SWIM INSIDE THE SOLAR SEAS [open]

[kamikaze]

▶ WHO: Nux + OTA, will match style
▶ DATE: directly after getting rewards
▶ WARNINGS: probably none
▶ SUMMARY: Nux got a flamethrower. He's using it immediately.

a) "BURN SOME OF THOSE FUCKERS"

There's a god. There's some kind of god, must be, since they left him a gift. It's as dangerous as it looks when he lifts it, stands on top of a lone vehicle not far outside the compound and sets fire to a small approaching horde. Those aren't real people. Not real heroes, not ones he could talk to and learn from. Target practice. Ain't got feelings so Nux doesn't hold back as he blasts small infernos their way. Makes him think of Coma-Doof but this fire-gun is even bigger, even stronger! It's a rush he hasn't experienced since his first few days in this mysterious land.

No more Immortan to die for and grovel under but Nux knows nothing but the cult he was raised by. So he screams a chant, one he'd heard plenty of times on the Fury Road as the Wagon led the charge:

"Roasting flame, scorch the earth, sky and wind alike! Immolate! Immolate!"

Whoever might approach this loud, somewhat blinding scene best do so cautiously - no telling what a War Boy pumped full of adrenaline and handling a deadly weapon might do on reflex.

b) PREFERRING THE LESSER PSYCHO

At some point there's no more fuel left. Atop a bed he sits and it's the most comfortable bed he's ever known. Soft and warm and safe. This is the one he was shown by Silent Bullet Man and he's curled around the flamethrower like a snake with limbs as he counts his scrap. A raided television set rests up by the pillow and he's sorting the parts pulled out of it for the tenth time over, piling like pieces together and making a note of how many he has. He'll forget soon enough, so he has to do this often.

Periodically Nux coughs, ugly croaking noises that wrack his chest. Then he'll scratch the lumps on his neck. It's their fault. Always Larry and Barry's fault, making him sound sickly. They're even chewier when he's been active like today, but it's fine since he's calm now. Calm and sitting and counting. Nothing he can't deal with, even if his hacking's loud enough to bark out through the open door and into the hallways. If not that, the acrid smell of burnt metal’s strong enough to fill the air just the same.

Comments

a. :>

[byheart]

It's the commotion that draws the boy, the plumes of smoke, the dry voices raised in hunger, but the meat they want is standing where they can't reach. He watches from the wall for a while. Curiosity draws him closer—curiosity and the riddle of the fire. It's quiet in a way it shouldn't be. How is he doing it? What's that in his hands?

Roasting flame, scorch the earth, sky and wind alike!

All things considered, this fellow seems like he's having a good time. Maybe he'll wait to ask. Maybe the chant could use another verse in the meantime!

"Burning blaze, blackened bones... sizzling, sloughing, scent of smoke to fill the space inside, belonging's burrow empty. So he digs deeper."

Er... it was a fair start, anyway. At least he didn't shout the entire thing. Also, he is now sitting inside the car, where a passenger is meant to be. No footsteps, no door slamming, he's just there, incongruously large hat and all.

[kamikaze]

In a rush of newfound pyromania and his own excitement he doesn't notice the stranger until they appear in the car and there's a shift of weight under him; feels like someone's jumped in. A finger twists the flamethrower off and Nux drops to his knees, weapon in one hand as he peers upside-down through the windshield.

The target-practices are busy burning and melting into ash. Nux is more fixated on the intruder. Pays no mind as he plasters a clammy hand on the glass, then knocks.

"--ey, who's that?" Unless they were hiding in the backseat, Nux is sure this person(?) wasn't there when he drove his way out.

[byheart]

The might-be-a-person who almost certainly didn't stow away in the back appears to be a young man, quite lean and pale, with wide, honest eyes. He tilts his head, and his shoulders too, and it's not nearly upside-down like the scarred face past the glass, but... close enough. Surely he'll appreciate the gesture.

"It's me. Cole." The obvious answer, without a trace of condescension. "I came to hear your fire, but it wasn't singing. Where does it come from?"

[kamikaze]

Cole? He's thinking: Coal.

Nux rises, tromps down the hood and hops off. Isn't bothered by the groaning remains of what he just torched as he makes his way around to the driver's side. Opens the door and slides in flamethrower-first, shoving the bulky weapon into the space between both seats. Then one hand's grabbing the wheel and the other, planting itself on one fuel tank. He feels no fear and only a little bit of nerves: most of the strangers up here just have interesting things to say. Aren't danger.

"It comes from this! Blaster!" Fingers drum against the tank and make a tinny noise. Not an M2, that's for sure! -- so what kind of spectacular weapon is this? "-- Gift from the gods." That's the only explanation. He's starting to smile, knowingly.

[byheart]

Where Coal is from, god and demon and spirit are names for beings of a similar nature, at times used interchangeably, and so the proclamation throws a spark, lights him up. It's not a smile—he smiles very rarely—but an earnest expression nonetheless. Maybe he looks worried. He often looks that way. (He's not leaning anymore, either, just for the record. And the hat is kind of... everywhere.)

His hand moves: a false start, like he's just thought better of touching the thing. The ones who reward with ways to kill are not often named spirits, and gods even less often. "Why?"

What if he looks inside the war boy's head—will he see the reason? Was it an exchange, a bargain born of pain?

[kamikaze]

Why? Good question. One Nux doesn't know. Snorts in response to such a question not out of mockery so much as something childish and self-congratulating. "-- 'cause I did something that pleased!" Nux's voice is bright and proud of himself in a way that isn't arrogant. Each day, he doubts himself. But then a miracle like this occurs. Something inexplicable! Something that shines and restores all his lost faith. He glances at the flamethrower crooked next to him, splaying fond fingers over what counts for its belly, like it's a pet.

Then he shifts attention just as fast and reaches up to touch the brim of the hat. Grabs it and rubs the material between his fingers without asking because that's just what you did at the Citadel and it was never any different. He focuses on the fabric as long as he's allowed.

"I like your hat." One quick nod. Affirmation. It's a good hat.

[byheart]

"Oh..." That's a relief. Sort of. The answer—the vague wisps of memory, the story Nux tells without knowing—won't mollify that nervous pulling inside him, the feeling he can't name, but at least there's no demon involved. It's a good day when his daggers can stay sleeping.

Then a hand reaches toward him, and his eyes track it, wide and pale behind the shaggy blond fringe. He remains very still, as if a butterfly's just landed on him, or maybe a wasp, he's not sure which. Nux will find the fabric is soft, the brim itself stiff but pliable, prevented from flopping into Cole's line of sight by a leather strap. An armoured cap holds it tight to his head. He's worn this hat through wind and rain and snow and sand; it's weathered, but well cared for too, filthy and polished, scuffed and beloved, in a way Nux might find familiar. Maybe that's why he likes it. (At least someone does.)

"Thank you. Me too." As a hasty afterthought, like he's only just remembered it's polite to repay a compliment: "I-I like your... head."

[kamikaze]

A hand goes up to run across his scalp, shorn with razors and radiation alike. The visage of the Immortan-- that's what he's got. A brand. It's something a little tainted now, because he thinks about all sorts of things he doesn't want to think about when he's alone and remembering the Citadel. To look the part of a War Boy when you aren't really one anymore, that's weird. Nux doesn't know anything else, so there's a sense of pride when the compliment hits: I like your head. Really, does he? Nux grins wide as acceptance of the comment.

Finally he lets go the hat brim after rolling it through his palm, having sufficiently touched it enough for now. Cole or Coal is quiet and seems uncertain. Nux digs his nearest had into the cup holder as he turns in his seat, grabbing keys and jamming them into the ignition. It's great because he didn't even have to hotwire this magnificent beast, this untouched vehicle of a make he wasn't familiar with and could only guess. Mercedes? Anyway, the keys were already there, and he'd been just as fascinated with how clean and straight they were. No sequences required. Generally War Boys were not given such treasures.

It's shifted to drive but kept braked as he presses a boot on the pedal, making the car growl to life. Swings his head toward Cole with more of that manic smirk; that'd help anyone, wouldn't it? "Guts full of guzzo and ready to go for hours!" Hours, at least hours. Nux is enthralled with all these finds he's had today.

[byheart]

Yes, that's it, the ache that whispered, that came to him on the wall like a wisp of smoke on the wind. Oh, those keys are nice, they sound cheerful! Anyway, the need for belonging can be a challenge, but—

Noise, a kind of growl he's never before heard, suddenly resonating all around them. Nux's voice drags his shocked attention off the window—it sounded so close, impossibly close, it's got to be right on top of them, or it's some new magic he can't hear, or—the other guy is smiling? He's smiling and talking like it's nothing, like it's something good. He's seen that very smirk on warriors before the charge—sometimes before they died.

Guts full of... what? Are they inside the beast? It bellows again, sounding hungry this time, and in purest astonishment Cole cries,

"Your house is alive!"

[kamikaze]

Not a house but Nux doesn't care enough to correct, his nerves vibrating just like the seat he sits on, the car they're in as he revs it hard, makes it rumble. It's a fine beast for how sleek and pristine it is, this engine, and Nux knows he can push it to its limit. White-knuckled hands grip at the wheel and squeeze all the more in response to Cole's shout, mistaking any sort of fear for excitement. How could you not be?

"Alive!" He agrees, yanking it into drive and accelerating rapidly, no warning, no need-- they start flying in seconds. Nothing in the way and miles of plateau. It's like home, but colder and darker. More seconds and Nux is testing the speedometer, the red needle at the very edge of its allowed gauge. That's a limit that doesn't last long around War Boys.

"-- And so smooth!" Shouting over the roar of one-sixty-miles-per-hour.

[byheart]

Cole gasps urgently as his back bumps the seat, and for a time he's pressed there, frozen in uncomprehending silence. Yes. Smooth. Absolutely, that is the word he'd have chosen. Also: aaaaaaa

But then, Nux's enthusiasm does its part to help. It plants a foot down on the edge of his surprise, keeps it from falling too far into fear, allows dread to ease into wonder. He sees the war boy's hands move the wheel, or push or pull the stick between the seats, his feet pumping down below: it's a machine. It's got wheels and levers and things, like the trebuchets—but alive?

Like Bianca! That's reassuring, sort of. "Ohhh! This isn't your house... it's your friend!"

Still his fingers crush at the edges of his seat, as if he might somehow become dislodged and be flung out into the dirt. Ground racing past, wind all around them, dust and plant matter and flying insects briefly ablaze in the headlights. Inevitably, the spots on the windshield command his attention.

"They can't get out of the way." RIP bugs.

A AS IN ABSOLUTELY NOT

[untodawn]

Knowing that without rhyme or reason to the who or what arrived suddenly in the compound, John accepted the unpredictability of his new surroundings. The almost complacent acceptance of its inherent chaos mutated into something of a daily ritual. To go around and see to it that nothing or no one was coming in posing a threat to either the people already here or themselves. Once he dialed down his wariness, John saw most if not all them were a little eccentric and afraid of their own shadow but otherwise harmless.

Then some idiot with a flamethrower got into the motor pool.

There was no time wasted when John took pulled himself over the high concrete wall that separated the motor pool from the yard. Weapons tight with the butt of his MA5D pressed into his shoulder, John was prepared to fire when he came up behind Nux going off on top of the car.

Only when John closed the gap he put one leg forward and threw all his massive weight into one solid kick into the side of the vehicle Nux was standing on top of. At a dead run, a SPARTAN could clock in at 60kmph so what Nux was going to experience was the equivalent of a parked vehicle being T-boned by another, much larger car. A truck, if you will.

[kamikaze]

Way he's shouting to himself and the sizzle of walking corpses burning and the flamethrower that's the cause of it all, Nux doesn't hear it coming. It's only when the vehicle jolts and he stumbles, slams down hard on his knees as the car is shifted that he whips - or hurls his fallen body around to try to see what it is.

It is a fully-armored thing in the shape of a man adorned by compacted car parts. Hardly used to seeing heavy-duty protection in the wastes, Nux's eyes light up in awe so obvious it's almost painful to look at. Lasts only a second though, because he switches to war-mode and-- this is an enemy! Right? It struck his car and by extension, himself! Must be some kind of test of his skills!

Still lying pushed up on his elbows, he steadies the weapon somewhat - aims it at John - and hits the trigger, spraying fire at him.

[untodawn]

Raised outside of the normal social structure, John found is easiest to categorize his relationships in three ways. Obedience to superiors, accountability and dependability to those who served under or beside him, and the swift elimination of immediate threats. Anyone else he stiffly ignored or did his level best to skirt around.

No one ever tried to set him on fire before, and even though Nux hunkered himself down comfortably in the third category this was certainly a new one.

Only problem was that here John was reticent to kill. While he was naive to life outside the UNSC he knew enough to do the messy guess work how his actions would be received as nascent martial law if he started killing their own. And, yes, this pale idiot technically fell under the broad umbrella of 'their own'.

So, in a show of clemency, John present the boy pelting him with fire with two options. One: Continue spraying him with fire until John either marched close enough that the back draft would engulf him too or John snatched the weapon out of his end to make short work of both him and it. Two: Stop.

As John took two steps closer, clearly undaunted or even bothered by the blaze, offered Nux a hint to expedite the decision making process.

"No."

[kamikaze]

Fire destroys everything. Everything. Or it should, but the car-man remains standing, even walking his-- her?-- way through the licking blast, and the second John steps close enough that the heat's pressed with him Nux releases the trigger. Flails, too, scrabbling backward and away and nearly launches himself right off the top of the vehicle, hand thrusting down onto air and throwing him off balance even more. This stranger is formidable. Quite intimidating. Impervious to flame!

He shouts: "-- Get back!"

Not a leg to stand on but Nux swings himself legs-first off the hood and crouches around the other side of the car, like huddling behind it will help. Clutches that flamethrower to his chest like it's a lifeline as he squeezes himself into the backseat door, frantically wondering how he's going to kill this-- enemy.

Since everyone else is doing A... I'll take B! Hopefully the backdating is alright with you!

[glacius]

[Glacius has mostly been hanging around the compound, trying to find a proper place to call his own. At first he'd done his best to push out from the place where he arrived in an attempt to try and figure out where he'd been strangely relocated to, but the further away he left, the more danger he discovered. Small packs of the shambling, rotting humanoids were no match for the alien's fighting prowess and powers, but even he had no interest in warring with the massive hordes of them that seemed to taint the land. With each venture out he'd returned feeling aimless and frustrated until he finally realized that he'd need to collect intelligence and formulate a plan if he was to have any hope of ever making it out. A proper place to rest and ogranize everything he'd found would be important to these efforts, and from what he'd seen the compound provided the most security in that regard. So it had become his usual haunt, even if the rooms were odd at the best of times and downright unsettling at the worst.

Today was panning out to be the former as he wandered down the halls mulling over the contents of a mysterious gift that he'd received as if out of thin air and had subsequently left in his room. The smell of burnt metal reaches his nostrils, causing the alien's head to cock up in alarm. If something was burnt that suggested fire, which was always enough to put him on edge. The sound of coughing reached his ears next and the alien followed both sensory inputs to their source. Far be it from him to just barge in on someone's space, the alien instead raps loudly on the open door with his icy white knuckles. Strange, he doesn't hear any crackling, hissing embers or detect smoke... better to be safe than sorry, though.]

Hello? Is everything alright in there? I detect something... burning.

rebel yell

[kamikaze]

[One, two, three-- he can count easier than he can write or read and something about organizing these pieces is meditative. Least til that zen mode is broken with a glisten that drags his eye to the doorframe.]

Glacius-- !

[Course he remembers his name, that name so grand and important-sounding like he really was divine. Just a thing from the stars, though, so he said. Nux perks up. Drops the small gears he's clutched between dirty fingers and his flamethrower gets shifted too, sitting almost comically with his wide smile.

He taps the barrel of it, makes a tinny noise.]

I set fire to the wretched! [Nobody's called them zombies yet, so that's what they are to him.]

yess ;w;

[glacius]

[Glacius' head rears up when he sees the fire-spewing weapon. Well... at least Nux was only using it on those shambling monstrosities, and doesn't seem to have any plans to use it on him. Still, the alien remains rooted his spot, eyes wary.] Where did... you get that?

[kamikaze]

It was a gift... from the gods.

[Has to be. No other explanation. Questioned faith only goes so far with a War Boy who knows nothing else; he squeezes the weapon tighter to his bare upper body. Curls his legs just a bit more snug. He loves his reward.]

[glacius]

[Glacius tilts his head, considering this.] So you mean you're not entirely sure. It just showed up in front of you, one day..? [If his questions seem a little leading, it's because something similar had happened to him. He didn't really understand where it came from or why what he received appeared in front of him in particular... but then again, there's a lot about this place he doesn't understand.]

[kamikaze]

[A month ago he'd have been offended by the implication. So you mean you're not sure. Naive, scatterbrained and sheltered to the world but not completely dumb. It strikes him for a moment.

Then he rolls it off his back: yeah, sure.]

That's right. [Nux nods.]

[glacius]

[Glacius pauses for a good moment, digesting this and mulling his response over. Then he decides to just come out with it; it's not like what he received was terribly important to him.] I received something in a similar fashion as well. I have no idea why it was given to me; I have no use for it.

[kamikaze]

[Now, deathly curious and leaning in 'cause he wants whatever it is:]

What'd you get?

[glacius]

[The otherworldly being continues to scrutinize the War Boy for a moment, trying to decided whether to hold on to his secret or try to get some other information on it. In the end he opts for the latter; he doesn't feel particularly invested in what appeared before him, so he doesn't care if others know about it as much.

He gestures for Nux to follow, promptly turning around and beginning to stalk out of the room.]

[kamikaze]

[Glacius is something inhuman-- and the shiniest, glitteriest-- but Nux can understand his gesture. Nux swings legs-first off the bed. Still holding the flamethrower, doesn't want to let go, he simply lugs it along with them as he comes and follows behind.]