Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Sinner ❯ Steel Shell ( Prologue )

 

Sinner

Prologue - Steel Shell

Stardate 2166 A.D. Project SEEDS Starship, Deep Space

Cold. So very cold.

It was almost the only thing that he felt, as his bare feet slowly walked across the durasteel surface of the deck. He could feel his teeth clattering inside his mouth, as his face muscles spasmed repeatedly.

How was your world, Rem?

The boy nearly flinched, as the not so distant memory flitted through his thoughts. He could see it clearly, with his mind's eye: him, sitting on the lush, verdant grass, under an apple tree, basking in the warm glow of the artificial light generators and her, standing beside him, her features slightly obscured by the tree's shade.

Earth? It . . . it was beautiful. Breathtaking. What you see here, in this artificial environment, is just a small fraction, a pale comparison of what has once been.

The boy passed by an observation port. Stopping from his trance-like walk, he looked out, through the transparent plating, into the cold, dark void of space. Small, pale stars could be seen, standing in contrast with the blackness around them, but they seemed frozen and unmoving as well. The sight only managed to chill the boy further, as he started shivering. Wrapping his hands around himself, he could almost start cursing the nightshirt's gauzy material, which offered him absolutely no protection. Gritting his teeth together, to keep them from clattering, he trudged onward.

That is my dream, young one. To make an Eden.

The child stopped once more, as he reached a pair of massive steel doors, tightly sealed. Raising a small, pale hand, he flicked open the control console, hidden within the wall. Frowning slightly, he started tapping the keys in quick succession, observing idly that his fingers had taken on a bluish tinge.

What's an 'Eden', Rem?

"Pass-code correct. Entry approved. Welcome, SEED no. #26593."

The air-tight doors slowly started opening, with an ominous groan. A blast of refrigerated air blew in the boy's face and he started shivering even harder. Ignoring his body's protests, he moved onward, entering into the gigantic storage hull. He had been here many times, staring in awe at the massive construction. The gigantic, rounded hull spanned three-quarters of the ship's length, from the Engine Bay, to the Main Deck. The circular walls were all lined with thousands of translucent glass tubes, neatly ordered in dozens of rows. His blue-green eyes could discern, even through the semi-obscurity, the silhouettes of men, women and children, all encased in the tubes, preserved in cryogenic sleep. All through the hull, steel walkways connected the different rows of tubes.

In another time, the sight laid out in front of him would have left him speechless, standing still in the entrance. Now, however, he didn't even bother to look up, as his sore, half-frozen feet carried him further, into the steel womb.

Eden means 'paradise'. It means a peaceful, tranquil world, with no wars, no crime, no suffering. A world in which man is free to be man and not devil. A world which we can create.

The boy kept walking forward, ignoring the fact that he could no longer feel his extremities. His eyes blazed in the darkened hull, as they stared straight ahead, intent upon their destination.

It would be wonderful, Rem. Nothing but warm, peaceful days.....

Couching quietly, the boy approached one of the containment capsules. When he once again laid eyes upon the person encased within the steel shell, he let out a shaky breath, which immediately solidified to ice, in the sub-zero temperatures.

The woman's features were as beautiful as ever, her dark brown hair flowing like a burial shroud around her figure and her skin, pale and flawless, glinting in the gloom.

"Rem" the boy whispered, placing both of his hands on the glass. A spasm shot through him, as he felt the coldness of the surface, but he didn't remove his palms, even when he could almost feel his skin cracking. The woman was as silent and unmoving as ever, her eyelids closed shut and her bluish lips drawn together tightly.

For a second, the young one could swear that he had almost seen a tear trickle down her frozen cheek, but quickly dismissed it as a trick of the light.

Are you sad, Rem? Please, don't cry! I'll always be there for you! Because I love you!

His cracked lips twisted into a painful smile/grimace, blood droplets oozing from the cracks, as he remembered the scene in the artificial meadow. He was relieving all of it, feeling her hands in his hair, as she carefully styled it, her breath on the top of his head and seeing the half-surprised, half-amused look in her chocolate eyes, at his impromptu declaration.

"You didn't believe me, did you?" he whispered, his voice jagged and hoarse, as his breath condensed into ice upon the glass surface. "I don't blame you. A child body means a child mind as well, to most people."

His numb fingers started tracing a small pattern on the frosted surface.

"Still, I'm keeping my promises to you. I will stay by your side, no matter what." For a few seconds, he was completely silent, his eyes glinting dully. "The crew thinks that I have lost my mind completely, but my thoughts are clear. They're as sharp as ever, perhaps more so than before."

His forehead gently rested upon the glass and his body tried to tremble once more, at the contact, but he fiercely clamped down upon the instinctual response.

"I . . . I have a second promise that I have to make" he went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "I . . . I promise you . . . that, no matter what happens . . . no matter what the circumstances I are . . . I . . . I will never take life."

The darkened hull was completely silent, for a few moments, as sour tears flowed on the boy's cheeks, freezing on his chin.

"I will never kill again. No matter the cost."



*   *   *


Stardate 129, P.G.F. (post Great Fall), 350 iles South-West of the City of Augusta, Planet Gunsmoke

"Mr. Vash, how long 'till we stop for the night? I'm hungry."

Looking at the tall girl through the rear-view mirror, his eyes hidden behind his yellow-tinted sunglasses, the outlaw shrugged his shoulders, in carefully practiced nonchalance.

"Dunno. A few hours, perhaps"

From her backseat, Millie sighed, resting a hand against her grumbling stomach, as she watched the desert landscape speed by.

From her seat in the front, Meryl's gray eyes watched the surroundings as well, but her mind was preoccupied with other thoughts. The carefree act had fooled Millie, as always, but she could see through it. Of course, not as clearly as she would have wished, but, still, it was an improvement.

Her gaze left the desert and turned to the man standing besides her. His countenance was relaxed, but underneath it, lay a hotbed of accumulated tension. His gloved fingers held the steering wheel lightly, but she could still see the permanent indents, where his thumbs had nearly crushed the piece of equipment, when no one had been looking.

Meryl nearly winced, as she remembered the same black-gloved hand, striking her hard across the face, nearly cracking her lip. The impact had been so strong, that it had caused her to fly several meters backwards and then slam into the dusty ground, as the breath was torn from her lungs.

Her fingers rose to touch her cheek. In over three weeks, the dark bruise and the scratches on the inside of her mouth had healed completely. She traced one finger across her cheekbone, feeling it gather sweat and grime.

The Insurance Agent's eyes quickly turned to Vash once more, to see if the spiky-haired man was aware of her actions. If he was, he hid it remarkably well, as his blue-green eyes kept staring straight ahead, at the winding dust road.

Meryl's small hand fell limply into her lap, as she adjusted her position into the uncomfortable chair. The twin suns blazed hard from above, making the entire world seem like a scorching oven. Sweat drops flowed across her forehead, occasionally falling into her eyes, making her grimace, at the stinging sensation. Her tongue felt as if it had been coated in lead, her lungs burned with each intake of breath and her body screamed at her, for just a few drops of water.

For a few moments, the young woman contemplated the act of asking the gunman to stop at a watering hole (or even at a derelict well), but the prospect of raising her hopes, only to have them shattered, when they would stumble upon a long-dried water source, made her reconsider.

"Here. You look like you could use it."

Meryl nearly jumped backwards, as she saw a gloved hand, holding an old, leather canteen in front of her. Her dry lips opened, but her voice had chosen that very moment to desert her, as her sore throat contracted.

"Drink up, you'll get your voice back in no time" Vash went on, a knowing glint in his eye, as he gently placed the canteen into Meryl's lap.

The woman's sweaty hands carefully lifted the recipient and opened the lid. Throwing her head, back, she drank greedily, the water almost feeling like poison, as it burned its way down her dry throat.

"Although, I have enjoyed these rare moments of peace, without so much as a single nag from you."

Meryl's eyes narrowed slightly, as she kept drinking. Vash's countenance was almost the same, except for the small quirking of the corners of his lips.

"Enjoyed?" the young woman huffed, as she placed the now empty canteen on the floor. "I should certainly hope so, Broom-Head! You still have a lot of explaining to give, about the most recent 'incident'!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Vash answered, his voice changing from teasing to whining, in just a few seconds. "I didn't know that those bounty-hunters were stupid enough to try and blow up a well!"

"Because of you, idiot!" Meryl retorted, her eyes flashing, in annoyance and exasperation. "Out of all the places to hide, you had to choose a well!"

"I couldn't seek shelter in someone's home!" the outlaw explained, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. "Innocent people could have been hurt!"

"People were hurt. Or did you think that the well just disintegrated into tiny bits? No, it rained with stones across half the town! Eleven people were hospitalized, with serious head injuries, twenty-seven others had bruises and concussions and the total property damage totals at about 600.000 double-dollars! Would you like me to read you the damage report in detail?"

Just as her fingers were reaching into her bag, for the papers, a small whisper stopped her.

"No. I already know what it says."

Meryl stopped in the middle of her angry tirade, to look questioningly, at the blonde gunman. His usual, neatly-styled hair was now almost a complete mess, ruffled by the wind, his mouth was drawn into a tight, grim line and his eyes (or, rather, what she could see, behind the sunglasses) were glinting with something akin to unshed tears.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"You never want that. But, somehow, everything seems to go to hell, whenever you're involved!"

No sooner had the harsh words left Meryl's lips, that the small woman immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, kicking herself mentally, for the horrible choice of words. Even now, after three months, the panicked voices of the villagers were still ringing in her ears.

Diablo.

The Devil in the Red Coat.

That man has the eyes of the Devil! Stay away from him, I tell you!

I don't need your thanks, Stampede. I just want you out of my town, as fast as possible!

My husband . . . my husband was . . . murdered. He was murdered!

Calm down, woman! What are you saying?

My husband . . . he was decapitated!

Listen, Miss Stryfe. You keep saying that the man in red is innocent. I can't verify that. He was the last person to ever see the victim alive, with his head still on his shoulders. And, now I hear that he's that Humanoid Typhoon that everyone keeps talking about! No, I just can't release him. If he were to disappear into the night, who would be left to take the heat? You? I don't think so.

Meryl felt her damp hair falling over her eyes, but she didn't dare move to sweep it away. Her hands were still in front of her lips, the fingers twisting painfully against one another. Silently, she gazed to her left, out of the corner of her eye, trying to discern what the man was feeling.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that" the woman whispered, amazed at the smooth way in which the words flowed. A few months ago, she couldn't even wish him good luck, without getting angry or flustered.

"You don't need to be" came the answer, spoken on a quiet, serious tone. "You're right on the money, as always."

Meryl wanted to contradict him, to say that he was wrong; to call him an air-headed lunatic even, but none of these words could leave her mouth. Wiping the perspiration off her forehead, the woman leaned further into the hard chair, ignoring the protests of her back muscles as she did so. As silence again descended upon the three traveling companions, her eyes started to wonder once more. All around, only open desert, scorched, rocky and flat, could be seen. Far ahead, she thought that she could see the gleaming white walls of a city, but the image was quickly shattered, proving to be just an illusion, created by the intense heat. Turning her eyes to the back seats, Meryl carefully studied Millie, who seemed to have dozed off, her head propped up on the left door and her hands folded underneath her, as a pillow. The senior Agent was completely sure that Millie had overheard most of her discussion with Vash, but in her typical unobtrusive manner, had chosen to keep out.

Turning her gray eyes back to the road ahead, Meryl couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering to the driver, once more. Whatever she did, no matter how hard she thought and puzzled, she still could not fully understand the walking enigma that was Vash the Stampede. In every new circumstance, he showed an almost completely new face, catching everyone off guard - even herself, although Meryl was loath to admit it. One moment he could be the grinning, donut-scarfing village idiot, with a multi-colored tie wrapped haphazardly across his head, only to turn, in the span of a few seconds, into a completely serious, focused gunman, who always fired his shots with grim accuracy, but never shot to kill.

And in other moments he could be like this: quiet, introverted, pulling himself away from everything and keeping his distance from everyone around him.

Hidden inside a steel shell.

Meryl sighed, licking her dry, cracked lips and feeling the metallic taste of blood. For the past three months, since she had met him first, on the outskirts of Felnarl town, everything had been a seemingly unending line of mysteries, unanswered questions and closed doors. The duality of the gunman's nature continued to intrigue her, to this very day. Who was he? What was he? Which side of his character was real and what masks that he wore were nothing but carefully built fakes?

Try as she might, the Insurance Agent could find few answers to these questions. Only in the past few weeks, had she started seeing more of her enigmatic traveling companion and assignment. As the pressure slowly rose, so did the cracks in his steel shell grow in number. It had been through those cracks, that she had first seen a brief glimpse of him, unguarded and unhidden.

Without her consent, images flooded her mind, reminding her of the stormy night, nearly three weeks ago. She could feel the soft cushion of the hotel chair, as she adjusted her position. The small room was obscured, as the only source of light was a small flash-rod, perched on the nightstand.

Across from her, with the small coffee table placed between them, stood Vash, resting lazily on the green velvet couch. A white towel was draped across his shoulders, his wet hair fell in his face and his skin still dripped water on the floor, from the recent shower. In his right hand, he held an opened beer can. Swinging his head back, he took another swing from the metal can, as several drops of water fell on the wooden table.

Meryl's hands rested in her lap, neatly folded over each other, her small shoulders squared. To any other person, the woman's posture would have spoken of determination and authority, but she knew very well that it was only a mask, under which she hid her uncertainty.

Apparently, the man standing across from her had seen her uncertainty as well.

Drink that coffee, before it gets cold, Insurance girl.

Meryl flinched slightly, at the unexpected sound of his voice. Her small hands shot out, grasping tightly onto the white, porcelain cup, bringing it close to her lips. Indeed, the coffee had cooled, losing almost all of its flavor. Meryl grimaced, at the sour taste, only to flinch once more, as a jolt of pain passed through her, from the wounded side of her face.

The action was not missed by the man, whose blue-green eyes seemed to blaze harder in the gloom.

Let me see.

A scarred hand rose slowly, as two calloused fingers moved to touch her cheek. Purely out of instinct, Meryl leaned backwards, making the old chair creak ominously. The hand fell, as a myriad of emotions flashed across the gunman's features.

Pain.

Shame.

Anger.

Self-loat hing.

The room was as silent as ever, as neither of the two dared to break the ice. Meryl's gaze was focused onto the cup of coffee, in which she saw her own startled features, reflected back at her, almost mockingly.

I'm sorry. I . . . didn't mean to hurt you.

The apology was spoken on such a small tone, that Meryl could barely hear it. Raising her eyes, she looked at Vash, whose head was bowed, causing the blonde bangs to fall haphazardly across his face, hiding his expression from her.

When so many innocents were killed by Monev, I . . . I completely lost control.

Meryl tried to smile, but the feeble twisting of her lips could not be considered such. The cold cup rested in her hands, as she tightened her grip on the handle, desperately searching for something appropriate to say.

Don't apologize.

Her words had caused the outlaw's head to quickly snap up, as his wet hair splashed more droplets across the room. The befuddled expression on his face would have been considered hilarious, if the situation was of a less serious nature.

It's human to make mistakes, after all.

Meryl didn't know where the inspiration for her words had come from, as her tired mind kept running in circles around itself. Across from her, Vash made a sound, halfway between a snort and a bitter laugh.

Yeah . . . human . . .

The Insurance Agent was surprised by the sudden undertone of bitterness lining the other's voice. Where had the sweet, mild-mannered, happy-go-lucky man disappeared? And who was the careworn, tired person sitting across from her, old and bitter, his eyes burning with hate towards his own self? The questions had arisen once more and she could not quiet them. As much as she hated the awkwardness of the present situation, she had to get at least some answers out of him, before he started behaving like a circus clown again.

Vash . . .

The gunman only nodded his head, to show her that he was paying attention.

I don't understand. You never mean anyone harm, but all of these disasters seem to occur around you. Also, the citizens look at you with mistrust, even when you want to help them, treating you as a criminal. Doesn't . . . doesn't that bother you?

Meryl idly realized that she had already started to babble, but she didn't care anymore. Dozens upon dozens of questions were floating to the surface and she couldn't stop herself from asking them. Vash opened his mouth, to answer, only to be cut off by Meryl, who had not finished her tirade:

You once said that you would prefer a quiet, peaceful existence. What stops you from fulfilling it? Why don't you lay down your gun for good, if you don't wish to kill and hurt? Why don't you go to live quietly, as you wish?

I can't!

The sharp, vehement answer, spoken on a harsh, determined tone made Meryl freeze in mid-sentence, as she warily regarded Vash. His strange eyes seemed to burn with even more intensity than before, reminding her, for one horrible moment, of his rage-filled expression, only a few days prior, as he had witnessed half the town being slaughtered.

I can't stop now, he went on, with same determined tone. Not until everything is over. I made several promises, a long time ago and I have to fulfill them, no matter the cost!

Vash raised himself from the couch, as the old, rusty springs squeaked loudly. Swiftly, he crossed the small room, only to stop in front of the single window. The first moon shone from the dark sky above, coating everything with a pale, cold light.

I still haven't come to terms with my past, Vash went on, his voice more subdued. Until I do so, I must continue my journey. If I go to live in peace now, I'd be lower than a pig.

Meryl was silent, her mind working hard to understand this sudden admission. Instead of answering her questions, Vash's words had only managed to raise even more queries.

You should go and have some rest, Vash interrupted her frantic thoughts. We are to leave tomorrow, before the dawn.

So early? Meryl nearly jumped from her chair, in surprise. Why?

I do not want to subject these people to my presence any longer. No after what happened.

The small woman nodded her head, in understanding. Placing the cup on the table, she slowly raised herself from the chair and walked towards the door, in complete silence. Before she left the room, she turned around one last time, to see the tall frame of Vash the Stampede, standing by the window, his hands clasped tightly at his back, as the pale moonlight accentuated the deep gashes, scars and cuts which marred his upper body.

And then the door closed behind her, with a dull thud.

Meryl's eyes snapped open, as a blast of hot wind blew directly in her face. Squinting her eyes, to protect them against the heat and sand, she shook her head, to wake up from the reverie.

"We should be at Jeonora Rock by tomorrow morning, at this rate."

Meryl nodded in Vash's direction, as she rested her head on her left hand.

"Good to hear."

As the rented all-terrain jeep sped across the desert, Meryl Stryfe stretched in her seat, as her mind still refused to rest, mulling over the memory. Indeed, that night, she had seen through his steel shell. As pain and shock had caused him to momentarily drop his protection shield, she had gotten a brief glimpse of the man that lay hidden behind the different masks, The sad, pained man, who was driven ahead solely by a promise that he had made in the past and who continued to love and treasure life, no matter the cost.

Her musings were cut short, as several muffled noises could be heard and the car started to gradually slow down.

"Vash, what are you doing?" the woman asked, annoyed that the gunman would choose such a moment for one of his foolish antics.

"I'm not doing anything" he defended himself, as his eyes scanned over the readings. "This thing is . . ."

His voice died down the very second that the car came to a sudden halt, raising a cloud of dust and sand.

"Uhuh, not good . . ."

"What?" Meryl frowned, as she saw the sheepish expression on the other's features. "Don't tell me . . ."

"We left the last town in such a hurry that . . . I forgot to fill the tank with gasoline" the outlaw quickly answered, practically tripping over his own words.

"You . . . forgot the fuel?" Meryl asked, on an eerily sweet voice, as a vein in her temple started pulsing.

"Yeah" Vash answered, his guilty grin getting even wider, as he idly scratched the back of his head. "Silly of me, isn't it?"

"You . . . you idiot!" she yelled, as her right fist impacted hard with the back of the gunman's head. "I'll show you silly, you incompetent fool!"

Vash tried to duck from the angry woman's fists, by moving backwards, but he only succeeded in accidentally opening the car door and unceremoniously tumbling in the dirt.

"Now, now Insurance girl, calm down" Vash said, raising his hands in surrender, as he put on his goofiest smile. "I'm sure someone will find us, sooner or later."

His words only seemed to anger Meryl further, as she proceeded to kick him, ignoring his repeated yelps of pain.

"Ow! Ow! Mercy! Mercy!"

Millie, for her part, had been roused out of her slumber by the shouting and general commotion. Cracking open one light blue eye, she smiled slightly at the sight laid out before her. Muttering something along the lines of "oh, these two are at it again", she turned on the other side, stretching on the wide couch and drifting back to sleep.

Above the desert, the twin suns continued to blaze down, unconcerned by the affairs of mortals, turning the world into a fiery inferno.