Nicholas D Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
louboutinjudas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nomans_land2023-06-08 09:07 am
louboutinjudas) wrote in nomans_land2023-06-08 09:07 am
Somewhere between July and December
1.
[ It wasn't the fastest car he'd ever driven, but it made better time than the old man's shitty station wagon had, and it was definitely faster than walking across the desert. None of the maps he'd found tucked under the seat had Hopeland on them, which was worrisome as all hell, but on one of the maps there was an orphanage marked, just off of a city called December.
The ghost he'd talked to on that mountaintop had told him he'd die in December, but that ghost had also ruined his last cigarette, so fuck that guy. If he died, he died, but first, he was going to make sure Miss Melanie and the kids were okay.
The sedan hums its way across the desert, kicking up a dust cloud that can be seen for miles. ]
2.
[ With a shudder and a hard jolt, the car comes screeching to a halt, the dash going dead as the engine seizes up. Wolfwood swears, punches the dash, then swears again when the solid dash nearly breaks his hand for his trouble. He'd managed to get the car hotwired, but apparently cars in this messed up version of Noman's were more different from the ones he knew than he'd realized. Is it out of oil? Out of charge? Not like he can do anything about it, whatever the problem.
Please ignore the man in black, standing next to a very dead car in the middle of absolute nowhere and screaming at the sky. It's therapeutic profanity, and it really is helping. ]
3.
[ Sunburned and exhausted, Wolfwood crests the hill and finally, there before him, sees the building that his map identifies as the December Orphanage. Even from a distance it's clear that the chaos that's affected the rest of the planet hit here, too -- there's clear bullet holes in at least one side of the building, walls that have collapsed, and the whole place seems as deserted as everywhere else he's been.
But he's here now, so he might as well have a look around.
He really wishes he still had his Punisher, though. ]
[ It wasn't the fastest car he'd ever driven, but it made better time than the old man's shitty station wagon had, and it was definitely faster than walking across the desert. None of the maps he'd found tucked under the seat had Hopeland on them, which was worrisome as all hell, but on one of the maps there was an orphanage marked, just off of a city called December.
The ghost he'd talked to on that mountaintop had told him he'd die in December, but that ghost had also ruined his last cigarette, so fuck that guy. If he died, he died, but first, he was going to make sure Miss Melanie and the kids were okay.
The sedan hums its way across the desert, kicking up a dust cloud that can be seen for miles. ]
2.
[ With a shudder and a hard jolt, the car comes screeching to a halt, the dash going dead as the engine seizes up. Wolfwood swears, punches the dash, then swears again when the solid dash nearly breaks his hand for his trouble. He'd managed to get the car hotwired, but apparently cars in this messed up version of Noman's were more different from the ones he knew than he'd realized. Is it out of oil? Out of charge? Not like he can do anything about it, whatever the problem.
Please ignore the man in black, standing next to a very dead car in the middle of absolute nowhere and screaming at the sky. It's therapeutic profanity, and it really is helping. ]
3.
[ Sunburned and exhausted, Wolfwood crests the hill and finally, there before him, sees the building that his map identifies as the December Orphanage. Even from a distance it's clear that the chaos that's affected the rest of the planet hit here, too -- there's clear bullet holes in at least one side of the building, walls that have collapsed, and the whole place seems as deserted as everywhere else he's been.
But he's here now, so he might as well have a look around.
He really wishes he still had his Punisher, though. ]
...2
But this isn't the orphanage, and it's not far off the road he was using to get to some other town, where he'd be paid well for a few nights of music. And he can spot a dead car not far off, and some angry shape near it. Ordinarily he wouldn't detour, but these days it sometimes paid off, with people popping in and out, so the musician's own sand scoured vehicle neatly turns off and heads in the direction of Wolfwood. His at least is in better shape, and well stocked in case of ... problems.
And it slows, noticeably, when he's finally close enough to see who that is raging at the luck of shitty vehicles in the middle of nowhere. ...Ah well, in for a penny..
The slow crawl draws to a stop, about ten paces to one side.]
Kind of far from civilization, aren't you?
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He's halfway expecting Vash to come strolling out of the heat waves on the horizon. Instead, he gets this guy. ]
Hornfreak. [ The way he says it makes the name just one more piece of profanity. Wolfwood squares up to the man as he drives up, one hand behind his back as though he's got a gun in his waistband there. Midvalley here has a car, Wolfwood thinks, his grin feral. Wonder what it'll take to get a ride? ] I heard you died in Julai.
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I heard you died a worm's death as a traitor.
[The sardonic tone to the saxophonist's voice is not matched by his expression, he looks terribly amused, and entirely at Wolfwood's expense. This is funny. Of course it also meant that the Stampede was likely to catch wind of it very soon, and then what would become of that pretty little grave in the ruins?]
Makes two of us I guess, but your memory or your geography is shit, it was Lewiston. Get in.
[Midvalley doesn't make moves that he thinks would put his own life on the line unless the other option is somehow worse, but he doesn't see exceptional risk here. Chapel was a killer like all of them, but wasn't exactly another Monev and wasn't about to just go around slaughtering people for funsies. Not even enemies, when the enemy was more useful alive. There's arguing with him of course, or some ridiculous effort at a hold-up, but he doesn't expect he will be, not when anything else would mean walking on foot in this godforsaken desert. He jerks a thumb backwards, expression leveling out. He still had places to be, and it sure as hell wasn't hanging around out here. He'd made his own choice, and it was as calculated as every other one he made.]
There's drinks in the back. Blue bottle's poison, anything else is at your own risk.
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Lewiston? That place is a dump, even for you.
[ He's probably not fooling anybody with that hand behind his back as he comes around to the passenger side of the car, but sometimes a bluff is the only option for the hand you're dealt. He'll keep up the pretense as long as he can, sliding that hand down by his leg as he opens the door and climbs into the passenger seat, but let's be real -- if Midvalley wanted him dead, all he had to have done was keep driving. ]
That better not be where we're headed.
[ Because now that he's in Midvalley's car, they're going where Midvalley wants, right? ]
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[Of course he has an ulterior motive and it's one hundred percent selfish, it just happens to also benefit Wolfwood a little too. The only mark at all that the potential of a gun is being minded is the way Midvalley is keeping an eye on his approach. It never hurts to be a little cautious.]
... Nah. I've got no desperate need to see if I was left an epitaph.
[He would get no epitaph, as he already knows. Their line of work left little room for true friends, or family of any kind. That someone lingered after Wolfwood died and seemed to actually care was a surprise enough, but plants were strange, and there was no knowing why Vash did what he did.
But he'll never be returning to Lewiston if he had a say in the matter. The beat up jalopy Wolfwood had been driving before is given one last mildly disgusted look for merely existing as a rusted out piece of crap before the car is put back in gear.]
Stampede claimed Legato and Knives are dead too. I think at this point it's a bad idea to declare anyone dead and gone, death's not sticking. It's just tempting fate at this point. [Knives was a terror, but Legato was a more personal horror he'd prefer dodging for the rest of eternity.] I'm headed to Warrens City, there's two stops on the way you can pick from.
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3 but i really thought about having nick hit him w/the car, it was tough...
until he saw the shape of a couch in the distance.
now he sits, knees in the sand, before the cross and waits for...he doesn't know what he's waiting for. Razlo, naturally, isn't happy to wait, is trying to stir him up to no avail.
he sees dust churning up from...a car? that's a car, that's--]
oh shit that would have been hilarious
Besides. This isn't the kind of bad news he wants to creep up on.
The building isn't the same as the Hopeland he knows, but it's close enough. Even as he's running for the front door he's taking in the details: large caliber bullets there, a rocket or grenade exploded against that wall, something big impacted over there and left a crater the size of a person... there was a fight here, and it was a bad one. A really bad one. ]
Anyone here?
[ He kicks the door open, squinting through the dust that raises into the darkness beyond. The damage isn't as bad in here, he's relieved to note. It's a mess, but it's stuff, books and blankets and toys scattered about, not shell casings. Not bodies. There's no blood, and that's both a relief and a source of an even deeper dread -- if there's no bodies here, then where did all the kids go? ]
Melanie!
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but he does weakly call out--]
Here. Someone-- I'm here!
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He doesn't reply -- he's not that stupid! -- instead padding quietly through the rest of the building toward the back, where the voice came from. This route takes him through the kitchen, and he takes an extra few seconds to help himself to the knife block -- the big cleaver goes in his hand, the long carving knife in the back of his waistband, and the little paring knife fits neatly into his pants pocket, for emergencies. Only then does he head for the door, peering out tentatively before emerging.
There's more rubble out there, more clear evidence of a fight, and there's the man who called out -- a huge guy, sitting next to...
Oh. That's a Punisher, isn't it? That's a grave with a Punisher as a headstone.
Maybe the ghost wasn't full of shit after all.
Keeping the knife down at his side, body angled to hide it from view, Wolfwood steps through the doorway, empty hand raised in cautious greeting. ]
I'm not lookin' for trouble.
[ His heart's pounding a mile a minute though. That's a grave. That's his grave, fuck, what the fuck does he do now?! ]
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...Nick? Nick...?
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nooooo i fucked up my small tags
its ok its ok!!
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well damn, look at me being the asshole and not responding. sorry!
hey don't worry, it happens! you're good
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2 Mwahaha
"Hellooo!" He lifted his arm in greeting before he was too close, plastering the friendliest smile he could on his face, and it wasn't long before he was close enough to finally get a look at the man standing on the other side of the broken down vehicle.
That was, of course, when he felt slow, dawning horror beginning to slide through his veins like ice water.
He swallowed down a lump in his throat, the smile on his face growing strained as he looked the man up and down. Things were...off. Different. Smaller frame, sloppier dress, younger, that ranting voice sounded just slightly off-pitch to the rumbling tenor of the man in his memories.
But as much as there was that was wrong, so much of it wasn't, and when he was close enough to lift his hand in greeting again and didn't have to shout to be heard, the hand not carrying the duffel bag over his shoulder was visibly shaking.
"Hey, friend. Car break down?"
The smile fell almost immediately after he was done speaking, his hand stuffing itself deep in his pocket, and there was a distinct feeling of the world shifting around him that he knew well. The world was twisting around him, his brain beginning to feel as if it were two inches to the left of his body, disconnected and floaty in a way that was usually a precursor to a shut down.
He fought through it for now, forcing himself to stay verbal, even though every word had to be forced out through a throat that was tightening around them. He couldn't...this wasn't...no. No. It wasn't Nicholas. Nicholas was dead. He was dead and gone and had been for months, now, and this was just a man who looked and spoke far too close to him for Vash's own comfort.
"I don't have fuel, if you're out of gas, but maybe I can help if it's a busted engine?"
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How many of this asshole are there on this damn planet?!
"You know what?" No greeting, no introductions, just a wave of his hand at the lightly steaming, very dead car behind him. What's the worst that he can do, break it more? Tell Wolfwood good things about himself? Try to hug him? Fucking try it, Red. "Knock yourself out."
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So he just shuffled over to the car, dropping his duffel bag in front of it as he popped the hood over the steaming engine. And...stared.
It wasn't like he was an engineer or a mechanic. He barely knew how to drive the things, let alone how to fix one. But he'd panicked, and now he stood there, staring into the dark void of an engine block that was sputtering and hissing steam at him, feeling more and more disconnected from his own body and trying not to lose his mind over someone he was mentally screaming couldn't possibly be who he thought he was.
But then everything had been so weird since the earthquakes happened. He'd met other versions of himself, ones that didn't quite look the same, either. People disappearing, time changing.
People coming back from the dead over a year after he'd buried them himself.
Before he knew what was happening, he was giving a high, hysterical-sounding laugh, tears rolling down his face, and he hadn't even touched the engine.
"I don't know what I expected, honestly, I've never even worked on a car before, sorry. I don't even drive, I usually just walk or get the bus between towns."
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Vash giggled like a madman, and started apologizing for not having the first clue how cars worked, and Wolfwood felt the rage starting to bloom under one eye. This one was messed up bad. He's seen plenty of what trauma can do to people, more and more often from the inflicting end, and he was pretty sure that whatever happened to this guy, he didn't want it as part of his future.
He was out of cigarettes, so chewing on his thumbnail was the best he can manage to sate that need to wreck something. "Then why'd you offer?" The dumbass could most likely be heard even without having to say it out loud.
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"I dunno, you needed help. I couldn't just leave you out here on your own, could I?" He took a moment to scrub his hand down his face before he shook his head and leaned down to reach for his duffel bag. He leaned it against the bumper of the car so that he could open it, digging out his canteen and a bit of dried toma meat wrapped in butcher paper and holding it out. "Least I have some supplies, right? Here. It's not good to go too long without eating."
And still, he couldn't look at him, his eyes cast down at a point in the distant desert behind him.
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LOL My brain won't settle for sleep until I tag to this! XD AUGH
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1.
Regardless of who's fault it was
it's Vash's own faultas Wolfwood is driving there is suddenly a large cloud of sand that rises just off to the side. So long as he keeps driving in the direction he's already going in he'll miss the sandworm. Surely that guy running and screaming just ahead of it clad in a long red coat with mostly blond hair styled up like a broom with a bit of black hair around the back of his neck will be okay, right?Right?]
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Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me!
[ He yanks the wheel around before he's even done cursing every iteration of Vash that was ever born, and a couple more that he makes up just so he can be mad at them. The car doesn't accelerate nearly as well as he'd like, tires slipping on the sand, but he's not just going to sit here and watch somebody get turned into worm food! If Stampede dies, Wolfwood gets to kill him -- he's fucking earned it.
The car rumbles across the sand on an intercept course, heading right for the blond moron. When he's close enough, Wolfwood leans his head out the window to shout at the top of his lungs: ]
Grab on, dumbass!
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He sees a dust cloud up ahead and... crap, is that another worm? No, that's... that's a car?! What kind of dumb ass would be--
--oh, it's Wolfwood! He can't currently remember a time he's been more thrilled to see the preacher man as he sprints towards the oncoming car. With a leap of his long legs he grabs onto the open window and quickly picks his feet up so they're not dragging.] DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE! [He screams while hanging on for dear life. He'll work on getting into the car in a moment or two.]
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What the hell are you doing out in the sand, you idiot!?
[ Even the bedrock of the road might not be enough to keep them safe from a hungry enough worm. Once those tires get traction on that stone, Wolfwood's flooring it, fishtailing the ass end of the car as he struggles to keep it pointed toward safety. ]
If I get eaten I'm gonna fucking kill you!
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Eye Intake, south of December
They still needed to get to July, to Rem and the kids, but since they were already on this side of the world, they might as well start their spring cleaning here.
His leg isn't going to heal any time soon, Wolfwood thinks angrily, adjusting the bandages strapping the splint to his thigh so that it'll hold his weight. The homemade walking cast looks like a mess, but how it looks doesn't matter. He's going to need to move on his own, once they arrive -- if either of the guys living in the body currently driving the car try to carry him again, he's going to break their leg.
It's possible that there won't be anyone in the facility, he knows, as the mountain range comes into view. The city was abandoned, so maybe the staff here left too -- there's only one way to find out. ]
Hike in, or drive up to the front door, what do you think?
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otherwise, Livio is going to be the meat shield of this mission.]
Hike in...might have to sneak. Think you can manage? On account of how flashy you are.
[he knows, by now. his mouth even quirks bemusedly]
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The facility's outside of town, near the base of that mountain range. From here, Wolfwood can just barely see it -- a square, white structure, made of the same pale stone that the rest of the cities seem to have been built out of. It could be an office building, or a manufacturing plant -- just a couple stories tall, and completely mundane. Livio's right -- driving in would raise too much dust, and they'd be visible to anyone who might be in that building. Waiting for nightfall and sneaking in along the base of the cliff there is their best bet.
It's gonna be a long walk. ]
Hey, it's not my fault I got all the good looks, brother.
[ At least they won't have long to wait -- the suns will be down soon. In the meantime, where to leave the car? He spots a likely place, and points -- how about back behind that pile of rocks, well off the road? He likes this car! He wants this car to be waiting for them when they're done! ]
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when Wolfwood points out the spot, Livio immediately parks 'er there, content to wait it out at least for a bit. nightfall shouldn't be too long, now, and any extra rest his companion can get, he'll need.]
You mean that stupid mug of yours? Wouldn't bet on it.
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Sitting and waiting for the suns to go down is boring as hell without a drink, or a cigarette. Wolfwood doesn't do well sitting still long -- the drive was already hard enough to endure! By the time they park he's twitching, his good leg bouncing, ready to go. Waiting is going to suck. ]
So how about you put your stupid mug to good use, huh? [ They could probably head out now, but it'll be safer to wait another hour. He settles back, getting comfortable for the wait. God he hates waiting. ] Tell me a story, whaddya say? Tell me somethin'. About you, about this world, whatever.
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