z-----------------z
Legato paused in his narration long enough to take another drink of his water, this time
staring into his drink as he continued the story, "My father had told me not to worry, had tried
to assure to me that this was just a normal occurrence. Had he not been under as much
tension and stress as he was, he would have realized the futility of his reassurances, but he
did not. Instead, he left me with a few vague instructions on dinner and a box. He
instructed me not to open the box until he had left, which I followed, all the while knowing
deep down, that I would probably never see my father again. And I did not see the man I
had known as 'Father' ever again." He laughed a brittle laugh, swirling his drink around his
glass before glancing over at Knives, "Why don't you explain the Gung-ho Guns to them
while I go get something stronger to drink?" Knives nodded silently, watching carefully as
Legato padded over to one of the cabinets and began to mix himself something. After a
moment of this, he finally turned to Meryl and Wolfwood, sighing heavily.
"The Gung-ho Guns are descended from one of the plant-worshipping cults that started aboard the SEED ships. There is one main difference though, for while most of the plant followers were peaceful for the most part, the Gung-ho Guns derived their gospel from ancient Christian mythos regarding the end of the world. Their logic, which also contains hints of other religions, all of which are highly bastardized mind you, says that if Vash and myself are symbols of the coming Apocalypse, then it is their duty to usher it in."
"Apocalypse? Why would they see you as that?" Meryl's eyes were wide, this was more intrigue than she'd ever thought possible. Sure the world might end tomorrow, but she would die a happy woman, her life had finally taken a turn for the exciting.
"They see us as avenging angels." He considered his words for a minute before continuing, "I guess you could argue that Vash was one, of sorts, but for the most part the idea is completely ludicrous." Knives eyed Wolfwood's coat, "Vash didn't hate the humans, but in his quest to win Rem's love, he played the tension of the crew to the best of his ability. Outmaneuvering zealots was easy for him, and he felt it was a sign of my own weakness that I couldn't stand his manipulating ways. I believe that he figured if he became powerful enough, Rem would have to love him."
"And you just let him do this?" Wolfwood's tone warned Knives to watch his next words.
"I couldn't stop him. Vash was, well, he was Vash. I know that this is becoming a regular excuse for me, but it is true. Once he set his mind to it, there was no way to stop him. He is a puppetmaster with no equal that I've seen thus far, and when he feels like it, there is no force on this planet that can keep him from achieving his goals." Knives' voice was tired and dead, "He was the strong one, while I was the weak one who always huddled in his shadow. So, much as I hated myself for it, I couldn't protest him or his actions. I just couldn't."
"Why couldn't you tell me this before?" Wolfwood was relentless, not allowing Knives' obvious torment to slow him in his quest for answers, "What was keeping you from answering my questions before?"
Hands covering his face, Knives' shoulders shuddered violently before stilling. "Can't you see? I'm killing myself just telling you about the Gung-ho Guns. Every single instance I've been forced to deal with the Gung-ho Guns has been painful, but they have been few and far between. I had no real business with them until recently. I'm killing myself over their story, and you want me to talk about my brother?! The single person on this planet who shares my blood? The one person who influenced me most in my life? The one I share the most in common with?!!" A few choking sobs escaped from him, echoing across the room, which had gone deathly quiet.
Approaching from behind, Legato patted Knives on the shoulder, "Do you want me to finish their story?" A faint movement from Knives that could be taken as a nod, and Legato looked at Wolfwood darkly, "Then, let me continue," he purred dangerously, a warning glint in his eyes that told Wolfwood to leave well enough alone.
"The end result is that there are four active members of the Gung-ho Guns at any one time. Chosen for their prowess at battle, they are to represent the Four Horsemen of the Christian Bible. Whichever horseman that any one of the Gung-ho Guns happens to be, they follow the basic theme of that and wreak havoc as best they can among the humans. Although for many years they were a quiet and secretive group, they have grown steadily more violent since the July incident, and now they seem to be abandoning secrecy in favor of more and more destructive events. They seem to be preparing for an Armageddon of sorts, but your guess is as good as mine as of why they would choose to go public now."
Wolfwood shifted uneasily, shrugging the heavy coat off of his shoulders for a minute, before examining it closely. "So, which of the Gung-ho Guns is Millie Thompson?"
"I have heard that she is War." Legato's tone blended seamlessly with the night sky, sending shivers down Wolfwood's spine.
"And who are the others?"
"The one who is Pestilence is known as Zazie. He likes to think of himself as Zazie the Beast, controller of animals everywhere. Famine is a man known only as Caine, who has singlehandedly depopulated cities by eliminating their supply caravans. And the last of the Gung-ho Guns is Plague, known by name as Dominique the Cyclops."
"Only four of them, and yet they still manage to send the entire world into shivers when their name is mentioned. That's quite a reputation," Meryl mused.
"Vash the Stampede is one man, and yet many grown men have nightmares about him," Knives said quietly, drawing Meryl's gaze like a magnet. "It's not so much the number as the actions behind the number that create the fear. The Gung-ho Guns have more than earned their reputation through their actions of cruelty and violence, whereas Vash's reputation is mainly through exaggerated accounts. Both work well in perpetuating myths."
"How do the Gung-ho Guns tie in to the destruction of July City?"
"They don't... and they do. In a way, July City gave their ideas credence, and therefore July made them who they are today for a large part, but since they never were actually there, they really had nothing directly to do with it. Mostly, they come in during the aftermath of that time."
Wolfwood's eyes narrowed, his gaze raking over the two who were telling the story. "Enough backstory, I want to know what happened. How could Vash destroy a town? Why would he do it? And most important, what do I have to do with any of this?"
His outburst was met with cold glances by both of the speakers. The tension weighed heavily on everyone in the room, but the silence wasn't broken until Knives finally shrugged his shoulders wearily, saying, "Fine. Much as I hate to remember, I will tell you EXACTLY what happened to me that day. The day started perfectly normally, I was supposed to help a farmer with his new well which wasn't producing water..."
z---------------------------------z
July City
20 years ago
"Come on now, put your back into it!" The man behind him yelled at the hired hands who merely groaned and strained harder. Knives glared at his boss, he was entirely too much of a slave driver, but there was really nothing he could do about it. Not unless he wanted to jeopardize the place in humanity he had earned for himself over the last century. So he followed the man's instructions and pushed as hard as he could. Harder, in fact. Veins popping out of his neck, he strained with all of the others to push the wheel that would bring the first few drops of that precious liquid up from the depths.
Push...push...push... He could feel the muscles in his back bunching and throbbing. If this kept up for much longer he would pay for it later in cramps. As one calf seized up, he realized that he was already paying for it. And for what? He wasn't getting paid nearly enough for this kind of torture, but unfortunately, his leaser had just raised the price on the small apartment he rented on the outskirts of town. Suddenly, his job as a bartender in the local saloon couldn't pay all of his bill...and the end result of all of this was that he was forced to take another job. Ah yes, the joys of another job, starting out as an unrespected rookie for a satanic boss... No wonder he hated his newest job. It was lucky that it was only for a few weeks and it was relatively good paying.
"Alright, alright, keep it moving!!" The slavedriver's voice cracked above the groaning masses once more to encourage them. Lost in his thoughts, Knives had missed the first nudge of movement that suggested that water was beginning to be pumped. Push harder. Harder.
There was a faint cheer among the exhausted workers as the wheel began to turn slowly. Knives' voice cracked as he attempted to join the cheer. Damn, but he was dehydrated. Pacing the wheel, he applied just enough pressure to keep it moving, watching as the others did the same. After a few minutes of pacing it, his boss yelled at them to stop pushing and step away. As everyone willingly followed his orders, they watched in wonder as the wheel spun around its axis, propelled by the pressure of the underground water. A ragged cheer rose above the crowd as the boss himself pumped a glassful of water and drank from it noisily.
The job was done, and now it was paytime. Grinning tiredly, Knives watched as the others congratulated each other on a job well done, roughly joking and slapping one another on the back.
Nice as it looks, you'll note that you yourself are ostracized from the group. They do fear you, even if you pretend to be human.
But those was his brother's words, spoken rashly in a heated argument. An argument which resulted in Knives leaving Rem and Vash to go live for himself as a human. An argument which contained the last words he'd ever said to his brother. Words that happened over half a century ago. But they were only words, weren't they? What did the old nursery rhyme say,
'Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me...'
How wrong that was, Knives thought wistfully. How utterly wrong. Physical wounds would have healed by now, but Vash's words stung as painfully as they had when first uttered, eighty years before.
After collecting his paycheck, he headed off towards the local bank, hoping to deposit it before closing time. The suns beat down fiercely, fiery twins raging against his skin. Despite his light complexion, the suns' light never seemed to burn him, which one merely one of the oddities that the townspeople commented one when the topic discussion was one Mr. Knives Millions. If he heard their comments, he never showed it and his attitude of friendly service never changed towards any of them. He was, as always, an outsider, and he knew it.
"Knives? Oh my god, Knives!" A frantic female voice interrupted his thoughts as he crossed the street towards the bank. Spinning around, he was greeted by the last person in the world he'd expected. Rem was running towards him, her face pale and lined with worry.
"Rem?" How could she still be alive after all of this time, let alone looking as young as she did? What was going on?
"Knives," she gasped for breath upon reaching him, "I've been looking for you. You've got to help me, Vash--"
"Is not my problem," he cut in, turning back towards the bank. If he hurried, one of the tellers might still be working.
"No, no..." She trailed off, speaking to his back. When he didn't respond to her desperate tone, she began a hurried explanation, "Knives, Vash has gone completely insane. He's--"
"Here." Vash's cold voice caused both of them to spin around, watching as Vash dismounted slowly from the thomas he'd been riding. He was wearing that trenchcoat that he had made for himself, oh so long ago. From the set of his shoulders, Knives could guess that something was seriously wrong here. "It's nice to know that Rem feels she can run to you in times of need, brother."
Knives was confused, "What? She ran up to me just now... I really don't know what's going on here." Remembering the harsh words of their last encounter, he stopped suddenly, watching Vash. "What is going on here?"
"That's it, always conspiring against me. You never do change, do you Knives?" Around them, a small crowd of people had come to watch the heated argument between the two men, one wearing sweatstained clothes and the other clothed in a brilliant red trenchcoat. Whispers passed between the crowd members as people placed bets on which of the brothers would win in the fight that was sure to come.
Knives ignored all this, watching instead, as Vash approach him. Any thoughts of transferring his paycheck to his savings account had vanished the minute the man in red had appeared. Now if only Knives could figure out what was going on here. Something was definitely wrong, but he didn't have enough information on the proceedings to understand the dynamics of the situation. That, and the fact that the expression on his brother's face was unreadable to the point of being dangerous. Knives didn't like this at all.
"So, you've seduced Rem to your side, have you?" Vash's voice, if possible, was even colder than it had been earlier.
"My side?" Knives looked frantically at Rem, watching as she cringed under Vash's accusing eyes. "Vash, I don't know what you're talking about, she just--"
"Shut up!" Vash's voice cracked over the murmurs of the crowd. "Stop trying to blame her for your underhanded dealings! She is much more innocent and pure than anything you could ever achieve! And you," at this, Vash's voice lowered to an almost reasonable tone, "You corrupted her, dear brother. You corrupted my angel with your ideas."
Knives knew he was dealing with a madman, although previous dealings with his brother had not made this as apparent, this conversation alone was enough to convince him of that. "My ideas?" Knives tried to match the tone in Vash's voice, failed, and settled for the slightly angry tone that came out. "She was 'infected' by my ideas? And what, pray tell, are my ideas? All I ever wanted was to be free of you two. All I ever wished for was to be left in peace!"
"Stop it!" Rem wailed as the two brothers glared at each other. "Stop this fighting! Please!" Turning to Vash, she began to speak to him soothingly, "Vash, please don't do this. I'm tired of this fighting. Please, just stop." Her voice was almost a lullaby, and Knives appreciated her efforts. At least she wasn't being a useless sop like he'd always found her before.
Vash began to cry then, his bitter tears coursing down his cheeks. "Rem," he whispered softly, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for causing you pain." His words were muffled as he spoke softly into the depths of her hair.
The crowd began to disperse, as the situation died down. Attempting to leave this 'happy reunion,' Knives cursed his brother for the trouble he was causing in Knives' own life. How was he ever supposed to live a normal life if Vash kept destroying all of his hard work? How indeed.
After a few moments of butting through the crowd futilely, Knives gave up his escape attempt, choosing to linger on the sidelines as Rem and Vash talked quietly. She seemed to be explaining something to him, begging for understanding, and he was nodding slowly. It was a vision indeed, the crimson knight and his lady fair. A son and his mother. And Knives was left at the edges, looking in on something that he deemed as private and none of his business.
'If I can leave right now, I won't have to deal with either of them,' he kept repeating to himself. It was a mantra that he found particularly useful when dealing with his sibling, one that had been extremely useful during Vash's shiptime mood swings. You might say that it had been a survival skill against Vash's unpredictable nature.
The mob surrounding them had dispersed enough by now to allow Knives through. Pushing his way through gratefully, he tried to leave without attracting any attention. In his rush to leave however, he knocked one of the people in his way to the ground.
It was a child, about ten years of age. A little boy with brilliant blue hair and striking tiger's eyes. Jumping back startled, Knives collected himself and reached his hand out to the child, offering to pick him up, when the child's eyes widened and he whispered a word.
"Uncle?"
"What?" But he knew, had heard tales of his brother's life in the desert, alone save for an odd little toddler, whom every traveler remembered with startling accuracy. And although this was no toddler, the child before him fit the same select profile as the toddler. "Vash is--"
"Father," and for an instant the child's eyes narrowed, as if chasing back tears. "Yes." His cultured voice hinted at secrets best left unknown by Knives. "I followed him. He was chasing Rem." Knives noted something behind that single syllable, 'Rem,' but didn't pursue it. Turning back to Knives, the child noted dryly, "I see that he didn't kill you."
"What?!" Although Vash had never really warmed up to his brother, the worst he had ever been was apathetic. He had never truly hated Knives, had he?
"He left me to go find you. He said it was his duty, and even went so far as to give me his -"
"KNIVES!! GET AWAY FROM LEGATO....NOW!!!" Vash's voice suddenly ripped above their conversation, scattering the remainder of the crowd, as Vash brandished his gun at his brother. Legato, once more on his feet, began to back slowly away from Knives, his eyes fearful as he saw his father as never before.
Craning his neck around to see what had enraged his brother so, Knives saw Rem clinging fearfully to Vash's coat, letting the breeze whip the tails around her face.
Ivory...crimson...ivory...raven...ivory...crimson...so beautiful...
Something was whispering in the back of his head. Shaking his head to clear it, he watched as Vash carefully lowered the prized silver six-shooter that he had crafted for himself, many years ago. It was the one that--
>Blink<--
that, he had--
>Blink<
But he was drifting. Something in Vash's eyes warned him that if he wasn't wary, he might end up dead. There was a dangerous animalistic glint in his brother's eyes, one that verged on the look of calculating insanity. Very dangerous indeed. It was no time for idle reminiscences.
And then he was falling, falling before he had even registered being shot. Something deep within told him that he was bleeding, but he never felt any of it. There was just him falling and the endless rushing breeze. After a moment, he realized vaguely that he was lying on his stomach, lying in a pool of his own blood. Something was throbbing in his ears and it was almost as if he could hear his life pumping its way out of his body. Almost? He laughed, a gurgling sigh of a chuckle. Who was he kidding? He was hearing his life pump its way out of his mortal shell. And all he could do was laugh...
Some part of him was vaguely aware of Legato leaning over him, checking his pulse and
turning angrily to his father. He was yelling something, but Knives couldn't hear anything
over the angry pulse of his heart. This was like, that other time--
"Why are you taking their side? They would side against you in an instant."
Ignore the voices of yesteryear. Stay in the here and now for the sake of survival.
To his right, he watched as young Legato whirled around and stared directly at him, paralyzing his dying body with the intensity of his gaze. Something deep within Knives stirred at that, Legato was trying to help him somehow, if only he could aid as well... If only he knew how...
>>Follow my lead. I'll get you out of here. You're in no shape to deal with him, let me do it.<<
It was Legato again, his voice echoing through Knives' mind, a voice of reason amidst chaos.
>>Okay.<< Knives forced himself to swallow. He couldn't feel his arms or legs... was he going to die? He certainly would if Vash had his way with him...
Something deep in his mind stirred, an angry beast that was beginning to waken. The cool stem of thought in Knives' mind that was Legato reached out and soothed the beast, channelling its anger towards a more productive path. Deep within Knives, power grew--
"Legato!" Vash's voice howled above the sky, which was beginning to darken. His eyes glowed a fierce blue light, one that threw his features into stark contrast. "He has tricked you as well?"
Legato shook his head, "Father," he whispered above the growing wind.
>>Get ready,<< the voice in Knives' mind warned. From his angle on the ground, Knives watched Legato's shoulders tense. >>GO!!<< His mindvoice thundered.--
PUSH--
As Knives vanished from view, Legato panted slightly and turned to his father. "He did nothing. You did it all."
"Legato--"
"Shut UP!" Legato screamed at the man he had looked up to his whole life, now laid bare as the man he actually was, "I LOVED YOU!! I LOVED YOU AND YOU THREW ME AWAY!!" Tears streamed down his face as he spoke the words that no child should ever be forced to say. "You threw me away, father. I was a tool to you. A tool, not family. She was your family, not me..." He broke down, his face lowered, the tears falling to the parched earth in a steady rain. Both fists were trembling as he tried to keep control, something that his father had always valued highly.
"Legato." And that voice was the voice of the man who had whispered gently to Legato at night. It was the voice of the man who had loved him, once upon a time. "He fooled you once, for which I forgive you." Legato's eyes widened in horror as he turned his gun upon him, "But you were corrupted and are now unusable, and for that I cannot forgive him."
A single shot and Legato crumpled to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he watched as Vash levelled the gun at him once more.
"No!" Rem, having stayed silent for the duration of Knives' shooting and of Legato's wounding, sprang forward to throw Vash's shot off as he tried to finish off Legato. The shot, previously aimed at Legato's head, entered Rem's back, right between her shoulderblades. It exited right below her left breast, striking the ground at Legato's feet.
Vash gasped. Time stopped.
"RE-E-E-E-E-E--"
Rem fell to the ground, suddenly choking on her own blood, as the liquid pooled in her lungs.
"-E-E-E-E-EM!!!" Vash darted forward, catching her before her head hit the ground. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth, dripping onto the shirt she wore, staining it red. The blood mixed with his tears as he spoke to her in her last moments.
"Rem, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry... Rem, if you hold on, I can keep you here. Rem, why did you stop me? We didn't need Legato anymore, Knives will do. Rem, can you forgive me? Rem, please, please stay here. Rem? Rem, can you hear me? Rem, stay here. Rem, I'm sorry, can you forgive me? Rem...."
Legato watched his father cradle his mother, watched her slip away as Legato was. Watched even as she embraced the darkness that he fought to stave off. Clutching his shoulder, he crawled to where his father lay, crying the tears he had never let go before.
Rem choked, a last haunting trail of blood and sweat trickling down her ivory skin, before going silent. Vash watched in agony, his silver gun trailing in the pool of blood that marked his shot. When the last breath left, his face went white, a pale wraith against the gold of his hair and the red of his coat. The sickly, sticky red which coated all nearby surfaces... The red of the copper taste at the back of his throat... Death.
It was then, at that precise moment, that two things happened. The first of these saved Legato from the second.
First, Legato reached out one hand, hugging his father's coat close to him, drinking in the scents of leather and sand that were his father's trademarks. "Father--" he choked, before being drowned out by his father's scream.
"REEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMM!!!!" A tortured cry, a gathering of destructive power, and then-- a beam of light that destroyed everything it touched.
One moment July was the Seventh City, and the next it was a scene of Hell. At its epicenter, silent flashes of power still emanated from its source, a man in red who clutched a woman to his breast while sobbing into her unresponsive shoulder. Somewhere beneath the rubble, a child dreamed his pain away, unconsciously using his power to keep himself alive. Somewhere outside of town, a young girl watched the light flash, and gained a purpose to her life.
z--------------------------z
Silence.
Knives opened his eyes carefully. What had happened? He felt drained and lost. Something was going on, something that he had just barely escaped... Something involving his brother... Throwing a blanket that covered his legs back, he tried to sit up, stopping in pain, as the wound he had suffered at his brother's hands flared to life once more.
"There there, now. Go back to sleep. You're in no shape to even consider getting out of bed." A kindly voice belonging to a blurry shape pushed him back to the straw pallet he lay on. "Sleep."
"But where--"
"Sleep," the voice commanded softly. "There's all the time in the world for remembering, later."
And Knives slept.
z-------------------z
And Legato healed.
z-------------------z
And Millie Thompson cried.
z-------------------z
Author's Notes: Okay, the July scene is over. Where next? About halfway through this
chapter I decided to redo it as a flashback, because it was getting boring to write the whole
thing as a conversation conducted by Legato and Knives. Plus, Meryl and Wolfwood
weren't contributing much to the whole thing, so it seemed the most logical thing to do.
Hopefully I'll be able to finish this in another chapter or two, but who knows? At least I'm done with the major flashback scene... man, that was a bitch and a half. Note to self: No more Rem stories. Nuh-uh, no more.
Anyway, back to the actual notes. If the timeline for the story keeps changing, ignore it. I'm trying to stick pretty much to the timeline of the original anime, so any discrepancies are flukes. I think they are, anyway.
And on a side note, wouldja believe I started this story with the intention of writing a
romance for once? Sheesh....
