Tyler takes his hand off his revolver slowly and raises his arms, motioning for the others to do the same. Viv's men take their weapons, knowing full well what they can do with them. As they're disarmed, Tyler looks at Viv and says,<span style="color: #336666">“I don't remember giving you that name.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“You didn't have to. It's a common enough name on its own, but paired with a name like Deckard? Throw in some fancy gunplay and a body count, and suddenly you'd be a fool not to put it all together.”</span>She gestures at<span style="font-style: italic">Virtue</span>.<span style="color: #8080ff">“And then there's that. I've seen one man in my life with a sword like that. I'm not talking some chintzy thing you found in a pawn shop somewhere. That belongs to someone else.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler's eyes narrow.<span style="color: #336666">“Who?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“Damien Wolf.”</span><br/><br/>The name is like a spring-loaded trap. When it leaves her lips, Tyler moves with the speed of a viper, chopping the nearest bandit in the throat and grabbing his sidearm. In the blink of an eye, he's gripped the man by the throat with the crux of his elbow, using his body as a human shield while his own pistol is held to his temple. Guns are instantly trained on Tyler, but as they do so, half are left open to the other gunslinger. Taking his own hostage, Deckard places a knife to the bandit's throat while motioning for Tank and Mariel to grab his guns. In the space of a few heartbeats, the two groups find themselves in a Mexican standoff.<br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“What do you know about Damien Wolf?!”</span>Tyler shouts at Viv. For the first time, his calm and collected demeanor seems a distant memory. It's apparent that whoever Damien Wolf is, there's a significant emotional connection there.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“All right, let's just calm dow--”</span><br/><br/>Before she can finish, Tyler fires a round into his hostage's leg. The man lets out a yelp of pain and crumples, but Tyler wrenches his neck and keeps him aloft.<span style="color: #336666">“If you don't tell me who killed him, so help me God...”</span><br/><br/>The look on her face seems confused.<span style="color: #8080ff">“What? Killed?”</span>Tyler glares at her and tightens his grip, and she holds up her hands in protest.<span style="color: #8080ff">“I don't know! I only met him once – years ago. He killed the people I was with when we were robbing a caravan. He was carrying that sword. When I went looking for him to get revenge, your names came up with his. But I never saw him again. That's all I know, I swear!”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Seems like you have motive...”</span>Tyler snarls, his hostage starting to turn purple in the face.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“Yes, I wanted revenge. But that was years ago! I followed his trail to the Idaho border and then it went cold. By that time, Lester – the bandit leader we just killed – he ordered me to give up the search. And I did! Last I heard, he was somewhere out by New Boise. But now you say he's dead, and I just--”</span>She tightens her jaw and swallows.<span style="color: #8080ff">“Please... Can you just let my people go?”</span><br/><br/>Tyler regards her for a long moment, taking in everything she said and trying to work out the truth of it all. Damien had never been one to suffer bandits, and his personal code was such that he spared women and children. The story makes sense, though it leaves him feeling somewhat empty. His quest for answers had momentarily seemed like it was reaching its conclusion. But now he is back where he started. Slowly, he asks Viv,<span style="color: #336666">“Do you have a medic?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“No...”</span>She replies softly.<br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Molly... See to this man's leg.”</span>He drops his hostage to the ground and releases the hammer on the pistol in his hand. Deckard hesitantly follows Tyler's lead and pulls the knife away from his hostage's neck.<br/><br/>Viv looks at Tyler and breathes a sigh of relief.<span style="color: #8080ff">“Well then... That's enough excitement for one day.”</span><br/><br/>Huffing in amusement, Tyler matches eyes with her and smirks.<span style="color: #336666">“Well, you know my name. So what's yours?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“Vivian. Vivian Rowe.”</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>As the storm batters the land outside, the inside of the cave stays calm, with only a low wail of wind to be heard. The two groups sit in relative silence, neither side fully trusting the other. Deckard in particular seems ready to start fighting at a moment's notice, and a marked look of agitation lingers on his face. On a spit over the fire, a giant cockroach slowly cooks. It's a regular survival food in the wastes, particularly in the stretch of land between Chicago and Idaho. Deckard never much cared for it, equating its taste to old gym socks. He much prefers the taste of lizard or snake from the warmer climates of the South.<br/><br/>Tyler and Viv sit together, knowing that if the leaders of the two groups speak civilly, then the others are more inclined to follow suit. There's a mutual respect between them. For Tyler, he is impressed by the notion that a young woman could rally together a band of marauders and still remain somewhat civil – even downright decent. For a brief moment, he is reminded of another raider woman... her raven hair and wicked smile. The feeling of her skin pressed against his. The devastation he felt when he awoke from his drugged stupor, only to find her dead by his own hands.<br/><br/>A twinge of sorrow hits him as he stares at the fire.<br/><br/>Viv, on the other hand, can't believe she is sitting in the presence of a living campfire legend. Tyler Bellford: the Rattlesnake himself. The man who killed Jorad Kull, the greatest pit fighter who ever lived. The man who gunned down Solomon Wyatt and his gang of outlaws. The man who won the Battle Royale and killed Lord Howard, ruler of The Empire crime syndicate. Until now, she had assumed he was nothing more than a collection of stories: an almost messianic figure for the post-apocalyptic era, when the heroes of old were long dead, and no hope remained of divine salvation. Seeing him now, she understands how such legends came to pass. Survive long enough in the wastes and it almost seems preordained.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“So how is it that a man like you came to work for someone like Hale?”</span>She asks him, her face bathed in shadows from the firelight.<br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“We were just passing through. Our car broke down and we hitched a ride on one of Hale's trains. That's when... Lester, was it?”</span>She nods. Tyler continues.<span style="color: #336666">“He attacked the train. Considering the amount of firepower he was bringing, it's a wonder we made it out alive.”</span><br/><br/>She smiles.<span style="color: #8080ff">“Somehow I doubt that was the worst scrape you've been in.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler gave a faint chuckle.<span style="color: #336666">“Maybe not. Who even remembers?”</span><br/><br/>Viv glances over at Molly and the wounded raider.<span style="color: #8080ff">“So... About Wolf...”</span><br/><br/>Tyler frowns.<span style="color: #336666">“Yeah?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“He meant something to you. I can tell. Hell, you were ready to shoot everyone in here over him.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Friends are hard to come by in this world. Wolf didn't have many. I'm one of the few he could count among them. That's the thing about friends: you have their back and they have yours. And when they die, you're the one who finds the son of a bitch who put them in the ground.”</span>