Chapter 1: Unwanted meetings
Location: 65th Precinct, July City Police Department(JCPD)
It's the last few days of August. The summer is slowly leaving; the cold is starting to settle in. It looked like any other average day until the twins walked in.
Both are tall, blond haired and carry confident expressions. There was one with spiky hair, sunglasses, bluish green eyes and a geranium red trench coat. The other is less ostentatious. His hair is platinum blond, and cut short. The eyes are an icy blue. He wore a plain blue-green pilot suit.
The man in the red trench coat was the first to see the secretary sitting on the front desk. She is older than the dinosaurs and thinner than a broom stick. Chances are, doesn't even remember what she did in her day. She reeks of cigarettes and coffee. The brothers, while having their distinct differences both have one more similarity to add to that really short list of agreements: this lady should not be working. The man in the green pilot suit thinks she should drop dead but that stunt is not worth upsetting his brother.
"We're here for an appointment with High Marshall Dolt." Spoke the man in the red trench coat.
"You must be Knives?" asked the rickety secretary.
"No, that is him." Vash corrected and pointed at Knives.
"Sorry, I thought Knives would be a rebel-looking hoodlum that looks like you." Replied the secretary. It's hard to tell whether or not she was joking or pissed off at all the miscreants she dealt with before but that doesn't matter to Knives. Whatever her reason for saying what she said, Knives lost it and blew his lid.
"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING JUDGE US, HUMAN PIECE OF SHIT!" yelled an enraged demonic Knives.
"KNIVES!" yelled a stern Vash. "What did I tell you about lashing out?"
Knives paused for a second and calmed down a notch. In a lower than expected voice, Knives replied "Sorry, Vashu. She went out of line discriminating you and my name. Don't you think so as well?"
Vash ignored the last question out of politeness. "Whatever the case maybe, losing your temper is not the solution." Vash reprimanded.
The secretary broke the would-be awkward silence. "Uh, I'll go call up High Marshall Dolt, please wait a moment. Can I get you gentlemen any food or drink?"
Vash's expression lit up like a bulb "OKAY! I'll have a Kuroneko Beer and a plate of donuts!"
The ancient secretary asked Knives apprehensively, obviously afraid of another outburst. The secretary wondered if Knives had Torette's Syndrome where a person has uncontrollable strong verbal outbursts.
The angry brother grunted and looked away. The secretary was about to go get Vash's demands fulfilled when Knives simply said "A glass of water and a nutrition bar."
Moments later, Knives was eating his nutrition bar nonchalantly and sipping water like he was drinking shots. Knives still has an agitated look on his face, combined with a contemplating expression.
Vash was wolfing down the donuts like the world is about to end at any moment with a dorky smile on his face and tears rolling out of his eyes. (Hey, can't leave the world with an empty stomach, ya know, even if the situation is hypothetical) He downed the beer and was about to ask for more when High Marshall Dolt came in to the room.
Both brothers, even Knives stopped eating and drinking. Adding yet another line to the slowly but steadily growing list of agreements is how High Marshall Dolt got his title.
This time, Knives began the small talk. Knives telepathically said to his brother.
Not wanting to insult, he replied Enough said.
High Marshall Dolt is anything but what his title declares. He's certainly not a huge tall marshal but some short, fat middle aged loser. His glasses resemble those of 3D goggles and he hacks like a smoker, because he is one. On his left hand is a marijuana joint, on his right is a disheveled clipboard. About the only accurate thing about his name is his last name. This guy indeed is a dolt.
"Uh, who are.you?" he pointed at Knives. Knives looked like he is going to have an apoplexy but said "You requested our presence here?"
"Oh." He zoned off for a moment before realizing he was suppose to look at the clipboard. When he realized he was suppose to, he dropped the clipboard. He started to bend down and pick it up but thought better of it and took a hit off the joint instead.
Vash himself looked annoyed. He picked up the clipboard and was surprised to even see that this dolt even got the correct information about the case. "He probably decided to smoke up after he got all his info together." Vash thought with wonder.
He flipped through the pages. When he was finished with one, he gave it to Knives to read.
The following basically summed up what the plant brothers have to do. There is a crook with immense powers on the loose. Its last know whereabouts is St Savarem's Academy. The job at hand for Vash and Knives is to enroll in the school and see what is going on without disrupting the lives of the faculty and students. The JCPD will pay all expenses, such as tuition, uniform and books. However, a weapon is unavailable, we have to get our own.
(Like I need their fucking guns, I got my own arsenal.) Knives said arrogantly. It maybe over a hundred and forty years ago but he still gloats over the fact that he created the twin .45 Long Colts and carries with him a .357 Magnum revolver. For some reason, even after kicking his homicidal self to the curb, he still gets a kick out of carrying enough fire power to hold off a small army. This irritates Vash but if Knives knows that this is the case, he flips out that Vash never trusts him, even though he changed.
The brothers, especially Knives is very irritated by the smell of weed and wanted out as soon as possible. Even Vash, who somewhat got use to the smell of smoke from hanging around Wolfwood from before is annoyed at its odor. They signed the papers, gave them to the creaking secretary to look over and bolted, leaving a stoned-to-the-ground "High" Marshal Dolt to wonder what he was doing and how he got here.
Location: 65th Precinct, July City Police Department(JCPD)
It's the last few days of August. The summer is slowly leaving; the cold is starting to settle in. It looked like any other average day until the twins walked in.
Both are tall, blond haired and carry confident expressions. There was one with spiky hair, sunglasses, bluish green eyes and a geranium red trench coat. The other is less ostentatious. His hair is platinum blond, and cut short. The eyes are an icy blue. He wore a plain blue-green pilot suit.
The man in the red trench coat was the first to see the secretary sitting on the front desk. She is older than the dinosaurs and thinner than a broom stick. Chances are, doesn't even remember what she did in her day. She reeks of cigarettes and coffee. The brothers, while having their distinct differences both have one more similarity to add to that really short list of agreements: this lady should not be working. The man in the green pilot suit thinks she should drop dead but that stunt is not worth upsetting his brother.
"We're here for an appointment with High Marshall Dolt." Spoke the man in the red trench coat.
"You must be Knives?" asked the rickety secretary.
"No, that is him." Vash corrected and pointed at Knives.
"Sorry, I thought Knives would be a rebel-looking hoodlum that looks like you." Replied the secretary. It's hard to tell whether or not she was joking or pissed off at all the miscreants she dealt with before but that doesn't matter to Knives. Whatever her reason for saying what she said, Knives lost it and blew his lid.
"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING JUDGE US, HUMAN PIECE OF SHIT!" yelled an enraged demonic Knives.
"KNIVES!" yelled a stern Vash. "What did I tell you about lashing out?"
Knives paused for a second and calmed down a notch. In a lower than expected voice, Knives replied "Sorry, Vashu. She went out of line discriminating you and my name. Don't you think so as well?"
Vash ignored the last question out of politeness. "Whatever the case maybe, losing your temper is not the solution." Vash reprimanded.
The secretary broke the would-be awkward silence. "Uh, I'll go call up High Marshall Dolt, please wait a moment. Can I get you gentlemen any food or drink?"
Vash's expression lit up like a bulb "OKAY! I'll have a Kuroneko Beer and a plate of donuts!"
The ancient secretary asked Knives apprehensively, obviously afraid of another outburst. The secretary wondered if Knives had Torette's Syndrome where a person has uncontrollable strong verbal outbursts.
The angry brother grunted and looked away. The secretary was about to go get Vash's demands fulfilled when Knives simply said "A glass of water and a nutrition bar."
Moments later, Knives was eating his nutrition bar nonchalantly and sipping water like he was drinking shots. Knives still has an agitated look on his face, combined with a contemplating expression.
Vash was wolfing down the donuts like the world is about to end at any moment with a dorky smile on his face and tears rolling out of his eyes. (Hey, can't leave the world with an empty stomach, ya know, even if the situation is hypothetical) He downed the beer and was about to ask for more when High Marshall Dolt came in to the room.
Both brothers, even Knives stopped eating and drinking. Adding yet another line to the slowly but steadily growing list of agreements is how High Marshall Dolt got his title.
This time, Knives began the small talk. Knives telepathically said to his brother.
Not wanting to insult, he replied Enough said.
High Marshall Dolt is anything but what his title declares. He's certainly not a huge tall marshal but some short, fat middle aged loser. His glasses resemble those of 3D goggles and he hacks like a smoker, because he is one. On his left hand is a marijuana joint, on his right is a disheveled clipboard. About the only accurate thing about his name is his last name. This guy indeed is a dolt.
"Uh, who are.you?" he pointed at Knives. Knives looked like he is going to have an apoplexy but said "You requested our presence here?"
"Oh." He zoned off for a moment before realizing he was suppose to look at the clipboard. When he realized he was suppose to, he dropped the clipboard. He started to bend down and pick it up but thought better of it and took a hit off the joint instead.
Vash himself looked annoyed. He picked up the clipboard and was surprised to even see that this dolt even got the correct information about the case. "He probably decided to smoke up after he got all his info together." Vash thought with wonder.
He flipped through the pages. When he was finished with one, he gave it to Knives to read.
The following basically summed up what the plant brothers have to do. There is a crook with immense powers on the loose. Its last know whereabouts is St Savarem's Academy. The job at hand for Vash and Knives is to enroll in the school and see what is going on without disrupting the lives of the faculty and students. The JCPD will pay all expenses, such as tuition, uniform and books. However, a weapon is unavailable, we have to get our own.
(Like I need their fucking guns, I got my own arsenal.) Knives said arrogantly. It maybe over a hundred and forty years ago but he still gloats over the fact that he created the twin .45 Long Colts and carries with him a .357 Magnum revolver. For some reason, even after kicking his homicidal self to the curb, he still gets a kick out of carrying enough fire power to hold off a small army. This irritates Vash but if Knives knows that this is the case, he flips out that Vash never trusts him, even though he changed.
The brothers, especially Knives is very irritated by the smell of weed and wanted out as soon as possible. Even Vash, who somewhat got use to the smell of smoke from hanging around Wolfwood from before is annoyed at its odor. They signed the papers, gave them to the creaking secretary to look over and bolted, leaving a stoned-to-the-ground "High" Marshal Dolt to wonder what he was doing and how he got here.