Survivor's Guilt for a Non-Survivor (6-Person Tag)

[David Hunter]

This is a bad idea.

Like a really bad idea.

I thought the fucking ‘Fourth Group’ was stupid, but holy crap this takes the cake.

Heather, tell him this is stupid.

………….

Of all the fucking times to haunt your ex-best friend/current-worst enemy you pick now?

Yeah I suppose that’s just par for the course.

So yeah, you think buckling down somewhere and just drinking away your woes is a good idea?

You do?

Then you’re an idiot.

And if you don’t, than you wanna know what’s worse?

Buckling down and just drinking away your woes at the one place the person who wants to kill you often goes to.

Roanapur, the Yellowflag Bar.

Oftentimes visited by the Lagoon Company.

A member of which is Rock, a man that David saw and shot in order to flee.

In which he fled from another member of the Lagoon Company.

It’s Revy. My point is that this is exactly where fucking Revy, Two Hands herself often visits.

You remember Revy? The person who has been on a goose chase for ages because David shot the one person she might actually give a shit about, let alone love?

The one who Nathan said he was keeping at bay?

And that was two months ago he said that?

And David is now technically a wanted fugitive again because he ran away from the Council when he was supposed to only be on a two-hour break?

A Revy that will probably more than likely walk in—

Scratch that, has now officially walked in through the doors of the Yellowflag Door with eyes as wide as bowling balls and rage the level in which few mortals ever dare to imagine?

The worst part isn’t that all of this was easily predictable, no.

The worst part is that David refuses to let Leo come out so he can actually understand what I’m trying to tell him.

Being a narrator sucks, but being an omnipresent narrator sucks even worse because the person I’m narrating for can’t even fucking hear me without some third party’s involvement.

Of which there are presently none.

Which is why when Revy sees that the bar as a whole has spread apart like the Red Sea, her finding of David is like the Promised Land.

Yes, I just compared Revy to a biblical figure, the irony is not lost on me.

She storms up to David, her hands already taking both Berettas out of their holsters. She points them at the back of David’s head…

…while the man himself just continues to drink away at some whiskey.

“Drew looks…at me…” David mutters.

The stares that he gets from this could make Medusa blink.

It also makes Revy’s grip falter.

“What the fuck?” she says.

The voice alerts David, who peaks over his shoulder.

“Oh thank the unknown,” he says. “I was wondering where you were. Nice to see you again Revy. Bao, pour a drink for the girl.”

He then finishes the glass he had in his hand. Once it’s done, he slams it on the bar.

“And refill mine too,” he says.

Bao—the barkeep—raises an eyebrow.

“Come on, you know I’m good for it,” David says.

Bao sighs, taking an already open bottle of whiskey from below the counter. He uses it to fill up the glass that David just emptied.

Once it’s done, he puts it back.

“I know you are. She still owes me money,” Bao says.

“Bao, she always owes you money,” David says.

He ignores the two gun barrels that further imprint their mark into David’s hair.

“It’s fine, I got her this once. Besides, I’m the only one keeping her from another destroyed bar,” he says.

Bao’s right eyebrow twitches.

With a sigh, he takes the bottle back out as well as another glass, pouring one and setting it in front of the seat next to David.

Revy does not sit.

“Hey, Rebecca, how’s Rock doin?” David asks, taking another drink.

The entirety of the bar—barring the two involved—noticeably flinch at this. Nobody speaks or tries to make a noise.

For once, the Yellowflag Bar is without a fight. For once, it’s like a temporary truce has fallen over all the poor patrons who dared visit it today. If any of them breaks, they will be shot and probably die. While that is usually the norm, it’s generally gifted out by everybody fairly, not by one person and with such killing intent.

Revy cocks both of her guns.

“Oh please, do me a favor,” David says, rolling his eyes.

He takes another drink, pushing his head further into the barrels of the guns.

Revy uncocks both Berettas, placing them back in their respective holsters.

It’s like a hush falls over the bar. They, hesitantly, go back to what they were doing, ignoring the two who were previously the center of attention.

Revy sits down next to David, taking a drink from the glass offered to her.

When she’s done, she looks over to David, her eyes showing no trace of the rage they held before.

“He’s doing better. Took him a bit to heal up from the gunshot, but after forcing him on desk duty for a few months, he’s back to being a pain in my ass,” Revy says.

She’s jovial. Almost friendly.

Almost being the keyword given who we’re talking about.

“Kinky,” David says.

Revy’s right eyebrow now begins to twitch.

“Watch it. You still have that hit on you. The only reason nobody else has killed you is because they know I’d return the favor if they did,” she says.

“Ah Revy,” David says, a smile forming on his face. “You do care.”

She snorts.

“Nah, I just want the pleasure of blowing your brains out myself,” she says.

She takes another drink of her whiskey.

“Was that before or after you blow Rock?” David asks.

The whiskey she drank now finds itself in Bao’s face.

David snickers, glancing over at Revy.

Holy shit she’s blushing.

He takes a sip of his drink, sighing once he sets it back down.

“I wish I could actually get drunk off this. It would make it so much easier,” he says.

Revy clenches her fist, sending a direct punch right into the side of David’s head.

He only snickers, taking another drink.

“Fucker. So tell me you little shit, why the hell are you back in Roanapur? Got a death wish?” Revy asks.

“Yep,” David says, popping the ‘p’ for exaggeration.

Her eyes narrow at this, pointedly focusing on David who pointedly focuses on the alcohol in his glass.

He takes another drink.

“Drew talks…to me,” he mutters under his breath.

She raises an eyebrow. He glances over and notices this.

“Sorry. I’ve recently found a fascination with a lot of early Taylor Swift,” he says.

“I don’t know who that is,” Revy says.

“That’s because you lack culture.”

Seconded.

Revy snorts, taking a drink in the meantime.

“So…” she starts. “…about that death wish…”

David smirks, taking some time to focus on the mark on the bar. While recently rebuilt (again), Bao has a tendency to recycle what he can, so the bar itself is actually reused wood from the previous one.

“What’s that about?” she finishes.

“You know what Nathan is?” David asks.

Revy raises an eyebrow at the sudden question, but otherwise doesn’t comment on it.

“You mean besides a pain in the ass and one of the only people I can call worthy of a fight? Yeah, I know what Nathan is,” she says.

“Well…I got another one like him sharing space in my body,” he says.

“Shit,” is what Revy says.

It takes another few seconds and another sip of whiskey in Bao’s face for her to realize what he actually said.

“Wait, what the fuck? I thought most of ‘em were dead!” she shouts.

“They are,” David says. “There’s only four technically still alive, including my roommate.”

“Shit. Well…alright. So this guy’s part of you, so what?” she asks.

They both take a drink, emptying the glasses. Bao is quick to refill both of them.

“It’s not that fact that he’s a part of me that has me fucked up. It’s the fact that my entire life is fucked up that has me fucked up,” David says.

Revy doesn’t deign that with a response.

David doesn’t really expect one.

The two silently share a toast, clinking their glasses before chugging whatever resided in them.

Bao refills both of them just as fast.

“My Dad’s a cheating fuck, the woman I love loves another cheating fuck, the woman who loves me loves a piece of shit, and I’m running from the worst thing this universe has ever seen. I’m being chased by a ghost and a never-ending presence, I’ve got friends and brothers who are seen as criminals, and I’m trying to gather people together for some…some agenda. I’m not a martyr, I’m barely a fugitive, but I’m a fighter. If I’m anything I’m a fighter.”

He starts to grip his glass. The sounds if it wilting under pressure fills their silence.

“I’m a fighter and survivor…but I’m fucking tired of fighting and surviving.”

He lets go.

The glass hits the bar. Revy looks over, but doesn’t say anything.

“I wish I had the privilege of just ending it. Going back to college, living a life as a professional wrestler. But I’d drop out again. I’d fail again.

I wish I could retire my guns and these fists and let my mind fucking sleep. But my guns will always have ammo. My fists will always know the wear and tear. And my mind? My mind will always know who is there watching me.

I wish I didn’t have to be the only one to save the world, to be the only person in this universe who actually gives a damn enough about it to make a difference…but that’s just in my nature.”

Revy continues to look at David, narrowing her eyes and examining the words being spoken.

“I talked to The Twins,” he says.

Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens slightly, more out of surprise than anything else.

“They told me everything I asked them and more. They gave me a perspective I never would’ve…should've hoped to see. It’s…refreshing…to know that…despite everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been through, and everything I’ll ever do…that I’m still…mortal,” he says.

David takes the pistol out of his pocket. He aims it at Revy.

She reacts by instinct, pulling her two Berettas out and pointing them at David. Her eyes are still wide.

“You could kill me right now and everything would be done. My problems would be gone. I’d finally be able to sleep,” he says.

David pulls the hammer back on his pistol. Revy does the same for hers.

They remain like that, neither taking aim. The rest of the bars’ patrons sit in silence, their hands on their weapons, ready to take a side if this escalates. Bao is already hiding under the bar.

David’s head starts to shake violently.

Revy’s eyes widen once more.

David tries to crack his neck, but he refuses to allow himself to do so.

When David lets the pistol droop in between his fingers, his head stops.

“Drew walks…by me,” he says.

He puts the pistol back in his pocket. Revy slowly does the same.

“Jesus fuck, David,” she mutters.

“Fucker won’t let me do it so long as he’s in here,” he says. “It’s fine. I’ll just do what I always do when I fail: get the fuck up and move on. It’s what I’m best at right? No matter how much I fail, no matter how much I think I won only to fuck it up at the finish line, I’ll just continue to move forward.”

David sighs, standing up from his seat. He reaches into his wallet, throwing out a random assortment of bills he had onto the counter. He puts it back before turning around. He starts to make his way towards the exit.

“Why?” Revy asks.

David stops. He looks over his shoulder, the remnants of that smirk shining through.

When she catches his eyes, she sees Nathan in a firefight, back to back with herself. She sees Rock at his best and smartest. She sees a maid helping a young boy with whatever he wants. She sees a Russian woman leading an army. She sees a fake nun aiming a shotgun at her enemies. She sees a main in a suit as her copycat only better.

She sees the best and proudest in everyone she knows.

“It's like my namesake once said…” David says. “…because somebody fucking has to.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

On a cold Philadelphia evening, David stands in front of a pawn shop.

Not just any pawn shop, but one filled with…trinkets.

He tightens his jacket around his neck before entering the door. A sharp chime echoes throughout the room.

A man—Mr. Silver—calls out from the back.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he says.

“Where’s Argit?” David asks.

The noise the man was making stops.

Some heavy footsteps echo throughout the shop. Mr. Silver exits from the backroom, his cane helping him to a nearby counter.

David sniffs once before speaking.

“Mr. Silver…where is Argit?” he asks.

“My employee is presently out on a job. He won’t be back until we’re closed. How can I be of service…dearie?” Mr. Silver asks.

David smirks.

He takes his pistol out, throwing it at Mr. Silver’s feet. The old man himself narrows his eyes down at it before looking back up at David.

“Mr. Silver…I am hereby offering my services to you with the return of protection. All I ask as an addendum is the freedom to visit my family one last time,” he says.

Mr. Silver takes his cane, using it to shove the pistol back towards David.

“Under what pretense is this?” Mr. Silver asks.

“Only the pretense that you’re my best bet at survival,” David says.

“You’re damaged goods.”

David raises an eyebrow.

“Am I? I know you helped aid a member of the forbidden dimension into coming here. I know you helped her return home. I know you have contacts in the other forbidden dimensions and I know you cover ground unchecked by the other three groups. The way I see it…you’re perfect,” he says.

“Perfect? For what?” Mr. Silver asks.

David raises his hands up, palms forward. He steps over the pistol, walking towards Mr. Silver. He raises in cane directly in front of him. David hits the cane with his stomach and stops.

“I’m looking to start a group. Independent of the other three and containing those spurned from the recent actions of Noxorus and those desiring not to serve the other options available while still having the benefits of them. I need recruits. I need members,” he says. “And quite frankly, Mr. Silver…I need help.”

The old man lowers his cane. He switches hands, putting in his left. Using what’s available, he takes off his right glove, exposing his flesh to the world.

He raises a finger.

“In exchange for your services—no matter what those services may be—I am offering you protection from the Council, the Others, and the Peacekeepers. In exchange, you will provide silence on any misdeeds I have committed or may commit that involve inter-dimensional crimes. Furthermore…I will put further thought into your offer for a ‘fourth group.’ Is that fair?”

David nods, offering his hand.

“Then I do believe…” Mr. Silver says.

His hand approaches David’s, the former’s eyes taking on a more yellow tone.

“…we have a deal,” Mr. Silver says.

The two shake hands.