Replaying the Arcadion series on an alt and I just realized most of us were too caught up in the story and the apparent evidence (not to mention the devs' own promos and info, like those screenshots of Retsarra and the kittens grieving) to think about the obvious flaw in Hector's apparent death during Cruiserweight:
He was wearing his regulator to use the feral souls. It's still on the fighters when they come out of their transformations.
And everyone else wearing a regulator still remembers him.
This is one of those "oh, duh" moments, and I think the fiction is helped in the aftermath scene by Retsarra, who doesn't wear his regulator outside of matches, not to mention the cover stories for how the Immortalized were dealt with.
Where exactly the Arcadion situation falls during MSQ is also dicey, but taken on release timeline, Cruiserweight was 7.2, and the finale doesn't happen until 7.4, but even then, given how fast everyone forgot Namikka and later the victims of the massacre in Everkeep, we should have seen people forgetting Hector nearly immediately.
But the regulators' primary function is real easy to forget outside the raid story, too. And it wouldn't be much for people to assume the feral form of the Brute Abominator affected, or broke, or otherwise did something to the regulator.
Still. Replaying it a month before 7.5's release and knowing the delightfully wrestling zany way the story resolves, it felt like the obvious came in and hit me in the face just now.
EDIT: Alt just finished 7.0 and was doing all the raids before patch MSQ, so there's a few things mentioned there about not taking memories again (aside from Calyx's nonsense), but also Arcadion seems to be acting in a weird nebulous manner a bit apart and treating some things like they're still under old rules. Also how'd they keep such a massive inventory of normal and feral souls from Zoraal Ja? It's a little weird all around.
Summary: January nights in the dessert are no joke. Frustrated with your incessant sniffles, Chavez strikes up a conversation and gets you taken care of. A small gesture that lingers until the morning catches Doc's eye, and suddenly, you're not just a Regulator to Chavez anymore.
WC: 2.2k
Warnings: Language, mentions of being shot/stabbed/hurt, creep!Dave, racist!Dave, sexist!Dave (man, how about stupid!Dave?)
Masterlist
It had to have been hours. You'd been at it since the sun was getting ready for bed, and now, the moon had started its shift. Your hands were clasped between your bent thighs as you laid on the earth, rubbing your legs together like two wet sticks trying to start a fire. The fire did little to toast your back with no one else awake to keep it going.
Exhaustion ate at you. Your graceless tumble off your horse earlier had knocked the wind right out of you (not to mention the pride), making the regular toll of being what was once a Regulator just that much harder. Your body hurt. Your muscles cried for rest. Hell, you were ready to join in on the tears. You pulled the neck of your shirt up over your mouth, hoping to kill two birds with one stone and generate some heat with the sniffles you could no longer control.
It barely helped. Half the time, you didn't want to breathe with how rank the shirt smelled. Your last good rinse had been at least a week ago; it was hard to get privacy that lasted long enough to truly sit in the springs you came across.
"Can you knock that off?"
"Huh?"
You craned your neck over your shoulder, squinting in the direction the voice came from. Chavez blinked back at you from the other side of the fire. When had he woken up? Had you been the cause? God, that would be bad... if anybody was cranky and Billy caught wind, the day would go to hell by noon.
"I said, can you knock that off?" He repeated in the same flat tone. "I'm trying to sleep."
"Oh." You sniffled again, trying to get it together. "Sorry."
"What are you doing that for, anyways?" He asked, dragging a hand down his face.
"I'm tired, and I can't sleep, and I'm sore as hell," you mumbled, rolling over to face him. The fire cast eerie shadows over his sharp jaw. "Why are you awake?"
"Because there's this girl that can't keep her nose shut." Chavez sat up, tugging his wool blanket over him. He'd been smart enough to trade for it in the last pit-stop in Guano City, and he'd be damned if he lent to one of the fools he hung around with. "You're still hurting, huh?"
"Very much so. I bet my ribs will be the most wonderful shade of purple in the morning," you mused. In truth, you though they were purple now, but you needed the sun to check, and his shift didn't start until the morning.
"Come over here." He patted the ground beside him, sending a little dust flying into the fire. "Let me look."
"How are you going to do that?" You inquired.
"With my eyes. Come on. Sooner I look, sooner I can go back to sleep."
You cursed his kindness silently as you stood up. As cold as you were curled up, it was better than being cold and straightened up. You stepped carefully over the lump that was Billy and Doc, wondering how they'd ended up so close when there'd easily been ten feet between them when they called it a night. You plopped down next to Chavez, resisting the urge to pick up the corner of his blanket.
"Lie down," he instructed quietly. "Can't see anything if you're blocking the fire. Mind your hair."
You did so, careful to keep your hair away from the fire. While it was dying, it wasn't dead enough to take baldness out of the equation. Cold hands pushed your vest and shirt out of the way, exposing your middle. He didn't say anything at first, but you could see on his face that your ribs were looking rough.
"Not bruised-- yet, anyways," he said. "But you're still pretty red."
"Well, I hit the ground pretty hard, so..."
"Smartass." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he tugged your clothes back into place. "Ask Doc about it in the morning."
"What would Doc know? He was a dentist."
"Right, but he's a schoolteacher from the city of New York now. He's surely seen his fair share of falls. Probably knows some big-city tricks for this sort of thing."
"I doubt it," you replied.
"Well, you miss every opportunity you don't take."
"Sounds like my problem and not yours."
"You know," Chavez began. "If you won't accept any help with your ribs, you could let me help with your other problem."
"What's my other problem? Aside from Dave being a creep, and I smell like the horses-gone-even-worse, and the chronic dehydration, and--"
"Yeah, can't help you with those. But you said you were cold." He lifted the corner of his blanket up. The same corner you'd resisted taking for yourself. "And I happen to have a blanket."
"You tried to kick Dave when he asked for it," you reminded him. "You're not exactly the sharing type."
"I'd kick Dave if he said 'good morning' to me," he scoffed. "He's just so... kickable. I don't like him."
"Nobody does. Do you know why Billy even keeps him around?"
"Probably because he's excited. Besides you, he's the young one. He's spry. Hasn't been shot a million times yet."
"You've been shot... what, twice? That's not a million."
"But I've also been stabbed, thrown around, fall down cliffsides, and I've lost years of my life to Chivato over there." He nodded at Billy, whose ankle had become tangled up between Doc's. "But that's beside the point. You're cold. I've got a blanket."
"...are you sure?" You asked quietly. Chavez had never been one to share-- Dave or otherwise. He shared his wisdom like it made him richer, and you weren't sure if he even liked you that much. Yeah, he just checked your ribs for you, and he always made sure you ate, even if it was off his plate, but at the end of the day, he still regarded you with the same distance he did with everyone else. Just with a little more warmth in his eyes. But maybe that was the fire.
"I am. If you're not going to get under the blanket, then I'll gladly keep it all to myself. Move it or lose it."
You sighed, shoving your reservations down with all the other worries you had about riding the trail. You scooted closer; close enough so your shoulder became wedged against his and the blanket could hang down over your side. He adjusted it silently, then let his hand slide down to your waist. It wasn't like how Dave put his hand on your waist. When Asshole Dave, as you called him (it fit much better than 'Arkansas' to you) put his hand on your waist, you wanted to cut his hand off and slap him with it. Chavez, on the other hand, was guiding. Nothing terrible to the touch-- except for how icy his hands always were.
"Lay down," he instructed again. It wasn't like he gave you much of a choice, considering that he never moved his hand from your side. Not until you were flat, anyways. He wiggled his arm up under your head, giving your head something to rest on that wasn't crispy. Dry, maybe, but nothing like the ground. "Better?"
"Yeah," you whispered, ignoring how close he was. It felt stupid, getting butterflies just because you were close to a pal. You weren't one of Doc's schoolgirls; that wasn't like you. "Thank you."
"'course," Chavez replied. "Can't let you suffer when I can do something about it."
"...then why'd you let me hobble around on a sprained ankle after the New Year's dance?"
"What, two years ago?" He chuckled. When was the last time he did that? "I didn't know you. You were still new. You weren't one of us yet. If we went now and you hurt yourself, I'd take care of it."
"How would you do that, Chavez? Cut it off?"
"No," he said simply. "I'd do the same thing I'm doing now. I'd make sure you were warm and comfortable, and you weren't hurt too badly--" He paused, tapping your ribs with your free hand. He drew back the second you winced. "Sorry. I'd make sure you weren't hurt too badly, and I'd tell you to sleep."
"You haven't done that yet," you informed him. "Tell me to sleep, I mean."
"Oh, I haven't?" He let the smile take over this time. He adjusted his hips so he could lean down over you, just slightly. "Here: go to sleep. How was that?"
"Effective, I suppose," you yawned. "Guess that means you have to sleep, too."
"In a bit," Chavez replied, not elaborating further.
"...well, what's the hold up?"
"I gotta make sure somebody else sleeps first," was all he said.
You swallowed. "...all right then," you conceded. "I'll... try not to take too long."
"Take your time," he insisted. He tugged the blanket tighter over you, making the already intimate space feel that much smaller. "No rush."
"All right." Of course, you were going to rush. If he wanted to take care of you and make sure you stayed warm, then the least you could do was make sure he got a decent amount of sleep before Billy woke up and made all the sound in the world. "Goodnight."
"Night."
You closed your eyes for an acceptable amount of time before letting your breath even out. You were nowhere near asleep, but Chavez didn't need to know. Even if he did try to find out, you wouldn't answer because you were pretending to be asleep-- duh. But he didn't. Instead, he gave it a few more minutes, ensuring that you'd fallen deep enough into your "sleep" before tucking his chin down on top of your head and letting his eyes flutter shut.
~~~~~~~~
Some sort of holler woke you. You didn't have to be totally alert to know it was Asshole Dave Rudabaugh, trying to wake you up. You jerked into consciousness and glared at him, only progressing his laughter. You laid your head back down, surprised that you were met with terrain and not an arm. You hadn't even noticed that Chavez was already awake and gone; not with the blanket still around you.
"Rise and shine, Princess!" Dave hooted. "Places to be, people to see!"
"Like your mom?" You mumbled, sitting up. You held the blanket close around your neck. "Where's Chavez?"
"Who cares?" He said. "One less Indian in my gang means it's a good day. Why don't you get up and make us something to eat?"
"I'm not hungry. Where is he?"
"Calm down," Doc spoke up. You squinted in the harsh light, looking for him. You found him by the horses, rifling through his saddlebag. "He just went to the river. He'll be back in a bit."
You hummed and rose, stumbling over to Doc. It didn't feel like your legs wanted to work just yet. Your knees moved freely and your feet flopped. He nodded as you approached.
"Nice blanket," he noted. "Where'd you get it?"
"Shared it with Chavez last night," you mumbled. "What's down at the river?"
"Water, I assume. He didn't say." Doc closed the bag and looked down at you, lips pursed in thought. "He left you with the blanket, huh?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Well, in my time, I've learned a thing or two. Some tribes use blankets as a way to show acceptance. Not all of them. Some use it for healing, or grief, or celebrations."
"That's the teacher in you talking," you asserted. "Why's it matter?"
Doc sighed, putting his hands on your shoulders over the blanket. "Chavez-- he's from... some tribe. I can never remember. Anyways, he left his blanket around your shoulders." He gave you a knowing look. "Need I say more?"
"Yes, Doc. You do."
"I sure hope it's just because you're still tired and you're not actually this dense. My theory is that Chavez is accepting you. Okay? You belong."
"Belong where, exactly?" You scratched the side of your head.
"To-- no, not to him. That's not right. With him?" He shook his head. "Look, I don't have all the facts. But him leaving you with the blanket? It's special. Just... leave it at that, okay?"
"I think you're reading too much into this," you replied. "I was cold, we shared. He woke up before me, he left it with me. Case closed."
"If you say so," he shrugged. "But I think I'm right."
"You spend too much time with Dave. You're starting to sound like him."
"Don't hurt my feelings." He clapped your shoulders, then stepped around you. "Here he comes, why don't you ask him about it? He knows more than me."
You turned to face south, the same as Doc. Sure enough, a horse came up in the near distance. The gallop slowed to a trot as Chavez rode up to the other horses, dismounting with ease. He looked you up and down, acknowledged the blanket, then spoke.
"Morning," he said. "Sleep okay."
"Fine."
"Good. Long ride ahead of us today; make sure you eat." He set his hand on top of your head, messing up your already distasteful hair. Something he'd never done before. He walked past as if it were no big deal, but there was nothing Doc could do to keep the smile off his face.
"Told you," he taunted quietly.
"Shut up, Doc."
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