a gift for you, overnighted

by d__T

Summary:

Pollution gets back together with War after the apocawhoops. Some things are different, some are the same; it's all different now.

Chapter 1

After the apocawasn’t, the humans carry on just as they did before. They don’t know that they all almost died and so they continue to hasten their collective end day by day.

Shipping trash and recycling across the oceans to land in the same holes in the hurting earth. Oh the excess of it, the delusion, the fuel consumption of each ship! Pollution could hardly do better themself.

It’s like the game they play on their phone, a legacy of their predecessor. Pestilence and Pollution; in the water and on ships and in the soil. 

Their phone is face down on the glass cafe table; today they’re instagram influencer pretty, long nails perfect hair perfect makeup perfect steel straw in their iced coffee. The steel straw is a little joke- straws could be biodegradable but to manufacture and ship a million steel straws? All the little plastic pieces to make that happen are so delicious. The coffee cup is plastic, disposable, a million years to degrade. Of course. They love a little irony. 

War is sitting across from them. Her red hair is short now, pushed up in the front into a little peak, and her face is a few years older. They can see the little flames licking up among her roots. It’s a good look on her so they say so. 

War smiles. “Surely you didn’t bring me here just to tell me I’m pretty?”

“How’s business?”

“Since-” War sighs. “I feel like the humans know something, but I can’t prove it. The internet is really working out for me, all these tiny communities that could be powerful if they united but that’s just so difficult for them.”

War balls up her straw wrapper and flicks it at Pollution’s head. They let it bounce away. “Would you care to discuss a joint venture?”

"I’d love to.” War smiles, voice low and sweet.

“I’d like to have your clever reporter by my side for a week of convincing American politicians that ocean fishing and fishing equipment regulations are strangling an economy somewhere and that mercury is good for you, actually. You’ll make me look legitimate and you’ll get a tariff out of it down the line. A gift for you and Famine.”

“Do I get a pretty dress?”

“The prettiest.” Pollution holds out their hand across the table, palm up. “Shall we?”

War places her hand in theirs. “Sounds like fun, let’s go.”

Outside, they go to Pollution’s truck and climb up into it. It’s parked illegally in a handicapped spot and on the way out of the plaza, Pollution coal rolls a hapless pedestrian just to get War’s smile.