The campfire crackles. You idly pluck a string on your old guitar. No one is speaking.
No one has to say anything. The Throne is out there. Everyone knows what's at stake. The fate of the wasteland is in your motley crews' hands. Melting shifts in his sleep. The poor bastard always is plagued by nightmares.
Then again, you all are. The wasteland's a tough place, and you saw its fiery genesis. You thought you'd seen everything before that day. You'd dealt with theives, murderers, rapists. The scum of the earth, monsters in every sense of the word. Now, everyone you knew was a monster. Including you. Especially you.
Steroids turns the page of his book on theoretical physics, and a few hundred dollar bills fall out. He sighs, kicking the money over to Yung Venuz. The triangular alien snatches the money and continues counting the cash in front of him. You don't know why he bothers counting.
Across from you, Crystal sits, polishing herself. She looks up for a brief m