The Wasteland

Chapter Five: The Devil That You Forgot

20 Years & 10 Days Later

The sounds of nearby chatter can be heard in the darkness, familiar sounds, and nearby by.

"Boyle, Flamenco. Shut the fuck up!"

Moonshot's eyes slowly open up to two men in orange-dyed cloth jumpsuits. One is an Orc that wears a stitched-in name that says, Boyle. The other is a Dragon-kin called a Dragonborn, he wears the same sort of stitched-in name that reads, Flamenco. Moonshots sits up from the prison bed, wearing the same jumpsuit only the stitched-in name is missing. The Orc and Red Dragonborn turn to stare at the slightly aging Wood Elf, his hair slightly graying. 

"What is the big deal you shite!" Boyle says quickly, he quickly gets into Moon's face. 

"Every single day, it's the same argument. Every. Single. Time." Moon quickly says, "Who cares about the damn cigarettes, Flamenco always owes you about five!" Moon stands up and towers over the 5'5" Orc. His golden goat eyes slightly dimmed and he breathes in heavily. 

"No one cares what you think, G.A.S.T dog!" Flamenco quickly says getting close to the two, "Back out or you'll spend the day with daggers aimed at your back." The Dragonborn stands eye to eye with Moon. 

"Try me scale bag."

Moonshot and Flamenco stare at each other for some time before Boyle puts a hand on the Dragonborn's chest.

"He ain't worth it, weez gotta go anyways." The Orc says quietly, noticing that the two won't back down. Boyle shepherds Flamenco and himself out of the cell the whole time Flamenco stares at Moon intently. 

Suddenly, Moonshot is alone in the cold cell. He sits back on the uncomfortable bed and sighs, releasing his aggression in a short, hearty breath. He takes a moment before his eyes brighten as he stands back up leaving his cell. He scans the hall revealing it to be empty aside from a couple of stragglers he looks at the wall, reading one thing repeatedly, 'Newgate Supermax Prison' repeatedly spaced out on the walls. He skillfully dodges interaction with other prisoners as he makes his way down the hall and to a set of stairs.

Childhood

"You are not my father!" A pre-teen, in human years, Moonshot screams at an older Dwarven man.

"Just because you are seventy-six doesn't mean you know everything!" The Dwarven man says quickly slamming a mug down onto a nearby table, "When I was your age, I didn't know shite! Kids always think they will suddenly be all-knowing when they become older! News flash! You don't!" The Dwarven man sighs before falling back into a chair. 

"Father, take it easy on him! He's just confused and doesn't understand our traditions, he's a Wood-elf remember?" Arthur appears as a pre-teen, in human years. "Cut him some slack, he's been through some muck."

Present

Moonshot descends the stairs and heads towards the mess hall. Upon entering, he surveys the vast cafeteria-like room filled with numerous tables. Moonshot carefully observes the occupants, mentally noting their alliances. His attention is drawn to the group consisting of Boyle and Flamenco, notorious for their violent acts. Despite being arsonists and mass murderers, they possess a strong sense of patriotism. Aware of his status as public enemy number one due to his conflicting beliefs, Moonshot avoids their piercing gazes as he joins the line for food. As he waits, he gazes down at his scarred hand, a reminder of his past suffering. Flexing his hand, he notices the faint pulsation of his veins. Massaging his wrist, he continues to move along the line, stealing glances at the Boyle-Flamenco duo. He lets out a sigh approaching the food tray, but just as he reaches for it, the nearby tray slips from his grasp and crashes to the floor. Glancing back towards the cafeteria booth, he spots one of Boyle and Flamenco's buddies dressed as a prison chef. Their eyes meet, prompting the chef to chuckle and wave Moon away with a mischievous grin. Moonshot nods in understanding and moves on, familiar with this situation. Making his way to a secluded set of tables, he sits, only to find himself quickly surrounded by Boyle and Flamenco's entourage.