Chapter 1: Awakening
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, Twin Peaks, or the Cthulhu Mythos of H.P. Lovecraft. I'm just a weirdo with a lot of knowledge about ultra-obscure shit.
October 29 – 6:58 AM
Vash's POV
Very slowly I open my eyes. I roll over, rub the sleep from my eyes, and sigh. Little by little the night turns around, and the suns send twin orange beams into my bedroom. Can't believe I woke up so early.
Especially after last night.
I feel the form beside me stir, moaning slightly. Smiling, I gently wrap my good arm around my sleeping wife. For a long time I just lay there, listening to her sleep. God, I'm lucky to have someone like Meryl. It's strange, but every time I'm with her, I feel like I'm actually safe. I love that feeling, almost as much as I love her. It's like floating inside a soft, warm cloud where nothing else matters, where the universe doesn't exist, where it's just me and her.
She mumbles softly and rolls over, moving onto her back. There's the faint hint of a smile touching her lips; guess she's having a good dream. Something about that smile makes an idea pops into my head (well, two, actually, but I don't count the perverted ones anymore). Ever so slowly, I lean over and softly bring my lips to hers. I can feel her awaken under my touch, moaning slightly into my throat as she sleepily kisses me back. She pulls back, yawns, and curls up against me.
"Mornin'."
"Mornin', Mer."
"Y'know, I love it when you wake me up like that."
"I know. That's why I do it."
She smiles and absently rubs her hand over my face.
Heh. Had my beard for a year and she still hasn't gotten used to it.
We've been living for almost eight months now in the town of Diciem as Randy and Sarah Carter (in case you couldn't tell, she though my name was appropriate). She works at the local cafe, and makes the best damn cherry pie anywhere. Me, I got a job at the bank as a security guard. Good thing there haven't been all that many robbery attempts, or the bank'd be smoking ruin. Luckily, the attempts so far have mostly been amateurish at best – mostly drunks out on a wild night – so I've been able to talk 'em down. Yesterday, the manager recognized my work with a promotion to head guard – get this – the same day Meryl got promoted to head cook. So, in celebration, Meryl and me bought a bottle of champagne, lit candles, put on some music, and made love all night.
She stops rubbing and just rests her hand on my cheek, and for a long time we just lay there and bask in each other's warmth. Eventually, though, she stirs and gets up. I gently squeeze her wrist and give her the Sad Puppy Face, causing her to roll her eyes and chuckle. "You are such a pervert, y'know?"
I just grin.
"I know you don't care how you look at the bank, but bedsores do NOT look good on a chef." I pout like a kid denied his favorite toy or something. "Fine, Meryl. Have it your way." I get up, and in .038 seconds, she's in my arms and my lips are pressed against her throat. "Vash!" she shouts in that voice that's half-amused and half annoyed.
"Aw, c'mon. It's Sunday!"
"You know I have to run a couple errands over in Cola today!"
"They can wait."
"No, they can't!"
"Pretty please?"
"Vash, the store closes at 2!"
"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"
"Vash!"
Damn. She ain't backin' down. I pout again. "Oh, all right."
She smiles in victory, then kisses me. I'm no expert in nonverbal communication, but I know what that kiss means: "Now after 2, on the other hand…"
7:45 AM
"I don't care what anyone says; you make the best eggs ever."
"Aw shucks, Meryl."
"No, seriously. You should work at the Red Star."
"Oh, I'd just cause a grease fire and burn the place down."
"That is probably true."
"You know it is."
She just smiles and sigh.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just love ya."
I smile back. I love having quiet mornings together. Especially if there's the chance for a quickie. And judging by the way her foot's a-movin' up my leg-
KER-ASH!
"WHAT THE HELL?!" we scream in unison as something huge and scarlet pours through the hole it smashed through the floor.
Oh dear God, it's a isandworm!
Wait a minute; sandworms live on the other side of the planet, what the fuck is one doing here?!
The thing rears back its head and lets out an earth-shattering roar as six blood-red tentacles burst out of its skin and I realize this thing is not a worm.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Meryl frozen in the same position as me, staring at the thing in stupefied horror.
And now silence.
The worm-thing isn't attacking.
It's just staring at me, it's eyes glowing some kind of blue. It's a weirdly familiar color, and I know I've seen it before, quite a lot, and for some reason I feel like I should hate it but how can I hate such a wonderful color it's so pure and cleansing and I'm not afraid of the worm-thing anymore after all how can something with such beautiful eyes be anything other than a tool of God
I hear my name and I turn to where it came from some woman with dark hair is standing there looking concerned but do I know her no I don't and even if I did why would I want to be with her now that I've seen perfection hey compared to this radiant beauty standing before me she's nothing better than a bug an insect a spider yes that's just what she is a spider a small disgusting spider that deserves nothing better than dea-
EEEEEEYYYYYYYYYAAAAAARRRRRRGHH!
Wha…
What…
Who…
…Meryl?
"What the hell just happened?!"
Then I see her empty coffee cup.
Then I feel burning hot liquid on my face.
Then I dive out of the way as the worm-thing lunges towards me.
Meryl runs into the living room, and I follow suit. She yanks the door to the broom closet open and casts a glance at me, and even though I see it only for a second, I understand the expression her face: Why the fuck are you just STANDING there?! Help me, goddamit!
I rush past her into the closet, grab the false wall, rip it away, and pull out our guns. Very quickly I check – they're loaded – then I throw her hers and cock mine just as the worm smashes through the wall.
We take aim and let loose with everything we've got (which isn't very much). The bullets hit dead-on, one putting out its left eye as it screams in rage and fury and pain. Its tentacles lash out at us and over our heads just as we duck. Meryl aims up and fires again, blowing three of its appendages clean off. The thing bellows again and retracts the wounded stumps back into its body, but three new ones burst out. Dammit!
We can't win this way.
We run into the next room and I slam the door shut.
"Oh, like that's gonna help, you idiot!"
"I know, but it'll make me feel better!"
"Vash, we can't kill this thing! We don't have enough bullets!"
"Don't you think I know that?"
"At this point, any ideas would be welcome, Meryl!"
We look around frantically the room (which was originally supposed to be a bedroom but we just kinda use it for storage) for something we can use when I remember-
SMASH!
GRRRRAAAARRRRGH!
SHIT!
Meryl fires again and the thing's other eye goes out like a candle-flame. That should hold it for a minute or two. No time to think! Where did I put it?! Is it – no…not there either…n –
There it is!
C'mon, baby, please work please work please work please work please-
YES!
I lunge towards the thing and introduce it to my friend. Six tentacles are instantly down and it screams and backs out of the room. I chase after it and hit it again and again and its limbs fall off faster than it can regenerate them until it finally reaches the hole in the kitchen floor. It slides back in at lightning speed and disappears, its screams echoing down the shaft.
I stand there on the edge of the pit, chest heaving, trying desperately to catch my breath. Shutting off my weapon, I sit down (well, fall down, actually), and hear Meryl walk in. I look up at her, and she down at me until finally she breaks the silence.
"Vash, when in the hell did you get a chainsaw?!"
Pause.
Cue laugh track.
We're both on the floor and hysterical giggles are blasting out of our throats like freight trains.
I don't know why we're laughing so hard.
Maybe because I bought the chainsaw yesterday as an impulse buy.
Maybe because Bernardelli is never going to believe us.
Or maybe it's due to the fact that we have just cheated an almost certainly gruesome death.
But finally the mirthquake subsides and we lay there catching our breath.
"Am I interrupting something?"
We whip around, weapons at the ready, and see a tall, black-clad incredibly pale man standing in the doorway.
"I mean you no harm, Mr. Stampede."
Oh, my fucking God he knows who I am.
"I'm sorry, sir," Meryl stammers, "but I think you have the wrong guy. He's Randy Carter and I'm –"
"Don't give me that, Ms. Stryfe. I know who you both are and judging by the state of things I can see that you are in far deeper than you can possibly imagine."