I apologize for the somewhat long wait. I've written the entire story, but there are some procedural things that are absorbing time. Some good friends of mine were pretty sick as well. Hopefully, after this I should be able to update weekly, as usual. Which means this won't go very long, as there aren't that many chapters.



Anyway, if you've been annoyed because you have no idea what's going on, fear not. This chapter gets you more or less in the know. For that matter, it marks a significant shift in the story, and the (hopefully) graceful exits of several characters. Personally, I rank this chapter fairly high compared to the others. But I digress.



-



Chapter 2: Experiment Terminus



Slipping into the tent, Marianne carefully scanned the area around her. Rough place, obviously, but nothing too dangerous. No one was likely to attack anyone else, at least not in the open. Therefore it was an excellent place to begin her investigation.

Just the change of clothing made her feel infinitely better. Finally out of the office, she returned to her loose fitting red outfit. Much better suited for combat. Of course, it wouldn't be wise to flash her sheriff's badge around, so that was well concealed. Meanwhile, she felt completely ready for anything that could stand in her way.

This tent served as a makeshift bar for the caravan, she had quickly learned. It had taken her a day to travel here, but she had used that time to get briefed on all information regarding the case. Apparently there were some high level outlaws here, though they were keeping a low profile. If they didn't get in her way, they weren't her problem, at least not on this assignment.

Sitting down at a table, Marianne ordered a generic drink and began scanning the bar. Surely someone here had important information. Of course, it was a matter of being able to pull it off without drawing attention to herself. Perhaps later, when everyone was drunker. She wasn't exactly sure what sort of heat the leaders of this caravan were packing, but she didn't want to find out later.

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Startled, Marianne turned to see who had spoken. A well dressed man in a dark suit slipped into the seat next to her. The first thing she noticed about him was the giant cross he carried on his back and the cross cufflinks. A man of the cloth, here? With a pick up line, no less?

"Perhaps I should rephrase that," he told her, voice dropping dangerously low. "What's a cop like you doing in a place like this?"

"What?" How could he possibly have known? This was no ordinary priest, obviously.

"Quiet," he told her. "I trust you don't want to draw attention to yourself."

"Am I really that obvious?"

"No." The priest pulled an already used cigarette from his pocket and relit it. "But I'm good with this sort of thing."

"Who are you?"

"Name's Nicholas. Nicholas Wolfwood. Pleased to meet you." He shifted his cigarette to his other hand and extended it to shake with her. She did so reluctantly. His grip was dry and firm, the grip of an honest man, not a criminal. Then again, should she expect less from a priest? Of course, in a quick glance she was relatively certain he was carrying a concealed gun. This guy was a strange case, in every sense of the word.

"I'm Marianne."

"I see. With the Police Department?" His voice was soft, audible only to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she worried about what other people would think, but at the moment she was too focused. Obviously, this guy knew something. And he was apparently uninterested in blowing her cover.

"Yeah."

"Whatever for?"

"Slave trade."

"Ah." Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Wolfwood paused for a moment. Then he casually gestured toward a young girl dancing on the impromptu stage that had been set up in the bar. "If what you say is true, I'm pretty sure she's a slave. I have no information myself, mind you, but I've been suspicious for a while."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Hey, that's my job, right?" For a moment he grinned, but his face became deadly serious the next second. "You do realize that these people live off the slave trade, right? Without it they'll have no way to survive."

"They'll have to find one."

"That's cold hearted."

"I'll make sure they get to a safe location where they can try to find a new way of life."

"I see. Perhaps." Puffing on his cigarette, Wolfwood sat in silence for a few moments. Marianne silently thanked her luck. What were the chances she'd run into him here?

"Thanks, really."

"Not a problem. You remind me of someone I knew once. He'd be the sort to try and save both sides. Really nice fellow, though he had a mean gun arm." At this Wolfwood smiled as though something was somewhat humorous. Marianne barely noticed, instead thinking of his description. It sounded so much like him...

"He didn't by any chance have blond hair and wear a long red coat, did he?"

Instantly Wolfwood's eyes narrowed. What did she know about Vash? This alone gave him an ominous feeling. Why would a sheriff speak about an outlaw that way? Unless she really didn't know it was him.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Wolfwood answered cautiously. He was treading a fine line here. The mention of Vash's name might cause problems, and he still had no idea what was going on. Idly he wondered what the chances were that she'd arrest him if she knew. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

"Oh, I just met him a long time ago." Marianne smiled, somewhat dreamily. Wolfwood fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. He'd seen that starry-eyed look before. Well, Vash, he thought, you apparently leave a legacy behind you. At least this answered his initial question. Assuming she wasn't just doing a very good acting job.

"How'd that happen?" Wolfwood asked her. It never hurt to make sure.

"What about you?"

"I asked first!"

"I'm the police officer!"

Chuckling slightly, Wolfwood shook his head. Undoubtedly, they weren't being cautious enough. But at the level of a barest whisper, the chances of their conversation being overheard were slim indeed. Of course, this probably looked really bad, especially for a priest. It didn't matter, he'd lived through worse.

"Fine. He ran into me in the desert, saved my hide. We ended up working together to save some kid. He's a great guy, really. Amazing shot with a gun, when he's only fighting machines. Doesn't like to kill, though."

"Yeah, I got that impression. Really nice guy."

"Don't dodge my question. It's your turn."

"Oh, right. I was sheriff in a town, you know, before the Police Department and all that. There was a pretty bad situation, with a man exploiting the water supply to control the town. He and I ended up in the same place coincidentally. I thought he was an absolute idiot at first, and he really annoyed me. But now I think that was just an act, just like I was acting my own part. When it came down to business, he was pretty serious. And tough."

"That's him alright." Despite himself, Wolfwood felt a small smile beginning to creep on his face. He shouldn't, but he really liked Vash.

Suddenly Marianne thought of something. Maybe she could put an issue that had long been in her mind to rest. "Do you know his name?"

There was a long pause as Wolfwood considered his answer carefully. To hide the fact that he was struggling to pull together a response, he dropped his cigarette butt to the floor and ground it out with his foot. Lord, forgive me...

"Sorry, haven't the faintest idea. He likes to be enigmatic, is my guess."

"That's a shame." She honestly looked sad. Perhaps he was too trusting, but Wolfwood decided that she honestly was stricken with him. He understood how that could happen, though it was extremely ironic that it was a police officer.

"Don't you have a job to do or something?" he asked. She nodded, smile fading from her face.

"Right. I might see you again. I'll see what I can find out."

"Go with the grace of God."

With that she slipped away, leaving Wolfwood alone at the table. Leaning back, he stayed silent for a moment, then flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink. No more serious business for tonight.

"Hey, it's Wolfwood!" a voice called, from all the way across the bar. For a second Wolfwood couldn't place it, though the tone nagged at his memory. Just before he fixed his gaze on the frantically waving figure, however, he remembered. Milly? She was one of the two insurance agents who had been following Vash around... did that mean the man himself was here?

"Yo," he said casually, gesturing for them to come. Meryl was there too, on the opposite side of a less than enthusiastic looking Vash. Wolfwood instantly realized they'd managed to drag him along one way or another. Still, he seemed to be in a bad mood, or at least more upset than normal. That didn't seem natural for Vash at all. The three of them sat down at the same table Wolfwood occupied.

"Hello, Mr. Wolfwood," Meryl greeted him politely. Wolfwood just nodded to her.

"Hey, Vash. Haven't seen you in a long time." The man in question took off his glasses to nod to Wolfwood, slipping them into a pocket of his jacket.

"Ssh!" Meryl glared at him. "If everyone in this camp knew that Vash the Stampede was here, there'd be pandemonium! Don't mention his name!" Vash shot her an annoyed look, but she wasn't turned in his direction and missed it.

"Whatever." Wolfwood shrugged. What was that look supposed to mean? "How's it going?"

"Actually, we shouldn't discuss it here," Meryl said nervous. "Maybe we should go back."

"Why is that, Meryl?" Milly asked innocently. Meryl gestured slightly in the direction of a few tables looking in their direction.

"We draw attention, and if they recognize who Vash is..."

"Quite right," Wolfwood interrupted. "Do you guys have another tent or something?"

"No, we just rented a room in the nearby city until the caravan moves on. But it's probably safer than here."

"Sure. Let's go." Pushing back his chair, Wolfwood drank his glass dry. Paying his tab quickly, he followed them from the tent. Hefting his cross onto his shoulder, Wolfwood followed them, a single question leaving his mind no rest: what was wrong with Vash?



"I'm through with this," Vash said simply.

"Can you believe it?" Meryl asked Wolfwood, quite rhetorically. "Vash wants to just up and leave, and never see us again? What about our jobs?"

"Yeah!" Milly agreed enthusiastically, coming up behind them. The other three were sitting at a table in the small room they had rented. It was small for four people, but Wolfwood had his own accommodations. For now, it was a good place to meet. Setting down a bottle and four glasses in front of Vash, Milly beamed at him. "Just be friendly and have a drink with us, will you, Mr. Vash the Stampede?"

"...fine." Grabbing the bottle with what Wolfwood judged to be just a bit too much force, Vash poured the wine into each of the four glasses. Taking his, Wolfwood glanced at it and swirled it in his glass, like a proper connoisseur. Theatrically he put the glass to his lips and drank.

"Is it good, Mr. Priest?" Milly asked. He nodded.

"Nice vintage."

"Good!" Milly promptly grabbed her glass and drained it dry. With a slight roll of the eyes, Meryl took hers at a more relaxed pace. Meanwhile, Vash just toyed with his glass, completely uninterested. As weird as he was acting, this didn't surprise Meryl one bit. At least he had taken a glass. Small steps.

"So now, what's the trouble?" Wolfwood asked them. Meryl took a sip from her glass and a few moments to clear her thoughts.

"I don't understand what's wrong with you," she said, directing her comment in Vash's direction. "If you're really innocent, and not the legendary Vash the Stampede, then why does it matter if we follow you?"

"Do I have to explain my reasons to you?" Vash asked, voice cold. "I'm not accountable to you. Go back to your superiors and tell them that the human typhoon got away from you."

"I can't do that! It wouldn't be true! Besides, I think that if I got the proper evidence, I could show them that Vash the Stampede isn't really all that bad."

"You could, could you?"

"Both of you, stop bickering," Wolfwood interjected. Something was definitely weird about Vash; he wasn't acting as happy and naive as usual. Whatever it was, it escaped Wolfwood, and he resolved not to bother himself about it for now. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced back and forth at the two of them.

"I feel kind of funny," Milly suddenly commented, smiling happily. "It's not that late, but I'm feeling a bit tired. That's odd."

"Me too," Meryl gave a huge yawn. "This argument isn't over. I'm not sleeping until I make you agree with m..." her words trailed off as she slumped to the table.

"You're silly," Milly told her, a grin on her face. Seconds after, she also fell to the table. Vash merely glanced down at both of them, and his gaze slid up to Wolfwood. There was a very long moment of silence, in which neither of them spoke. Pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, Wolfwood casually lit it, then held it in his mouth, glancing at Vash with hooded eyes.

"You didn't kill them, did you?" he asked, voice deadly serious. Vash shook his head.

"It would have been pointless. Why aren't you asleep?"

"Call me paranoid, I guess. I didn't take a sip of that wine. Pretty slick, by the way, I didn't even see you do it."

"Thanks, I guess." Pulling his glasses from his pocket, Vash put them on. He left them resting on the end of his nose, however, so he could still look Wolfwood in the eyes. "Are you going to try to stop me?"

"Of course not. It's your life, and I'm not the type to meddle."

"Good." Vash began to get up from his seat, Wolfwood extended a hand in his way.

"Wait a second. I'm gonna let you go and all, but do me a favor and explain a few things to me. What exactly is going on here?"

Returning to his seat, Vash glanced at Wolfwood. For a moment he paused, as if considering, then nodded slowly. "I don't want to waste time. What do you want to know?"

"Nothing much. But you look like you have a weight on your back, man, what is it?"

"Are you going to make me pay for a confessional?"

Smirking, Wolfwood shook his head. "Just talk to me. As a person, not a priest."

"Good." Vash was silent a second longer. "What's my name?"

"Vash."

A slight smile appeared on Vash's features. It wasn't his usual grin, just the barest trace of a smile. Somehow, Wolfwood felt that he really wouldn't like it if that smile was aimed maliciously at him. Vash seemed like a different person than before. Already he'd drugged two other people. Why Vash was smiling, Wolfwood had no idea.

"I have to ask you a question."

"Anything," Vash offered.

"I want to know how much you actually did. I've always thought you weren't responsible for that whole July City thing. But what's the truth?"

Immediately Vash's expression became grim. "It wasn't my fault. But I was the one who did it."

"So you didn't destroy a city of people just for kicks?"

"What would have been the point?" Vash asked him. Wolfwood nodded.

"But you've had bounty hunters on your tail ever since. You'd think by now they'd get the fact that you aren't really a dangerous killer and give up. But there's still a massive legend about you. I mean, everyone knows about Vash the St-"

Vash's fist hit the table hard, ending Wolfwood's sentence abruptly. The priest's cigarette hung loosely in his mouth, his expression slack with shock. That was completely unlike Vash. Slowly, things began to come together for him.

"Tell me about it," Wolfwood asked understandingly. Vash nodded in response, his eyes had calmed down once more. Still, it was a cold, calculating calm. Completely unlike the Vash he knew. Or thought he knew.

"Ever since then, everyone has called me the humanoid typhoon. Or the localized disaster. Or the $$60 billion man. Or Vash the Stampede. That isn't my name."

Wolfwood's suspicions came together for certain. He nodded slowly, a sad smile gracing his features. So that was what it was.

"It's always like that, isn't it? Everyone calls you Vash the Stampede. They acknowledge the legend, nothing more."

"Why can't someone just call me Vash?" he asked, voice almost desperate, "Every time anyone says my name, there's always something tacked on after it. For once, I'd like to hear nothing after my name. Just nothing. Which is why I have to thank you, Wolfwood."

"Sure thing." Taking a drag on his cigarette, Wolfwood carefully considered the new information he had been given. So that was the way things were. It explained a lot. He snuffed the cigarette, waiting for Vash to continue.

"I thought that if people didn't feel threatened by me, they might call me by my name. Which is why I went to great lengths to stay with the two of them. They were going to follow me anyway. I did everything I could to seem unthreatening. I acted like an idiot, I routinely made a fool of myself, I tried to be as human as possible, I adopted a completely pacifist viewpoint. Do you know what? It didn't matter. I'll always be Vash the Stampede to them. Now I'm just a tame legend."

"So I take it you aren't exactly tame?"

"July City wasn't my fault," Vash told him, "but other things are."

Both of them remained in silence for a moment longer. Then Vash pushed his reflective glasses back up, hiding his eyes from view. In the same movement, he rose from his chair, heading to the door. Before he could make his exit, however, Wolfwood stopped him.

"Wait a sec. Is the bottle drugged?"

"Only the glasses."

"Good." Wolfwood grabbed the bottle and took a deep swig of it. "What do you know, I didn't lie. It is a good vintage."

"Goodbye, Wolfwood," Vash said, his hand on the doorknob. Putting a foot up on the table, Wolfwood smiled after him.

"I like you, Vash, I really do. I wish you luck."

"Thanks." Then he was gone, vanishing out the door. Wolfwood found himself alone with the remainder of the bottle of wine, the only sound around him Milly's faint snoring.



The wind picked up again, blowing the clothes of the priest in every direction. He ignored it completely, trudging across the desert, cross over his shoulder. Wolfwood stopped for a moment, dropping his cigarette to the ground. Perhaps he should cut back on those.

By this point he was far from the city. He knew where he was, but it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't. The old life didn't matter.

"D*** you, Legato!" he shouted to the empty air. "And go to h***, Chapel! I'm a minister, so that probably means something!" The words faded into the wind.

Feeling better after his outburst, Wolfwood moved on. That was all over. Time for a fresh start. Now he would have to find a place where they couldn't find him, where he could do something worthwhile. Maybe he could start another orphanage. A slow smile began to creep on his face: he had just the place.

Soon the billowing sands swallowed up the retreating form of the priest.

The world appeared slowly, coming up from the darkness. Milly sat up in bed, glancing around her. For a few seconds the world spun violently, making her fear that she would be sick. Shaking her head violently to clear it, Milly glanced about her cheerfully.

"Wow, I feel really funny! We must have gotten really drunk last night!"

"No." Glancing about for the source of the voice, Milly eventually focused on a darker corner of the room. Meryl was sitting at a small table, her head in her arms.

"Morning, Meryl!" Milly greeted her cheerily, hopping out of bed. There was no reply from Meryl, who didn't move. "What's wrong?" Milly asked, the realization finally breaking through to her that something wasn't right.

"He's gone."

"What?" Glancing about, Milly found that Vash and Wolfwood were nowhere to be seen. "That's funny. Weren't they here last night before we got drunk and passed out?"

"We weren't drunk, Milly." Meryl's voice was muffled by the table, but it was obviously annoyed, and perhaps a bit bitter. "We were drugged. And then he left."

"That's alright, we'll just follow the caravan, then! He said he was going there!"

"Milly... what time is it?"

"I have no idea," she responded, as buoyant as ever. "What time is it?"

"A bit past noon. They're gone. The caravan is far out of sight, and I have no idea which way they were going. He got away this time."

"Oh." For a few moments Milly was crestfallen, slowly processing what had been told her. Meryl made no movement during this time, saying nothing. Eventually Milly brightened again. "That's alright! We're just going to follow him again, right?"

Meryl's only response was to shove something in Milly's direction. A bit confused, Milly picked up the sheet of paper, reading the contents carefully.

Due to recent circumstances, the corporation has determined that all damages caused by the individual known as Vash the Stampede are no longer our responsibility. As such, monitoring of this individual and damage prevention in related issues are no longer necessary. Both agents assigned to aforementioned job are required to return to headquarters within three days, with a full report completed.

"What does that mean, Meryl?" Milly asked, not wanting to acknowledge the truth. Brushing dark hair from her eyes, Meryl glanced up at her partner sadly, eyes glistening.

"It means it's over, Milly. It's over."