Nails

Nails

What did I ever do to deserve this?

"Vash!"

I keep tracing the path of events that led up to this over and over again in my mind and I can't make it work. Events blur together and the sequence is incomplete. How did things happen so quickly?

How did it come to this?

"Vash!"

In the background, behind the horror and shame I feel at my present actions, I think I can hear them calling to me. Maybe it's the cold frustration seeping into my heart, or the insanity of the situation itself, or even that cruel person named Irony, but I think they're laughing.

"Oi, Tongari! What happened to that perfect aim?"

I blink and try to clear the whorl of dizzying confusion from my head. I focus on Meryl's heated glare, "Don't you dare think you're getting out of this! You can do better, so don't even pretend that you aren't good enough!"

Wolfwood is chuckling behind me. He doesn't even have the decency to help or . . . not chuckle.

This is so unfair.

Meryl's dark eyes are lit with something akin to sadistic merriment. I can't look away and I'm frozen, breath caught in my throat, as she slowly enunciates, lips curling with pleasure, "You know why you're here."

Those eyes are so dark.

"This is just punishment," there's a hint of a laugh in her voice.

I shiver and try to snap my gaze away from the enthralling ferocity of her expression. Look down at you hands, Vash, just look down at your hands and *concentrate*. You've made it this far.

Although, I'm not sure Milly did. I think she passed out from lack of oxygen a few minutes ago. A quick peek up at Meryl's expression, her gleaming eyes, confirms that I shouldn't event think of trying to find out.

How did this happen?

Meryl answers my unasked question, her voice a low purr briefly broken by - is that a giggle? "Don't look so bewildered. You know what you did to deserve this. You did this."

She waves her free hand at me, brandishing the damage I wrought for all to see. Including Wolfwood. Y'know, I think he's *still* chuckling. Not fair. He smokes. He shouldn't have that good of a lung capacity.

Meryl continues, just a little bitty, tiny, *smidge* of anger creeping into her voice, "You ignored the advice of Wolfwood, Milly, *and* me, charged into that building, which was *not*, I remind you, *not* a bank being robbed, and in the ensuing *chaos* the building and the one next to it were destroyed.

"Do you know what the other building was?"

I gulped down my fear and meet her furious gaze, "It was . . ." I bite my lip, unable to go any farther.

"That's right," she growls. "That building was where Milly and I had planned, *for a week*, to spend today! Re-lax-ing!" She punctuates every syllable with a viscous swipe of her free hand.

I think the sound I make is along the lines of a shrill "eep!". I nod.

And I, Vash the Stampede, the Sixty Billion Double Dollar Man, the Humanoid Typhoon, the first *ever* Human Disaster, dip the brush back into the bottle, wipe off the excess, and apply the second coat to Meryl's fingernails.


Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Ours.