Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun or any of its characters.
I finally decided on a plot, it was inspired by an Oscar Wilde short story by the same name as this story "The Sphinx without a Secret." Hope you like this chapter, please read and review!
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He woke up suddenly, to the feeling of a sudden fall. The dream had been horrible, he had been mistaken for some outlaw, he couldn't even remember the name, and then he had been shot. He was sweating like mad, and the sweat was as cold as ice, his entire body was numb and didn't want to respond, so he just laid their and looked around the room, wondering where he was, moving only his head and eyes. The room was small, the once white wallpaper now peeling, the bed looked to be the only thing in the room, there was only one door, and no windows, he could hear low talking through the closed door. He gradually regained feeling to his body; it came in the form of a dull ache. He slowly started to sit up, about halfway to a sitting position, his left side suddenly erupted into a sharp, searing pain, kind of like a paper cut but a hundred times worse. (If that's even possible) He instantly shifted his weight to his right side, bring his left hand up to grab at his left side, no sooner did he start the maneuver but his shoulder and an area dangerously close to his throat exploded with pain, his left arm went completely without sensation instantly, buckling under even the small weight he was putting on it. He let out a long, low scream, through clinched teeth, falling back onto the bed, his breathing now harsh and labored. He didn't even notice when the door suddenly came crashing in, his senses completely deadened to the outside world, all that he could hear was his heart beating loudly, pounding in his head, he eyes closed tightly against the pain that racked his body, all his other sense turned inward, concentrating on the pain that felt like it would devour him. Finally, he could see, well, sort of, his eyes were being wrenched open by somebody; he looked into the face of a tall, dark man, he looked like a priest, he suddenly remembered his "dream", maybe it wasn't a dream after all, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a new wave of pain seared its way through his body. He curled himself into a tight ball; all it served to do was injure him further, tearing his wounds farther open. The he heard someone yelling, though he didn't know how he could hear anything over his own heart beat. It was the priest; he was yelling "Vash! Come over hear and help me! We need to get him to stop moving around so much!" At the name Vash, he stopped moving around, ignored most of the pain that was gradually beginning to lighten, Vash? Wasn't that what one of the attackers in my dream had called me, no; it wasn't a dream, that's for sure. He then felt hands on him, laying him flat on his back, stopping him from moving even the tiniest bit. He slowly opened his eyes, the lids hurt from being pressed together so hard, he looked down, realized he was still struggling on instinct, he slowly stopped himself, he looked at the two men that held him down. Indeed one was the one who had saved in what he had thought had been a dream. The other was a tall man with spiky blonde hair, and an odd red coat. The priest was looking at him with genuine concern. He leaned forward, his cross around his neck hanging down, almost touching the bed. "You need to stop struggling kid, your just gonna make it worse on yourself." He couldn't help but interpret that as a threat, his body tensing, he didn't care that it made his shoulder and side hurt even more. "No you idiot! I won't do anything to you! You going to tear yourself apart, your beat up pretty bad, it's a miracle you're even still alive!" the priest said, exasperated. He relaxed again with a relieved sigh. Only then did he notice the warm feeling spreading through his shoulder and side, he looked down and saw blood quickly spreading through bandaged he had also previously overlooked. He laid back once again, exhausted, he quickly fell into an uneasy sleep, the other two were talking amongst themselves, something about more bandages.
He woke up again a few hours later, his bandages replaced with fresh ones. "Welcome back!" He easily recognized the voice of the priest, he started to sit up but there was a hand on his chest the second he started moving, pushing him back down. "Don't think so. remember what happened last time?" He did, a little to vividly, he gladly laid back, making himself comfortable, he turned his head so he can looking at the man who had done so much for him for no reason at all. At the moment he didn't care why, as much as whom. "Who are you?" he said, surprised at how weak he sounded, then he realized how weak he actually was at the moment, he couldn't sit up, and judging by how tired he was, he probably could if he tried. The other man stood, performing an almost comically short bow. "Wolfwood's the name." "Pleasure to meet you.Wolfwood was it? My name is Murgen." He slowly extended his right hand, careful not to hurt himself any further. Wolfwood took it, shook it lightly, ever mindful of the others wounds. "Would you mind telling me exactly what happened? I am a bit hazy on the details." A solemn nod. "Of course. I was doing my nightly errands..ok, I was barhopping, when I heard gunfire, there wasn't much, so I figure someone was severely hurt, or dead. So I got over to where the shots had originated from, and saw two men mercilessly, kicking something on the ground, that something ended up being you. Then I saw one draw a gun, and lean over you, he then said something about Vash the Stampede, that's when I noticed the red jacket you were wearing, so I figured that you were my friend Vash, who has a bit of a bounty on his head, so, of course I knocked the two off of you. Then I noticed that you were not Vash, which is just as good, because if he found out that someone else had died by mistake because of his. transgressions. he would charge himself the blame, which would way even more on his already heavy conscience, he feels bad enough as it is. That is why he is helping me get you back into good health. Well, that's the gist of what happened. Did that clear things up for you?" "Yes, thank you. How big of a bounty does your friend have on his head?" "60 billion double dollars." His eyes seem to jump out of there sockets. "That's, a lot of money." "Hey! Don't go getting any ideas!" "No never! I wouldn't even think of betraying someone who has helped save my life!" "Good." Long silence. "Wolfwood?" "Yeah?" "Thank you, for everything, I am in your dept."
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I actually liked that chapter better than the first, hope you guys did too. Please review, NO FLAMERS! Thank you, and thanks for reading my story.
I finally decided on a plot, it was inspired by an Oscar Wilde short story by the same name as this story "The Sphinx without a Secret." Hope you like this chapter, please read and review!
************************************************************************
He woke up suddenly, to the feeling of a sudden fall. The dream had been horrible, he had been mistaken for some outlaw, he couldn't even remember the name, and then he had been shot. He was sweating like mad, and the sweat was as cold as ice, his entire body was numb and didn't want to respond, so he just laid their and looked around the room, wondering where he was, moving only his head and eyes. The room was small, the once white wallpaper now peeling, the bed looked to be the only thing in the room, there was only one door, and no windows, he could hear low talking through the closed door. He gradually regained feeling to his body; it came in the form of a dull ache. He slowly started to sit up, about halfway to a sitting position, his left side suddenly erupted into a sharp, searing pain, kind of like a paper cut but a hundred times worse. (If that's even possible) He instantly shifted his weight to his right side, bring his left hand up to grab at his left side, no sooner did he start the maneuver but his shoulder and an area dangerously close to his throat exploded with pain, his left arm went completely without sensation instantly, buckling under even the small weight he was putting on it. He let out a long, low scream, through clinched teeth, falling back onto the bed, his breathing now harsh and labored. He didn't even notice when the door suddenly came crashing in, his senses completely deadened to the outside world, all that he could hear was his heart beating loudly, pounding in his head, he eyes closed tightly against the pain that racked his body, all his other sense turned inward, concentrating on the pain that felt like it would devour him. Finally, he could see, well, sort of, his eyes were being wrenched open by somebody; he looked into the face of a tall, dark man, he looked like a priest, he suddenly remembered his "dream", maybe it wasn't a dream after all, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a new wave of pain seared its way through his body. He curled himself into a tight ball; all it served to do was injure him further, tearing his wounds farther open. The he heard someone yelling, though he didn't know how he could hear anything over his own heart beat. It was the priest; he was yelling "Vash! Come over hear and help me! We need to get him to stop moving around so much!" At the name Vash, he stopped moving around, ignored most of the pain that was gradually beginning to lighten, Vash? Wasn't that what one of the attackers in my dream had called me, no; it wasn't a dream, that's for sure. He then felt hands on him, laying him flat on his back, stopping him from moving even the tiniest bit. He slowly opened his eyes, the lids hurt from being pressed together so hard, he looked down, realized he was still struggling on instinct, he slowly stopped himself, he looked at the two men that held him down. Indeed one was the one who had saved in what he had thought had been a dream. The other was a tall man with spiky blonde hair, and an odd red coat. The priest was looking at him with genuine concern. He leaned forward, his cross around his neck hanging down, almost touching the bed. "You need to stop struggling kid, your just gonna make it worse on yourself." He couldn't help but interpret that as a threat, his body tensing, he didn't care that it made his shoulder and side hurt even more. "No you idiot! I won't do anything to you! You going to tear yourself apart, your beat up pretty bad, it's a miracle you're even still alive!" the priest said, exasperated. He relaxed again with a relieved sigh. Only then did he notice the warm feeling spreading through his shoulder and side, he looked down and saw blood quickly spreading through bandaged he had also previously overlooked. He laid back once again, exhausted, he quickly fell into an uneasy sleep, the other two were talking amongst themselves, something about more bandages.
He woke up again a few hours later, his bandages replaced with fresh ones. "Welcome back!" He easily recognized the voice of the priest, he started to sit up but there was a hand on his chest the second he started moving, pushing him back down. "Don't think so. remember what happened last time?" He did, a little to vividly, he gladly laid back, making himself comfortable, he turned his head so he can looking at the man who had done so much for him for no reason at all. At the moment he didn't care why, as much as whom. "Who are you?" he said, surprised at how weak he sounded, then he realized how weak he actually was at the moment, he couldn't sit up, and judging by how tired he was, he probably could if he tried. The other man stood, performing an almost comically short bow. "Wolfwood's the name." "Pleasure to meet you.Wolfwood was it? My name is Murgen." He slowly extended his right hand, careful not to hurt himself any further. Wolfwood took it, shook it lightly, ever mindful of the others wounds. "Would you mind telling me exactly what happened? I am a bit hazy on the details." A solemn nod. "Of course. I was doing my nightly errands..ok, I was barhopping, when I heard gunfire, there wasn't much, so I figure someone was severely hurt, or dead. So I got over to where the shots had originated from, and saw two men mercilessly, kicking something on the ground, that something ended up being you. Then I saw one draw a gun, and lean over you, he then said something about Vash the Stampede, that's when I noticed the red jacket you were wearing, so I figured that you were my friend Vash, who has a bit of a bounty on his head, so, of course I knocked the two off of you. Then I noticed that you were not Vash, which is just as good, because if he found out that someone else had died by mistake because of his. transgressions. he would charge himself the blame, which would way even more on his already heavy conscience, he feels bad enough as it is. That is why he is helping me get you back into good health. Well, that's the gist of what happened. Did that clear things up for you?" "Yes, thank you. How big of a bounty does your friend have on his head?" "60 billion double dollars." His eyes seem to jump out of there sockets. "That's, a lot of money." "Hey! Don't go getting any ideas!" "No never! I wouldn't even think of betraying someone who has helped save my life!" "Good." Long silence. "Wolfwood?" "Yeah?" "Thank you, for everything, I am in your dept."
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I actually liked that chapter better than the first, hope you guys did too. Please review, NO FLAMERS! Thank you, and thanks for reading my story.
