The second to last chapter already. How time slips away from you. This is the chapter in which you finally get some answers as to what exactly is going on. Much will be explained, and our villains properly identified. You're still left in the dark as to all of Vash's past. But hey, Trigun did that to you as well.



Now, I'll warn everyone that I'm going to digress in this paragraph. I don't really support random rantings in stories, so I feel the need to inform you so that you can skip it if you wish. That being said, I'll answer to the person who said they like Vash lovable. Yes, I'm aware of this, it seems to be the dominant trend in society at the moment, particularly the Japanese brand. I can understand why a lovable protagonist can be a favorite. I'm afraid it really doesn't apply to me, however. Perhaps this reflects my general tendencies of stoicism and apathy, particularly toward emotion. So while Vash is not a ruthless, cold-hearted killer, if you refer to Vash as "lovable" in the way I believe you do, he's gone.



-



Chapter 5: Life to Ashes...

Dust blew past the jeep, the wind shield in the front blocking most of the sand. Marianne didn't bother to raise the top of the vehicle, letting the wind rush through her hair, blowing it back behind her. She didn't want to think about anything that had gone on before.

The situation that was before her had enough problems of its own. Deep inside her, Marianne realized that she didn't want to go back. She would just return to the office, return the mundane normalcy of office work. It wasn't the thrill of danger that drew her, she just wanted to accomplish something, to be able to save people, to do some good. What was she ever going to do there? Nothing, the answer came back, nothing.

What else are you going to do? a cynical voice inside her asked. The Police Department is the only option. All renegade sheriffs will be prosecuted. You're already in the trouble zone for staying out so much longer after your assignment. If Mr. Rowans ever gives you a mission again, you should count your blessings. And if any of them knew you were talking to Vash the Stampede...

No. That was enough. Marianne sighed heavily, trying to push all of this aside. It was a losing battle on her part. Why did he have to be the Stampede? Couldn't he just be a nice guy who happened to be an expert gunman? Everything would have worked out, but now it was over. Forever.

Just as it seemed she would continue wallowing in sorrow forever, an explosion struck the ground directly in front of the jeep. It turned violently, skidding over the sand and tipping. Acting on instinct, Marianne leapt free of the vehicle before it flipping over completely. Rolling, she managed to brunt most of the impact, the sand cushioning her fall.

She ended up on her back, just in time to see a gun aimed at her forehead. It was an all too common sight recently, it seemed.

"That's enough," a rough voice grated, coming from a source other than the holder of the gun. Not moving, Marianne tried to figure out who exactly she was dealing with. Two others walked up beside the man holding a gun to her head. Holding the gun was a giant of a man, with a massive claymore on his back. Why would anyone have a sword that big? Or a sword at all, for that matter.

"I said that's enough," the man on the left grated again. He wore pants and jacket in dark grey camouflage, looking for all the world like an army commander. Though he was a strapping figure, Marianne recognized that his primary weapon seemed to be a semi-automatic strapped across his back.

The last man was a thin, dangerous looking sleaze in a dark suit. There was the short stub of a cigarette in his libs, which he nervously moved across to the other side of his mouth every few seconds.

"I agree," he added. "No need for the guns here." The man in the middle grumbled, but put the gun away.

"Who are you?" Marianne demanded, emboldened now that she was no longer in danger of imminent death.

"We have been impolite, gentlemen," the sleaze murmured. "What do you say, commander?"

"Right." He turned to her, face deadly serious. "We're the Hitmen, the four most dangerous mercenaries on this quarter of the planet. I'm Donovan, the leader of this group."

"Cortez," the sleaze acknowledged, flicking a bit of ash from his cigarette.

"Ishmael," the giant of a man grumbled.

"Wait a second," Marianne broke in, "you said there were four of you. And what's with shooting down my jeep and then putting a gun to my head?"

"You will not receive answers to those question," a silky voice cut the others off, coming from behind her. Marianne tried to turn to see who it was, but not before she felt cool hands on her back and a needle sink into her arm. Her vision quickly grew dim, but she struggled to hold onto consciousness for a moment longer.

"The situation has changed," the soft voice continued. "Return with her to headquarters. Ishmael, find him and stop him."

Her grip on reality finally slipped, and the world distorted, then faded away.



Still groggy, Marianne glanced around her, eyes bleary. She could see little, but it soon became obvious that something was wrong. As her body came to, Marianne became acutely aware of the fact that she was bound to a stiff steel chair most uncomfortably.

Vision returning, Marianne glanced about her. She was inside an office, one she felt was vaguely familiar to her. Somehow, perhaps due to the drug, she couldn't place it. In any case, this situation was obviously bad. Who would be so interested in capturing her?

"So, you are awake." The voice came from directly in front of her. Marianne realized that her chair was placed immediately before a desk. Across the desk from her was a large leather chair, swivelled away from her so she could not see who was sitting within. For that matter, the voice that had spoken was one she felt as though she should recognize.

"Where am I?" she asked leadenly, weary of being dragged about against her will.

"You don't know? I'm ashamed of you, Marianne."

"How do you know my name?"

Whoever was in the chair laughed softly, and it nearly drove her mad. Suddenly, things seemed to come together for her, and all the elements tugging at the corners of her mind caught a hold at once. She knew where she was now, and the realization filled her with a slow dread. The man in the chair spun around to face her, but she already knew who he was.

"Welcome back," Mr. Rowans said coldly.



There was no battle cry; no warning save for the whistle of steel pushing air aside. It was enough. Ducking low to the ground, Vash evaded the large blade that flashed above his head. Already his opponent was bringing it around in an arc, to cleave him from above, but Vash easily jumped away from his attack.

As he landed Vash turned, quickly looking over his opponent. He was a huge man, wielding a massive claymore as if he knew how to use it. Most likely, he did. Again he attacked Vash, this time his attack was evaded with a quick jump away.

Continuing to dodge the attacks sent his way, Vash moved back, getting further and further from his opponent's range. When he was far enough, he abruptly pulled his gun, aiming it at his opponent's face. In midswing, he stopped, slowly lowering his blade to rest in the sand beneath him.

"Why did you attack me?" Vash demanded.

"My name is Ishmael. I am here to-"

"I don't care what your name is. Why?"

"You are Vash the Stampede, are you not?"

Vash made no response, just staring at him over his glasses. Ishmael grunted.

"As I thought. Why would anyone care about someone like you? The reward money, of course. But in my case I'm doing this for my boss."

"Who do you work for?" Vash probed. Ishmael shook his head.

"Why should I bother telling you that?"

"It depends if you want to live or not. Who?"

"Let's just say the Police Department is going to get really rich off this deal. That's enough for you to know, but it won't matter, once you're dead."

So. The Police Department. Vash's eyes narrowed. What would they possibly want with that much money? He knew the answer to that question, of course, but the more important question was why. Something was obviously not right here, the Police Department did not work with thugs like this. Unless, of course, they had drastically changed their policy.

"Tell me why."

"No," Ishmael said simply.

"I could shoot you."

"Hah! Sure, you could do that. But where would be the challenge in that? I come at you with a sword, you should respond in kind. If you have any honor at all, you will answer my challenge. How can you resist grappling with a master swordsman?"

In answer Vash fired a shot, killing him instantly. By the time his body hit the ground, Vash was already moving on, now in the opposite direction. Obviously, things were not yet right. Though he wasn't exactly certain what was going on, Vash knew that something was deeply wrong with the Police Department. And that was exactly where Marianne had been headed.

This is none of your business, a voice in his head told him. Stay out of things that don't concern you. Do you really want to keep having to go back to save people?

He told the voice to shut up.



"Why?" Marianne asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mr. Rowans said by way of response. "But I guess perhaps it isn't. First, though, tell me about where Vash the Stampede is."

"I have no idea! Do you think he just talks to me?"

"We have reason to believe he does. You do not know where he is?"

"No!"

"Fine." Mr. Rowans steepled his fingers before him, eyes narrowing as he considered for a moment. "We will have to... force this information out of you later. For now, I want you to know that you don't have to be harmed in all of this. You're a capable agent, and I'd hate to lose you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Allow me to explain. Do you know why I sent you on the mission to the slaver's caravan? The real reason, not for your job?"

Marianne shook her head mutely.

"I will have to go back even further to explain. Since I have risen to my position here, I have been operating for my own profit and the profit of a few close compatriots. Trying to impose law on this planet is nothing but a joke. With men being so naturally lawless, it is a futile effort. But we have the power, and what is the use of power if we do not use it?

"Through any methods possible, I've accumulated considerable wealth for myself. Because I control all sheriffs in the area, I am completely immune to any sort of retaliation from the law. That's why we took you out of your position as sheriff: you're too smart. You would have figured out what was going on. Shuffling you to the office worked for a while, but even there you very nearly uncovered some important information.

"So it was decided we had to do away with you. In retrospect, I understand this was a mistake, but at the time it seemed wise and many others were forcing my hand. I knew that Vash the Stampede would be in the caravan at the same time, and I hoped that you would meet him and be killed in the confrontation. No such thing occurred.

"With that plan failing, I opted to use more direct means. It occurred to me that it would be a terrible waste to lose you, when you could instead join us. Plus, you have a connection to Vash the Stampede, and if we collect the bounty on his head, we will gain a fortune's fortune. So I hired my Hitmen to bring you here, and I fear they used somewhat destructive means. They are only hired men, after all, not agents such as yourself.

"So what do you say? I can offer you great wealth, and, if you help us capture the human typhoon, wealth beyond your wildest dreams. It would be far better for us to be allies than enemies. What is your decision?"

During his entire monolog, Marianne had remained completely silent, stunned by the barrage of facts. Even as they buried her in a mountain of logic, other details began to come together. Minor things she would never have noticed before suddenly made sense in this context.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. If Mr. Rowans was not lying, than this section of the Police Department was nothing more than a face for the largest crime syndicate on the entire planet. Which would mean that it was just a lie. Everything she had worked for would be nothing more than a lie. She couldn't accept that. No. It couldn't be.

"My time is valuable, Miss Marianne," Mr. Rowans said, voice dropping dangerously. "What is your decision?"

"I can't believe you," Marianne responded. "You're a disgrace to the name sheriff. You're the opposite of everything you're supposed to stand for. You disgust me!"

"I'm disappointed." Turning in his chair, Mr. Rowans dismissed her easily. "Kill her."

From the shadows emerged Cortez, drawing his gun.

"Not in here," Mr. Rowans said, voice irate, "other would hear the gunshot. Dispose of her elsewhere and then return to me."

"Of course." Cortez held the gun to her head, then untied her from the chair slowly. Freezing, Marianne tried not to make any sudden movements, hoping that he wouldn't fire. Her guns were already missing, so he had little to fear from her, but she didn't want to take any chances.

The door creaked open, and the sound made everyone freeze. An officer poked his head in, intending to ask a question.

"Hey, Mr. Rowans, I was wonde- oh my god!" His face changed to an expression of complete shock as he took in the scene: Mr. Rowans sitting at his desk, calculating, Cortez holding Marianne at gunpoint. With only a flicker of movement Cortez fired at him, sending him falling to the floor of the hallway.

Marianne was shocked, horrified, at what he had done, but she was already moving. The instant Cortez's gun was no longer aimed in her direction, she struck it from the side, sending it flying. Before he could retaliate, she buried an elbow into his stomach and dealt a karate chop to his head. Standard police martial arts training.

Rushing out the door, Marianne found her way suddenly blocked. It was someone she hadn't seen before, a slender man in dark blue robes. She caught a brief glimpse of a shock of dark blond hair, but it didn't really matter, he was just in the way. Bracing herself, she tried to plow through him, but instead found herself deftly turned aside, her momentum carrying her to the floor, where she felt his forearm lock above her neck. Pressure slowly increased.

She suspected he was going to snap her neck, but they were interrupted by the sound of gunfire. In the room behind them Marianne heard something shatter, as if the large window on one side of the room had been broken from without.

"Shile!" Mr. Rowans yelled, sounding panicked for the first time. "Get in here and save me!"

Instantly she felt the hold on her released, and Shile, if that was his name, swept to the other room. Rolling to the side, Marianne vaulted herself to her feet. Time to get out of here. On impulse she picked up Cortez's gun from where it had fallen, then raced down the hallway.

What had happened this time? Obviously, there was someone else firing. She could still hear shots, and now some were coming from the office as well. Running to the nearest window, Marianne caught a glimpse of a red coated figure outside, firing into the window of Mr. Rowans' office. Vash had saved her again? Unless she was careful, she was going to end up owing him a life debt.

For now, it mattered more to get clear of the situation. Unless Vash had another reason to fire into the window of the chief sheriff, he was probably here to save her. It would have been foolish to stay when he wanted her to go. Besides, Vash could probably handle it by himself.

Just then, she saw Mr. Rowans dart from his room, rushing down the hallway. Because she was already some distance in the opposite direction, he didn't see her. A smile slowly appeared on Marianne's face. Perfect.



The gunfire slowed, as both sides were forced to reloaded weaponry at once. When they aimed again, none of them fired. Seconds ticked by slowly as the standoff increased in length.

"I'm not too certain what the situation is," Vash said eventually, glancing at the three inside the building. The other two had joined, but it didn't seem they could keep up with him, firepower-wise. At least not while they were forced to fire from within the window. "But I doubt any of this fighting is necessary."

"You fired on us," the man in the middle said gruffly.

"Shut up, Donovan," the man on the right sighed. Vash focused on him more, truly seeing him for the first time. Of any of the three, this one made Vash the most nervous. Something about his dark blond hair seemed vaguely familiar, and he held himself the way a warrior did.

"That's enough, Shile!" the man barked. "Who's the leader here, you or me? Cortez, follow Mr. Rowans and make sure he stays safe." The man on the left bowed slightly, then ran in the opposite direction. Vash instantly raised his gun to take him out, but the man who had been called Shile raised his as well, putting them at another standstill.

"Enough, Shile!" Donovan roared. "Stay out of this! I am fighting him! Get out of here!"

For a moment Shile's eyes narrowed, then he merely nodded, a slight smile on his face.

"As you wish. It is your funeral." Before Donovan could even formulate a response, Shile vanished through the door, disappearing into the shadows. Vash remained silent, not interfering. If Marianne was already in danger, he might as well pick them off one at a time. Donovan hurled something toward the wall, and a second later it exploded. Nimbly dodging rubble that came his way, Vash carefully watched the smoke where the wall had been.

Donovan emerged, toting a semi-automatic gun. Vash repositioned his weapon, and neither fired, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Well, well, well," Donovan chuckled. "If it isn't the legendary outlaw."

"What of it?" Vash asked calmly, fingering his glasses in his pocket.

"I've always wanted to be known as the man who killed Vash the Stampede. But I never thought I'd meet him."

In silence Vash took out his glasses, flipping them open and putting them on one handed, his gun never wavering. "You'll meet him."



Sweat pouring down his face, Mr. Rowans slipped around the corner. Putting his back to the wall, he stayed there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. How twisted life could be. In one moment, everything was perfect, the plan moving along wonderfully, and in the next completely chaos. First Vash had actually showed up, for unknown reasons, and then Marianne had escaped. With luck, however, the Hitmen could stop both of them, and everything would turn out alright after all. There was no reason to panic.

A click of a gun being cocked gave him a reason. The barrel of the gun was aimed at his forehead, Marianne stepped around the corner a second later.

"Mr. Rowans," she said coldly. "I am now placing you under arrest."

"Ridiculous!" he sputtered, "I am the head of this Police Department. You cannot arrest me!"

"You have committed a crime," Marianne told him, taking a set of handcuffs from her jacket. "Even you are not above the law."

"Idiot! You know nothing! Are you still hanging on to those idiotic notions of right and wrong?" She snapped the handcuffs on him, making it obvious what her answer was. Mr. Rowans held still, not daring to struggle while she held the gun to his head, but continued protesting. "Do you think you can survive this? If Vash the Stampede can kill the Hitmen, what do you think you can do to stop him? Do you think Vash the Stampede would spare you?"

"I don't know about Vash the Stampede," Marianne answered, binding his legs together and gagging him as well, "but I trust a guy I know named Vash."

"That's quite enough," Cortez interrupted, stepping from the corridor, his gun aimed at Marianne. "Step away from him slowly..."



"What's that supposed to mean?" Donovan asked, completely puzzled.

He got his answer in a rather grim form a second later, as his opponent made a sudden move. Instantly he fired a spurt of ammo, but he was far too late. Vash moved to the left, his gun firing twice, one shot shredding Donovan's gun and the other going through his forehead. The remnants of the gun slipped from Donovan's hands, and he hung in the air for a few seconds before collapsing to the ground.

Moving through where the destroyed wall had been, Vash grimly reloaded his gun and moved into the hallway. He hadn't seen Marianne leave, which meant she was still within the building. While he knew she could take care of herself, she didn't realize that both Cortez and Shile were on the loose as well.

Vash followed the sounds he could vaguely hear to the room where he suspected Marianne was. He arrived just in time to see her abruptly move, swinging her hands down from where they had been raised to the sky, slamming Cortez's wrist. His gun was sent spinning across the room, and a second later Marianne moved on him. Having learned his lesson the first time, Cortez evaded her attack, then turned and ran, quickly vanishing in the branching corridors ahead.

"What now?" Vash asked. Marianne started slightly at his voice, but then merely nodded to him, retrieving her own gun and a second of Cortez's.

"He's still on the loose, but the situation is more or less under control." Marianne gestured to Mr. Rowan's captured form. Vash nodded.

"Good. One of the other Hitmen is still unaccounted for."

"Hm." Marianne considered her options for a moment. "Now all that's left to do is contact Police Department Headquarters and tell them what happened. This branch of the Department is obviously corrupt, and I'm guessing they'll have to replace everyone. It's a shame, but it has to be done."

"So that's why he was doing all this."

"Right." Marianne moved to a computer terminal in the room, tapping a few keys and bringing it online. Someone had put Department Headquarters on the hotdial of the video phone, so setting up a call was a simple matter. Her fingers hovered over the key for a moment, reluctant to send the message. "Why'd you come back again?"

"One of Hitmen attacked me, and I deduced you were in trouble again."

"But this wasn't your fault. This is one of my personal issues."

"Yes, that's true." Vash paused for a second. "Consider it a gift. When you care about someone, sometimes you do selfless things."

"True," Marianne admitted. That was why she had become a sheriff in the first place. Because she cared about people in general. While she wouldn't have believed the legendary killer Vash the Stampede cared about anyone, this person behind her didn't make that so difficult. How much did he mean by that?

"I guess I should be out of sight," Vash said, voice returning to completely business. "If anyone recognizes me, that wouldn't be the best for the situation, would it?"

"Good idea." As Vash slipped into the shadows, Marianne tapped the computer key. The phone rang only twice before it was picked up, the grizzled face of the High Sheriff himself appearing in the monitor.

"This is quite an interruption," he told her, as calmly as always. "You had better have a very good reason for disrupting me."

"I do, sir," Marianne responded politely. She grabbed Mr. Rowans and forced him to get in range of the video phone. "This man has been exploiting his position. I'm sorry to report that this entire branch of the Police Department has become completely corrupt. There is a lot of evidence, if you need that."

Suddenly, Marianne was nervous. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now she wasn't so sure. Why would he believe her? Wasn't Mr. Rowan's word better than her own? Sure, there was plenty of evidence on hand, but it was a pretty outlandish claim. Even worse, what would Mr. Rowans do? There was no way he was going to believe her.

The High Sheriff laughed, startling Marianne. That response she had expected last of any.

"Sir?"

For a moment he still chuckled, then grew more sober. Casually he lit a cigar from his desk and blew a smoke ring, then responded, his face nearly a sneer. "You understand so little. Mr. Rowans was acting under my orders. I have had complete knowledge of his actions."

"What?" Marianne glanced back at Mr. Rowans, who was laughing into his gag. Like ice water trickling down her spine, she slowly began to understand what was going on, and it was an uncomfortable feeling.

"You see, the Police Department has, from the very beginning, existed to make money for myself and a few close compatriots. People like Mr. Rowans. Thank you ever so much for informing me that you figured this all out, and for being in a convenient location. There will be agents swarming over there by tomorrow. No one will ever find out about this."

Unable to comprehend, or perhaps merely unwilling to acknowledge, what was being said, Marianne mutely stood in shock for a few moments. What was she supposed to do now? Everything was falling apart, the highest authority she had known in her life had betrayed her. In a few moments, her formerly structured life was burning to ashes.

A hand roughly closed over her mouth from behind, silencing her and lifting her slightly up off the ground. Recognizing the glove as Vash's, Marianne froze. Now what was going on? She didn't fight back, realizing her only chance was in hoping that Vash was making some sort of ploy. Because without the Police Department, he was the only thing she had left.

"I am Vash the Stampede," he said coldly. "Stay out of my business. If you attempt to send anyone here, I will slaughter every man, woman and child in this building. Goodbye."

His gun arm swept up quickly, firing a shot toward the screen, which shattered as the connection was severed. Immediately Vash released her. All Marianne could do was stagger to the nearest desk, burying her head in her arms. Vash's quick work would temporarily slow them down, but it mattered precious little when her life was in ruins.

After a few moments, Marianne felt a hand gently rest on her shoulder. She knew it was his, but glanced up anyway. Vash was standing beside her, eyes looking to the ground. They were sad, so incredibly sad, as if he shared her pain. Somehow, his hand imparted great comfort to her.

"What are we going to do now?" she forced herself to ask. Vash sighed heavily.

"All we can do is control the damages. This is a sinking ship, and it's time to abandon it."

Raising her head, Marianne struggled to her feet. He was right; this was over. Her old life was over.



-



So apparently a lot of people have done a Vash Marianne pairing. I couldn't know. I'm curious as to what everyone thinks of it, though.