The Belief of a Drunk
Hi peoples! This is the next chapter of the Trigun ficcie (no duh, eh?)! Heh, you know that town that Knives was walking into last chapter? Well, that town's one that Vash went through a while ago… Me and my friend always call it the drunks town… O damn, I need to check and see what that one guy's name is before I can write this… *sigh* Back to the episodes I go… Man, I hate it when the obsessive compulsive side of me comes out…
Knives walked peaceably down the street, looking this way and that. He bothered no one, helped no one, and consequently no one gave him a second glance.
Pausing in an abandoned square, he looked up towards the twin suns, shading his eyes. I'd say another hour or so more of light, he estimated silently. He looked back down the street and frowned. Like the square he stood in, it was abandoned. Looking all around him answered his newest question; he was out here all alone.
He blinked, eyeing his surroundings a little suspiciously. He picked a direction and began walking down that street. His footsteps made little clouds of dust rise, but there was no sound. Is something amiss? he wondered. Cities in which there were no people to study or get supplies from didn't make for the life he was carving out for himself. He had half a mind to find whoever was causing this disturbance and killing him for the inconvenience.
Turning around another corner, he caught a glimpse of a man and smiled. Not abandoned after all. That man turned around another bend and Knives began to follow him. Soon enough the sounds of laugher and voices were heard, and the man he had followed turned into a bar. After a moment's consideration, Knives followed him.
No one noticed him when he stepped in, but that was just fine with Knives. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, though there didn't seem to be any serious alcohol out, yet anyways. Knives had heard the story of this town, where his brother had become the town's infamous drunk gunsmith's best friend. The two had proceeded to get plastered, then save the town from a Vash imposter with a ridiculous stunt of pretending their hands were guns.
It seemed to be a regular occurrence, how they were all situated here. There was a feel of ritual here, of the same thing repeated again and again. It was the end of the work week, after all; plenty of people would be out for a night on the town. He went to an empty table in the back and sat down, resting his bag against his leg. He leaned back and simply watched people as they talked, trying to take it all in.
"Drink?"
He looked up at the woman who had spoken to him. She was heavyset, with brown hair and eyes, a green beanie on her head. She wore an apron as well, and her face seemed to be formed into a permanent frown, though it seemed as though she was trying to be friendly at the moment.
"Water, please," he responded smoothly, smiling up at her charmingly. If he was going to have to leave an impression at all, it was better to leave a good one. She didn't seem to notice his charm however, and grunted vaguely before walking off again. He frowned thoughtfully after her. Could she not be friendly to a stranger?
Then he shrugged and leaned back again, lost in thought. She brought his water and he murmured a polite hello, only to have her walk off again without response. He shrugged her off again to watch her customers. Someone else had just walked in and the whole bar was a clatter.
He was fairly heavily muscled, with brown eyes and dark brown hair. He greeted each man and woman present amiably, asking after their families and work, speaking at least a few words with them before moving on.. Then his eyes settled on Knives and he began to make his way over. The blonde watched him as he sat down across from the table he was at and outstretched a hand for Knives to shake.
"Frank Marlon," he announced easily with a smile.
After eying the hand for a moment, Knives took it and shook it gingerly.
"No name?" he asked jokingly. "You know, I met someone once who looked a lot like you who never gave me a name."
It's the gunsmith, realized Knives, Vash's memory of the man coming to him as though it was his own. That was one of the advantages of staying with his equally telepathic brother, he supposed, no matter how annoying he was; Knives could recognize people he had never met, courtesy of Vash. The only real downside was that Vash could do the same with people Knives had met. Though most of them are dead, so I guess it really doesn't matter too much…
Deciding he might as well answer, he smiled pleasantly. "Knives," he told Frank pleasantly. "I've heard abut you; my brother holds you in high respect."
Recognition dawned in the other man's eyes and he leaned back in his chair, grinning. "He does me too much credit then; all I did was fix up his gun a few times."
Knives smirked a little. "Not as easy of a feat as it sounds," he replied evenly. He pulled out his own colt and held it up for Frank to see before slipping it back in its holster. "I should know, I made both his and mine."
Frank sat forward again, his face excited. "Ah, that reminds me, I was curious about a certain area of i-"
Knives turned an old glare on him that stopped the other man in his tracks. "Let's call it a trade secret for now," he told him quietly, a hint of cold menace in his voice. Then he leaned back and smiled charmingly once again. "It's really of no affair, trust me."
Frank nodded a little to himself. Then he looked up and acted as though he was about to speak, when Knives' attention was snatched by a little woman who had poked him with her cane.
"I've seen you before," she announced. She prodded him with her cane again. "Tell me where."
Knives looked down at her confusedly. He had no memory of Vash's to fill in the blank for this woman; apparently she hadn't stayed in his mind as someone important. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he told her.
"Nonsense!" she snapped, whacking him hard in the shin. Knives winced a little. For all her size, she could hit pretty hard. "I know I've seen you before and I'll have it out of you where!"
A little boy came up and began to tug the woman's skirt. "Grandma, it's not him," he told her, his tone of voice pleading. "He just looks like him is all."
"Geoffrey, leave me be!" she told the boy and he wilted. She tugged her skirt away from his grubby little hands and turned back to Knives. "Tell me where I've seen you before right now!" she demanded.
Knives opened his mouth to answer, only to find other people were now clustering around him, eyeing him suspiciously. He sighed a little, upset with his inability to blend in. He could only hope he wouldn't be thought of as his brother so much in other towns…
"Yeah, that's him alright…"
"Nah, his hair's lighter… And he hasn't got no red coat."
Yeah, you're right, he's not the same, his eyes aren't the same either…"
"That's him I tell ya! I've never seen someone chug so much beer so fast!"
"You only think that because you've been trying to beat his chugging record all night, Ralf."
"No, it has to be him… I mean, look at him…"
"Yeah, I mean, how many people d'ya think look like that, all real tall and blonde?"
"But wasn't it a brighter blonde?"
"It is, light's just playin' tricks on you, Justin. That's him alright."
Suddenly someone else that Knives once again had no clue who he was burst forward through the crowds and yelled, "What're ya'll talkin' 'bout! Tha's Vash the Stampede!" His eyes rolled with panic as he tried to turn back through the crowds and make his way away from Knives. "Run fer yer lives, i's Vash de Stampede!" He tripped on someone's foot and flew a few feet. He landed hard on his stomach and started screaming at the top of his lungs. "He's come to kill us all!"
Knives, who had closed his eyes when the man started babbling, opened them back up and looked to see the reactions of the people around him. To his surprise they weren't panicking, but they just shrugged a little and one or two of them had gone to try to calm the panicky guy down. "You don't understand," screamed the same man. "I was at Augusta! I saw 'im with me own two eyes! Tha's him, standin' right there!"
Ah, someone from Augusta, thought the blonde with some recognition of the event. Vash had chased the entire town out before going to fight his minions of the time, the Gung-Ho Guns. And right now the guy reeked of alcohol.
Which was probably the only reason no one else was in a total panic yet.
Finally, Frank said, "Vash the Stampede, eh?"
Knives turned to face him. "My brother's name, not my own," he quipped sharply. He sighed as he heard everyone else murmur. Why do I have to look so much like that idiot brother of mine…?
"Brother, eh?"
"That makes sense, they must be brothers…."
"You mean that guy from before was the real Vash the Stampede? And here I thought he was way too nice to have a big name like that…"
"But it makes sense too! I mean, the last guy wasn't scared of the guy who tried to rob us and say he was Vash at all! Of course he wouldn't be scared! He knew the other guy was a fake because he was the real Vash!"
"Heh, trash can hat and all, eh?"
"Man, I knew there was something strange about him, but nothing as far out as that…"
"Yeah, really!"
"Oh well I guess. So how're you, Mr…" Hey, where'd he go?!"
Because now that they looked around, the tall man in white had disappeared.
***
Knives was once again on the outskirts of town, stalking away, somewhat annoyed. He wasn't going to get any research done with everyone fawning over him. He'd just walk tonight and get food at the next town he came to. Hopefully it wouldn't be as hellish as the last one was.
Well, I hoped you liked this. Next chapter: Angelfire! Haha! I think you guys might piece together some of the implications in there, heheheheheh….