Chapter Text
Now done with the shields, Gaige was snooping around through Claptrap’s salvage, finding a few more hypo syringes and some ammo which she divided between everyone. The cash she kept all to herself, though. Axton and Salvador had found some large swaths of orange canvas that they were stringing up to form a large makeshift tent around the furnace so all the heat didn’t escape through the huge hole in the ceiling. When they were done, everyone gathered beneath it. Maya and Gaige called dibs on the couch and quickly made themselves comfortable at each end. Krieg sat cross-legged in the snow on the floor next to Maya, apparently satisfied where he was. Salvador and Axton sprawled out across the platform in front of the furnace, using their packs for pillows. Zer0 leaned against the nearby wall. Tired and hungry, the Vault Hunters dug through their bags in search of food, except for Krieg who didn’t have anything more edible than a flare and Zer0 who abruptly volunteered to take first watch and disappeared back down the passageway to guard the door, apparently.
Axton was better prepared than the others as far as grub went. Military training had managed to instill him with a few useful skills before things turned to shit. So, he tended to have a few extra rations floating around his bag. Still, he didn’t know how long they were all going to be stuck out in the snow, so he kept the food hidden, taking out only a few scraps of jerky and a powerbar. He shared his water and his whiskey though, something everyone appreciated. Salvador was eating something unidentifiable, but that smelled unbelievably spicy, so no one bothered to ask for some. Gaige, unsurprisingly, feasted on candy which prompted Maya to toss the teen a granola bar. “Thanks,” Gaige muttered, somewhat embarrassed that she hadn’t thought to bring something more substantial, but then again, she hadn't been expecting to be so abruptly tossed (or exploded) from a train.
Maya, herself, ate another bar and some weird alien beast jerky that had an interesting blue shimmer to the meat, but was edible. Halfway through her dinner, though, it occurred to her that Krieg had nothing. So she offered the rest of what she was eating. “It’s not baby steaks, but it’s something,” she said.
Krieg eyed the food through his gas mask with dissatisfaction. It was nowhere near the amount he usually consumed. His body’s metabolism was radically changed during all the experimentation he had endured. Now, he required vast amounts of food fairly regularly. So the bit of jerky and half a granola bar weren’t going to cut it. Still, the fact that she offered was nice and made his fingers itch to take it. Let her keep it, The Little Man advised, There will be some animal out there for us to kill and eat later. You can do without for now. The Psycho pushed Maya’s hand away firmly, not violently, but not gently, either. “Eat, Pretty Lady,” he said and he got up to pace the snow outside the tent.
The Siren blinked, surprised, and nibbled thoughtfully on the remainder of her granola bar. “Not as crazy as he looks, is he?” Gaige muttered softly; she had been watching the exchange with mild interest.
“Guess not…” Maya shrugged.
“KILL THE LITTLE MAN!” Krieg shouted, startling them all as he smashed the blunt end of his buzzaxe into his gas mask. It was a grim reminder that, regardless of his softer moments, he was, indeed, a psychopath.
“Still pretty nuts, though,” Axton added.
The Mechromancer and the Siren both nodded in silent agreement. After everyone had eaten, they all began to drift off to sleep one by one, except for Krieg who continued to pace the room. Axton fell asleep with his hand on his digistructor, just in case. Even Claptrap rolled into the middle of their little enclosure and tucked its wheel and arms up into its main housing, switching into sleep mode.
Krieg hated the silence. It left him alone with the voice in his head and now that he’d met that Siren, The Little Man was particularly chatty. Despite this, the soft tug of sleep danced across his eyes and he eventually returned to his place beside the couch. Inside the tent was warm, but the night was still cold, and Maya and Gaige were shivering in their sleep. Not violent shaking, but enough for Krieg to notice. Before The Little Man could order him to do it, the Psycho retrieved the blanket from his bag and tossed it haphazardly over the pair of them. Good job. Didn’t even have to tell you to do it this time. The Little Man meant it to be encouraging praise, but the sound of his voice grated on Krieg’s nerves.
Maya’s eyes opened slightly and she watched Krieg curl into the snow beside the couch through the small slits. She didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed to flirt with the line between crazy and sane. Beyond it being tiring and frustrating to communicate with him, it also made him all the more dangerous. He was volatile and bloodthirsty, operating primarily on instinct. In some ways he was closer to an animal than a man and she hated herself for thinking it. If there was one thing she learned while at the abbey it was how oppressive others’ judgments could be. They all wanted a puppet goddess to vent her wrath across the masses…she cringed inwardly and curled beneath the blanket, scrunching her eyes shut, tightly…Those people were so afraid of me. Thought I was a monster…Her eyes wondered back toward Krieg and she finally understood what it felt like to be one of those terrified thousands who prayed for mercy at the abbey. Never again…she promised to herself as much as to Krieg, then she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Sometime during the night, Krieg awakened to the sound of screams bouncing around inside his head. The Little Man was dreaming, beginning to remember what happened, but not yet able to grasp it consciously. It worried the Psycho. His entire existence hinged on the sane man's inability to deal with the pain—that white hot moment of sundering that heralded Krieg’s birth. It set his teeth on edge. Fear-induced adrenaline crawling over his skin like spiders, making him restless. Making him want to kill. But he couldn’t, not when he was surrounded by so many dangerous people. He might be able to get one—two at the most before someone put him down. Krieg understood nothing if not survival and it was within his best interest to check his urges. It was hard though. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his breathing irregular, and his mind full of crimson. His body heat rose, sinking him further into the snow as it melted beneath him. It was a hunger that would consume him if not sated and The Little Man wasn’t around to tug on the leash. Kill. Blood. Pain. Kill. Blood. Pain. It played on a loop in his mind, bouncing off the fissures of his brain like ricocheting bullets, punctuating every urge with an exclamation mark. It was chaos. Blinding, blurring, bewildering, and beautiful. Kill! Blood! Pain! Kill! Blood! Pain!
That was when she stirred. He heard her move against the groaning springs of the couch as she repositioned her body in her sleep. His hearing wasn’t always so acute. Only in moments like this when he was more primal than modern and The Little Man wasn’t using his skull as a soundboard. He sat bolt upright, his spine rigid and straight. His first impulse was to swing his buzzaxe, bring it down into her sleeping frame before she had the chance to even open her eyes. Spin the blade in her neck so she couldn’t scream. But then her eyes opened, blurry and heavy with sleep. She looked at him. The firelight danced in her gray eyes. Her blue lipstick was smeared a little, mussing her appearance with a strange vulnerability. He remembered what his other half had told him by the train tracks: ‘She could kill you with her mind.’ Had that been what stayed his hand? The fear of death? Or had it been something else? She did look beautiful nestled on the couch beneath the blanket he had given her. The hunger passed, eased out of his gut with a sigh from her lips.
“Nightmares?” she whispered to him, the concern apparent in her voice. Krieg nodded, slow and silent. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Do you want to go for a walk? Clear your head?” Krieg shook his head, maintaining the same silence. She stared at him, her brow knit, unsure what to do. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, “Try and get some sleep, okay? It’s almost dawn.” Then she laid her head back down onto the arm rest and closed her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep again.
Didn’t kill anyone, so that’s a good thing, The Little Man said suddenly, causing Krieg to jump. His voice was off. Softer than usual and emotional, he’d finally surfaced from his nightmares and whatever he had seen was still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. Maybe it would fade. Maybe it wouldn’t. Only the dawn would tell whether or not the sane man still needed his protector. Dreams were so hard to hang onto and the horrors lurking in the annals of their memories were no small things. Krieg didn’t know what would happen if his other half managed to pull himself back together, and he didn’t want to find out. What the saner man didn’t understand was that Krieg had always existed within him. Deep, in the darkest, most murderous corner of his brain. All those violent, sexual, insatiable impulses he never acted on cross-stitched together with threads of torture and freak-science to make the Scarecrow, the Psycho, the monster to chase away the fear, to conquer the new twisted biology thrust upon his body, to relish the pain. He was finally let out of his cage and never wanted to go back in. The Siren complicated things. Krieg liked her. Found her attractive and his body was naturally curious about her. But she made the beast want to behave. Don’t fuck this up and maybe things will get better for us, The Little Man warned and Krieg rolled his eye, laying back across the snow to fall asleep.