Disclaimer: Trigun and Trigun Maximum belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow.
A/N: In this episode, the narration was changed to third person viewpoint in Chronica's POV.
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After The End of All
Part 11
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"Ah. You're up. About time."
Chronica forced her muddled mind to work.
The sound of engines running, of metals banging onto metals, pierced through her ears. The siren was blaring onto her eardrums, warning her that something had indeed gone wrong. Except for the miniscule glow from the monitors, the lighting was so dim, she could barely see anything; except for the door, from which light flooded into the containment.
She groaned and shakily pushed herself off the cold floor, cradling her head as she slowly rose; vaguely pondering on how everything had came to this.
She had never expected to wind up like she was now.
But she wasn't concentrating on her surrounding, nor herself. Her eyes were strained on the person shadowing the entryway; on that one face that she has grown attached to. To trust.
Maybe even love.
Knives smirked down at her.
"Do you really think that I would ever give my brother to those incompetent humans, now do you?"
Chronica looked up into his eyes, horrified.
She was absolutely terrified of delving into those cold blue depths, so foreign to her. Engulfing her.
"A fool. Just like all of them."
The noises were getting more distant. Those eyes were slowly, slowly, blocked away from her view by the large metal door.
Oh, god.
----------------
((10 HOURS, 20 MINUTES, AND 44 SECONDS BEFORE THE EVENT))
"Sleep tight now, both of you."
The replies that she got was a bouncy "Good night to you too, Chronica-san!" and a grumpy "Yeah, yeah. Now go away."
Anyone could easily figure out who said what.
Walking down the empty, cold corridor of her current workplace –too empty, too cold– she let her thoughts wander to the interesting two brothers she was designated to baby-sit for the past year.
They had just shared dinner in Vash's room, just like any other nights. Knives, as always, was acting more of the overprotective big brother –self-acclaimed, that is, as none of the two really knew who the elder was; Vash merrily told her as Knives hollered 'Oi, Vashu! Why did you have to tell that to her!?' as he literally stomped his way into the room from his short visit to the loo– and didn't let Vash feed himself, adamant about Vash needing to rest more and move less. Vash was, in the other hand, insisted that he could do everything on his own, and he should at least do the minuscule exercise of feeding himself. Granted, it has been more than seven weeks since Vash woke up from his coma and was doing well with his physical therapy. Of course Knives would be there to help him out, not missing a beat at assisting his brother. But, when he was in bed, his brother wouldn't let him lift a finger, not even moving his arm to do the vital biological works of eating.
Thus, they ended up arguing.
Every single time.
And not only that. They also argue about the weirdest things. Such as: the limit Knives set on how high Vash should lift his arm, or the fact that Knives brought his bed into Vash's room, or what type of soap Vash should be using, or Knives' strange fixation on red wines, or why Vash's shirt should be the color of bottle green rather than crimson red, or why-in-holy-spaceships-and-space did Knives insisted that they should even bathe together. Such stubborn brothers; to be at loggerheads about such ridiculous matters.
As an observer of their tireless tirade, I could understand that Knives was just being the overprotective brother of an unwell Vash. Though, he may have taken his obsession on perfection at everything he does a little bit further with the must-bathe-together issue.
Still, those moments were hilarious to witness, to say the least.
She smiled in her reminiscence.
Ten minutes into ambling down the various corridors, simply by instincts as she has been walking to and fro Vash's room for the past two months, Chronica stopped dead in her track when she realized that she walked past her the door of her room. Again.
How thinking of those two made her forget about everything else...
Chronica sighed as she smiled. If one looked closely, anyone could witness the pure, honest bond between them.
Knives was genuinely concerned for his brother. Half a year of agonizing; half a lifetime of waiting; a whole life worth of redemption. He was going to pay them back to Vash, a hundred fold. He pampered him, keeping Vash warm with layers and layers of blankets, helped him through all those rehabilitation and treatments; giving his all into loving him again.
Vash was faintly reluctant to be smothered by his brother's overassertive care; insisted that he could take care of himself. But he was very happy to be receiving every bit of that love, nonetheless. And he replied by relenting to those pampering, letting Knives smother him with the not-so-comfy blankets, and help him; even when his pride and lips said no. He even let Knives sleep in his bed, even with a second bed just three feet away from his.
This love between siblings does root much deeper than anyone could imagine...
Punching in her identification code, her door opened up to a cozily large room, lightly furnished with a king-sized bed at a side and wall-attached desks with a complementary chair. Two doors could be seen: one would lead to an attached bathroom and the other was a walk-in closet. The room was sparsely adorned with few belongings that consisted of reading books and small trinkets; a star-adorned mug that Domina gave to her as her 150th birthday present, a Thank-You card colored and signed by Vash –and much to her amusement, Knives also left a hasty signature on a small corner of the card, right under Vash's– and other little items that were miniscule to others but held so much importance to her. But her favorite about her room have to be the full-sized window with the expanse of the room's whole length; opening up her room to the excellent view of the universe. She loved it. She could easily unwind in her room while silently watch the twinkling silver dots of far away stars.
But she knew that she was undeniably growing more and more attached to Vash –and Knives'– small, windowless room...
LOG ENTRY (Stardate Year 0021. February 13th. 22:34:26.):
Yet another uneventful day. Knives was levelheaded as usual, and he proved by himself that he is able to care for another; at least his brother. He didn't show any signs of false camaraderie, thus I did not scan though his brainwaves; there was no need for me to peruse his thoughts. He may needs some counseling on temper management, but in overall, he shows excellent signs of possible redemption: he may be able to accept the human race. But this is only possible, as I stress again, that his brother were to be at his side all the time.
Vash is also healing well and showing signs of improving psychosomatic status. Vash's necessitate for the Gouhfon's bio-stabilizer has reduced by 86.45 since four weeks ago as his cells has adapted into self-regeneration. In general, he is improving well, both physically and psychologically.
A replacement Flow source for Vash is still undiscovered. None of the samples available on board synchronizes with his. He still needs his brother's Gate to keep alive. The leak on Knives' suppressor was, indeed, the best approach to Vash's predicament.
It is still too early for them to be separated, especially with Vash's unstable condition. But the decision of the Council is absolute.
Vash will be transported to Earth at 0900 tomorrow.
END OF LOG ENTRY (Stardate Year 0021. February 13th. 22:45:15.).
She didn't have the will to pack up.
With glazed eyes, Chronica looked on outside of her window at the silver dots she liked so much.
Ignoring the single silver droplet that fell onto her lap.
"Install this into your memory, Chronica. The decisions made by the Central Government's Council are absolute. They are the law. They are the basis that unified us all. You must never –I repeat, never– oppose them. Do you understand?"
Chronica clenched onto the pastel sheets of her bed, and closed her eyes in resignation.
The decision of the Council is absolute.
"I'm so sorry, Vash..."
More silver droplets fell through her long blond lashes onto the chalk-white of her blanket.
I'm so sorry...
Knives...
----------------
"Naa... I know that we're doing this for the best, but I still feel guilty though... What about Chronica-san?"
"Oh? So you'd rather be separated from me for all eternity?"
"Of-- of course not! But... Couldn't we at least talk to her? I mean, she's a Freeborn like us right? She'd understand, won't she..?"
"...your ability to trust others so easily never ceases to amaze me."
"Eh..?"
"..."
"...Knives?"
"Let's go, brother..."
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((04 HOURS, 07 MINUTES, AND 36SECONDS BEFORE THE EVENT))
She could not sleep.
Chronica has somehow stored away her meager, but precious belongings in a small duffle bag. Somehow.
The remnants of her tears were all but gone.
The stun gun was safely installed into her wristlet, ready to be used when needed.
She steeled herself and stepped out into the cold passageway
Leaving away a vacant room behind, forever.
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((01 HOURS, 59 MINUTES, AND 42 SECONDS BEFORE THE EVENT))
The transport shuttle was booted up and all set for departure at the given time. All the information regarding their unfinished research until now was loaded into the shuttle's virtual drives to be resumed by the scientists on Earth. The holding area –a familiar cold cylindrical vessel, has been readied for its previous inhabitant.
Chronica sat still in her seat of the archive, her gaze blank as the hologrammed monitors vanished one by one, until there was none left. The only light source inside the room was the luminous keyboards under her fingertips.
The preparation was complete.
Now, all she needed were the two brothers.
She could not delay the inevitable anymore.
She blearily stood up, her eyes focused on the keyboards. Then on one empty seat; customarily occupied by Knives, until his brother was out of his Convalescence Chamber.
"What will happen to me does not matter."
'...'
Maybe she should re-check the shuttle; make sure that it was in excellent working condition.
For a second time in one hour.
As she ambled her way to the docks, a shadowed figure looked on from a corner. When she had made a turn on the other end of the corridor, the figure sauntered to the archive door, vaguely taken aback when the door automatically opened.
"...This is way too easy. She should have locked this door, the very least."
The shadow sighed and walked in, letting the door shut close behind him.
Through the little pane of the door, the lights of the archive came back to life
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((01 HOURS, 05 MINUTES, AND 13 SECONDS BEFORE THE EVENT))
She stood, unmoving in front of the twins' room.
The brothers would definitely not want to be separated. Her years of training have prepared her for the worse case scenario. The trigger to the stun gun was readied under her pointer finger.
All she needed to do now was to walk past that door. Easy, right?
...no.
The hand that held the stun gun shook slightly. Cold sweat ran down her smooth brow. Her heartbeats became more erratic by the seconds.
"They are the law. They are the basisc that unified us all."
The decision of the Council is absolute.
Tightening the grip on her gun, collecting her thoughts together, and donning her friendliest –if not fake– expression, she took another step forward. The door opened automatically, as she spoke out, "Vash, good morning. Want to--"
"It's always Vash this, Vash that. Call out my name every now and then, would you?"
Before she had the time to look at the person behind her, in her shock, something small and sharp was swiftly embedded into the back of her neck, and a sensation of extreme drowsiness immediately consumed her. Her falling like deadweight onto the floor was broken halfway by a pair of strong arms, which immediately raised her up into a bridal lift.
"I'd be very envious if you kept saying his name all the time. Did you know that?"
Hazily perceiving a small smile on the face that had became so familiar to her, she lost consciousness.
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((17 MINUTES, AND 14 SECONDS BEFORE THE EVENT))
Knives smirked down at her.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead. I can see dark rings under your eyes. You didn't even sleep last night, did you? Is the prospect of executing your task today really that nerve-wrecking?"
He was coolly leaning onto on the door pane, arms crossed around his torso, shifting a little so that it would be easier for him to look at the outline of a person jerking and moving oh-so-slowly on the floor.
Chronica groaned as she tried to focus the gears in her brain into working. She dimly remembered her supposed mission of the day, up to walking into Vash's room.
Vash's empty room.
Then everything clicked together.
"Yeah. You got it right. We've found out about your plans."
With her eyes and body still heavy with lethargy, she forced herself sit up, and look directly at Knives.
"Do you really think that I would ever give my brother to those incompetent humans, now do you?"
She wished she hadn't.
She was absolutely terrified of delving into those cold blue depths, so foreign to her. Engulfing her.
"Heh..." The menacing chuckle vibrated throughout the transport shuttle. He held right hand up onto his face, covered his left eyes; and with his one exposed blue iris, he glowered darkly at her. "I've been keeping a close tab on your communication link to dear Mother Earth. It has been so for more than half a year, if you haven't realized it yet. The archive's systems are surprisingly easy to manipulate. And my, how well did it complied. Humans really don't know how to guard their information well."
He snickered lowly, then gradually louder and more sinister, his cruel laughter emanated throughout the transport ship.
Chronica shivered under sheer terror. 'I should have seen this!' she mulled over in her despair. Her grip on the cold floor surface was so tight, she could feel her nails tearing off the skin of her fingers as blood seeped down. She found herself not able to tear her eyes away from that cruel, cruel sapphire orb that was mocking her; making a fool of her. 'I should have...!'
She knew... She knew, deep in her torn soul, that she predicted this situation all along; but never had the audacity to acknowledge it...
To make the situation turn to her favor, she tried to trigger her mind-manipulating powers to work, but to no avail. 'He must have injected nano-suppressors along with the sedative--!' She struggle to stand, but the sedative ensured that she would not be able to move much of her body, least to stand up on her two feet. She winced when the laughter got louder by a few notches.
'That narcissist really does enjoy degrading me like this,' Chronica forlornly thought, feeling disgust not to him, but rather to herself, rose with the tone of his cackle.
As the laughter died out into low chuckles, he continued, "Hn. I was pleasantly amazed to find out that this ship was previously called Namdryphe--" Chronica's head snapped up. Knives' smirk widened even more. "Oh? It rung a bell? Of course it would. This was your precious key battleship of your much-loved Earthen fleet. And as icing on the cake..."
"The zero-range combat artillery was never removed."
Now sporting a feral grin, he seemed even more delighted with the growing apprehension on Chronica's face. "I came to understand that to protect its valuable 'cargos', as those pathetic humans have dubbed us all along, this ship was equipped with the state-of-the-art weaponry, including the Thor Hammer. Even without Plants to power it up to its full potential, it can still pack quite a punch. I would love to try it out..."
Her mind was blank. She had to do something to stop this maniac from taking over the ship, but that sole eye was pinning her down, rendering her body useless; unable to move.
The low tenor weighed down on her ears again, "You will never be able to get neither him, nor me. You were deemed to fail. Those ungrateful humans will never acknowledge the value of an Independent without a partner. You implied that yourself. Aside from being a tool to be exploited, when you fulfilled your function of being useful to them, they will deem you to be useless."
Useless.
"Those who are useless are trash. And trash deserves nothing more than to be thrown away."
Chronica quivered in her not-so-pleasing recollection. Ever since she was a small child, her instructors has planted those word into her consciousness, to a point where she absolutely despised being incompetent; even hated things that are incompetent. Forever living up to the Central Government's expectations. Independents without partners are basically restricted from any missions, but she'd never accept that. She'd do anything to at least contribute something for the good of the Central Government. Thus she volunteered for this mission; a very important operation of resurrecting a very important figure in the history of human kind. One that is crucial to the development of human kind.
Never wanted to be of no use.
"Your current mission is to resurrect 'him', and transport the 'cargos' safely back to Earth. Put into effect whatever options you must –revive his brother, disregard the rules, make up stories, or lie as much as you may, it would not matter; as long as you fulfill this holy task assigned to you by the Council."
One scornful voice silently plagued her thoughts.
"You will never be able to get neither him, nor me."
"When you fulfilled your function of being useful to them, they will deem you to be useless."
Useless.
Her soul shattered.
A warm droplet dripped onto the cold floor.
Another one accompanied it.
Knives' lone blue eye widened.
Before she realized it, a cold, yet warm finger was slowly tracing its way down her cheek; from the edge of her eyelashes to the dip of her chin, trailing its way along the damp path of a lost tear.
Knives was crouching in front of her. Touching her. Gazing at her with the warmest pair of pale sapphire orbs she'd ever seen.
As warm as Domina's...
She unconsciously leaned onto the finger.
"You poor soul," Knives mumbled. Either to himself or to her, Chronica would never know. "...always pushing yourself too hard. Always wanted to please those ignorant insects. Always alone..."
Not wanting to look at those serene azure depths as it was so full of merciless pity, she closed her eyes.
Only to feel the longed feeling of another's touch on her. To make it drive away her loneliness. Not caring if it belonged to a person that she should be despising.
How she has felt lonesome all this time...
His hand now cupping her crying face, his voice timbre, uncharacteristically kind, "Vash has taken a liking to you. He really wanted you to not leave us. To be here, with us, like you have always been. But it can never be. I really can't share him with anyone. Nor could I trust you. Not yet."
"Even though you are also a Free-Born, an Independent, you have always been dependent on the humans. Always needing their approval. Always need to prove to yourself that you can be of use to them. Always protecting them."
A sigh.
"Just like how my brother was."
A gentle wipe of a thumb just underneath her eye.
"A fool. Just like all of them."
A soft chuckle.
"I wonder if you could ever let go of your past, just like he did."
From where he touched her with his fingertips, memories –Knives' memories– came flooding ruthlessly gushing into her vision---
"... nee, Knives..?"
"Yeah..?"
I stroked through the soft strands of his hair, calming him down. Vash was laid on his side on the withering flowers and dying lands, my lap as his pillow, finally calming down and letting me be by his side.
No longer pushing me away.
"... everything you told me... about the abuse a-and killings... the h-humans... put on Plants... on u-us... it's true, isn't it..?"
Vash's voice, punctuated with little sobs here and there, was layered with disbelief and grief.
"Aaaa..." was my only answer.
Vash's fingers were playing with a browning petal of geranium, as I looked on, my own fingers slowly skirting through his hair still.
Vash opened his cracked lips, and he croaked out in sadness, "I remember... I swore to myself... that one day... I will ... save all of our kin... Promised... Rem... Tried to reason out... with them... Tried so much, for so long..."
He clenched tightly onto that lone petal, and then opened his palm.
"... I couldn't go on... like this... anymore..."
The dried petal was crushed; only a lump of powder left, drifting away little by little by the turbulent winds.
Just like his dream –Rem's dream– and his... her ideal world, where humans and Plants could at last live together symbiotically, with respect of each other...
Now in ruins.
"...no more... No more... would I tolerate them... No more... would I trust their... R-Rem's words... ever... ever... again..."
My other hand held onto his trembling one, wordlessly conveying to him that he could put his trust in me. He gripped onto my hand, like I was his only lifeline in his world of hurt and distress.
Then, came the words I was waiting for.
"I will forgive them no more."
A single, lone tear followed that sorrowful, but determined, declaration.
The last one he would shed for humanity.
Her dreamlike state didn't last long.
The memories were suddenly cut off as the warm hand was replaced by cold air. A click, and her armlet –which she dimly recognized to be the one served as the main control unit of Namdryphe– was taken from her, and subtle thumps of rubber on steel slowly moving away from her.
Another click, and she heard his voice again, "Aaaah... This feels muuuuch better. For the love of god that is Me, I am never going to wear a suppressor. Ever. Not even if Vash begged me to. Oi, Vash, can you hear me?"
A slight shrill, and another voice resounded throughout the small ship, "Loud and clear. I have disconnected the servers, and cleaned the transport shuttle's virtual memory; just like you instructed. Were you talking to yourself again? What is it about you and the god-and-me-begging-you thing?"
Knives only reply was a grunt.
Silence. And then, "...How is she..?"
Her eyes wavered as she opened them, stinging with unshed tears.
Knives spared her a lingering side-glance, messed up his slightly longer hair, which he kept adequately smart from Vash's insistence as of late, and nonchalantly said, "She'd live," then proceeded to walk his way out of the door.
An indignant huff. "You better not bully her."
"I didn't."
"I don't believe you."
And a sigh. "... Fine. Maybe just a little. Just a little, okay?"
Silence again. And another crackle of the speakers.
"...I'm sorry, Chronica-san."
She lifted her head, ever so slightly, at the mention of her name.
"For the better good, we had to let you go. But, remember that you were part of us. Of our family. And you still are. I have truly enjoyed the time we spent together. And so did Knives, even if he would never admit it."
"Stop speaking nonsense, Vash."
Chronica impassively stared at the retreating back of the partly-black-haired blond. As if feeling her eyes upon him, Knives glanced over his shoulder. Staring back at her; those eyes smoldering with incomprehensible emotions. When he was out of the transport pod, he turned around and leaned onto the entrance's outer panels, a small smile gracing his lips, those deep, azure depths locked with her emerald ones.
"I look forward to the day when you'd return to us."
The noises were getting more distant. Those eyes were slowly, slowly, blocked away from her view by the large metal door.
Until she could not see any light coming through the entrance. Not anymore.
She closed her eyes again. A fresh flow of tears cascaded down the curves of her cheeks.
((00:00:00 : LIFT-OFF))
The engines of the transport ship roared, and in a few moments later, she knew that she'd be lifted out of Namdryphe, into space, and into hyper-drive through the galaxy on its one-way road back to Earth.
She didn't care what will happen anymore.
Oh, God...
She understood... that after this, she could never turn back time.
Please guide me through this pain...
That she could never be the same, ever again...
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((Stardate Year 0034. May 7th. 15:06:38.))
"EMERGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL BATTLE FLEETS! EMERGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL BATTLE FLEETS!"
"THE SERAPH HAS MADE ITS WAY THROUGH FAFNER'S SECOND BARRIER! ATTENTION! THE SERAPH HAD MADE ITS WAY THROUGH FAFNER'S SECOND BARRIER, AND IS CURRENTLY HEADING STRAIGHT TO ALVIS' MAIN CONTROL CENTRE! PREPARE FOR COMBAT!"
A figure, so much like a woman's, sat up from her previously half-sleeping state on her bunker-sized bed, wrapping a pastel-colored blanket over her body, groaning inwardly.
The sirens were stinging into her ears. The sounds of people rushing around all over the place and rumblings of powerful weaponry were reverberating in the cold and the ever lightly stuffy air; they gave her quite a headache.
Especially when she was contained in a Level-ZERO, Class-F solitary confinement, which has been absolutely quiet for the whole span of time she has been there.
"You are found to be in suspicion for the first-degree crime of treachery and collaborating with the highly dangerous terrorist, Millions Knives. You are to be confined in the highest-security imprisonment, VSX-01, until further notice. You must again pledge your..."
Her eyes unseeing as they read through her punishments.
Thirteen years has passed by since that time.
She understood her predicament. Coming back empty-handed, without even a single byte of data in the virtual memory regarding the semi-collaborative research done by Knives and her about Vash, nor having 'the ever most important cargo of the century' Vash there with her, made her a suspect of treachery. Distrustful fingers were pointing at her, declaring that she was a spy and was going hand-in-hand with Knives' hypothetical campaign to overthrow the current Central Government. Thus she was put into an indefinite amount of time in surveillance in the highest-security penitentiary in the whole of human kind history; a prison-in-space most known throughout the galaxy,VSX-01, the first of its kind, which more commonly known by the moniker of 'Monte-Cristo', derived from an old human legend of a wrongly convicted man; a tale most has forgotten about.
All legends were rooted from true stories. Perhaps... she was experiencing what the man from that one legend has endured? As in, being condemned and imprisoned against one's own free will?
Even if they could not convict her of the crime they accuse of her doing for lack of evidence, the military, understanding the infinite power even one Independent could generate, wasn't going to take any risks and let a 'hazard' like her roam free.
And all this time, she has served well for the prosperity of the human kind.
Such ignorant creatures, these mortals are...
Guess he was right all along.
Many also have come forward to claim her innocence. That she was manipulated and/or being used by the devious and highly intelligent terrorist Plant. But if the one being judged wasn't denying the faults being bestowed upon her by the Military Magistrates, what can others do?
On the other hand, what was the difference between 'being used' by Knives, and 'being used' by the Central Government?
Acceptance, of course.
The brothers have, in their own way, has accepted her...
"Remember that you were part of us. Of our family. And you still are."
Family...
"I look forward to the day when you'd return to us."
A place to return to...
At last. The one thing she would never obtain from the humans she had looked upon to; the acceptance she had sought for so long. It was so near, yet so far way...
All this time in confinement, she have thought of escaping, and at last returning to those cold, but open arms, accepting her as she was. She had to-- no, she must return to where they are... But, she herself understood the level of safety measures being executed all and around her imprisonment. Even her powers were sealed off by the gear she was forced to wear –so much alike the one worn by a certain, special man she knew– and the suppressant medications added into her food. Thus, she decided to lay low and bide her time.
She had a taste of how he felt when one was powerless to do anything--
"BOOOM--!!"
Her trail of thoughts derailed off completely when a huge explosion suddenly detonated through ceiling of her confinement.
Pieces of metal and plastic shattered everywhere. Some sharper ones even sliced through her suit and stabbed her from odd angles; mostly from above. She cringed and raised a thin ragged pillow above her head to protect herself from further injuries. Clouds of dust rained on her, making it hard for her to breathe and perceive what was currently happening to her surrounding
Another explosion, and she scarcely discerned, through the midst of dusts, an especially large chunk of debris was flying her way.
And she didn't have enough time to escape from it.
In a blink of an eye, the bulky metal lump unexpectedly fallen to diminutive pieces, and bounced onto her in the harmless sizes of the smallest pebbles. She covered her head with her arms, to keep the fragments from going into her eyes.
Only one person in the whole universe has the ability to cut through the impossibly resilient FT-109.N7 alloy.
Through the commotion and terrified screams from above and the cloud of dust enclosing her, she scarcely heard the sound of footsteps coming towards her.
A chuckle.
"I thought I'd find you here."
She stiffened.
That... that voice...
Little by little, her arms were lowered, exposing a pair of dull green orbs.
Looking straight into cold, azure eyes.
Which were gleaming with... mirth?
"Hey there. It's been some time."
Through the haze of dirt, she saw one very handsome young man with mismatched black-silver blond hair and beautiful cerulean orbs with a mesmerizing beauty spot under his right eye, seemingly even more striking in an immaculate custom-cut white military overall; an equally exquisite pale trench coat trailing him and waving dramatically with each of his steps. Elongated blades, seeming to be dancing around him; seeming to be protecting him from hostile shards by cutting them into miniscule powder, were shrinking into the folds of his left sleeve, and fading away from view; as if it was never there to begin with.
One man she has known all along to be Millions Knives.
And there was that smirk that she was longing to see for the longest time.
"It's been fun playing hide-and-seek with you for the last ten-odd years. But now, I—" Knives cleared his throat. "I mean, Vash, got bored and stated that he would no longer wait for you and told us to rescue the damsel-in-distress ourselves. Boy, wasn't he demanding. I already told him that I will not come to you since you haven't apologized for the food fight we had thirteen years, five months, twenty-one days, two hours, and forty-six-point-five-one seconds ago."
A brief flash of valued memories flickered in front of her eyes.
As he bantered, admittedly one-sided, Knives coolly waltzed his way to her, calmly shrugged his six-foot long coat off his shoulders, and draped it over and around hers. The brush of fingers on her shoulders, lingering a little longer than necessary, she noticed, shook her off her daydreaming state.
"However, he is the Commander of the Seraph. His words are our command."
Holding out a gloved hand, as white-crisp as his outfit, to the still-stunned woman, his smirk deepened, and huskily added,
"Welcome to the Seraph's crew, Miss Chronica."
Chronica smiled. For the first time in thirteen years.
"Yes."
And she accepted that hand with her own.
The moment her hand touched his, both disappeared into thin air.
Not a moment too soon, the ceiling collapsed into the unoccupied enclosure, and the whole structure exploded.
Into nothingness.
----------------
"SHHRRRKK-- EMERG --SRKK-- CY ---SRRKK-- THE SERAPH IS ----SRRRRKK---- WAY TO CEN --SRRRRRRKK--- GOVERM --SRRRRRRRRRRRKKKK-- UESTING MEDICA --SRKK-- ELP! I REPEA --SRKK--- REQU --SS--ST-- SRRRRRRRRRKKKKK-----"
Click.
A sigh. "Thanks. That transmission was too noisy. And non-informational."
A smirk. "Don't sweat it, Chief. I couldn't stand the noise either."
A stare. "..."
A frown. "You should rest more, Commander..."
A poker face. "There is no need to be overprotective. A little exercise is good for his body."
A door opening. "Even though The Doctor is right, if the decision was mine to make, I'd never in hell give you the permission to get up from that seat of yours."
An excited murmur. "Ah! Hello there, Second Chief! How was the rescue mission?"
Another smirk. "A complete success, I must say. Here, let me introduce to you all, the seventh and last member of the Seraph." A side-step. "Come in."
A nervous cough. "Compliments to all. My name is Chronica, ex-militaria of the Central Government Deep-Space Defense Force, Division: Intergalactic Space Armada, 'Pieces of Earth'. It's a great honor to be part of the--"
A hearty laugh. "There's no need to be so formal! We are all a family here! Loosen up!"
A half-smile. "He said it."
A discreet bow. "..."
A defensive glare. "..."
A sweet smile. "Welcome back, Chronica."
A superior grin. "The Seven Wings of Seraph have at last united. Now, we can begin with our true mission: the liberation of our kind and obliteration of the arrogant human species!"
A cheer.
A worried expression. "...Chronica? Is something wrong..?"
A gentle smile. "Liberation and obliteration. It sounds nice."
A smug smirk. "Of course it is."
Namdryphe soared gracefully through the darkness of space, into the predetermined path of independence and total destruction.
The ticket to the future is always blank.
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THE END?
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A/N: UGAAAAAAAAAAHHH...!! (?? What kind of cheer is this?)
YEEEEAAAAAH! XD At last I've managed to finish up the series! T-T (sniffles) This feeling of accomplishment really is soooooo REWARDING--! TvT
...Not to mention that when I finished up the original draft (before sending it to be beta-ed) late at the night before one of my exams... (The feeling of elation gone with a poof and is replaced with mounting apprehension.) I have done a bit of studying on the subject, but who knows what kind of questions the ever-so-good-natured-but-sneakily-evil lecturer would dish out on us (quite literally...). T-T (Extra Notes: I've gotten 62 for this paper. Wuuuuuu...)
So, how was the ending? Was it too rushed? Was it predictable? So-so? Or "OMG, what the (beep!) did this (beep!)ing author did to my (insert favorite character(s))!???" Uhh...Eheh...(sweats) I, as well, believed that throughout this fic, I had just sliced these characters into small, incomprehensible bits, and pieced them back together into thingies that are basically alien(...) in nature. As I explain here:
Knives has mood-swings that swings a loooot better than a kid on a literal swing (?),
...which reminds me of the manga TRIGUN (vol 3 ch 19 pg 231-243) where he delightedly(?) yelled at Vash for pointing a gun at him again and then moments later looked at Vash worriedly because, as I quote him, "You've gotten more of them, haven't you? Scars..." unquote, then managed to have a VERY SERIOUS talk (mostly one-sided, of course) about calamities and all, and after that he made Vash blow a hole in a moon while maniacally hollering about power and destruction (...),
(and yeah, writing this lil' summary gave me quite a headache too... TvT )
Oh, and did anyone else other me noticed Knives' perverse(?) habit of putting his right hand over the left side of his face whenever he gives out his sermons on, well, important stuff..? (sweats)
...all in all, in the end of this fic, he successfully managed to drag Chronica and Vash into doing his evil(...) biddings (DU'UH. He IS the ultimate manipulator of them all. XD);
Chronica became the broken and calm-before-the-typhoon Plant who finally cracked under the sheer pressure that sandwiched her between her responsibilities and her need of a place to truly call home;
And last-but-not-the-least, our own dear ol' Vash turned out to be the sweet and ever smiling dictator(?) of an Independent rebel/terrorist flotilla that Knives is very, very proud of. (HOW? Ask Knives. He was the one who talked Vash into believing that humans are EVIL. :p)
Yup. Totally alien. TvT
A little retrospect on my part makes me want to strangle this fic and throttle it till it dies, then kill myself by jumping four floors from my room down to an honorable(?) death. Or maybe I should consider hara-kiri... Wait. I need to find a head-chopper for that. Too bloody. Naah. Me like being alive. :3
(So what the bloody (beep!) was that bloody speech on the bloody suicide all about???)
Anyhoo, big thanks to everyone who had supported me throughout this series, especially my beta, Alaena Night-san. Not only did she beta-ed almost the whole series, she even gave out great reviews at just about Every. Single. Episode! You're just the best, Alaena-san! (glomps and huggles and squeeeeeeezes) Not forgetting my reviewers, some of who helped steered the way where this fic was goin (names of which will NEVER be disclosed, thank you), and my dear ol' readers that stick to the end of this crappy fic. Again, I really must thank you all. (bows)
... So seriously, tell me, what didcha think of the fic? Especially the ending..? X3 (peeks at everyone expectantly)
PS: Was listening to the song 'Michiyuki' from the anime 'Loveless' all the way through the last three-quarter of writing this last chappie. Somehow the supposedly-calming tempo inspired me into writing the cruel-and-then-suddenly-benign Knives, 'The Breaking of Chronica' and the ending involving the bombing and Seraph and... Well, you get the picture. X3
And FYI, I actually drew a black-and-white picture of the entire Seraph's crews minus Chronica late last year out of sheer boredom, oh-and-how it motivated me into writing this kinda ending! XD I'll put up a linkie to the piccie in my profile-ie when I finished with some touch-up-ies. See if you can make out who's who. :D
Thank you again to everyone!