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

[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.]

[scoutsniper]

[He watches the other man, in silence. He can't quite catch what the guy says, but he can sense a kind of ritual when he sees one. And that was a ritual--and not a happy one. He has his own rituals, after all. Just...his are a bit more violent.

The guy is holding onto his flask, but shows no signs of drinking from it. And Frank has a thermos of coffee. ]

Got some coffee, if you want. [It's a small gesture, probably, but it's an attempt.]

[billyrocks]

[Slowly, Billy turns, the blinking of his eyes the only sign that he's surprised. Then he shrugs his shoulders.]

Sure, why the hell not.

[He could go for something with more bite to it right now, but coffee would suffice. He walks closer to the stranger, but doesn't reach for the thermos right away, as though waiting to see the other man drink from it first. The Wild West had taught him to be cautious, after all.]

[scoutsniper]

[He catches the wariness, shaking his head.]

I don't even know you. Figure the odds of me bringing up some poisoned coffee, just in case.

[billyrocks]

[Wordlessly, Billy shrugs his shoulders and puts the flask away beneath his vest so he can take the thermos. However, as his fingers lightly brush against the other man's during the exchange, a first-person view of one of Billy's memories appears (unbeknown to Billy).

It's a saloon and six other men are sitting at the table with him, laughing and joking with each other. The man closest to Billy leans over to whisper in his ear, "The owl followed me here."

"Nothing is following you, Goody," comes Billy's voice.

"I heard the voice."
"Goody..."
"I heard it."
"Goody."

The man Billy refers to as "Goody" sounds truly frightened as he continues, saying that if he were to pull the trigger in violence again he would die a ghastly death. Billy remains silent as he takes an opium cigarette and lights it up, taking a drag before passing it to Goody. "They are just dreams, Goody," says Billy.]

Old habits are hard to get rid of.

[The Billy-in-the-now says simply before taking a sip from the thermos. He doesn't bother with explaining that where he came from, just looking the way he did was enough to garner hostility. The coffee does its job of warming him up and giving his mind a little kick.]

Thanks. [He holds the thermos out for it to be taken back.] Not in the mood for sleep?