Running montage of Johnny Cash

[scoutsniper]

who: Frank Castle and YOU!
what: Getting to know the lay of the land here, and probably getting into trouble
when: October 15-20
where: Various points in the city
warnings: Pre-emptive warning for Frank's alpha male bullshit.



i MEMORY SHARE

[It's fast, but dark, a long hallway with off-green lighting, and it hurts to move--each step with the left foot sends a squishing stab of pain, knuckles already bruised and raw, but still aiming at bodies, running up.

A gun in the hand, aiming to kill, and then another flare of pain, the gun knocked out, hand against the wall, and then anger. Because they deserve it. For what they did to you, for what they did to your city. They hurt you, but that doesn't matter, you can hurt them back, and you can never hurt them enough.]

ii On the roof of the main housing building
[No one ever looks up. He learned that years ago, in the Marines. No one ever looks up. If you're above eye level, you're basically goddam invisible.

He wants to be invisible, right now, till he learns this place. It wasn't the first time he'd been dropped in the middle of foreign, hostile territory. He knew what to do--stay quiet, stay high, learn the place, day and night.

He's patient. He has a thermos of coffee, pouring himself a cup when he needs it, mostly just watching, moving from corner to corner to cover the whole view.]

iiiPerimeter Guard
[At least they gave him a job. Something he could do. He wasn't sure about working with a team--not again. Not after finding how deep Schoonover had gotten his hooks into the other Marines, men who, at one time, had been good men.

But it has a range, and that, at least, is something almost comforting, something he's good at. He'll start with the pistols, sending rounds down range with a speed that shows he's either really that damn good, or he 's working through some serious anger issues. Or both. Probably both.]

iv The Streets
[He does get to ground level from time to time, roaming the dark alleys at night. Because that's where bad people go, and that's who he hunts. So if he sees anyone, especially anyone looking shady, he'll confront them. ]

The hell are you doing here?

v Wildcard me!

Comments

ii

[potentialed]

[ He's not wrong. Being up high enough ensures a certain advantage on whomever or whatever you're watching. As Stephen knows from his flying excursions. Sometimes he does it during the sunset or early morning if he's not yet managed to fall asleep. But considering how his own dreams and memories have been lately, he's opting for a nightly fly around the quarantine to help with... all that mess.

Usually, when someone is on the roof, they are either wanting time to themselves, training, or star-gazing. So when he spots Frank doing what he's doing, Stephen stops and watches for a while himself. This man seems an observant sort so it's amusing he never looks up himself.

Eventually, Stephen decides to announce himself, calling down: ]

I hope that's coffee you're drinking and not booze. It wouldn't be a good idea to be drunk and up this high.

\o/

[scoutsniper]

[Someone beating him at his own game? Frank whirls, gun drawn, to find the target, er, the speaker. Who is floating. With a cape.

Frank's first thought is that someone must have laced his coffee and he's having some kind of goddamn hallucination. He's not convinced enough by that theory to lower the gun, though. ]

Not sure what business that is of yours.

[potentialed]

[ He holds his hands up in a placating manner to show he isn't armed but can already feel his fingers humming from the magical energy he's pushing into them. Just in case he has to conjure up a shield. He doesn't know this guy so it's better safe than sorry. Continues to float even as his cape lowers him to just above the rooftop. ]

I'm a doctor. People's safety is always my business.

iv

[umbrastaff]

Selling drugs, what does it look like?

[Sorry, you ran into the world's worst elf. (Or second worst, if you count her twin brother.)

Lup is out test-driving her new body by getting hammered, and was on her way home.

Not actually selling drugs. This time.]

Re: iv

[scoutsniper]

Looks like you sampled your own product.

[Yeah, he's seen actual drug deals. Not. Buying. It. ]

[umbrastaff]

Nah, dude. I'm just really drunk. This time.

[She's smart enough to not get fucked without supervision. Drinks was another thing.]

Do you usually skulk in alleys asking people what they're doing? It's kind of creepy.

iii.

[krasnaya_vdova]

[She hadn't actually shown up here for the gun range. But, she'd been in the area, and she knew Bucky and Steve would be getting off patrol soon, so she'd decided to swing by. But neither of them had been back yet, so instead of leaving, she'd decided to kill some time at the gun range.

Someone like Frank might recognize that the way she moves is almost eerily quiet and clearly the result of training on how to be little more than a whisper. Oversized green military surplus jacket, duffle bag slung over her shoulder. It used to be everything she owned, but now it's mostly pared down to the weapons and the tech. She's sort of vaguely late-teens or early-twenties, and the fact that she's petite tends to make people read her as younger, but her blue eyes speak of too much tragedy to be too young.

She watches him for a little while, not focusing on him for too long at once, trying to avoid that way people tend to feel when they're being watched.]

You're not bad.

[Her voice quiet, coming after he empties the clip.]

[scoutsniper]

[He registered someone entering the range, with a cursory look. Enough to get a quick impression, take in a few details, some things that didn't quite fit a girl who seemed so young. ]

Yeah. [No heat to it. He's not bad. He'll take it.

He slaps another mag in the pistol, holding it out to her. ] .

Now you. [Maybe, maybe, a hint of challenge, to put her money where her mouth was.]

[krasnaya_vdova]

[He takes the compliment, which is a good thing, in her book. The posturing isn't immediate, anyway. And the challenge is more subtle than anything.

She walks over, lets the duffle bag land at her feet, though she makes sure her foot catches the strap. But she takes the gun, holds it for a second, feeling the weight. It's nothing against him specifically, but she just doesn't trust strangers too easy.]

Alright.

[She takes aim at the paper and pulls, silent except for the sound of the casings and the sharp but satisfying sound of the squeeze of the trigger and the gunshot that follows. The grouping is tight, all but dead center mass -- except for her first shot which she puts dead between the eyes of the paper target.

She lifts an eyebrow slightly as she hands the gun back.]

Nice gun.

ii HOPE THIS IS OKAY

[fogwells]

[ The red suit had remained in a chest in his apartment, practically abandoned. The only time it had shifted from its new home was when the fire hit his floor. Jessica knew of his abilities and his "alternate life", so it remained tucked safely away in her closet until the repairs of his place had finished; then it returned. But in all that time, two corners in three months, the chest never opened.

Yet he craves something, and when he puts on all dark attire, with a simple black bandanna over his eyes in a choice that returns him to basics, he realizes he's faced a particular loss in not scouting the rooftops as he once did. It isn't quite the return to Daredevil, at least that's the excuse he offers himself. There isn't the high crime levels here that Hell's Kitchen is known for, but the mere act of playing an observer is enough to make himself feel useful without drifting too far into a role he isn't ready to return to.

But across the barren rooftops, he can pick up the faint scent of something familiar — thin gunpowder, just enough of it like the kind that creeps under your fingernails, almost impossible to scrub away. It could be anyone, really, but the distance of it is the same as a steady heartbeat he'd memorized during the hours he'd been chained to a chimney.

Impossible. Except it isn't. Not when this place was known for its surprises.

He gracefully scales the buildings, blending in with the darkness until he approaches his intended target. He almost remains quiet as he stands on the building's edge from behind him, but his voice escapes him before he intends it to. ]

Making yourself at home, Frank?

it's beautiful!

[scoutsniper]

[He almost twitches at the voice, behind him. His shoulders tighten--that's it.

But he knows that voice. He knows that voice. ]

This ain't home, Red.

[fogwells]

[ It's difficult to label how he feels in finding Frank here. There'd eventually been a certain level of understanding between them, though he'd hardly branch into the title of friends. Frank could still be heavy trouble if someone ever gave him the cause. ]

No, it isn't.

[ He doesn't shift from where he stands. Without the red, the black coats him into the darkness more than he's ever been. Still his voice remains clear. ]

But it's safer. [ He doesn't know how much of that is true. To an extent, it has been. ] No killers on the streets.

ii

[talentedscavenger]

[Rey thought tonight would be a good night to head up to the roof. If she could jot down the stars she saw, she maybe able to find out which star system they were in. She could compare her drawing to the other maps, assuming there were maps, in the library. It was a step in the right direction, and given everything that's been happening, she didn't want to fall asleep. She didn't want the chance of having one of her memories shared again...

But that didn't mean she'd be spared from visions as she learned a while ago. Either way, she wanted something to preoccupy her mind, and she was hoping being outside would do the trick.

Rey tried to be quiet as she made it to the roof with her staff on her back, notebook and pencil in hand. She didn't think there would be someone else there too.]

Re: ii

[scoutsniper]

[She was quiet, so Frank didn't hear her, at first, not until she got close to where he was, leaning against the corner, just on that edge of sleep and wakefulness. He doesn't want to sleep--his dreams here seemed...weird. Foreign. Not his.

He jerks fully awake as she gets too close, one hand diving in his jacket, and pulling it back out, when he sees who it is. A girl. Not a threat.

"The hell are you doing up here?" He doesn't like being taken off guard like this.

[talentedscavenger]

[The girl with her hair tied into three buns stepped back, her hand reaching out for her staff, ready for a fight. Who the hell comes up to the roof at this hour?! Besides her that is...

This...who was this?]

To star gaze. [Well, sort of. Considering she had a notepad and pencil, that wasn't entirely true.]

What are you doing here?

I

[dracolucmalfoy]

Draco is just staring. It is gloomy and dark and just... run down. He was reminded in a way of what the halls of his own school had become during the war. Then seeing the man so worn and beaten with his... what did muggles call it? A gun?

Draco crossed his arms, face closing off as he watched. Feeling the desperate emotions, but unknowing why they were there, or where they were aimed.

"Well, aren't you just a cheery fellow," Draco said under his breath.

ii

[billyrocks]

[Billy didn't think he'd find anyone else on the roof, so when he sees another figure, he blinks in surprise and pauses in his steps. He takes one step back only to step forward again. For once, he's not wearing his hat, allowing the silver pin in his hair to glint in the moonlight, and cradled in his hands was a black flask with a silver fleur-de-lis symbol in the center.]

Sorry, I didn't know there was someone up here. I'll be quick, though.

[In other words, Billy would not be turned away until he finished what he came here to do.]

Re: ii

[scoutsniper]

[Frank turns as the door opens, one hand under his jacket. Just in case. ]

Not my roof, man. Stay as long as you want.

[Big enough for the both of them? His hand stays there, waiting for the response. Friendly but wary. ]

[billyrocks]

[The way the other man has his hand in his coat doesn't go unnoticed by Billy. His own belt carries his pistol and array of knives, but Billy doesn't reach for anything, keeping his fingers curled around the flask.]

Thanks.

[He walks over to the section of the roof that faces north before carefully placing the flask down in front of him, taking care that it's in a safe position that won't allow it to fall over the edge. Billy bowed his head and put his hands flat against each other as though getting ready to pray. He didn't consider himself a religious man, but he wanted to do this for Goody. It's a cloudy memory, but Billy vaguely remembers his father doing the same thing when his grandfather died.

In a low, quiet voice, Billy repeats Goody's name three times.]

Goodnight Robicheaux...

[But with a name like Goodnight, it sounds more like he's talking to someone.

His back straightens when he's done, but he doesn't leave right away when he takes the flask back into his hands, choosing instead to look up and acknowledge the stars.]

IV

[ragnarsson]

[The teen, at first, looks more like the type to be a victim, stuck in a wheelchair like he is. But a second glance shows that his arms are well-muscled, there's a fierce look on his face, and he's got an axe strapped to his back. If anyone is going to cause trouble, it's going to be Ivar. The Viking looks fearless when Frank confronts him.]

Minding my own damn business. Why don't you try doing the same?

[The snarky voice sounds like he has a Northern European accent, close to being Norwegian in nature, but not quite. One hand edges towards the knife at his belt as he speaks.]

Re: IV

[scoutsniper]

[Axe and a wheelchair? Frank's going to file that under 'shit you don't see every day'. Or night. ]

Pretty interesting place to mind your business. [With. An axe. POINTED LOOK.]

[ragnarsson]

[He gets this look a lot from people. As usual, Ivar is also going to ignore it. You're not his dad and he does what he wants.]

You know, they have words for grown men who talk to sixteen year olds in dark alleys, and none of them are good.

[That is the smirk of someone who should be cuffed around the head often to keep him in line.]

IV. runs in late with starbucks

[shoplifter]

[The shadowy figure probably appears to be kneeling at first -- until closer inspection, when the figure is in fact leaning against the wall, hands in her pockets, chewing calmly on a big wad of bubblegum. It's a kid -- no older than ten or eleven -- and this kid looks completely unfazed by Frank's appearance. She watches him like a hawk as she pushes off the wall, standing in his general path.

Were you talkin' to me, dude? She itches under her nose, knuckles speckled with dry blood and pink jacket sleeve also lightly dirtied. But otherwise, she seems relatively taken care of, not at all the likes of a homeless runaway or whatnot. Maybe she should be polite. Linda the caseworker always tells her to try and be polite. Despite the thought, she's short with her words, a bit monotone.]

... Going for a walk.

\o/

[scoutsniper]

[Yeah, no kids should be out this late at night. Especially scruffy looking kids. Who don't do logic all that well.]

You weren't walking. [Is she trying to square off with him? She barely reaches his goddam elbow. ]

[shoplifter]

[....

She proceeds to walk in a circle, smacking on her gum all the while.

See? Walking. Going for a walk.]