How To Speak Legato
Disclaimer: Haven't you all figured out yet that no one on this site owns Trigun? I doubt Yasuhiro Nightow sits around all day writing fan fiction, he's too busy finishing the Trigun manga and getting rich, which I am not. So please, don't sue me.
A/N: This fic is in response to MillieFan (or AnonymusTrigunOtaku)'s "Trigun Alternate Pairing" contest on myotaku.com. I don't know if I'm even going to enter this fic yet, it just gave me the idea. If you want details on the contest, go to http://www.myotaku.com/users/milliefan/
Enjoy! ***********- indicates scene change
WARNING, SPOILERS FROM EPISODE 12 ONTO THE END! IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN SOME OF THESE EPISODES AND DON'T WANT IT SPOILED, I SUGGEST YOU LEAVE!
I, Legato Bluesummers, was officially irritated.
Of course, I didn't let on; I was as calm and composed as always. But just as I was looking forward to a quiet night in for once in my life, Master comes barging in, ordering me to drop everything and go to May City to cause Vash the Stampede eternal pain and suffering. Naturally I'd be a bit miffed.
I spotted the bar where the outlaw was supposed to be tonight, and sighed rather dramatically. I go through the mental checklist one more time: kill all his friends, leave severed limbs in his bed, make him spill red wine on the coat Master says he loves so much… wait a minute. If the coat was red to begin with, what good would that do? I hadn't even started the torture yet and I had hit a snag in Master's plans. Oh well, I'd just have to improvise. I approached the bar window, ready to catch his first glimpse of the object of Master's animosity.
What I saw wasn't quite what I expected.
A drunk was getting beaten up. Sure, I've seen a lot of drunks get beaten up in my lifetime, but that was always a tedious fistfight. This one was being held in a headlock by a small, angry looking young woman, and looked like he might be screaming if he could breathe. I watched, fascinated, as the man turned darker and darker shades of blue, and I walked closer to the door to get a better look.
"Ma'am, he's turning purple!" shrieked a tall and rather clueless looking woman, looking anxiously at the man. At this, I started to chuckle, gradually beginning to actually laugh.
"Good Lord," I said out loud to a passerby, "I haven't had this much fun since I tore the legs off my first spider." The man grabbed his two children and broke into a run. I clapped my hands together, laughing harder, but to my dismay, the angry woman kind of snarled and let the drunk go, kicking him in the side and striding over to the door, slamming it open.
"Excuse me," I said smoothly. She turned to face me, her face growing increasingly redder. I wondered with excitement if she was going to burst a vein.
"What the hell do you want?" she said between gritted teeth.
"I just wanted to congratulate you; you handled that situation magnificently. What was the man's offense, if you don't mind me asking?"
The woman looked confused, obviously trying to remember what the drunk had done. "W…well… who the hell are you, anyway?"
I drew myself up to my full height, took a deep breath, and gave my most enigmatic smile. "Legato. Legato Bluesummers." Kittens and puppies ran for cover, children screamed, people locked their doors, and somewhere far away, a fan girl was born. I opened my eye, expecting to see the short woman frozen with awe, amazement, and fear.
She laughed at me. No, not just laughed. Mocked. "Le…Legato?" she choked between laughs. "Your parents named you after a musical tempo? You must have had one screwed up home life! Did you have siblings named Allegro, Stattaco, and Andante?"
Well, it was better than the 'Doesn't that mean 'cat' in Spanish' response.
"What's your name then? I asked, slightly irritated. The woman became all business then, drawing herself up to her full height (which wasn't very tall), and cleared her throat.
"I am Meryl Stryfe of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, and I'm here with my associate Milly Thompson…" I didn't listen to much after that, I simply stared at her, nodding every now and then. Suddenly, she stopped and stared back.
"What?" I asked.
"Did you… just… lick your hand?" she asked disbelievingly. I froze in horror. I didn't even notice. Damn my unconscious habits!
"Nooooooo," I drawled. Just as I was saying that, however, I licked it again.
"UGH, you just did it again!" she exclaimed with a shudder. She started to back away ever so slowly.
"Ma'am?" the clueless looking woman stuck her head out of the bar. "Who's your friend?" Meryl looked intensely relieved, running over to the woman.
"It was very nice to meet you, sir. Bye." She grabbed the woman by the arm and broke into a run.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. I blew it, all because of that stupid arm. I stared at it with loathing.
"This is all your fault," I hissed. "Vash the Stampede."
Master stopped talking and glared. "Did you just interrupt me, Legato? Did you actually just interrupt me? I can't believe it, you just interrupted…"
"I said nothing, Master." I mumbled apologetically. Master smiled.
"Good. So anyway, like I was saying, that whore Rem was like, 'You cannot choose who lives and who dies, Knives,' and then I was like, 'Shut up, bitch!' Isn't that hilarious?"
"Yes Master," I said admiringly, even though I know that's far from what happened.
"And then, what happened, Legato?" asks Master excitedly. I closed my eyes, mortified. I hate it when Master made me do this.
"She went 'Boom'." I said, cringing.
"That right!" screamed Master, throwing his head back and laughing hysterically. I halfheartedly chuckled along. Since it was safe to say that Master would go on like this for a few more minutes, I let my mind wander back to May City. That woman Meryl, she had such intensity, such passion, such a thorough understanding on the word "pain." She was the only person who didn't confuse my name with 'El gato.'
"LEGATO!" Master had abruptly stopped laughing and screamed my name. I stood up straight.
"Yes, Master?" I said dutifully.
"I want you to go recruit a group of assassins today. The best ones you can find. You shall call them, The Gung-Ho-Guns!" I flinched, but he didn't notice. "Make him suffer, MAKE VASH THE STAMPEDE SUFFER!" He collapsed back into his laughing fit.
"I understand, Master." I said, raising my voice so I could be heard above Master's howls. He ignored me. "He will suffer, Master!" I said a little louder and more irritated. I was still ignored as Master fell off his chair, rolling on the floor. "Screw it," I mumbled, walking for the door.
Not really feeling like going out today, I simply made a flyer.
"Are you a deranged freak, outcast from society because of your homicidal ways? Have you always wanted to kill a famous outlaw? Are you incredibly suicidal? Then join the Gung-Ho-Guns!"
I stopped. Gung-Ho-Guns, what kind of idiotic name was that? Something only Master could cook up. Maybe being trapped in here alone with no one but me for company was starting to get to him.
"Join now, and we'll do horrific things to your body, give you a tacky nickname and a creative weapon! Just look at what we did to Monev the Gale!" I pasted on a picture on the hormonally challenged behemoth that we'd recruited 20 years ago. I sadly copied the flyers, and went out to paste them around the desert. Maybe I'd see Meryl, and she'd remember me. Then maybe she'd attack me for sexual harassment and hold me in that headlock. I smiled. Oh, the possibilities.
*grins nervously*, What do you all think so far? I've got ideas for what I want to do next, but I won't continue unless you all think I should. And I don't know whether I should enter the contest or not, let's see if it goes anywhere first. Review, please, it makes me happy! Feel free to flame, but if you do, leave your e-mail so I can send you a nice thank-you virus.
-Helena
Disclaimer: Haven't you all figured out yet that no one on this site owns Trigun? I doubt Yasuhiro Nightow sits around all day writing fan fiction, he's too busy finishing the Trigun manga and getting rich, which I am not. So please, don't sue me.
A/N: This fic is in response to MillieFan (or AnonymusTrigunOtaku)'s "Trigun Alternate Pairing" contest on myotaku.com. I don't know if I'm even going to enter this fic yet, it just gave me the idea. If you want details on the contest, go to http://www.myotaku.com/users/milliefan/
Enjoy! ***********- indicates scene change
WARNING, SPOILERS FROM EPISODE 12 ONTO THE END! IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN SOME OF THESE EPISODES AND DON'T WANT IT SPOILED, I SUGGEST YOU LEAVE!
I, Legato Bluesummers, was officially irritated.
Of course, I didn't let on; I was as calm and composed as always. But just as I was looking forward to a quiet night in for once in my life, Master comes barging in, ordering me to drop everything and go to May City to cause Vash the Stampede eternal pain and suffering. Naturally I'd be a bit miffed.
I spotted the bar where the outlaw was supposed to be tonight, and sighed rather dramatically. I go through the mental checklist one more time: kill all his friends, leave severed limbs in his bed, make him spill red wine on the coat Master says he loves so much… wait a minute. If the coat was red to begin with, what good would that do? I hadn't even started the torture yet and I had hit a snag in Master's plans. Oh well, I'd just have to improvise. I approached the bar window, ready to catch his first glimpse of the object of Master's animosity.
What I saw wasn't quite what I expected.
A drunk was getting beaten up. Sure, I've seen a lot of drunks get beaten up in my lifetime, but that was always a tedious fistfight. This one was being held in a headlock by a small, angry looking young woman, and looked like he might be screaming if he could breathe. I watched, fascinated, as the man turned darker and darker shades of blue, and I walked closer to the door to get a better look.
"Ma'am, he's turning purple!" shrieked a tall and rather clueless looking woman, looking anxiously at the man. At this, I started to chuckle, gradually beginning to actually laugh.
"Good Lord," I said out loud to a passerby, "I haven't had this much fun since I tore the legs off my first spider." The man grabbed his two children and broke into a run. I clapped my hands together, laughing harder, but to my dismay, the angry woman kind of snarled and let the drunk go, kicking him in the side and striding over to the door, slamming it open.
"Excuse me," I said smoothly. She turned to face me, her face growing increasingly redder. I wondered with excitement if she was going to burst a vein.
"What the hell do you want?" she said between gritted teeth.
"I just wanted to congratulate you; you handled that situation magnificently. What was the man's offense, if you don't mind me asking?"
The woman looked confused, obviously trying to remember what the drunk had done. "W…well… who the hell are you, anyway?"
I drew myself up to my full height, took a deep breath, and gave my most enigmatic smile. "Legato. Legato Bluesummers." Kittens and puppies ran for cover, children screamed, people locked their doors, and somewhere far away, a fan girl was born. I opened my eye, expecting to see the short woman frozen with awe, amazement, and fear.
She laughed at me. No, not just laughed. Mocked. "Le…Legato?" she choked between laughs. "Your parents named you after a musical tempo? You must have had one screwed up home life! Did you have siblings named Allegro, Stattaco, and Andante?"
Well, it was better than the 'Doesn't that mean 'cat' in Spanish' response.
"What's your name then? I asked, slightly irritated. The woman became all business then, drawing herself up to her full height (which wasn't very tall), and cleared her throat.
"I am Meryl Stryfe of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, and I'm here with my associate Milly Thompson…" I didn't listen to much after that, I simply stared at her, nodding every now and then. Suddenly, she stopped and stared back.
"What?" I asked.
"Did you… just… lick your hand?" she asked disbelievingly. I froze in horror. I didn't even notice. Damn my unconscious habits!
"Nooooooo," I drawled. Just as I was saying that, however, I licked it again.
"UGH, you just did it again!" she exclaimed with a shudder. She started to back away ever so slowly.
"Ma'am?" the clueless looking woman stuck her head out of the bar. "Who's your friend?" Meryl looked intensely relieved, running over to the woman.
"It was very nice to meet you, sir. Bye." She grabbed the woman by the arm and broke into a run.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. I blew it, all because of that stupid arm. I stared at it with loathing.
"This is all your fault," I hissed. "Vash the Stampede."
Master stopped talking and glared. "Did you just interrupt me, Legato? Did you actually just interrupt me? I can't believe it, you just interrupted…"
"I said nothing, Master." I mumbled apologetically. Master smiled.
"Good. So anyway, like I was saying, that whore Rem was like, 'You cannot choose who lives and who dies, Knives,' and then I was like, 'Shut up, bitch!' Isn't that hilarious?"
"Yes Master," I said admiringly, even though I know that's far from what happened.
"And then, what happened, Legato?" asks Master excitedly. I closed my eyes, mortified. I hate it when Master made me do this.
"She went 'Boom'." I said, cringing.
"That right!" screamed Master, throwing his head back and laughing hysterically. I halfheartedly chuckled along. Since it was safe to say that Master would go on like this for a few more minutes, I let my mind wander back to May City. That woman Meryl, she had such intensity, such passion, such a thorough understanding on the word "pain." She was the only person who didn't confuse my name with 'El gato.'
"LEGATO!" Master had abruptly stopped laughing and screamed my name. I stood up straight.
"Yes, Master?" I said dutifully.
"I want you to go recruit a group of assassins today. The best ones you can find. You shall call them, The Gung-Ho-Guns!" I flinched, but he didn't notice. "Make him suffer, MAKE VASH THE STAMPEDE SUFFER!" He collapsed back into his laughing fit.
"I understand, Master." I said, raising my voice so I could be heard above Master's howls. He ignored me. "He will suffer, Master!" I said a little louder and more irritated. I was still ignored as Master fell off his chair, rolling on the floor. "Screw it," I mumbled, walking for the door.
Not really feeling like going out today, I simply made a flyer.
"Are you a deranged freak, outcast from society because of your homicidal ways? Have you always wanted to kill a famous outlaw? Are you incredibly suicidal? Then join the Gung-Ho-Guns!"
I stopped. Gung-Ho-Guns, what kind of idiotic name was that? Something only Master could cook up. Maybe being trapped in here alone with no one but me for company was starting to get to him.
"Join now, and we'll do horrific things to your body, give you a tacky nickname and a creative weapon! Just look at what we did to Monev the Gale!" I pasted on a picture on the hormonally challenged behemoth that we'd recruited 20 years ago. I sadly copied the flyers, and went out to paste them around the desert. Maybe I'd see Meryl, and she'd remember me. Then maybe she'd attack me for sexual harassment and hold me in that headlock. I smiled. Oh, the possibilities.
*grins nervously*, What do you all think so far? I've got ideas for what I want to do next, but I won't continue unless you all think I should. And I don't know whether I should enter the contest or not, let's see if it goes anywhere first. Review, please, it makes me happy! Feel free to flame, but if you do, leave your e-mail so I can send you a nice thank-you virus.
-Helena