Nonexistent Egg

Summary: "Meryl?" Vash called to her, his back towards her as aqua eyes gazed at the horizon, tainted by the setting glow of many suns. "Where's Knives?" His voice cam, honest, stable, questionable. She looked to him, brows furrowed in concern. The repetitive question. "Vash. Who's Knives?". Warning- Mental illness, self mutilation, drugs, murder.

Author-
I know I'm currently working on "The Wit's Way Out" (FMA), and maybe another FF that I've forgotten about and probably will never touch again for my own chill pill (sorry). But I really had the urge to write this, since last night, or early this morning, lol. No I have not slept. It feels like it's 5pm, but it's only noon.
Usually I pulled an all nighter with school, so the hours would fly. But now… Ugh DX.
Well, obviously, the summary is… Confusing. But, if you get the title, and the summary even a liiiitttleee, then you might catch on, or already understand the situation.
Although I'm shaking with anticipation and joy to write this, I'm full of grief because my summer has been nothing but hell, enough to the point that an adventure in the Sand Planet with Vash and the 90/100% chance of dying, seems thrilling and desirable.
Along with the fact that I have 3 other stories waiting in my writers books to be published. Oh the joy when I get to write them… But I'm never good with typing from a book… I get bored, and loose any will to continue… I should get a laptop, because my ideas usually run at night, or early morning (12am-4am), and I'm not allowed on the computer, because my fast typing makes annoying 'clikity clack' sounds that wake my mum and her husband…..

Here's the story, haha -_-;

----------------

Additional notes about this chapter: I had trouble with the perspective (character wise), because when I came up with this story, the only lines in my head that started me off, is in the summary *large sweat drop*. So maybe, for my own salvation, there will be no main character perspective… maybe… I hope… GAH.

The air is cool. A nice wind blows throughout the towns empty roads.
This is a desert planet, holds nothing but sand, and unbearable heat. But somehow, we've gotten used to it.

Well, me being born here gives me the advantage. I was one of those lower class people who didn't matter enough to stay on the ships. So they dumped us off here over 100 years ago, because some scientist in the long run declared that this place would be a new beginning for us in case Earth decided to rot.

No one really knows why this happened, why some people were thrown here, and others were given the advantage to live up there, in space. Because, as expected, this planet is poor. No matter how far you travel, no matter how many places you land on, even if you happened to walk all over this ball of sand, you won't find a town with a school, or, well, at least one that educates rather then reads a few books our people managed to keep safe and whole. So I guess we can pretty much read. And estimate prices because everyone here is about profit.

But we, of the Gung Ho Guns gang, understand everything.

These people were told nothing but lies. That this is a temporary home. That one day we will be picked up and whisked away in those ships full of assholes, and live a life we deserve after all this suffering.

Every ten years the people are told this, as if they forgot about the last promise ten, twenty years before. And they believe it with all their hearts.
They won't come. INstead, they'll dumb more people until this place is full of the middle and upper class, making us labor for them.

Sometimes, when I would go visit those who I care about, I would watch their expressions as they gazed at the stars. Their smiles when they would stare at the moons, they sadness when they stared at the gaping hole on another planet that now takes the place of one of our moon.

And every time they gazed, they would say, in low whispers, shaking from anticipation: "They're gonna come for us soon, won't they?" And their gleaming eyes full of nothing but hope, no trace of doubt, would stare at me.

But I never agreed, never gave them a slight nod, smile, or shake of the head. I remained silent, returned their gaze for only a few seconds worth of a glimpse, and stare at the moon again.
Eventually, one of my friends, a rather cheerful women who never stirs at my given nickname, went to see them. They knew what that gapping hole in the moon was from, because I told them without hesitation. I didn't want them to grow ignorant and foolish.

But she lectured me when she heard them tell her, with repeated chants, feeling utterly accomplished that they knew, with pointed fingers towards the night sky, "July" "July" "Why mam, It's July!"

I remember her expression, full of kindness, the one when a mother disagrees with her child and tells them their wrong with only a slight shake of the head, and warm expression.

"No children." She hunched over due to her tall height, her hands pressing against her knees, face near theirs. She didn't mind their shocked expressions, as if she had broken their favorite toy before their faces. She didn't turn her body, but swung an arm, straight out, behind her, her finger pointing towards the moon. "That's a crater"

They all gasped and whispered to each other, mispronouncing the word, struggling to get it right from memorization.

A kid, bold and pudgy, turned to her, his expression full of enlightenment, and the desire to know more.
"M-Mam… What's ah… Ah Kurai… Kurahter?"

She planted a hand on his head, and lied. "In the universe, there are large rocks, known as meteors. Surrounding some planets, there is atmosphere, known as the atmospheric layer. But when a planet has no atmospheric layer, then when a BIG rock heads towards it, it doesn't slow down or get smaller. It goes at FULL speed, and crashes against the planet, and makes a big BOOM!… Then the large rock turns into small rocks, EVERYWHERE, and leaves behind a BIG hole," She turned around, looking towards the moon, her face warm, her smile remained, even when she thought no one was looking. "Known as a Crater." She let out a small laugh. "But don't worry kids. We have an Atmospheric Layer. STRONG ENOUGH to stop ANY mean ol' meteor. It will protect us. I know it will…"

It didn't take rocket science, or the code book of deciphering to know what she was saying. Atmospheric Layer, supposedly strong….
Psh, my ass.
If the Atmospheric Layer is the savior, then what am I?
I rank higher than that layer, I protect that layer, as I promised to someone long ago.

Oh, big girl. There's no way Vash can be that layer to protect us from another 'crater'….

Since then, the kids never stopped asking about the meteors, the craters, the layers of the planet. Some were scared, some were fascinated and wanted to know more.

Although I love them with all my heart, I just wish that for once, when I visit, they don't go all ape shit crazy or scared about some bullshit frosting Milley covered the ugliest cake with.

Unfortunately I realize my cigarette is cashed as I jab it's wet filter against the ash tray, the slight burn covering the tips of my fingers. No more to calm my anxiety as I ponder my past.

How bothersome.

Not to mention I don't have enough money to buy another pack. Not that I should even if I did.

As of lately, me and Spikey have been getting no cash from nothing. We go from town to town, fight off many bad guys and threats to cleanse and pure, but they end up giving us the boot, and no earnings.

Sometimes, forgive me lord, I just wish that Spikey could sleep through anything, especially a gun fight. Because I would sit on a roof top and watch below as the people of towns just ran around, getting pierced with bullets, crying for help.

You see, the outcome would be different, but the result would be pitiful.

If I were to sit and wait for 20 people to die, then come in and play the role of a hero, I would receive thanks, maybe some food, but then get assaulted by those who lost family members, and kicked out of town because I didn't save them.

But if I decide to jump in and help before casualties, I would end up getting scorns and fowl comments about how I think I'm all that, that I'm just 'too good' of a fighter and that my timing was 'too perfect'. Then they would say in full confidence, "We have no doubt that you planned this from the start to bum us off. Well, guess what?! We ain't giving! So bug off with your blond haired bullet freak, and never come back, assholes!"

Yeah, it happens all the time.

Fortunately, nothing has happened here. Though with our luck, no doubt some gang will come from some random direction, or generate from thin air, and attack. Then Spikey would jump in and defend, then I would have to jump in and protect him, then I get involved. Then we both get involved, and both get kicked out. Yadda yadda yadda, you know how it goes.

…. Sometimes I wonder why I'm with this idiot. Because every single damn time I look at him, I feel my sanity slowly drive away.

At night, when we walk through the deserts, going from one town to the next, we camp, have our small meals, and poke at the fire as we glance up at the stars.

But we both know very well we aren't gazing at the stars, we're gazing at the moon. The forgotten planet. And our eyes are aimed at "July".

When I feel like he's too consumed with self hatred for himself and Knives, I glance, and watch as his expression slowly cringes, until he's glaring at the moon.

At first, his whispers would catch me off guard, but now, I always watch him as he says it. The usual, "You'll pay for this… Knives."

The depth in those few words. The hatred, the desire to regain happiness, and to feel a bit forgiven. All to gain, only from him, Knives.

Only the mention of the name alone sends chills down my spine. Not because I'm frightened of Knives, no way in hell.

But because of the truth behind Knives.

I remember when we first met, you and me Spikey.

A long time back, I was in search for something. Let's just say, self salvation from self destruction.

After going through a lot of blockades, I reached this small, seemingly abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, alone, no one around to claim it theirs.

Full with utter fury, I paced towards it, ignoring the pain in my joints, the seared bullets in my skin.

I just wanted it, the end. I wanted to put an end to that which brought hell to the other planet, which killed thousands.

I was a son of God, I worked for him, and protected the world his son was birthed on. And I still am, still do.

But at that moment that I reached the door. When I yelled all my anguish out in single breathe; when I stood over the hole in the ground with my gun aiming towards his head, I couldn't move.

There I stood, frozen, scared, wide shaking eyes to his chilling ones. Smirking in hatred, with pleasure.

He had consumed me with all his "power", enough to allow me sight to my own future, and what was to come after I die. All those people, those children I must protect.

He rose from the ground, smirk still in place. Normally I would find long curly locks on any man, standing before me naked, the most comical thing to have witnessed. But even with his drag queen like style, he was indescribably frightening.

He promised to stay away from the children. "Normally, I would spare no human. Whether elder, child, or infant. I plan to consume this planet, and destroy not only it, but all of the human race. Ever living being, whether human or alien…. Dead!" His face seemed of stone. Hard, serious. But he seemed lost in those eyes, looking past me, and probably off towards something in his memory. But the smirk returned. "I have a proposition for you… Wolfwood…" Why or how he knew my name, didn't matter.

Obviously, this… Thing, -hooked up to a bunch of tubes and wires-, was not human.

Intimidating it? Not a chance.

Fleeing like a coward? Over my dead body.

He took a step closer, and I tensed. Shame coursed through me. Never did I tense to an enemy, save for the first time I killed with a gun. But never, no matter how large or skilled my enemy was, tensing was never my forte. That's what I was trained to become. Fearless. Showing even the smallest twitch was nothing but pitiful.

With a slight bend back, he observed me with what seemed baffled shock, that was over ridden by the shaking of his laughter. "Haha! The great Wolfwood, shaking in his leather shoes. I won't kill you, don't worry. Instead, for you, a skilled fighter, I will let you live… If you do as I ask." He stood still, like a statue. But I was still tense, I couldn't move. No one was controlling me, I was just to scared to move, because I feared death above all.

This thing, if I moved, it would surely move twice my speed, and overtake my dexterous accuracy. No doubt a leg would have flown off before I pulled the trigger.

"Wolfwood… I want you to take care of a certain someone. If you promise to protect my twin brother, Vash… Then I promise to not harm, touch, or go near the children. Sacrifice yourself, take the bullets." His smirk faded, and he instead glared. "But if you fail, and die in the process." With a swift movement of his pale arm, he placed his forearm towards his neck, and swiped it across. "Then my promise to you will be broken." He lowered his arm, and ordered me to leave.

And now I wonder, if only I pulled the trigger, then I wouldn't be in this mess. Then the threat of humanity would be no more, and we would be in vessels in space without a care, traveling light years to find a suitable planet to live on. Just like that crap about Adam and Eve, one of the pieces in the bible I find humorous, complete and utter bull shit.

But they would be out prime example of expanding and reconstruction.

"Sir…?"

I open my eyes with some force. "Hn?" I rub my palm against my head. I guess I was dosing off.

Even though the person politely asked for my attention, I don't bother looking to her.

My body leans against the wooden seat as I slouch against it, the gap in between my lower back and seat a bit uncomfortable. I wish I could afford a good message.

Besides, I can see her just fine on my sunglasses, reflecting her shy composure and nervous expression.

A rather tall slender female, average complexion covered in small freckles. Her light brown hair is pulled back, a bun at the back of her head. She looks around 19.

She hugs the round metallic platter she was once holding out with some shots (the alcoholic beverage cup, people) against her chest. "Um… It's closing time now.. And here's the bill for that whiskey…" He pulled a hand from behind the platter, holding out the check.

But I wave it off. "It was on the house. I fixed the bar owners bike."

"Oh!…" She pulls back, looking to the check in apology, embarrassment, and uncertainty. "Well, I'll notify the owner then. I don't think he'll mind you staying a bit long-"

"It's fine…" I interrupt, looking away from her reflection. My eyes look up past the curtain of my bangs, staring at a nearing figure. "It seems I have to go too." Closing my eyes, as a final rest before straining them again, I stand, blindly grabbing my sunglasses from the table top.

"O-Oh… Well…." She bowed lightly. "Thank you. And please, come again."

I nodded, looking down to her, the bow so deep I could only look at the back of her head. Walking to my gun, -wrapped nicely with white, dirt stained clothe, bound by a long belt with golden buckles, masking it, making it seem like a large cross-, I pick it up.

Turning towards the small gate opening, I begin to take my leave. "Oh…!" I remember, turning towards her, who now stands. She looks prettier than the reflection gave off. "Tell the old man that he should store cigarettes in there too for a fair price. That way he could start a trend, so that when I go to some other bar far away, I won't have to bea-… Search for someone who's willing to sell me a pack."

Her brows knot, she seems worried. But as if her mind told her that there was nothing she could do about bad smoking habits, she smiles. "Yes." She nods with a cheerful voice.

I smile lightly, and turn. "Night." I wave, my eyes focusing on the blonde who now stands a few feet from the exit, his expression, as usual, idiotic. Or is it surprise? Did I do something weird?… I have an ego you know. I shake my thoughts away. "What? Why the face?"

This is when I noticed the flicker in his eyes as they moved. I thought he was looking at me, but apparently he's looking over my shoulder, towards the girl.

I turn to look at her too, wondering why he gave her such a perplexed stare. But I see nothing odd.

"She bowed…" He blurted out, sounding convinced, as if he found out some new discovery. "She really bowed."

I must admit, I usually, -at times likes this, with his stupid statements-, give him my signature 'what the fuck' expression. But this time, I passed it by. Because I don't want to admit it, but I'm somewhat surprised too. I never saw someone bow.

Turning to Vash, I ask, "So what?" Yes, I'm curious.

He glances to me, then back to the girl. "Well, you see, more then a hundred years ago, that expression was commonly used in the other planet."

"You mean the moon… Or as it's known today, "July"." He froze for a second, like some robot, registering the data, and regained movement, as if nothing happened.

He nods. "Yeah. That planet was where the first few humans from Earth lived. I know Japanese because the technology Rem had installed in our ships software. So, I decided to reside in Asian populated areas first. All of them bowed. I asked them why," One of his brows knot. "Such a strange expression." He smiles. "They stood up to me, seeming utterly confused, and told me that I wouldn't know because I was a foreigner. That the expression translates to appreciation, and the depth of the bow determines the sign of gratitude and respect. Half wayed is a small token of thanks, mid center is great gratitude, and the appreciation rates higher by the lower the bow."

I just nod. What a boring story. But strange. "So… Why does it surprise you?"

He looks to me, I bet the girl is no where in sight. "You've never seen it. Because that expression was never used again for more than 100 years… After "July"… So she must either be a survivor, or educated in history…"

A survivor? Of "July"?… I don't like the sound of that. My eyes narrow towards Vash.

He seems bothered, and looks away, towards the moon.

"I promise you Wolfwood… We'll stop Knives in any way possible."

I stand still, looking at him past my bangs, hiding my furrowed brows. "Does that mean killing him is an option too?"

Instead of an expected answer, he looks to me. Shivers run down my spine. It's that same look. That same damn look, smirking eyes, not sane at all. Wide, crazed. His expression, I feel like it reads, 'Are you truly naïve?'. But it leaves just as quickly as it came.

"Of course not Wolfwood." He smiles, and it slowly fades. "What's wrong?" He seems confused, concerned.

I notice I'm huffing lightly, and quickly try to regain my composure. "Nothing." I pull the gun onto my back further, and begin to walk. "It's nothing."

But it is.
This all, it's just too twisted. I'm confused beyond belief.
Knives this, Knives that. He blames Knives for "July", he promises to avenge deaths caused by Knives.
Vash, I see no Knives. I've never heard of Knives.

"Oh, and Wolfwood?"

"Hn..?" I'm irritated. Seriously, I need a cigarette. I won't last miles with this guys at my back.

"We're headed west, okay?"

I look over my shoulder. "Why west?"

He shrugs. "Me and Knives are twins. It may sound crazy, but sometimes I could almost feel and read his thoughts. He's headed there, to destroy the town."

"Oi," I stop and turn to him. "You said both you and Knives are identical twins. How can I determine who's who when we battle?"

I stands still, pondering. "Hmm… Well, Knives has a mole under the crease of his right eyes. And mine is on the left." He finishes, stands still, observing me, as if waiting for me to ask another question.

"Don't worry, I'm not stupid… I get it." I spat, turning towards the road ahead again. Soon after I hear his footsteps following behind me.

How can I keep this promise?
Who are you? Are you Vash? Or are you Knives?
And obviously, you've never heard of a mirror, dumbass.

Author- Hmmm.. I bet you don't get this much, lol. Basically, I took the original story, and kind of twisted some things around. I'm following the MANGA, remember that! Well, if you guys don't get it yet, I'm not spoiling, lol, I guess you'll learn later on. But Wolfwood definitely wants to kill Knives once and for all. The only problem is his fear. So close, yet too much of a coward.
And yet he continues his journey…. This chapter is supposed to confuse you. Later on is when you'll be all "ohｈｈ!" But for now, linger in the darkness, mwahahahaaa. It… Is… To fucking hot. Honestly, I think if I lived in a desert planet, I would sweat until I die. I weigh 115lbs man! I shouldn't feel like I'm dying!

Hey, you people! Stop sucking, be economically smart to reduce the infliction of pollution and out Atmospheric layer! Or looking 2-4 years from now, we'll live in a dust bowl!