Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ Wanted ( Chapter 32 )

Disclaimer: How I wish I owned Trigun. Sadly, I own it not.

 

A/N: Muwahahaha! I'm BACK! With ANOTHER chapter! XD

 

Man, you guys don't know how much I enjoyed the feedback from Chapter 31. It was AMAZING! Some of your reviews had me laughing so hard! I'm glad I shocked you all. It makes me, as the author, feel all warm and fuzzy inside when the readers enjoy something that much! It's the readers who make things like this worth writing, you know!

 

Well, enough of my blathering! One to Chapter 32! (And remember, only three more after this…)

 

 

Wanted

 

The hottest time of the day on Gunsmoke had just begun, the twin suns in the process making their way over the center of the sky, its clear blue quality a nice backdrop against the golden glow of the suns. Sand seemed to stretch on for iles, uneven dunes flashing by in an instant, there one moment and gone the next. For Meryl Stryfe, though, the beauty was overshadowed by concern and uncertainty.

Tucking some loose hair behind her ear, Meryl frowned when they flew back into her face a second later. This cycle had been going on for a while now. Even though she had tied her hair back into a sloppy ponytail, there were still stray strands that were too short to be kept tame, especially since Vash was driving speedily across the desert, causing the wind to tear her hair out of place.

Out of the corner of her eye, Meryl glanced at Vash. His attention was focused on the road, any thoughts that might have been going through his mind concealed behind the orange lenses of his sunglasses. She looked away, resting her head against door of the truck, the vibration soothing.

They had been traveling for days now, and every day was the same. They set out early in the morning after having a simple breakfast, drove until the twin suns had made it halfway across the sky, paused to have a small lunch while taking shelter in the shade provided by their vehicle, and then drove again until night fell. Keeping clean was nearly impossible due to lack of water, but they “freshened up” before Meryl prepared supper, using supplies they had pilfered from the SEEDs ship.

Meryl shivered slightly, a chill running down her spine. She never wanted to go back there again. So many things had happened there, most of them bad. One thing she could say, though, was that she had come away with a greater sense of what it was like to be Vash. Meryl would always have those scars, and she would have to hide them so no one else would ever know. The only one who had seen them was Vash now that Knives was…gone…

It was still so hard for her to wrap her mind around the concept of it. Knives had been the antagonist of the human race for over a century, and now he was just…gone. Meryl was not sad about it. Certainly not! The psychopath had tried to kill her! And Vash! On more than one occasion! But…

I feel like there's some kind of…void. It's as if Knives's absence has created some kind of imbalance.

Meryl glanced at Vash again. For as long as she had known him, Vash had always been fighting against Knives. Of course, she had not known exactly whom he had been fighting against for a long time, but now that she did, the whole thing struck her as odd. Because, Vash and Knives did seem to balance each other out, two nonhumans, complete opposites, both extremists. But, now that only one remained…

Maybe I'm just thinking about this too much, Meryl thought. Knives is gone for good…

But, that was the problem. The way he had been “gotten rid of,” so to speak, had nothing to do with Knives being killed at Vash's hand. And while Meryl was grateful that Vash had not had to go through that again, the fact that he had absorbed Knives, through no fault of his own, weighed on him.

About a day or so after the incident, Meryl had gotten up the courage to ask Vash about it…

“Vash…”

“Yeah?”

She looked at him uncomfortably. “How exactly…did it happen?”

He blinked. “How did what happen?”

Meryl bit her lip as she checked his wounds once more, making sure there was no infection. “Well…there's no easy way to say it…”

Vash winced slightly, sucking in his breath when she accidentally put too much pressure on one of the wounds. “Just…ask me…”

“I'm sorry!” Meryl said, drawing away from him. “I didn't mean to-”

He smiled faintly. “It's fine. I've lived through worse. Come on. Go ahead and ask.” Vash sighed. “I think I know what you're going to ask, anyway.”

“Well…I just wanted to know,” she began, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “It looked like Knives was trying to…absorb you into himself. Why did it…happen the other way around?”

Vash leaned back slowly against the back of his seat, his expression brooding. “Do you remember when Knives ran those tests on my right arm? Before Brilliant Dynamites Neon showed up?”

Meryl nodded. “How could I forget?” she muttered.

“He was testing the size of my `Gate.'”

“Your what?”

Vash's smile faded, his face solemn. “It's a term for the `flow' of our power. Of a Plant's power. The greater the Gate, the more energy released when we use our…uh…abilities. Mine…is greater than Knives's was. So…when he tried to absorb me into himself…”

“He was overwhelmed,” Meryl finished softly.

“Yes…”

“Are there…any adverse effects?”

“None that I know of…”

Meryl stared at him. “But there could be…couldn't there?”

Vash looked at her, and his face took on the familiar goofball expression. “Don't worry about it, Meryl! I'm fit as a fiddle!” he said, pumping his chest. “Ow!” he yelped, flinching a bit from moving too much, too quickly.

Meryl bowed her head, her hair obscuring her features. “You shouldn't joke about this…”

Her eyes widened then as he gently lifted her chin, his gaze level with hers. Meryl blinked, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Vash looked at her and smiled faintly, his breath ticking her face as the heat began to rise in her cheeks.

“I know that, Meryl. But…it doesn't help to worry about it, does it?”

“No…”

He nodded, letting his hand fall away slowly. Vash blinked. “Are you…blushing?”

“N-no!” Meryl sputtered, denying it even though she could tell by the warmth radiating from her face that it was true.

Vash laughed. “Come on. It's my turn to check your wounds.”

Meryl narrowed her eyes, mustering what composure she had to glare at him. “We never agreed to that! And I can take care of myself, thanks so much for asking!”

“Come one, Meryl! It's the least I can do for you!”

Meryl blinked, staring at him oddly. He really meant it. He was not trying to be lecherous or anything. He actually wanted to help her. They stared at each other for a few minutes in silence until, finally, Meryl spoke, her gruff tone concealing how much Vash's statement had touched her.

“Oh, fine…”

After that, the two of them had stayed at the SEEDs ship for another few weeks, allowing their respective injuries to have a chance to heal before they left. It had been a hard couple of weeks, mostly because the oppressive loneliness of the place. Of course, Vash and Meryl had spent most of their time together, sometimes exploring the ship when they were not just sitting and talking. They even visited Vash's Plant sisters a few times, who had told Vash Knives's intent to absorb them to stop the hair-darkening effect.

He looked so angry when he found out…but…it was so strange…

For the past couple of days, no, more like since a few days after the incident with Knives, Meryl had started to notice Vash behaving…oddly. It would have been almost indistinguishable to anyone who did not know him, but Meryl could see it. Every now and then, Vash would do distinctly…non-Vash-like things. It was not even so much things he did, more his mannerisms.

Last night, for example, had been nothing short of disturbing…

Meryl stirred slightly, drawing the covers closer about herself as she tried to ward off the chill of the desert. She mumbled faintly, enjoying the warmth trapped within the covering with her. Her ears pricked slightly, then, a soft scuffing coming from somewhere around her. She opened her eyes blearily, still half asleep.

At first, there was nothing there to see. Blinking rapidly, Meryl tried to focus her gaze on something. Looking around, she could see nothing except the bare rocks stuck up in odd places in the cold sand and the dim glow from the dying flames which had been their campfire. Feeling somewhat unnerved, Meryl sat up slowly, her heart beating loudly in her own ears.

A pair of gimlet eyes stared back at her from the darkness. Meryl jumped a little, fear rising within her. Those eyes glimmered wickedly at her, a strange, arctic blue that Meryl knew all too well.

Right then, the fire sputtered, causing the shadows to withdraw momentarily from the area. Meryl sucked in her breath when she caught a brief glimpse of her stalker's face.

“Vash?” she whispered hoarsely.

He did not respond, his body rigid and unmoving as he stared back at her, aqua eyes tinged with a wintry blue. Her heart in her throat, Meryl froze, unsure what to do.

Why is he looking at me like that? It's almost as if…like he's…

“Vash?” she asked, louder this time, her voice trembling slightly.

He blinked, looking at her oddly. “Huh? Why are you here, Meryl?”

Meryl stared at him. “You... I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE ASKING THAT QUESTION!”

Vash gaped at her. “What?”

She glared at him, still wound up from the scare she had just had. “You came over here and STARED at me. And your eyes…” She stopped, biting her lip.

Vash looked serious now. “What happened?”

“Nothing, but…Vash, why were you looking at me like that?”

He did not answer for a moment. Then, Vash stood, brushing himself off a little. He grinned goofily at her, waving his hand dismissively.

“Oh, ahaha! Well…I sleepwalk sometimes so…yeah! Don't worry, I'm fine!” he said before scrambling off to his sleeping roll.

Meryl watched him go, feeling extremely disturbed now…

Meryl shook her head. Maybe I'm just overreacting. Vash probably still hasn't gotten over what happened to Knives even though it wasn't his fault. But…

“Meryl?”

Jerking her head up, Meryl turned around. Vash was staring at her quizzically. “Are you alright?”

She blinked. “Oh… Yes, I'm fine.”

His brow furrowed. “You sure?”

Meryl managed a smile. “Yes, I'm sure.” She paused. “Why have we stopped?”

Vash stretched a bit, covering his mouth as he yawned. “Well, I saw this trading post a little while ago and thought we should stop and pick up a few things we might need,” he said, indicating the cluster of small, ill-kept buildings.

Meryl nodded. “Yes, I guess we should.”

She opened the door of the truck and stepped out, stretching for a minute or so to relieve the stiffness in her limbs. Riding in a truck all day certainly was not the most pleasant thing in the world.

Or therapeutic, she groused when she felt her spine pop.

Leaning over the back of the truck, Meryl began rummaging around in her things, withdrawing a few double dollar bills that she had brought with her from her pack. She folded them neatly before tucking them in her pocket.

“Meryl.”

She jumped slightly at the voice coming from right behind her. Scowling slightly, she turned, saying, “What, Vash?”

“I think I'll come with you.”

“I can take care of myself, Vash,” Meryl huffed, indicating the derringers she had hidden on her person.

“I know, but I think I should come anyway,” he said solemnly, shifting slightly, the two Colts, one silver and the other black, visible beneath the folds of his red duster.

She stared at him for a moment, a bit taken aback by this. Still, she nodded. “Whatever you want.”

With that, the two left the truck in a secluded area a little ways outside of town so no one would discover it and “borrow” it, for whatever reason. Meryl pulled at her hair while they walked, trying to smooth it down, but every time she tried, a gust of wind blew it out of place again.

Ugh! I give up! she grumbled.

They passed by a few lopsided shacks, and Meryl unconsciously drifted a bit closer to Vash when she saw people with dirt-smudged faces and ragged clothing staring at them. So, this was what it was like to live in places like this, without Plants and iles away from any of the bigger cities. It seemed horrible. But…

The more Meryl looked, the more she noticed something. Most people, despite their poor surroundings, seemed to be clean and neat. Some of the people they passed even said a brief “hello” before going about their business.

Even in run-down places like this…there's hope…

“Over here.”

Vash indicated a small shop, apparently a convenience store. Meryl sighed once before following him inside.

It was a small place with shelves everywhere, mostly crammed full of foodstuffs that did not spoil, such as canned and bagged goods. Yet, even though everything was packed together quite tightly, it was organized. Meryl smiled wistfully, remembering times at the Bernardelli when she had arranged papers and reports in much the same fashion. However, it was unlikely that she would get her old job back again, especially since she had been missing for a few months now. They might have even officially declared her dead…

“Can I help you, folks?”

Meryl shook free of her thoughts before turning her attention onto the man behind the counter. His voice and appearance were gruff, indicating the kind of person who worked hard for a living. She nodded, reaching into her pocket, her fingers fumbling around before she withdrew a crumpled sheet of paper. Smoothing it out, she handed the list to the man.

“We need these items.”

He took the sheet of paper from her and scanned it before nodding. “Alright. I'll get your stuff.”

The man walked around the counter and began to collect things off of the shelves, dropping them into a bag he had taken from beneath the countertop. Meryl watched him for a moment before leaning back against it, rubbing the crick in her neck. Glancing lazily about the shop, something caught her eye.

She frowned, squinting slightly at the news clipping posted behind the counter. Meryl sucked in her breath as she read:

Vash the Stampede is wanted by the federal government in connection with the disappearance of Bernardelli Insurance Agent Meryl Stryfe, who went missing a few months ago, as well as several separate incidents. Many people have died, and government officials released this statement this morning.

“We will do whatever it takes to bring in Vash the Stampede for questioning,” said Federal Marshal Marianne Aura Cayzen, head of the investigation.

“What about the missing insurance agent?” reporters asked.

“We're hoping to find her, as well,” the Marshall said.

The military has also issued a reward for anyone who has information on this dangerous individual, including his whereabouts. For more information, including a description of Vash the Stampede, turn to page 3A…

The article cut off there. Meryl stared at it, shocked. Why did things have to keep coming, one right after another? This was absolutely ridiculous! First Knives, then Vash's illness, then Brilliant Dynamites Neon, then Vash stabbing her, followed by Vash and Knives's last fight, and now THIS? Would it never end?

“Here's your stuff.”

Meryl snapped out of her outraged thoughts as the man came back to the counter. Schooling her expression, Meryl thanked him and asked how much it was for everything.

“That'll be $$23.54.”

Meryl handed him a few crumpled bills. He took them, smoothing them a bit before putting them into the cash register. Meryl drummed her fingers anxiously against the countertop. Vash looked at her, his expression quizzical.

“What is it?”

“Oh! Nothing!” Meryl said a bit too loudly, her voice somewhat shrill as her gaze flickered back onto the article briefly.

The clerk nodded. “Looking at the article, eh? Yeah, that's been out for a while now.”

“How long?” Meryl asked.

Vash blinked. “What article?”

Meryl stomped on his foot as discretely as possible. “I'll tell you later,” she muttered.

Vash flinched, his expression an odd mix of pain and a mask of joviality. “Ok! You're the boss, honey!” he said in a fake cheerful voice.

Meryl did not miss the pained emphasis on the word “honey.” Two can play at this game… “Good! And don't forget it, dear,” she stated imperiously, glaring at him.

The shopkeeper looked at them oddly before handing Meryl her change. “You folks have a nice day!” He paused, staring at Vash's attire for a moment. “What'd you two say your names were?”

“Oh!” Vash exclaimed. “Well, I'm Ericks Saverem and this is my-”

“If you say wife, you are so dead, mister,” Meryl hissed under her breath, loud enough so only Vash could hear.

“-girlfriend Mildred Longbottom!”

It took every last bit of Meryl's self control to not punch that broomhead in the face. MILDRED LONGBOTTOM?

“We're just passing through!” Vash finished happily.

“Oh.” The man looked from Meryl to Vash, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Well, good luck to ya!”

“Thank you, sir! Come on, Mildred,” Vash said, picking up their bag of items before pulling Meryl towards the door, “let's go!”

“Ok, Ericks!” Meryl bit out through her teeth.

Once outside, Meryl yanked her arm away, drawing herself up to her full height (which was still much shorter than Vash, but she did not really care about that at the moment), her eyes flashing angrily.

“You. Me. Car. Five minutes,” she ground out, stalking away from him.

Five minutes later…

“MILDRED LONGBOTTOM?”

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! How many times do I have to say that?” Vash protested. “It was the only name I could think of off the top of my head!”

“Sure it was, Ericks!” Meryl growled.

“I'm sorry!”

“Ugh!” Meryl sank into the seat of the truck, rubbing her brow. “Just…fine! But if you use that name again, I will hurt you!”

“Ok, ok, I get it!” Vash said, making placating gestures with his hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me what got you so worked up?”

Meryl looked up at him, taking a deep breath. “The article.”

“Yes? What was in it?”

“Vash…the Feds are after you.”

Vash stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the federal government is looking for you right now!” Meryl said. “They want you in connection for some weird things…including my `disappearance.'”

“But…didn't you tell Millie to tell your boss what was going on?” Vash asked.

“And what would he have said to that, Vash?” Meryl scoffed. “What would you have said if someone told you: `My partner has gone off with her assignment to stop him from molting feathers and dying because of it. Oh, yeah, and she's with his homicidal brother who is actually the reason why we crashed on Gunsmoke in the first place. And, did I mention that they're both Plants?' Right. That'd go over really well!”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

Meryl paused. He was looking at her with that same impassive expression, the one that he'd always hide behind in bad situations. She squinted at him, his back outlined by the twin suns, now past the halfway point and beginning the journey down towards the horizon. Meryl thought about it for a few minutes, considering their options.

Finally, she said, “I think we should head for Inepril. Remember when you saved their city? They owe you a debt of gratitude. They should be willing to hide us, at least until we can think of what to do.”

He nodded. “Alright. Then that's what we'll do.”

Meryl nodded, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. “You hungry?”

Vash smiled faintly. “Sure.”

As Vash began to help Meryl prepare the simple repast, neither noticed a man slip away from the area, dashing back to the small village as fast as he could. He grinned, sweat slicking his grimy face as he ran. He had heard the words “Vash” and “Inepril,” and that was all he needed to know.

 

 

Brilliant Dynamites Neon paced about his makeshift headquarters several iles outside the city of December. He balanced the long, sparkling cigarette between his teeth, puffing out of the corner of his mouth every now and then. Spitting it out, BDN rubbed the heel of his boot onto the still sizzling object, his expression irritable.

Damn it. What the hell is taking those maggots so long?

A couple weeks ago, Neon had sent several of his most intelligent Bad Lads into the city to infiltrate December's top levels of management. After some bribes and a few blackmails (“There ain't no such thing as on honest politician who's got nothing to hide. It's an oxymoron.”), they had succeeded, enabling them to learn things that the public was not being told. These men were supposed to report back to BDN today.

Neon checked the time, scowling with displeasure. “They're late!” he growled.

That was not the only thing annoying him today, either. Several weeks ago, when he had first agreed to stay here, Neon had had no idea that he would be stuck here this long. And all because he could not say “no” to a damn woman!

BDN knew it was not the Thompson woman's fault that the Feds were watching her every move and that she needed some protection from goons who tried to get at her for information on Vash the Stampede. That damn reward was causing problems for her with inhabitants of the lower, less upright sections of December.

Neon did not begrudge his assistance with that since most of those miscreants deserved to be beaten to a bloody pulp, but it still irked him that he was the only one around to do it. The whole situation stunk, and BDN had had just about enough of it.

Me, Brilliant Dynamites Neon, reduced to protecting insurance ladies from harassment. Damned feds! They know she's been havin' trouble, but they won't do shit to help her!

Sitting down on the edge of a rock, Neon grumbled for a few more minutes, causing some of the newer recruits to the Bad Lads to stare at him oddly. BDN did not even notice them for a few minutes, too busy grousing about how punctuality was a virtue that made people sparkle. However, when the sound of whispering reached his ears, his turned, narrowing his eyes at them.

“What're you scumbags lookin' at?” he snapped.

“N-nothing, sir!” they stammered before moving off away from him.

“Hmph. Damn kids…” Neon muttered.

“Hey, boss!”

Neon watched as his second-in-command ran up to him, panting slightly. “What is it, Beremy?” he asked gruffly.

“The men...they're-”

“Pathetic!” Neon muttered loudly, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Why the hell did you recruit all these youngsters?”

Beremy stared. “Uh…boss?”

“Yeah, that's what I said! They're kids! Bad Lads are not supposed to be people who've just reached manhood, still wet behind the ears!”

“Boss-”

“I remember when I joined this gang in my mid-twenties. I tell you, those were the days when men were men! Not sniveling cowards!”

“Listen-”

“And then after a couple years of fine service, I kicked the old leader's ass and shot him through the head. Yeah, those were good times…”

“Boss!”

Neon grabbed the front of Beremy's Bad Lad suit, lifting him clear off his feet. “I don't like to be interrupted, Beremy,” BDN said, his tone ill-tempered, “especially when I'm reminiscing.”

“I know, but boss-!”

“What?”

“The men-!”

“What about `em?”

“They're back!”

BDN blinked once before dropping Beremy to the ground. “Why didn't ya say so in the first place?”

“I was trying to, boss, but you-!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Neon said dismissively. “Now, where are they?”

“Right here, sir.”

Neon looked over the men approaching him, each one a Bad Lad whom BDN had hand-picked to carry out this mission. They looked smart, dressed in suits and ties, as though they really were rich and wealthy men in power. In other words, each one looked exactly like any other typical city-slicker, sleaze ball. Still, they were “men,” and that was what mattered.

“So…looks like you guys are doing well,” Neon observed. “What've ya got for me? You,” he said, pointing at one of them, “you first. Anderson.”

Anderson, a tall man with brown hair and eyes, nodded. “Well, I've been listening in on some of the higher up conversations of the military. They received an interesting report today.”

“Yeah, and?” BDN prompted impatiently.

“It involves Vash the Stampede.”

Neon raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? How do they know it's the spiky bastard?”

“According to the report, a man with spiky blond hair in a red coat stopped at a small trading post about one hundred iles from here.”

“So?” Neon scoffed. “That could be a wannabe Stampede. Quit wasting my time.”

Anderson coughed. “He was traveling with a small, black-haired woman in overalls.”

Now that caught BDN's attention. “How long ago was this?”

“A couple days at least. It took a while for the message to get through. Apparently, one of the residents overheard them talking and snitched on them to the Feds for the reward.”

Neon frowned. That's odd. “Was there anyone else with them?”

Anderson shook his head. “No. Should there have been?”

Yeah. That Knives bastard. I wonder what happened to the son of a bitch. Neon waved his hand dismissively. “Do you know where they're headed?”

“They said they were going to Inepril.”

“Inepril, huh?” Neon said speculatively. “That's a good ways away from here. It should take the Feds a while to get out there in force. And when they do go, they will bring out the big guns,” he said darkly.

“There's one other thing, sir.”

Neon stared at him. “What?”

The men exchanged glances for a moment before stepping aside, revealing Millie Thompson, her stun gun strapped over her shoulder and another blond-haired woman in red with a silver gun whom BDN did not recognize. Neon stared at them both for the moment, considering an adequate response.

“Two things,” Neon began. “One: What the hell are you doing here, Thompson? Two: Who the hell are you, Red?”

“My name is Marianne Aura Cayzen,” the blond replied smoothly, shifting the weapon casually in her hands.

“She's one of our contacts in the Stanton Federal Bureau,” Anderson said.

Neon cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I get it. So, how'd they buy you off?”

“They didn't buy me off, Brilliant Dynamites Neon!” Marianne said crossly. “I happen to know Vash the Stampede and respect him greatly. I'd rather not see anything happen to him.”

BDN lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, whoa, my mistake then! Don't get yer knickers in a knot!”

Before Marianne could snap back at him, Millie interrupted. “We want to go to Inepril.”

Neon blinked. “Say what?”

Millie stared back at him determinedly. “I said, we want to go to Inepril.”

“Oh, hell no! I ain't going way out to Inepril!” Neon exclaimed. “What? You want the get even more involved in this than you already are? Have you lost it?”

“Please, Mr. Neon!” Millie begged. “I'm really worried about Sempai! And…she and Mr. Vash might need out help!”

Then, before Neon could respond, Marianne said, “Or is the infamous Brilliant Dynamites Neon afraid of tangling with the Feds?”

That does it! “BEREMY!” Neon roared.

“Yes, boss?” the second lieutenant said hurriedly.

“Tell the maggots to get ready! We're movin' out!” he barked.

“W-where to?”

“Inepril!” Neon thundered before whirling on Marianne, looking her straight in the eye, a wicked grin on his face. “Brilliant Dynamites Neon,” he rasped angrily, “fears no one!”

Marianne smiled. “Prove it.”

Millie edged closer to Marianne. “Are you sure it's a good idea to get him all riled up like that?” she whispered.

“Well, it got him to agree, didn't it?” the Federal Marshal whispered back, a twinkle in her eye.

“True!”

Ignoring the women, BDN leapt up, striding towards the Bad Lads, who, upon Beremy's command, gathered together. Looking across the number assembled, BDN felt himself swell with pride. Damn it, but he was proud of his men, even though they were maggots!

“MAGGOTS! SCUMBAGS! AND LADIES ALL!” Neon boomed, his voice carrying across the assembly. “WE'RE GOING TO INEPRIL! GET READY TO MOVE OUT!”

A chorus of gruff, male voices rumbled back at him. “YEAH!”

 

 

-looks around- Wow…I'm alone. -pauses- Well, except for the crickets.

Crickets: -chirping-

Huh. Well, I guess I don't have anything to say. Except…

Crickets: CHIRPITY CHIRP CHIRP! (Translation: REVIEWS NOW PLEASE!)