Author's Note: This chapter is a little bit sillier. :P Enjoy!
The End
a Trigun fanfiction
XI. AN ORDINARY DAY.
Vash helped out with making dinner, in spite of some protests from Meryl.
"Why not?" he whined. "I can cook. I have to be able to after, like, a hundred years of cooking," he added, since Uncle Bennie wasn't in the room.
"I'd love to try some of your cooking, Mr. Vash," said Millie. "You can help me with the vegetable soup, if you want."
Meryl stood in the doorway, looking on disapprovingly.
"Come on, insurance girl," said Vash, "what's so bad about me cooking?"
She sighed. "I guess I just can't believe that someone as noodlebrained as you can cook at all."
"Hey, that's not fair," he said, pouting. "Just because I'm noodlebrained doesn't mean I can't cook."
Millie laughed. "Anyway, if you're going to help, you have to wash your hands," she said. She thought for a moment, and then began to push him out of the kitchen. "You should change, too, Mr. Vash. You're too dusty to be around food."
Vash did as he was told, and when he came back, Millie was the only in the kitchen. He could finally speak to her alone.
"Hey, Millie," he said cautiously, watching the door while slicing up the rows of carrots. "What… What exactly have you told your family about me?"
Millie looked up at him and blinked. "Oh, just the important stuff," she said breezily.
"Important?" he said, grimacing.
"You know," she elaborated, "that you've helped us tons of times and defeated the Nebraska family when we first met you, and that you're really funny and kind, and that you love donuts, and that you're an ace gunman, and that you helped fight off the Ark, and that one time you bought me and Meryl and some kids some ice cream, and that you dance funny – "
Vash's jaw dropped in indignation. "I do not!" he protested. Millie laughed and Vash turned his attention back to the carrots. "Well, if that's all," he muttered.
"Yup! Don't worry, I know that some things are a secret," said Millie brightly. "And as much as I want my family to know everything, it's probably better that they don't know you're a Pla – "
"How's the soup coming?" asked Uncle Bennie, walking in. Vash jumped and nicked his thumb with the knife he was holding, but luckily no one noticed, and he stuck it under the tap until it closed over.
"Good," said Millie, taking the pile of carrots from Vash and depositing them in the pot they were using. "All done cutting!" She moved over to give Vash space, and he started to sauté the vegetables. He heard a thunk on the kitchen table behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Uncle Bennie had placed a radio in the center of the table and was adjusting the antennae.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"Just my daily radio show," said Uncle Bennie, twisting the dials. The radio screamed with static, which stopped every few turns to blast some music or a talkshow host's voice.
Meryl walked in with a bucket of water and put it on the counter next to Vash. "Jeez, just turn it off," she said. "It's so loud."
"I've almost got it," said Uncle Bennie, sticking his tongue out between his teeth in concentration, listening carefully for his station as he turned the dial. The static continued. "Damn thing," he growled. "It's getting too old."
"Let me see?" said Vash, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"Don't hit it or anything," warned Meryl.
Vash rolled his eyes. Like he didn't know how to work with technology. His left arm was weaponized, for crying out loud. Vash turned off the radio and yanked the back open; it had lost the screws long ago. A wire had come loose, so he readjusted it carefully, but it wouldn't stick. He reached for a knife and began to use it to flatten the wire into place, but Meryl grabbed his hand.
"Don't do that!" she scolded. "You'll hurt yourself."
"It's off," he said. "What could happen?"
"You'll get a shock, and your hair will stick straight up," said Uncle Bennie, and then he and Vash laughed obnoxiously.
Vash got the wire to stick and then closed up the back with a snap. He readjusted the antennae, too, because Bennie had it bent too much, and when he turned it back on, a clear voice murmured through the speakers.
"Excellent!" said Uncle Bennie. He turned to Meryl suddenly. "This one's a keeper," he said seriously, gesturing to Vash with his thumb.
"I – don't – what?" Meryl stuttered.
"Shh," said Uncle Bennie, holding a finger to his lips. Meryl growled and shook with anger, about to protest, but then the man on the radio said something that made them all freeze.
"We're gonna interrupt our normal show for a minute, because we have some guests that have something they want to say. Mr .Gondalos?"
"Yeah, I have a message for some idiot out there named VASH THE STAMPEDE."
Meryl, Millie, and Uncle Bennie all looked at Vash, who was facing away from them at the stove. His shoulders rose to his ears, and he laughed nervously. Why would Carl go on the radio to give him a message?
"That peabrained moron," continued Mr. Gondalos, "came to our city and took one of our Plants away from us! If I ever see that insufferable, dimwitted, ugly idiot ever again, I'm going to throw everything I got at him! Including all my rotten apples!"
"What a jerk," said the radio personality, indignantly. "Thank you for sharing your story with us, Mr. Gondalos. Let it be known to everyone: Vash the Stampede is a dirty thief. Remember that the bounty on his head has increased to $$200,000,000,000!"
Uncle Bennie turned the radio down, and they turned to stare at Vash, who looked over his shoulder with an anxious smile.
"Eheh… I don't know what they're talking about," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't take anything from them…" His mouth flattened into a disapproving, annoyed line. "And I can't believe he called me ugly."
Meryl growled. "You're worried about that?" she shouted in disbelief. "What about their claim that you stole one of their Plants?"
Vash pouted. "Well, I don't know what that's about. I didn't even see any Plants when I was there."
"'There'?" asked Millie, tilting her head to the side.
Vash nodded and turned back to the soup, which was nearing a boil. "Yeah, I stayed with them for a while when I was… uh…" He glanced at Uncle Bennie. "Sick," he finished. He frowned again. "I don't know why he would be so mean…"
"Maybe he's mad at you," said Millie.
"What did I do?" whined Vash.
"So you know these people?" asked Uncle Bennie, tapping the top of the radio and looking at Vash with an eyebrow raised.
"Sort of…"
"Hmm." Uncle Bennie thought for a moment. "Well, maybe it's a code."
"Code?" said Millie.
"Yes," he said, nodding. "It could have a hidden meaning that only Vash would understand." The three of them looked at Vash again, who raised his hands, looking puzzled.
"I don't know," he said. "I just can't believe he called me ugly."
Meryl jumped up and smacked Vash on top of the head, which was quite a feat, considering her stature.
"Stop focusing on that, you peabrained idiot!"
When Meryl awoke the next morning, she felt barely rested. It probably had something to do with Vash. Having Vash around drained her of energy, and she wondered why she even wanted him around in the first place.
She walked into the kitchen, where Millie and Uncle Bennie would usually be, preparing breakfast, but they were not there. Puzzled, Meryl looked at the clock. Maybe she woke up earlier than she thought she did, and that's why she was tired.
But when she read the clock, she started. She had overslept for two hours?
She ran back into the room she shared with Millie. Why hadn't that girl woken her up? Uncle Bennie and Millie were probably in town already, selling vegetables, and Meryl had sworn that she was going to help out around the house as much as she could, since Uncle Bennie was putting her up.
She was dressed and ready to go in seconds, but just as she was about to head out the door, she caught sight of a note folded up on the kitchen table.
Meryl –
We decided to let you sleep in. Please don't worry about today! Enjoy your vacation!
Millie
Meryl sighed. Vacation – right. The problem with vacations was that when you were on vacation, you weren't working.
"That's the point, Meryl," Millie had told her. "You need to stop working and just enjoy yourself."
And that was that. They had taken a vacation. But it hadn't stopped Meryl from finding something else to work on. Anything to distract herself from… Well, she didn't suppose that mattered anymore.
Meryl moved out to the backyard and sat down on the porch steps, surveying the garden. They would have to relocate the leafy vegetables; they were suffering in the intense sunlight, in spite of the health of the Geoplant and the amount of water they were given. Usually they were fine for a while, but it seemed that they needed to rotate the plants a little.
A loud scream split the air of the garden, and Meryl nearly fell off the porch. She stood up and stared out across the farm, listening carefully. The scream sounded again, and she broke into a run, following the middle path and listening for the source of the scream.
As she neared it, she heard several more squeals, and as she burst past the grapevines, she found several children running back and forth across the grass underneath the apple tree, ducking between the trees in the orchard and hiding behind some of the lattice vine walls, their feet showing underneath. There was another loud scream, and Meryl jumped as a little girl came running down the right row of trees, closely followed by Vash, who was jogging with exaggerated movements.
"Get back here, yoooooouu!" he shouted after her, and the girl squealed and put on a burst of speed.
Meryl relaxed for a moment, relieved that nothing was really wrong, but then she stiffened again and clenched her fists. Yes, there was something wrong – a grown man was being a no-good layabout, playing with children. Again. What the hell was wrong with him?
"Vash!" she shouted, and he tripped over his own feet in surprise, falling on his face. The children giggled and some of them popped their heads out from between the plants to watch him. A boy swing down from a tree branch, hanging from his knees.
"Hiya, Meryl," said the boy, waving upside down. "We're playing keep away."
"Get down from there, Jorge," said Meryl, shaking her head. "Does your mother know you're here?"
Jorge flipped around and landed on his feet. "Yes," he said, obstinately. "Uncle Bennie said we could play here while he was gone. He said Mr. Vash would be the responsible adult for us."
"Responsible adult indeed," snorted Meryl, walking over to Vash, who was just sitting up with a pout. "What are you doing out here?" she demanded. "I can't believe you still play with children like this."
Vash's pout deepened. "But Meryl," he whined, drawing out her name, "I'm teaching them important, valuable lessons about love and peace."
Meryl raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Like what?"
"Like – " and suddenly he lunged to the side and there was a squeal, and the next thing Meryl knew, Vash was tickling the little girl that had been running from him earlier.
"Like don't take people's things or you'll get tickled!" he said loudly, laughing manically. The little girl squealed with laughter, and he stopped tickling her, staring her down seriously.
"Now," he said with a dramatic pause, "where is it?"
"I'm not telling," the girl singsonged. She wriggled out of his grasp and ran away, and Vash sat back on the grass and sighed.
"Vash," said Meryl warningly. "What are you doing?"
He pouted again. "It's not my fault, Meryl," he complained. "They took my boot." He pointed to his foot, and Meryl could see that it was bare. His other foot still had a sock on, but it was also missing a boot. Meryl wondered how the children had gotten his boots off in the first place.
"What about the other one?" she asked.
"Oh, they took that one, too," he said in a reassuring voice, as if that was supposed to make her feel better. "But I know where that one is." He pointed up, and Meryl saw his other boots, hanging from the apple tree by a string.
Meryl smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. "Don't you have more important things to do than play with children?" she hissed.
Vash stood up, brushing himself off. He was wearing his red coat, which he had abandoned during dinner last night. She had always thought it looked rather warm, so she never understood why he insisted on wearing it.
"I disagree," he said, bringing her back to the moment. "I think playing with children is very important."
He sounded so earnest that Meryl could not argue with him. She supposed that was true, in some ways, but it was still strange for her to see a man like Vash acting like a child himself. She knew what he was capable of, how serious he could be, how long he'd been alive, and yet he always managed to surprise her.
"Hey Vash!" Vash and Meryl looked over and saw that Jorge was holding Vash's boot above his head. He had several children standing behind him, and they all looked like a gang, grouped together like that. "Love and Peace!" he shouted, chucking the boot as hard as he could toward Vash, who caught it with his face. Vash fell backwards, and the children screamed with glee, scattering around the tree.
Meryl sighed and stood over Vash. "You are so strange," she said, shaking her head.
"Yeah, but you knew that already," he said, his voice muffled by the boot. He sat up, and the boot fell off his face into his lap. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek from where the boot had hit. He stuck his hand in his boot, felt around, and frowned. "Hey," he called to the children, "where's my other sock?"
"We hid it," a girl singsonged.
"Caleb has it!" said another girl.
"Traitor!" shouted Caleb, taking off down the left path. Meryl could see that one of his feet was bare, but on the other was a sock that was much too large for his foot.
Vash stood up and took a racing stance, low to the ground. Some of the children cheered, and a few began to count down. Jorge raised his hand.
"On your mark, get set…" Jorge sliced the air with his hand. "GO!"
Vash pushed off, and it probably would have been a great start if Meryl had not grabbed his collar at the last minute, holding him back. She wasn't strong enough to completely stop him, and when he fell forward, his momentum and weight dragged her down with him.
The children booed and laughed. Meryl sat up and put her hands on her hips.
"Listen Vash," she said, "we have some work to do around the farm, and if you're going to stay here, you need to help out. You can't just loaf around with the kids all day."
"Okay, okay," he said, his voice muffled in the grass. "But first…"
"What?" she snapped.
"First, you need to get off me."
Meryl looked down and saw that she was sitting right on top of him. She cried out and tumbled off, and Vash pushed himself up with a sigh.
"What kind of chores, anyway?" he asked with a whine. "Uncle Bennie said we were all done for the day."
"We?" asked Meryl skeptically.
"Yeah," said Vash, grinning. A small boy ran over and jumped on his back, and Vash grunted, but obligingly reached around to support the boy's legs in piggyback position. "The kids helped out this morning while you were asleep."
"We helped, we helped!" said a little girl, tugging at Meryl's shirt. The children had all regrouped under the tree, even the boy who had taken Vash's sock.
She smiled softly. She didn't really want children, but it was nice to see that Vash was really great with them. She shook herself, startled at the thought. How were those things even connected?
"All right," Vash was saying to the kids, "it's time to go."
"Aww, but Uncle Vash," the children whined.
"We didn't get to play with your gun yet!" complained Jorge. Meryl stiffened, but Vash only laughed.
"Guns aren't toys," he said. "They're weapons."
"Have you ever killed anyone, Uncle Vash?" asked a girl with wide eyes.
Vash rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… No," he lied.
"Lame," said Caleb, rolling his eyes and handing Vash his sock. "You're so uncool."
"Uncool! Uncool!" said the little girl standing at Meryl's hip.
They rounded up all the kids and sent them home. Jorge and Caleb were the last to go, and they waved at Vash energetically, in spite of all the running they had done.
"Bye Vash!" shouted Caleb.
"Next time we'll work on getting you a girlfriend," said Jorge.
"Excellent, Captain!" said Vash, giving a thumbs up.
Meryl sighed. Things had really come full circle almost, hadn't they? It was just an ordinary day. "Well, I have some shopping to do," said Meryl, "so I guess I'll just go, if there's nothing left to do here."
"Great!" said Vash, walking toward the farm again. "I'll come with you."
"Where are you going?" she asked, following him down the left path. He led the way to the apple tree and pointed up.
"My boot is still up there," he said, pointing to said boot, which was still hanging from the branch. He walked over to the tree trunk. "And you were right; the grass is really soft."
"How did they get your boots off, anyway?" asked Meryl, exasperated.
Vash laughed nervously. "Well, those kids know quite a lot about torture," he said.
"They tickled you?"
"Uh-huh." And then, suddenly, he jumped up and scampered up the tree trunk until he could reach a bottom branch. Vash swung himself up, hooking his legs around the branch, and then crawled along it to reach the boot. He sat on the branch and undid the knot on the string, then swung one of his legs over the branch so his legs were on the same side and fell backwards. Meryl shrieked, but Vash flipped around easily and landed on his feet. He looked over his shoulder at her.
"What?" he asked.
Meryl put her hand to her chest. "Jeez… Jorge did that, too. You should really be more careful."
Vash tapped her on the head with the top of his boot. "You only fear what you've never tried," he said with a smile. "It's actually really easy. You wanna learn?"
Meryl crossed her arms. "No way. I'll keep my feet on the ground."
"Aww, what? You mean you don't like climbing trees?" He pulled his socks and boots on, and began to buckle them up.
"We didn't have any trees where I grew up. I never learned how."
Vash grinned. "Well, now's a good a time as any to start." He started toward her, and Meryl backed away.
"N-no, not now," she said. "I have to pick up some stuff from the store, and then after that, I really need to do laundry and – "
Vash sighed. "Okay, okay, not now. But while you're here, you should try it." He winked at her. "It's fun."
Meryl glared at him. "Right."
Vash's idea of fun wasn't usually Meryl's cup of tea.
Vash followed Meryl into town and ended up carrying all of her bags as she ran her errands.
"Man, what are you even getting?" he complained. "Didn't you just go shopping yesterday?"
"That was Millie's shopping," she said. "I need some… personal things."
"Personal things?" muttered Vash doubtfully. He had the feeling that she just wanted to punish him by making him carry everything.
So far they had stopped by a dry cleaner's for three outfits, a technology shop for some repaired microphones, a shoe store for three pairs of the same boots, the post office where she picked up four packages, and a drug store where she bought shampoo and soap. And she made him carry it all.
"Women and their shopping…" he muttered.
"Quit complaining," Meryl snapped. "You're going to like the next stop, anyway."
"What is it, another shoe store?"
She smacked his arm, making him drop the packages from the post office. After he managed to rebalance them with everything else, Meryl continued on down the street and only stopped once they were in front of a gun store.
"Oh!" she said, stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into her and dropped everything again. She whirled around to face him. "Remind me to give you something when we get back," she said.
"What is it?"
"A surprise. I just remembered because of this shop."
That didn't sound very promising. Was she going to shoot him? Vash grimaced as Meryl went into the shop, the bell ringing over her head, but he followed her in.
The strong scent of gunpowder pressed on his nose as he walked in. The shop was small and dark, like most gun shops, because the walls and windows were completely covered by gun models. Vash put the packages down on the floor, trying to keep them all together in one pile near the front counter, and looked around. There wasn't a large variety in the shop, but there were a lot of the models that they did have. Vash could see several hundred Derringers hanging from the wall, of all colors. There were even pink and neon green Derringers, which Vash thought was kind of silly. Because they were meant to be concealed, Derringers weren't supposed to be in bright colors. Well, guns in general weren't supposed to be in bright colors.
Meryl walked up to the counter and pressed a bell. She glanced over her shoulder at Vash, who was examining the other models on the wall now. There were subautomatics, like the one in his arm, but also full-on automatic machine guns, which were placed – apparently for size juxtaposition purposes – right next to the Derringers. It made Vash wonder if they were compensating for something, but he stopped when he realized that he had a subautomatic about a third larger than the ones on that wall, and his revolver was anything but small. He found himself laughing a little nervously aloud, and Meryl turned to lean on the counter.
"Told you you'd like this place better than the drugstore," she said.
"It smelled like strong perfume in there," he complained. He sniffed the air. "It smells like gunpowder in here."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," said Meryl, rolling her eyes. "It smells like you."
"You're welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm," he replied, and then stopped and blinked at her. "Wait… It smells like me?"
She jumped, flushed, and turned around to face the counter again, and Vash watched her, confused. He knew he smelled like gunpowder – it was unavoidable in his line of work (outlaw) – but he didn't think she would notice something like that.
Finally, someone came through the back door. The man wiped his hands on his apron, leaving black smears, and smiled at Meryl.
"How can I help you today, Miss Meryl?" he said. "I'm not quite finished with the repairs on your Derringers. So many of them," he commented.
"That's all right," said Meryl. "I came by for something else. I need some of these," she said, pointing down through the glass counter at a box of bullets.
"You own a shotgun?" asked Vash, peeking over her shoulder.
Meryl jumped again and whirled around.
"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she said with an annoyed glare. Vash waved his hands on front of her in surrender.
"You a friend of Miss Meryl's?" asked the man behind the counter. "I saw you checking out the subautomatics. You interested?"
"No, that's okay," said Vash quickly, with a smile. "I already have one."
"Yeah? Does it need a tune-up?"
Technically, it did, but this was not the place to get it done. "No, it works fine," Vash lied, laughing. "It practically sings."
"As long as you don't," muttered Meryl, pulling out some bills to pay for the box. Vash only laughed again, and the man behind the counter looked between Vash and Meryl with a meaningful glance that made Vash confused and seemed to make Meryl angry.
"Thank you," she snapped, swiping the box from the counter.
The man laughed. "You're welcome," he said. "Have a nice day."
"You too," she said, evidently trying to sound more pleasant. She stalked out of the shop, and Vash began to follow her until he remembered that he was carrying all the bags. He spun back around and gathered up all the packages quickly, shooting the man a grin. He grinned back.
"You be nice to Miss Meryl, now, you hear?" he said.
Vash frowned, confused. "Um… yeah," he said, backing out of the shop.
Once he was outside, he turned back around and looked for Meryl. She was standing on the sidewalk, tapping her foot and watching the door, and when he came through, she sighed and started to walk away.
"So who is that for?" he asked, indicating the box of bullets in the bag she was carrying. He was relieved that she didn't make him carry it; his arms were starting to get tired, and that was saying something. Who would have guessed that it would be shopping with women, not lifting Wolfwood's Punisher or pieces of ceiling that had fallen on him, that would make his arms sore?
"A friend," she said through her teeth, and Vash had the feeling he shouldn't pry into it. They walked in silence for a while until Meryl spoke again. "Your arm is a subautomatic, isn't it?" she said.
"Huh? Oh." Vash shifted his arm a little to keep one of the packages from falling. "Yeah."
"How did that happen?"
Vash pretended to misunderstand. "Well, it was a semiautomatic pistol before, but then I messed it up and – "
"No, I mean, how did you lose the arm in the first place?"
Vash made a face. "…It's private," he said crossly.
Meryl swung her bag of bullets around and smacked his arm again, and Vash cried out and dropped everything.
"Don't give me that!" she said, glaring at him. Some people on the street stopped to stare at them. "You promised!"
Vash looked around the street nervously. "Yeah, but my history with promises isn't exactly good."
She swung the bag around again, this time aiming for his head, but he ducked just in time and started to gather the goods that had spilled out of the bags.
"Okay, okay," he said, before she could take another swing at him. "I'll tell you. Just stop attracting attention," he added with a hiss.
She threw her bag over her shoulder and looked down at him with a stern expression, a hand on her hip. "Whatever," she said. "Just hurry up. We have two more stops."
"Two?" he complained. Meryl rolled her eyes and turned around, beginning to walk away from him. He gathered the bags and jogged after her until they were walking together again.
"So?" she said after a while.
"Oh," he said, frowning. "Right…" He shifted the bags again, stalling, but soon he couldn't stall anymore. "Are you sure you – ?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "I don't care how gruesome you think it is, I want to know."
He wondered for a moment if he should lie, but he felt guilty just thinking about lying. Telling Meryl the truth was turning out to be difficult. Why had he agreed to this?
Vash sighed and decided to just get it over with. "Knives cut it off," he said quickly.
Meryl stopped abruptly, and Vash kept walking, gritting his teeth, but when he didn't hear her resume her walk, he had to turn around. She was standing several paces behind him, shocked, but her eyes were full of pity.
"See, I warned you that you wouldn't want to know," he growled.
She shook herself and glared at him. "No, you didn't," she argued. "You just asked me if I was sure. And I was. I am." She closed her eyes and marched haughtily toward him, but stopped in a few short paces and looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry."
Vash blinked. "Why?"
"It's hard for you to talk about this stuff," she said. "I realize that. I guess I'm just being selfish."
Vash frowned. "Yes, you are."
Her head snapped up and she glared at him, opening her mouth to argue, but he interrupted her.
"But I guess I was being selfish for a while, too, so we'll call it even," he said. He shifted the packages to one arm and held out his hand for Meryl to shake. "Truce?"
She stared at him for a moment, and then looked down at his hand. She sighed, smiling, and took his hand.
"Okay, truce."
"Well, isn't this precious?"
Meryl stiffened at the high-pitched voice with the strange accent, but Vash didn't recognize it until he turned and saw its owner.
A blonde woman in a black suit looked on at them haughtily, her hands on her hips. Standing behind her was a gargantuan woman with a protruding forehead, wearing the same outfit but a dull expression. The giant woman was carrying a giant camera on her shoulder. The camera was embossed with a shiny No-Man's Land Broadcasting sticker.
"AHA HA HA HA HA!" laughed the blonde woman. "We've found you at last, Vash the Stampede!"
Some people on the street stopped to stare, looking between Vash and the blonde woman. "What a freak show," someone muttered, continuing past the scene.
"We've been looking all over for you," continued the blonde woman. "We know who you are, but maybe you're not aware of us. We are Marilyn Nebraska & Co.!" She laughed haughtily again, and then pointed a finger at Vash. "You," she accused, "put my daddy and brother in jail, and since then we've been working hard to get money for their bail! When we heard about this job, we couldn't resist."
"What job?" asked Vash, dreading the answer he had read on the camera's side.
Marilyn Nebraska spun around, swinging two microphones from their cables that were attached somewhere inside her suit jacket. She stopped and struck a pose, speaking into one microphone and holding out the other toward Vash. Her mother let out a high-pitched moan and crouched down to point the camera at Vash.
"We're new correspondents for No-Man's Land Broadcasting, and you're our target interviewee!" said Marilyn dramatically.
Vash slumped forward, not believing his incredibly bad luck. "Why are you posing?" he muttered. "Aren't you supposed to be the one behind the camera?"
"Oh ho ho!" laughed Marilyn. "Everyone knows that every news story does better when there's a charismatic reporter." She posed again, winking. "Did you get that, Mother?" Patricia Nebraska grunted and turned on the camera, and Vash didn't waste a second. He sprinted away, but he didn't get very far. Something hit him, hard, from behind, and he fell forward onto his face. When he pushed himself up, he saw that the giant Nebraska woman had thrown one of her sons at him.
"Nice going, Mother!" Marilyn said loudly, with another haughty laugh.
"Gah! Will people stop doing that?" Vash complained. He was tired of his sprints being abruptly interrupted. When he wanted to run away, people should just let him, damn it.
"There's no way we're letting you get away, Vash the Stampede," said Marilyn. "As of this moment, we've sworn to track you down and interview you."
"You just decided this?" yelled Vash, in disbelief.
Marilyn laughed again, and it was really getting on his nerves. Vash glanced over at Meryl, and apparently it was getting on hers, too. He could practically see the vein in her temple.
"Others before us have failed," Marilyn went on, "but we won't rest until we capture you – on film!" Patricia lowered the camera from her shoulder again, and Vash started to turn, but this time Meryl stopped him.
"Wait just a second," she said indignantly, and Vash fell again, surprised that she had spoken. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Well, we were on assignment to cover the vacation spots here in New Miami," explained Marilyn, "but when we saw Vash the Stampede, we couldn't pass up the opportunity."
"So you mean you're not even assigned to him?" Meryl said, irate.
"It doesn't matter," said Marilyn, shrugging with her hands on her waist. "Any news story is better than no news story at all."
"You can't just run around interviewing people off assignment!" Meryl yelled. "We are covering the Stampede story."
Vash slouched forward again. "Seriously?" he whined.
The two women ignored him and glared at each other.
"We?" asked Marilyn derisively. "Who is 'we'?"
"Me and Meryl, of course," said Millie, and Meryl and Vash jumped and whirled around to see her standing behind them with Uncle Bennie. She had pulled out her own camera and held it high on her shoulder. "No one jumps in on our target," she added warningly.
"Oh yeah?" growled Marilyn, gripping her microphones. "Who's going to stop us?"
"We are," said Meryl and Millie together. Meryl pulled out her own microphones and took a battle stance. With the four women glaring at each other the way they were, Vash thought there might be a firefight, if it weren't for the recording equipment. At least they had forgotten about him, for the moment. He took a few slow steps backwards, ready to escape, but he ran into someone and turned around to see Uncle Bennie standing right behind him.
"This is exciting, isn't it?" said Uncle Bennie with a genial smile.
"Yeah, great, paparazzi fight, yeah," said Vash, laughing nervously.
"He's our target!" argued Meryl. "Go find another story!"
"Yeah," Millie said, "unless you want a stun gun to the face!" She quickly replaced her camera with her stun gun, faster than Vash would expect, and Meryl jumped to push the stun gun down.
"No, Millie! That's not necessary!"
"Is that a threat?" said Marilyn, glaring. She threw her arm around and pointed a finger toward Meryl and Millie. "Get 'em, Mother!"
Patricia reached around, picked up one of her sons, and pulled her arm back to throw him. Vash quickly pulled his gun out of the holster at his hip, but a shot fired before Patricia could even let go of her son. She dropped him with a howl, and the man curled up in a ball howled too. Vash could see that he had been shot in the joint that attached his shell to his back, but he had no idea where the shot could have come from.
"No!" cried Marilyn. "Chinpei!"
Vash searched for the source of the shot, and he saw Meryl stiffen. He glanced in the direction she was looking and saw a man in a ten gallon hat standing about a block away. He was holding a double-barrel shotgun, the end of which was smoking lightly. He tipped his hat in Meryl's direction, and Meryl clenched her fists and growled.
"You'll pay for that!" cried Marilyn, spinning to face the man and pointing a microphone toward him.
The man raised the shotgun again and shot, but this time it went through the camera lens. The camera sparked a little and then died, and Marilyn moaned.
"Oh, look what you've done!"
The man took a few slow steps forward and then raised his head.
Then he grinned and waved to Meryl foolishly.
"Howdy Meryl!" he called.
Meryl growled again. "That's Miss Stryfe, to you!" she yelled, shaking her fist at him.
"Looks like I've saved you again, Meryl," the man said, laughing, apparently not hearing Meryl. "Now," he continued, turning to the Nebraskas with a serious expression, "if you'll kindly move along and stop botherin' Meryl here, I'd be mighty gratitudinous." He said this as he raised his shotgun again, very slowly.
"Violence isn't necessary, you meathead," Meryl hissed.
"I saw what was goin' on – that giant woman was throwin' her bowlin' balls at ya," said the man, pointing at Chinpei, who was still lying on the ground in pain.
"Those aren't bowling balls!" screamed Marilyn. "Those are my brothers!" She turned on her heel to face Meryl and Millie again. "You may have won this time," she said, raising a finger threateningly, "but next time, we will succeed in grabbing an interview!" She turned and the entire Nebraska family ran away, Patricia's large feet pounding the ground into shaking.
"Well, that didn't make any sense," said Vash, still slouching.
"When has the Nebraska family ever made any sense?" said Meryl, rubbing her temples.
"Well, Meryl, it looks like you owe me one again," said the man in the ten gallon hat, strolling over. "Whaddaya say? How about a drink?" He winked at her with a winning smile.
"No way," said Meryl, crossing her arms and looking away from him. "Not in a million years."
"Well let me take you out to dinner," the man said.
"Are you even listening?" she hissed.
"Hey, Millie," Vash whispered. "Who is this guy?"
"This is Mr. Ty Heckel," she said. "He works at the ranch where we left our Thomases."
"And who are you?" demanded Heckel, apparently overhearing. He pointed a finger at Vash and glared. "You're not bothering Meryl, too, are you?"
"That's Miss Stryfe to you," growled Meryl again, but Heckel ignored her.
"Who, me?" said Vash. He forced a laugh. "I'm just a drifter."
"Mr. Vash is our friend," said Millie brightly. "He's staying with us while he's in town."
Heckel stumbled backwards in surprise. "Staying with you?" he said. He glanced at Meryl, who was still refusing to look at him. He glanced back at Vash, who, confused, raised a hand and waved. Heckel's face screwed up, and he seemed to struggle with something for a moment, and then he pointed a finger at Vash again. "I challenge you, sir!" he shouted.
"Huh?" said Vash, Meryl, and Millie at the same time.
"I'm not going to give up my woman to just any loser!" exclaimed Heckel.
"I'm not yours!" Meryl yelled, throwing her hands up. She growled and stomped over to him, swinging her shopping bag around and whacking Heckel on the head with it. He grunted in pain and took a step backwards.
"Here!" said Meryl, jabbing a finger at Heckel. "There's your damn payback. Now leave me alone."
Heckel reached up, took the bag off his head, and examined the contents. He pulled out the box of shotgun bullets in surprise.
"What's this?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Payback," she repeated. "You said that I owed you some bullets, so here you go. Now we're even, so you can stop bothering me."
He blinked up at her and then frowned. "I didn't mean it that way," he said. "I said, 'Now you have to pay me back for all those bullets I used.' I meant you should let me take you out."
"Well, I'm not interested," Meryl hissed. She turned on her heel and stomped back over to Vash, Millie, and Uncle Bennie. "Come on, let's go."
"Wait!" called Heckel, straightening up and still holding the box of bullets. He glanced at Vash and then back at Meryl. "You can't seriously be telling me," he said slowly, through his teeth, "that you prefer this loser."
Meryl shook with anger, and Vash thought about reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but he was afraid she might bite it off, and he needed that hand. He only had so many to spare.
Meryl took a few steps forward and whacked Heckel with another bag that she had apparently picked up. "I don't prefer anyone, you idiot," shouted Meryl. "Get it through your meatheaded head! Now stop bothering me!" She stomped back to the group again and then past them, blushing furiously.
"Come on, Mr. Vash," said Millie, taking Vash's arm again. "I'll help you with those bags."
"Wait," said Heckel again, "Vash… You mean like… Vash the Stampede."
They all looked over their shoulders at Heckel, then glanced at each other and nodded.
"That's the one," said Uncle Bennie.
Heckel gave Vash a terrified glance, and then turned tail and sprinted away.
Note: Well! That was silly. I'm sorry it took a while to post these chapters. I was trying to cut some stuff, but it was just way too fun. I guess this is why anime has so much filler...
I promise more important stuff is coming up. I promise. :)
2012-09-17