Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ Collateral ( Chapter 25 )

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

 

A/N: Well, happy people, I bring you another chapter! Lotsa action. Oh yesh. Some blood. Some gore. A few other things, too. Muwaha…

Oh, and I started a forum. Visit it if you want. O.o

Anyways, on to the chapter! I hope you enjoy!

 

 

Collateral

 

Vash walked slowly, haltingly, even with Meryl's support. Every now and then, he would glance down at her to check on how she was doing. She was huffing a little, but the sound was so insignificant that Vash would not have noticed it if he had not been looking for it. He flinched a little when he saw how much feathery mass was draped over her. It was awkward, but there really was no other way around it at this point.

Glancing down at himself, Vash sighed. His baggy shirt was loose about his lanky frame, but it had been torn on the right side so his right “arm” could fit through there. At least his pants had escaped such ravages.

Shut up, he scolded himself. Knowing you and your rotten luck, you'll have feathers and wings sprouting out of your FEET just because you said that.

“I take it back,” he muttered under his breath. Just please not that.”

“Huh?”

Vash looked at Meryl, a puzzled look on his face. “Oh, ah ha ha ha! Nothing!” he laughed nervously.

Meryl grunted a little. “You know, it would help if you tried to support yourself, too.”

“Oh, sorry!” Vash said hurriedly, putting as much weight on his own legs as he dared.

I'm out of shape or something. Or maybe it's just because this…affliction takes so much out of me…

Vash lowered his eyes to the floor, watching his feet as they moved, one in front of the other. It struck him just how much his physical condition had deteriorated. He could stand, but falling was highly probable if he had no one to help hold him up. And, his useless right arm felt like a dead weight, dragging him down.

Maybe I'd be better off if I just cut the whole limb off and got another artificial one, he thought wryly.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to be thinking about how terrible he looked. Now was not the time to be thinking about his right arm. Now was not the time to be thinking about anything other than how in the hell he was going to stop Knives.

It did not help at all that Brilliant Dynamites Neon had gotten entangled in this mess. Under normal circumstances, Vash could tell that Neon was able to hold his own in a battle. However, these were far from “normal circumstances.” They were downright “abnormal.” The way things stood, Brilliant Dynamites Neon did not have a prayer when it came to facing Knives. The only reason Vash had defeated him before was because Wolfwood's Cross Punisher had been within reach, and he was the same breed as Knives.

No matter what, things were not going to end well. Nothing ever did, it seemed. Still, Vash frowned, determination etched on every line of his face. Even though he was ill and could walk only with someone else's aid (not to mention his feather weight), he was going to stop Knives. He had no other choice. If he did not, more would die, and more lives would weigh heavily upon his soul.

Vash maneuvered his free hand around his side, his fingers tracing the handle of his silver Colt. He had lost the machine gun implanted in his prosthetic arm during his last battle with Knives, but he could still fire the handgun with it. It had been necessary to learn how to shoot with either hand before the machine gun had come along, those years when Vash had only had one gun to rely on. Now, though, it was a good thing he could shoot well with either hand. However, that did not solve Vash's main problem.

I can shoot, but I am virtually immobile as things stand. Besides, bullets aren't all that hard to dodge or block when it comes to our special “traits.” I've done it for years. But…

Right then, an explosion rocked the building once again, the second one since this entire mess had started. Meryl gasped, the shaking ground causing her to slip. Taking Vash with her as he lost his already tenuous balance and fell over sideways landing on something…soft?

“Ugh…” a muffled, female voice groaned from beneath him. “Can you please get off of me, Vash?”

“Guh, sorry!” Vash muttered sheepishly, pulling himself off of Meryl as she tried to disentangle herself from the mass of feathers and wings.

Vash straightened himself as much as possible and forced himself into a sitting position. He looked at Meryl, who seemed a bit miffed, but otherwise all right. In any case, there were more important things to worry about now.

What just happened?

A rustling moment beside him drew his attention as Meryl stood, wincing slightly as she did so. She audibly sucked in her breath.

“What is it?” Vash asked, a twinge of worry creeping into his voice.

“I'm fine. Fine,” Meryl said, her tone a bit strained.

“No, tell me, are you alright?”

Meryl shook her head. “I told you, Vash, I'm fine! I just…that fall wasn't good for…uh…me,” she finished hesitantly.

Vash's eyes widened in understanding. Her wounds…they may have opened again since they're not fully healed yet. Ugh! Why'd I have to go and fall on her? he reprimanded himself. I'm such an idiot!

Obviously, Meryl must have seen the look on his face since she said, “Vash, don't worry about it. I'm fine. Really!”

Vash looked at her skeptically. “Really?”

She glowered at him. “Yes, you broomhead!”

Ah, ok, then. She is fine, he thought. “Ok!” he exclaimed, holding his hand up in surrender.

Meryl cleared her throat. “Anyway, we better get going.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right,” Vash said, his gaze drifting for a moment when he spotted something odd. “Hey, what's this?”

Leaning forward, Vash closed his fingers around two objects. He barely registered Meryl's intake of breath next to him as he fingered the two in his palm.

I've seen these. But where? Where?

His eyes widened. “These are-!”

Vash did not get to finish his sentence as Meryl swiped them out if his hand. He looked at her as if for the first time, his eyes wide and staring.

“Meryl, where did you get those,” he asked with as much calm as he could muster, “and how long have you had them?”

“A few weeks,” she whispered.

“And you didn't tell me?” Vash demanded. “Those things are dangerous! Who gave them to you?”

“How could I tell you, Vash, with your darling brother watching my every move, never leaving me alone with you? When did I have the chance?” Meryl asked, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

Vash felt like he had been slapped in the face. “You're right. I'm sorry,” he said meekly. “But still, I want to know where you got them.”

Meryl shook her head. “It's much too long of a story to tell now. And we're short on time.”

At that moment, the distant scream of gunfire began to echo around them, coming from somewhere ahead of them. They looked at each other, alarmed.

“You're right. This isn't the time to talk about it,” Vash agreed hurriedly. “But,” he stipulated, “I want you to give them to me.”

“But-!”

Vash held up his hand again, silencing her. “Listen to me, if Knives finds you with those, it'll be much worse for you. I can keep them safe. So, please, give them to me.”

Meryl bit her lip and hesitated. Then, she slipped them into his outstretched hand. Vash pocketed them.

Vash gazed at her solemnly. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Come on. I'll help you up.”

As Meryl grasped him and began to heft him to his feet, Vash helped as much as he could, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

I hope we're not too late…

Then, each supporting the other, Vash and Meryl continued to make their way towards the battlefield.

 

 

Voices. That was the first thing Knives noticed when he opened his eyes. Hard, jagged edges surrounded him, and there was no light. Gritting his teeth, he pushed hard against the rubble surrounding him. Finally, he managed to break through, light pouring through the opening. Knives burst through, his eyes stinging. Reaching upward, he felt his temple. It was slick and wet. Lifting his hand away, he saw that it was stained red with his own blood.

Damned human! he growled as he looked down at himself, noticing the cuts, the bruises, and how disheveled he was in general. He actually managed to do some damage!

The voices were getting louder and more comprehensible.

“Did you-?”

“Who the hell is-?”

“-the boss-”

“-the hell is going-?”

Knives glared as more and more oddly garbed humans came swarming around him, muttering and mumbling inane comments to each other. He narrowed his eyes, disgusted that so many had come to this place, his fortress. Yet, here they were, invading that which was not theirs.

Did that human bring a whole army with him? he grated, incensed. No matter. I'll kill them all.

“Hey, you. Who the hell are ya?” a gruff voice asked from behind those ridiculous masks.

“Get away from him!”

Knives turned. Another human was standing by the entrance to the ship, apparently the same one he had seen during his fight with the one who called himself Brilliant Dynamites Neon. “Beremy,” that was what he had been called.

The human jerked his head around. “What the-”

“HE ATTACKED THE BOSS! GET AWAY!”

Knives lips twisted into a demonic grin. “Too late,” he said smoothly, the sound of a gunshot echoing as a bullet ripped through the man's skull, taking part of his head with it as brain matter and blood splattered the sand.

For several moments, absolute silence hung over them all. Apparently, the mass of humans had been stuck dumb by such a display of casual disregard for the life of one their own. Knives calmly flipped his gun open, inserted six more bullets, and snapped it shut.

Click!

Knives sighted and fired round after round in rapid succession, blasting six men right off of their feet, a bullet lodged firmly in each brain before reloading again. The sudden movement seemed to awaken the rest of them. Knives watched with malignant humor as they began to mill around like the vermin they were.

“BAD LADS! ATTACK!” Beremy shouted above all of the confusion, at which the Bad Lads converged together en masse, roaring at the top of their lungs.

Obviously some primitive technique that is supposed to intimidate me, Knives thought disdainfully.

Right then, every single one of them drew a machine gun and released the safeties on them. Knives tensed, ready for the inevitable barrage, his fingers curled tightly around his gun. With a collective bellow, the men charged at Knives and opened fire, bullets whizzing and ricocheting everywhere.

Knives twisted away as multiple rounds tore through the surrounding area, diving behind a particularly large chunk of rubble left over from the most recent explosion. Swiftly returning fire, Knives watching as the humans dropped like flies. Whenever one got close enough, Knives struck his neck with his Colt, snapping it loudly.

The Bad Lads themselves were completely disorganized, firing at him randomly, often missing widely and hitting their own vehicles. Explosions kicked up mounds of sand, showering the combatants with the rough, hot grains.

Covering his head with his arms, Knives winced slightly, catching his breath. Glancing downward, he saw a crimson stain spreading slowly across his left side, the rain of sand still stinging his skin.

Damn, one of those ricochets must have clipped my side, Knives ground out. And I lack something to wrap it with temporarily. I had better end this quickly.

When the hailing sand began to subside, Knives peered over his hunk of debris, scanning the surrounding area. Most of his would-be assailants were scrubbing sand out of their eyes, searching wildly for any signs of him.

Knives slid out from behind the rubble, staying low as he maneuvered through the wreckage. Once he was sure he was well concealed, Knives fired, killing his target instantly. The Bad Lads cried out in shock, spinning around in different directions, seeking him, yet not finding him. He grinned, enjoying watching the humans run about aimlessly, crying out in fear. It was most gratifying.

Click!

Knives looked down at his gun. He reached for more ammunition, only to find that nothing was left. Knives had already used all of his bullets, and there were still too many humans for him to take on without a weapon. Plus, the Angel Blades were currently a less than pleasant idea, considering what Vash was experiencing at the moment.

Of course, Knives thought, grinning lopsidedly. There is always the Angel Arm Cannon.

He moved swiftly, positioning himself on a high rise overlooking the remaining pests. From this angle, it would be possible to wipe out every single last human in one final blast. Brutal, yet efficient.

Knives grinned crookedly. It's time to rid myself of your inferior presences, once and for all!

He raised his black Colt, the gun gleaming wickedly in the blood red light from the Fifth Moon. Knives aimed, prepared to fire, and…

…nothing.

Knives stared down at the gun, his brow furrowed. The Colt would not fire, nor would it transform. Something was wrong. It should have functioned perfectly. What was…?

No. The cylinders, Knives realized. They must have been removed! But by whom?

“THERE HE IS!”

Knives jerked his head up as the Bad Lads began shouting and pointing at him, pointing their machine guns at him once more. Gun smoke drifted lazily through the air and empty rounds littered the ground while bullets tore their way through the air towards Knives, the sounds of gunshots resonating all around them.

Diving for cover once again, Knives hissed through his teeth in pain as a shot finally found its mark in his right arm. Clutching it with his left, he tightened his grip, blood seeping through his fingers. Somehow, he managed to hold the gun limply in his hand.

Shit! I miscalculated my chances against this horde, Knives fumed. Not only that, but I was unaware that my most effective weapon had been taken from me! When I find the one responsible, their end will not come quickly enough!

The Bad Lads, seeing that he was injured, swarmed forward, no longer firing. Knives's lip curled in disgust. Apparently, these ignorant fools believed they could take him alive and bring him to their leader. Knives would rather die fighting before he submitted to a human! Grasping the Colt in his left hand now, his right arm hanging uselessly at his side, Knives prepared for the onslaught.

The first one idiotic enough to get close to him met his end as Knives slammed the butt of his gun against the man's skull with a sickening crack as he slumped to the ground. Others came, and Knives dropped them just as easily. However, Knives was losing steam, and he knew it, as the blood loss began to take its toll on him. Finally, one Bad Lad managed to tackle him, dragging Knives down to his knees. Others followed suit, shouting in triumph as they did so.

No… I will NOT…be defeated…like…this!

Blood spurted, splattering the ground. Shocked Bad Lads literally jumped off of him and backed away, eyeing the scene with fear. Knives stood slowly, the body of a dead man dangling from his bladed left arm, which had pierced the human's chest. He yanked the Angel Blades out, tossing the man aside like a rag doll, his cold gaze sweeping over the remaining victims, his eyes glowing an arctic blue.

“He ain't human!” one Bad Lad cried, nearly tripping over himself as he tried to get away.

Knives cut him off, his blades whipping forward, slicing the human's head clean off. As cries of alarm rose and volume and pitch amongst the men, Knives withdrew his feathery blade from the corpse and stared disinterestedly at the blood dripping off of its edges. Looking up, his lips curved upward into an insane grin.

He darted forward, ripping through the suits, flesh, muscle tissue, and bone, crimson spraying everywhere. One man tried to get him from behind until his face was torn apart. Others ran, but they never got far enough away to be out of range. Knives killed whoever got close enough, but there were always more.

“BASTARD!”

Knives turned just in time to see the one called Brilliant Dynamites Neon come on the scene, limping slightly but with a determined look on his face. In a split second, he hunched forward, hands pressing hard against hidden triggers as bullets screamed from the huge dynamos on his shoulders. Raising his Angel Blades to block, Knives go feel the impact but no pain.

When the assault ceased, Knives stared at his opponent, a bored look on his face. Then, he reformed his Blades as guns, and instead of turning them back on the shooter, Knives fired them at his men.

“DAMN YOU!”

A large stone suddenly slammed into Knives's gut, causing him to topple over with a sharp intake of breath, his Angel Blades disappearing into his arm once more as his concentration broke. Knives rolled to his knees, clutching his abdomen as his mind snapped back to reality. He looked up, seeing Neon striding towards him, leaning heavily on his right leg.

Knives glared, forcing himself to his feet. I will not be humbled, and especially not by a human! he seethed, preparing to use the Angel Blades again, ignoring the consequences.

A spasm shot through him, and Knives fell to his knees again, panting. Another caused him to double over. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his knees. Again it happened, this time shooting straight up his arm. His left arm.

What…is this? he hissed.

Right then, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a broken piece of glass. His eyes widened when he saw. One small streak of black was visible starting at his hairline and moving back a few inches on the left of his face.

No…

“Well, well, well,” Neon said, walking straight up to him. “It's been fun, you bastard, but it looks like our time together has been cut short.”

Knives's face twisted into a snarl, humiliated yet unable to do anything about it as Neon drew his own gun and pointed it straight at Knives's forehead. He released the safety with a “click.”

 

 

Brilliant Dynamites Neon stared down at the man who had brought so much destruction to not only himself but to his Bad Lads. At least half of them had been killed, and more were wounded. If his damn leg had not given out back there, Neon could have prevented such a disaster!

His finger tightened against the trigger, his entire frame radiating outrage at what had been done, at the amount of collateral damage. He narrowed his eyes, wanting more than anything to silence this man once and for all, regardless of his principles regarding those who sparkled. Screw that. This guy did not sparkle.

He ain't human, BDN told himself. No way in hell could any normal person do what this monster did today. I oughta blow his brains out right now.

“What's the matter, human?” Knives rasped, the disgust in his voice almost palpable. “Don't you want to kill me?”

“DON'T!”

Neon turned slightly, his gun arm unwavering as he looked to see whom the newcomers were. The sight that greeted him nearly made him drop his gun, but he held it steady. Vash the Stampede was walking towards them, slumped against a short woman with black, shoulder-length hair, Derringer Meryl, if BDN's memory served him right.

What the hell has he done to himself?

The man standing before him was clearly not the same person he had first met roughly two years ago. The Stampede's hair had gotten long and was no longer spiked, plus it seemed to have black streaks in it. Even stranger was what had previously been Vash's right arm, now a mass of…wings and feathers?

“Please, don't shoot him! Don't do it!” Vash cried again, pleading.

“Vash the Stampede,” Neon said, his finger still on the trigger. “I always figured we'd meet again. Too bad it turned out like this.”

“Don't! I'm begging you! Don't shoot Knives!”

“Ever the sentimental fool!” Knives sneered.

BDN whirled on Vash. “And why shouldn't I shoot this bastard, huh?” he growled. “You see that? See all those corpses? My men! Flunkies to the last one, but damn it, they were my responsibility! Say it to me again!” Neon snarled. “Tell me why I shouldn't blow his ass back to hell where he came from!”

Vash bowed his head. Neon looked from him to the woman, who looked sickened by the carnage. And there was something else BDN did not recognize on her face, a mesh of emotions so complex that they seemed to battle their way across her face and behind her eyes.

“He's…he's my brother…”

Neon cocked an eyebrow. “Somehow, I ain't surprised. You two resemble each other. In more ways than one.”

Vash looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean by that?”

“You ain't human. And don't try to deny it, either. I'm not a fool,” he warned.

“Deny it? Why would I?” Knives retorted. “I am a superior breed.”

Neon backhanded him across the face. Cutting of Vash's protest, BDN towered over Knives and said, “Shut. UP. I don't want to hear your superior bullshit, ya twisted bastard!”

Knives glared but did not reply.

“In fact,” Neon announced nonchalantly, “I could shoot each and every one of ya dead right here and now. I did say I'd take that life of yours,” he finished, pointing his gun at Vash.

Vash stared down the barrel of the gun, his face paling slightly, but he maintained his calm. Meryl bit her lip as worry darted across her features. Brilliant Dynamites Neon watched them both for a moment, and then nodded.

Neon holstered his gun in one smooth motion. He smiled at the look of confusion on Vash's face. “I could kill you, but that wouldn't be very sporting, now, would it?”

Vash laughed nervously. “No, I guess not.”

Neon sighed. “I think ya better explain all of this to me from the beginning.” Looking around, he added, “Inside, if ya don't mind.”

“Uh, sure,” Vash said hesitantly, glancing at his brother.

“Oh, and don't worry about laughing boy here,” Neon said, nudging Knives with his foot, none too gently. “I'll bring `im.”

“Damn you…” Knives hissed.

“That ain't nice, especially after I spared ya,” BDN lectured, tossing the wounded villain over his shoulder, who promptly cursed at him, much to BDN's amusement. “Lead the way,” he told Vash.

“Er…right,” he replied, turning (with Meryl's help) towards the ship.

This is going to be some crazy shit. I can see that. But, I want to know just who in the hell these two are, and why one sparkles so much more than the other.

Following the two into the ship, Brilliant Dynamites Neon prepared for the worst.

 

 

And you people thought I'd never smack Knives down in the fic, didn't ya?

Knives: I hate you.

I love you.

Knives: . . .

Come on. Show me some love, Knives! Don't you appreciate me? I post every week, after all!

Knives: I hate you.

-scowls- Well, if you really feel that way… -sics Kuroneko-zilla on Knives- GET HIM!

Knives: SHIT!

Hnnn, now that's better. Anyway, REVIEWS please!