The Winding Desert
Chapter 7
No Man's Land
Palo Alto was a rather quaint tiny town, with its charming adobe architecture, and the only memorable feature it had was its phallic water tower. Many people who had passed through the town had made jokes about it, and some of them even pretended to give it the "old fashioned salute" or whatever one might call a hand job on No Man's Land nowadays.
It had been established by one Pablo Suarez-Zavala nearly 80 years ago; Despite the founder's attempts to attract more people to his little corner by bragging about the rich mineral deposits that had been discovered there, it never expanded beyond its initial populace of 88 until 41 years later. During that period, there was a baby boom fuelled by migrants from the nearby city of Valdoor that ballooned the populace to 240. The school was established soon after that event, beginning out as a one-room schoolhouse before expanding to a six-classroom building as the needs of the populace increased.
This was where the group was currently located; the bus they were on had broken down during the second leg of the long journey toward Valdoor, which begun in the small city of Pablo's Gauntlet, and would have ended in Valspar Town. From there Meryl Stryfe, Ania Solezulam, Milly Thompson and Vash would have transferred to a larger, more comfortable coach for their last leg of their journey.
The two hotels there were filled to the brim, and during busy times the aforementioned school acted as overflow space.
"These cots are so uncomfortable, Meryl," Milly had groused when she saw the rows lined up in the small gymnasium of the school.
"I've slept on worse," Vash noted as he inspected one of them. They were ugly and as Milly had noted they were built for function, not comfort. He had slept on many beds like them over the course of his long life.
"Me too," Ania snorted, "I once had to crash at a seedy hotel in Neon City. That Traveler-damned place was filled with whores fucking their clients. The beds were filthy, too. Some even had dried feces seared over them. Fucking worst place I've ever stayed at."
"Did you leave a negative review of the place?" Meryl's question caught the Awoken gunslinger off guard.
"Oh, yeah. Absolutely blasted the owners for their negligence and jackassery. When I asked them to clean up their act, they swore at me. One even threatened me with a gun," Ania retorted.
"I'm not that surprised, Ania. Neon City is the place where people's dreams go to die," Milly's observation made sense in a twisted way, when the four mulled over it. Meryl personally knew two people who had fell for Neon City's allure. For Ania, it was one of the popular girls at her junior high school who had headed straight toward the place with the intention to break it big at the Crewlin studios. The last time the female gunslinger had seen her, she was a drug-addicted prostitute being pimped out by one of the Scarlet Jesters there. Vash had travelled through the city many times, and he had seen the red-light districts there. The women and girls there were contained in cage-like displays, and their expressions were totally bereft of any joy whatever. It didn't help matters that they were forced to dress scantily in the hope of attracting the male gaze. Occasionally he would hear muffled screams from inside the brothels; he had assumed that one of the prostitutes were being forced into a sex act against her will.
"Remember Palkabayagalbington?" Milly asked, as she took out a scone she had purchased in a café in Pablo's Gauntlet and begun chowing down on it.
"Yes, the claim we filed in that town was one of the strangest. It seems it involved an exploding kettle and two thugs," Meryl's reminiscing was met with confusion from Vash and Ania.
"And to make it worse, the deputy mayor was involved," Milly added.
While the two employees of the Bernadelli Insurance Society conversed about their work, Vash and Ania had turned their attention to the beds in front of them. They could see that the blankets the town provided for the stranded travellers were rather flimsy. It made sense, as Palo Alto had a limited budget because of its size.
"Shit," Vash's whispered remark summed up the entire group's feelings about being shoed in with other people like a warehouse.
"Let's hit the sack as soon as possible," Ania yawned; three hours earlier the group had spent their time peeking into the little shops on the main street. They were full of kitschy things that even her parents would have disapproved of, like garden gnome side tables and Kinkade-style paintings. There was even a set of pink flamingo lawn ornaments. Ania had been sorely tempted to purchase them and then plop them in front of their home as a prank.
"Good night," Milly yawned, as she laid down on her berth. There were murmurs of affirmation, before four pairs of eyes shut as their owners drifted off to dreamland.
Freehold, Mars
Benjamin Sherman gunned down a Legionary while Mirai Harding prepped her Shadowshot. The group of Cabal had been herded into a tight group by the Exo Striker on his team, Banshee-12. She was an experienced Titan, having fought on many battlefields over the course of her career. From what the Exo told Benjamin, Banshee-44 was ancient by comparison; he had been around ever since the beginning of the Collapse, and as a result his number reflected the numerous resets he had experienced.
She had been found on an abandoned space station way out in the Reef by her Ghost. She was able to successfully escape it, arriving in the Last City well over 110 years ago. After her initial training under Zavala, Banshee-12 was quickly accepted into the Firebreak Order, and she rose through the ranks as she accumulated experience in fighting the various foes that made up the Darkness.
Benjamin had just recently been accepted into the ranks of the Sunbreaker Order, after he caught Ouros' eye during a particularly bloody battle between Vex and a band of Fallen from the House of Winter on Mercury near Osiris's lighthouse. They were intent on stealing some obscure Vex component to incorporate in the Servitors they had among them. He had charged the two groups head on and routed them decisively, wiping them out with lightning-charged fists. The Third Empyreal Magistrate had taken him to the Solar Forge, where he learned to summon the Hammer of Sol. He was shortly initiated into the Order soon after that event.
Mirai's Shadowshot stuck the ground at the center of the group. The tethers reached out and grasped it unfortunate victims in it tenebrous grasp. That Which Lies Beneath the Universe feasted upon them, and it sighed in satisfaction after partaking in the morsel that the Nightstalker offered it.
"Damn, that was some crazy shit," Banshee-12, "Still couldn't believe we were all chosen for Taskforce VOYAGER,"
"Agreed, I was totally floored. Thought it was one of Cayde's bloody pranks," The Nightstalker threw her two cents in.
"I can recall the news about the SEEDS project. Everyone was chatting about it for days, ever since the data was recovered. Someone pissed me off with an offhand comment about these Dead Orbits fucks wanting first dibs on the info," Benjamin admitted sheepishly, "Although the Firebreak guy had a point, I absolutely hate Jalaal. He's a cowardly asshole."
"Zavala once said that the idiot didn't understand that his ancestors made the mistake of fleeing and it made the situation worse, though," Mirai noted, "There were billion of causalities because of that foolish choice."
"Do you remember the Vonj twins?" Banshee-12's query flummoxed her teammates.
"I dunno," the human Sunbreaker shrugged, "I'm not much of a rumor person. All I know is that their names are Shuro and Shin, but that's it for me."
"I've heard of their brawl at Rux Lupalis. I assumed they were quite pissed at the idea of being uprooted from the new home they had just made there," the biracial Nightstalker interjected, "Little wonder the Guardians who were tasked with bringing them in had to resort to the Satomi restraints."
All three shuddered at the thought of these things. The Warlock Satomi, well known for her forays into Murder Row and her dabbling in thanatonautics, had also developed these limits for unruly Guardians during her career. There were three types, and each one was specifically designed for a specific class. The Rhino-type were specifically designed to deal with Titans; It was a device that attached to the wrists and was specifically aimed at disrupting the class's physical capabilities, including super strength. The Hunters' shackles were called the Mustang-type and it focused more on disabling any attempts to escape, be it through their natural dexterity or any act of flexibility. The Warlocks' was far the most severe, as it temporarily severed any connection to the Light whatever. That one was called the Cormorant-type.
Both Benjamin and the unnamed Firebreak Titan he had brawled with had been placed in the Rhino restraint after the little incident in The Three Castles, another pub popular with Titans. It was one of his most regrettable moments. His fellow Guardians had stared at him while the duo was pulled off to a specifically designed drunk tank for their ilk.
"I hated being stuck in these restraints," Benjamin admitted as he looked around, cradling his Suros Regime in his arms.
"Me too. I once brawled with Baruch Kovj over an arm-wrestling match. Got in trouble for that one," Banshee-12 's embarrassment was apparent on her mechanical face as she removed her helmet. Her burgundy chassis was highlighted by her amber optics and mouth. A set of white stacked triangles was painted between them, and she had black antennae where the ears would be situated on Human and Awoken.
"We need to move on," Mirai pointed out, "So much to do in such a short span of time."
There were murmurs of agreement from the other two.
Palo Alto
*Begin Dream Sequence*
Rylie Winder. Jackson Selassie. Ilona Zagitova. Pauline Sherman. Norton Paschko. All childhood friends of Ania Solezulam, ever since kindergarten.
She was her six years old self and all of them were playing on the playground of their elementary school. The signage on the wall of it read Poseidon Elementary School.
"Let's race! Last one's a rotten egg!" Pauline, a redheaded girl with vibrant blue eyes yelled. The six lined up at one of the long ends of the playground. All six kids sped along the school grounds, intent on reaching the end of the school grounds. It suddenly changed to open desert, with the native flora of No Man's Land. They kept on sprinting, trying to outrun each other.
Norton Paschko faded away; Ania grew to an eight-years-old. Then Pauline Sherman did the same thing, and she grew to that of an eleven-years-old. Jackson Selassie and Illona Zagitova disappeared as her body became thirteen-years-old. Leaving only Rylie Winder. As Ania grew through fourteen, fifteen sixteen and so on, Rylie was there with her going through similar growth.
It was when the duo was twenty-one that they came upon a chasm. They stopped. It was one of the canyons that was ubiquitous to No Man's Land. Ania leapt over it, and as Rylie thought she was about to fall to her death, the Awoken woman jumped again, reaching the other side. Ania turned to the side her old friend was on. Their eyes met, and it was in that moment Ania realized Rylie couldn't pull the same thing she just did without dying.
Several cloaked figures in light armour approached her. They had the same AIs that followed her father around, but something was amiss. Ania suddenly spotted one that didn't have a partner, and it hovered above her before it moved to eye level.
"At last, I've found my Guardian! Nice to meet you," It made a pirouette before it moved to her shoulder.
*End Dream Sequence*
Ania woke up with a cry. That dream she had recurred for many years ever since she was twelve. It always ended at the mid-jump point. But strangely she had reached the endpoint, with her meeting another AI that originated from the same source as her father's. But why would this thing choose her? She was an ordinary bounty hunter and not that worthy of an AI; it would be better off in other hands, like the scientists working to help terraform No Man's Land.
But there was Markus Granlund, and he was a bartender. He had one; it seemed that it granted powers to the ones that was chosen to be its partner. It reminded Ania of the concept of the shards from an old novel that was converted from web format called Worm. In that story they were fragments of larger beings that granted powers to the parahumans in that setting. They were intelligences that could influence their host, and some were parasitic. The difference between the AI and them was that the shards of the Worm universe operated behind the scenes, and they resided on an alternate Earth that was totally devoid of life. The AIs that followed her father and Granlund assisted them and often advised them whenever necessary, and their symbiotic relationship were mutualistic.
The cloaked figures were another matter entirely. Growing up Ania had always thought cloaks looked cooler than coats, and had dressed accordingly, even when it had violated school uniform codes. The teachers had given up on Ania after the tenth time she was sent to the principal for dress code violations. Her unusual idiosyncrasies had been noted by her teachers; she had been banned from bringing bladed objects like knives to school even though fidgeting with them helped her focus in class. So, she had retorted to tapping, twirling and flipping pens and pencils. It still irritated her classmates and teachers to an extent, though.
Ania had recalled that they held themselves in a manner not unlike herself. They were constantly shifting from one foot to the other, and some twitched their hand, as if they were reaching for something. The Awoken woman had lost count of how many times her impatience had gotten her in trouble with her teachers and her parents. Even Meryl and Vash had took note of this trait. They had assumed the movements was a way to keep Ania's focus from slipping when she had to stay idle for lengthy periods of time.
"P-please pass the pudding…" Milly mumbled in her sleep. Ania face-palmed; Meryl had warned her about the aforementioned woman's tendency to talk in her sleep. She could recall one particularly funny dream conversation Milly had that referenced an argument with fairies while flying on a balloon headed to the moon Cúig.
"W-What?"
"I'm the queen of caramel pudding! Bow down, my loyal subjects!" Another mumbling from the asleep woman had made Ania bite back a snicker. She made a silent vow to the Traveler to purchase a portable tape recorder to record some of Milly's dream mumblings.
"That was hilarious," Vash commented; he had been awake for a bit longer than Ania, "The thing people say in their sleep is a staple of comedy."
"Not to mention there's contests for discovering the funniest sleep-talking lines," she said.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Recording Milly's sleep-talk and entering the tapes in one of them? Great idea!"
The light of the rising double suns broke through the skylights of the gymnasium the group were in. Milly was still mumbling various non-sensical things in her sleep, while Meryl stretched and yawned as she awoke.
"Good morning," Her greetings were met with murmurs of acknowledgment from Vash and Ania.
"I'm made of awesome. I'm going to-," A glass of water was splashed upon a sleeping Milly's face. She flailed around clumsily. This action caused the tall woman to fall off her cot; the people surrounding the group stared at her.
"Do you ever realize how annoying your sleep talking is?" An irritated Meryl held up an empty glass. Milly figured that it was her who had poured the water. Ania had a big fat sweatdrop on her head while Vash chuckled nervously.
"And some of the things that come straight out of your mouth when you're asleep stumps the hell out of us," Ania pointed out.
"Not to mention embarrassing," Meryl's eye twitched in annoyance.
"S-Sorry," Milly's nervous chuckle was met with face palms from her fellow females. She stood up from where she fell and dusted off her clothes. Grabbing her teal and yellow duster, she quickly put it on.
"Onward to the cafeteria, my friends," Meryl shooed her friends on. The hallways of the school were painted a sunny yellow. The dim incandescent lighting served to mute the color; in a brighter, fluorescent setting the color would have been annoyingly bright. Children's art projects were pinned to a few billboards on each side and others held photos of the students in that classroom.
The cafeteria was painted in viridian green and cream. The black and white tile checkerboard floor had seen better days, and some parts were cracked where children had rocked back and forth on their chairs. The pendant lightning hovering over each table were industrial-style fixtures. They had obviously been purchased for their sheer durability.
The buffet had meagre options, though. There were scrambled eggs, toasts, cold cereal and breakfast sausage; the group desperately hoped for more, like pancakes and bacon. The beverages were limited to only water, orange juice and milk.
"Damnit," Ania muttered as she picked up a plate. Vash, Milly and Meryl followed suit; all silently cursed their ill-luck.
After they had filled up their plate the group moved to a table in one of the corners.
"Did you hear about the former child actress Keisha Breyan?" Milly asked as she bit into a sausage.
"Er, I'm not that well-versed in celebrity culture," Ania replied. She was uncomfortable with the idea of fame.
"Never liked Crewlin. I flat-out refuse to support them. That place is an endless circus of spoiled brats and paparazzi," Meryl scoffed. Her annoyance was clear on her face.
"There's rumors that some directors turn a blind eye to the sexual exploitation of aspiring actors and actresses," Ania pointed out, "I would not be surprised, given the fact that Crewlin is in Neon City."
"Well, that's what the rumors swirling around Breyan alleged. They claimed a famous director molested her. And that her parents were bribed to ignore the abuse," Milly pulled out a celebrity magazine she had purchased a few days ago and gestured to it, "The article about her in this claimed that a tell-all book was being inked by Breyan's paternal uncle."
"I've heard worse," Vash's cryptic admittance shocked and flummoxed the women.
"The last time a tell-all caused a major scandal, it ended up booting both the incumbent mayor of Macca City and his deputy from office," Ania's observation made sense. Tell-all books were risky business. Many such books had backfired on their authors in the last few decades, with costly results. Some of them were lawsuits while others ended up costing the people who wrote them numerous job offers. One particularly egregious example was Pilar Robertsen's Memoirs of a Backstage Assistant; it revealed allegations of sordid sexual affairs of several high-ranking opera actors with teenage girls. After the book was published, the author was fired from her job and placed on the blacklist of various theatres.
"Was it five or six years ago? I can't recall," Milly commented.
"If I recall correctly, it was seven years ago," Vash had taken the initiative to correct Milly's mistake.
Sixty-four kilometres northwest of Palo Alto
A tall man with carmine hair tied back in one of these ponytails that was prominent in samurai-style anime walked alongside three henchmen. He wore an open sage overcoat over black slacks and two criss-crossed belts was layered over the bottoms. His hard-wearing boots were charcoal, and they were steel-toed. In the holsters attached to his belts there were wakizashi, and on his back he carried a titanium-alloy boomerang.
His nut-brown skin had several tribal tattoos over his exposed chest, and his face had two scars that didn't detract from his handsome appearance. His hands had unusually long fingers, and they were tattooed. The phalanges of the right hand with the word "TAKE" and the left "THAT"; The henchmen had assumed that it was a covert insult at whoever had trampled on this man's pride.
"Takayama, have you heard? The Humanoid Typhoon was spotted recently in Palo Alto," One of them put his hands behind his head. He had a decaying bucktooth and a vicious scar that begun at the forehead and ran down to his neck. It was a direct result of another man torturing him while he was in No Man's Land's only prison with a glass shard.
"And he's heading toward Valdoor, Pine," The second henchmen, a man built like a sumo wrestler replied. He wore non-descript brown overalls and worn-out black cowboy boots. His bald head once bore a lush mane of blond hair but as his forehead receded, he had decided to shave it all off.
"I never liked that place, Bount," The last one grumbled. The only thing that stood out about this man was his nose. It was comically big, and as a child he had been made fun of for this feature. His hair was a tangled mop of navy blue.
"Asshole,"
"Dicktard,"
"Cocksucker,"
Takayama watched as his henchman exchanged insults between the three of them. Bount, the fat one charged at Pine with the aim of giving him a good pummeling, only to be tripped by the third man.
"Ocala, how dare you!" Bount roared angrily at him. Ocala proceed to kick the man in the balls. The rotund man's voice went two octaves higher than his usual pitch and he clutched at his crotch.
"That's for being a dumb fuck," Ocala snarled.
"HALT your bickering, RIGHT NOW!" Takayama's annoyance with the three had grew to near-volcanic levels. He drew one of his wakizashi and brandished it at the insufferable fools he had picked up in Dankin Town a few months ago. Pine held up his hand to his shoulders in surrender. Bount flipped Ocala the bird as he got up.
"Sorry, Takayama," Pine said; his nerves were further frayed by the fact that his employer was brandishing one of his weapons at him.
"You're-," A spurt of blood came out of no where. Bount clutched his arm; it turned out Takayama had the guts to cut off his forearm.
"Don't question my orders," Takayama spat out, "We're going after Vash the Stampede now. No if, buts and whys."
Ocala murmured a string of curse words under his breath. Why did he had to be stuck with idiots like Pine and Bount?
Palo Alto
Ania swung her legs while she sat on one of the benches in the bus station. Next to her, Vash was doing a little goofy jig with his legs only. It involved doing a kind of movement that one moved the heels, then the forefeet, before going back to them. Rinse and repeat. Meryl wasn't impressed by that one. She found it extremely irritating. Milly was singing a screeching rendition of Oops, I did it again! It was written by one ancient pop singer who will forever remain nameless; it was known to have originated from long before the Collapse.
Ania bonked Milly on the head, as veins popped on her head. A bump grew on Milly's head. As Meryl followed up with another hit a second later, a smaller one soon budded from the original one.
"What was that for!" Milly winced as she rubbed the spot where Ania and Meryl had pummeled her earlier.
"Traveler, do you ever realize how bad you sound," She groaned as she rubbed her temples.
"Jesus His Holiness Christ help us all if we ever get forced to listen to your singing, Milly," Meryl's murmured prayer was barely audible to all, save for Ania and Vash's enhanced hearing.
"Ave Maria, Ave Maria," the unnamed man next to Meryl whispered his agreement. He returned to prayer, palming his Irish penal rosary.
"You sound like a fucking strangled cat," The blue-skinned gunslinger snorted. She picked up a throwing knife from veiled sheaths in her pants and twirled it, while looking out the window. Milly sweatdropped. By the Saviour's good name, why did Ania had to bring this point up?
"All passengers on Route 118, please report to gate B-6. Repeat, all passengers on Route 118, please report to gate B-6," the public-address system blared over the loudspeakers.
"That's our bus," Vash pointed; the group headed to the gate. As the quarter took out their boarding passes and ID, each one found themselves anxious to get out of Palo Alto. The town was boring, and there weren't much to do there except jeering at the water tower's unfortunate shape.
The bus they boarded was spacious and comfortable, a far cry from the cramped quarters of the original bus they were on. The seats were upholstered in gray velvet with sky blue and indigo dots and they were set up in pairs in each side. The overhead luggage racks were just as expansive and could hold more luggage.
Accord to the PR representative of Alghrabi Express who had been dispatched to Palo Alto, the model they had been riding on previously was due to be phased out in the coming three months. The four had assumed that the transport company had run the buses until they were totally non-functioning. It made sense, as the owners were eager to squeeze every cent out of the network.
As the duo sat down in their assigned seats, Kuroneko-sama could be seen lurking under Meryl's chair. She bared her teeth before yawning and falling back asleep.
Abelo District, December
Larymissa Solezulam checked over the inventory of the boutique she worked at. It had been established well over twelve years ago by a woman called Grace Winona Riddle. After she had been murdered by a controlling ex-boyfriend on her wedding day four years ago, it had been transferred to the control of her younger sister, Laurella Riddle-Breyan. The name was changed from Grace's Dress Shoppe to the Fuchsia Lily, and the interior had been rearranged and repainted. The business changed it focus from providing bridal and formal attire to providing funky, vintage-style fashion from Pre-Collapse society.
She had noted that one of the most popular styles, the Grace, was running out in both white and red. It was a polka-dot shirtdress with an A-line skirt and rose-shaped buttons. She scribbled notes to order more.
The Seraphina, a one-shoulder dress with a matching belt and a colorful butterfly print was coming in today. It was going to be one of the newest offerings in the boutique. It had been inspired by the 1970s disco scene. The only other disco-inspired item was a silver holographic halter-neck romper and it hadn't been selling well. Larymissa had figured that it was the plunging neckline. The women of December were nearly puritanical when it came to exposing cleavage in social settings. They had always chosen square and scoop necks for their clubbing wear.
She enjoyed the attentions of her husband when she showed off her cleavage, though. The way his eyes darkened as he admired the curves of her body. The way his hands wandered up and down her body, both clothed and nude never ceased to arouse her. And his mouth… the sounds that Cegrim coaxed out of her when he put it to her secret regions would make polite company blush a nice shade of beet red.
"What do you think of this," Misha Lehnsherr asked. The woman was short, and her buxom chest was a continued source of embarrassment as men often stared at it. The clipboard she carried held one of her latest designs. It consisted of a polka-dot blouse with butterfly sleeves and heart-shaped buttons. The swatches of chiffon fabric pinned to the picture came in two different colorways. One was ecru with burnt orange dots, and the other was mustard yellow with black dots.
"I think it need more variety in color," Larymissa answered, "A lilac and white variant would be popular with the older crowd."
"And a fuchsia and black version would certainly catch the eye of the twenty-something crowd," Misha agreed. She had realized that although her design was sound, people liked having a variety of options to choose from.
They turned to a swatch board filled with various shades of colors. Three shades of lilac were laid out side-by shade. Two were muted; one had a bluish undertone while the other had grayish tones. The third was a bit brighter.
"I've heard rumours that your daughter is travelling with the Humanoid Typhoon," Laurella Breyan entered the door, interrupting the two's thoughts as they inspected the swatches. She was a tall and spindly woman with a morose-looking face.
"She was always courting trouble one way or another," Larymissa crossed her arms, "I recall when she pulled some stunt on her junior high school's roof based on a dare from her friend. Got the two of them in trouble with the school principal. They had detention for a week over that event."
"Do it have anything to do with the Haversley debacle?" Laurella's question stunned the two. It was a well-known fact that the scandal that the woman had mentioned was related to some school administrations rigging test scores to keep some low-income students from attending certain colleges. It was only when some unnamed journalist dug up the dirt on the details that it had became an issue. The ongoing events had received wide coverage across various television channels. It had resulted in the downfall of the newly elected superintendent Jack Haversley when it turned out he had colluded with some of the factions involved to turn the elections in his favour. The December police had raided his office and arrested him three weeks after his installment, and the rest of the council under him voted 9-2 to permanently remove and blacklist the corrupt fool.
"Yes. Ania had the gall to hang a banner from the roof that claimed that Peter Wicker, the principal at that time was a corrupt liar," Larymissa's answer was not surprising. It was a well-known fact that Peter Wicker had colluded with the people involved in the debacle.
It didn't come as a surprise that the man had been murdered during his stint at No Man's Land's only prison. Nobody liked him, not even his fellow prisoners. He was only out for himself and his impressive ego rubbed on people's nerves.
"The fact is that Vash the Stampede tend to attract trouble wherever he goes," Laurella pointed out the obvious. There had been countless reports of towns being leveled because the aforementioned individual happened to be there at the time. From recent rumors, Fenlarl Town had barely escaped the destruction that had befallen Dankin Town. Larymissa sent a silent prayer to the Nine that the next town her daughter was in would be spared.
One hundred fifty-six kilometres northwest of Palo Alto
The soft light of Uno, Niidama and Cúig was visible through the windows of the bus the quartet was riding on. The scenery was dreadfully boring, and not even the sleepy mumblings of Milly could save Vash and Ania from a severe case of the lethargies.
"This trip is just as boring as Mr. Plein's class," Ania grumbled.
"Who is he to you?" Vash's query was quickly answered.
"Social studies teacher in high school. A total bore. I've lost count of how many times my classmates and I've fell asleep in his class," She crossed her arms in annoyance.
"Really?" Vash's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Everybody at my school nicknamed him Professor Binns for that reason," Ania scoffed. Vash could understand why, the Harry Potter series had long since become a literary classic in the centuries that had passed since it was published. It was so beloved that digital versions had been uploaded to the archives on the colony ships that had brought humanity to No Man's Land.
"I recall one elderly windbag from the outskirts of April. He jabbered my ears off with the same old stories of his youth. Apparently, they were all about sexual conquests. I tuned him out after the tenth time he begun bragging," the red-clad gunslinger reminisced.
"I once saw someone get murdered by another because he was bragging too much about sexually overpowering women," The blue-skinned woman pointed out.
"Really?"
"It occurred in Gallus. The man in question was drunk. He was on quite the spiel. When he began bragging about how he had forced a landowner's teenage daughter to perform some sex act I will not dare mention he was shot in the heart by somebody. It turned out that person was the girl's older brother. This asshat died instantly," The explanation Ania gave had reminded Vash of similar incidents he had encountered over the course of his long life.
One particularly memorable incident had occurred in Gustav's Sickle. Somebody had just bought drinks for the entire saloon Vash was in, and tongues began loosening. One of the bounty hunters there begun bragging about some rather racy antics involving a thirteen-years-old girl from the town. It didn't turn out well and a mob descended upon this fool. He was beaten to death, all because he had decided to molest a child.
Ania sighed. She took out her knife and twirled and flipped it as she watched the scenery pass by the window of the seat she occupied.
"Have you heard the rumors? The one abo-"
"GET DOWN!" Vash shouted. A giant boomerang bisected the bus, and his warning was timely.
Four thugs approached the ruined bus.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Humanoid Typhoon…," The tallest one said, his carmine ponytail blowing in the wind.
