Welcome to Gaia! ::

Damion fumed at the Texan's comment about fleeing the Enclave. He was proud of his time with them. Polotics and his own indiscretions got him to where he was today.

"They wanted to put me out of the fight. I wasn't ready to go. So here I am."

Erin's speach left him feeling less at ease than before. The Deathclaw had a sense of childish nievity and puppydog cuteness in how it toyed with the Pip-Boy. It was offset in a most dramatic way by the fact that it was a walking killing machine.

"I would not know about the Halo's failure rate. I did not often serve aling side your kind."

When Joker began showing off his more exciting scars, Damion turned his attention back to the young man. His last words caused him to raise an eyebrow. Oh to be young again, he thought.

"A hundred years ago nobody would think growing up in a shattered, irradiated world was something anybody your age should have to live through."

He ran his finger across the scars on the right side of his face. They were similar to Joker's but they looked to have healed slightly better. Then he pulled the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal a jagged, but not very big scar. It didn't look like it had healed quiet as well.

"Vertibird crash. I was a few years older than you are now. Lost my eye, destroyed my inner ear, major lacerations and burns to my body and it cost me my wings. The second one is from the General's daughter. I am not sure which one cost me more."

The war paint was curious. If they were going in to assault a target then he could understand it but supposedly this town was friendly. Putting your mean face on for them might not be helpful. But if they were attacked then it would be a nice addition, he guessed.

"But you've served against them." Erin knew the look he was getting. It wasn't fear, it was a kind of savage resignation; Damion had killed deathclaws before, and knew he could do it again if he had to. Erin didn't begrudge him his mistrust, it was a perfectly healthy response to meeting a hostile Deathclaw. "I wouldn't trust myself either."

He didn't want to mention that it was a possibility they'd met, Erin had made a point of dismembering the power-armoured enclave whenever he saw them. It was a particular thing, and he supposed it to be some kind of artificial trigger he'd been given during the time of his life that he couldn't quite remember. He just went on the attack whenever he saw one.

xxA deep sigh, nigh imperceptible, arose from the back of the flatbed, where crates and containers were lashed into place. Abraxia shifted position slowly, legs curled beneath her. The grey-skinned mutant was almost entirely concealed by the supplies, leaning back against the side of the truck with her eyes half-shut, hands held loose across her expansive lap.

xxI hate trucks, she thought, not for the first time. Before she had clambered in and found somewhere moderately secluded to sit, Abraxia had ingested three anti-nausea pills from a bottle prescribed to her to help contain the motion-sickness she tended to experience during long periods of transport. She had the medication hidden in a pouch at her waist, where it was safe and close at hand. So was an empty pail--just in case.

xxDon't wanna cause trouble. Wish I could just sleep. The mutant closed her eyes again, wide lips pursed tight, and concentrated on the voices of the others as they conversed. She knew most of them--Bren, Joker and Erin she was familiar with. The last man was somewhat new, but she didn't want to interrupt their chatter or move around too much. She was counting down the hours until they would make camp.

"I don't blame you, most Deathclaws aren't worth the conversation even when they do talk. I'm well aware of my being an exception rather than a rule." He glanced down as his PIP-boy said something he didn't understand, something about a General Failure who was inexplicably trying to read his command line memory. He didn't think he had any memories of a line of command, and didn't know any Generals, so decided that the function must have been broken. "I don't get on with them either."

The way he spoke showed the way he considered himself to be something other than a deathclaw. He was physically similar, but he knew that he wasn't one of them. He was something else, he thought like a human and often had trouble following the deathclaw mentality when he had to. He wondered idly if the super mutants and ghouls in the brotherhood had the same kinds of problems with general mistrust.

Damion didn't recal ever having to hunt down children with a hatchet and bat, although there were a few he would love to take exception to. The mission statement he understood was to restore America by purging the land of mutation and those who disagreed with them. Then again, ammo was expensive. Why waist it on something that couldn't fight back?

The super mutant's rousing elected a comical responce from Joker. If Damion had not seen her there before they departed then he would have done just about the same thing.

"Hmm."

He hoped Bren would forget his question in the excitment.

"Well," he said to Erin. "I hope we do not give each other reson to doubt loyalties." He grinned. "It would be nice being on the friendly end of a Deathclaw maiming for once."

Bren looked back, slightly surprised. "Oh, hey Brax! When did you get here...I didn't even notice. Sorry!", he said excitedly, then realized the same thing. "Actually, yeah. I haven't met you either. Must be another newbie, FNG, wetnose, whatever you wanna call yourself. Welcome to the Brotherhood.", he said with a smile. The man seemed a bit off to Bren, but maybe that was just his gut playing with him...oh, how he hated long road trips.

Damion had managed to settle his expression into a mask of neutrality after his last words to the Deathclaw. While the idea of working with one still weighed on him it would be fun to see somebody else filled with terror and not have to worry about who it would attack next. As for the super mutant; knowing one was around and actually seeing one were two different things.

He watched the huge mutant reposition herself with the rest of them and hid his surprise at how articulate she was. The fact that she seemed to be having motion sickness did a lot to make her seem less "super." His mask broke when she extended a greeting toward him.

As one who had vowed to restore the Republic by sweeping the Wastelands clean of mutation, he was taken aback at this moment. Being confronted with a friendly greeting and call of brotherhood by one who was not only his sworn enemy, but the enemy of just about anybody who wasn't a Mutant, was something of a shock to him. Some prejudices die hard and for as long as he had been on his own he had not been able to overcome many of them.

Damion's mouth opened as if he were going to respond but no words came out. When his voice failed him he closed his mouth and cleared his throat. It was then he realized his hand had was firmly gripping the handle of his AK. He made sure the barrel did not move more than what could be passed off for the truck's bouncing around.

After a moment he spoke up. "Thank you." There was scorn in his voice, as though he would rather have faced off with the Deathclaw than allow himself to be kin - in any way - with Brax.

There was another pause in which he could feel the tension and awkwardness building. With a self-concious sigh he added, "You may call me Havoc."