No Mans Judge

Having this worm be a consistent pain seemed to be his inescapable fate, no matter what universe they found themselves in.

The pen is twirled between his fingers before he drags his unblinking stare away from the other.

The worm hums. "That is good, though, to hear you're at least comfortable." Though, Zazie does recognize that they feel a little... jealous. It's odd, really, this feeling. They thought they never really could feel it.

It's possible that they believe dying here would mean a permanent end. Yet for all the danger Wolfwood found himself in, Zazie seemed unharmed. Was that due to deception or luck? When had they last been made to even feel pain?

Peacebringer's business end holds steady.

The Typhoon wielding it waits a tense heartbeat—then another—before his statue-still posture breaks to lower the hammer, reholster performed calmly and without breaking eye contact. The wire remains; it isn't retracted just yet.

"You've made your choice, then." He'd used that silence to listen carefully, and the shots had only moved further away, toward the Mistwood. The reports themself sounded familiar; gunfire that incriminated the only organization from Noman's Land who would even think to hunt after their former catspaw. They wouldn't simply move on if they knew Vash the Stampede lived nearby. Could be why he's had to forgo the Punisher, the vials.

Meaning all he has left is sheer distraction. Where'd he learn that from?

"We have two birds that need to be given feed in a couple of hours—that's on the back level lower than this one, at the holding pens," Vash says as his grappling wire finally unwinds. The outlaw's already on the move to hoist the Punisher up onto his back.

"If they care any bit about me, they'd want me back alive." Unlike Wolfwood. "So they won't burn this place down."

In other words: stay. It's safe, here. Taking care of the thoma seemed like a reasonable trade for temporary asylum.

"There're maps on the walls of the ship, case you get lost. And thanks for comin' over for me—it's good you could." Vash makes for his exit, doors sliding open once more. The desert sun makes a shadow of his silhouette, fusing the Punisher into it. "I'm off."

So when Vash finally releases them, the Beast immediately lets out the breath they had been holding. They listen to the instructions given.

"Got it," Zazie says - aware that this is more than fair for shelter. Vash made a deal, and Zazie had just upheld theirs with Wolfwood.

When Vash leaves, the Worm scampers off to find the cabinet of sweets. They needed something to eat if they were going to be doing chores until the two came back.

"I'm so hurt...I didn't know you bother other people! Though I wouldn't consider it a bother." In truth, he'd consider Zazie to be a friend, or at least one of the closest things to a friend he had at the moment. Humming, he presses his finger gently against the glass jar.

"You don't care if I hang around," the sprit points out. When Ivan asks his question, Zazie hums.

"Not really all that different indeed," the teen ghost answers. "At least I have a lot more room to move around, though."

This was different, without a doubt; the ruckus coming from Wolfwood's last known direction galvanizes the Stampede into his own action. The undertaker getting involved is a matter of when, and he's out there without his usual tricks of the trade. The strange wooden box containing those venom-vials is quickly tossed into Vash's bag; there's no time to search for the key, and in the worst case, some application of strength would do the trick to prise it open, even if it meant ruining the craftsmanship of the thing.

After finishing his own preparations, the lone desperado seizes the Punisher, rushing toward the ground floor entrance of Home as a standby for Wolfwood. Whatever's going on, they'll handle it together.

@nomansjudge:

"Vash! Open up!"

That's not him. His bag is tossed to the ground. The Punisher hits the ground with a heavy thud, its close proximity causing reverberations to reach outside to the nearby visitor.

Entrance doors to the ship slide apart, a gust of cold air rushing out toward Zazie.

Zzzt!!

Just as the gap between the doors are large enough—a wire lashes out as fast as a bullet, narrowly missing them—before curling back and rapidly winding around their form.

Zazie is yanked inside Home, and the doors are shut as fast as they had opened.

What's long become a refurbished "living room" had been initially designed as a lobby for those entering Home for cryostasis, making the floor that the Beast had been pulled onto a cold metal welcome.

Colder still is its lone internal occupant, who raises Peacebringer directly at his still-bound hostage, aiming to discourage any escape attempt they might instinctively try.

"Eyes here. Start talking." The revolver's hammer has already been pulled back.

The cold that greets the Beast is noticeable. The sole occupant of Home at current aiming their weapon at them almost makes the Worm shiver. Almost.

"I'm not with them!" They start. "Punisher sent me here to tell you what's going on. He said it's island bullshit, and that he's taking the good bike into the Mistwood." Zazie is hoping Vash believes them. They don't blame him if he doesn't.

"I'll be back, no promise on the number of pieces." Setting that deal in stone, he takes a moment, listens for what little he can hear of footfall on sand, and then runs out from behind the Beast's nest.

The effect is instantaneous, gunfire hailing on his heels. Luckily nothing makes direct contact, only grazing him so far. He kicks the stand up with his heel, the sound of metal on metal comforting right now.

Luckily the bike starts right up - Vash's bike, not the Starbike - and the headlights illuminate the shadows gathering in front of him.

He snorts, thinking back to some scripture of shadow and light, and then the engine roars to life, cutting through the dead of night and the gunfire as he takes off across the dunes, heading toward the Mistwood.

The second the engine roars, the Bug pushes off from the sand. As the shadows swarm like ants to an intruder, Zazie the Beast darts away. Their own silhouette barely visible as they make it to the closest door to Home.

And now that he'd run into their nest, they were in danger, too.

"Yeah, alright. Didn't piss anyone off, but," he can hear them getting closer, and he's starting to figure out what's going on. "At least not this kinda pissed off. Listen,"

Best way to deal with Zazie the Beast? Make a deal with them.

"I'm gonna run over to where the bikes're parked an' distract 'em, and yer gonna run over to the ship. Tell needle-noggin' there's some island shit goin' on," that's gotta be it. He can only hope. "An' that I'm takin' the good bike into the Mistwood to draw 'em out of Umber. You do all that for me, and you can have my candy stash. Cabinet above the fridge. Deal?" He holds out his hand, hoping this is enough to get the Beast to do this favor for him.

So is their safety. While the idea of leaving Wolfwood to deal with this on his own feels less than stellar, Zazie is very painfully aware of their limitations.

Figure out what to do next. He's not armed, and he's not sure he'd be able to make it back into Home to grab the Punisher. He's not sure that he'd be able to...

No, not gonna worry about that now.

Instead he dives for a nearby sand dune, only to find-

"Zazie!?" Any nickname he could've used left his mind as he blew his cover with his surprise. "Shit-" Diving down, he gestures to the worm,

"Are you sleeping here?" Why not come inside!? Or at least use the shed. But, no time for that as bullets fly through the sand around them. "Fuck, no time for that, we need to, ah, shit, do something-"

But it seems fate decided that Zazie isn’t allowed any more peace. Bullets hit the sand dune they had nestled into, and the Bug is quick to scuttle out of the way - right into Wolfwood’s path.

Midvalley winces.

" Yeah, of course I do. We actually moved in at the same exact time. "

And the saxophonist had not put on his best performance when coming face to face with the man he was supposed to live with. He definitely made the guy all kinds of confused with what he had to ask; nobody in that building knew about the Earth Fleet, or Noman's Land.

If they had crash landed on this planet, all of this would had made sense.

He sighs and presses a hand to the back of his head, shaking it.

" Not like I trust him, or anybody else. Neither should you, worm, " he purses his lips, thoughtful for a moment.

"I rarely trust anyone anyways," the worm drawls as they approach Midvalley. "Out of work, I guess. Though a job might help you stay busy." They reply.

" I'd rather face the devil himself in this laboratory than my classmates. Right now, I am trying to focus, " he mutters under his breath, couple of more labels attached before he moves the track of samples into the cabinet of other specimen.

Finally, Knives turns to face the other, pushing his glasses further up the sharp line of his sloped nose.

Maybe, maybe a part of him is intrigued by the physiological components of someone like this.

When they are inquired about their state of being, the ghost lets out a loud laugh. How direct!

"No, I'm a figment of your imagination," Zazie responds sarcastically. "Yes, I'm dead. How do you think I became a ghost?"

" My concept of possibility versus fantasy has been tested a lot in recent years, " he quips.

" Hivemind networks are observed in insect colonies. There have been no such cases in mammals, much less humanoids. But, if what you claim is true, " a sugar cube is dropped into his cup of tea, and L daintly stirs it with a small spoon.

The smirk on their face isn't hard to miss as their tea companion makes their deduction. "Right on the dot there, Mr. Detective." They gleefully answer.

"Only problem is, I'm not connected to anything. So how do you think I'm still sentient, hm?"

It must suck, he thinks, to be cut off from so many others. And then he pushes that thought aside, instead turning on the screen on his phone.

"Would'a been better if you brought yers, since mine is all fucked up." He opens it up, scrolling through his haphazard and completely unorganized apps.

"...I guess the first question, O' Great Worm Majesty, us, uh,"

Then their attention is brought back to the phone lesson at hand. "Eh, probably, but your phone's like you. Rough around everything, but still functioning." They say.

Zazie's presence has always been an odd one. He knows they never chose a side to offer their full support to, and likely never will. Still, the two of them have accompanied each other for a long time. It feels like several centuries have passed since they first met in the middle of the desert. Knives had been just a child.

Good. He would rather deal with a wandering spirit, or a dozen of them, than another student. The only reason he frequented the laboratory in the late hours of the night was to not have to answer stupid questions. But judging by the tone, this one wouldn't leave him be if he simply ignored it - as tempting as it is.

"Sometimes," the specter replies. "Not all the time. Just when you're in here alone." Zazie immediately takes a 'seat' on the table top on the other side of Knives.

" So there is no need for death to end up here. "

Every time he thinks he has figured out something about this place, he is proven wrong.

He shoots a sharp glare toward the other again.

"Nope, seems like it." They chime in, unhelpfully. Zazie doesn't move when Knives glares at them.

"Yeah, that makes sense," they murmur. Their visible eye glances up at Knives. "If that would help you feel better, I'd recommend it. Wanna head out and start looking now?"