[Fury] Epilogues

It's story time!

The "movie" ended with the Tax Patrol dead, Safeco and Pike at an uneasy truce, and the Forest working towards some trade with Pike. Now we're seeing glimpses of the future, seeing what may have come with our starring characters.

How did it go for each of you?

Vignette, did you end up with Cujo, working through your issues together, or were you too different?

August, did Grindhouse flourish under your guiding hand? How did things work out with you and the Arrows?

Bon, what happened with your infirmary? With Mox? With Shy? Who became your closest assistant?

Dog, did you ever make somewhere more permanent with the Arrows? Who was the next to lead them?

SeaTac, how did things work out with you and Joey? With you and Laika?

Gates, did you end up with Valentine? What happened to your church?

(rules - try to speak from your character's POV. Write as much or as little as you need. Don't stress out and feel like you need to write a book! Try to accept the input from other folk's epilogues if you can. Have fun! It has been a BLAST!)


  • photo Dog3recolor.png

    I'm still amazed every day how much life I have ahead of me. The narrow gates all feel open and I can ride through 'em how I like.

    One thing I've been good at all my life is takin' on hurt and then getting better. My leg gets strong again, and I train myself back up to fit, runnin' while draggin' weight and climbin' the same, just how I did back in the day.

    It's weird that just when I feel the most freedom, I try and settle us down. It's all sorta like this; I'd like to grow the gang without wrecking what makes Arrows into Arrows. For that we need more good women, and one of two things; more hovers, or more self-sufficiency. Nobody's makin' more hovers, so I get us makin' our own water and hire Gates' and Seneca's crews to build us out a bit more in the hideout.

    Admiral and me, we butt heads about those Tax Patrol points. Soak it, I'll admit I don't want to hold them and play with the risk that we turn over like Tax Patrol did. That's not a good future. Don't want Admiral going there with his new motored gang, either, how's he gonnta keep them in check? We compromise, sharing patrols and turning the checkpoints into spotter's points. Maybe it won't flood us over.

    When things get more settled and ain't all battles every week, Rainey makes good on her plan to work the Yacht Club. She does all Valentine's bookin' and pursin'. Her baby daughter is the cutest thing, too. We visit a lot, and I make good as I can on my promise to Rainey to help out and do godmother things.

    Hope comes back to us. It's rough for a while. When she's clean of Home, she finds herself a new one - she was bein' real about the Arrow lifestyle not being for her. I'd like to see her with some of the people I trust..

    I make visits to August's new Grindhouse like I've been plannin', to see her and her work and how she leads people when stuff's all on her. I'm proud and excited, I wanna hear all about it. When it comes to August, what I like best in her is how she thinks, and I'm sure this will bring more of that out. If this Grindhouse thing doesn't pan out for her, she can keep gangin' with me.

    I also do the work to keep Bon close and support her and the infirmary. It's a trick because Bon's independent and tough and she's run her life without that much help before. But even I get help, so she does, too. I keep an eye on how she uses her new gift, and how people react to it. Same for Shy and Mox, sort of like when they were Arrow kids, but different.

    I love both of them and if who we are to each other changes, all I need is it gets said openly, and I keep loving with an open hand. Won't close a fist around them, ever.

    When I start to slow down? I think Grunge is gonna fill my seat. She has the makin's and a feel for it. I'm givin' her a bit of the business, showin' her how much she'll have to think if she rides in front. Not just how we do it, but why we do it.

    You know, our reason for living and dying as Arrows.
  • edited February 2016


    With the sickness lifted, the Tax Patrol out of business, and the other gangs put on notice about the protected nature of the route between Safeco and Pike, trade has flourished. The extra income has made some improvements possible. I have fixed up Grindhouse. A restored Grindhouse infused with August’s energy is good for Pike. Nothing is ever done for a single reason, though–it is partially done as a thank you to August, without whom I would have remained a lost girl–until the inevitable attempt on my father’s life.

    Speaking of the Admiral, we continue to refrain from killing each other. I still suspect he may have been involved in my mother’s death, but I do not know, and we share a strong pragmatic streak. Our partnership has resulted in a safe route between Pike and Safeco, dotted with secure outposts. Of course, I insisted that these be controlled by Arrows, envisioning the outposts as a distributed expansion of their hideout, which seemed to fit their nature. Daddy insisted upon controlling these. Fortunately, Dog stepped in and offered a compromise. She has more wisdom than she lets on–maybe more than she knows, but I think she is beginning to suspect.

    My brief time in Bon’s mind revealed her desire to share her knowledge, to see a day where our people were not reliant on her alone. I mean to support that vision as much as I can. The security outposts between Pike and Safeco all have med-bays, and Pike boasts a well-stocked medical center. I have encouraged those whores that want a different life, as well as the occasional displaced raider, to learn from Bon, much to the continued, though good-natured, consternation of Jax.

    My initial fear of the immenseness of the Forest mind had passed. I have learned to think of it as not unlike the roiling haze of overlapping minds in Pike and Safeco…but with more…coherence, more intent. It is peaceful in the Forest, now that I realize it does not want to subsume us, and it realizes we are allies. As the Forest and I have come to understand each other, Rain has become unnecessary, an imperfect conduit. I see him around Pike sometimes. He often looks a little lost and bewildered. My staff is on orders to see that he is not harmed. I take walks in the Forest often, communing with the Forest mind. I always bring a sapling back with me. At first, I planted these around my headquarters, which has turned it into something almost like a treehouse. Recently, I have planted them near the security outposts that dot the landscape between Pike and Safeco. The Forest has taught me the trick of extending my consciousness into parts of itself. In this way, as the Forest has extended to Pike and Safeco and points in between, so has my consciousness. I still travel between sites, but more to be seen than from any lack of information.

    Cujo? Maybe Cujo kept me from being lost to the Forest–not lost in the Forest, lost to the Forest. It is so peaceful there, with its immense consciousness, so devoid of human concerns. I do not think Cujo believed I would find my way back to humanity without her–and maybe she was right. So, she walked wih me, day after day, silent, the surprisingly soft warmth of her hand keeping me tethered to my humanity until I figured out how to coexist with the Forest without losing myself.

    I never did read her–and she never offered, though I think she would let me if I asked. I do not think I need to anymore. Her being there everyday, while I worked out a way to create a life–a life not fueled by guilt and regret and desire for revenge, nor a life given over to the alien mind of the Forest–her being with me through all of that led me to finally figure out what she wanted. It had really been much simpler than a new a golden ear, though maybe harder for me to accept. Mornings in the small pile, feeling her warmth as the dawn starts to light the leaves that screen our windows, I feel at peace, and as I take her hand and brush her scarred knuckles across my lips, I note that the scars are from hurts long-healed. Most of mine are too. And when thunderstorms open up the one wound that has never fully healed, she is there with me until the storm has passed.

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    Back when, I'd never have guessed that I'd have more company the day I died than the voices of the Unit in my head.

    I look over at Joey. Not Cadet, not anymore. Reckon it was okay that I promoted him to Sergeant, once he found his first recruits and started training 'em. He looks back, flame hair and clear eyes, sad but not afraid. Taught him that. Death is just a thing. It happens. "Nobody lives forever, Sergeant." I cough, the gut-wound gone rancid taking another bite of what's left of me. Dumb luck. One shot from a rifle that exploded on the second, caught me just right and went septic faster than ratonastick goes through my digestion these days. Too far out to get back to Bon or her people, so we holed up to see if it'd work itself out. It didn't.

    "Kid," my voice is getting weak now, vision blurry, "You gotta know a few things, so just shut up and listen. And if my eyes tear up, it's the pain, alright?" Do my best to give him a hard look. "My life started again the day I started training you. I was pointless, a bullet like my tattoo says. Good for one thing. Seeing you grow... changed that. I wanted more for you, and I think you have it. I gave you skills, but you made yourself a man. A leader." Another cough. "Take care of yourself. And Ghost. And Joey... Tell your mother I'm sorry I left without telling her how much I loved her."

    "Proud of you and your Unit, Joey. So pr..."
  • edited February 2016

    The family has grown.

    Not large.

    Just enough. Some folks got married. Some folks had kids. Some folks joined because a life of companionship and simple work appealed to them, not unlike it did fer me.

    I enter church, and look at the congregants. My family. My second family. I lost the first one to a senseless act of violence and I spent the rest o' my life trying to recreate what I had with people who were lookin' fer the same thing.

    I never got what I lost back.

    I got somethin' different. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

    I walk towards the front of the room, castin' my eyes over the assembled flock.

    Then I take my seat among them so I can listen to QuePasa.

    She stands and walks to the front of the room, confident, resplendent. Her mouth, often terse, curls into a smile when she stands before the family, and she begins to preach. On love. On peace. On forgiveness. On the joy of placing your trust and your emotions and your life in the hands of another. QuePasa has a gift. A gift beyond my own by far. I remember the night I almost killed her. I remember the night I told her she saved my life. I meant it. She did more than that. She saved my soul. She was the first member of my new family. She is my daughter, and I am proud.

    We have never spoken about my first family, the family she took from me. As she speaks, preaches, about being a sinner, but letting go of your pain, seeking forgiveness of those you wronged, she makes eye contact with me. We have never spoken of my first family. But she knows we built a second one together.

    The door creaks open and Val slips in. Ze doesn't come all the time. This will never be zir thing. But ze comes sometimes. For me. Val is like that. Good people. Ze slides next to me and sits down, asks if ze missed anything.

    I whisper. "Nah, Val. Right on time. As always."

    Ze smiles and takes my hand.
  • edited February 2016

    My heart pounds as I run along the corridor to the Infirmary, pulling my jacket on, the haze of sleep burning away. Kit, my senior student, a mountain of a young man, runs ahead of me.

    "I knew I should not have left." I mutter, swiping my hair from my face again, not having had it tied. Dog snorts from where she follows behind me, easily keeping pace. I shoot her a look but she pays me no heed. I am sure Shy sent Kit to her knowing I wouldn't leave unless Dog came and fetched me back, her touch still more persuasive than any argument.

    Dog is good at caring for me that way. August too, though she is as apt as I to get lost in her own work.

    We burst into the infirmary through the third patient ward, startling Panko from her rounds, Foal already has a gown for me, and water to cleanse my hands. A howl of pain sounds from the operating room.

    "Why did you not send for me earlier?" I cry at Decatur as I frantically scrub.

    "She wouldn't let us. She insisted she was fine." He says, voice calm. He is gowned himself, and steps up to bind my hair back.

    "Stubborn child!" I shake my head.

    "Comes by that honest." Dog grins at me.

    I give her another disgruntled look, but her grin just gets bigger.


    The little one's shrill cry rends the air. She is magnificent in her indignation.

    I sigh and chuckle andI hand her to her uncle to be examined, cleaned and wrapped in a warm blanket festooned with tiny arrows, each with an initial. "There, my heart, the worst is over." I say to Shy, who lays, sweat-soaked and exhausted upon the bed. I smile at Kit who still holds her small hand in his big one and whispers in her ear.

    Decatur and I make short work of the afterbirth and cleanup, working almost as one creature, he has been with me so long now. Lissa mockingly insists he is married to me as much as to her. More sometimes.

    I reach forth and summon only a fraction of the gift to speed Shy's healing. The chill steals over me, as always. But it is not the deep cold of a drastic healing, and once again I am thankful for Vignette's friendship and patience in helping me learn to work with the gift. I will never, I think, have Nee's level of ability, but I am much better at it now. Still I am careful when I use it.

    Mox hands the baby back to me, swaddled expertly. I lean into his lanky form a moment, happy to see him. I had been afraid he would not be able to leave the Pike Infirmary but he insists that his senior students are able to handle a few hours of his absence. He notices the chill of my skin... of course he does, and gives me a scolding look. I shrug slightly and he shakes his head and looks across the room questioningly.

    I follow his gaze to Dog and August. They're smiling too, of course, and August shrugs at Mox's look as if to say. "You know how she is." And they do.

    I bring Shy her daughter, placing the baby in her arms. I watch as Shy and Kit both fall in love with their child.

    "She's beautiful." I say, crouching down next to Shy and kissing her sweaty forehead. I feel Dog's hand upon my shoulder and I reach up to place my hand over it. Shy nods slightly at my words, still looking at her daughter's tiny face. I look at it too, but my eyes go back to Shy's profile. She looks even more like Nee now, and some quiet melancholy creeps up in me.

    "Oh love, I wish your mother were here to see it." I murmur.

    Shy blinks and turns her head to look at me a moment, a powerful, deep look. Her lips curl in a tired smile.

    "She is." She says.

  • edited February 2016

    My hips creak and pain runs down my leg so sharp I have to suck in a breath to stop from cussing in front of the kids. Ease myself down, dangle my legs over the edge of the stage. Glance over my shoulder and think about the hundreds of times I've stood in front of this backdrop. Before it were even done up all hi-tech like. When there was nothing but tatters and tits and desperation holding the curtains together. QuePasa's renovations are functional if not inspirational. Though I told old Gates that I like to imagine Queen Anne's ghost haunting her dreams in a never-ending fit of pique.

    The redhead, Coco, is Joey's and Ghost's child. She looks so much like her dad it hurts to put eyes on her, since he went away. Ghost still brings CoCo around though, tells her to listen to me. Says it'll do her good.

    Fat lot of good it did her dad but, well, who am I to say?

    Laika's other grandkid has the wispiest moustache I ever saw, but he refuses to shave it.

    The odd brunette is PollySky. Almost grown. Interrupts a lot, asks dumb questions. Been askin' about getting a gun soon. She wears a faded blue feather in her hair that she thinks is just a gift from her dead mother. Decatur says she's been coming by the clinic. Holds Bon's hand sometimes when she's having one of her lost spells. Talks her through it, makes sure she knows where she is and what day it is.

    When Bon gets like that, I try to find her sometimes. You know, between this place and the next one. But wherever she goes when she leaves us, it isn't there.

    I still wear the last glove she made for me, even though Mox says he can make me a better one.

    The kids get a little restless sometimes, when they see me gathering wool like this. Wondering when I'll start. Most of them wait. And well, the ones that don't usually come back.

    You know, none of them look like Dog. No one has a brow like hers, a wry way with their lips like hers. But I still see her in them from time to time. Get caught up in the memory of her waist underneath my hands, a bike between our thighs. Ground moving so fast beneath us we might as well be flying.

    Always forward.

    I hit the button on my wrist unit, call up the first slide. A picture of the old sea comes up on the screen, bloody and raw. The kids all gasp. Just looking at it stirs something in me, but I shake off the compulsion. I take a sip of clearwater from the glass in my hand, cough a bit to loosen my throat.

    "Before the waters, before the breaking, before the trees, before the now, there was a music box and a pale child named ..."
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