeter, the guards atop them bundled in mismatched coats and clutching rifles that seemed as cobbled together as the settlement itself.

Smoke billowed from a few chimneys, swirling gray amidst the falling snow. A group of figures huddled near the gate, their faces obscured by scarves and their postures tense. Even at a distance and through a layer of rust, Dirk could make out the unmistakable glint of firearms.

- Now that’s a cozy looking place. No red carpet for us, though. A shame, considering what we had to go through to get here. - she joked with a crooked smirk, though her eyes betrayed a shadow of exhaustion. Their last fight was a nightmare scenario to start off their journey, and it was hard to keep morale from sinking.

- The only carpets they use are the ones they roll their dead into in lieu of caskets.

- Gnarly.

The truck shuddered to a halt a few feet from the gate, and one of the figures stepped forward, rifle slung across his chest. He raised a hand in a universal gesture to stop, then reached for his belt, where he kept a small radio. Dirk flipped a switch in his own device in the cab, and it automatically found the frequency after a few seconds.

- State your business! - the guard barked in a rough approximation of Imperial language with a thick Russian accent, voice muffled by a fraying scarf, the howl of wind giving the transmission that distinct crackle in the background. He stood a good fifteen meters ahead of the truck, but even then Dirk could see his eyes. They were sharp, but his face was gaunt. Sunken from hunger or sickness, Dirk couldn’t tell which. - You better not bring trouble. - He added after a moment of sizing up their monster of a truck.

- Define trouble. - Barbara shot back before Dirk could react, fiddling with the radio as if she owned the damn thing.

- We’re just passing through. - Dirk corrected strongly in fluent Russian, feeling the guard’s suspicious gaze sweep over him and Barbara. Even despite the distance and the windshield between them, the man pierced them with his gaze, easily following their movements in the cab. He was focused. Detail-oriented. That was the true mark of the people of the wastelands. The eyes of a hunter. - Ouroboros sent word. We’re picking up supplies. We’ll be gone before you know it.

The man jerked his head to the side in a sort of disapproving motion, before giving his colleagues a sign. With a creak, the makeshift barrier groaned open, revealing the settlement in all its grimy glory.

- Impressive. You really put that guy on the spot. What did you say? And where did you learn that?

- Learn what?

- The language. Duh.

- We’re in the heart of Russia. What do you mean “where did I learn?”

- I just… I dunno. I guess it’s not that weird, considering you’re friends with Red. It just felt strange hearing you talk like that. Didn’t take you for a polyglot.

- Appearances deceive.

- Guess they do.

Inside, the streets were little more than mud trails laced with ice, dotted with makeshift stalls where traders peddled worn tools, canned goods, and ammunition. People moved in tight clusters, casting distrustful glances at the newcomers as they whispered among themselves. Children, dressed in dirty, oversized rags, darted between the buildings, their laughter at odds with the oppressive atmosphere. A faint heartbeat of a community clinging to survival. The air reeked of smoke, sweat, and decay, but the place was alive.

Barbara steered the truck through the narrow path, her eyes wide as she took it all in.

- Charming place. I think I was lowballing them, asking for just a shower. You think they have a spa? - Barbara snickered, clearly trying to lift the weird mood the sights put her in.

- If by “spa” you mean a barrel of cold water in an alley, then maybe. - Dirk muttered, ever the serious one, scanning the faces in the crowd. The weight of all the eyes pointed his way made his hand hover over his holster. The gun would do little for him in the cab, yet the instinct was simply too strong to resist.

- You’re really selling the place, Chernobog. Now I know for sure you’re fun on road trips.

- These people don’t trust outsiders, and they won’t hesitate to make an example of us if we step out of line. And I doubt Ouroboros would care about us.

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- Relax. The worst I had planned was just some window shopping. Not many windows in those stalls, though.

- Not one word out of line from you. Do you understand?

- Or what? You’ll crack a smile to intimidate me?

- Don’t test me.

She kept trying to make light of the situation, while Dirk did his damndest to keep the conversation grounded. Like a tug-o-war, they wrangled the conversation in opposite directions, both oblivious to just how much stress was slipping through their masks.

Barbara soon found a small clearing where she could park and with a last hiss of the exhaust, the engine of the mighty Effluvium went silent, leaving only awkward dead air in the cab.

- Do you want me to relay something? To the team, I mean. I haven’t yet fallen out of graces, unlike a certain someone.

- I told you what to do. Who you share that info with is none of my concerns. - he grumbled in his typical grumpy fashion. - Keep your head low and don’t give the locals any reasons to hate us. Also, don’t stray too far. They seem hard-pressed for supplies, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they tried to repossess some of ours.

- Wouldn’t they have taken them already if that was the case?

- The cache is a sturdy thing with an electronic lock, opened only with the right password, which they don’t have. Now go. I’ve had enough of you for now.

- Geez. No need to be so prickly. And here I pulled an all-nighter to let you nap in peace.

- For the last time, I wasn’t napping.

- Take care!

And with that, she left all too quickly, having sowed the seeds of annoyance in Dirk. When the faint sounds of her footsteps were but a distant patter, Dirk finally let out the words he’d been holding in for a while now.

- What are you grinning to yourself about?

- I’m not grinning. - Jason replied quietly, approaching Dirk and leaning against his headrest, while the old man leaned forward, covering his eyes with one hand as he rubbed them gently. - Besides, how would you even know. You can’t even see my face.

- I could feel that stupid smile on my back the whole trip since yesterday.

- What can I say. I’m happy to finally see you well-rested.

- I wasn’t… - he took a deep breath. - Nevermind that. Was anybody spying on us?

- Not as far as I could tell. Nobody even approached the cab.

- So they can keep out of my business after all. Would you look at that? Perfect. - Dirk muttered, then changed the subject. - We’ll be going out for a stroll in a bit, so get ready and keep your eyes sharp. The locals here... they are on edge, and not just because of our arrival. I think they can tell us something about the thing that attacked us if we approach them the right way.

- Do you really think they know anything about it?

- It’s worth a shot.

Jason stayed silent, his gaze shifting towards the driver’s seat, where Barbara was sitting not long ago. The weight of her usual overbearing bravado and friendliness hung in the air, leaving a strange void behind.

- She’s not wrong, though. - Jason spoke after a pause.

- About what?

- You’re too prickly. Makes people defensive.

Dirk turned his head, narrowing his eyes at Jason.

- And what would you suggest? A nice smile and a warm handshake?

Jason shrugged, unbothered by Dirk’s glare.

- Wouldn’t kill you to try.

- Wouldn’t save me, either. - Dirk reached for the radio and adjusted the frequency back to their team radio. - People here aren’t defensive because of me, Chrysos. They’re scared of something. Something they know very well.

- We both know I wasn’t talking about the locals.

- Spare me the rest. My only mistake was trying to play nanny to a bunch of misfits. - he huffed. - We’re on our own, Jason. We need to survive here now. We move units, and we forget about these people. But to do that, we need to be prepared for the storm to come. And there will be a storm. I saw that thing. Just a glimpse, but it was enough. Now, let’s move. We’re wasting daylight… - He stopped for a second, then added - We can look for those showers, too, while we’re at it.

That last bit seemed to take some tension away from Jason. Barbara would surely appreciate it.

Not long after, they touched down on the grimy snow outside, the biting cold air now mixing with the occasional gust of prickling black smoke which scratched the throat and irritated the eyes.

Another source of irritation was the familiar group of three young mercs with Ted at the front, already causing a ruckus with the group from the other truck.

- What took you so fucking long anyway? Did you have fun watching from a distance as we were getting torn to shreds, huh? - the young buck stared somebody down, but his frame completely obstructed who it was.

- Charting a path in the middle of the night during a snowstorm is no easy task. I say my tempo was exceptional. - A voice answered dryly. Just those few words confirmed for Dirk to know who it was.

- Exceptionally slow. How about I bring you on an exceptionally fast trip to the ground, huh.

- Fuck’s sake, Ted. Can you stop already? This is just stupid. Let’s just go. We have the dibs on whatever the Ruskies have in store, remember? - Spoon cut in, weirdly upfront with Ted.

- Don’t tell me you’re taking this guy’s side? How hard can it be to drive around a big hole in the ground, huh?

- I said give it a rest. I need a full restock and Match is running low too. If we don’t get what we need, you’re gonna be shooting solo the next time this big fucker rears its ugly head.

- Fuck. - he barked, turning around on his heel. - This ain’t over yet. - he shot to East Wind, before storming off.

At this rate, Ted would no doubt start something with the Russian, and Dirk half-wanted it to actually happen. But the last thing he needed was to be lynched by association. As the Three Stooges waddled through the mucky snow, Dirk gave Jason a simple whistle and a gesture pointed towards the trio. Didn’t take a genius to get what that meant, and so young Chrysos gave chase, if a brisk walk in their general direction could even be called that, leaving Dirk to his own devices.

- Fool. - East Wind commented briefly, before turning towards Dirk with an inquisitive look that peeked out from underneath a thick fur hood that, in tandem with a scarf, obstructed most of their face. They wore a warm coat and had a bow and a quiver slinked over their torso.

Dirk never really got a good look at them before their unit split and departed, but now upon closer inspection, this was the same person who was eyeing him in the canteen, back at the abandoned quarry. He pushed those thoughts aside.

He almost wanted to apologize for the misbehavior of his unit, but it was no longer his problem, so he opted to just move on with his business, but was stopped promptly.

- Chernobog, I assume? - East Wind spoke up, stopping Dirk in his tracks. - Aren’t you going to discipline your subordinate?

- I’m not his boss anymore. Changes in the power structure.

- Acknowledged. Who is the commanding officer in that case?

- To be determined.

- In that case, I shall take it upon myself to properly discipline them myself later. - They stated matter-of-factly, giving a slight nod, but before they could leave, another person inserted themself into the conversation.

- “Discipline?” Oh, dear East Wind, let us not be so hasty! - Said a tall figure exiting the other truck. He was a man around thirty, dressed in a black cassock, a pair of practical leather boots and a long, tightly wrapped, itchy-looking gray scarf. A long string full of maroon beads hung by his side, ending with a simple wooden cross. It was a rosary. This must have been Vincenzo, one of the many anomalies within the Scout Squad - Here in this biting cold, among adversity, we can all lose our way. Guidance is what we should seek to depart on our brethren, and let the Lord do the judgment in due time. It is only just.

- That book of yours says so? - Dirk interjected with skepticism.

- Perhaps you would care to find out yourself later on?

- Hard pass. Not much of a reader.

- Thank you for your input, Father. - East Wind addressed the man with respect, but the word “father” did not carry the distinct reverence of a believer. - I will consider your words, but certain behaviors simply must be corrected. I fail to see how god could solve the issues of insubordination.

- Ah, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, no? Perhaps this ruckus was a test of patience, meant to strengthen your souls! Or perhaps Ted is just a bit of a hothead.

- Hothead is an understatement - Dirk muttered, crossing his arms.

- See? Even Chernobog agrees! - Vincenzo said with a laugh, laying his hand on Dirk’s arm, much to the man’s visible irritation. - But let us not burden ourselves with wrath. I say we forgive Ted for his youthful zeal and pray he doesn’t get himself punched in the face before sundown.

- And this approach has worked for you in the past? - Dirk countered with a question.

- Oh, absolutely not. - Vincenzo with a subdued smile. - But one must try, no? After all, turning the other cheek is a practice, not a guarantee.

- Before you go on a tangent, let me be blunt with you. I don’t see the purpose of a priest in a military convoy. - Dirk gently, but decisively, shoved the man’s hand away, taking a step back to get a fuller look at him.

- That is very blunt indeed. No offense taken. But let me ask you this: Have the convoys of old not had one such as me to tend to their members’ spiritual needs? In such harsh conditions, it is rarely people who seek God. It is our Father who finds them, and perhaps I’m here for that moment.

- Has that happened already?

- No. - He answered immediately, but without a shred of hesitation or shame.

- Then I don’t see it happening ever, if even the latest events failed to convert any weak-willed fools. - Dirk spoke with no filter on, as was often the case, but Vincenzo didn’t seem fazed in the least.

- Even so, I have found myself in this place not without a reason, and it is as plain as it can be. - He said, looking over the little town risen from ruins.

- What will you do? Give a sermon to those people? - Dirk asked, seeing an unmistakable glint in the priest’s eye.

- If enough people need it.

- You do you. - Dirk dismissed him, not really caring anymore about the unit’s inner workings. Again, not his responsibility.

- If you ever need my services, or simply want to talk, find me anytime. Now, if you excuse me… - He gave a proper bow and took his leave.

- Unlikely. - Dirk sighed, just now noticing that East Wind had snuck away already, nowhere to be seen. He’d have to keep a better eye on them next time.