Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Epidemic ❯ Hell's Musician ( Chapter 8 )

~*Chapter Seven - Hell's Musician*~

"Vash…there's something that…you and I need to discuss…"

Wolfwood sighed slightly as he peered down at his half-empty glass, the scent of cheap whiskey lingering up into his nose. This little bar wasn't much, but it was a nice respite from their several previous days on the road. It had been almost five days since Meryl had left them…almost four days since they'd left the hollow shell that had once been Inepriel behind…four days since the loss of Millie…four days since…since Nicholas had overstepped his boundaries as the Hand of God and remembered just how deeply his love for the outlaw ran. They'd came across this dinky little spot in the road just out of pure luck, and though it only had a bar and a restaurant, it would suffice for a nice break from the long, dusty road.

As it turned out, the bar wasn't the most kosher of establishments; almost all of the patrons were rather road-weary and lackluster, and while there did indeed have small ensemble of musicians performing soft background music on the stage, there was little more that could be said of the atmosphere past seedy.

Vash lowered his own glass from his lips curiously as he heard Wolfwood comment, his brow knitted in worry. Ever since that slight moment beside the fire those few nights ago, he had noticed that Nicholas had been alternately euphoric and saddened, though it was clear that the angel tried to hide his sadness every time the emotion welled upon him. This sudden, almost bipolar like behavior was troubling to Vash…and now, as he and Wolfwood sat in this bar in the far back, he couldn't help but notice that the priest's behavior seemed of the darker, more unhappy sort…and his question was a bit unsettling.

"…What is it, Nick?" he asked quietly, setting his glass down with a faint tinkle. His viridian eyes gazed upon Nicholas' partially shaded face with faint worry and compassion. The outlaw shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gloved hand still gripping the glass with faint worry…He understood that the angel was still coping with the confusion of his inability to save the girls…both of them were still pained by the loss…but this was not the same sort of sorrow that passed over Wolfwood's face when he looked up at Vash, his smile faded and worn…He wasn't foolish enough to think that Wolfwood would be able to remain here forever…Vash could tell…by the way that the angel kept staring forlornly into his whiskey, he had a dreadful feeling that perhaps…this impending departure might be the cause of his consternation…

"I'm…Please don't get me wrong…" Wolfwood said as he noted the unsure look in the gunslinger's eyes. He offered the outlaw a faint smile and reached out, putting his hand gently on Vash's. He was leaning forward in his chair slightly, keeping his back from touching the seat because his broken wing, while no long visible, still ailed him though none could see it, and sighed. "I'm very happy…and lucky that I have you…but…I'm saddened…not for myself…but for you, Vash…" he said quietly, and looked rather downtrodden. "I was sent here to solve this mystery…of these demons…and this disease…and when we've solved it, Vash…I have to leave…and you will be alone…" He trailed off for a moment, looking pained. "And…I hate the thought of that…you've suffered far too much in your life to have to suffer such loss again…" he said, and bowed his head. "But I have no choice…it seems I never have a choice when it comes to you…Ah, damn it," he said sharply, though his voice was still quiet. "I shouldn't have even kissed you…then at least the separation would have been less painful…"

"Nick…" Vash said quietly, taking up the angel's hand gently, "I'd rather have these few weeks…or even days…in your arms, than to have never kissed you…"

Wolfwood looked up quietly as he heard these words, and gave Vash a soft expression, knowing that the outlaw spoke naught but the truth…he could see it in his eyes.

"…I know…" he whispered slightly, and looked down at the grain of the table slowly as he began to fall back into his thoughts. "So…I suppose we should make the most of the time we've been given…" he said softly, and squeezed Vash's hand gently. As he raised his head to meet his viridian eyes with a mental cobalt kiss, his eyes were suddenly drawn to the shadow of a woman standing over them. Coughing suddenly, both he and Vash moved back from each other, releasing each other's fingers, and slowly, the priest looked up at the barmaid offhandedly.

"Miss?"

If she had taken any notice of the tender moment she had walked in on, she paid it no heed, and primly gestured to the half-empty glass sitting near Wolfwood's elbow.

"Might I get you some more spirits?" she asked strictly, as though she wasn't quite sure how a waitress might act towards customers. Frowning slightly, thinking that she might be new at this, he shook his head and sighed.

"No…I'm fine. You can take it," he remarked, trying not to smirk wryly at the inadvertent pun the woman had just made, and watched her as she took his glass and walked back across the commons to the bar, where she handed the glass over to the elderly, rather stuff bartender, who was randomly wiping a glass down with a grimy rag. As the angel's eyes fell upon the various men who littered the ramshackle tables, all dressed rather raggedly, he couldn't help but notice that something seemed to be a bit…off about them. Each one had a tankard of some sort in their hand, all filled with some sort of alcohol…but each tankard seemed to be full…And they all seemed to be subtly glancing in Vash and his general direction…as though they were expecting something…or waiting for something…It wasn't the usual looks he and the outlaw had received when entering a bar before…these were far more calculating…

"I guess you've noticed it too…haven't you?" came Vash's voice from across the table, and slowly, Wolfwood turned his eyes away from the crowd to peer at the outlaw curiously. Vash looked grim and suspicious. "They've been watching us ever since we walked in the door," he murmured softly so that only Wolfwood might hear. The priest raised his eyebrows a bit as Vash made this assertion, and sat up slightly, leaning away from the outside of the table. He met Vash's wary expression with one of his own, and frowned deeply.

"Vash…do these people seem a bit…not quite right to you?" he asked carefully, but before Vash had a chance to answer, a soft musical solo began to play through the now quiet bar. It was an eerie, haunting melody…soft, lyrical, and very skilled…and yet so chilling that it sent a prickle up the back of Wolfwood's neck.

"No…no, it's not possible…" Vash murmured softly as the eerie solo continued, and as Wolfwood turned to look at him, he saw that Vash was staring at him with a rather freaked look on his face. His green eyes were widened slightly, and he was clutching his glass so hard that the container was almost bending under the exertion. "It can't be…I saw him kill himself…I watched him die…right there…" he continued, and kept his eyes focused on Wolfwood's slowly darkening, suspicious face.

"That's true…but death didn't stop me," the angel murmured quietly, slowly looking up from the table and into Vash's face. "…What makes you think it stopped him?"

Vash inhaled a little at Wolfwood's assertion, his eyes gleaming with complete unease in the dim, smoky light. He was still for a long moment; him and the priest exchanging words through their eyes, when the song faded into the background and the band ceased their haunting melody.

"That was for the two gentlemen in the back," came a smooth, almost silky voice from across the now silent room, and both the priest and the outlaw froze as they heard faint footfalls step down from the stage and across the room over to the bar. Carefully, almost hesitantly, both of them began to turn their heads and look towards the bar, as though fearing what they might see. Their eyes fell upon a man clad all in black standing at the bar, speaking quietly to the tender. After a moment, as the tender went to prepare a pair of drinks, the man stood a bit straighter and tilted his head up a bit, as though in thought.

"Back from the dead, I see…" the man replied in that same smooth, silky tone, and Wolfwood's eyes narrowed as he began to rise gradually from his seat, a clearly unwelcome look on his face. The tender returned with the two drinks about then, and after accepting them with a nod of his head, the man turned slowly and watched Vash and Wolfwood quietly, a slight smile playing on his handsome face. After a moment, his eyes shifted from the both of them to focus completely on Nicholas, and cordially, he extended a hand, offering the angel one of the drinks.

"For old times' sake, Chapel?" Midvalley the Hornfreak asked, a knowing smile alighting on his lips as he watched the suspicious look on the priest's face darken into one of bitter hatred. The musician seemed to be delighting in the unbridled hatred and badly hidden pain in the angel's eyes, because he continued to smile despite it all. He could practically smell the fractured, bloodied wing from here… "And for Vash, of course…I wouldn't dream of leaving him out of our little reunion…"

Wolfwood's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Vash, and he quickly turned to look at Vash, who was now standing as well, his expression a mixture of horror and suspicion. He remembered Midvalley's last assignment involving Vash…

"You leave him out of this, Midvalley…" the priest said darkly, and gave him a look full of spite. "Old times…" he scoffed, trying not to wince from the pain radiating up his back. He gave Midvalley a defiant, unwelcome look, and peered at the proffered drink as though it were poison. "I never once trusted a drink from you...don't think I'm about to start now..." The priest narrowed his eyes darkly, and cast a glance over at Vash, who was rising as well, looking alarmed and uneasy at the sight of his foe back from the dead. "Still on Knives' leash?" Wolfwood continued, sounding slightly smug, perhaps at the fact that he no longer held any connection to Vash's brother.

Midvalley's expression changed very little, though the smile quickly faded as he withdrew the hand that still held the drink, and set it down on the bar, his eyes never leaving Wolfwood's.

"I see death hasn't changed you…Chapel," he said slickly, knowing well that the mere utterance of the old nickname sparked anger and defiance in the former Gung-Ho Gun. "You're still the same traitor and deserter I remember…"

Vash watched the exchange silently; the hatred between the two was so thick that he could practically cut it with a knife, but every time that Midvalley saw fit to refer to Wolfwood as "Chapel", he noticed that the angel's grip on his chair tightened in rage.

"You know…this whole talk of desertion and being a traitor…" Wolfwood said grimly, though there was still a smug note about his voice. "You talk of freedom like it's a bad thing…You're nothing but Knives' slave, Midvalley…" he said, a bit of a self-satisfied smile finding its way to his lips. "Little more than a slave…I pity you…really, I do…"

Midvalley's face didn't change as he heard Wolfwood's cold words; his dark eyes remained fixed on the angel's radiant, defiant face, and faintly, a small smile crept onto his lips as he let a hand fall onto Sylvia's silvery keys.

"I wonder, Chapel..." he began, his voice somewhat offhand and casual, but he paused, as though rethinking his words. "…No, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, if that's what you're calling yourself..." He smiled at the rage that boiled up in the priest's eyes, and continued. "I wonder…where you got the impression that I was still working for Knives..."

Silently, as he watched Vash and Wolfwood's eyes widen slightly in confusion, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers, the faint, somewhat cruel smile still playing casually on his lips.

"Nick!" Vash suddenly cried, and as Wolfwood went to turn his head to look at him, the outlaw leapt at him, knocking their table and chairs to the ground with a crash. The couple fell to the floor with a loud thud as one of the patrons leapt at where the priest had just been standing, and the man gave a horrible hiss of anger as his baleful crimson eyes glared at Vash for hindering his efforts. The outlaw's eyes widened as he watched the men, maids, and even the tender's forms began to shift, and he suddenly understood just what had seemed so off about them…

"They're demons!" came Wolfwood's pained cry as he struggled to get to his feet, but Vash's weight against him coupled with the searing pain that falling to the ground had caused his already woeful wound kept him pinned. "Vash! Get off!" he said as he tried to push the gunslinger away, but after a moment, he didn't need to, as the swarm of hellspawn fell upon them, wrapping their gruesome claws around Vash's arms and yanking him up and away from the angel.

Vash pulled back from the creatures as they hauled him painfully to his feet, and stumbled back a bit, his face contorted in rage and disgust. Their grotesque faces sneered at him as their claws seized at his crimson coat, yanking him along, their vile, hellish laughter ringing in his ears. Their talons tore at his flesh through the coat, drawing thin lines of blood along his scarred skin as he tried to pull away, but he gritted his teeth against the slight pain. Why weren't they trying to injure him further?

The sound of someone crying out in horrific pain behind him caused Vash to pause in his struggle and turn sharply. He could barely make out Wolfwood, who was still partially on the ground, though the vile things were quickly overbearing him. The scent of blood from reopened wounds hit his nostrils as the creatures began to shove Vash towards Midvalley, along with the Cross Punisher, perhaps so that the angel couldn't get to his weapons. Gritting his teeth as he saw Wolfwood almost manage to stand up, but only to be borne down to the ground again, Vash suddenly cried out in rage at the demons and plowed forward, extending his left hand. For a brief moment, there was silence as Vash's hand moved in an impossible way, and the demons that stood before him paused, watching the spectacle of such pure, unbridled rage…There was a moment where Vash's eyes flashed dangerously, and suddenly, the sound of several hundred gunshots filled the room, and the demons separating he and Wolfwood hissed and flew back in pain as the hidden cybernetic arm, previously blessed as well, began to release its own brand of fury. For a brief second, there was nothing but a blur of crimson as the outlaw moved with incredible speed, and the demons drew away, screeching in pain as the divinely imbued bullets ravaged their flesh.

Back near the bar, Midvalley leaned casually against the surface, one hand still resting against his beloved saxophone, the other holding a drink to his lips as he watched the brawl with mild interest. If all went well, he wouldn't hardly have to raise a finger…the demons would finish off Wolfwood, and Vash would have no where else to go but with him…back to his brother…

There was a sharp burst of white light from the crowd around the angel about then, which brought Midvalley's eyes directly back to where Wolfwood had fallen. The demons flew back with such force that the support beams holding the roof up cracked and creaked dangerously, and from the bloody heap, the musician watched with faint surprise as Nicholas staggered to his feet, his entire being glowing slightly from the exertion of divine power. Blood trailed down the side of his face, and his entire front was scratched and gashed from cruel talons. His shirt and suit jacket were ripped almost entirely open, bloodied and torn, but as he stood, he fixed Midvalley with a determined, spiteful look and reached into his jacket. Midvalley went to stand a bit as he watched the angel pull out his Remington automatic, and paused as the pistol was aimed.

Vash ceased in his bloody, enraged rampage as a sounding, single gunshot rang through the bar, silencing all the occupants. Panting breathlessly, Vash watched Nicholas as he stood there, his pistol smoking slightly, and as a defiant, knowing smile curved up onto his lips. The angel was clearly ragged and worn out, and bleeding badly, which still perplexed Vash…how could an angel be wounded if they were immortal?

Midvalley frowned slightly for a moment as he met Wolfwood's defiant, smirking face, and slowly, he glanced down at his chest, where the bullet had ripped through his suit and into his chest. A faint ring of brackish blood began to seep out along the edges, and he couldn't help but wince. That really had hurt…but blessed weapons were about all he had to worry about from this angel…He knew well that angels could not possess the full power to deter demons; that was God's ability, and none other's. After another moment, he slowly raised his dark eyes back to meet his assailant's, whose gaze still was steeped in satisfied loathing, and slowly, faintly smiled.

"…What…?" Wolfwood asked in a breathy, hoarse voice, his battered cheat heaving breathlessly as he watched the musician smile and seemingly toss aside the fact that he'd been shot through the chest.

Vash narrowed his eyes warily; he knew that Midvalley's death meant more to him than it did to Wolfwood…after all; the priest hadn't been there to witness it…And if the priest's words were true…and death hadn't stopped Midvalley…and Midvalley was using these demons…then…

Midvalley simply smiled at Wolfwood's confusion, ignoring the sting that radiated from the divine wound, and brought his near-empty glass to his lips, slowly finishing off his drink. After he pulled the glass away, he looked at it for a second before setting it down on the bar with a faint scraping sound, and brought his now free hand back to Sylvia's keys with a knowing glint in his dark eyes. With a faint expulsion of breath, he took the sax into his able hands and closed his eyes lightly as he brought the mouthpiece slowly to his lips. As he did this, the horde of demons backed away slowly, leaving Vash and Wolfwood alone…they understood what that saxophone meant…He was to take care of this himself.

A second gunshot wracked the room, and the musician gasped as the reed and ligature exploded around his mouth, sending bits of plastic, metal, and wood flying everywhere. As he leaned his head back in shock at the sudden interruption, a third gunshot sounded, striking the thumbpad near the back of the instrument, causing the entire saxophone to fall from even Midvalley's well-trained grasp. It seemed to fall slowly to his feet, but as it struck the stone floor with a sounding crashing sound, the entire room fell lethally silent.

Both Vash and Wolfwood stood at the ready, their respective guns aimed at where Sylvia had once been held. They were watching the instrumentalist with steady, wary eyes, waiting for him to do anything…anything at all. But he remained still for a long moment, his face hidden as he stared at his beloved saxophone, destroyed at his feet. His expression was completely unreadable, and after a moment, Vash spared a glance over to Wolfwood, whom he winced at upon seeing. The demons really had done a number on him…it was a wonder he was still conscious. But Wolfwood did not look to Vash…his eyes were fixed on Midvalley, his gun still aimed. A gritty, darkly triumphant grin was beginning to surface on his gashed and bloodied face as he watched the former Gung-Ho Gun begin to tremble slightly; it was just the reaction he'd been expecting.

"…What the Hell did you just do…" came the soft, enraged question as Midvalley slowly raised his eyes to look at both the outlaw and the priest with uninhibited detestation and ire. His dark brown eyes, glinting slightly with subdued flecks of hellish crimson, held uncontestable fury as he slowly straightened his shoulders and stood back at full height.

"I would think that'd be rather obvious by now," Wolfwood said cockily, though his voice was growing a bit weak. He gruffly ignored the blood that trickled down the side of his face, knowing that the impending fight would strain his sapped strength quite a bit. He couldn't deny the fact that those demons may have done more damage that he'd accounted for…and if Midvalley was leading them…"You're the one that's behind all this destruction, aren't you?" he spat, a few flecks of blood spattering across his lips as he spoke. "The one to blame for these demons…"

Midvalley paused as he listened to Wolfwood's words, his rage boiling underneath his outwardly calm exterior. He tilted his head slightly, as though trying to see into the angel's mind, and chuckled faintly.

"You have no idea…do you?" he asked, his voice soft and deadly. "I am hardly the one to blame for this planet's misfortune…but you…Chapel…Nicholas…you won't leave this tavern with your soul intact. So are my orders…"

"Vash!" Wolfwood shouted as he felt a surge of darkness overwhelm his weary senses. He turned his eyes to the outlaw, knowing that Vash's unmatched speed would be his only salvation now. Vash caught the desperate look in the priest's eyes, and understood. Now was when he had to act…before Midvalley could carry out his so-called 'orders'. With a sure aim, he raised his revolver, knowing that the demon's attention rested fully on the wounded angel, and fired his last round. As the sound filled the room, he began to move unspeakably fast, ducking through the crowds of lesser demons as nothing more than a crimson shadow, firing continually and reloading, trying to keep the demon's eyes from Wolfwood, who was also now on the move. He knew that his simple bullets would only do minimal damage…but he had to hope that Wolfwood would come through…

As several more gunshots sounded, several of which seemed to merely glance off of him, Midvalley sharply turned his head towards Vash the Stampede as he darted through the tavern, making use of all his surroundings. He could see a flash of faint white to one side, but he knew that the angel posed no threat. He was far too weak to injure him further; he wielded no power great enough to turn him back from this world…

Slowly, he began to walk forward, his eyes still glittering with the hellish crimson, and stepped through the throng of demons towards the outlaw, who still moved too quickly for the naked eye to follow. He paid little heed to the bullets, both those that struck and those meant to fly wide. He could tell when Vash meant to miss…Vash the Stampede never missed on accident. He'd learned this well.

"Your efforts to aid the angel are…commendable…but pointless," he aid, his voice still smooth and silky, but there was a new, underlying tone of menace…rage…hatred…

Suddenly, Vash paused in his movements, tumbling out from under a table, gun at the ready. His face was slightly flushed, and he was clearly breathless. His revolver was aimed directly at Midvalley, and a smile crept up on his face.

"Are they?"

A sharp, searing pain abruptly began to lash through him as he felt a pair of strong hands press forcibly down upon his shoulders, and a horrible shout of pain and rage filled the room as divine power flowed through him, and over his shoulder, he saw the smoldering, determined cobalt eyes of the angel he had thought bore no power.

"How?! How could an angel-"

Nicholas smiled grittily, chuckling mirthlessly.

"I'm not just an angel…tell your…Master…that he's dealing with more than he bargained for…"

There was a sudden burst of iridescent light as a second howl of anger and fury filled the ramshackle little tavern, and after Vash's eyes cleared, he looked up from where he knelt at Wolfwood, his dry determination fading into concern. Every demon that had been there was gone…and only the priest remained.

The angel was rather pale, and he was breathing heavily as he dropped his hands from where Midvalley's shoulders had once been. His shirt and jacket were tattered from the lashes of demonic talons, and were stained with the blood that still seeped from various gashes along his formerly unmarred chest. Blood dripped out from the corner of his mouth, and a large bruise was beginning to form on his cheek. As he staggered back slightly, sweat shining lightly on his brow, he turned his head wearily to look at Vash, who had stood, eyes filled with worry, and gave a faint, triumphant chuckle before his face paled further, and the smile faded from his face.

"Nicholas!" Vash cried, and he ran forward, knocking tables and chairs over as the angel collapsed from his wounds, and fell into Vash's ready arms. The outlaw slowly sank to his knees, cradling his wounded love against his chest, and went to brush a few dark strands from his scratched face. "Oh God…Nick…"

The only response he received was a sickly grunt and a slight trembling as the angel cringed slightly, coughing a bit of blood past his lips.

"Don't worry, Nick…I'll make you better…I just…I just wish I understood why you were so injured…why they hurt you so…and why Midvalley…why was he here…what does he have to do with this…God, I can't lose you so soon…I won't let you leave; not before we've finished…"

~*~

Author's Notes:

So we've faced the first of Knives' three generals…I hope Midvalley was characterized well! I had much help! And don't you guys be worrying about Wolfwood…I've got plans for our deal little angel…

So, to the victors go the spoils:

Thanks so much to Foresythe (Of "Kiss My Gun!" fame…^_^ I love you!)! She was my lifesaver when it came to writing Midvalley, and she made sure all my crap didn't suck. I just hope the ending wasn't too crappy…I was fighting my muses the whole way.

So, looking forward to Chapter 8…

No fighting! Huzzah! Just relationship development…and questions are raised, and some questions are answered…