Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Purgatory ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

God what a day, Milly thought, as she let the office door bang shut behind her. Incompetence was rampant at her company. It seemed like for as long as she could remember she had worked for men without vision, without leadership, and without logic. The only thing she wanted to do was relax in a bubble bath with a good book, maybe do a little yoga. But even as she thought these things, a tiny part of her mind told her she would probably spend the night on email fielding the same stupid questions from her superiors that she had already answered in the meeting that afternoon. With a sigh, she adjusted the shoulder strap of her computer bag and crossed the street, wondering why every day was exactly the same.

She hated the walk to the car each night. During the day, it was no problem, but at night the shadows turned sinister and the same bums who smiled at her in recognition during the day glared at her in drunken belligerence in the evening as she passed their outstretched hands.

Almost as if she had jinxed herself by thinking about it, she suddenly noticed three slouching silhouettes at the corner. As she approached, she saw they were young boys, looked mean, and their eyes looked her up and down and took in the rather too-obvious laptop case she carried. She sped her pace slightly, pulling out her cell phone with her thumb poised over the “9” just in case.

God, what a day, Nicholas D. Wolfwood thought to himself, as he took a deep drag on his cigarette and leaned against a dark lamppost. He had woken up that morning disoriented and in pain. The last thing he remembered was Tonim Town, and he had been running through the streets, chasing his corrupt mentor and Gung Ho Gun namesake, Chapel the Evergreen.

It seemed to Wolfwood that he had won that particular battle, but for some reason part of his memory was blank. His body ached in twenty different places, and he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was disturbed that he couldn’t remember how he got to this bizarre place.

Inhaling the welcome and familiar smoke, his thoughts drifted. He had woken up in the gutter. Well, hadn’t been the first time that happened, he admitted. And at first he thought he was still dreaming. Or drunk. This place was unlike anywhere he had ever been. There were trees, for one thing. Trees everywhere. And more people than he had ever seen in his life.

It hadn’t taken long to realize he was very, very far from Tonim Town. Needle Noggin was nowhere to be found, or the Insurance Girls. An ache completely separate from the physical pain in his body hit him suddenly as he thought about Milly. He hoped she was OK, of course the small girl was taking care of her as usual, he was sure of it. And if Needle Noggin was around, they were better than OK.

He felt on the edge of a revelation all day long as he had wandered the strange streets, learning more about this weird city, but it eluded him. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember how he got there.

The cloudy sky had become night before he realized it, and, lost in his thoughts, he had finally succumbed to the situation--he was hopelessly lost, without much money, without many cigarettes (infinitely more annoying, in Wolfwood’s opinion), and without any obvious way of improving his situation. The lamppost felt good against his aching back. For the first time he could remember, the Punisher was a real burden, weighing heavily on his shoulders and making his frame tremble unpleasantly.

He ground the cigarette stub beneath his foot and noticed off to his left some thugs watching a young woman walking down the deserted street. Immediately alert and correctly sizing up the situation, Wolfwood instinctively moved silently in the darkness towards them.

Sure enough, as she altered her step to go around them, they began following her, and one said, “Hey girl, we need some dough, can you help us out?“

“Sorry,” she muttered, and then they surrounded her. Just as she was about to panic and let 911 know about her predicament, a tall figure appeared behind the thug directly in front of her.

“These guys bothering you, miss?” a low voice asked calmly. The smell of cigarettes entered the air as Wolfwood casually lit a smoke in the blackness.

The gang turned to face her good Samaritan, and he stepped out of the shadows to confront them.

Before the youths could retort, the figure asked her again, “They bothering you?”

“I just want to get to my car,” Milly said hesitantly. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful for his intervention or not. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation, that in this day and age would probably result in both of them shot or worse.

The man looked hard at each of the three would-be assailants in turn and said, “I’m going to escort this lady to her car. If you choose to follow, I can’t be responsible for what happens to you.”

Something menacing and true sounded in his tone, and without a word the kids melted away into the night.

Genuinely surprised by the success of his threat, Milly regarded her hero more closely.

He was tall, about 6’3”, and had shaggy black hair. He wore a dark suit (probably black as well, but it was difficult to tell in the night) and a white shirt with a wide collar. It had a 70s look to it, kind of mod, Milly thought, and it was unbuttoned to show a broad expanse of chest that was muscled like a bodybuilder’s. Ah, she thought, that must be why that threat worked. He looks like he could kick their butts easily. At least as long as guns weren’t involved.

She looked up into his face, which was angular and thin and in need of a shave, but nonetheless undeniably handsome. His scruffiness had an appeal to it and as her eyes met his, she was more than a little embarrassed to realize he had been patiently waiting for her to finish her appraisal. He took another drag on his cigarette as she looked away from his amused expression and said, “Thank you,” quietly.

“My pleasure,” he responded. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Um,” she was confused for a moment, still blushing and feeling a delayed wave of relief at surviving the tense situation. She felt weak, and it was an alien feeling to her.

“To your car? Those kids left but we probably shouldn’t hang around here or we might have to introduce ourselves to more of them.“

“Oh yes, yes. I…I mean, if you hadn’t been around….” her voice trailed off. Shaking off the thought of the potential fates she had narrowly avoided, she resumed walking.

“One sec,” her savior called, as he strode over to a streetlamp and grabbed a large cross that had been leaning against it, then quickly reappeared at her side.

More confused than ever, Milly started walking and the tall man kept pace with her easily, despite the large crucifix he was toting. She looked at it out of the corner of her eye. Must be some kind of artwork, she thought at first. Or maybe he’s some lunatic who thinks the world is coming to an end and this is his prop. Just her luck, having the knight in shining armor be a reject from the funny farm. Well, maybe not. Maybe he had a reason for it, whatever it was. She desperately tried to think of a way to ask him, and finally decided it would be rude.

Wolfwood had completed his evaluation of the young woman a bit more discreetly than she had assessed him, but he was no less aware of her as he followed her along the sidewalk. She was about 5’9”, with medium-length hair that he could only think of as golden--not quite blonde, not quite brown. It was as shaggy as his own, falling in layers over her face as she walked. It was hard to tell much more about her looks underneath her baggy clothing, but her face had seemed kind and tired. He decided she probably was pretty when she wasn’t being harassed by strange men in the middle of the night.

As they walked, the sound of their footsteps hit the pavement in a comfortable rhythm, and Milly found herself feeling more relaxed, and of course, secure, than she had in ages in this part of town. Nutjob or not, this guy had rescued her in a sense, and he seemed nice enough. He was tough, it was evident in his gait, his stature, and his voice. That could also mean he was dangerous. She decided she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. And she instinctively liked him.

“Why are you in this area so late?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“I work pretty long hours,” she answered. “Usually 12 hour days. I don’t really have a choice, but I do hate walking to my car at night in the neighborhood. I truly appreciate your help.” Then she thought of a way to find out more about him.

“Do you work here? I’m lucky you were out so late as well,” she said.

He halted mid-stride and for a minute she thought she had either offended him or he was about to become a new threat. But he stuck out his hand and said, “Nicholas D. Wolfwood, sorry I didn’t introduce myself before.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, letting out her held breath and taking his hand. His grip was not gentle. His fingers surrounded hers firmly and his touch was dry and cool. There was a tensile strength she sensed almost coiled or simmering under his skin, and she silently laughed at herself as she realized she was tingling from his touch as she withdrew from the handshake.

Wolfwood had felt the tingle as well, but dismissed it as the result of the first human touch he had experienced since he woke up that morning. He stood looking at her with a question in his face, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, god, sorry, I’m totally forgetting my manners,” she stammered. “I’m Camilla. My friends call me Milly.”

A shadow crossed his face and for a moment he looked terribly sad, but the expression was gone almost before she could confirm it was there.

“Nice to meet you as well, Milly.” he said softly, and started walking again. Unbelievable, he thought. This was some coincidence. The name confirmed an intangible similarity he had recognized but not named earlier. She did remind him of his Milly in some way. Disturbed, he began to deliberately halt his earlier mental attempts to figure out where he was and what he was doing there. All of a sudden, he was afraid of the answer.

Feeling more confident, she asked, “So what’s with the cross?”

“It’s a tool of the trade,” Wolfwood answered.

“Are you an artist or street performer?” she asked, not sure what he meant.

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m a priest.”

She was stunned for a moment and she tried to ignore the small ball of disappointment she felt in her stomach. Come on, she thought, you knew there had to be something wrong with him.

“Oh, you’re a priest,” she echoed stupidly.

“Yes.” he said simply. Sensing the need to elaborate, he said, “I don’t really have a church anymore, but I used to run an orphanage. That‘s why I hate seeing kids like those back there,” he tossed his head behind him, “they seem so lost.”

Surprised by his empathy for the gang members, she asked “What are you doing here?” before she could help herself.

He was silent for a few moments before he answered. “I’m not sure…” he replied, “I really don’t know how I wound up here today.”

Milly didn’t quite know how to respond to that, and she slowed her pace as they approached her little green car, looking lonely in the empty parking lot.

“This must be you,” Wolfwood said cheerily, his tone an attempt to put her at ease. He had been so lost in his reverie he hadn’t considered her stress and uneasiness at being with another stranger in the middle of the night. He had given himself the responsibility to make her forget her bad experience, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Father Wolfwood--” she began.

“Oh no, no,” he smiled, “it can be Nicholas or Nick or Wolfwood if you prefer.”

Milly smiled back. “OK, which do you prefer?”

He seemed to seriously mull it over, looking directly into her eyes. Too dark to see if she has the same color eyes, he thought to himself. “You know, tell me which you prefer and then I’ll tell you which I prefer.”

Was this unlikely priest flirting with her? She was bemused and encouraged by his easy response and so she asked, “What’s the “D” for?”

He smiled, “Definitelynevergonnaquitsmoking” he said in one breath.

She grinned. “Well, that won’t work. How about Nicholas then? That’s what I prefer.”

His eyes lit up and the corners wrinkled slightly. She noticed under the security lights that they were a deep dark blue. “That’s perfect,” he said, “no one calls me Nicholas.” He had been afraid for just a moment that she would call him “Mr. Priest.” If she had, he would have lost it. He was elated without explanation, and felt better than he had all day.

“Then I should call you Nick?” she asked, unsure if he was joking or not.

“No, that’s the point,” he laughed. “Everyone calls me Nick or Wolfwood. I want you to call me Nicholas.”

“Well, Nicholas,” Milly said, thinking quickly and deciding she didn’t care if she was being stupid, “do you need a ride somewhere? That cross looks horribly heavy and I do owe you one.”

“Well, Milly,” he said, imitating her light tone, but cringing a little inside as he said her name, “I would like to take you up on that. Where are you headed?”

“Springfield,” she said automatically. Her paranoia immediately chastised her for revealing the location of her home.

“That’s where I’m heading too,” he said. “Why don’t you just drop me off somewhere convenient there then?”

“Sure thing,” she replied, opening the door and watching him load his mammoth crucifix into her backseat.