Somewhere between July and December

[louboutinjudas]

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. ]

Comments

[graveresemblance]

[Livio has the decency to flinch at the thought of-- shooting himself in the head. being that desperate--

he's been there. but, hesitantly,]

Then he's still alive. I am.

[and then a little more boldly]

Let his Punisher stay here.

[louboutinjudas]

[ He is not leaving the Punisher here, sorry. He's going to examine it before pulling it out of the dirt, but he needs a weapon, and the dead guy doesn't. ]

You shoot yourself in the head a lot, pal? That sounds like something you want to talk to somebody about.

[ The grip looks fine, so let's see how heavy this thing is! ]

[graveresemblance]

Don't--

[Livio finally approaches, arm outstretched--]

I don't shoot myself-- but I know if that's all that happened, he's still alive. After what was done...

[louboutinjudas]

[ 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.

[graveresemblance]

[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.

[louboutinjudas]

[ 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!

[graveresemblance]

[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.

[louboutinjudas]

[ 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?

[graveresemblance]

[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.

[louboutinjudas]

[ 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.

[graveresemblance]

[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.

well damn, look at me being the asshole and not responding. sorry!

[louboutinjudas]

Then there's just one more thing.

[ He taps the base of the Punisher with his foot. Yeah, it's a memorial, yeah there's feelings attached and all that, but the man's dead. What's he need a gun for anymore? ]

I'm not gonna last five seconds, going up against the Eye with just a kitchen knife. I wanna take this.

[ Give him permission, Livio. He won't take it without permission. Probably. ]

hey don't worry, it happens! you're good

[graveresemblance]

[he bites his lip, glancing between the Punisher, and this Punisher. he's right...as strong as his body may be, he'll need a weapon.

but this feels like...Wolfwood could rest, now. shouldn't his signature weapon, too?

Livio sighs. then his eyes narrow]

...As long as you swear to bring it back.

[louboutinjudas]

[ Oh damn, he said yes? Wolfwood was honestly expecting to need to argue his case more! Hell yeah! ]

As soon as I'm done with it, it comes straight back here, you've got my word.

[ That means he can take it now, right? Nobody's gonna have any problem with him checking all the features? ...It's probably asking too much to hope that there's a vial or three tucked into one of those compartments, huh? ]

[graveresemblance]

[it tears him up inside. he knows Vash would be furious, would be so hurt, and Wolfwood-- may be a little territorial about his Punisher. maybe.]

Okay. But if it can help you, I'm okay with this...I'm the only one here, after all.

[louboutinjudas]

[ No, a Punisher is a personal fucking weapon. It weighs as much as a person, it's the size of a person... he misses the laser beam so much. It's a part of him, a part of his identity. He and his Punisher were quite literally made for each other, and taking the other Wolfwood's Punisher is a little like stripping the jacket off the corpse.

Wolfwood hooks his fingers into the skull grip and hoists the Punisher out of the dirt and up where he can get a good look at it. The weight's different, but the balance is still good, which is a bit of a surprise, honestly, given how much action it's seen lately. There's scratches and scorching and damage all over, and suddenly it occurs to him that a gun used for a final fight might not having much in the way of ammo left. He should check on that, open the whole thing up and see what shape it's in. ]

I'm gonna take her inside, clean her up. You're sticking around, right?

[graveresemblance]

[this is tough...this is hard. so many parts of him wants to tell Wolfwood to set it back down, to peace, to rest, with his Wolfwood...but he knows, this is better.

a nod. slumped shoulders]

Yeah, I am. C'mon, then.

[louboutinjudas]

[ He's still got that big stone! What's he need a gun as a grave marker for when somebody spent some time and effort and chipped a cross into that huge fucking slab of rock, huh?

Was that Livio who did that? Wolfwood can't think of anyone else who'd care enough about him to make sure his grave stayed put. He's buried plenty of people over the years -- and left plenty more to rot on the sand, if he's being honest -- and never once has he put up a stone for anybody. Only once has he wanted to. Livio should have had a stone like this, he thinks, resting Punisher on his shoulder and heading back into the orphanage. Something neat and plain, but nice, that the little kids would have ended up drawing on. It's right in the heart of the place, isn't it?

Not a bad spot, really. It's not a bad place to rest at all. ]

You two grew up here, right?

[ There's nobody around to make big stupid eyes at him for being a softie, so fuck it. Maybe talking about the dead guy would help Livio here get over his feelings about Wolfwood busting up his friend's grave? ]

With Miss Melanie and a pile of snot-nosed kids?

[ The wind is picking up, so Wolfwood hustles his ass inside. No reason to get sandblasted when there's shelter available, right? ]

[graveresemblance]

[he should clean his own guns, make sure he's ready. but all he can do is watch Wolfwood fiddle with the Punisher once they get in there, watch his shoulders retreat]

Yeah, with Miss Melanie and all the kids for awhile. Not all that long before I left...but yeah.

[louboutinjudas]

[ It's not a bad idea to keep an eye on Wolfwood as he removes the wrappings and sets to work examining the Punisher on the kitchen floor. It's different than the one he's familiar with, and if he hits the wrong switch by accident they both need to be ready to run!

He glances up at Livio over the top of his glasses at that comment, and shrugs sympathetically. ]

The Livio I know, he was pretty little too when the Eye came for him. [ Although that's not quite how it played out, is it? ] When he volunteered to go with them, I mean.

[ Stupid kid. ]

[graveresemblance]

[having been on the receiving end of that rocket launcher...he's not keen on repeating that.]

I was maybe...10 or 11 when we found 'em. Or they found us, I guess. Yeah.

[they were stupid, but he knows, too, that Razlo wanted to protect them]

[louboutinjudas]

Yeah, that sounds about right.

[ Very few of the kids he'd known back then -- himself included -- had a real solid idea about how old they were. It didn't really matter, in the end -- you did the work you were big enough to do, and if birthdays were important then you picked a day and that was that!

Wolfwood's fingers pause on a particularly nasty bit of damage on the case of the Punisher -- a spray of scorch marks that looks like the go into the body of the gun, which shouldn't have been possible unless the facing had been removed on that part. ]

It was too damn young.

[ Sure, he hadn't been much older, but there's a world of difference between a kid about to hit their teenage growth spurt, and a little brat who can barely even tie their own shoes. ]

[graveresemblance]

It was...

[they all were, and he and Nicholas probably weren't even the youngest taken...or possibly made, there. there's just so much he doesn't know, that they'll find out on this crusade]

But I don't know how my life would've gone, still.

[louboutinjudas]

[ Aha! The part with the scorch marks does come off, and that seems to be where the belt of ammunition for a large caliber gun was stored. Still is stored, amazingly enough -- it looks like the ammo was set off inside the Punisher, but at least some survived, and the mechanisms for feeding it through look like they're still in working order.

What the hell kind of fight was this? He can't help but be impressed. ]

Sorry, I can't read the future. But it really doesn't matter, does it? No matter what we were, where we ended up, we wouldn't have been there.

[ There's dried blood inside the casing. It's smeared a bit, not like somebody's bloody hand wiped over it, but like somebody tried to clean it out and didn't get it all. Like somebody tried to make the Punisher look as good as possible, before they wrapped it back up and stuck it at the head of that grave out there.

Wolfwood swallows hard, and turns to another compartment. This is feeling more and more like a dissection all the time. ]

We wouldn't be here, now.

[graveresemblance]

[here's someone who also feels like he's being dissected, without even any effort. and he'd done it all himself, opening his big mouth.

he keeps his eyes off the Punisher.]

So fuck fate, basically.