Nicholas D. Wolfwood

[Voice]

Looks like we're being led around by a rope, like usual. But you gotta' wonder—what good will it do to rile us all up into wanting to fight, into learning how to fight? Or have they forgotten that most of Luceti wants them either dead, or drinking through a straw? Either way, it's pretty incredible that they can't hold back these enemies, and yet we can kill them on the battlefield. Us, people who are trapped here, who can't even fight a gang of robots from dragging us off.

It's all topsy-turvy, isn't it?

[And while he's here... well, might as well take his mind off things for a little while to address a certain grumpy-faced child...]

[[Filtered to 'Katie' // 70% Unhackable]]

Hey, kid—can I talk to you, or would you rather just glare at me for a minute?

[Said without a trace of malice, of course, because Wolfwood has a hard time throwing that around kids; actually, he's far too curious about how she did it, than the fact that she tossed him for no real known reason toward what could've been his second death.]

[Action]

[All that said and done, he's got practicing to do. He's been hoarding up on his ammo, but knowing they'll supply him with more is a relief; he goes to the battle dome and proceeds to shoot apart whatever the simulation throws at him: guys with angel wings? Their weak points are those. Those big-ass things, right there. And they're significantly easy to shoot down when you just go for one of them. But then, he also practices on people he's used to shooting: guys with guns.

Swivel cross. Block bullets. Fire back from behind Punisher. It's all ingrained into his mind as clear as anything else he's ever learned. Except where his shots normally tear through vital organs, a lot of his targets instead are hit where they couldn't use their guns anymore—arms, and then legs, all meticulous. Some are killed. He notes it, acknowledges it, and makes no effort to correct himself for it.

When he walks out of the battle dome, his cross is significantly lighter. He'll take the time to drop by the Good Spirits and drink equally light, draw out a cigarette and light it, wait until the light outside's gone and find himself too awake to return home just yet. So he sits in the forest against a rock, arms folded while he barks sharply to his empty left-hand side:]

Are you going to teach me more or not?

[He returns home with a few little burns here and there, as expected. But at least he can create bigger blasts of fire. It's more than he was hoping for. Somewhere in this day, he fancies he'll have to talk to Vash about what's to come.]

[Morning ritual: sit up groggily, smoke a cigarette, kick stupid cat back out of bed after the umpteenth time. Fortunately, he'd managed to not want to pop Vash's head off his shoulders today, so he takes this as a good sign. And after he manages to regain his thoughts and get some breakfast in him, he cracks open his journal to see what's what.]

[[Filtered from Legato//100% Unhackable by Nami  see Vash he said he was working on it |D ]]

So there's a shitload of new people... Hard to think I've been here this long, but you veterans probably snicker at a few measly months, right? [The sound of smoke leaving him, and it's obvious now he's been at the same usual bad habit.] Good to see these new guys got to miss the crappier part of this place, at least.

[And a charmingly added:]

It's not so bad when you get used to it, promise.

[Wolfwood really didn't find too much eventful this fine morning—it was a little chilly out, so he coiled himself in a black scarf, but... it was strangely relaxed today. It's something he feels ill-prepared for, even. Along his route of wandering, the preacher-man happened into the item shop on an interesting day; he'd spent so much time referring to the dangers of his world, he didn't consider that the neutral or even... nice things would snake their way into Luceti.

As such, he found a small weathered chest the that he could carry under one arm—a familiar one.

He drags it out, sits on a bench, and inspects it... and the first thing he happens across is a picture. He's not sure whether to burn it or laugh, so he just looks at it for a moment, noting the withered edges and shitty weathering. What a blast from the past. Like looking into the face of time.

He can be found here by whoever wants to be a creeper, or on his way back home with his cross on one shoulder and this small chest on the other. Clearly, he works out. But alas! Something slips out of the back of the chest without him noticing and floats quietly down to the ground.]

[Wolfwood was neutral about Halloween, really—while he thought the get-up was interesting, there was no way in hell he was going to run around in a costume. Well, when he finally did decide to brave the outside...!

Oh. Just a traditional priest uniform with a nice coat and a cool cross rosary. How damn lucky of him. Maybe this weird Halloween event won't be so bad after all yeah, see you in six days, Wolfwood. So he'll just be walking around looking less chest-flashy and more man-of-godly, but the cigarette and signature cross is still present. Actually, come to think of it, a priest walking around dark settings always sets a spooky mood, right? Someone really should show him The Exorcist sometime.

When he finally does turn on the guide, he's sitting on a bench noting the interesting decor around the plaza.]

So, anyone lucky enough not to get embarrassing costumes?

[He grins, puffing on a cigarette.]

I haven't worn one of these in years. The collar'll drive me crazy by the time this is over, I swear—but it doesn't seem like I can get rid of it.

I'm guessing it's the same for everyone else, eh?

[Oh, and btw, Kuroneko's lingering nearby dressed in this, too.]