DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Technical Difficulties

Peppy intro music cued as the opening graphic came on. Both music and graphic faded to the four people sitting at the long desk. Cut to Camera Two, showing a tall woman with brown hair and a happy smile.

"It's seven a.m., time to…Wake Up, Gunsmoke! I'm Meryl Stryfe and – wait, that's not right, I'm Milly Thompson." Milly looked through her papers, confused.

Beside her came the sound of a palm slapping a forehead. Cut to Camera One, showing a short woman with raven hair. "There's nothing wrong with the lines, Milly, you just took the wrong cue," the real Meryl Stryfe said.

Back to Camera Two. "Oh. Ok, then. Wake Up, Gunsmoke! She's Meryl Stryfe and –"

Silence.

"Psst!" Milly whispered. "Meryl, your cue!"

Another headsmack sounded. "We've got to get our cues straight, Milly. That was your cue. Look at the card, it says 'I'm Milly Thompson'."

"But that doesn't make any sense at all! Why would you say you're me?"

Camera One, catching Meryl as she sighed and gave up. "Never mind. Let's move on. Good morning, Gunsmoke –"

"It's supposed to be 'Wake Up, Gunsmoke', Meryl, that's the name of the show."

Meryl fought to keep her exasperation from showing. "I know the name of the show, Milly, but you just said it three times, I think people get the idea. Can we at least get past the introductions?"

"Ok, Meryl, but the director said we're supposed to say the name of the show, 'Wake Up, Gunsmoke', because 'Good Morning, Gunsmoke' is copyrighted or something. Doesn't that alphabet station do 'Good Morning, Gunsmoke'?"

Meryl gritted her teeth. "Fine! Wake Up, Gunsmoke! Clearly, you already know me and my co-host Milly. On my left is Spikey Saverem with weather."

Camera Three. The tall man with blond hair that was true to the name "Spikey" seemed a little put out. "You know, I'd rather have done sports. And what kind of name – d'ahh!" He clamped his jaw down to keep from yelling as Camera One came back to a satisfied Meryl turning back from stomping on his foot under the desk.

"I'll introduce myself," came a fourth voice from next to Milly. Cut to Camera Four, showing a dark-haired man in a dark suit without a tie, sporting a cocky grin. "Hello, ladies. Nicholas D. Wolfwood here, and why yes, my eyes are so magnetic I have to wear sunglasses on TV to keep the women in the audience from swooning. But it's too late, viewing women; you can throw all the flowers you want, but I'm already taken by this gorgeous young lady right here. Isn't that right, Precious?" he cooed to Milly.

She looked confused again, head swiveling. "What are you talking about, Mr. Preacher? Who's Precious?"

"We'll get to that later," he said with a smirk. "In the meantime, I'll be covering the news. Oh, this just in – Milly Thompson and I are getting married!"

Meryl leaned across the desk and smacked him on the arm with her papers. "You are not! Quit telling lies on TV, Milly and I have reputations to think of! You're not even good enough for her, you shady, motorcycle-riding, chain-smoking –"

"I didn't know we were getting married!" Milly cried in panic. "Nobody told me! I don't even have a dress to wear!"

"Milly, I just finished saying you are not getting married. He's spreading blatant lies in a fruitless attempt to flirt with you."

"Oh! So we're not getting married?"

"No!"

"Then why did you say we were, Mr. Priest? You know it's wrong to lie."

Wolfwood smirked. "It's the truth, or at least will be. I just never said when we were getting married."

Cut to Camera Three and Spikey Saverem. "In weather, Meryl is about to spit lightning at Nick."

Back to Camera Four. "Hey, Spikey, you stay out of this!"

"He doesn't have to stay out of anything!" Cut to Camera One, catching the last word coming out of Meryl's mouth, only to have her ire directed at the camerman and control room. "What are you doing focusing on me? Get back to Camera Three, Spikey has to finish the weather! We need his face on-screen, he's our bait – our best weatherman," she hurriedly corrected herself.

Camera Three showed Spikey Saverem just start to open his mouth when Wolfwood jumped back in.

"Oh, he has to finish –" Back to Camera Four and Wolfwood snarling " – something all right. But it's not the weather, it's what we started back in May City!"

Meryl had known enlisting Wolfwood for this was a bad idea. The man with dark hair and the man with blond hair were just fine as a team as long as they had another team to fight; without an outside force to unite against, they were too much alike to get along. It never took long for them to become combustible. She was proven right as a chair scraped back and boots sounded on top of the long desk.

Camera Three revealed Spikey Saverem standing on the desk, coat swept back and hand on his gun. "Feeling froggy, go ahead and leap," he directed at Wolfwood. "Nobody's running, nobody's ducking."

More climbing on the desk. Camera Five showed a zoomed-out view, the two men ready to settle the unfinished business of who was better, Meryl and Milly seated behind the desk and in the middle of the coming fight.

It was time to stop this silliness before everything went south on them and these two idiots ruined Meryl's assignment. She slapped both palms on the desk and stood up. "Now listen, you two moronic numbskulls –"

Doors were kicked open and shouts sounded from off-camera on the set. "That's no Spikey Saverem!" came a roar. "That's Vash the Stampede! We've got the bounty now, boys!"

Wolfwood and the man now revealed to be Vash the Stampede smoothly turned, their weapons aimed at the five newcomers, who gave pause in their tracks.

"What you've got is a sprung trap," Meryl declared, drawing two derringers as Milly stood and hefted her own stun gun from its place under the desk. "You five are the Dillon gang, responsible for the robbery of seven banks, four of which were insured by the Bernardelli Insurance Society." Her eyes glinted as she savored the line she had waited a lifetime to say. "Come quietly or there will be…trouble."

"Hell with that!" someone spat. People scattered, shots rang out. Camera Five was shot and went black, other cameras were knocked over, different cameras were switched to but everything was topsy-turvy. The mikes still worked, though, capturing gunfire and people running and Meryl yelling, "After them! We need them alive or there's no bonus!"

One camera on its side captured the show's director wandering onto the gunfire-peppered set and sitting down in a stupor.

"What the hell just happened to my morning show?" he wondered out loud. "What in God's name –"

WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY.