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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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!?

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?

[ 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.

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.]

[ 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?

[Is it a problem? They weren't going to fight so... it should be okay, right?]

No, no problem. [Besides, this time Wolfwood won't be alone at the start.] Hey, you got any snacks in here? I'm starving. [If there is anything bad there, then at least they're facing it together like they should be.]

[ The whole planet is starving because the local version of Millions Knives stole all the plants, and this asshole thinks there's going to be snacks? Hope he likes somewhat stale bread, because that's what's on offer. ]

Here.

[ It's just a little loaf -- Wolfwood's got no idea what kind. Rem handed it to him and he stuck it in his jacket pocket and promptly forgot about it. Seems fitting that it goes to a version of her idiot kid though, huh? ]

That's all there is. Dunno if you noticed, but everything's pretty fucked right now.

[Vash knows food isn't easy to come by. Is that going to stop him from pouting at the bread Wolfwood hands him that he should be grateful for? Of course not.] This is it? You're not holding out on me, are you preacher man? [If course he wouldn't be sounding so snooty if he knew who the bread came from. Would probably be sobbing into it.]

[ If that's how it's gonna be, he'll snatch the loaf back! ]

I just saved your life and gave you all the food I've got, and you're whining about it? Give it back then!

[ That wasn't a request. He taking it back, asshole! Give! ]

[NO! His bread! Vash yanks the food away to the point he's going to be half out the window again.] No! You gave it to me! No take backs!

[ If he falls out that window Wolfwood is just going to leave him there, fair warning. Only one rescue per Vash, that's the rules. ]

Then I don't wanna hear any more complaining! All I want to hear is thank you so much Wolfwood for giving me the bread that the nice lady gave you, it sure is generous and kind-hearted of you, got it?

[ And if he doesn't get, it, maybe he'll get a helping hand going out that window! ]

Thank you, Wolfwood! [He starts while carefully getting back into the car.] For this remarkably kind and generous offer that you have bestowed upon an unworthy soul like mine!

[When it doesn't seem like Wolfwood is going to try to steal the food back he settles back into his seat.] A nice lady gave you this?

[ He's only going to steal it back if there continues to be complaining. If Stampede's gonna eat the food instead of whining about it, then no, he's not gonna touch it. He doesn't know if this Stampede has the same problems with food than the one he knows back home does -- he really hopes not. What good comes of starving yourself? -- so if he's actually going to put food in his stupid face, Wolfwood's sure not going to stop him. ]

Yeah. A real cutie. [ Sorry, asshole, but your mom's hot. And resourceful! Where the hell she found bread in this wasteland he doesn't know, but he's impressed as hell. ] So eat it with respect.

Really? [Vash takes a bite of the bread. It's tough, but he's had much worse.] Usually the cute ones are smart enough not to bother with a mess like you. [He teases while not believing that at all.]

[ The bread's only been in his pocket a day! It's not horribly stale yet, no. And there's even a jug of water on the floorboards by Stampede's feet... not that Wolfwood has offered any, but it's right there, if it's needed.

Stampede makes a crack about him being a mess, and Wolfwood doesn't mull over the decision one single second -- the idea occurs to him, and he rolls with it. ]

Maybe that's true for some other guy you knew. This guy got invited in for a homecooked meal and an offer to stay. [ He checks the rearview real quick -- still not being pursued. Good. ] She's a real looker, lemme tell you. Long hair, pretty face, everythin' where it should be. I'm thinkin' about going back that way, once I'm done droppin' your dumb ass off.

Oh yeah? [If only he knew Wolfwood was talking about his adoptive mother.] I'm surprised you didn't stay. Lecherous priest. Aren't you suppose to be married to the lord or something like that?

[ 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. ]

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?

[ 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?

Wolfwood, you've never looked like a priest to me except for that giant cross you insist on carrying around with you.

[He just sounds exasperated up and until the point that Wolfwood makes a crack about praying to him. It sends a bit of a shiver down his spine and his skin crawl. Unable to keep his mind off his time spent imprisoned by his brother and the Plant worshipers he saw then.] That's not funny. You try to start praying to me and I'm going to slap you across the face.

[ Wolfwood's mostly keeping his eyes on the road -- there's nothing ahead of them but more desert, flat and boring, but he doesn't want to run the risk of leaving the bedrock and hitting soft sand again. The way Wormbait says that's not funny, though, gets him to look over with a smirk. Hit a sore spot, did he? ]

You're not into the praise, huh? There's hymns and everything!

Ugh, if you start singing you can take me back to the sandworm. At least it will just eat me instead of torturing me to death.

[ Another snort, as Wolfwood turns his attention back to the road. As funny as it is to needle Wormbait here, there's a tiny thread of real anger underneath his teasing that's not going to let him drop the matter quite yet. A big chunk of his life has been centered around worshipping this asshole and his brother -- not this asshole, not this particular Vash, and it's not even Vash's fault, really, as far as he can tell, it's Millions goddamn Knives who likes to be prayed to, but still. It's still an old hurt, and Wolfwood's response to hurt will always be to hurt back, even in jest. ]

Oh c'mon, now you're just being contrary. I've got a fucking beautiful voice, see?

[ And then he's singing, full volume: ]

Oh ciiiiity of the aaaangels, beyond the jasper gaaaaates, for all these weary piiiilgriiiims, what rest and peace awaaaaits!

[ If he had to be brought up singing your praises, angel, then you get to hear about it! ]

OH NO! WHY GOD, WHY!? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS TORTURE!? [He shouts in an effort of be heard over the singing.] THIS IS SO MEAN! STOP! PLEASE! MERCY, MERCY, MERCY!

[ Ha! Wolfwood draws in a deep breath for the next verse, but the rest of that stupid hymn is all about the white angel coming and killing everyone -- phrased as joyfully as the church can manage, but that's still the message. Suddenly this whole joke is a lot less funny.

So instead, he just snorts, and smirks, and cracks his knuckles loud as gunshot. ]

You want mercy, call a priest.

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goldenglasses - 2023-07-14 04:36 (UTC) - Expand

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