Foxhole || Chapter Two

*banging pots and pans* IT’S HERE! The second instalment to my incredibly self-indulgent slice of literature. Additionally, I have great news- my exams are finally over, giving me time to kick back and be far more active! Expect more cursed edits, attempts at actual art, and of course excessive writing.

Hear me out, this chapter was originally going to include the aforementioned encounter with Don Paragon, but it ended up being far too long for the final cut, so this scene will be included in the next part instead. He will appear very soon, I assure you. Let’s jump right into the story!

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Foxhole [Nomad x Reader]

Chapter Two || A Supererogatory Homecoming

Ah, the Oasis. One of your favourite places to be. Ever. Note the evident sarcasm in the previous statement if you may. What was proclaimed as a safe haven for poor souls of Nowhere alike, offering generous supplies of luxuries such as food and water, in exchange for a modest interest of practically 90% of your life savings. And yet, townsfolk and wandering vagabonds equally had no choice but to pay the heavy price, as was the cost of staying alive in such a cruel terrain. Providentially for your own health concerns, your occupation provided a detour to the fast lane of the Oasis' corrupt system. As much as you hated to it it, you were a lackey of sorts to the big man who ran the place. A successful bounty would earn you a high-and-dry stock of basic needs, and much to the boss's delight you never failed to disappoint. It earned you rather lavish respect and favouritism, despite the ever hanging guilt of being shadowed by the less fortunate human beings who were hauling their sweat and tears below your feet. Nevertheless, you reminded yourself firmly that this was your foxhole, and fragility or pity towards others paid no benefit to the comfy little world you had barricaded yourself in.

Now, you weren't exactly looking forward to this sudden meeting with the old big shot of the place, especially due to the short notice- who knows what his high pitched voice would demand in those irrationally raised decibels? One thing was for sure: he got what he wanted, as soon as he wanted it. Wanted criminals, stolen items, curiously even a set of jewellery on one occasion; it was all hand delivered by yours truly. After all, the uppermost thing that should be valued in life is, as the Don says, being first. But dear lord, may you have unprecedented mercy for those absolutely outrageous nicknames he gives you. This last thought was desperately being projected upon your mind as you drew closer to the grand, imperious gates that cut off the average market goers from the opulent headquarters of your impending doom.

You were within meters of stepping through the intimidating demeanour of the entrance when you were halted by a person barrelling into your side like a steam train, only it was a smallish steam train with untameable ginger hair. You were about to instinctively reach for the pistol in your back pocket but relaxed in the owner's hold as you recognised the unmistakable grin of the particular happy-go-lucky spittoon girl you knew and loved.

"Ah, Y/n! I knew I'd see ya again sooner or later!"

Once you had carefully removed yourself from the freckled girl's death grip of a hug and thankfully inhaled a lungful of air, you gave a warm smile in response.

"Good to see you too, Skout."

"What did ya do this time? Fight some bandits? Explore an uncharted cave?"

She animatedly provided hand gestures to her queries, making you chuckle.

"Top secret, I'm afraid to say. But what I CAN tell you is that I brought a souvenir."

You ruffled her hair in a fond manner and took the (stolen) hat off your head and placed it on her wild flame-coloured locks. She gave a squeak of excited gratitude, then began to ramble relentlessly about her own misfits and whacky adventures she had encountered along her travels with the Dandy Lions.

You couldn't help but be amused by her childish antics as you watched her eyes light up during a specific anecdote about an undiscovered plant species. Since the beginning of your escapades in working for director of the Oasis, you had coincidentally run into the bright gal known as Skout, who you had taken a liking to immediately. It happened that one day you were leaving with a new assignment when you collided with a shorter person who was aiding supplies for her party's wagons as they were about to set upon another journey. After muttering what sounded like 'dunderhead' under her breath and dusting herself off, you apologetically helped her onto her feet, and thus a beautiful friendship blossomed.

She subsequently introduced you to the motley crew of men and the no-nonsense general who composed the 'Dandy Lions', a self acclaimed force to be reckoned with even though you swore most of them looked as if they'd rather be draining rounds of alcohol in a local bar than wearing the laughably comic uniforms that defined their status. Mentally you had branded Toth as 'Looks Like She Could Kill You And Could Actually Kill You'; the pompous second in command Red Manuel as 'Looks Like An Asshole And Is Actually An Even Bigger Asshole'; and of course, Skout was without a doubt the 'Cinnamon Roll Too Good For This Unforgiving World'. You'd exchange your experiences from each of your excursions out among the dust plains, and even though you rarely saw each other it was comforting to know you had at least one person you could confide in. On her discovering you were a renowned bounty hunter, she looked up to you with undaunted iration and fascination, constantly inquiring upon your little 'jobs' and you satisfied her with a dramatic re-enactment of your mortal perils, along with realistic sound effects. Man, you should have really considered the acting industry before applying to be a shoot first, ask questions later guy.

"..and then I ended up meeting the Nomad, who actually was a really friendly guy- he didn't look or act like the posters said he did. But then Toth always seems to think that everything can be solved with knives and-"

"Hold up, THE Nomad? As in the Nomad Of Nowhere?"

"It was him alright! Shame he got away. Don Paragon sure ain't letting us take that loss easily."

Skout lowered her voice and waved her hand in the direction of her stony faced general, who was tethering horses to a wagon and sending them death glares when they did not comply. You shuddered.

”Yikes, Toth does not look like a happy bunny. I'm assuming the debrief wasn't all sunshine and rainbows."

The ginger nodded with a wistful expression.

"We ain't allowed to go lookin' for the Nomad any more. Toth got shown up by Red Manuel, and now we gotta go check up on some boring old assignment out in who knows where in the desert sands" She explained with a melancholy tone.

You felt sympathy, both for Skout and poor Toth, whom you respected greatly as a strong authoritarian figure. Resting a hand on her shoulder, you were about to offer reassurance when you had to be conveniently interrupted by a guard donning the signature yellow uniform.

”Don Paragon is waiting for you inside."

With one last longing look at the exit, you gave an encouraging pat on the back to the jovial spittoon girl and departed for the gates, additionally emitting an acknowledging nod towards Toth as you ed her. Unfortunately, you did not spot Red Manuel and had to be deprived of giving the middle finger as your usuals parting gesture. Wavering thoughts preoccupied your mind as you entered the superfluous headquarters of your equally superfluous boss, thoughts that specifically revolved around Skout's mention of the so-called 'Dreaded Nomad'. Multitudinous amounts of rumours shrouded the last magic of Nowhere, the person of which peaked your curiosity. Sure, you'd seen the posters: an imposing figure possessing sinister facial qualities, and a prodigious reward, too. However, chances were that even catching a glimpse of the most-wanted fugitive was about as fair as trying to find your needle-sized hopes and dreams in the haphazardly jumbled haystack of your life. And yet he had finally been uncovered, and was most likely on the loose, probably wreaking havoc on a small town with his dark necromancy at this very moment. As the old and unwise saying goes, what could go wrong?

You wished you hadn't asked yourself that irrational question as soon as you had stepped through the doors into the elaborate interior that held your worst nightmare.

"Why, if it isn't my favourite little bushy tailed bounty hunter!"

On second thoughts, perhaps you should have become a hermit instead.

A white-haired, sassy gremlin swaggered into the room as if they were a swanky fashion model. The kind of fashion model who looks as artificial as generic brand orange juice. You wondered who in the name of all things legitimately natural was this catwalk wannabe, and where on earth Don Paragon was-

Oh, wait. That IS Don Paragon.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Wattpad link