The crimson headscarf of Biggs circumscribed around slick brown hair, bobbed, as he announced, “Heads.”
The coin of Cocoon swiveled ferociously in the air, eventually succumbing to the drop of gravity; its pull inevitable with its consistent plummet of all that attempted to climb against the horizons of both worlds, their metaphorical wax wings melting in the sun of war. The descent of the pence tumbled finally into the open palm of the slim youth.
“You lose, Wedge,” the bandana voiced its authority once again. The number of tosses had been have been about six, all landing in favor of the thinner of the duo.
“Okay. I give up. I’ll get the tip next time we go out for Breshan,” the self confessed “rolly-polly” sarcastically bellowed, “I wonder why Cid wants to talk to us about. It seemed he wants us to pack all supplies.”
“Go out?!?” The skinnier man shouted, “When was the last time, Dubya, that we’ve been outside this camp?”
“Before the war.” The reply was still somewhat jovial but tinged with a somber hue.
The pair, both waddled and marched, further nearer Cid’s tent, their brown boots, similar but in exception of size and stains of blood.
As the pair approached Cid’s tent, they heard the sound of a heavy bootprint behind them. “You know, Wedge, I think he might be cheating you with that coin,” Cid spoke up, a chuckle on his voice. “But no time to lose. Julian brought new arrivals. We should greet them and get them acquainted to camp life before they run off again, don’t you think?” A large and firm hand was placed on each of their shoulders as Cid turned them back towards the oncoming troupe. “Let’s go introduce ourselves, shall we?”
“Hey, I am on the up and up,” Biggs proclaimed simultaneously hiding the gymnastically inclined currency, after its last pirouette.
Wedge quickly squeezed in a remark in retaliation, “Have you been underhanding me all this time?”
“I would never do such a thing.” His smirk only evident to himself and those up ahead.
The trio, redirected by their chef and leader, trotted to the camp, where a throng was gathered, all discussing quietly from afar. Unbeknownst to the duet, the fate of a recently captured PSICOM officer, as Isis left the tent of their lieutenant. Julian quickly followed without any weapons in hand.
Biggs eventually noticed the enemy in plain sight. “What the fuck, Cid?”
“Rice said that Julian captured him,” Cid replied, noting that the prisoner was still bound. “I’m sure Jules has it completely in hand.” Truth be told, Cid was already formulating a method to keep the prisoner bound, ensuring safety for all involved. Julian would never allow an execution without cause, but that didn’t mean they would be stupid about their security.
The group pressed forward until they had gathered with the rest of the camp. The earliest lights of Eden were just barely beginning to brighten, turning the pitch dark campsite into a vista bathed in deep violets. Sunrise and sunset in the Waterscape were always the most spectacular sights on Eden, the rainbow of color spreading across the land like a visual virtuoso. Perhaps the views were not so beautiful as a sunrise on Pulse, but here on Eden, it was as good as it got.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Cid spoke up, his deep baritone interrupting the quiet hush that had fallen over the crowd. “The name’s Cid Daniels. I’m the chief engineer around here. I keep everything running and in good shape, as well as cook the food. If you need anything, let me know. I’m basically Julian’s second in command... just without the military rank. Left that behind a long time ago.” The jovial introduction was accompanied by a welcoming smile, and the way he spoke felt almost as if the newcomers were already a part of Cid’s closest confidantes.
Biggs walked up, without anyone introducing he and his partner in commerce. “Thanks, Cid! Well, you all are probably wondering who the two dudes behind him are. No, we’re not sous chefs or architects. We are suppliers, ladies and gentlemen. Specifically….” He allowed a pause to allow audience participation. Eyeing no takers after a second, He clambered on without hesitation, “B&W Outfitters.”
The rounder Wedges chimed in without missing a beat. “Is City life getting you down? Answer! The call of the wild.” He spread his hands, pointing to the Waterscape’s beautiful panorama circumventing the horizon. “With our B&W gear to protect you, a trek through these lowlands or in the dangerous cities riddled with Cie’th, will be a proverbial walk in the park. But why not leave the hustle and bustle behind, and return nature.” Wedge was gawking at Brax and the PSICOM officer when he finished.”It may be the vacation your soul needs.”
“That’s right, buddy.” Biggs polished the sales pitch. “If any of you all need any outfitting, come on over. We’ll give you a serious discount.”
“Never miss a chance for a free plug, eh?” Julian spoke up as he approached behind Biggs and Wedge. “Don’t mind the amount of cheese you hear from these guys. They’re the best of the best. Speaking of... Cid, what can we do about our friend there?” Julian nodded towards Isis. “Those ropes won’t hold long. Got some AMP shackles for him?”
Cid nodded. “Give me an hour or so, and I’ll have something whipped up for you. In the meantime, breakfast is served!” Cid gestured back towards a tent adjacent the workshops. From this distance, neither sight nor smell differentiated the slop from the grease that covered Cid’s palms. Julian grimaced slightly at the announcement. Although Cid’s cooking was... mostly edible, it left much to be desired. No one else in the camp was any better, however. Julian hoped someone in the group he had just recruited had some talent in the kitchen... and enough tact to not hurt Cid’s feelings in the meantime.
Wedge bolted to the tent promising the meal, while Biggs slowly trekked, formulating his promenade slightly in front Cid, for a moment. “Cheese? We ain’t no cheap cheddar. We’re high quality, pure Gouda when it comes to our stuff. Just got to spread the news of B&W; it’s a monetary gospel that will spread like wildfire once everyone realizes danger is real.”
He then chased after Wedge, taking a seat on a pew at the church of eggs, sausage, and toast. Each bench constructed out of birch wood was framed perfectly with matching tables, with pots and pans strewn with half-burnt meat and wheat. Everybody slowly followed Cid’s cue to the welcoming feast except B.R.A.X, who never again attempted to risk masticating the organic material, knowing that previous prototypes have festered insects and pestilence. This was due to presence of biologic matter acting as an purulent instigator if a moist meal became stuck in places that was difficult to extricate.
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