Nicholas D. Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fullofmercy) wrote2007-01-06 02:53 pm
fullofmercy) wrote2007-01-06 02:53 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
TOUCH SCREEN TO START YOUR AVAILABLE DESTINATIONS
It made Wolfwood feel kind of foolish when he'd discovered this place, knowing that this stupid room has been just sitting here and and he just hadn't really noticed. He must have gone over every inch of this hotel in that time, but he missed this?
Not like it matters, anyway. He'd been having too much fun at the time to leave right away.
WOLFWOOD, NICHOLAS D., YOUR DESTINATIONS ARE
1. GUNSMOKE MEI CITY 9.17.26
His hand hovers over the screen.
Maybe he hadn't missed it. Maybe he just had been too damn happy to take a break from the sun and the sand. There are no orders here and no shootouts. No annoying legendary gunman with $$60,000,000,000 on his head. Instead, there's trees and grass and a city that isn't falling slowly to pieces--but that doesn't change the facts, and the fact is that he's been here too long. Not to mention he's curious as to what's going on back at home. His stomach growls audibly and he pats it. "Okay, okay. Food first, information later. You're the boss."
The walk out of here is a lot shorter than the one in--or at least it feels that way and he's got only a few seconds of cool air that tastes like metal before the door opens before his hand and he's got to squint to block out the suns. High noon and it feels like a million degrees; he can't even look straight until the dark glasses are safely over his eyes.
The horizon stretches: long, flat, shimmering, empty. The people who pass by wear clothing as colorless as the buildings are, brown and gray and tan, stumping up out of the sand and the hard dirt road like they were piled there by the wind, just a few more lumps of dune. The only thing with color in it is the sky, and that's as brassy and blue and mercilessly clear as ever.
Hey, it turns out that absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. Still, there's something good about being back here, and the rumble from his stomach that accompanies that thought reinforces it. Time for some grub.
Unfortunately for him, it seems as though no one told the restuarant owners that they needed to have some food out...and the others weren't so keen on his staying after they'd seen the contents of his pockets. So woolongs don't actually get you anything here, what the hell happened to giving out of the goodness of your heart?
So much for charity.
There's another place, near the center of town, and he ambles towards it as some kids run by, playing and kicking up dust that turns orange and red in the setting sun, and at first he thinks that the shouts and squeals that he hears are coming from them. It's the scream that really catches his attention.
"What're you doing to my mom?!?"
It's dark and bare inside the little restaurant, and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust from the sunshine outside, but what's there is easy enough to see: two large men, one little kid tugging at an arm and kicking at a leg, and--oh, man--the most beautiful woman in the world being held between them, pleading. "Please," she begs, "please, I'll pay you the money, just wait a little longer!"
It's enough to melt a heart of stone, which is apparently not what these two have. "Lady," one of them says, annoyed, "you're long past your deadline. Unless you pay off your debt in full, we can't make any money, either."
The other one, finding this funny, laughs, and nudges the woman in the ribs with his elbow.
"Hey," says Wolfwood, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his jacket pocket (don't want them to get scratched, right?), "is this place open, or what?" He can practically see the poor woman trembling from here. It's hard to keep his voice even.
"Beat it," says the thinner of the two thugs, gripping her wrist even harder. "This is none of your business, preacher man."
"Oh, now," Wolfwood tells him, over the clank of the Punisher's foot hitting the floor, "that's just not true. After all, the Good Lord says that charity shall cover the multitude of sins, and I just happen to be an expert on that sort of thing. You've really got to embrace the spirit of giving; here, let me show you."
He gives. He's a generous soul, in that way.
It made Wolfwood feel kind of foolish when he'd discovered this place, knowing that this stupid room has been just sitting here and and he just hadn't really noticed. He must have gone over every inch of this hotel in that time, but he missed this?
Not like it matters, anyway. He'd been having too much fun at the time to leave right away.
WOLFWOOD, NICHOLAS D., YOUR DESTINATIONS ARE
1. GUNSMOKE MEI CITY 9.17.26
His hand hovers over the screen.
Maybe he hadn't missed it. Maybe he just had been too damn happy to take a break from the sun and the sand. There are no orders here and no shootouts. No annoying legendary gunman with $$60,000,000,000 on his head. Instead, there's trees and grass and a city that isn't falling slowly to pieces--but that doesn't change the facts, and the fact is that he's been here too long. Not to mention he's curious as to what's going on back at home. His stomach growls audibly and he pats it. "Okay, okay. Food first, information later. You're the boss."
The walk out of here is a lot shorter than the one in--or at least it feels that way and he's got only a few seconds of cool air that tastes like metal before the door opens before his hand and he's got to squint to block out the suns. High noon and it feels like a million degrees; he can't even look straight until the dark glasses are safely over his eyes.
The horizon stretches: long, flat, shimmering, empty. The people who pass by wear clothing as colorless as the buildings are, brown and gray and tan, stumping up out of the sand and the hard dirt road like they were piled there by the wind, just a few more lumps of dune. The only thing with color in it is the sky, and that's as brassy and blue and mercilessly clear as ever.
Hey, it turns out that absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. Still, there's something good about being back here, and the rumble from his stomach that accompanies that thought reinforces it. Time for some grub.
Unfortunately for him, it seems as though no one told the restuarant owners that they needed to have some food out...and the others weren't so keen on his staying after they'd seen the contents of his pockets. So woolongs don't actually get you anything here, what the hell happened to giving out of the goodness of your heart?
So much for charity.
There's another place, near the center of town, and he ambles towards it as some kids run by, playing and kicking up dust that turns orange and red in the setting sun, and at first he thinks that the shouts and squeals that he hears are coming from them. It's the scream that really catches his attention.
"What're you doing to my mom?!?"
It's dark and bare inside the little restaurant, and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust from the sunshine outside, but what's there is easy enough to see: two large men, one little kid tugging at an arm and kicking at a leg, and--oh, man--the most beautiful woman in the world being held between them, pleading. "Please," she begs, "please, I'll pay you the money, just wait a little longer!"
It's enough to melt a heart of stone, which is apparently not what these two have. "Lady," one of them says, annoyed, "you're long past your deadline. Unless you pay off your debt in full, we can't make any money, either."
The other one, finding this funny, laughs, and nudges the woman in the ribs with his elbow.
"Hey," says Wolfwood, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his jacket pocket (don't want them to get scratched, right?), "is this place open, or what?" He can practically see the poor woman trembling from here. It's hard to keep his voice even.
"Beat it," says the thinner of the two thugs, gripping her wrist even harder. "This is none of your business, preacher man."
"Oh, now," Wolfwood tells him, over the clank of the Punisher's foot hitting the floor, "that's just not true. After all, the Good Lord says that charity shall cover the multitude of sins, and I just happen to be an expert on that sort of thing. You've really got to embrace the spirit of giving; here, let me show you."
He gives. He's a generous soul, in that way.