over his head . dex one-shots

[mat]

D E X

Whoever told Dex that running away from home was a good idea must have been shitting his dick. It's tough as hell out in the middle of nowhere. According to the warming foliage, autumn is in full force. He stopped counting the days that he was away within the first month. Leaving in late August, the changes to the trees suggest it might be two or three months later at this point.

Where squirrels and bears begin their preparations to hibernate, the humans in Panem's outskirts are preparing to defend what they have. Any pop-up campsite that Dex comes across seems to have the same sorts of phrases etched in the bark of nearby trees. 'We will strike if you steal our food.' 'No extra space for shelter.' He even came across one woman who carved out an entire address for other travelers to deliver the news of her death if she's not to survive. A good way to get her loved ones killed.

A pair of men dressed in clothes prepared for District Four's summer months are still on a clean slate when Dex comes across them. Both seem rugged and ill-prepared. He rustles a low-hanging branch to gather their attention. "Hello?"

{"Well, if it isn't a young gentleman!"} One of the men rushes over and wraps his arms around Dex to pull him closer to their miniature campground. {"You're a long way from home, wanderer. Whaddya need?"}

He hates the wanderer title. It makes his purpose feel unclear or useless. Dex has a purpose: to stick it to his fathers until they decide to treat their clients instead of charging them outrageous prices for a placebo pill.

"I was just wondering if you two needed any help or another man by your side?"

{"Oh, kiddo. You're not a man, yet."} With a huff he rubs Dex's back. Dex shuffles out of his back and away from their logged seating arrangements. {"We can offer you some little trinkets to enjoy while you're on your adventure."}

"Like what?"

{"We've got some flashlights, a couple of hatchets, a pistol, albeit no bullets, a pack of cigarettes-"}

"The cigarettes," he answers instantaneously. He only took one pack when he ran out of Six, and he'd been craving more ever since. "What'll it cost me?"

{"Your bag."}

Dex begins taking things out of his bag and into his pockets.

{"No, buddy. Everything in it, too."}

"That's not a fair trade, buddy."

{"Don't get smart with us. We've been living out here for five years. You want these so bad?"} He dangles the twelve-pack of cigarettes in his hand. Even a few feet away, Dex can hear them shaking in the container. {"Give it up."}

"I don't appreciate getting cheated."

{"Then how about you just get nothing instead?"}

Both of them jump Dex in unison, throwing him to the ground with a few punches and kicks before leaving him defenseless. They take everything from him: from the bottles of water he'd picked up from the lake to the warm jacket wrapped around his waist.

{"Silly boy,"} the man playfully slaps Dex across the face as he begins to cry from humiliation. {"Good luck, wanderer."}

He can't get the courage to rise up and challenge them again. They're larger, buffer, and more skilled than he is. Dex wouldn't stand a chance. He waits a few minutes until they're long gone to get up and wipe the streaks of dirt off his pant legs.

A new man with a deeper, calmer voice emerges from the trees with a cigarette popped into his mouth. He lends a hand to Dex, which he gladly takes up. {"Rule number one: don't travel alone."} The man takes the cigarette out from his mouth and lends it to Dex. With an extra light from the gentleman, he smokes for the first time in weeks. {"Rule number two: do what you need to in order to survive."}

"Who are you?"

{"Mr. Z."}

"How ominous."

{"I've got a group just a few miles out from here. We look after each other. Why don't you join us?"} Dex happily obliges, allowing the man to lead the way. {"Welcome to the Wandering Defiance, uh, what's your name?"}

"Dex."

{"Right, right! Welcome, Dexxy Boy."}

elegant