One by One, Gun by Gun

By: Solitary Dragon
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Legato sat, whatever remained of his calm was slowly slipping. Golden eyes shielded from the blaring sunlight jaw muscles convulsed. Perched on a rocky ledge peering down at the nothingness of the dessert. The sun blasted rock warmed his thighs as he shifted slight wondering who exactly was approaching in the distance. None other than the horn freak, contempt and malice transformed his other while docile features. He had watched them, all of them each venture off to do know what he knew was his responsibility and each revealing empty promises of 'the next time'; Knives ragged on him about it.

'Why don't you do what I created you to do! You send you're minions out and all they do is make a mockery of what I want you to do. You shall suffer for their mistakes.'

Beatings and malicious words were always his reward not that he loathed it, actually it was quite the opposite. Craved it, beg for it silently in his mind; Knives supposedly knew about his rather humanist yearnings and often reminded him as such. It didn't matter, he was pass the point of happiness, pleasure in it's purist form for only a naive child would think that things remained perfect and fresh forever, thing grew rotten and rancid very quickly. He was tainted, he knew that much but he delighted in this fact. The pain and desperate need for attention was all he had, a smile rarely ever graced his lips and even if it did it was usually horrifyingly grotesque.

He watched them all fail and he eventually knew that this was what Knives need him to do, to die for him. And he would, he would give full my mind, my body and what was left of his soul to the blond hair god because he was lord and master, Legato loved knives, wanted what he knew he couldn't have and even if the beatings served as a distraction from Knives' inner turmoil and pain Legato was all too glad to oblige.

"I'll be your whipping doll forever I only to be near you, to feel your hand upon me even if it is to wring more pain from my shattered soul. Again knives..." a choked whisper as the lashes thundered down on his exposed back, he dare not sob.

Why did it matter now...Life ended for everything at least he made up his mind to die for his lord, his master Knives.

One by one they had all died but not at the hands of Vash, he would be the first to die...

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R+R PLEASE ...I feel so desperate but please even if it is to criticize my ski-hat...

*/:) Doesn't my hat look pretty? IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY WRITE:"VERY SWAY HAT
WHERE DID YOU GET IT?"