Lyra the Punisher 2: Psycho (Lyra)

Lyra Loud was in a bit of a pickle.

She had managed to track down a criminal by the name of Francis who ostensibly could help her find the monsters who had killed her beloved Lemy. Unfortunately in the process she had slipped up a bit by letting herself get caught unawares, held at gunpoint, captured, stripped of all the goodies she'd found, been interrogated by the baddie (whose name was Francis, she'd learnt) when she was meant to be interrogating him and then finally only released because more baddies came along and shot at their location- wounding Francis in just the right way that he didn't die and needed someone to help him escape.

Now she was waving around a shotgun fresh out of her former target's weaponry supply in the slim hope of survival and hoping to whatever God hadn't abandoned her yet that she'd get out both alive and with the information she needed.

So all in all, quite the pickle indeed.

On the other hand Francis had come along with a bag of goodies that her inner psyhco positively squee'd at, thus the aforementioned shotgun. Already she could feel the potential within the weapon, the wide bore of the barrel speaking of mayhem she wreak with it-

"Do you know how- urrhhh!" The rather sore Gangster stopped for a moment because he'd been shot and that tends to sting a bit. "… How to work that piece in your hands girl?"

Lyra's bloody musings were halted and her cheeks coloured, "… no."

"Fucking amateurs," the man rolled his eyes- and Lyra bit her tongue to protest with just how many people she'd killed in the past week (some of them might have been his friends after all). "It's already loaded, just pump the back the fore end- hllgk- after every shot!"

"Like in the movies?" Lyra blurted before she could stop herself.

The man stared at her with the bitter patience of a man who had no better options.

"… Like in the movies." The red-faced Lyra shamefacedly affirmed.

Luckily for Lyra's wounded pride- a murderer kicked in the Francis' front door and tried to shoot them. Being already hunched over, Lyra escaped his immediate vision.

The startled the teenager gave a yelp of surprise and pointed The Boomstick lethal end first at the baddie, pulling the trigger with all her might.

Of course, as this was a weapon that very new to her, two things happened:

Firstly her untrained hands were subject to a nasty kick that bruised them as her too loose grip failed to compensate for the power of the firearm.

The second was that her shot went nowhere near where she thought it would.

Fortunately for her, when one has a shotgun precision is less important than general proximity.

Unfortunately for their would-be-executioner, Lyra had been more or less crouched to avoid being sniped from afar- and so her immediate line of sight, and line of fire was lower than usual.

And thus it was that rather than delivering a heart-destroying centre-body mass strike, instead Lyra found herself horrified to stare at the bloody mush where the man's reproductive organs had once been.

Surely he should have collapsed, or fallen over- but apparently her shot had gone entirely through soft tissue rather than striking bone as the three people silently realised what had just happened.

"… I am so sorry," Lyra whispered.

The man's big, sorrowful eyes stared into hers, something conveying some sentiment along the lines of 'uncalled for' - but he said nothing.

Mainly because Francis' bullet nailed him in the head before he regained his bearings.

"Fookin' hell!" He cursed. "Not cheatin' you, that's for sure."

Lyra opened her mouth to protest that she hadn't conducted a shotgun castration on purpose- but was interrupted as the wave of bullets suddenly intensified.

"Hov!" One of the men outside screamed, "Francis you bastard- how could you!?"

"Great, now they think I'm the psyhco." The criminal grumbled, and Lyra glared at him. "No- don't give me that bloody look- I kill people for money, but that shit was unnecessary for-"

BANG BANG BANG

"… But I wouldn't mind if you went and did it to the rest of 'em." Francis winced as the gunfire intensified. "All right, wait until they pause to reload- then go and run for cover!"

"Won't they just have one guy keep firing while they rest reload?" Lyra queried.

"They would- but The Machine Gunners are thickheads," he nudged the body, which had a bloody hole in the backside like he'd had the worst bowl of curry in history. " 't's why they went in guns blazin' instead of sneaking up and shooting through the windows or using grenades after the windows blew in. Just wait until the pause comes and I'll give you covering fire all right?"

Lyra bit her lip, but considering that they would probably die if they stayed put she didn't really have an option; so she nodded.

"Good, now sit there and wait until I start firing…"

She didn't wait for long. As one might expect- continuously shooting rapidly depletes one's ammunition, so it was mere seconds before the shooting stopped.

"Now!" Francis growled, and stuck the edge of his gun out of the door frame to start firing.

Lyra jumped forwards, careful to avoid the half of the frame where Francis was shooting from and sprinted faster than she thought possible- if only Aunt Lynn could see her now!

No, actually she'd probably beat her ass for getting into this shit in the first place-

"Holy shit!" Lyra's eyes were drawn to a target as her eyes searched for cover (note to self; next time find the cover before running into an open firefight!). The numpty was simply standing out in the open- in direct defiance of all sanity, sensibility and natural selection and Lyra felt some compulsion to pump the shotgun and fire at him lest he contaminate the genepool.

Which she promptly did.

But again her inexperience with the weapon reared its head and the knockback threw her shot off- missing centre mass to take out a nasty chunk of his left arm- leaving the genetic dead end to bleed out into the dirt as he collapsed in shock.

Lyra pumped the shotgun to reload it as she threw herself behind a convenient truck, and might have fired again but Francis' firing finally inspired some tactical thinking in the assorted nonces as two of them suffered bad cases of exploded heads.

"Scatter you fucking idiots!" Some hypocritical voice rang out, as it came from said group of fucking idiots. "Scatter!"

Lyra breathed heavily, her adrenaline peaked and her sanity on the verge of snapping again- most of her kills were spur of the moment things, she wasn't used to her fights dragging out for more than a minute at most…

More shots ran out to distract her from her inner turmoil and Lyra threw herself to the ground in case the frame of the truck was less than bulletproof. As she did though she noticed one of the smarter thugs was creeping behind the northern side of the trailer- and from the widening of his eyes he'd spotted her!

Lyra felt the world slow down.

She wasn't trained with her weapon- and he was a good distance away, there was no way she could realistically make that shot.

Apparently he thought so as well, because the thug promptly broke cover to take aim at her. She was dead either way, so Lyra aimed as well as she could (keeping a firmer grip this time) and fired before he could.

BANG

Somehow, despite it being night and raining down a story, Lyra Loud made the shot with a gun she'd barely touched.

The thug fell down with a scream of pain, and bloody mist with a chunk of the wall he'd been crouched behind erupted into the air. She couldn't be sure she'd killed him- but as anyone who has taken a shotgun shell to the anywhere knows; he was probably down for a bit anyway.

Lyra breathed out, and a little chuckle erupted as she pumped the shotgun again.

That was decent distance away- at night no less and she'd hit him anyway with a new weapon! Maybe her talent was with firearms after all?

She peeked again to see if the fellow had actually stayed down - and a bullet landing near her head reminded her of the other thugs presenting attempting to make her a holey woman (shut up mind Lemy you're meant to be dead!). She whipped her weapon around- but there were numerous attackers, if she took a shot it would surely be her last.

You know, some voice in her mind sounded suspiciously like her mother, sometimes you gotta know when to fold em, and honey- you should'a done that a while ago. Just split already!

Her eye twitched, "what, like you did to us!?"

Don't take that tone with me- I'm tryin' to keep you alive here!

"Why bother, fifty percent isn't a passing grade in anything," she growled. "Especially not Motherhood."

… You know I'm not actually here right? Luna sounded concerned. You're crackin' up under the stress and this is your brain's way of tellin' you to cut it out before you go all the way 'round the bend, you know; like all those dreams with the heavy-handed Satanic imagery about demons eating your soul before you started goin' full Punisher-

"Stop lecturing me like it means something!" Lyra's eye twitched again. "It's too late for you to just start being a Mom!"

… 'Aight, you know what? I'm just gonna head on out. The voice sounded defeated. Try not to get ventilated too bad- Lincoln's probably going to want an open casket funeral and all that jazz

There was the sound of retreating footsteps, then a slammed door from somewhere in her head.

"Good, leaving's all you're good for anyway," Lyra spat, then refocused upon the door to avoid contemplating just what the hell just went on inside her. "All right, gotta get that prick out…"

All of the other pricks were now shooting at the trailer again, no one apparently having taken advantage of her little breakdown to sneak up and plug her in the back of the head because they were presumably as thick as Francis had described. Speaking of thick…

"… Seriously?"

There were two morons taking cover behind a soaked couch. Francis presumably couldn't see exactly what they were hiding behind through the rain and night, but Lyra could quite clearly see the shape of the thing, and that it was just obviously not bulletproof.

There were many questions Lyra could have asked; why was there a couch just in the middle of a trailer park?

Why did the thugs think it worked for cover?

How did they even live this long?

But Lyra had had a day. A very long day in fact, and while there was a moment where her rage and adrenaline demanded she go and charge the bastards to see the lights go out of their eyes when she delivered them to God or Satan (would she get thanks from the fallen Angel for all the extra business when she finally found her way down?), her good sense prevailed and she simply crouched, crept up a bit closer under the cover of night, rainfall and the hail of bullets and aimed where she knew their bodies were through the couch.

BANG!

One shot went through fabric and flimsy metal springs like a knife through butter.

Two guns fell silent, and Lyra could see one of the morons turning to gape as his friend (co-worker? Asshole, Lyra decided. Fellow Asshole) flopped down sans a few important organs he probably wanted to keep. She quickly pumped the shotgun, and there was a moment of recognition as the Living Asshole turned to look her in the eye, horror crossing his face as he worked out that cushions were not (in fact) bulletproof.

BANG!

And then he was a Dead Asshole.

Now there was only one gun plugging away, but that petered off as Lyra waved her hand at Francis, and then approached the bodies of the men crouched behind the couch.

The were young, probably middle or high-school age.

Lyra could have gone to school with them.

For a moment something like horror, like innocence that sought to see the best in everyone and held to living a wholesome life by God's love and forgiveness belatedly raised its head.

Then it was promptly smacked down by the reality of the absolute, unrelenting idiocy of the morons who had attacked them. It wasn't even bloodlust, but rather a simple and definite sense that Lyra had not committed murder so much as carried out natural selection.

"… I'm not even sorry, you didn't deserve to live." Lyra kicked the one with a surprised expression in the head. "Dick."

"Fuck," Francis gasped from the trailer door. "You're, somethin' else aren't you? You're sure you haven't used a gun before?" He tried to climb down the short stairs, but winced as his wound moved. "AH! Quit kickin' a dead fucktard and help me you crazy twat!"

Lyra rolled her eyes, and walked over to the wounded criminal- letting him get just a good enough grip on her to help him limp over to the pockmarked truck. He was clearly bleeding, but the wound seemed safe enough since he could still whinge and moan.

As well as carry to two heavy goodie bags.

Lyra went to grab them, and found the smaller one pulled away from her grip. "Ah- I'll just keep hold of this one, pop that one in the back."

Lyra rolled her eyes again, the truck clearly bore the signs of a firefight- but on the other had none of the bullets seemed to have actually gone through so maybe it was bulletproof? Either way, she did as he asked and tossed the bag into the back.

Now they were alone. She was pretty sure if there any surviving gangster they would have started taking shots by now, so she stared Francis down. "They're dead. Talk."

She pointedly pumped the shotgun to bring the final shell to the firing position.

"Right…" Francis looked at her distressingly blue eyes. The girl looked like she should have been at home reading some crappy young adult book or baking cookies-

Except for the blood spatter from when she'd point blank shot a man's bollocks off.

"Stop staring and tell me who-"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"ARGHH!" Lrya screamed, and dragged them both behind the truck. "Who the fuck did you piss off!?"

"Some peddling hotshot that's who!" Francis snapped at her, wincing from his wound.

POP

There was a sound of rushing air and Francis' face went pale.

"… You didn't have the wheels bullet-proofed like the rest did you?" Lyra let some exasperated defeat colour her tone.

"What make you think the rest was?" In the dark it was hard to tell, but Lyra was sure that even with the blood loss the crook's face was red with embarrassment.

"Because you still thought this thing would move even after being shot so many times," Lyra slapped the truck.

"… Yeah well, I had to cover registration that week." Francis groused.

Lyra stared at him as the hail of gun fire increased.

"Look, you might think you can get away with shit as a crook- but Uncle Sam's the biggest gangster in town!" Francis groused. "You miss a dime on taxes or some shit an' you're gettin' combed over harder than if you shot a kid!"

Lyra closed her eyes- resisting the urge to shoot the criminal as his words drew Lemy's death up again, and tightened her grip on her shotgun. "I just want a name."

"You'll get that and more- but we've gotta fuckin' survive first!" Francis pushed himself closer to the front of the truck. "That shotgun has to be running low, go get something else from the big bag!"

Lyra bit her tongue, and just snuck over as Francis started plugging away to draw attention. Quickly she rifled through the thing- she'd done well with the shotgun but the two handguns were more her speed (as in she'd actually held one before) so grabbed both- that way she could use one up without having to stop and be vulnerable reloading for a few more shots!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Speaking of shots- she should leave before her luck ran out and she got one in the face or the Police arrived.

She took a quick glance to assess the situation (lots of bullets and things on fire- but one or two places she could take her 'friend' to take cover in and maybe get out), then turned to Francis again.

"You're shot, so follow me," she ordered, then plugged a shot at one of the gang member who was trying to inch closer. "Keep your head down until after you give me the name- you can blow it off yourself after!"

Lyra looked around again, tracking her course to the next trailer home (an abandoned one from the dilapidated look of it, she sure hoped the entire park was abandoned before the shooting started…). She looked back at Francis, who was very clearly not in a position to run.

She'd have to provide covering fire.

For a second she considered dual wielding her handguns to provide a distraction- like something from her fallen love's action movies.

Then her sensible side came along and gave her a metaphorical slap upside the head as the glint from Francis' submachine gun caught her eye.

"Gimmie that," Lyra demanded.

Francis looked up to protest, but Lyra motioned to her hands. "Unless you want me covering you with these."

The criminal regarded her sourly, but handed her the weapon nonetheless, Lyra giving him her handguns in exchange. "She's got a kick to her."

"That's fine," Lyra felt a sense of power as she tucked the weapon into her shoulder. "So do I."

Francis looked at her like he wanted to facepalm, and Lyra felt herself flush as she realised just how tryhard she sounded. "You want to workshop that luv?"

"Just get going!" Lyra growled, and turned to start firing into the general direction of the baddies- wincing at the promised 'kick' instantly bruising her bicep and shoulder.

Francis limped along well enough, so Lyra kept her eyes to the battle at hand- alternating between peaking from the back and the front of the truck to spray hot lead.

She wasn't really expecting to hit anyone, just to keep from them from getting a clear shot on her 'friend'. And as the wide array of sparks from where the bullets struck metal flashed in the dark, her suspicion that her stick like schoolgirl arms might not be best suited for a submachine gun was very much verified. But sooner or later she had to make her own way across- and as Francis yelped as he fell behind the trailer, that time was now!

Gulping down air, Lyra peaked out the front and let loose another spray of bullets to dissuade the attackers- then darted from the opposite side of the truck to the trailer.

And of course, this was when two of the Gangsters stuck their heads out and raised their guns to fire.

Lyra let out a yelp and fell to the ground, firing wildly again- and through sheer rate of fire managed to hit one in the arm and 'persuade' the other to duck down.

"What the fuck is tonight?" She groaned. "I just wanted a name- not shotguns and a firefight-"

At the prompting of her petty bitching, the still whole gangster stuck his head up to stare incredulously at the teenage girl having a whinge in the middle of a battle to the death.

Lyra's inner psyhco spotted the moron- and white hot rage at the sight of another fucktard who lived while Lemy didn't prompted her to let loose a spray that somehow beaned him in the middle of his wide forehead.

"Girl, you're on a killstreak," Francis' appreciative voice came in from her left, "what's your background?"

"Not now!" Lyra snapped, feeling a headache borne of annoyance, frustration and probably just noise from all the shooting beating behind her eyeballs.

"Seriously- it's like you're an action movie star-"

"Oh for-" Lyra rolled to her feet and tried to make her way to the next trailer again, only for another Thug to pop out of cover like a numpty and her fury at such idiocy seemed to aim and pull the trigger before she even considered it.

Rapid shots rang out- and all of them seemed to strike. The body twirled with suddenly volitionless limbs and landed with a wet thud.

"… seriously expectin' you to catch a bullet with your teeth next!"

"Oh come on," Lyra growled and finally got behind cover. "Just keep moving before they corner us!"

She pulled him with one hand, and he duly started moving toward the only entrance/exit of the trailer park. "Sure, sure- I wanna keep me bollocks anyway…"

They almost made it without further incident, whatever thugs there were milling about still focussed upon the spot where they had been- and Lyra could hear sporadic fire as they got further and further. For a second she had hope- with thugs this stupid they might not have even left anyone to guard the entrance.

Then a thug fired from the shadows and Lyra found herself on the ground, shoulder numb for a second before a deep ache echoed through it.

BANG!

"Arghh," she moaned, and flipped herself over to witness the thug fall as Francis dual wielded pistols while bleeding to nonetheless land a lethal hit on their assailant. "… You… look so… tryhard…"

"Ah shut it," the gangster curtly countered, before leaning down to let her grab a forearm with her good hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Lyra snapped as she pulled herself up, her shoulder protesting with shocks every second she moved it- but she made to a nearby and convenient dumpster for them to hide behind.

Francis pulled open some of her torn clothing, revealing her armour- in particular a shoulder pad with a flattened bullet still lodged in it. "Well not in your teeth, but not far off luv- don't know who's watching over you but this stuff," he tapped the armour and Lyra hissed in pain, "ain't what you use to stop bullets and it's gone and done it anyway. Seriously, you have no idea just how bloody lucky you are right now."

"… Can I still shoot?"

"What?" The gangster laughed, and pointed handed her one of the handguns. "Fuck no, not the real gun anyway. The force of that thing probably fucked your shoulder so just keep the pistol and hope you can hit somethin' with one hand."

Lyra sighed, but allowed Francis to take back his Submachine gun, which he promptly reloaded. "What about your wound?"

"I'll live." The gangster shrugged. "Lucky shot, through and through and since I'm still movin' probably nothin' vital."

"Fine," Lyra braced herself against the dumpster and pushed herself up. "We've got to go before the rest get here-"

A random asshole suddenly appeared with a gun from behind the dumpster, and Lyra instinctively pumped him full of lead- again somehow landing every hit despite only having a single good hand to aim with.

"… Before any more come along." Lyra lamely finished as the body hit the floor (that sounded like something Mom would say…)

Might wanna check your six Songbird.

"What!?" Lyra growled at the voice of her hated mother, "I thought were gone- hrrrlk!"

Lyra gagged as a hand suddenly dragged her into a chokehold from behind.

Told you so.

FUCK OFF MOM.

I come back to help out and you give me this? And what's with the language, you gonna kiss me with that mouth?

"Oh hell no!" The smelly thug from behind spat into her ear, "all my friends are dead, I'm killing both'a you fucks with my bare hands!"

The situation was poor.

Her gun was empty, and even though the presumably armed thug hadn't shot her because he was angry and stupid, Lyra didn't really have any other weapons on her. Francis…

Francis looked more conflicted than she would have given him credit for- the thug had said he was the last one left and with his wound clearly not needing immediate attention he could have shot through Lyra and limped off to whatever backwater sawbones he knew for a patch up, agreement be damned.

An honourable thief, who would have thought?

But as the light of the world dimmed and her throat started to crack in horrific ways, Lyra realised that it would make no difference. In a moment she'd be dead and Francis would likely shoot the thug, or the thug would shoot him upon seeing the submachine gun in the other crook's hands.

All there as to do was wait….

And see Lemy again.

Lemy…

A vision of Lemy's pale, smashed dead face flashed before her eyes and pure hate made the pain in her lungs pointless. She kicked her feet out and pushed back off of the filled, heavy dumpster.

The rain slicked ground offered little purchase for the thugs feet as he stumbled backward and Lyra twisted out of his grip, her throat screaming for reprieve as his fingers clenched to retain their grip. But she was free and-

His face exploded as Francis' gun roared. The body fell backwards, and left a bloody trail on a nearby wall as the neck stump scraped against it on the its way down, leaving a nearby porcelain plant pot speckled with blood but undamaged as the head that could have smashed it was currently mush.

Lyra looked back a Francis.

"What?" The gangster queried. "I wasn't just gonna sit there now was I?"

"Oh…" Lyra eyed the goodie bag Francis was currently carrying, a nice axe handle sticking out of it. "I was kind of hoping to maybe…"

Francis looked at the axe handle, then back to her.

"He was a jerk!" Lyra lamely defended.

"And you're a fuckin' axe-murder in the making," Francis backed away. "Seriously woman, after tonight's performance I'm goin' straight- freaks like you make this business too dangerous for sane people."

"You're a murderous Drug Dealer!" Lyra protested.

"Yes, for money." The man empathised, now backing out of the trailer park. "You Madam, are a freak, and if the de-bollocking before didn't prove it, going for the axe over a gun or somethin' else sure as hell did. That shit's up close and personal when you do it like that."

Lyra bit her lip. "… I just wanted the practice okay!"

"What for, you planning on makin' this a regular thing?" Francis rolled his eyes, "yeah, that's a sane thing to do."

They were well out of the carpark now, and Lyra could see her car in the distance. Francis was looking at her warily, and Lyra was suddenly aware that she had no firearm, but he did.

If he wanted to shoot her now- there was nothing she could do to stop him- even if she'd taken the axe. But if he was going to do that, then he could have done it earlier when both she and the last Thug were 'wrestling'.

Nah love, that was before you went and showed him what kinda psycho you are. Dude's got incentive to shoot to you now in case you change your mind about lettin' him live.

"Oh just get lost!" Lyra growled.

"Oh trust me, I'm gonna." Francis affirmed as he clicked off attempting a phone call to someone, apparently having tried to contact a friend (if criminals had those) while she was having her 'conversation'. "But before that; you wanted to know who-"

BANG BANG BANG

Lyra yelped as she felt another bullet strike her arm and found herself sprayed with blood as Francis' chest exploded, a hail of bullets striking him across the torso.

She threw herself to the ground and looked for the attacker- only to see a white car speeding off. Through the front seat window Lyra caught the briefest glimpse of the face of the thug that had first tried to sneak behind the trailer- the one that she'd thought she'd hit lethally at range with her shotgun.

"Dang it!" She cursed.

"Seriously?" Francis moaned. "What kind of freak doesn't swear at a time… like…"

Lyra's eyes widened and she scrambled over, Francis' many wounds were leaking like a faucet- he clearly wasn't long for this world. "Forget the language, who killed my brother!?"

Francis's eyes stared at hers and he choked as he spoke, 'accidentally' spitting blood into her face. "S-sure… deal's a deal… it was… Mooo…"

"Mooo what?" Lyra resisted the urge to slap him- he might just clam up out of spite. "Seriously Moo what?"

"Mooootor… DICE!" The last word was spoken with a force that spattered her with more blood.

And then his blank eyes held no spark.

"… Dice…" the word trailed from his life, her mind turning it over as something pulled in her mind.

Ah shit, here we go- on a highway to hell again.

A vision of a lifetime ago, when all she had on her hands was the blood of That Bitch from school.

"… is the one… then don't fall on your ass, do what you gotta do, show no regrets for your actions because in the end it's not for him or you it's both."

"… No…"

Yeah, I'm not stayin' for this meltdown. There was more rapid footsteps and again the sound of a slamming door in her head.

"Thanks."

"Sure, it's not everyday I help a lost soul in this shit world. I prefer to fuck shit up, but it is what it is."

"No, no, NO!"

"I'm Lyra by the way."

"Pretty name. D-ahh, Dice."

"NO NO NO NO NO!" Lyra's fragile excuse for sanity as the cosmic irony clicked together. In that moment she was certain that there was a God again- for nothing else could explain such utter universal dickery. In a second she was in her car, slamming the acceleration to drive off to somewhere that wasn't here as her visage twisted to something akin to a now ancient meme. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"


A/N:

Thanks to Nuuo for a Beta-Read.