Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Under the Five Moons ❯ Bladestorm ( Chapter 8 )

I don't own Trigun or any of its characters. Blah blah blah.

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"HEY! WHERE ARE OUR FRIES?"

The waiter shook his head. Weren't priests supposed to be nice and well mannered? Especially older ones? This guy had gray streaking through his otherwise black hair, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and the conservative dress of a good priest. Except for the black collar. That was kind of weird. So was the cross-thing he had propped up against the wall behind him.

"Coming up sir!" the waiter said. He picked up the platter of French fries and slid it in front of the obnoxious priest and his spiky-haired young friend. At least, he hoped it was his friend. He had heard things about some priests… Nah, not this guy.

Vash grabbed a bottle on the table, turned it over, and started pounding on the bottom. He unscrewed the lid and poured it out on the fries. He put the bottle back on the table and screwed the lid back on. Wolfwood put his chin in his hand and stared at Vash, who was already inhaling the fries.

Eventually, Vash realized that Wolfwood was staring at him, and stopped eating. He looked down at the fries, then grinned nervously. "Did you happen to want ketchup on your fries?"

"Luckily for you, yes I did." He reached across the table and smacked Vash in the side of the head. "But next time, ask." He reached down and grabbed a fry, his chin still in his hand. He surveyed the semi-seedy bar they had stopped in, the broken glass, the cigarette butts littering the floor, and the green-eyed cat sleeping on the bar. He caught his reflection in the mirror.

"It's just not fair."

"What's not fair?"

Wolfwood pointed to his hair. "This." He pointed to the wrinkles under his eyes. "And this." He shook his head. "Why? Why did I come back like this?"

"Hey, don't complain, most people don't get to come back at all."

"Yeah I know. I'm still trying to cope with the coming back to life part."

Vash swallowed a fry. "How?"

"By ignoring it for the time being." Wolfwood shook his now grizzled head. "I figure I can cope with it one step at a time, starting with the old thing. Which, as I said, doesn't seem fair."

"Again, how so?"

"Because all the memories I have are of being in my twenties. In fact, for all intents and purposes my mind is the mind of a man in his late twenties. I find myself in the body of a man in his late forties, which shouldn't even seem possible."

He reached down and grabbed a French fry. "I mean, like say if we ran into Millie while we were looking for your brother. Could she still love me? Could I still love her? I may physically look older, but mentally I'm the person she fell in love with twenty-one years ago. That's a long time Vash. Maybe not for you, but it's a long time for us humans. Who's to say that I'm still what she wants now? Who's to say that I'll still want her?" He bit into the fry.

"And then there's this son thing. He never had a father before in his life, just a father figure in you. Now he's got one, but a father who's only really had about six or seven more years experience than he does. How do I confront this kid anyway? Geeze it's all so confusing." He pulled a cigarette from his jacket, along with a match. "I mean, from my point of view, I'm going to end up living twenty-years less than a normal person, assuming I die of old age."

"You were probably going to do that anyway." Vash muttered, as Wolfwood lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

Wolfwood breathed out the smoke. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"I mean, you get what I'm saying, don't you Vash? No, I don't suppose you would. You don't age at all. It's been twenty-one years and you look the same as the day I died. 'Cept for your hair." He pointed at the ever-growing patch of black on Vash's formerly blonde hair.

Vash touched the growing black patch reflexively. Damn, he had noticed. Well, how could he not? It was getting pretty damn obvious these days. "Maybe I should start dyeing it." Vash thought.

"Hey! Vash! Are you even listening to me?"

Vash shook his head rapidly. "Wha- what?"

Wolfwood chuckled. "And I thought I was self-conscious about my hair." He took a fry from the plate. "We need more ketchup."

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"Why are you still following me?"

"I'm not following you, we just happen to be going in the same direction, that's all."

Evans snorted. After he had heard that it was his old detachment coming in to investigate, he had decided to leave before he had to deal with his old captain. "Smirking jackass," Evans thought, "he doesn't really care about my little one night stand. I'm hardly the first to ride that bike."

"What's wrong? You look annoyed," Calamity said. Evans had let her go when he left, but she had been traveling in the same direction as him for a while now.

"Maybe I'm annoyed because you're following me," Evans responded.

Calamity rushed in front of Evans and turned around, staring at his face as she walked backwards. "No, it's not just me. If it was just me, you would've been started looking annoyed a while ago." She turned her head on its side. "Does this have anything to do with why you left without waiting for the rest of the Cavalry?"

"Don't ask."

"Maybe it has something to do with why you're on bounty duty? I hear that's like the worst it gets for Cavalry, duty-wise."

"Shut up Calamity."

Calamity tilted her head to the side. "Well, aren't you having a bad day?"

"HEY LEUTIENANT! CLARISSA!"

Calamity stopped short, Evans, unable to slow down quick enough, banged into her. They fell over and rolled down a dune, landing side by side at the bottom.

"That's who I think it is, right?"

"Who else would call me Clarissa?"

"You two need help?" Meryl called down from the top of the dune.

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"There we go," Wolfwood said as he loaded the last cartridge into his cross. "As good as new."

"It better be. I spent every double dollar I had buying ammunition for that stupid thing. How are we going to eat?" Vash said. He shook his head.

Wolfwood swung the Cross Punisher up onto his shoulder and they started walking off. "People always need to have their sins lifted from them." He clapped his hands together as if praying. "I will happily take up my role as a priest again and listen to their burdens. For a fee of course."

Vash raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to do that without your church-box-thing?"

"It's a confessional, and I don't need it, for the will of God is everywhere."

"You'd think dying would have made you a better priest."

"Whoa, below the belt Vash."

They walked into the town square, surrounded by a bank, a bar, a bordello, and a bed house. The bar's windows were smashed, letting anyone who wanted one a view of the chaos within. Tables were snapped, bottles were crushed, and people lay all over, either dead or unconscious. Probably dead. Most people need all their blood in their systems. The only peaceful thing was a poncho wearing form sitting against the bar. A black Stetson was pushed down in front of his eyes, and he appeared to be sleeping.

Vash and Wolfwood looked in with curiosity. "Must've been some hell of a bar fight," Wolfwood said, "I wonder what happened."

The poncho moved and a voice came from within the hat. "Knives."

At the sound of that word, the cigarette fell from Wolfwood's mouth.

"He, he did this?" Vash asked.

"No no no," the drunk said, unfolding himself from the floor. His hazel eyes twinkled, laughing at some inner joke of their own. A scar ran perpendicular to his face, from the corner of his mouth to the creases of his right eye. "Not Knives." He flicked his wrist and three blades appeared in his hand. He pointed them at Vash and Wolfwood. "I meant knives." His arm drew back and shot forward with blinding speed. Vash and Wolfwood didn't even flinch as the knives flew past their faces and embedded themselves in a support post.

Vash's hand strayed towards the butt of his gun. "Who are you? How do you know about Knives?"

The man with the poncho chuckled. "I'm just a messenger. Knives and Legato send their regards, and apologize that they couldn't make it here personally."

Wolfwood lit another cigarette. "Legato's dead pal."

The man in the poncho smirked. "So are you padre. So is Martinez. An awful lot of corpses are walking Gunsmoke, wouldn't you say?" The man picked up a glass from the table. It seemed to be the only intact one in the entire place. "The master was mightily pissed when he learned that you had regained control. Yes he was. You were to be the piece de resistance of Vash's suffering. Having to fight, and even kill his old friend. He waited 'til the last to do it too. Didn't want to blow his cover, ya see." The man shook his head. "It's a shame Julius fucked it up so badly. That would've been fun to watch. As it is, no more Julius."

"What a damn shame," Wolfwood said, "Do you happen to know why I was brought back looking like this?"

The man shrugged. "To be honest I wasn't really paying attention when Julius explained it to me."

"Great," Wolfwood said.

"Of course, his anger then was nothing compared to his anger with you Vash. With Julius, it had been quiet and controlled. But when he found out about you! Wow."

Vash looked puzzled. "Found out about me what?"

The man chugged the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar. "That's exactly my message to you, Vash the Stampede. Pain. Pain for your abomination."

Vash screwed his face up, trying to figure out what the hell this meant.

Wolfwood took another drag on his cigarette. "If you're just a messenger, why all this?"

The man shrugged. "I got bored waiting for you guys to show up." He looked at his watch. "In fact, I've still got to wait for my ride, and I don't see why I can't have some fun while I wait."

The man in the poncho bowed. "Johnny the Bladestorm's the name. Let's play." He straightened up and flung his arm out. Two daggers whistled through the air towards Vash and Wolfwood. They threw themselves to the side.

Vash rolled and came up holding his gun. "I thought Knives didn't want me dead!"

"Who says I'm trying to kill you?" Johnny shouted back.

Vash turned to Wolfwood, who was clutching his cross. "I thought you said Knives had only two more Gung-Ho Guns!"

Wolfwood shrugged, and started unwrapping his cross. "Maybe he went on some kind of recruiting drive!"

Johnny's voice floated in through the window. "C'mon out gentlemen! It's no fun if you stay out there!" Five more knives came flying out. Vash turned and fired into the window. Johnny was good though. He flipped to the side, spinning in mid-air, letting dagger after dagger fly.

Vash darted back behind the wall, just avoiding a very close haircut. "Where does he find these guys?"

Wolfwood turned into the window and fired off a couple of rounds in Johnny's direction, again missing. "I dunno, he's your brother!"

"Yeah, but you worked for him!"

"You're the outlaw!"

"Well you're the prie… wait a minute, what?"

"Actually, he put an ad in the local paper."

They looked up. Johnny was standing on the roof of the bar. His arms pumped and two knives came speeding down towards Vash and Wolfwood. Vash raised his gun and shot both of them off course. They jumped up and ran towards the better cover of the fountain.

"How many knives can this guy be carrying?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Johnny jumped down from the roof and yanked seven his daggers out from the support posts. A flick of his wrists and they were gone again. Vash dove towards the fountain. While he dove, he twisted his body around and fired his remaining four bullets at the daggers, knocking off four of them. The other three sped towards Wolfwood, who blocked them with his cross.

"Damn, that's gonna leave a dent," Wolfwood said as he dived by Vash. He turned around and fired at Johnny, forcing him to hide behind the posts.

"He can't kill us, we can't kill him. We got ourselves a stand-off." Wolfwood said as he ducked behind the fountain.

"Since when have you had qualms about killing people?" Vash asked.

"Sixth commandment, my friend."

Vash counted off on his fingers. "Thou shalt not… ah." He snapped open his revolver and slid six bullets into it. "Maybe you aren't such a bad priest after all."

"I guess I'll take that as a complement!" Wolfwood said as he flipped his cross over.

Vash looked at him, aghast. "I thought you weren't going to kill anymore!"

Wolfwood nodded. "I'm not. I never said anything about property destruction."

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Evans, Millie, Calamity, and Meryl sat around a blazing fire. They had all removed their coats while warming themselves by the fire; it was too hot with the coats and the fire combined. Plus, Calamity had said that her coat should be nowhere near fire.

"Mmm, nothing like a good meal cooked over an open fire!" Millie said, removing the cooking skewers.

Evans looked up. "Is it a small desert creature?"

Meryl looked at him questioningly. "No, why?"

"No reason. I'll have some."

Millie passed around the rations and they dug in.

"Not bad," Evans said through a mouth of food.

Meryl smacked him over the head. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

Evans swallowed his food. "You really are Nikki's mother." He bolted down the rest of his food and reached into his vest. He pulled out a cigar case and removed a cigar. He lit in the fire.

Meryl scowled. "Do you really have to smoke?"

"Oh let it go Meryl, there's nothing really wrong with smoking out here. It'll drift away." Millie said.

Meryl was about to say something, then decided against it. Talking any more about smoking might bring memories of Wolfwood back. Poor woman, she hadn't even gotten a chance to visit his defiled grave before Jeremiah had run off again. She laid down her food and put her head in her hands. Why were they always running off? They just had too much of their fathers in them. Didn't they see how much that hurt the ones that loved them?

Calamity was still bolting down her food. Her hand stopped in front her mouth. "Someone's out there. Several someones."

Raucous laughter came out from the darkness. "Sounds like we've been found guys." Twelve men walked from the shadows, all of them armed. "That looks good, doesn't it guys?" their leader said.

"Yeah boss!"

Evans looked up smirked, and went back to enjoying his cigar. Calamity shrugged and went back to her food. Meryl and Millie; however, found their hands straying towards their guns.

"I wouldn't do that ladies," the boss said, cocking his rifle. "Now everyone get up off the ground and put your hands on your heads."

The small group just sat around the fire, smoking, eating, and looking at their weapons.

"What's wrong with you people? Huh?" The leader ranted. "We're pointing guns at your heads and you're ignoring us!" He pointed at Evans, "You're not even looking at me! Look at me Cavalry boy!" He took aim with the rifle and shot the cigar out of Evans hand.

"Ow!" Evans shook his hand to get the stinging feeling out.

"You guys really are intent on robbing us, aren't you?" Calamity said.

"Have you not been paying attention to a word we've been saying?"

The small group stood up. Evans reached inside his vest.

Click. "Watch it Cavalry boy!"

Evans held his hand up and pulled out his cigar case. He selected a cigar, cut off the end, and lit it with his lighter.

Meryl shrugged. "You leave us with no choice then."

The leader grinned wickedly. That cute red head might make for some fun later tonight.

Calamity nodded. "We'll just have to beat the crap out of all of you."

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Vash and Wolfwood stood behind two buildings on opposite sides of the street.

"Where on Gunsmoke is that guy keeping all those knives?" Vash gasped.

"Better question, where is he?" Wolfwood panted. "Fighting this guy is like fighting you Vash!"

"We're completely different!"

"Not so. You're both really fast, really accurate; you've both got eyes for motion detection. It's really like fighting you. 'Cept he uses knives and is a homicidal psycho."

"Which brings me back to my first question, where is he keeping all of them?"

Two daggers came flying from the other end of the street. Vash turned and shot the knife flying towards Wolfwood, but couldn't get his gun around quick enough to shot the other one. It hit the gun, sending it flying into the street.

"Tch, for someone whose not supposed to kill us, he's coming awfully close." Vash said. His left sleeve ripped open and his hand unhinged itself, making room for a nasty looking gun that slid out of his wrist.

Vash and Wolfwood and dashed out into the street, firing behind them at the ponchoed form that was now standing at the end of the street.

Johnny darted to the left, rolled the right, ran towards a wall, and jumped off against it. His hands darted into his poncho and came out with more knives.

Vash and Wolfwood down the street, pacing each other perfectly. Vash leaned down and scooped up his Long Colt. He turned around and fired at Johnny, who dove out of the way. Vash and Wolfwood hit another intersection, hung a sharp right and ran away.

Johnny stood up and brushed himself off. A door opened behind him. A man looked out. "Hey buddy, what's going on?"

Johnny chuckled. His hand shot out and a knife appeared to grow from the man's throat. "Nothin' you need to worry about. Well, not anymore." He ran off after Vash and Wolfwood.

Up on the rooftop, a predator lurked. He had already fed for the night, and he didn't even have to do any work for it. Johnny had done it for him. He should have stopped this long ago, but it was really interesting. He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. Well… he'd let it go on for ten more minutes, max. Any longer than that and Knives would start getting suspicious. Martinez shivered. He had been walking the night for a long time, and only a couple things really scared him. The thing that scared him the most these days wasn't crosses, the sun, garlic, or wooden stakes. It was staring into Knives' eyes, and getting the impression that he might be the prey one day.

"I know you hate humans, but I ain't no human.

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The banditos' jaws dropped. Were these guys serious? They were outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded.

"I'd like to see that, Cavalry boy," the boss said, approaching Evans until there was about seven inches of space between their noses.

Evans chuckled, his intentions hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses. He took the cigar out his mouth and blew a puff of smoke in the boss' face. Then he slammed the cigar down on the boss' exposed arm. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the air, sounding frighteningly like the sound of sizzling bacon.

"AHHHHHHH!" The boss screamed in pain. So caught up was the boss in his pain that he didn't notice that Evans' had dropped the cigar and had now punched him in the solar plexus. The only indication the boss had was the air suddenly rushed from his lungs and he was now gasping for oxygen. Evans ripped the rifle from his hands, the smacked him across the face with the butt of it.

While he was doing this, Calamity's hand shot down to the side pockets on her cargo pants. They came out two small gray disks each. Her hands shot out in front of her and the discs flew gracefully towards the banditos, adhering to their skin on impact.

The banditos looked at the strange discs, but only for a second. Electricity arced from disk to disk, causing the banditos to convulse, their hair standing on end.

Meryl dove for her coat, coming up with a derringer in each hand. She took aim and squeezed the triggers, hoping that her aim hadn't deteriorated behind a desk.

It hadn't. Meryl dropped the derringers and went for two new ones.

Millie had reacted just as quickly as everyone else, but she had to take off the safety on her gun. "This…safety's…stuck!" Suddenly a bolt flew from the barrel and slammed into a bandito. "There we go!" she said, turning to another bandito.

Evans finished with the boss and turned to the remaining four banditos. Ka-Chunk! Remaining three banditos. One of the banditos finally got over his shock and raised his rifle at Evans, the others followed suit. The took aim and…

Bang! Bang! Bang!

There's something amazing about the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. It's quiet, but it's an attention grabber, no mistake. It says, "I just pulled out something sharp that can remove the internal organ of your choice."

Schink!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

"Not fast enough boys," Evans said as he dashed towards the banditos. He clouted the middle one with his sword, and used the momentum to spin around and elbow the left one in the gut. They both knelt on the ground in pain. Evans stuck his sword in the sand, and knocked their head together.

The remaining armed bandito's Adam's apple rose and fell. Dark stains appeared on his shirt. However, being a master survivor, he dropped his gun. "I'm sure that no more violence is needed," he spurted.

His companions, the conscious ones anyway, nodded their head in agreement.

A thought struck Meryl. "You guys wouldn't happen to have a car or something around here, would you?"

The banditos glanced at each other.

"We can't tell 'em."

"The boss wouldn't like it!"

"Yeah, he'd be real mad!"

Calamity knelt down and started to rifle through her coat. "Now where did I put my tasers?"

"We got a truck, it's right over here!" A bandito said, pointing over his shoulder.

Evans turned to Calamity. "You know, you're starting to grow on me."

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Vash turned another corner; then threw himself against the wall. Wolfwood quickly followed suit.

"We have to get away from the town," Vash said, "Before this guy kills anymore people just for the hell of it!"

Wolfwood nodded. "Yeah." He pointed to the bus. "Got any cash left at all?"

Vash shook his head. "I'm out."

"So much for that idea."

Two daggers grew from the wall between them. "Does this guy ever get tired?" Wolfwood said. He looked around. "Hey, the red-eye steamer's about to leave!"

"Your point?"

"Tell 'em that you're the Stampede, maybe they'll let us on if we act as guards!" Wolfwood grabbed Vash and dragged him along the street.

"But I don't like to capitalize on my name like that! Besides, last time I did that the steamer got hijacked!"

"Too bad Tongari!" Wolfwood shouted, dragging Vash by his spiky hair.

Johnny the Bladestorm stood in the shadows, the wind blowing his poncho back. A shadow within in the shadows fell down from a rooftop, then rose behind Johnny. It resolved itself into a pale man with close-cropped brown hair, green eyes, and a closed brown coat.

"That's enough Johnny," Martinez said.

Johnny chuckled. "Spoil-sport."

Martinez put his hands behind his back and shrugged his shoulders. "I know. But do you really want Legato angry at you? Don't think he won't hesitate to kill you. You're just another parasite, albeit a very useful one."

"Of course I am. I never claimed to be anything more. Let's go."

They retreated into the shadows.

"If we're parasites, what are you Martinez?"

"A parasite's parasite."

Johnny chuckled and spun a knife in his hand.

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Calamity: I grew up without anyone. My teachers were in the schools of hard knocks and pain. My brothers and sisters were other urchins. Competition for any food we could get our hands on. No parents, no friends, nothing. My models were the more successful thieves and outlaws, those who got what they wanted. Now I am one. A model for future outlaws? Do I really want little kids growing up to be like me? Should anyone want kids growing up to a model? Next Chapter: The Wild Bunch

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#$%#%* school. I can't update as nearly as often as I'd like. At least until I finally get all of my college application crap done with. Eh, whatever. Just remember that patience is a virtue. So is reviewing. There really is nothing a writer likes more than feedback. We like it more than free pizza. Okay, maybe not that much.