Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ Vermin ( Chapter 13 )

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

 

A/N: You guys don't know how much of a miracle it is that I'm posting at all tonight! I had such a hellish week at school that I thought this chapter would have to be postponed until next Friday. BUT I worked my butt off and managed to scrape up enough time to write. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

Vermin

 

Meryl winced as she tried to pull her legs out from under the wreckage of her bed. She had been trying to escape ever since Knives had left the house about ten minutes ago. The cuts on her arms had since ceased to bleed although they were now caked with crusty, dried out blood. The wounds still stung slightly, but the pain had subsided mostly. In any case, Meryl was more concerned with other things at the moment.

She knew there was only one thing that could have made Knives leave without finishing what he had started. Since he had left her stuck underneath the ruins of her own bed, Meryl had heard loud, possibly explosive, noises coming from the center of town. She had reached the same conclusion Knives apparently had: Vash was stirring up trouble again.

Just from what Meryl had heard about Knives, it seemed like he cared about his brother a great deal, in a sick kind of way of course. After all, Knives really had gone about winning Vash over to his side entirely the wrong way. Killing Vash's closest friends certainly was a rather extreme way to win Vash over.

Meryl grimaced as she tried to yank her legs out once again. Damn him...

Tugging just with her legs wasn't working. Meryl would have to use both hands to do this. Wrapping both blood encrusted hands around her right leg, she began to pull. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Broken pieces of wood and the mattress weighed heavily on Meryl's legs, scraping against them as she pulled. Meryl continued to tug on her leg, gritting her teeth as it slid slowly out and towards her. Then, she yanked roughly on it, causing the leg to pop out suddenly, causing her to lose her balance and fall over backwards.

As she her back hit a loose piece of the headboard, Meryl felt her ankle catch on something. However, her momentum caused the leg to pop out anyway, wrenching her ankle mercilessly. Meryl bit her lip to keep herself from crying out in pain. Sitting up slowly, she lifted up her pants leg. Her ankle was swollen, and it was likely to become black and blue.

Meryl ran a finger over her ankle lightly. It throbbed beneath her touch. Sighing, Meryl shifted her position in the debris a little bit, preparing to pull her other leg out. Judging by the way the bed parts were piled, Meryl was pretty sure she could remove this one with less difficulty.

I'm not going to yank anymore, though, she muttered to herself.

Firmly clasping her hands over her left leg, she began to wriggle her leg and ankle around, gently pulling every now and then, hoping she would be able to free completely free herself without hurting herself like she had last time. Her leg was sliding out, slowly but surely. However, Meryl couldn't avoid what she couldn't see as jagged boards cut into her overalls, sometimes going through enough to scrape her skin.

I'm luck I'm wearing these, or my legs would aleady be cut to ribbons.

Finally, Meryl managed to free her leg from underneath the wreckage of the bed. She sighed with relief, then tried to stand up. To her surprise, her right ankle gave way underneath her, unable to support her weight. Meryl fell heavily to the floor, luckily landing on a smooth patch of the floor. She was able to catch herself with her hands as she touched the floor, but Meryl ended up flat on her face when her arms wobbled and made her lose her balance.

Meryl rolled over onto her back facing the ceiling, her sore body causing her to wince slightly. The fight for survival had taken a lot out of her. She rolled over again, supporting herself with her hands again. Meryl pushed herself to her feet, careful to shift most of her weight onto her left leg. She wobbled a bit, clutching at the dresser, which was amazingly still intact. Meryl straightened and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

At first glance, Meryl had to admit that she looked like a wreck. Her hair was matted with sweat and dust. Her arms, face, hands, and neck were all cut, scraped, and/or smudged with dirt and blood. Plus, her overalls would never be the same again.

Meryl stared morosely at the mirror, a haggard version of herself staring back. Yet, she knew it would do no good to worry about that now. She had to get to town and help Vash however she could.

What can I do, though? My derringers aren't here...

The glint of two .45 Colts caught Meryl's eye. They had been knocked out of her hands by Knives before he had suddenly left. She eyed them nervously, not sure if she should take them or not. Of course, she had already used them, but that was only because it had been a desperate situation.

What am I thinking? This is a desperate situation!

Meryl hobbled over to the twin guns, knelt down slowly, taking care to put more pressure on her left side than her right so as not to aggravate her inflamed ankle further. She picked them up and shoved each one into a different pocket.

Then, as Meryl made her way towards the door, she glanced back once at her now ruined room. It made her slightly sad, but it also strengthened her resolve.

That monster is never going to get the best of me again! she thought fiercely.

Meryl knew that such thinking was more than likely wishful, at best, but she wasn't about to back down now.

I'm sorry, Vash, but if it comes down to it, I will try to kill Knives, no matter how hopeless an effort it might be. I hope you'll be able to forgive me.

Meryl hobbled out the door and down the steps, a hard look in her eyes, both guns at her side. Without a second thought, she marched out the door into the heat of the twin suns, ready to do what she must.

 

 

Knives stared down at the prone form of his brother, noting the feathers coating Vash's right arm. Then, his arctic blue eyes scanned the surrounding area suspiciously, wary of any pending dangers. He glared at the townspeople in disgust, barely able to control his almost instinctive urge to rip their throats open to let their life's blood seep away. However, there were more important matters to attend to than fulfilling his own lust for human extermination, even though it was a worthy venture.

He knelt down next to his brother, his face wrinkled with a frown. Knives narrowed his eyes at Vash, making sure this wasn't some kind of trick. Upon seeing how Vash's eyes wandered restlessly underneath his eyelids, Knives accepted that his brother was indeed ill and needed some kind of treatment.

Knives touched Vash's forehead with the back of his left hand. It was warm to the touch. His brow furrowed further. Then, he gently let one finger rest on Vash's right arm, the feathers ruffling softly beneath his touch.

There was a slight tingling in his hand, and Knives looked down and was surprised to see small feathers sprouting on his own arms as well. The reaction was accelerating so quickly that Knives had to yank his hand away to prevent his blades from emerging and going completely out of control.

Knives moved backwards a bit from his brother, staring intently at his hand as the feathers receded. He turned his gaze back towards Vash, feeling for the first time uncertain. He had never seen something like this before. The Angel Blades had only ever activated for Knives when he caused it. Vash's, however, seemed to have a mind of their own. The whole situation was highly disconcerting.

“What…have…you…done…to me…?”

That was what Vash had said, no, accused before passing out. In most cases, that would have been a warranted question. Knives could freely, and somewhat proudly, admit that. Yet, this time, it made no sense. Knives pursed his lips, deep in thought.

He has accused me of something I have not done. How ironic.

Still, judging by what was happening, Knives could tell Vash was in no position to stop him from wiping out this entire town. On the other hand, his brother was ill, and even though Knives had sent assassins after Vash and tried to kill him, he had only done it because he cared too much to allow his brother to be further corrupted by the human plague.

The sound of a whimper interrupted Knives's thoughts. He gazed down at his brother, who was currenly curled in a fetal position, moaning. Knives almost felt like shaking him for his weakness, but this wasn't the time for that. He bent over, carefully avoiding contact with the feathered arm, and hefted his brother into his arms.

Knives turned to walk away when an annoying nasal voice called, “Hey! That's our bounty! We found him first so go away!”

Knives stopped in mid-stride, his body stiffening in rage that the vermin had dared to even speak to him. He twisted about slowly and stared into the eyes of withered old human who spit as he ranted. Two other humans were also slowly getting to their feet, both with mechanical arms, the smaller of the two giants picking a boomerang out of the sand.

“He's ours!” the one clad in red roared. “We're going to be rich men! Now put him down, and we might let you walk away from this!”

Knives narrowed his eyes, revulted by the mere sight of these pathetic pieces of trash. “Vermin,” he spat. “That's what you are. Your existence polutes the very air with your stench!”

“Hey! Watch who yer calling vermin, buddy!” the boomerang holder growled.

“YEAH!” the old man and the giant shouted, creating an odd mix of whiny and nasal with deep and stupid.

Knives's left arm twitched. “That's what you are. Now, get out of my way.”

“Hah! I'd like to see you try!” the wizened old man shouted.

Knives didn't reply. He set Vash down on the dusty earth and straightened, looking the three human filth directly in the eye. Then, he let the transformation come. His left arm lengthened and morphed, bones, ligaments, and tendons all changing. The change came harder this time because Knives had already used his Angel Blades a great deal today. However, their impudence would not go unpunished.

Knives grinned maniacally at the shocked and fearful looks on the faces of the trio of vermin as his Angels Blades sprouted from his left arm, curved and deadly. They stared at him in horror, mouths open and unable to articulate anything other than meaningless babble.

A cruel sneer twisted Knives's mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without waiting for their reply, Knives darted in among them, his Angel Blades held at ready. The red-clad bounty hunter tried to swing his boomerang at Knives, but it was useless as such close rang. Before he could do anything else, Knives sliced his metal arm clean off, and the limb clattered to the ground.

The bounty hunter fell back into the sand, his mouth agape and quivering with fear. Knives approached him slowly, purposefully, until he was right in front of the man.

“P-please! Mercy!”

Knives grinned. “No.”

A scream.

A slicing noise.

A gurgling sound.

Then, a crimson liquid splashed into the dusty earth and mingled with it, the dust swirling sluggishly within it.

Knives watched with satisfaction as the dead man fell backwards into a pool of his own blood, his neck ripped open by a careless flick of the Angel Blades, now stained red.

Then, he turned about slowly, the same insane grin on his face as he eyed the other two. “Who's next?”

The wizened old man let out a screech of terror. “Gofsef! Get us out of here!”

The giant scooped the old man up and began to run away. Knives watched them calmly, letting them have a small head start. When they were about thirty yarz away and plowing through the crowd of townspeople, who were scattering in every direction, Knives lifted his left arm and aimed, looking down his Angel Blades in a straight line. His target in sight, Knives shot one blade off towards the two cowards, hitting the giant square in the back, piercing his heart.

The giant fell forward and landed on his face, blood pooling underneath his body. Knives's eyes followed the old man, who had managed to escape the falling brute and was crawling away, a cat stalking his prey. Knives walked up to the human, a pitiless look in his cold, ruthless eyes.

The wizened human shrieked when he saw Knives approaching and began to scuttle backwards, desperate to get way. “P-please! D-don't kill me!” he grovelled as Knives got closer. “I'll-I'll do whatever you want! You can have the bounty! I don't care! Please don't kill me! I'll do anything! Just tell me what you want!”

Knives grinned. “I want you to die.”

The old man screamed once before he was silenced forever.

 

 

Meryl ran as quickly as she could through the town, which was considerably slower than how fast she could run under normal circumstances. Her right leg was slowing her down. She glared down at it in frustration. She need to move faster, but it just wasn't possible. Plus, the loss of blood coupled with her uncleaned wounds didn't make her feel any more chipper.

I have to find Vash, she thought, panting slightly from the effort of running.

Suddenly, a huge crowd of people came charging towards her. Meryl skidded to a stop as screaming people rushed by her, oblivious to her presence. Jerking her head around in the direction where they were coming from, Meryl was sure that was where she had heard the loud explosions coming from. Something really terrible had to be taking place there judging by the fleeing people.

Someone smacked into Meryl knocking her flat on her butt. “I'm so sorry!” a woman's voice said as she frantically tried to help Meryl to her feet. “What happened to you?” the woman gasped, obviously noticing Meryl's appearance.

“Um, I had a small accident,” she supplied lamely before asking hurriedly, “What's going on back there?”

“There's some blond guy back there fighting three men who were after Vash the Stampede!” the woman replied nervously, wringing her hands together. “I don't know what's going on now, but that one guy was so strong! He sliced one man's arm right off!”

Meryl paled. Knives...

She didn't want to go. Meryl wanted to turn right back around and go with all those other people. But, she couldn't.

Seeing the look in Meryl's eyes, the woman shook her shoulders. “You musn't go back there! You can't! They'll kill you!”

Meryl calmly lifted the woman's hands off her shoulders, smiling sadly. “It's the job,” she said softly. “It's what I do.”

With that, Meryl raced away, still limping, towards the site of what Meryl now had a sickening feeling would be a slaughter. As she ran, the waves of fleeing people became thinner until finally she was in the center of town. But she wasn't alone.

The first thing Meryl saw was Vash lying on the ground, unconscious. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she was at his side in an instant. His forehead felt hot to the touch, his eyes wandering restlessly beneath his eyelids.

Meryl felt her throat tighten. What's wrong with him?

She nearly had a heart attack when she caught a glimpse of his right arm. Meryl pulled away from him sharply, staring fearfully at the feathers covering his arm. Flashbacks of that day rang within her thoughts. With great difficulty, she forced them back.

Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself, Meryl scooted forward again slowly. She tentatively reached out and touched a feather with her index finger, nervous and yet curious of what the reaction would be. The feathers ruffled a bit, almost as if they enjoyed being touched by her. Meryl yanked her hand back, somewhat disturbed.

A small sound behind her caused Meryl to jump up and completely turn in the opposite direction. Her heart almost stopped in her chest at the sight that greeted her. Knives was standing about thirty yarz away from her, his left arm transformed into that bladed weapon again, its curved edged stained red with what Meryl knew to be blood. He was standing over the body of a corpse, its blood seeping onto the ground surrounding it.

Knives was grinning.

Meryl choked back something akin to a shriek when Knives turned to face her. Upon seeing her, his sickening smile widened further as he began to walk towards her. As he moved aay from the corpse, Meryl recognized the dead man as the father of the Nebraska family.

His head had been shorn clear off his shoulders, and the severed head of Professor Nebraska gave her an empty stare, his expression frozen forever in a scream.

“I see you wormed your way out of your predicament,” Knives grinned.

Meryl moved a bit closer to Vash. Knives's eyes widened as his face twisted into a snarl.

“Don't touch him, you piece of filth!” he seethed, the Angel Blades reacting violently to his rage as they whipped about him.

Meryl stared at him defiantly and drew both Colts at once, pointing them straight at Knives's head. He glared daggers at her.

“You...how dare you point my own creations at me!” Knives hissed venomously through his teeth. “Again!”

Meryl didn't answer, determined to hold her ground. Knives became increasingly more agitated, and Meryl watching his arctic blue eyes shift back and forth between herself and Vash. Each time he did, it seemed to infuriate Knives more.

“I won't stand for this!” he growled, bringing up his bladed arm, ready to cut Meryl down.

“No...Knives...don't...”

Meryl tore her eyes away from Knives, who also shifted his attention, towards the figure lying on the ground. Vash the Stampede's aqua eyes flickered open, and he hacked out a cough.

“Don't...please...”

Meryl realized with some surprise that Vash was speaking not only to Knives, but to her as well. Hesitantly, she lowered the two Colts, still keeping her hands on them, though. Vash smiled weakly at her before looking up expectantly at Knives, whose face was inscrutable.

“Brother...for me...”

Knives didn't answer. Then, several very tense and very silent moments later, the Angel Blades retracted into Knives arm. Meryl let out a breath of relief before turning her attention back towards Vash.

“Very well, brother. I shall allow you to keep your pet...for the moment,” Knives said stiffly, obviously quite disgusted with the arrangement.

Vash's week smile widened slightly. “Thank...you...” he whispered before his eyes glazed over, and he fell unconscious once again.

Meryl and Knives stared at him for a moment before their gazes shifted back to each other, one eyeing the other with fear, and the other with revulsion. Then, Knives bent over then, and picked Vash up easily.

“I can help with him...” Meryl began hesitantly.

“No!” Knives retorted sharply. “You will not. I am letting you live, and that is aggravating enough as it is! Do not provoke me further with your mindless babble!”

The remark stung, but Meryl held her tongue, knowing how precarious the situation was. As she trailed after Knives back to the house, she glanced back at the three bloody corpses. Meryl had to look away, fearing she was going to be sick.

 

 

Ahem, so, what does everyone think?

Knives: I personally enjoyed this chapter.

-sigh- You would.

Knives: Except the part where I spared the tiny female human.

-glares- We've been over this! You don't get to kill her! Period!

Knives: -glares back-

Why don't you stop griping and do something useful for a change?

Knives: Like what, child?

Get the people to review!

Knives: Very well. Readers, if you do not review, I will kill the authoress, and there will be no more chapters.

O.O Um, I guess that's good. Er...you people better review, or I'll die and haunt you forever as a ghost! I mean it! REVIEW!