Time.

Hours? Months. Years…

Blood was spilled, flesh severed, and veins snapped, but the Plant was stubborn in his new resolve. His only purpose now was to endure.

Vash had recovered and remained within the floating tube and watched for the majority of Knives' existence. He didn't want to witness Knives' suffering, and the older twin suggested to simply turn the other way.

Knives' limbs were shackled, legs parted and arms fastened by clicking chains rattled against the wall of the room. The pounding on his back was muffled by the layer of blood coating his body, making any further assaults slippery. His hair was drenched in blood as a result of a head-bashing done moments before. All he could do was clench his fists while Steve continued to carve into his back or cause lashings deeper than the furthest pits of Hell.

Steve reeled back from the final assault on Knives' body and sighed. "Do you know how long you've been here?"

Knives didn't hear at first since his attentions were focused on endurance. When Steve kicked his leg, he would've stumbled if it weren't for the chains keeping him upright.

The Plant weakly looked over his shoulder to glare.

"It's been about twenty years since you died now."

Knives rolled his eyes before turning away.

"Don't believe me? Eh, I mean, I get that you wouldn't. I didn't either. Time is such a tricky business here."

"It's been…" Knives closed his mouth.

"Feels like weeks, huh? Hah, for all you know, Vash's probably happy with that insurance girl, having kids, living happily ever after, now that he's spared from your presence." Steve shrugged.

Knives scowled as he palmed the wall to balance himself. His legs gushed blood, but he continued to force his body to stand. The chains kept his limbs parted, but he refused to surrender now.

Steve chuckled. "Vash never died. If he did, he wouldn't be sent here!"

Knives glanced over his shoulder to see a sleeping Vash floating in a tube. He then turned to the wall and slightly shook his head.

"Who knows…" Steve began. "He might have died, to be honest. He might be in the other place. He might have survived and, as I said, started a family, named one Rem, Wolfwood, Nick—whatever. The whole cliche." The human reached for Knives' shackles and began freeing his limbs from the suffocating metal. "Or, maybe he's drifting across the world in despair. He did lose you, after all, despite everything you had done to him. He couldn't save you. You did try to improve. Tried and died."

"I had my suspicions."

"I know." Steve tapped his head after watching Knives tremble as he desperately clung to the wall for support.

"Why reveal this now?" Knives asked in a whisper.

"I enjoy torturing you, for one. Two, you are one persistent bastard. Wasn't expecting you to last this long given your history with pain. Three, the bosses have another plan for you."

Knives smeared his eyes with his arm where the chains hadn't left their marks. He grunted at the sudden weight of a towel thrown over his shoulder.

"To be honest, I'm kind of excited to see what you'll do next."

Before Knives knew it, the towel was dripping with blood, but he kept it over his slippery shoulder. He nearly fell, then he balanced himself to meet Steve's smug expression.

The vermin clapped his hands. "Congratulations, Millions Knives. Congrats. You've been given another chance!"

Knives narrowed his eyes. "I thought Hell was supposed to mean eternal damnation. The threat of irreversible damnation had plagued humanity for years."

"Yeah, but humanity is pretty fucking stupid. I don't need to be a Plant to know that. Hell is basically, as far as I'm aware, a place for sinners to suffer for a while. You haven't been with us for long, but oh well."

Knives groaned before nearly tripping on his own feet. "Mercy is a concept here."

"You'll be given another chance. Where? When? Who? I can't say. You might change the world. You might just die forgotten. Hell, might turn into a human. A dog? Cat? Another universe! The possibilities are truly, truly infinite."

Knives watched his blood splatter pattern slowly drip down the wall he had just been tortured against. "Reincarnation."

"Hmm, usually. Since you're a special case and amused the entities here, maybe it'll be something specific." Steve shrugged.

"Another chance…?" Knives would never see Vash again, but at least his sentimental brother hadn't been truly present in Hell, after all. Still, Knives found himself clenching his teeth at the fact that he had been manipulated for years.

"Well, we still have some time before you're shipped off. Any last requests? A last meal?"

Knives felt his body tremble from the loss of blood, but having already experienced the effects of his environment, he'd heal in a matter of minutes.

"Is there any way to contact my idiot brother?"

"Hmm, yep." Steve grinned. "My advice when you see him would be to keep walking after you're done with what you'll say. Then, who knows what'll happen to you."

Knives always could communicate with his sisters and brother before, but he hadn't expected Steve to send him into Vash's dreams.

Knives found himself walking through the darkness. He felt the heels of his feet propel him through it with each step, and traveling through the area reminded him of the decades he spent recovering in a bulb. It was peaceful, quiet, and the air washed over him in waves of warmth.

Even in a dream, his walk, posture, and overall demeanor radiated confidence and pride, eyes narrowed with determination. He found himself slightly startled when he spotted his brother's back facing him in the distance.

"This feels really… real…" Vash said to himself.

"Hmm."

The outlaw jumped and veered around to spot Knives with his arms crossed.

"Vash."

"Knives… I'm dreaming again."

The Plant rolled his eyes. "If I promised you that this isn't entirely a dream, would you even believe me?"

"You don't break promises, but I do..."

"About what?" Knives smirked.

Vash lowered his eyes. "I—I promised I'd take care of you…"

Knives felt the words on his tongue, but his pride clasped onto them, forcing them to remain.

"Rem wanted me to… I tried. You saved me, but you didn't…" Vash raised the back of his hand to his eyes before abruptly dropping his arm. "I'm sorry."

Knives shrugged. "Vermin behavior is predictable. Be more cautious next time."

"Next time?"

Knives suddenly appeared exhausted as he uncrossed his arms. "I'm unsure of what will happen next. You'll always be my brother." He clenched his fists before looking directly into his brother's dejected eyes. "I'm sorry—Vash. I… I was wrong." Knives sighed and turned away from his brother. "Avoid suffering through life and live it."

Knives took a step. As the moment passed, he listened to his brother's pleas for him to stay, but he couldn't. What else could he have said? He tried, but even Hell hadn't entirely broken him and altered his character into a weeping, bumbling mess comparable to his twin. He couldn't say everything that needed to be said, but he was confident it was enough. So, he walked until something altered, for something significant to reveal itself from the shadows, something different.

A lot had changed. A lot could change, but the circumstances were similar, chaotic, and delicate. Perhaps it would happen again. Same mistakes, same trauma—again and again.

One day, a lone woman with long black hair wandered the quiet SEEDS ship. The rest of the crew remained asleep along with millions of others on hundreds of ships. The Plants were also present, and their presence signified a new beginning.

They had experimented and ended on one already.

The woman, alone and drowning in shame, stared into a Plant bulb, eyes widened, and heart racing. As her fingertips pressed into the warm surface, she gasped at the sight of two babies covered in substances and left in vulnerable positions at the bottom of the bulb.

She had to get them out. She had to. She had to save the children. The Plant angels. The twins.