May. 17th, 2012

fullofmercy: (way too cheerful to carry that cross)
There are a few things he knows he should take with him.

The Punisher, for one: not that he travels anywhere without the familiar weight of the cross on his back.  It's an old friend, and one he can't do without.

The Punisher isn't great for storing provisions, though, so he empties out his satchel into the saddlebags slung over the Angelina II's frame, and brings it back upstairs to the bar to fill his canteen and pack a few protein bars while he keeps an eye out for Ellen.  He doesn't see her, but there's a guy nearby wearing the same sort of body armor, looking like he's waiting for something.

Well, who isn't?

Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, he hefts the Punisher and wanders over, free hand stuck in his pocket, friendly smile on his face.

"You look like you're headed out for some business," he remarks, off-handedly.

When the Punisher's foot lands on the floor, it does so with a distinctly metallic, slightly muffled clank.
 


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Nicholas D. Wolfwood

June 2012

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