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. ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He'll find out eventually! Probably. ]

That's nuns, you moron. And I'm not a priest either. I'm an undertaker. [ And for the first time in his life this joke can be a funny one, instead of something gruesome and sad! ] I deal with bodies, not souls.

[ Like your mom's body, Wormbait. ]

[he grimaces a little-- oh why did he open his mouth...]

It uh, we were in a fight with one another. And he fired it off at me-- the first one I caught, but the other one I caught with my face.

With your face?!

[ So it was a real fight, then? Maybe like the one that happened between him and his world's Livio on the sand steamer?

Crap. Wolfwood regards Livio evenly, shaking his head. ]

You know, you can just tell me to shut the fuck up if I ask you somethin' you don't want to talk about.

Oh-- no, no I don't...I don't mind that much, if it'll help you out.

[he wants to help Wolfwood prevent this, if he can. can he?]

[ Help him out? He's just asking ~~because he cares about his little brother~~ to be nosy, that's all. Just to kill time while he gets the Punisher checked out. ]

I don't know how much help it'll be... although knowin' that you can take a rocket to the face makes me feel a lot better about our chances against the Eye!

[ That's the only fight he's worried about, the fight that's coming up here. Not anything back home... because they're never going back home, are they? ]

[he'd do anything if he can prevent Wolfwood's death. if he can prevent his other self that pain, Vash that pain.

his smile is tiny, and he rolls his eyes]

Yeah, I'm a regular glutton for punishment.

[ Wolfwood's grinning too -- if he was within arm's reach he'd sock Livio for that glutton comment! -- but Livio's words are worrisome. If he could survive getting shot in the face with a rocket, then a bullet to the head and a fall off a sand steamer wouldn't do any lasting damage at all, would it?

Fuck. Fuck. ]

Well I hope you're stocked up on your magical healing potions, pal, because I've got a whole feast planned.

[ His Livio could heal without drinking that shit -- they'd done something to him, and he healed right away, no matter how many times he was shot. Is this Livio the same way? ]

[that's what he's saying, Wolfwood! Livios are apparently made of tougher stuff. and that's not necessarily a good thing, if he ended up back with the EOM.]

Mmm, I'll be just fine. No need to worry about me, I'm always ready for a meal.

[ He really wanted it to not be true! He really wanted Livio free of the Eye, but wishing and hoping never did a damn thing, huh. ]

You don't need 'em, do you? The vials that I've got to use to heal up... you can heal without 'em, can't you?

What? [He turns and looks at Wolfwood. Eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out if this is some sort of trick.] Are you messing with me right now?

[If only it were that easy, to make him angry enough that he could simply write the man off as a lost cause, someone who didn't deserve love, someone he hated. But hating him would have been a hard thing even before. Vash didn't hate easily. He could be angry, rage, hurt, sometimes even want to lash out and hurt people back. But in the end, he always came back full circle to wanting to take care of people, even the ones who had hurt him, and to see the best in them.

And that was just the ones he hadn't lived side by side with on the road for as long as he had with Wolfwood. No. When it came to Nicholas, nothing he could say or do would make him hate the man, not even one that was different than the man he'd buried in December.

But...he deserved the distance, to have his inherent need for friendship with the man thrown back in his face. He hadn't given the man he cared about the proper respect and care when he'd had the chance. Maybe if he'd told him...maybe if he hadn't tried so hard not to let him become something so precious to him and had instead let him know how cherished he was when he'd been alive, he wouldn't have gone off on his own, thinking his struggles weren't important enough for Vash to want to help, and gotten himself killed.

The thought felt physically painful, like someone was carving his heart out of his chest with a spoon, and for a long time as they walked, he had to choke back the sounds of himself crying. He couldn't stop, no, but Wolfwood wouldn't want to hear his blubbering. It would just irritate him worse, and as much as Vash couldn't stop the voice in his head snarling that he deserved the rage that irritation would make him direct at him all over again, Wolfwood shouldn't have to deal with...this. All of him, all of his guilt.

Some time through the walk, he mindlessly pulled the little silver lighter out of his pocket, clutching onto it tightly in his fingers, his thumb rubbing over the grooves and ridges of the separation between the body and the lid. When his hand moved to press the side of his fingers against his mouth in an old anxious gesture he didn't even realize he was doing, it pressed the top corner of the lid against his lips instead. It wasn't a kiss to the thing, but it looked as close as it could be. Mostly, though, simply holding it helped to calm him as much as he could be calmed with those dark thoughts rolling through his mind, and after a while, the tears stopped needing to be choked back under hiccupped breaths.

They had been walking for a long time when he pulled it away from his mouth just long enough for his voice to finally call out again, soft and scratchy, curious and not unkind but neutral, just needing the information, not trying to reach out like he had been before.]

Where are you heading? [It made sense, after all, for him to know where he would need to take him. That way, he could make sure he didn't head in a wrong direction somewhere and land them in the wrong place before Wolfwood had noticed to tell him.]

Sometimes I do, when the damage is really bad. But usually I can heal just fine without.

[the wick of his life burns without that vile stuff]

[ They are vile, he's right about that. ]

That's what I thought.

[ And he's amazed by that, but also sad. It'll be useful in their fight! But damn, what did they do to Livio to make that happen? ]

The Livio I knew, I watched him get shot five, six times, and his body just healed it away like it was nothing.

[ Should he tell Livio now that he doesn't have any vials left? ...No, that conversation can wait. If he says anything, Livio might not want to go after the Eye with him, since he'll be a liability without his ability to heal. Better to keep it a secret for now. ]

Sorry, but I'm glad to hear it. I don't even know if the ones I've got would work on you.

[ That's the part he's got a problem with? His job? ]

Do I look like a priest?

[ He waves a hand at his throat. ]

Do you see a collar or vestments or anything like that?

[ The Eye might have named him a pastor, but there's nothing holy or sacred about the role. He's a killer, and there's no reason to pretend otherwise. ]

Did I start prayin' to you the second you turned up, angel?

[ A couple paces behind, Wolfwood sees -- and hears, somewhat -- the pathetic sobbing, but he grits his teeth and doesn't say a word. Maybe somebody else might find it nice, in a way, to know that they'll be mourned this much, but quite frankly Wolfwood finds it embarrassing. Just throw his body in a ditch and forget he ever existed, that's all that he deserves.

With the silence, Wolfwood's got time to think, though, so while Stampede sniffles about his dead friend, Wolfwood's mind is churning over plans for what to do next. There's no reason to assume they'll be able to go back to the worlds they came from -- sometimes powerful people come through and disrupt your life, and that's all there is to it. They're here now, for better or worse, so he's got to make the most of it. Miss Melanie and the kids probably aren't in December -- he's still going to head that way once he's got another car, because he has to see the place for himself, but given the state of the rest of the world, he'd be amazed to find them still there. They've evacuated, or they've died -- either way, they aren't going to be waiting around the orphanage. If he survives long enough he'll see if he can find them, or at least find out what happened to them. This isn't his world, but... but Miss Melanie is Miss Melanie, and whoever the kids under her care are, they're still kids. Maybe there's something he can do for them.

But first, he needs a gun. He needs a lot of guns, ideally, and plenty of ammo, but he can start with one. Not having any vials is another problem -- if he gets into a fire fight he's going to get killed -- but that just means he'll need to plan his attack carefully. If there was a Wolfwood here, then there was an Eye of Michael here. It feels right to go out removing them from the face of the planet. No matter what happens to this world, it'll be better off for having fewer of those plant-worshipping, child-murdering bastards in it.

He lets his thoughts drift a bit then, imagining increasingly cruel and painful ways he'd like to deal with select members of the Eye. When Stampede finally speaks, some time later, it takes Wolfwood a second to pull himself back from his violent fantasies. Where's he going? To the nearest town, aren't they? ...Ah, he realizes a second later, that's not what he meant. ]

December. [ The place where Wolfwoods go to die, apparently. ] And don't you dare start crying about that, you hear me? I'm just going to make sure those kids are okay.

Yeah, sounds about right.

[his mouth quirks sardonically. it be like that. he hates that the other Livio had to go through what he did, but at the same time...it did make him tougher]

It's alright, I'd rather you save them if you really need 'em.

[And Livio's ADAMANT he won't let that happen]

[ If Livio can take some damage without needing vials to heal, then he just became Wolfwood's best friend! Or best shield, either way.

Wow, it's really starting to get dark outside. Is that a dust storm rolling in? Guess they're holing up in here for awhile -- hope there's candles or lamps or something, because he's willing to bet there's no power. ]

Yeah.

[ None of these other little compartments have anything useful. Oh, there's a little thing of gun oil and a whole cleaning kit, some tools for making adjustments and repairs, that kind of thing, but he was really hoping for a couple vials. Guess he's got to ask. ]

...Sorry, but when you, y'know. Buried him. Did he have any more of that magic juice on him?

[yup it's decided, he will become the best meat shield he can ever be! Wolfwood is not going to come to any harm on Livio's watch. Pssst, he might be overcompensating...that's okay though, right?

Livio's expression

shatters at the question]

Oh. No....no, he used 'em all.

[ He knew it was going to be a hard question to hear, yeah. Sorry, Livio. Wolfwood looks away, giving Livio time to pull himself back together. If he needs more than a just a few seconds, then Wolfwood can focus on putting Punisher here back together -- he's seen everything he needs to see. ]

Yeah, I guess he would have, huh.

[ If it were anyone else sitting across from him, he'd want to ask more -- what happened? Who finally took him down? Did he hold his own, or was he outnumbered? Did he die well? Did he keep the kids safe?

He can't ask Livio any of that. Won't ask him any of that. He's seen the damage outside -- that's answer enough.

In the distance, toward December, the thunderstorm that the radio warned about is moving in. The wind is growing colder by the minute and the sky is darkening -- they really do need to go find some light, and quickly. ]

[the storm's rolling in somewhere out there. the wind is a little crazy, a lot ominous. but Livio can't stop picking the last image he had of his Wolfwood, bickering and covered in blood, in his last words to him 'welcome back'.]

I won't...ask you not to do the same. I'll do my best to help in any way I can. But...

[he doesn't want to see that again]

[ No -- he holds up a hand to stop that line of thought right there. ]

It's not gonna happen. You don't need to think about it any more, all right?

[ There, Punisher's compartments are all closed up, switches all disengaged, case all sealed. All that remains now is to wrap her up, but he'll do that later, when they're ready to leave -- he still really wants to rest out that rocket launcher first! ]

This is a whole new world we got ourselves stuck in, and all the rules are different now. Whoever killed him is long gone, and sorry, but I've got no intention of following in his footsteps.

[ Everyone told him not to come to December, but he doesn't believe in fate. And look! Here he is, alive and doing just fine, because there's no such thing as destiny. ]

Don't bury me before I'm dead, got it?

[it probably isn't fair to Wolfwood, this one, or his, to even think that. destiny isn't real, neither is fate. but he can't help but worry]

Yeah, okay. You're right. We got other shit to worry about anyway, right?

[his heart is in his throat]

That's right! Much more important, real issues, like where the hell I'm gonna find a pack of Sk--

[ He's interrupted by the rumble of distant thunder, sounding like... well, thunder, but for people who have never seen rain before, it sounds like cannon. Wolfwood's on his feet in an instant, running to the kitchen door, Punisher in hand and damn, doesn't it feel good to have two hundred pounds of machine gun again?

Outside it's dark, overcast and windy, and there's thunderheads on the horizon. ]

What the hell was that?!

[now that's something they can agree on. if they focus on this other stuff, they might never be able to move again. Livio won't, anyway.

the thunder makes him jump-- for a moment it sounds like what Vash had-- he shakes his head]

I wonder if we need to barricade this place.

[ He's not the only one jumping. It really sounds like artillery! ]

Yeah. [ He's already backing up into the building again, although he can't tear his eyes away from the oncoming storm. The dust storms out here get bad enough to rip flesh from bone, and he's never seen one that dark. ] ...Yeah, let's get inside, close up everything we can.

[ Even just closing all the doors and windows will be better than standing outside in the storm, but will that be enough? Do they have a choice? ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 6 of 21

Somewhere between July and December

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject