Chapter Summary
Previously, the Cluster was the first ship to breach the rift. The League's probe brings evidence needed to convince Lois, Jimmy, and the League's Gamma Team to complete their mission. Despite the dangers, the team passed through the rift and resumed chasing Mxy on No Man's Land.
Now, Lois and Jimmy follow their own lead, taking them into the unfamiliar town of Kasted City. Nearby, Lina gets into big trouble. Big brother 'Eriks' tries to de-escalate the situation while the newcomers and an old friend witness the scene unfold.
—
Now, at the proud age of twelve and a half, Lina made it her mission to be the best troublemaker in town.
So it was Eriks's new job to bail her out of her latest mishap. A mishap that started off with a bang.
Eriks grabbed Lina by the waist as a rocket slammed into the abandoned building behind him.
The building crumbled in the following explosion, causing the whole structure to collapse. The massive boom drowned out all other sounds. A dust cloud plumed high into the air and around the nearby buildings through narrow alleys and streets.
Eriks sprinted down the familiar bedrock streets and turned a couple of corners, trying to lose their pursuers. Lina shoved her little fists into his thighs in protest, yammering and spouting curse words even Eriks and Granny never used.
He paid no mind to her demands but scolded, "Lina! Don't make me wash that mouth out with soap when we get home!"
"Ugh, Eriks! Put me down!" she groaned, trying to push him away but failing.
Eriks turned yet another corner down the street, losing his tail. He hopped over the three steps up to the saloon in one stride, shoving the swing doors open.
As per usual in the last couple of weeks, he was greeted with a face full of guns. The locals all quickly lowered their weapons when they saw the familiar face of the tall blonde man with glasses. They grumbled, "Oh, it's just Eriks and Lina," like their response was a common occurrence.
"Uh, hullo friends," Eriks greeted with a sheepish smile. He made his way over to a booth in the corner of the bar and plopped his young charge down. She crossed her arms and huffed dramatically.
"You shoulda let me at 'im!" she yelled, practically spitting fire. "That no good, grubby-fingered worm of a man had it comin' to him."
"I think you pissed him off real good this time. Did it have to get so violent?" Eriks sighed with a wry smile. "I don't think they saw us come in here. We'll just lay low until they move on, and then we'll head straight back home. Got it, missy?"
She hmphed again and turned away with her eyes shut in defiance. "Get me a shot of Jack, and we'll call it even."
"Not happening," Eriks replied deadpan.
The bartender came over and placed two glasses of water on their table. He was used to Lina barging in demanding booze, although he never gave her any. And Eriks only partook once in a blue moon. Such a responsible young lad, the barkeep thought.
Eriks caught a glimpse of a traveler dressed in black sitting at the bar. He was about to take a closer look at the newcomer but didn't get a chance.
From outside the saloon, a couple of voices shouted back and forth.
"Hey, I think I saw 'em come this way, boss!"
"Yeah! I 'tink they ducked inta The Fifth Moon Saloon!"
"Oh, really now? Let's see how they like this hole in the moon!"
A second later, the front wall of the tavern came crashing in, the customers leaping away from their seats towards the back of the room. The tables up front clattered to the ground from the force of the blast, and a gust of dust poured into the room. The glass of the windows shattered, flying everywhere. Everyone was coughing and groaning, and multiple men shouted in alarmed anger.
Eriks stood stock still, except to shield the young girl who winced but didn't scream. Eriks' blond hair blew across his face, but his gaze was locked towards the street.
"Come out, come out wherever you are, ya little tramp!" a nasally, blubbering man's voice cooed loudly from the street.
Eriks tightened his grip on Lina, pushing her gently behind him. He frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing behind his round glasses.
The dust cloud dispersed, and the view through the giant hole in the wall finally cleared.
A squat, obese brute of a man with oily ashe blonde hair raised his overcompensating bazooka of a weapon onto his shoulder.
The man's nose was broken at a gnarly-looking angle, and blood smeared all over his already smudged-up-looking face. His mouth was twisted into a toothy snarl, and it looked like he might've lost a front tooth or two along with his broken nose.
"I'm gonna rip that dainty little foot right off your leg, girly," the fat man shouted. "Come out here and get your punishment!"
Eriks's eyes flitted to Lina, and he held in an exasperated groan.
She really nailed the ogre. Ouch!
Lina stared defiantly towards the bastard from behind Eriks. Her trembling hands, holding tightly to his shirt, betrayed her bravado, though.
A Frankenstein's Monster-esque vehicle rolled down the street, slamming to a stop with another cloud of dust trailing behind it. From the vehicle, a gaggle of bandits hopped off, guns raised.
On top of the rustbucket, a figure cloaked in a bright red duster peered down through a pair of sunglasses at the gathering.
From within the saloon, hushed whispers of, "Oh my god! It's Vash the Stampede! Let's get outta here! Is there a backdoor? No way, the Humanoid Typhoon? Shit, we're all goners," and such carried throughout the room.
—L&P—
Lois ran further into the unfamiliar sand-strewn town. Turning the corner, she and Jimmy last saw the two shouting men run by. She pulled out a small handheld blaster from her shoulder bag.
"Lois! Where did you get that?" Jimmy cried, seeing the firearm.
"Nabbed it when we went to change into our uniforms. You didn't think I wouldn't snoop around given the opportunity, did you?"
Jimmy sighed between pants and remnant coughs. "S'pose not. Never underestimate Lois Lane."
Hearing shouting getting closer, Lois leaned her back on the side of a building. She crept along until they reached the edge and peaked around the corner.
Across the street, a building in the final throes of crumbling apart immediately caught her eye. Small clouds of dust were swept into the air as more chunks of clay fell to the ground. There were several people gathered, fussing over the destruction. Some faces watched from nearby windows, and others armed with guns ran down another street.
She could just make out some shouts along the lines of, "This way, boss!" and "That bitch is gonna get it!"
She carefully observed the surroundings before deciding to tail the men with guns. She caught Jimmy's eyes and tilted her head in that direction for him to follow.
They stuck to the shadows and alleys as best they could, trying to avoid being spotted. Suddenly, another resounding boom echoed down the street, followed by shouts and screams galore.
Sneaking down another alley, the pair could hear the shouting getting louder and louder. A large, rusty piecework vehicle with oversized, off-road tires sped by the intersection. Lois flinched and faced away as another dust cloud filled the street.
She turned back to see the tank of a vehicle swerve to a sudden stop. A weathered sign painted in stenciled letters above the building behind the tank read, "The Fifth Moon Saloon."
The vehicle was blocking the view of the saloon entrance where the armed men were all facing.
Lois scoped out a good place to duck behind with a better view while remaining at a safe distance from the commotion. She decided on a large stack of whiskey barrels on the far left side of the saloon.
Before she changed her mind, she darted out in a low squatted run, urging Jimmy along. They made it behind the stack of barrels, no one else the wiser.
From this new vantage point, she could see that the saloon had a gaping hole busted through the front wall. The windows were all either shattered or heavily cracked from the force of impact.
A squat, overweight blob of a man standing just outside of the saloon was actively shouting towards the building. His face was covered in blood from a nastily broken nose. A spattering of armed grunts stood ready around him and the massive vehicle.
A tall blond man with a vibrant red duster emerged out of a hatch on the top of that tank, catching Lois's eye.
From inside the saloon, she could just make out bits and pieces of the whispered gasps of patrons.
"... my god! ….Vash the Stampede! …. get outta here! ….door? No….the …Typhoon? Shit…. all goners."
"Hey! This coward ratted on that twerp and her weasel of a friend." One of the grunts pushed a small-framed older man towards the fat man, who grabbed the old man by the throat.
The creep grinned and licked his lips. "Come on out, ya little bitch! I'm still waiting for dat apology. I'll take you back ta my place and treat ya like da mutt you are!"
Lois grit her teeth in pure rage—her whole small frame trembling. How dare anyone talk to a woman like that!
A young girl's shrill scream from the saloon pierced through the whispers, "Eriks! No, don't!"
Lois snapped her gaze back towards the crumbling saloon entrance.
A second later, a scruffy, young-looking blond man in a simple, oversized white button-down shirt, brown trousers, and suspenders walked cautiously out of the saloon with one hand raised.
—
"Eriks! Wait!" the girl cried again.
Lois could see a dark-haired head peek out through the shattered glass of a window. The girl was sobbing, face covered in tears.
Lois's heart leaped for the innocent young girl. She couldn't even have been in her teens! What the hell did that monster want with her?
The blond man continued to walk down the steps and off the saloon's porch. Several gunshots went off in warning, sand spraying up around him. The man didn't even flinch but walked slowly forward. He stopped just out of arm's reach in front of the fat man.
Lois realized he only raised his one hand because the left sleeve of his shirt was rolled up, covering the stump of an amputated arm. She sucked in a breath of air in surprise.
"Da fuck? Where's the bitch? She send out her doggy playmate?" the brute huffed nasally through his bloody nose. His crude smirk dipped into a grimace.
"Please let me apologize for the girl. You have to understand, she's only twelve years old," the blond man said in a pacifying yet steady tone.
"I'm twelve and a half!" she corrected.
The man's lips twitched, but he continued to hold a neutral face. "I'm sure we can find a solution, gentlemen? Let's talk this through civilly?" He even gave a warm smile of all things.
Lois's jaw dropped. Is this man that confident or just plain stupid?
"Like hell. Bring out da girl, and no one else has ta suffer for her disrespect!" he spit out a wad of bloody saliva.
"I can't allow that, sorry. She's just a kid. I won't let her get harmed, you see." He got down on his hands and knees. "Please, I beg you," he said, bowing his head.
"Hmph, you call that beggin'?" he turned ever so slightly to look over his shoulder.
"Hey, Vash the Stampede, whaddya say? Should we let the bitch and her doggy boy off the hook, boss?"
The hushed whispers from inside the saloon rose again. "Oh my god. Don't get the Humanoid Typhoon mad! He'll kill us all!" Even a few sobs came from the patrons.
Jimmy tugged on Lois's sleeve. His expression clearly said, "We need to get the heck outta here while we still can!"
But Lois was torn. Her heart pounded, everything telling her to flee, too. That groveling man, though. Something about him just told her she was meant to see how this played out.
The man referred to as Vash called down from his perch, "If the mutt wants to beg. Let him beg like the animal he is. Strip 'im and let him beg to his master like a good dog."
Lois was flabbergasted, her eyes going wide. No one in their right mind would do such a thing in the middle of a city street!
But as she was thinking that and a group of the bandits encroached on the blond man, the man himself began unbuttoning his clothing without any resistance or complaint.
Lois flushed beet-red but was frozen and couldn't avert her eyes even when she tried. She watched as the shameless man stripped butt-naked. She almost choked seeing the poor man's body. It was covered in the most horrendous scars she'd ever seen from top to bottom. Gnarly-looking field dressings and metal plates patched up injuries that would have sent a soldier home with a purple heart.
She covered her mouth from gasping out a sob, tears in her eyes. Even wounded soldiers and veterans she'd met—from traveling from one military base to another in her youth—had never been through so much combat to earn those types of injuries and scars.
From their hiding spot, she was at least glad that the scarred man was facing just enough away so he had that tiny shred of privacy from her gaze.
Finally, she was able to turn her head away and pulled her eyes back up to Jimmy. Even her friend's face was contorted in shock and sympathy.
What kind of a world is this? These people are absolutely insane.
—T&J—
Nicholas the Punisher was now on the job.
When the explosions started, his sixth sense blared that his target would not be far behind.
And he wasn't even that surprised when said target did him a favor and unwittingly ran right into his hands. Or that a typhoon followed in his wake.
What Wolfwood should have anticipated but didn't was the imposter stalking close behind.
Wolfwood got a good enough glimpse of the blonde man called Eriks. He wasn't sure if he caught a spark of recognition in the other man's eyes or not. It made him wonder.
The Punisher finished his entire glass of whiskey like a shot. The burn of the liquor was a dull flame down his throat that spread all the way to his toes.
The man called Eriks stepped back out of the saloon with a determined gait. Wolfwood merely followed with a turn of his head until the other man walked down the porch steps. He grabbed his heavy cross to bear and strode over to a now glassless window.
He lit a cigarette and became a watchful observer. His keen attention didn't miss the unusually dressed duo hiding behind the barrels outside his window perch.
New spectators to this theater, coming to witness the scene play out, huh?
And how will Mop Head resolve this predicament? Show me how a gutless ghost like you can end this.
—L&P—
Eriks, who loved Lina like his sister, would do anything to keep her safe. And so, without any hesitation, did as the imposter demanded.
Strip his physical clothes—become nothing less than a lower lifeform. What was one more instance of stripping his sense of humanity compared to all the other instances?
He'd at least take some control and dignity back, undressing himself rather than being stripped by the hands of heartless strangers.
No, he corrected himself. No one could be completely heartless.
He could imagine the lives these men had led. Abused and neglected both in youth and into adulthood. Trying to survive in an unforgiving land. Their towns, withering away after having their Plants stolen. Fighting over what little resources were left. Seeing family and neighbors suffer and die because they weren't ruthless or strong enough.
A cycle of struggle, poverty, and hopelessness.
Turning men into the worst versions of themselves, unrecognizable by those who might've loved them once. Never at peace with themselves or their world.
The man called Eriks let these men see for themselves his soul bared as his body was bared. Perhaps they would see a bit of themselves in him—ugly and lonely and suffering the hurt of the world like them all.
He lowered himself to hand and knees and begged with his heart to them—please find that tiny flicker of compassion and let the girl go.
Spare a child her innocence—for that innocence was all she had in hope for a brighter tomorrow. Until it was ripped away inevitably.
His body and soul were mere shadows in the brightness of her life's light.
—L&P—
And so the scarred man went down to his knees like an animal. The true animals stood before him, though. Creatures who lacked the humanity that made men human.
Something began to build inside Lois—a storm of emotions, empathy for this man's plight, and fury at those who would destroy and assault and laugh while doing so.
That's what those creatures did now. They all laughed like cackling hyenas.
Well, the most human of them all, who was barking and pretending to chase his non-existent tail, gave them exactly what they wanted. What now?
The laughter died down, and the grunts hauled themselves back onto their master's vehicle. The driver revved the engine, unleashing arrogant, beastial roars. The thugs whooped in delight.
However, the one they called Vash had one last parting gift to give.
A gunshot rang out like thunder, drowning out the vehicle's revving for barely a second. The bullet pierced the air and the naked body of the man willing to endure for the sake of another.
Another—the young girl who dashed out of the saloon to the aid of her guardian angel.
"Eriks!" she cried, fat tears in her eyes. She collapsed by his side.
He'd fallen backward and then rolled in pain to his side, his back facing Lois. His glasses had flung off his face, clattering a few feet away.
Lois's storm raged. She also leaped up from behind the barrels to the blonde man's side. Jimmy startled, reaching out to hold her back, but he was too slow. She heard him hiss her name, but it was white noise to her ears.
Lois, unabashed at the shot man's state of undress, flew into trauma medic mode. She immediately put pressure on the gunshot wound and called out for help from anyone inside the bar.
The rev of the tank engine growled again. Those monsters are still here?!
The young girl at her side snapped her head up, and a second later, she yelled. The vehicle flew by as one man holding on and leaning out the side, scooped the small girl up in his gangly arms. The girl screamed and fought the man like a rabid animal—kicking, scratching, and biting. But the man held on despite that, and the tank rolled away, heading back towards the town gate.
The blonde man groaned and tried to sit up. Tears in his aqua-blue eyes, he tried to yell out for the girl. "L-Lina…" he managed in barely a whisper, his bloodied hand reaching out and then falling limply to the sandy street.
—T&J—