nomans_land | Somewhere between July and December

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. ]

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I SWEAR IT USE TO BE BEDROCK! [Vash screams out as he hauls himself into the car through the window. He ends up with his face down at the floor with his long legs still partly sticking out the window. With his face down there he can't exactly see what is happening.] Drive faster and you don't have to kill me for getting you eaten! Please tell me you didn't buy an obvious lemon again!

[ He's gonna take the Punisher, sorry! ...Or he was, until Livio starts talking about the Eye. He turns on Livio, snapping mad, because anger will always be a better choice than grief. ]

I don't want to fuckin' hear it! [ I don't want to think about it! ] All the things they did to him, to us, it still didn't make us immortal!

[ He kicks the gravestone at his feet. ]

Exhibit A, this dead guy right here.

Let him go? Wolfwood's about to cut that train of thought short, because no, the Eye doesn't let people go. Once they take you in, they own you until you're dead, and sometimes for awhile after that. He was just too much of a mess to send out on a contract right after Julai, and with both Knives and Conrad gone, what remained of the Priesthood was too busy trying to figure out what to do next to worry too much about one of their puppets. They took his guns, assigned him a tail, and let him head out into the world to drink himself into a stupor, with the understanding that, at some point, he'd be called back. There is no 'out'. They own him, forever.

But the crybaby looks so ridiculously happy at the idea that he's not working for those bastards anymore, so Wolfwood just shrugs and lets him think what he likes.

"Yeah, I've heard that pacifist shit before," he grumbles, dismissing yet another Vash's foolishness about fighting with a wave of his hand. "I don't care if you kill 'em or not, as long as they don't kill me, got it?"

Now. Which way to the nearest town?

If you've got a problem with the car you're welcome to get the fuck out!

[ If the car went faster he'd be driving faster! As it is they're gaining distance between then and the worm, at least from what Wolfwood can see in brief glances at the side mirrors. Roads -- at least, the kind of roads that last more than a season -- tended to be on good firm rock, and wide enough for caravans. Worms could break their way through rock, if they were big enough and hungry enough, but thankfully this one doesn't seem interested in getting banged up just for a bite and a half of idiot.

Still. He's not taking his foot of the accelerator until that worm is well past the horizon line. ]

Another goddamn Stampede. Where are you all coming from!?

He gave a little laugh, turning his big, goofy smile over at him even as he snarked and snarled and groused about his pacifistic habits, and he gave a playful little salute, chirping out a bright "Sir, yes Sir!" before settling back into a calm, easy stride toward the next town. More thank likely, it was still going to be empty, waiting for its Plant and its citizens to return, but at the very least, it would hopefully have supplies they could loot from the local general store, or something similar.

It was after a few cheerfully-quiet minutes that, if Wolfwood were looking at him, he would see a thought cross his mind, the smile fading just a little before he glanced at him out of the corner or his eyes.

"So. If there's no contract...I guess you don't have your meds anymore, do you...?"

Asked nonchalantly, but inside, the question was accompanied by a ball of conflicting emotions. They kept him alive. But at the same time, he didn't want to see him overdose on them all over again. He'd just have to be more diligent about keeping him safe, for as long as he wanted to put up with him as a traveling partner.

Not at first. Can't imagine they showed up with a colony ship.

[But a few? Maybe bargains could be made and those few could shake the dust of this planet off their feet forever. Anywhere else would do over this miserable place. If it meant giving up being an assassin, well, that's a small price to pay.]

But I can't imagine they'll put up with genocide either. Plants came from Earth, they have to have a way to put a lid on all this. I'm not keen on relying on some government at all, never mind one from some other planet but what we're doing isn't working, so time to try something new.

[If the Terrans could contend with Knives, the people of No Man's Land could contend with the rest, the rest at least were fellow humans. A more even playing field than true monsters.]

..When things settle down a bit, I'm going to give it a shot. Not much else to lose.

[There's an invitation there, albeit unspoken. Wolfwood was one of the very rare Gung Ho Guns that wasn't an intolerable sociopath.]

It was a quiet couple of minutes, the silence broken only by the crunch of their shoes against the gravel and the occasional little pop of teeth as Wolfwood worried at his fingernail. He'd never really given a lot of consideration to his need for something to chew on before, blaming it on the rush of cigarettes, the childish sweet treat of suckers... but here, without anything else to sate his craving other than his own nails, he's having to accept the fact that he's got a problem. There better be toothpicks in this town, is all he can say, or something else that he can get his frustrations out on. Because without something to chew on, he needs something to fight, and the only something around right now is a weepy sunovabitch who'd probably just cry if he got punched. And where's the fun in that?

Annoyed, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, and started hunting for good rocks to kick on the path. He'd just spotted a great one a few steps ahead when the sad sack next to him decided it had been quiet for too long. ]

My meds? [ Medication made you better, which Wolfwood supposed the vials did, but that shit wasn't medicine. It was a goddamn curse, it was it was. ] No, I'm out here pretending to be human for a bit, don't tell anyone.

[ There's that rock! He gave it a good kick, and squinted with satisfaction as it flew too far for him to track. ]

I mean it. Don't say a thing to anyone, got it?

[instead of reacting with his own anger, its frustration, and defense--]

It damn near did, Nico. [his throat burns] He died because-- because of me. But they did different stuff to me than him. Or you.

[ That's all right. Wolfwood has enough anger for both of them. ]

I know that! [ He can't stop his gaze from flicking to the metal cap over Livio's ear, the lines on his face... can't help thinking about the glow behind his Livio's eye, and imagining all the electronics they must have stuffed inside his brain. Only with Livio would his anger sound so much like grief -- only Livio, only somebody who understands, gets to see just how much sorrow and regret he has over what was done to that sweet little kid. ] Don't you think I know that? What they did to him... to you...

[ Fuck. He can't hold still, has to move, to pace, one hand tangled so tightly in his own hair that he's going to rip himself a bald spot if he's not careful. ]

But if he's dead then that's over, so everybody needs to stop saying he's still alive!

[The constant champing at his nails did not go unnoticed, and Vash wondered dimly if this one didn't smoke, or if he just didn't have any smokes on hand. He might have had Nick's lighter safely tucked in his pocket, but he had never made the leap to smoking himself, though there were times when the scent of someone doing it when he was walking through towns would hit him and it was like a punch in the gut. If he had, he would have offered them to him.

Maybe when they got to town, he could find him some. He could just...toss them away, if it turned out that those were one of the differences between the two.

The answer made him look over in mild surprise, though more at the emotion behind it and the insistence that he not tell anyone about it than anything else. He shook his head quickly, his eyes flicking to watch that rock fly off into the distance absentmindedly before refocusing on him.]

No, no, of course not! I wouldn't, not a peep, I promise.

[Any relief he might have felt over the thought that he couldn't get himself killed that way was tempered with the concern for his continued safety, and by the specific words he'd said, "pretending to be human," as if he weren't. And it wasn't as if he didn't already know about Wolfwood's own demons, how much he hated himself. The memory of how deeply his self-hatred had run all the way until his death still haunted Vash. He hated it, knowing that Nicholas felt so poorly of himself, that those same bitter thoughts he thought about himself seemed to be shared by one of the kindest, most caring humans he'd ever met, regardless of the awful things he'd been forced to do.

But he worried that any reassurances he might have offered would be sorely unappreciated. This Wolfwood reminded him a little too much of the man he'd been when they'd first been traveling, when he was still surly and grouchy more often than he was friendly and companionable.

And as much as it hurt, to be walking with him, talking to him, his mind wanting to slot him firmly into the gaps the other man had left when he died, he knew that it wasn't fair to the man who was still alive, to expect him to just be the same. He wasn't. So Vash really, probably, should just hold his tongue a bit, and let the silence linger between them, for both of their sakes.

Still...]

...For what it's worth, I think you're one of the better humans around.

[The little smile he gave him probably said exactly how well he expected the words to be received, but he needed to say them, anyway. Sorry, Wolfwood. He can't not be a dumb, affectionate sap at you.]

[he wants to think maybe they can rest-- all of them, this Nicholas too...but he doesn't think so. Master Chapel would never let him die so easily.

so slowly, slowly, gently-- he saddles up to Wolfwood, and gently takes his wrist away from his head]

Hey. You'll figure it out. If he isn't...or is.

Problem with the car?! HAHAHAHA! Who me?! No I don't-- [There is a loud bang as he slams his head on the dashboard while trying to right himself in the seat.] OWW! Ieieieie. Did I say problem? This is a wonderful car.

[Somehow he gets his lanky legs inside the car and sitting upright in the seat. Gasping for breath.] Oh, you know... Octovern?

[ Anyone else would get socked in the teeth for touching him right now. But this close, Wolfwood can't help but compare this Livio's bulk to the little brat he knew, and his mind is filling in all kinds of gaps about how somebody that small could be made this big. ]

I'm gonna kill 'em all.

[ If there's a Livio here, if there was a Wolfwood here, then there's an Eye here. This Stampede hasn't been betrayed yet, the kids aren't at the orphanage, so what's he got left other than revenge?

The grin he turns on Livio is positively feral. ]

Wanna help me hunt down a cult?

[ That was an invitation, wasn't it? It's tempted to accept it -- after all, what's holding him here? The orphanage might be in December, but given how abandoned everything else is, he's not holding his breath. Livio's dead. Stampede isn't his responsibility, and what's that leave? Just him.

Him, and the Eye. ]

Hey, you get a chance to get on one of those ships and get the hell out of here, you take it and don't look back.

[ Now seems like a prime time to grab that pack of smokes off the floorboards... and look at that. This car's even got a cigarette lighter with the coil still in the slot. Will wonders never cease? ]

Maybe I'll make it out to Earth one day myself.

[ If it came up, Wolfwood would be happy to argue all day long about how he wasn't really human anymore, and hadn't been for a long time. The human Nicholas had died on that operating table, and it was the monster Wolfwood who had taken his place. But what's the point in discussing shit like that? It won't change anything. Bad things happened in life and you either got over it and kept going, or you didn't and you died. That's just how the world worked. Wolfwood might not be human anymore, but he was a survivor, and part of surviving in Noman's was pushing all that bad shit down as far as you could into the back of your mind and trying really hard to forget about it.

And on the other hand, there were the Stampedes, who seemed to take actual pleasure in rolling around in other peoples' business. The comment about being a better human earns a snort and a side eye. ]

You've known me five minutes. Don't say things like that.

[ Every Stampede he's met so far has looked at him and seen another man. It's getting tiring. ]

Whoever you're thinkin' of, I'm not him.

[ Is the worm finally done chasing them? Wolfwood can't see any sign of it in the mirror, and they've been on sturdy bedrock for awhile now. He risks slowing just enough that he can turn and take a good look behind and around the car: there's nothing but sand, and sky, and distant cliffs. No worm.

Good. He slows the car to a normal driving speed, which is still fast as hell, but without that worrying whine coming from the engine. ]

All right, Wormbait, this car's going to December. I'll drop you off on the way or you can get out now, your choice.

[oh...they can do that, can't they? they can get rid of the Eye. Livio hadn't decided to do anything other than help the kids, hadn't thought of anything after that.]

I...yeah. Yeah, I think I do.

[ Hell yes. If this Livio was half the fighter he appeared to be, then together they could really do some damage. ]

Good.

[ He didn't have any vials, sure, but to hell with it, he'd make it work. He'd get faster, that's all. Whatever he needs to do, to make sure every single one of those bastards gets what's coming to them. ]

So you're familiar with this version of how th'world works? [ The one with, ah, dead guy at their feet? ] Where everything is? Do you know where the training facility is? [ Conrad's lab, and the attached range. Where Chapel preferred to hold office. Where most of the kids died. ] I say we start there.

[he does know where the labs are, the few training facilities are....there were a couple other ones Chapel brought him, but that might be a more Chapel-thing. That's fun to think of.]

Most things are the same...but a couple are different. I'll follow your lead.

[Yeah, that had gone over about as well as he'd expected, though not as violently as it could have. Which mostly made him give a small laugh and an apologetic shrug.]

Alright, fair, I'll give you that. For one, you're a bit smaller, maybe...younger? Though I'm not exactly the best judge of that myself. You look like you dress more for comfort than he did, your voice is a bit different. A little more clean-shaven. [And you're alive.] But I've always been a pretty good judge of character. Let's see. Five minutes, what can I tell about you?

[Oh, he was just poking the wam's nest now, wasn't he? But...to be honest, he'd missed this. Teasing Nick had always been hilarious fun, even when it came with the risk of getting clocked upside the head by a right hook for his trouble. The fact that the blows had never been more than an annoyance, when he knew he could have done real, legitimate damage even to Vash, just proved that Wolfwood had gotten as much amusement out of their little pointless squabbles as he did, even when he was pretending otherwise. If he'd really been angry, he would have made it known very easily.

He turned to walk backwards, looking him up and down appraisingly, making a little show of it by reaching up with his free hand and pinching his chin contemplatively.]

You get frustrated when you're not in control of a situation. You don't like being indebted to other people, and you don't like letting people get too close. People can't be trusted, they'll end up stabbing you in the back or hurting you, maybe even get you killed if they're dangerous enough. Life on No Man's Land is hard, and you like to stay one step ahead of whatevermight get you killed, and you don't have time for nonsense, you'll make the hard decisions without question that other people find appalling because that's how you survive. And the way you see it, people who are too soft are just asking to get themselves killed, and it'll be their own fault when it happens. You...have a nervous tick? [He wiggled his fingers at him, giving him a knowing little smile.] Maybe you smoke, but you're out of cigarettes? And if I don't shut my damn idiot mouth, you're probably about ten seconds away from slapping the taste right out of it so I will.

[He turned back to walk forwards again, and his voice dropped, softer and sadder and so fond, but...well, he certainly didn't stop talking, even though there was a voice inside of his head screaming at him to just shut up, stop it, you're going to get the both of you hurt, this was just asking for trouble, this isn't right, just stop!]

Meanwhile, the Nicholas I knew...grew up in an orphanage, but was taken when he was very young and made to do things that he hated himself for his entire life. He could be gruff and mean and irritable, but...he was kind, he worried about people more than he let on, and once he got close to someone, he...he would do anything he could to keep them safe. He loved the people at the orphanage he grew up in like a family, and all he ever wanted was to be happy, but...he didn't think he was allowed to, because of what he'd been forced to do, and he worried that if the people he loved ever found out, they would hate him for it. So he kept his distance for as long as he could, even though it meant he was hurting himself in the process.

But he was also very loved. He touched the lives of everyone around him, more than he will ever know.

[And...he had gone back around to making himself sad again. Realizing he'd probably overstepped a very large number of boundaries. He was quiet again, the smile on his face disappearing.]

Sorry. I...I just miss him a lot. It's...talking to you is...weird, part of me does want to just...fall back into the same old habits, as if he's back. But that's not fair to you. I dunno how well you know me, where you're from, or...what he's like, but I tend to feel things a little too strongly, sometimes. I'll try to rein it back.

Edited 2023-06-16 12:26 (UTC)

[ And there it was, just like he said. Who the fuck hears you don't know me and goes off for two solids minutes listing everything they think they know? That was his cue to shut the hell up, not start flapping his damn jaw about shit he has no right to be saying!

And no, that he's right about most of it doesn't fucking matter! It doesn't matter one bit, it's the damn principle of the thing! Loverboy here is still stuck on the Wolfwood he knew, which means everything he thinks he knows about this Wolfwood? Is all just... what's the word. Projection. ]

Yeah, you do that. [ Rein it in, that is. Keep your damn mouth shut. ] Like I said, that's not me.

[ Just like this Vash isn't anything like the Vash he knew, back in his world, and he isn't anything like that other Vash that he met at Rem's place. There's similarities, that's all – the need to meddle, the pacifism, the way they can't fucking stop talking.

Does this one starve himself too? The thought pops unbidden into Wolfwood's head, and then he can't stop thinking about it. About what it must be like to feel that strongly about letting people get hurt, and then having to watch it happen, over and over.

God dammit, he is not feeling bad for this asshole! ]

And he's not you, but the Stampede I know, I think he feels things too much, too, sometimes. You'd think livin' that long would toughen him up, but...

Well, actually, I was on my way to December too. [Does he know? Should he be stopping this? Has things already been changed enough that Wolfwood is safe returning there.] There was... someone I was hoping to see there.

I'm assuming you're on your way back to the orphanage? [Even if he wasn't heading to December before this, he was now. Maybe he could be there to change things just in case it was to play out like the other him had warned him about.]

[He nodded quietly at Wolfwood's rebuke, resigning himself to a long walk in silence. It really was better that way, after all. Even if this Wolfwood was as close to the one he knew as he thought he might be, it would only cause him more trouble, for Vash to let himself give in to the instinct to try and latch onto him in Nick's absence, and it would just make Vash hurt more in the long run.

But then, after a few quiet minutes of walking, Wolfwood was speaking up on his own, and Vash glanced at him, listening, settling into a thoughtful silence for a few minutes after. The thought...hurt, honestly.]

Maybe...maybe it would be easier, in some ways. But...toughening up would mean forcing myself not to care as much about the people around me. I can't help it. Everyone I meet is special, everyone deserves to be happy. I love seeing them thrive, I love listening to the things that make them happy, or watching the children play. And it makes me sad, to watch them go. Every single person has a story, everybody has dreams and joys and hopes, they have people who love them and look up to them or want to take care of them, and it's sad, to watch them go. Even when they get old. I hate having to let them go.

[Yes, even the ones who did horrible things had people who loved them, and if they'd just been in a better place, maybe they wouldn't have had to do those horrible things. When they're gone, they can't be better, and their loss hurts the people who cared about them, and it just causes a ripple effect of pain and sadness. Not feeling the weight of that was something he hoped he never learned to do. The thought of not caring about people was...stifling. Choking.]

[ Oh god dammit does every single person on this planet think that he's going to die in December? If this keeps up he's really not going to be responsible for his actions! ]

Yeah. I'm goin' to the orphanage there. Is that a problem?

[ What a soft-hearted, rose-colored world Stampede lives in. It's hard to believe, sometimes, that he and Millions Knives are brothers. One of them wants every single person to be happy and dance around all day singing songs, and the other literally tortures children and makes them into killers.

Some days, Wolfwood really does think the world would be better of neither of the twins was around anymore. ]

Not everybody deserves to be happy. [ He kicks another rock, watches it skitter off sideways from the path he'd planned for it. Damn. ] There's good people out there, I guess, although most of 'em don't give a shit about anyone but themselves. But some folks, all they deserve is a bullet in the head and a shallow grave, as payment for everyone they've hurt.

[ He doesn't expect Stampede to agree. He knows the guy, in any version, well enough by now to know that he can't hear the truth -- for the good of the rest of the world, some people just need to die. But he's also not going to walk along and pretend like Stampede's bullshit worldview is anything but bullshit. ]

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Page 3 of 21

Somewhere between July and December

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