Chapter Text
Nobody expects getting hit by a car.
But Nicholas D. Wolfwood probably should by now. At least as long as Meryl Stryfe has a driver’s license and a vehicle.
The first time was his own damn fault, though never in a million years would Wolfwood admit it. He foolishly thought whoever was driving Vash the Stampede around kept their eyes fully on the road at all times. All he needed to do was step into view and surely they’d stop to help a guy wandering the desert out.
Well, he certainly learned otherwise when his face smashed into the car’s trailer.
Rumors swirled all over No Man’s Land about a man in a red coat stealing plants again. It wasn’t much - copycat criminals being stupid enough to take on that notoriety would always exist. But after two years and a chunk of change, Wolfwood still needed to check. Needed to be sure…
He soldiered on through the desert. Wolfwood forgot the name of the town he left and also the one he was headed for. All he knew was a direction most of the reports came from. With a will and the fumes of a prayer, Wolfwood set off before he could really think it through. Mostly because every attempt to remain stationary for any respectable form of time quickly made him consider chewing through whatever hotel walls he found himself in.
After the fifth trashed hotel room, Wolfwood decided he couldn’t delay it any longer. He needed to find Vash.
There was no way that megalomaniac Millions Knives would let himself die. And if a chance existed he survived, then surely his twin and spikey-haired pushover made it out. Both of them were too stubborn to die.
Takes one to know one and all that.
Honestly, if Wolfwood was any less of a stubborn bitch, maybe he would’ve heard the approaching, hungry engine.
Metal slammed through his legs and he found himself staring up at a bright sky before smashing into the sands.
“Hey, are you okay?!” A somewhat familiar voice asked him. Did Meryl really hit him with her car a SECOND TIME?
Once he got his head unstuck, he’d give her a piece of his mind.
“Oh, that looks like it hurt, Mister Priest.”
Wait, the little lady mentioned something about a new partner the last time they managed to get in contact. This must be that Milly whoever she mentioned.
But why was she calling him a priest?
Wolfwood gasped for air as he yanked his head free. With a cough and a snort, sand poured from just about every place he knew of (and a few he didn’t). He shook his head and smacked at his ear to dislodge whatever was muffling sound.
But the woman who shoved a water jug in his hand startled him.
It was unquestionably Meryl. Young still, but not nearly as youthful as he remembered, with the same earrings still flashing under the desert sun. A few small lines would turn into wrinkles in another decade around her eyes. Though her original bulk white coat was replaced with a sleek nearly poncho style cloak.
She held herself differently too. Still upright but there was a comfort and familiarity in her posture that he didn’t recall seeing before. Something older, wiser. Suppose something like Julai ages anyone pretty quickly.
“Man, Little Lady, the years haven’t been that kind to you, have they?”
He expected her to yell at him. Or to pout before angrily lecturing him about manners and basic human decency again. It was their same old song and dance routine they developed before Julai. And finetuned in the first few weeks traveling with just them two.
Meryl only frowned. “Years? We just left you and Vash three days ago.”
“The hell you mean ‘me and Vash’?” Wolfwood sputtered. “What kinda are prank you pulling?”
“Now now, Mister Priest, I’m sure you’re memory’s a little scrambled from the heat,” the other woman said sweetly. She came up and patted his shoulder. “We’re almost to the next town anyways. We’ll get you some more water there!”
“That too,” Wolfwood grumbled. He shrugged, displacing the tall woman’s hand. And boy, was she tall. She practically towered over Meryl in her long green and yellow duster. “Shorty, did you not tell her I’m an undertaker? Like I could ever convincingly pull off being a priest.
“You literally gave a sermon two towns ago about how God works in mysterious ways to try and convince people to take part in your confession scam,” Meryl said flatly.
“You bragged you made a few hundred double dollars from it too,” Milly added.
Wolfwood only sputtered. Maybe they were right and the suns got to him out here. The long desert played tricks on the mind but Wolfwood was made of heartier stuff. Surely he wouldn’t forget such an elaborate con so far out of his comfort zone.
But Meryl and Milly spoke with certainty. They had no reason to lie, as far as he could tell.
Well about this at least. Everyone can scrap up at least one reason to hide something.
Finally, he put the water jug to his lips and tipped his head back. Cold water cleared out the remaining sand from his throat as he swilled water in his mouth before spitting the worst of it back out before inhaling as much water as Meryl let him.
In another surprising turn of events, the Little Lady said nothing. No teasing or mockery - only a questioning look.
“Milly…”
“I see it too, Meryl!” the tall woman said. She moved to squat down and put herself on Wolfwood’s eye level. Her gaze felt particularly piercing, as if she could unravel all of his secrets and insecurities with just a smile. “You’re not Wolfwood.”
“The hell do you mean by that? This is the first time we’ve even met.”
“That concludes it.” Milly stood back up and proudly said “This is another Wolfwood.”
The Little Lady stepped in closer, leaning down to give him a good glance over. After a moment, she reached out and ruffled his hair much to Wolfwood’s protest. “He does look younger.”
“Pretty sure we’re about the same age,” Wolfwood growled.
“Humor me, please,” Meryl said. Wolfwood couldn’t remember her voice carrying this much authority in it. The last few years really did a number on them both. “What do you last remember?”
“Pretty sure you hit me with your car,” Wolfwood said. “Not for the first time, mind you! Do you ever watch where you’re driving?”
“Car?” Milly asked.
Wolfwood gave her a sharp look. “I swear, if you tell me cars aren’t real, I don’t care who you work with, I will shoot you.”
“He’s like an angry kitten,” Milly said instead of cowering in fear of his vicious threats. She smiled. “It’s adorable.”
He was gonna need a minute for his brain to restart. “ADORABLE?!”
A small hand smacked him over the head. “I couldn’t have hit you with my car.”
“Then why do I have tire tracks in my suit?”
Meryl frowned. “That I don’t know. But arguing out here in the sand isn’t going to do either of us any good.”
“Fine,” Wolfwood said. He stood up and tried not to wobble as his legs remembered how to stand straight. The Punisher lifted up easily enough onto his back, settling into its normal place. “Let’s get moving then.”
“Where are you going?” Milly asked.
“Walking? You know, a basic human function. That still exists in this little prank of yours, right?”
Meryl let out a deep sigh. “We’ve been traveling by Thomas. We thought we saw The Punisher when we came over the last dune and found you with your head stuck in the sand.”
Wolfwood groaned. “Those featherballs hate me when they’re big enough for riding.”
“Feathers?”
Sure enough, Wolfwood finally took a good look at the creatures Milly brought closer.
“The hell are these?”