As Tyler carefully examines the items on display at the trading post, he takes his time with an old road map, sealed and waterproofed with some kind of clear coat, and marked with current information. Star Lake lies about an hour away by car, maybe half a day's walk on foot; New Boise a few hours west of that. Giving the vendor a handful of bartering chits, he buys the map and a box of ammunition for his guns, but not before carefully sorting through the bullets to discard unusable calibers. When he's finished paying, he meets Deckard over at the fighting pits. But rather than fighting, Deckard simply stands off to the side, lost in thought.<br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Easy money in there.”</span>Tyler comments on the particularly weak-looking fighters.<br/><br/>Something is clearly weighing on Deckard's mind, as he changes the subject immediately.<span style="color: #bf0040">“You remember the tournament back in Boise, right? Howard always had a girl sitting to the left when he viewed the fights. They called her the Left Hand of God. He called her his Desert Flower.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler's expression hardens as he nods.<span style="color: #336666">“And the hookers they hired for the fighters...”</span><br/><br/>Deckard completes Tyler's thought:<span style="color: #bf0040">“Fire Lilies.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“You think this Slater is connected somehow?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #bf0040">“Wouldn't doubt it. We're in old Empire territory, and those girls up and vanished after The Pit burned down. If they're training up raiders like her...”</span>Deckard inclines his head over at Viv.<span style="color: #bf0040">“...then they're probably using Howard's old contacts to set up infrastructure.”</span>Deckard huffs bemusedly.<span style="color: #bf0040">“It all adds up. Think about it: this was an organization that pretty much owned the Northwest, right? Those local bosses wouldn't just vanish because their leader died. But they wouldn't give fealty to some random gash – not even one as close to Howard as her. She'd need to recruit muscle to drag them into line. And who better than someone who wanted to see every trace of the Empire destroyed?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Wolf...”</span>Tyler mutters.<br/><br/>Deckard nods with a smirk.<span style="color: #bf0040">“I think it's as good a lead as any. You in, partner?”</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>As Viv finally picks out a suitable rifle – a SWAT issue Remington 700 – right as Tyler and Deckard approach. She conducts her trade and turns to them, but by their expressions, she knows they've already reached a decision without her.<span style="color: #8080ff">“What?”</span>She knows the answer before the words even escape her lips.<br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“We need you to set up a meeting with Slater.”</span>Tyler replies.<br/><br/>Tightening her jaw, she answers,<span style="color: #8080ff">“I don't think you two want--”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Everything has a price, Viv.”</span>Tyler says softly, placing his hand on her shoulder.<span style="color: #336666">“Can you arrange it?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“I haven't spoken with her in years. This might not go well...”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #bf0040">“I'm positive we've dealt with worse.”</span>Deckard chimes in with a grin.<br/><br/>She looks at both men, hoping for some way to dissuade them. But seeing none, she eventually nods.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>It's a curious sight: a series of yurts along a dried up lake. Multiple storage cisterns with water pumps drawing from deep within the earth. No real guard towers or walls to speak of. The flimsy, modular suburban remnants of the town that lay here from before the war have long since decayed. As they drive up to the edge of the yurts, Viv leans forward from the back seat and places a hand on Tyler's shoulder.<span style="color: #8080ff">“Hold up.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Expecting trouble?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“I don't know yet...”</span><br/><br/>Stepping out of the car, Tyler and Deckard wait behind as Viv slowly approaches the large yurt in the center. She glances from side to side, feeling the eyes of the others on her, as well as those hidden from view. Holding her hands up, she says loudly,<span style="color: #8080ff">“I am Vivian Rowe. I've come seeking counsel with my matron, the Desert Flower.”</span><br/><br/>A pregnant pause follows. For a moment, she's uncertain if anyone is even there to listen. As she looks back at Tyler, she spots a handful of beautiful women in shear kimonos stepping from their yurts. Tyler and Deckard glance at one another before cautiously stepping forward. As they do, they find themselves surrounded by women: most of mixed Asian descent, all with fair complexions and a distinctly unblemished appearance. They regard the two men with curiosity, as if a novelty has stepped upon their doorstep rather than two dangerous strangers. Without words, they lead the two men inside the largest yurt, while a pair of other women take Vivian to another, smaller one. Tyler and Vivian lock eyes for a moment, both of them equally confused. Their gaze is broken as they are ushered forward to their respective destinations.<br/><br/>Vivian finds herself wordlessly led to a steaming wash tub and quickly disrobed by efficient, nimble hands. Their quickness is alarming at first, but she remembers such a process from her youth. All women placed within the company of the Fire Lilies are cleansed of the outside world. With soap that smells of flowers, she's scrubbed vigorously until a layer of grime vanishes from her skin. A few of the silent women regard her scars with lingering scrutiny, but their speed and efficiency is otherwise unhindered. In a matter of moments she is brought fresh clothes and brought to what looks like a bedroom. But before she can ask anything, the silent women have already vanished.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, inside the largest yurt, Tyler and Deckard are taken into the soft dim of the Desert Flower's sanctum. Ahead, a woman kneels at a shrine with her back turned, her body covered in a kimono with a black veil over her face. She raises one hand and gestures to the right, and suddenly Deckard is taken elsewhere by the silent women. There, in the darkness, only Tyler and the veiled woman remain. She lights a stick of incense before standing and turning to the stranger before her.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“Do you know who I am?”</span><br/><br/>Tyler regards the woman carefully. He's still armed, but something about the situation lessens the comfort of that fact.<span style="color: #336666">“They used to call you the Left Hand of God.”</span><br/><br/>He can see a faint smile from under her veil. She steps forward, and the red of her hair can be seen reflected in the faint light.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“And I see before me a man who has killed a god...”</span>She steps forward into his space and trails her hand down his chest before circling him.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“...and may yet be a god himself. For who but a god could kill a god?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“I wasn't the only one who killed him...”</span>Tyler eyes follow her as she moves.<br/><br/><span style="color: #ffa07a">“Ah, yes... The Lone Wolf...”</span>She wets her lips as she speaks, as if savoring the words themselves.<br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Did you kill him?”</span>Tyler asks bluntly.<br/><br/>She lets out a loud, almost musical laugh.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“Such force. Such a drive for vengeance...”</span><br/><br/>Tightening his jaw, he utters coldly,<span style="color: #336666">“Don't make me ask again...”</span><br/><br/>Approaching him, she slowly draws the veil back from her face, revealing the full extent of her beauty. She's every bit the paragon he remembers – somehow even more so, despite the advancement of time. Looking into his eyes, she replies,<span style="color: #ffa07a">“No.”</span>She caresses his cheek.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“But I know who did...”</span><br/><br/>Grabbing her hand, he stares into her, his gaze enough to shake even the most steadfast courage. But she has dealt with powerful men before. She has brought them to trembling ecstasy and broken all semblance of resolve within them. She knows she can break him too. Moving her mouth up to his, she whispers,<span style="color: #ffa07a">“There's a price, warrior...”</span><br/><br/>Tyler looks into her eyes, knowing full well what he must do. Grimly, he takes her by the back of the head with one hand, and pulling her by the waist with the other, brings her close to kiss her hard.<br/><br/>Their hands move aggressively, pawing at one another with a feverish need for tactile sensation. His clothes and weapons fall to the floor as her full, sensual figure presses against him. The silky, epicurean fabric of her kimono falls aside, its texture rivaled only by the naked flesh beneath it. He lifts her off the ground with effortless strength and sets her gently upon him, and as he enters her, a throaty cry of pleasure erupts from deep within her body.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>Deckard passes through some kind of sweet-smelling mist that permeates his nostrils and leaves a sort of airy sensation behind. He's led underground, though where or exactly how far down remains uncertain. All he knows is the ambient temperature has dropped, and the walls around him echo with each footstep. Then, the light dims increasingly, until only an illuminated circle lies ahead. The silent women stop him in the center of the light, and one by one they disappear into the blackness around him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #bf0040">“Of course...”</span>Deckard mutters.<span style="color: #bf0040">“Tyler gets left with the woman and I get taken to the creepy basement...”</span><br/><br/>A low growl rumbles from the darkness. It grows louder, sending a tremor through the ground that reverberates through Deckard's boots. Suddenly, he sees it: a twisted fragment of what might have once been human. It stands a whole head taller than Deckard, with a massive head and mismatched limbs. It lumbers forward with one monstrous arm dragging what looks like an airplane propeller. The other arm is comparatively tiny, bound with wire and girdled to its torso. It stops just at the light and lets out a hideous snarl before dashing forward with frightening speed, swinging its makeshift weapon right over the gunslinger's head.<br/><br/>Deckard rolls forward, whipping out his shotgun and emptying both barrels into the creature's knees. It topples over and lets out a pained moan, and as it writhes on the ground, Deckard can see a number of other figures emerging from the darkness: mutated all, their hideous forms banging on metal objects as they taunt their latest victim.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Tyler feels the sensation come over him as he looks down upon her naked body. The back of her head bounces with the movement of his hips, and the locks of her hair seem to stir and move like a coiled mass of snakes. He blinks, wiping the sweat from his brow, and as he tries to shake the image from his mind he is faced with it yet again: a writhing tangle that flows from her hair and down her body, suddenly wrapping around his hands and drawing him downward into her. He stops, trying to break free of the serpents, but the more he fights the more he feels himself pulled inward. He lets out a strained grunt right as the coil of her hair parts and reveals a pool of ichorous fluid beneath. It takes the last of his strength to pull away, but instead, he is drawn into the pool and forced to gaze at what lies within.<br/><br/>His eyes open. He's ten years old again, sitting at the kitchen table. His father bound and bloody. His mother lies prone on the floor as the men have their way with her. <span style="color: teal">“You did nothing to save us!”</span> She cries out to him, staring into him, her eyes accusing. Pulling away, he looks to his father.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“You did nothing!</span><br/><br/>He pulls away again and runs – through the house and out the back door. But the snakes return, coiling around him. At the head of the writhing mass, a serpent opens its mouth and the face of Elektra emerges from within. <span style="color: orangered">“It was your fault.”</span><br/><br/>He shuts his eyes – so tight they stretch every muscle in his face. A scream follows with a gentle brush of his cheek, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Elektra – strangled under his bloody hands. Her voice echoes in his mind: <span style="color: orangered">“You killed me. You'll kill her too.”</span><br/><br/>Viv appears before him, her lithe body naked and face smiling. He reaches out, his fingertips touching hers. But in an instant she is caught aflame, immolated by his hand.</span><br/><br/>Tyler awakens sharply, sweat pouring down his face. He looks around, panting, trying to get his bearings again. He's in a bed within Slater's yurt, naked. His head swimming with the latent afterimages of his nightmare. When he turns, the Desert Flower is staring at him.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“The debt is paid.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“What...”</span>Tyler touches his temple.<span style="color: #336666">“What did you do to me?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #ffa07a">“A sacrament.”</span>She rises from the bed, her naked body turned as she puts on her kimono.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“To know a god is to become a god. But you are only a man.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler huffs amusedly, his mind still foggy.<span style="color: #336666">“Sorry to disappoint.”</span><br/><br/>She smiles slightly as she snuffs the coil of incense.<span style="color: #ffa07a">“Thirty kilometers north of New Boise, there is an old farm house. You'll know it by the shale rock wall. There, you'll find the answers you seek.”</span><br/><br/>Taking note, Tyler finds his clothes on the floor and begins to get dressed.<span style="color: #336666">“That it?”</span><br/><br/>She kneels before the shrine, saying nothing. A moment passes while Tyler finishes dressing, and as he begins to leave, she finally breaks the silence and says,<span style="color: #ffa07a">“You desire her.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler freezes, gritting his teeth. As he turns to protest, she adds,<span style="color: #ffa07a">“As I'm sure she desires you. No doubt she offered herself to you already.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler shakes his head.<span style="color: #336666">“That wasn't--”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #ffa07a">“The sleeper tells no lies. It is only natural: a chance at redemption for you and an escape from pain for her. But confuse neither for love, warrior. No happiness lies down that path.”</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>Deckard's eyes flick open, his clothes folded neatly in a pile beside him. He lies naked, surrounded by the silent women, each of them leering at him in utter fascination – like children poking a dead animal. His head feels foggy: the last thing he remembers is fighting mutated freaks underground. But around him, no signs of that fight can be seen. Quickly, he grabs the shotgun lying by the pile of clothes and checks the shells: neither are spent, nor are any missing from his bandolier.<br/><br/>He groans. Was it all a hallucination? Had he really fought against creatures in sub kind of subterranean arena? If so, why was he naked now? One thing is certain: the leering eyes of the women around him make him extremely uncomfortable. Quickly, he throws his clothes on and pushes his way to the nearest door.<br/><br/>When he emerges, Tyler is standing by the car with a sour look on his face. Awkwardly, Deckard walks over to the vehicle and gets in. Tyler follows suit. And as they drive away, the two look at each other, unable to explain what had just happened.<br/><br/><span style="color: #bf0040">“Wh--”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“I have no fucking idea.”</span>Tyler answers before Deckard can even finish.<br/><br/>Tightening his lips, Deckard watches the town of Star Lake fade away behind them.<span style="color: #bf0040">“You think she'll be okay there?”</span><br/><br/>Tyler says nothing. He has no answer to give – only the vague hope that Vivian is able to find help within that group.