I am REALLY sorry that it has taken so long to update, but such is the wims of my muse, and life. They've been conspiring to drop just about every form or writer's block there is into my path. Oh, well. I'll try to do better with my future updates.
When Vash arrived in Inepril City on the sand steamer, he arrived alone. It had taken a lot of work, but he had convinced Milly and Meryl to take a different, smaller steamer that would arrive several hours after he had. Before they had split, they had agreed on which hotel he would rent the rooms from so that they would know where to meet him.
He wore his signature hair style and sunglasses, but his clothes were still what Meryl had bought for him. Also, he didn't have any kind of luggage with him at all; he knew that Meryl would be angry with him, but he would have to buy some new clothing before she arrived.
The gunman paused at the bottom of the sand steamer's off ramp to look around. He could see the bustling activity of the town's vendors as they tried to hawk their goods, seeming invigorated with the arrival of tourists on the massive vehicle.
To his surprise, he saw the town's chairman, a short balding man, standing about thirty feet away from him. The other man was anxiously scanning the crowd, intently looking for someone.
Vash suddenly had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stooped forward, running his hands through his hair to flatten it down. Now moving with a shuffling walk, he tried to make his way past the chairman, keeping at least four people between them at all times.
Once he had made it past the other man, he straightened back up and began walking normally. He quickly made his way to a hotel on the edge of town, and paid for two rooms. The feeling in the pit of his stomach fluttered when the inn keeper gave him a piercing look, commenting on how much like Vash the Stampede he looked.
After checking over his rooms, he went out in search of a clothing store. Inside, and dealing with another person giving him strange looks, he purchased some jeans and a handful of white button up shirts with a pair of suspenders.
Back at the hotel room, Vash quickly went about changing his appearance once again. When his hair was completely down, the tips of it nearly reached his shoulders. Dressed in the white shirt, jeans, and overalls, he was swiftly reminded of the time he had spend with a young girl named Lina and her grandmother after the incident in Augusta. The gunman turned his eyes skyward and said a quick prayer for them.
A knock at the door sounded just as he finished his prayer. Vash, in the guise of Ericks, shuffled over to the door and pulled it open. Standing on the other side was the city's chairman and his right hand man.
"You see, Chairman," the tall, brown haired man addressed his shorter superior, "it's just as I said. Vash the Stampede."
The short, balding man had a confused look on his face as he gave Vash the once over. "It doesn't look like I remember," he mumbled.
Vash stepped through the door and closed it behind him, throwing a worried glance down the hallway. "Vash the Stampede, you say?" he asked. "Here? Where?"
The taller man now looked worried. "Well, you are Vash. Aren't you?"
With a surprised look on his face, the gunman took a stumbled step backward. "Me?" he asked with a squeak in his voice. "No, no, no. I'm Ericks, from the town of Kasted," he corrected, shaking his head.
The chairman suddenly had a worried look on his face. "Oh, dear," he murmured under his breath. "That man is not going to like hearing this."
At the chairman's words, Vash perked up a little. "Sorry you can't deliver your message, Sir," he said. "Really, I hope I never see Vash the Stampede, but if I do I will let him know you are looking for him."
The chairman's aide threw Vash a sour look as he led the chairman away. "If we're still alive." Vash could barely hear the words, they were spoken so quietly.
When the two city officials were out of sight around the corner, Vash straightened up and frowned. What are they talking about? he wondered. Why are they afraid for their lives? Could Wolfwood still be looking for me?
Vash turned on his heel and opened the door to his room. The girls, he knew, should be arriving at almost any moment. He stepped through the open doorway and quietly shut the door behind him.
A sense of wrongness nearly overwhelmed the freeborn plant. He turned around slowly, scanning the room until his gaze came to rest on the now open window and the lounge chair next to it.
"I wondered if those two fools would actually be able to find you," Wolfwood said, his hand resting on his cross. The large gun was standing up next to the lounge chair he was sitting in. In his lap rested Vash's two large handguns.
The sixty billion double dollar man spread his hands. "I'm not surprised," he said. "I didn't really take the time to work up a decent disguise. Last time I was here, they knew me before they even saw me."
The ex-priest shook his head. "With as clumsy as you are, it's no wonder that you have all of those scars on your body. The wonder is that you are still alive."
Vash dropped his hands to his sides. "You obviously aren't here to kill me," he changed the subject, taking a step forward. "If that was your goal, you would have done it already."
Wolfwood clapped his hands together and picked up the pistols on his lap. "That's right," he answered, standing up. He took a couple of steps forward and offered the two weapons to Vash. "I am here to deliver a message."
Out in the hallway, Vash could hear the footsteps and voices of the two insurance girls. "And that message is . . ."
A crooked smile creased the other man's lips. "Your brother wishes to have your company."
Vash almost dropped the two guns. "Impossible," he stuttered. "I watched him die. He can't want to see me."
The sudden knock on the room's door barely registered on either man. "Vash? Are you in there?" Meryl's muffled voice made it through the thick wood.
"Your choice is simple," Wolfwood continued, not missing a beat. "If you wish for the women to live, you will slip out during the night, and meet me in front of the town's Plant at dawn. If I see them following, they will die and I will still take you to Knives."
The blonde gunman turned his head to look at the door, where Meryl was incessantly knocking. When he turned back, the dark haired ex-priest was gone, along with his weapon of choice.
Shaking his head, Vash turned back around and opened the door. Millie came through first, nearly running to flop down on the room's second bed.
"What's wrong?" Meryl asked when she saw the confused and serious expression on her lover's face.
Remembering Wolfwood's warning concerning the women, Vash shook his head. "It's nothing. Just that the chairman and his aide almost recognized me."
Meryl arched an eyebrow. "Looking like a redneck?" she asked teasingly.
Vash gave into her attempt to lighten his mood. "Are you two hungry?" he asked. "We can go out and hit a restaurant."
Both women, the one standing and the one lying down, shook their heads. "We're pooped, Mr. Vash," Millie spoke up. "It's almost evening anyways. We just want to sleep." Meryl nodded her agreement.
The gunman helped the two women put away their luggage, then the three of them laid down to sleep. He waited until he was sure that both women were deep asleep before he made his move.
Once again dressed in the clothes that Meryl had bought for him, Vash quietly let himself out of the room through the door. Patting his two shoulder holsters to reassure himself that his pistols were available, he half walked half jogged through the hotel.
When he arrived at the plant, it was still several hours before dawn. After looking around to reassure himself that Wolfwood was nowhere nearby, the tall, blonde man made his way inside. Moving quietly to avoid alerting the plant workers to his presence, he made his way to the center of the installation.
Shutting the steel door behind himself, the gunman looked up at the massive egg-shaped construct in the center of the room. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he walked over to it, touching his hand to it's side.
I need to speak with you, he sent the thought.
Through the milky cloudiness of the tank, a delicate hand touched the glass on the other side, as though trying to touch him. I haven't seen you in a while, Brother, the plant's voice was a whisper in his mind. To you I owe my life and my thanks. You gave me energy when no one else could.
Vash allowed the warmth of her thanks to wash through them. I am sorry to interrupt you, Sister, but I need guidance.
The cloudiness dispersed somewhat, allowing Vash to look upon the plant's body. Off of her arms were wings which, when added to her delicate appearance, gave her the look of an angel. Although he couldn't see hair color, or eye color, and though she seemed exceedingly pale, there was no doubt as to either her femininity or the personality he was sensing.
The next thought to come across their bond was laughter. One of the freeborn seeking guidance from one of us?
You have lived for centuries longer than I, Vash reminded her. It is from that experience and knowledge that I need help.
She opened her hands and shrugged. Then ask what you will, and I will see how I can answer.
Vash took a moment to collect himself, then began. Several months ago, I allowed my brother to die.
Do not mince words, the female plant almost sounded harsh in her rebuke. You were responsible for his death. You caused it, not allowed it.
The gunman winced and looked at his feet, allowing his hand to drop to his side. It is so.
Now she waved her hand. This is no news to us. We felt him die. She paused. And yet, we feel him live.
Vash jerked his eyes back up to look at the plant. Then he still lives.
She nodded. Fortunately, yes. Unfortunately, yes.
Fortunately and unfortunately?
Now it was the plant's turn to pause. Even though he has spoken with us, your brother has never allowed himself to see truth. In his delusional hatred of mankind, he believes that we should also hate them.
Then it is not so?
No. We do not hate. We realize that we were made for this purpose, and we are content to fulfill that purpose. The ghost of a smile crossed her lips. All of those who live outside of time are in agreement on this. It falls to you to prevent what he would do. If he succeeds, he takes from us our purpose. That purpose is all we have.
Vash nodded and reached to touch the glass once again. That is our charge to you, she continued. Do not allow our purpose to be taken from us. You must go with this man, Wolfwood, who was your friend. You must stop Knives. Somehow.
The gunman nodded resignedly. It will be.
The cloud once again obscured his sight of his sister. He turned to leave, then looked back. "No matter the cost to me, it will be. I swear to you, I will take care of everything."
When he got back outside, the first light of dawn was just beginning to color the horizon. There, right in front of the door, stood Nicholas Wolfwood, leaning on the side of a car.
"I knew you would be here, Vash the Stampede," he said quietly, puffing on a cigarette. "I was also pretty sure that you would go in there to talk to her. Are you ready to go?"
Vash nodded and took a couple of steps forward. "And you swear not to harm the women?"
Wolfwood waved his hand. "As long as they stay asleep in the room where you left them, and they stay away from us, they will be unharmed."
The taller, blonde man brushed past the ex-priest and climbed in the passenger seat of the car. "Lets get going, then," he said. "You should know that those two are persistent."
The other man climbed into the driver's side, and in moments the car roared to life. It had just disappeared over the horizon when, to the side of the plant complex, another engine roared to life and headlights snapped on.
"Keep your eyes open, Millie," Meryl told her friend as she shifted the car into gear. "It's time for us to go."