[The good thing about Frank is that he keeps Marc on his toes so at least he won't let his guard down, and in a sudden survival situation like this, it's for the best. Despite their ongoing feud or whatever you want to call it these days, Marc doesn't want to see the guy bleed out in the middle of nowhere, helpless and undignified. Frank Castle is a prick but he isn't a terrible person by all standards.
Marc opts to get rid of the mask covering his face, the armored cloth slipping away like nothing and exposing his head to the elements. In truth, he's finding it more difficult to breathe deeply, and this helps. Still, his expression is hardened and steady as he regards Frank, ignoring the depth of the dank cave in his peripheral.]
Yeah, yeah, I know. [Marc still isn't sure if being a marine has helped gain at least a little respect in Castle's eyes, but they have more in common than either wants to admit. He scoots up closer, finding the source of the bleeding and pressing both hands onto it hard, not letting up despite how much it likely hurts.] I told you you should've grabbed a chute before that mess. You never listen to me.
[Not the time to argue about this shit but Marc can't help himself.]
[ As soon as he feels Marc's hand slide into place, he releases the bottom clip of the vest. Kevlar can stop a lot but not everywhere. Son of a bitch. He nearly doubles over and coughs. Frank pushes himself to undo the entire vest and tear it off over his head. Blood smears across the black skull painted onto the white shirt beneath, Frank's chest visibly struggling to keep taking in as many deep breaths as he is. Parachute might have slowed him a little. ]
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I'm sorry, Marc, not you, but fuck you...
[ He growls and laughs, it's completely manic. An animal caught in a bear trap that is fighting through the pain. Twisting away he drags the survival pack from around him and hastily takes out a roll of gauze, wrapping an impossibly long bundle around his trembling fingers before pulling it off. He turns to look up at Marc, somehow caught off guard like he's seeing his face within the suit for the first time. Not this close and being helpful. ]
Alright, Marine. You didn't kill me. Awesome. You got a few seconds. Shirt up, put this against the wound, wrap as fast as you can. Then when I catch my breath I'm gonna fuckin' strangle you...
[Marc keeps his eyes trained on Frank while he laughs like he's losing his mind already, and there's a quip on the tip of his tongue about the pot meeting kettle in this scenario, but he holds back, simply because he's more focused on the amount of blood that has soaked through. He isn't used to seeing The Punisher in white to begin with and he has a good feeling it's because of how much blood he's usually covered in on a daily basis.
He hasn't dealt with wounds like this in a long time - the benefit of being so stab-proof with Khonshu's help - but he's remembering vividly of what it was like when he was still in service. Good thing Frank has a pack readily available, and Marc doesn't argue when he gets some orders, as much as it's killing him not to tell Frank to shut up. The man is this close to bleeding out, after all.
He carefully lifts Frank's shirt up, peeling it away from the sticky blood and wound before taking over with the gauze. He's had to wrap up others before, in and out of his time with the marines, and seems to get the tape around Frank with practiced swiftness. He makes sure it's tight enough before tying off the end, moments later sitting back on his haunches, palms covered in blood.]
We should clean that when we can or you'll get an infection. [But for now at least the flow has been dealt with. Marc can't help but raise a brow over at Frank, a little taunting:] Waiting for that strangling now, I'm ready.
[ It's the pressure that he thought would feel the worse. Why does he always forget? As soon as the tape and gauze are tight again him, he lets out a slow breath. The adrenaline is still running high. Frank brings a hand to his side and then looks at his fingers again. Hell of a fuckin' show there. He drops his head back against the cave wall. Unfortunately for Marc, there's no slowing this guy down. He immediately begins to get back on his feet (or try). A bloody hand print is left smeared against black rock. ]
Yeah, yeah, in a minute, will you? Infection be fucked, I'm headed in further...
[Slowly, Marc gets to his feet and while Frank says he wants to delve in deeper, Marc stays put. He can't help but naturally glance outside, the snow a relentless force that would surely do them in before anything else, but the other end of this is a dark cave, and he isn't exactly cool with that.]
Do you even have a light? Last I checked neither of us have night vision.
[Okay, maybe Marc technically does with the suit, but Frank doesn't need to know that. He takes a deep, calming breath then, though it does absolutely nothing to calm the way his pulse is racing.]
[ While that pet name could be kind of endearing, it's still said with that same venom of Frank's. Marc isn't wrong, they are just walking into the gaping maw of a void here. It could drop off into a bit of spikes and bones for all they knew. Well, one of them would fair better off. Frank struggles with the pack again and takes out a mag light, thankfully not shattered during the fall. The light flickered until he smacks it and a sharp steady beam crosses into the darkness. ]
[Marc truly cannot think of a worse predicament to be in right now. Maybe if they were being pursued by someone - or something - that would definitely take the cake, but wandering further into a dark cave with Frank so ready to go in deeper is not his idea of a good time. It isn't even that he's with Frank, per se, but he can't help but feel an oncoming sense of panic at the thought of going even five feet deeper and away from the freedom of outside.
Of course Frank has a light and if Marc suddenly isn't in his usual accommodating mood, he isn't in a spot to explain why. Having a panic attack in front of the other would be pretty bad (not to mention embarrassing) so he sucks it up the best he can, even as he feels a little foggy all of a sudden. He knows Steven is lingering nearby, sensing something wrong.]
I'm not- ...afraid. [The word comes out a bit delayed but Marc clenches his fists at his sides and tries to brave on anyway, even though it's not a good idea for his psyche. Still, he's lingering a few feet behind Frank, hood flying back on in an instant, and when he speaks his voice is a bit strained:] But if a bear eats your face I won't say I told you so.
[ It's that hesitation that makes him stop for a moment, actually listen to the way Marc is talking. Alright, neither of them are in a really good situation right now and making it worse obviously won't fix anything. The most he can do is get them a little further in, even if it means sitting in the dark and huddling for warmth until the howling winds stop. Yet, as much as being in pain and in the middle of nowhere angers him, a part of him drops the barrier.
Maybe it's because he's heard the same lie before. Maybe not about the dark, maybe about something else intangible, from a voice that wants to be braver, stronger. He drops his hand from the wall and carries on, shaking his head. Didn't help having been a dad sometimes. ]
I'll take the risk. Pretty sure you could tell that story at your next party. If it helps... caves like this usually pinch off a mile in, or worm into a tunnel system we can't fit through. Just goin' until we stop feelin' a breeze. Okay? There's nothin' in the dark.
[If Marc was in a more calm state of mind he would recognize that Frank is actually trying to do him a favor here by being kind, not berating him for his sudden shift in behavior, and it seems like he's actually trying to lessen the direness of the situation to make him feel better. Frank has no idea why Marc wants to run out the other way, why his chest gradually feels so tight he can barely breathe, and with every step further it feels like his legs are made of lead.]
Yeah... Yeah. [He tries to brush it off and listen to the logic here but he just can't handle it, can't cope, his world zeroing in on a singular memory he literally cannot deal with. There's no water here, no immediate danger, but he can still hear the panicked sounds of terrified children echoing off the walls and his head is positively swimming -
Marc doesn't have a chance to warn Frank at all, the shift happening just like that. Steven takes over without hesitation, his entire suit changing with him. Steven only half understands what's going on (it isn't always so clear when he isn't in the body) and he looks around with a confused spin or two, eyes falling onto Frank nearby.]
Wha- Oh, hiya, did we get away from that blasted copter after all? [The confusion is clear but he seems otherwise unbothered by the current state of things, though his eyes fall to Frank's side and his eyes widen almost comically.] Mate, you're bleeding!
[ Now he stops dead, eyes staring straight ahead into the darkness and whatever he can make of the walls. It really is like crawling down a throat, decades and centuries of storms weathering the rock away in rutted layers. Steven Grant. Who else? The one he's not drag into this kind of shit, let alone never having gotten the formal pleasure of meeting. He looks over his shoulder.
What the hell did he expect? Frank frowns and turns his back along the wall to face him. A hand goes to the bloody side, but thankfully it's completely numb now. He let's out an exasperated laugh. Is this how it works? The suit is a bit... extra. But with the accent, what he's read in the man's tone through text, it fits too well. ]
Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Your friend helped me with that. It's...
[ He narrows his eyes as if trying to see through the voice, the suit, and to the face. He knows it's just another Marc Spector's stupid face under there, but different. A completely unaware personality. How does it work? ]
[Vaguely, Steven recalls some fighting and chaos, followed by a very long ride in the air, but he was pushed to the back and didn't really see what came of that, or the accident that followed. It's strange sometimes being inside while very much "awake" but with Marc in control, and he tends to hide a lot from Steven, even now, even though they've come to a better understanding these days.
He recognizes Frank almost immediately even though they've never met. That skull motif is kind of a dead giveaway, and Marc doesn't hang out with many other vigilante types these days, willingly or otherwise.]
Unless there's a new Skull-Man in town running around like a madman, I'm certain I know who you are. [He's clearly feeling a lot more lighthearted than Marc was, though his lack of understanding of their situation is dawning on him, suddenly aware of the chill as he folds his arms across his chest and rubs at his upper arms.] Where the bloody hell are we?
[ So it was that easy? Huh. That was sort of a load of Frank's shoulders. Marc can strangle him later about being some terrible influence but it was his fault his control had slipped. At least Steven at least seems a but more enthusiastic about - everything? He shakes his head and finally pushes from the wall to keep going, now expecting Mr. Knight to keep up. The beam of the flashlight swings a bit wildly as he staggers along, only able to right himself once he gets used to how unbalanced he is. ]
Great White North. Middle of nowhere.
[ There, he can finally walk in a straight line. Still nothing different about the rest of this place the further they go, wind dying down only slightly. Frank feels the blood crystalizing on his gloves, stiffening them, and along the bare skin under his sleeve. Fuckin' unpleasant. ]
Nice to finally meet you, by the way. Sorry I can't shake your hand...
[It's certainly disconcerting to wake up in the freezing cold with a known killer at his side but from what few conversations they have shared, Steven hasn't had a reason to think Frank is much different than the other crazed blokes who put on costumes and go on rampages through the city (for good). That doesn't mean he likes or agrees with his methods whatsoever, but in some twisted way Steven understands his mission, thanks to Marc.
As he takes in his surroundings it quickly dawns on him why Marc was so quick to hide away, a pang in his own chest at the thought of him getting triggered here of all places. Frank seems relatively calm about Steven coming out though he's sure it's a bit weird.]
It's alright, you seem to have more pressing matters on your hands. [Though Steven is noticing the strained way Frank is walking, and although he may not know how he got into this shape, he can clue in that Marc felt safe enough to come in here with him so... Steven tries to hold onto that fact.]
Well, I suppose we both do... I don't suppose you have a handy-dandy instant firepit in that arsenal of yours, do you? There's only so much you can fit in a belt.
[ Finally, he can see the cave beginning to slope. It's faint but he can hear Steven's voice become slightly less echoed, more contained. More annoying. That's not fair. Perhaps the adrenaline and its hyperawareness is what's driving him into the noise in his head. Steven's voice is the only thing that pulls him back, refocuses his eyes. Alright, it's taken a good ten or fifteen minutes but he feels a little less crazy again. ]
Hmm? I have two flares, a box of waterproof matches, but nothing to kindle. This isn't a live-in cave so all we have are rocks. I wish I...
[ His voice isn't even sarcastic. The more he talks, the more he can hear Steven talk, the better he can control himself in this worst case scenario. And the cave slopes even sharper, enough for him to reach up and brush the rock with his fingertips. The wind appears to be quieter. Another sharper slope and the beam of light bounces back, nearly blinds him. He shuts it off and turns to stare into the glow of Steven's mask. ]
Was Marc afraid of the dark? Is that why he... left?
[Steven is acutely aware of how unwell Frank must be. He wasn't here for the main event but that's a lot of blood all over his clothes and the bandage keeping it all together, not to mention his hands. His own survival skills are poor compared to Marc's but he has enough understanding to know they will need some kind of warmth - and soon - before they begin to solidify down in this dank cave.
At least there's an end to the tunnel though and it doesn't feel quite as claustrophobic with that knowledge. Still, it appears he's going to have to take on much of the evening here, and he can't even be upset with Marc over that fact.
He's rubbing at his arms again and the question catches him off guard, regarding Frank with that same blank stare thanks to the mask, but his body language is telling enough. His shoulders sag a bit with a sigh and he shakes his head, a little fidgety.]
Not the dark, no. I think it was... the cave itself. Long story. [Peering over toward the path they came from, he can barely see any lingering light from the outside.] I think you're far nicer than Marc lets on, but I'm not sure how much he shares with you on a good day.
[ Long story, yeah. People like Marc and Frank always got a long story buried in there somewhere. He makes a sound of agreement and unhooks his belt. It clatter to the rock floor and he follows it slowly down. The mag light makes a loud, metallic clink as well, probably hitting hard enough to break. Frank doesn't care. He sits in silence as he slowly puts the padded vest back on. Hurts like hell but as soon as he tightens the bottom strap and the lightning bolt of pain subsides... he sighs with relief. ]
Let's see. I know his name, know he's from Brooklyn, I guess. He's Jewish, but that was more about my own digging around because I'm a nosy bastard. The only reason I know about you is because you began texting me one day, demanding answers.
[ He grunts and shifts back against the wall. With the pain compressed, he suddenly begins to feel how fucking cold it really is. Now he pats the stone floor for Steven to join him. Even if it's still a big gesture. Maybe this guy has a clearer head. Those two wide moonlit eyes don't seem very threatening. ]
[Frank must have a high pain tolerance, Steven thinks, because as he watches him strap the vest back on even he can't help but wince out of empathy. Steven has experienced being punched, stabbed, and shot at this point in his life, but never in a life-threatening manner thanks to the suit. It almost feels like cheating in comparison to this.
He listens carefully, curious about the Brooklyn comment, wondering if maybe Marc is still being guarded about certain details. He opts not to make any corrections though and instead nods along, wondering how long it would've been before Steven ever spoke to Frank if he hadn't texted his number.]
Well, it isn't every day I find human remains in my flat. [He mutters a bit, and after a moment's hesitation he comes over to sit beside Frank, keeping an eye on him all the while.]
Don't think either of us has a choice on that today. [Steven lets out an amused breath, huddled up where he's seated as he leans forward on his elbows a bit.] Can- Can I do anything to help you? You're not going to bleed out in here are you?
( I don't even know why *I* said Brooklyn? It was late. )
[ He forces himself to breath out his nose, heavy and loud as it is, just to seem like he's doing fine. The worst is over, honestly. Storms come and go and he can set up a flare when the sun is down. He could tell all of this to Steven, ease his mind, even Marc's if he has some way of listening in on the conversations. Instead he looks away and stares up at the ceiling. Rather, at nothing. ]
I'll be honest with you, no idea. I've got as much compression on it as I can get... Right now I just gotta keep breathin'. Feels hard but that's below-zero for you. Ha.
[ He closes his eyes and for a moment, is completely silent. Just thinking and listening. Then Frank sucks in a breath and tilts his head, giving Steven a smile. It's genuine and completely out of character, but next to this iota of warmth, the Punisher persona doesn't really have to take the reins. ]
Talkin' helps. Uh, tell me... tell me about you. I don't know you. Steven Grant.
haha it's all good, i'm cool hand waving it as marc just being a distrusting ass
[The severity of their situation is gradually dawning on Steven and he hopes that they will manage to get out of here in one piece, and that maybe Marc will feel well enough eventually to take over again. He is so not equipped to handle the elements even with a man like Frank Castle at his side, though he is doing his best to exude calm at the moment. Steven may run his mouth when he's nervous but he at least knows how to read a room. Or... cave.
He can see much better in the dark with the help of Khonshu's powers, glowing eyes turned toward Frank, and while the mask is rather emotionless his body language speaks loud and clear, the worry and cold taking over him quite quickly. He's hunched where he sits, shivering at Frank's side, though at the sight of a genuine smile he opts to play along.]
I'm not sure there's much to say. I've always been awful at talking about myself. You know those dreadful icebreakers they make you do at work events sometimes, for bonding? Like, "tell us what you do and a fun fact about your life" sort of thing? Bloody awful. I'd always make something up, could never think of anything interesting enough.
[Oh, hell... he's rambling about the wrong thing and he knows it, taking a step back before he continues with a less rushed tone:]
Maybe I should ask if there's something you want to know? That might be better.
[ Steven was at least endearing. A breath of fresh air from Marc Spector, although the statement wasn't very fair. Two in the same, one in the same. Ah, no, still the clarity talking. But Frank would be lying if he said he was annoyed, or that the talking wasn't helping. As one came down from such a pain, even with a high tolerance, the world seems to fall away. Steven is keeping him grounded, even with the rambling.
Marc... refuses to talk. They're not friends. One doesn't owe the other. Competitors at best, street fights at 3AM at their worst. Yeah, he can see why he'd be a bad influence. Frank laughs at nothing and winces, leaning forward to mirror little cave friend. ]
Twenty questions in a cave in the middle of a hurricane... Alright. Easy one first. What's with the suit, man? You look like a mobster.
[If talking helps then Steven is more than happy to accommodate, especially because he realizes it's helping keep his own focus off of how bloody cold it is. At the question he looks down at aforementioned suit, hands patting his knees and rubbing there too now, wishing that he could conjure up a blanket or two out of nowhere too. That would be very, very nice.]
What do you mean? I think I look quite good. [He momentarily takes the time to adjust his tie as well, though pretty soon after he's huddled up again.] I guess my mind couldn't think of something quite as dramatic as Marc's suit. Really, the cape is a bit much, don't you think?
[There's a smile in his voice despite the chattering of his teeth, though he thinks Marc enjoys a flair of the drama more than he lets on.]
It- It's the same as what he wears, just... my own. A good way to tell us apart, I suppose. [A pause, before adding:] That isn't an invitation to shoot me to test it out, just FYI.
[ If this were happening, say, anywhere else, it'd actually be a very nice moment. The kind where you crack open a beer and put aside your differences for a few hours, shoot the shit. It's what keeps Frank smiling, even if it strains through the pain and the cold. Frank flexes his fingers and scratches under his chin, then rubs at his jaw. He can't feel how cold he is but it all feels numb. The air is still here and it's much easier to let their own breath and body heat level out.
Slowly, he adjusts himself and... reaches a hand out to grip Steven's shoulder. Heavy, warm, could and has broken necks. Far too close for comfort, eh? Frank steadies himself against the other man as he lifts his weight and scoots closer until they're right next to each other. Better. Frank is more dressed for this weather, that little mob suit isn't. But also, fucking ow. He lets out a grunt, air forming a brief cloud in the mask's glow. He wonders if he left a bloody handprint behind. ]
Ugh. Don't worry, you're too nice to shoot. Where- oh. The cape is a bit much, but trust me, I'm the regular guy runnin' around with a skull painted on his chest. Now, if I had a deity to use as an excuse... Anubis, maybe? Not sure that mutt would agree with my type of judgement.
[As Frank begins to shift closer, Steven feels a sense of ease in knowing he isn't alone, relieved that Frank is still speaking and breathing. He isn't sure what he'd do if the man passed out - probably have a panic attack of his own trying to revive him. Still, the hand on his shoulder is startlingly warm and it reminds Steven of how damn cold he is, naturally leaning in closer. If their sides begin to touch, Steven doesn't shift away to fix that contact.
He smiles under his mask at being called nice, though Frank makes a good point about the skull. At least he's self aware.]
Honestly, I think Khonshu would adore you. You only kill "bad" people, right? [He adds the quotation marks in the air for good measure.] Carry out vengeance against those who would do harm to others, etc. etc. You'd probably fit right in with the crazy ol' bird.
He seems like a bit of a stingy employer. Uh, no offense. If he can me through... you, or wherever the hell he is.
[ Frank gestures to the open cave before that arm goes around Steven's shoulders. Stark white suit isn't going to keep him warm and he's long since put aside any awkwardness that comes with being two guys staring possible death in the face. The chattering and trembling is obvious. Frank half expects to be told the suit would actually keep him warm as well as completely freezing to death, and what he's doing is anything but helping. More benefits of an avatar, surely. ]
How does it work? Khonshu tells you guys where to go and what to do? I swear he's spying on me because when I say it's competitive... Doesn't matter. I'd actually offer working together with Marc but someone else must have mapped out downtown for him. Besides, sometimes it's... well, you know someone is a monster, right? But no one else can do anything about it. Whispers, rumors, or there wasn't enough evidence. Those are the people I think deserve it most.
[ Ah, yes talking about murder, all huddled up. Comfy, cozy. ]
I should have looked for a parachute, could have fuckin' burned it...
[Oh, Khonshu can hear all of this alright. The bird only pops up when he feels like it but Steven can hear his grumblings as well, having learned to ignore them a long time ago. Steven has to laugh some at Frank calling him stingy though, agreeing wholeheartedly.
He's a bit tense when Frank first gets his arm around him but Steven soon understands what's really happening here, and he's all for it in the name of survival. Even with the layers of Kevlar between them he can feel the warmth of Frank's body against the otherwise freezing layer of his suit, so he has no qualms about huddling up against his side, together. Marc is going to have an absolute field day when he hears about this.]
O- Occasionally. He's very... encouraging. [The chattering isn't letting off just yet but Steven powers through it. Talking is certainly a good distraction.] Marc takes care of all that ugly business, I help out sometimes. More when he needs an extra brain.
[He laughs under his breath a bit and even through the mask his breath is visible, just faintly in front of him. It does feel very surreal with this topic though, especially when Frank sheds more light on his own reasoning.]
What if you're wrong though? What if rumors were just... rumors?
[He glances over to him then, curious about the logic there. Steven doesn't agree with either him or Marc's judgment when it comes to what they do, when it comes to actual killing, but he's learned long ago he can't influence stubbornness out of any man in this "profession."]
M- Maybe I should go find... something. We're in the woods, yeah? I'm sure I can f- figure it out.
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Marc opts to get rid of the mask covering his face, the armored cloth slipping away like nothing and exposing his head to the elements. In truth, he's finding it more difficult to breathe deeply, and this helps. Still, his expression is hardened and steady as he regards Frank, ignoring the depth of the dank cave in his peripheral.]
Yeah, yeah, I know. [Marc still isn't sure if being a marine has helped gain at least a little respect in Castle's eyes, but they have more in common than either wants to admit. He scoots up closer, finding the source of the bleeding and pressing both hands onto it hard, not letting up despite how much it likely hurts.] I told you you should've grabbed a chute before that mess. You never listen to me.
[Not the time to argue about this shit but Marc can't help himself.]
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Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I'm sorry, Marc, not you, but fuck you...
[ He growls and laughs, it's completely manic. An animal caught in a bear trap that is fighting through the pain. Twisting away he drags the survival pack from around him and hastily takes out a roll of gauze, wrapping an impossibly long bundle around his trembling fingers before pulling it off. He turns to look up at Marc, somehow caught off guard like he's seeing his face within the suit for the first time. Not this close and being helpful. ]
Alright, Marine. You didn't kill me. Awesome. You got a few seconds. Shirt up, put this against the wound, wrap as fast as you can. Then when I catch my breath I'm gonna fuckin' strangle you...
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He hasn't dealt with wounds like this in a long time - the benefit of being so stab-proof with Khonshu's help - but he's remembering vividly of what it was like when he was still in service. Good thing Frank has a pack readily available, and Marc doesn't argue when he gets some orders, as much as it's killing him not to tell Frank to shut up. The man is this close to bleeding out, after all.
He carefully lifts Frank's shirt up, peeling it away from the sticky blood and wound before taking over with the gauze. He's had to wrap up others before, in and out of his time with the marines, and seems to get the tape around Frank with practiced swiftness. He makes sure it's tight enough before tying off the end, moments later sitting back on his haunches, palms covered in blood.]
We should clean that when we can or you'll get an infection. [But for now at least the flow has been dealt with. Marc can't help but raise a brow over at Frank, a little taunting:] Waiting for that strangling now, I'm ready.
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Yeah, yeah, in a minute, will you? Infection be fucked, I'm headed in further...
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Do you even have a light? Last I checked neither of us have night vision.
[Okay, maybe Marc technically does with the suit, but Frank doesn't need to know that. He takes a deep, calming breath then, though it does absolutely nothing to calm the way his pulse is racing.]
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[ While that pet name could be kind of endearing, it's still said with that same venom of Frank's. Marc isn't wrong, they are just walking into the gaping maw of a void here. It could drop off into a bit of spikes and bones for all they knew. Well, one of them would fair better off. Frank struggles with the pack again and takes out a mag light, thankfully not shattered during the fall. The light flickered until he smacks it and a sharp steady beam crosses into the darkness. ]
See? No monsters. Keep your cool.
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Of course Frank has a light and if Marc suddenly isn't in his usual accommodating mood, he isn't in a spot to explain why. Having a panic attack in front of the other would be pretty bad (not to mention embarrassing) so he sucks it up the best he can, even as he feels a little foggy all of a sudden. He knows Steven is lingering nearby, sensing something wrong.]
I'm not- ...afraid. [The word comes out a bit delayed but Marc clenches his fists at his sides and tries to brave on anyway, even though it's not a good idea for his psyche. Still, he's lingering a few feet behind Frank, hood flying back on in an instant, and when he speaks his voice is a bit strained:] But if a bear eats your face I won't say I told you so.
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Maybe it's because he's heard the same lie before. Maybe not about the dark, maybe about something else intangible, from a voice that wants to be braver, stronger. He drops his hand from the wall and carries on, shaking his head. Didn't help having been a dad sometimes. ]
I'll take the risk. Pretty sure you could tell that story at your next party. If it helps... caves like this usually pinch off a mile in, or worm into a tunnel system we can't fit through. Just goin' until we stop feelin' a breeze. Okay? There's nothin' in the dark.
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Yeah... Yeah. [He tries to brush it off and listen to the logic here but he just can't handle it, can't cope, his world zeroing in on a singular memory he literally cannot deal with. There's no water here, no immediate danger, but he can still hear the panicked sounds of terrified children echoing off the walls and his head is positively swimming -
Marc doesn't have a chance to warn Frank at all, the shift happening just like that. Steven takes over without hesitation, his entire suit changing with him. Steven only half understands what's going on (it isn't always so clear when he isn't in the body) and he looks around with a confused spin or two, eyes falling onto Frank nearby.]
Wha- Oh, hiya, did we get away from that blasted copter after all? [The confusion is clear but he seems otherwise unbothered by the current state of things, though his eyes fall to Frank's side and his eyes widen almost comically.] Mate, you're bleeding!
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What the hell did he expect? Frank frowns and turns his back along the wall to face him. A hand goes to the bloody side, but thankfully it's completely numb now. He let's out an exasperated laugh. Is this how it works? The suit is a bit... extra. But with the accent, what he's read in the man's tone through text, it fits too well. ]
Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Your friend helped me with that. It's...
[ He narrows his eyes as if trying to see through the voice, the suit, and to the face. He knows it's just another Marc Spector's stupid face under there, but different. A completely unaware personality. How does it work? ]
Do you... know who I am?
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He recognizes Frank almost immediately even though they've never met. That skull motif is kind of a dead giveaway, and Marc doesn't hang out with many other vigilante types these days, willingly or otherwise.]
Unless there's a new Skull-Man in town running around like a madman, I'm certain I know who you are. [He's clearly feeling a lot more lighthearted than Marc was, though his lack of understanding of their situation is dawning on him, suddenly aware of the chill as he folds his arms across his chest and rubs at his upper arms.] Where the bloody hell are we?
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Great White North. Middle of nowhere.
[ There, he can finally walk in a straight line. Still nothing different about the rest of this place the further they go, wind dying down only slightly. Frank feels the blood crystalizing on his gloves, stiffening them, and along the bare skin under his sleeve. Fuckin' unpleasant. ]
Nice to finally meet you, by the way. Sorry I can't shake your hand...
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As he takes in his surroundings it quickly dawns on him why Marc was so quick to hide away, a pang in his own chest at the thought of him getting triggered here of all places. Frank seems relatively calm about Steven coming out though he's sure it's a bit weird.]
It's alright, you seem to have more pressing matters on your hands. [Though Steven is noticing the strained way Frank is walking, and although he may not know how he got into this shape, he can clue in that Marc felt safe enough to come in here with him so... Steven tries to hold onto that fact.]
Well, I suppose we both do... I don't suppose you have a handy-dandy instant firepit in that arsenal of yours, do you? There's only so much you can fit in a belt.
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Hmm? I have two flares, a box of waterproof matches, but nothing to kindle. This isn't a live-in cave so all we have are rocks. I wish I...
[ His voice isn't even sarcastic. The more he talks, the more he can hear Steven talk, the better he can control himself in this worst case scenario. And the cave slopes even sharper, enough for him to reach up and brush the rock with his fingertips. The wind appears to be quieter. Another sharper slope and the beam of light bounces back, nearly blinds him. He shuts it off and turns to stare into the glow of Steven's mask. ]
Was Marc afraid of the dark? Is that why he... left?
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At least there's an end to the tunnel though and it doesn't feel quite as claustrophobic with that knowledge. Still, it appears he's going to have to take on much of the evening here, and he can't even be upset with Marc over that fact.
He's rubbing at his arms again and the question catches him off guard, regarding Frank with that same blank stare thanks to the mask, but his body language is telling enough. His shoulders sag a bit with a sigh and he shakes his head, a little fidgety.]
Not the dark, no. I think it was... the cave itself. Long story. [Peering over toward the path they came from, he can barely see any lingering light from the outside.] I think you're far nicer than Marc lets on, but I'm not sure how much he shares with you on a good day.
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Let's see. I know his name, know he's from Brooklyn, I guess. He's Jewish, but that was more about my own digging around because I'm a nosy bastard. The only reason I know about you is because you began texting me one day, demanding answers.
[ He grunts and shifts back against the wall. With the pain compressed, he suddenly begins to feel how fucking cold it really is. Now he pats the stone floor for Steven to join him. Even if it's still a big gesture. Maybe this guy has a clearer head. Those two wide moonlit eyes don't seem very threatening. ]
You know, I'm not supposed to be talkin' to you.
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He listens carefully, curious about the Brooklyn comment, wondering if maybe Marc is still being guarded about certain details. He opts not to make any corrections though and instead nods along, wondering how long it would've been before Steven ever spoke to Frank if he hadn't texted his number.]
Well, it isn't every day I find human remains in my flat. [He mutters a bit, and after a moment's hesitation he comes over to sit beside Frank, keeping an eye on him all the while.]
Don't think either of us has a choice on that today. [Steven lets out an amused breath, huddled up where he's seated as he leans forward on his elbows a bit.] Can- Can I do anything to help you? You're not going to bleed out in here are you?
( I don't even know why *I* said Brooklyn? It was late. )
I'll be honest with you, no idea. I've got as much compression on it as I can get... Right now I just gotta keep breathin'. Feels hard but that's below-zero for you. Ha.
[ He closes his eyes and for a moment, is completely silent. Just thinking and listening. Then Frank sucks in a breath and tilts his head, giving Steven a smile. It's genuine and completely out of character, but next to this iota of warmth, the Punisher persona doesn't really have to take the reins. ]
Talkin' helps. Uh, tell me... tell me about you. I don't know you. Steven Grant.
haha it's all good, i'm cool hand waving it as marc just being a distrusting ass
He can see much better in the dark with the help of Khonshu's powers, glowing eyes turned toward Frank, and while the mask is rather emotionless his body language speaks loud and clear, the worry and cold taking over him quite quickly. He's hunched where he sits, shivering at Frank's side, though at the sight of a genuine smile he opts to play along.]
I'm not sure there's much to say. I've always been awful at talking about myself. You know those dreadful icebreakers they make you do at work events sometimes, for bonding? Like, "tell us what you do and a fun fact about your life" sort of thing? Bloody awful. I'd always make something up, could never think of anything interesting enough.
[Oh, hell... he's rambling about the wrong thing and he knows it, taking a step back before he continues with a less rushed tone:]
Maybe I should ask if there's something you want to know? That might be better.
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[ Steven was at least endearing. A breath of fresh air from Marc Spector, although the statement wasn't very fair. Two in the same, one in the same. Ah, no, still the clarity talking. But Frank would be lying if he said he was annoyed, or that the talking wasn't helping. As one came down from such a pain, even with a high tolerance, the world seems to fall away. Steven is keeping him grounded, even with the rambling.
Marc... refuses to talk. They're not friends. One doesn't owe the other. Competitors at best, street fights at 3AM at their worst. Yeah, he can see why he'd be a bad influence. Frank laughs at nothing and winces, leaning forward to mirror little cave friend. ]
Twenty questions in a cave in the middle of a hurricane... Alright. Easy one first. What's with the suit, man? You look like a mobster.
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What do you mean? I think I look quite good. [He momentarily takes the time to adjust his tie as well, though pretty soon after he's huddled up again.] I guess my mind couldn't think of something quite as dramatic as Marc's suit. Really, the cape is a bit much, don't you think?
[There's a smile in his voice despite the chattering of his teeth, though he thinks Marc enjoys a flair of the drama more than he lets on.]
It- It's the same as what he wears, just... my own. A good way to tell us apart, I suppose. [A pause, before adding:] That isn't an invitation to shoot me to test it out, just FYI.
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Slowly, he adjusts himself and... reaches a hand out to grip Steven's shoulder. Heavy, warm, could and has broken necks. Far too close for comfort, eh? Frank steadies himself against the other man as he lifts his weight and scoots closer until they're right next to each other. Better. Frank is more dressed for this weather, that little mob suit isn't. But also, fucking ow. He lets out a grunt, air forming a brief cloud in the mask's glow. He wonders if he left a bloody handprint behind. ]
Ugh. Don't worry, you're too nice to shoot. Where- oh. The cape is a bit much, but trust me, I'm the regular guy runnin' around with a skull painted on his chest. Now, if I had a deity to use as an excuse... Anubis, maybe? Not sure that mutt would agree with my type of judgement.
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He smiles under his mask at being called nice, though Frank makes a good point about the skull. At least he's self aware.]
Honestly, I think Khonshu would adore you. You only kill "bad" people, right? [He adds the quotation marks in the air for good measure.] Carry out vengeance against those who would do harm to others, etc. etc. You'd probably fit right in with the crazy ol' bird.
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[ Frank gestures to the open cave before that arm goes around Steven's shoulders. Stark white suit isn't going to keep him warm and he's long since put aside any awkwardness that comes with being two guys staring possible death in the face. The chattering and trembling is obvious. Frank half expects to be told the suit would actually keep him warm as well as completely freezing to death, and what he's doing is anything but helping. More benefits of an avatar, surely. ]
How does it work? Khonshu tells you guys where to go and what to do? I swear he's spying on me because when I say it's competitive... Doesn't matter. I'd actually offer working together with Marc but someone else must have mapped out downtown for him. Besides, sometimes it's... well, you know someone is a monster, right? But no one else can do anything about it. Whispers, rumors, or there wasn't enough evidence. Those are the people I think deserve it most.
[ Ah, yes talking about murder, all huddled up. Comfy, cozy. ]
I should have looked for a parachute, could have fuckin' burned it...
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He's a bit tense when Frank first gets his arm around him but Steven soon understands what's really happening here, and he's all for it in the name of survival. Even with the layers of Kevlar between them he can feel the warmth of Frank's body against the otherwise freezing layer of his suit, so he has no qualms about huddling up against his side, together. Marc is going to have an absolute field day when he hears about this.]
O- Occasionally. He's very... encouraging. [The chattering isn't letting off just yet but Steven powers through it. Talking is certainly a good distraction.] Marc takes care of all that ugly business, I help out sometimes. More when he needs an extra brain.
[He laughs under his breath a bit and even through the mask his breath is visible, just faintly in front of him. It does feel very surreal with this topic though, especially when Frank sheds more light on his own reasoning.]
What if you're wrong though? What if rumors were just... rumors?
[He glances over to him then, curious about the logic there. Steven doesn't agree with either him or Marc's judgment when it comes to what they do, when it comes to actual killing, but he's learned long ago he can't influence stubbornness out of any man in this "profession."]
M- Maybe I should go find... something. We're in the woods, yeah? I'm sure I can f- figure it out.
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( whoops, he's a stupid dime-flippy mess. )
comes with the territory~
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