TRIGUN: GunGrave
By ShadowHawk & Turles
Disclaimer: We do not own the copyrights to Trigun, or any other copyrighted information. All Copyrights belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 1: The Stranger in the Desert
Under the blistering heat of the twin suns over the desert planet Gunsmoke, the remnants of humanity lived, it was also here that lived one of the most notorious gunslingers that ever lived. A man who had single handedly reduced a city of over 1 million people to rubble, the 60-billion double dollar man, the humanoid typhoon; Vash the Stampede.
In the small city of Little Jersey on its outskirts to the desert, a lone man was walking toward it. He was enormous standing at a high 6 foot 2 inches that sent his shadow long into the city with the suns beginning to set behind him. His shadow grew wider from his broad shoulders and was thin towards his feet from his long tailed coat. He looked to the city of Little Jersey from under his peaked hat with folded brims. His one good eye saw the entire city while his cyborg eye enhanced his vision of the town. Upon this man's back was a coffin that was too small for him but looked more like the size of a small man between 4 and 5 feet.
He entered the city and headed for the Saloon. In small towns like this most of the main business is on the main street that runs trough it. The Saloon was clearly marked with the painted letters in its windows and the swinging board that hung outside with the same word written upon it.
From the streets the stranger heard the music being played inside the saloon. It was an old fashioned tune that the people knew how it went but no one knew its name. The sounds that emanated from behind the batwing doors was uproarious and happy with the people inside dancing, drinking and possibly playing poker.
The stranger stopped in the middle of the street with the brief gust of wind blowing by the sand at his feet. His cyborg eye fixed on the saloon's batwing doors. He turned and walked up to them. Both his hands reached up to part the batwing doors like the Red Sea as he crossed the threshold into the Saloon. He set his feet inside the saloon, the batwing doors closed behind him and all sound stopped. The deafening silence that came over the room was absolutely chilling. No one was dancing, talking, laughing or playing poker. Even the old fashioned tune that was played at the piano had stopped. All eyes in the room were on the stranger who came in. He looked like death dressed as a cowboy. He stunk of dirt, sand and even the faint coppery smell that only belonged to blood.
The stranger took a few steps to the bar at this left while the music, dancing, laughing and poker playing continued. Disconnecting the coffin from the chains that held it from both of his arms, the stranger then set the coffin upon the barstools next to him like it was his beloved.
The only person who was calm the moment the stranger walked in was the bartender. He was as cool as a cucumber as was cleaning the glasses. He cleaned the glasses by the conditioning that he had from being in this job for so long. That much was obvious by the gray hairs around his ears and by the first question he asked the stranger.
"What'll it be?" He asked putting away his newly cleaned glass.
From under the folded brimmed hat the stranger spoke. His lips moved as if he was whispering but the bartender heard his voice so clearly it was as if the room was quiet.
"A glass of whiskey." The stranger said
The bartender poured the drink, while the stranger took the glass, brought it to his lips and gulped all of it as if it was water. The stranger brought back down his glass from his lips and the bartender refilled his drink. Except this time the stranger drunk more slowly and the bartender wanted to make small talk with him.
"Are you an undertaker?" He asked from the coffin that was laid upon the barstools.
The stranger said nothing, he didn't nod, nor did he look up at the bartender from under his hat. There was only a moment of silence from him until he reached into his coat. At first instinct the bartender thought the stranger was going to pull a gun. Then he saw no such shape as the stranger brought out his hand. He watched as the strangers' hand came into close view and the strangers' hand opened.
In the palm of his hand was an old crumpled up black and white photograph. The photograph was already showing its signs of age with its edges torn and frayed while it had creases zigzagging all over it. The picture itself was of two children, one girl and one boy looking as happy as they could possibly be.
The stranger spoke, "Do you know this girl?"
The bartender looked at the picture and had an internal bewilderment. How could a man like this who looks like an undertaker cowboy carry a picture so innocent? The bartender finally gave his answer.
"Can't say that I have." He said
The stranger took the picture and placed it back in his coat. He took the half-empty glass of whiskey and gulped the rest of it down. He then picked up the coffin and connected to his chained arms and walked out of the saloon.
But before the stranger left, he reached into his pocket again and took out a coin, without turning to look back at the bar he flipped the coin up into the air. The bartender watched the coin as it came down in slow motion down into the glass that the stranger drank out of. He saw that the coin was a rare five double dollar coin. He took it out and put it back into his pocket and looked back to the batwing doors to find the stranger was gone.
As he was gone, one of the frequent visitors to the bar came up to the bartender.
"Hey, Anel Johnson." He called, "why were you talking to yourself?"
The bartender, Anel Johnson, looked at the barfly confused, "What do you mean, didn't you hear him talk?"
"No, I didn't."
"That's funny. I heard him clear as a bell."
Outside of the saloon the stranger walked the streets until he found a hotel. He walked and found the innkeeper sitting behind his desk with the register book in front of him and the wall of keys behind him. The stranger came up to the desk and moved his lips again while the innkeeper heard his voice.
"I'd like a room." He said
The innkeeper didn't take a second glance at the stranger. He had seen quite a lot of strange characters come to stay at his hotel. So, who was he to judge anyone?
"That'll be 30 double dollars a night. Just sign your name here." The innkeeper turned the register around and handed a pen over to the stranger. He turned to get the nearest key off of the wall while the stranger signed his name. The innkeeper turned back around to give the stranger his key while he took back the pen and register to see his name. It was a very strange name written in a very sloppy and jagged script:
Gun Grave
"Your room is number 07." The innkeeper said
The whole time that the innkeeper spoke to Gun Grave he never saw his face nor his eyes, just his lips while the rest of his face was covered by his broad-brimmed hat, then he saw the stranger reach into his pocket and pull out what looked like paper. Then he made the connection that it was money. The stranger, Gun Grave, handed the money over to the innkeeper who then found out that he gave him a 100 double dollar bill.
"Keep the change." Gun Grave said
The innkeeper smiled with glee since this job never paid that much in the first place. Not only that but with the kind of life he has had he never saw an actually 100 double dollar bill in his life. It was one of those moments in life when one can feel as if their luck might be changing for the better.
"If you need anything." The innkeeper offered, "Anything at all, just let me know."
The stranger said nothing, he simply went to his room leaving the innkeeper to gaze in amazement at the 100 double dollar as if it was the rarest stone in the world.
Away from the clerk who ogled his 100 double dollar bill, Gun Grave went to his room number 07 was up on the second level of the inn. The room was nothing special to Gun Grave, it was simply a desk, chest of drawers, a closet and a bed. That was all he needed, he reached for the chains that held his coffin and pulled it off his back and placed it upon the low set chest of drawers. Taking off his hat he found a mirror above the low set chest of drawers. He couldn't help but look back at himself and into that scarred part of his face. The part that used to have an eye long ago but not all that remained was a scar that ran down the left side of his face and the bionic eye that was set in his face.
A light tap came at the door.
Gun Grave stayed silent as he looked to the door seeing the shadow through the bottom crack under the door and knew that someone was there. For a moment he thought of who it could be and if it could be anyone out to kill him. He opened up his coffin quickly and quietly within the coffin was velvet padding like that of a box containing some precious jewel. Yet, instead of gold rings, necklaces or bracelets there were guns. Twin gun seated within the velvet padding of the coffin. The guns were custom made for Gun Grave. The two looked almost like the gun that belonged to Vash the Stampede except for one feature. Running along down the side of both guns, one was a red cross and the other was a silver cross. One beam of it ran along the gun as if it was traveling with the bullet while the other one crossed the other right over the trigger. These were called the Cerberus, named after the three-headed dog of Greek Mythology. Yet there were only two guns, the third one was a surprise that Gun Grave always had for his enemies.
He brought out one of the Cerberus to the door and stayed silent as it opened. He didn't have the gun pointing at the door but rather had it at his side waiting to use it. The door opened and in walked a girl. Not just any ordinary girl this one was dressed in black leather like some kind of Gothic Countess. Her hair long, blonde and so sleek that reflected the light coming in from the hall and within Gun Grave little room.
"Hi." She said very seductively as she tapped her whip against her left hand, "I'm Christina."
Gun Grave saw the whole meaning behind this situation. The innkeeper being so surprised by the "generosity" of this gunslinger named Gun Grave that he sent a hooker to his room. In the dim light of his room he looked at the hooker from head to toe and thought about the possibilities he could have with her.
"Hello there." Gun Grave said, this time he didn't move his lips as he placed his gun back into his coffin. He took off his wide shouldered jacket to reveal a slightly less built body that he had underneath it all. He walked over to Christina, led her in and closed the door.
"Alright, before we get to it," Christina stated, "I have to lay down certain things I don't do. I don't do it through the backdoor you got me."
All of this "laying down the rules" annoyed Gun Grave. He looked at Christina in the eyes as she was going on about what she won't do. Her eyes suddenly locked into his even his bionic eye and that scar down the left side of his face. She was transfixed, she found him beautifully handsome. She dropped all the things that she wouldn't do just because she was locked into Gun Grave's sights.
Gun Grave wrapped his arms around Christina and kissed her longingly as he turned off all the lights with his mind.
That night Christina had felt sex like she hadn't known ever since she started this business so long ago. But certainly for the very last time.
* * *
The next morning Gun Grave was still awake, he had the curtains drawn so that no light came into his room except for the little bit of light that could be seen on the floor from the drawn curtains. With the super vision that he had in his left bionic eye he could still see the sleeping body of his hooker, Christina. Now was the time to act, he went to his coffin and quietly opened it seeing his twin guns. He went to a small flap below them that was secured with a small snap. He unclamped the snap and pulled up the flap. Under the flap was a small compartment where Gun Grave stored his most prized object for his life. The very thing that allowed him to survive, though it was an odd device since it was shaped something like an egg with small hoses attached to it.
In the darkness of his room with the early morning light coming in from under the curtains Gun Grave took the egg over to where Christina lay. He reached over to touch her neck she had no more pulse. He took one last look at her lying on the bed that had all its covers pulled off, she was sprawled out and naked with the whip she had last night wrapped around her neck.
Gun Grave knelt down and took her arm setting the egg on the bed. He took one of the strings attached to it and looked at it as it developed teeth like a lamprey or a leech ready to suck. He took the hose and placed it on the arm of Christina he watched as the hose took a life of its own and sank its teeth into the arm. Yet as its teeth sank into Christina's flesh she didn't flinch as she lay still with her eyes open. Gun Grave kept his eyes upon the egg that began to flash lights of, blue, green, red, and amber like LED's. He took the other hose and placed it onto his chest, he looked at his body, as he was topless only wearing his pants. He looked down at the bullet wounds in his chest scattered like raindrops. He felt only a small prick as the hose sank its teeth into his chest. Knowing that the connection was there he reached over to the egg and squeezed it. The egg made a very low hum as the LED's began to flash faster and faster. Gun Grave felt the liquid coming from Christina entered his body. With each drop of her precious bodily fluids he felt stronger and stronger with each passing minute. It was like eating a great dinner after only surviving on rations.
After several minutes of ecstasy of sucking out the fluids of Christina, Gun Grave felt that he could gain no more out of her. So he reached over and gave the egg another small squeeze and all the lights died out. He pulled off the hose from Christina's arm as well as from his own chest. He couldn't help but see the face that Christina had; he leaned over and kissed her on her cheek.
"Thank you." He said as he took the egg back to the coffin. He placed it back into its compartment and brought down its flap. The whole time he felt stronger and lighter on his feet as he got dressed and ready to leave the hotel. He finally got on his folded brimmed hat and pulled back his shoulder length black hair. He left the room as casually as if nothing had happened last night. He walked down to the lobby in the same casual way that he had walked into town the day before. He walked passed the innkeeper on his way out the door to the dusty streets of Little Jersey, passing it he heard the conversations going on in the lounge.
"Did you hear?" One man asked, "I heard Vash the Stampede is in a small village a few isles from L and R Town."
"Vash the Stampede?" Another man asked, "You're not going to try and get that 60 Billion Double Dollar reward are you?"
"Hell no, I ain't going after Vash, no way in Hell."
Then the voice of the Innkeeper reached Gun Grave ears, "Hey stranger" He called. "How did you like, Christina?"
Gun Grave turned to the innkeeper and gave a very disturbing and cryptic smile, "She was most satisfactory." He moved his lips while speaking with his mind.
"Where is she anyway?" The Innkeeper kept looking up the stairs to see if the little hooker would come back down or (from the noises he heard last night) she might be bedridden.
"She's in my room," He said as he tossed the key back on the innkeepers' desk, "She wanted to sleep in."
The Innkeeper winked as he took the key back and left the desk. Gun Grave on the other hand went about his original course back to the streets. He felt the blistering head coming down from the twin suns as he set his course carrying his coffin on his back. The information that he heard in the lobby was something that he took great interest in. Vash the Stampede was in a village outside L and R town. The wonderful thing about having a bionic eye is that it can also act like a navigation computer. He looked through his eye seeing the streets, the buildings and the people that walked them. From his eye he looked in which direction L and R town is located all it took was a turn of his head and he found its direction and headed that very way.
He headed that way following the directions given to him in his bionic eye ignoring everyone that passed as well as gawked at him.
"AAAAHHH!" A scream came from behind him.
He didn't know what the scream was about but he could take a wild guess and that was the reason why he kept walking and never turned around.
"There's a murder!" A man screamed, "a woman died in my hotel! It was in his room!"
From under his broad brimmed hat Gun Grave could see the people staring at him. It wasn't the kind of stare where people were looking at him because he was an odd character. This was a stare when they know something terrible has happened and who was responsible for it. The sort of collective connection everyone made that was similar to the mindless lynch mobs who knew who did it and what should be done. Except Gun Grave wasn't one to be underestimated like some common thief.
"Hold it!" A voice shouted from behind him.
Gun Grave stopped in his tracks.
"Hands up." The voice said
Gun Graves stuck his hands up
"Stranger." The commanding voice said, "You're under arrest for first degree murder."
Gun Grave spoke to the one standing behind him with his mind. He reached to his thoughts and said only one thing before acting.
"Humans." He said, "foolish humans. You willingly walk into death don't you?"
"What?" The commanding voice asked, "I'm hearing voices!"
"You say I'm under arrest for first degree murder? You better add a few more counts to that. Bullet Time!"
As Gun Grave thought of that singular phrase, Bullet Time, the world around him began to slow down as if it was a clock that was slowly winding down to a complete stand still. He began to move with lightning speed as the people around him were moving like thick molasses. He opened his coffin from a side compartment and out popped his twin guns, his Cerberus. They were out handle first like the coffin was a person handing the guns to him directly. He took the guns and took aim against his opponents.
The first one he set his sights on was the person that was right behind him. In a split second he found out that it was the local sheriff who had a shotgun in his hands pointing it out, no doubt, formerly at Gun Grave back, but no more. Gun Grave took the first shot, he wanted his first kill to be special in this town. He fired his bullet straight at the sheriffs' rifle. In this slow motion that he was watching around him he watched his bullets fly out and hit the rifle. It exploded sending fragments of the shotgun and whatever ammunition it had in all directions. Gun Grave smiled as he watched the surprised and frightened look on the sheriffs face. He was only getting started, but he could only maintain this amount of speed with Bullet time for a short while. He allowed the bullet time to speed up just a tad but the people were still moving slow enough for him to strike.
The next person he saw was a young man whose head had been completely shaved bald. He was looking at where Gun Grave stood with a very shocked expression on his face, like that of a sheltered boy who was now seeing a real woman naked for the first time.
"Swing Coffin." Gun Grave spoke in his mind as he took hold of the coffin with his Cerberus in his hands and swung it at the young man. In slow motion Gun Grave watched the young man fly like a comic book super hero making a mistake trying to fly. It would only be a matter of time from Gun Grave points of view (or seconds from the towns' point of view) before that young man hits a building or lands on his ass.
Through his Bionic eye, Gun Grave saw the great satellite that this small city owned. He holstered his guns into the coffin and set it up on his shoulder. Pressing a small button hidden in the articulate pattern in the underside of the coffin, a small target sight popped out of the coffin. It came out like the button of a click pen. He looked through it and saw the satellite.
"Deathblow!" His mind shouted
And from the front end of the coffin came a miniature missile that rocketed towards the station that held the satellite. Like everything else around him the explosion happened so slowly that it was like watching thick honey drip out of a jar.
At last, Gun Grave was done playing around in Bullet time, he got himself out of it and watched all the destruction happening around him in real time. The people were shocked when he reappeared in the middle of the street. In all that time that Gun Grave had caused all that damage he was out of sight, no one saw where he was or what he was doing. Now he was standing in the middle of the streets of Little Jersey and everyone definitely knew that it was him that was doing all of this. The only thing that the people didn't know was the great move that Gun Grave was going to play.
No one heard the command that he gave as he took out his Cerberus from the holsters in his coffin.
"Bullet Dance!" He cried in his mind
In mere instants he was dancing like mad in the middle of the street and sending bullets everywhere. It was like a twister or a hurricane of these deadly projectiles that were flying in each direction that he moved. All 360 degrees of motion that he moved the people around him dropped like puppets that had their strings cut. The people were lying in the streets dead but Gun Grave still continued to do his deadly dance in the street. Everyone who even looked at Gun Grave from afar wasn't safe from his barrage. By the time his dance was done, everyone in the main street of Little Jersey was dead or dying under the twin suns.
Gun Grave holstered his weapons and looked to the satellite which also acted as a docking station for Sand Steamers. The great works of iron that moved across the sands of Gunsmoke and there near the satellite was the Sand Steamer waiting for its passengers to come aboard.
"Bullet time." Gun Grave said and everything slowed down as he took his time getting to the Steamer. It wasn't anything spectacular, as a matter of fact it was already starting to show signs of age with its old metal becoming brown and crusted with sand. These iron giants were used for several things since they were so huge. They were used as cargo ships as well as cruise liners. Since Gun Grave didn't have a lot of money on him and he was in Bullet Time already he figured that he could swipe some money from the pockets of the people. Yet, he wasn't going to use his stolen money to buy a ticket, he was just going to stow away on it. He figured that he could do it because of his own powers. Going onto the ship he looked on the charts that the workers had and found out that they were going to several places; Little Oregon, Dankin town, Mei City, as well as L & R town.
He saw the name L & R Town and he knew that this was the steamer to get on. Going through the decks he went along and found his way into one of the deluxe accommodations. The First Class places were very cushy compared to that cramped little room that he had back in Little Jersey. Plus those fluids he took from Christina were really making him feel good, they were like the greatest of drugs that anyone could make.
He set his coffin next to the enormous round bed that had the nice windows and fell fast asleep allowing the fluids in his system to course through him.
To be continue...
By ShadowHawk & Turles
Disclaimer: We do not own the copyrights to Trigun, or any other copyrighted information. All Copyrights belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 1: The Stranger in the Desert
Under the blistering heat of the twin suns over the desert planet Gunsmoke, the remnants of humanity lived, it was also here that lived one of the most notorious gunslingers that ever lived. A man who had single handedly reduced a city of over 1 million people to rubble, the 60-billion double dollar man, the humanoid typhoon; Vash the Stampede.
In the small city of Little Jersey on its outskirts to the desert, a lone man was walking toward it. He was enormous standing at a high 6 foot 2 inches that sent his shadow long into the city with the suns beginning to set behind him. His shadow grew wider from his broad shoulders and was thin towards his feet from his long tailed coat. He looked to the city of Little Jersey from under his peaked hat with folded brims. His one good eye saw the entire city while his cyborg eye enhanced his vision of the town. Upon this man's back was a coffin that was too small for him but looked more like the size of a small man between 4 and 5 feet.
He entered the city and headed for the Saloon. In small towns like this most of the main business is on the main street that runs trough it. The Saloon was clearly marked with the painted letters in its windows and the swinging board that hung outside with the same word written upon it.
From the streets the stranger heard the music being played inside the saloon. It was an old fashioned tune that the people knew how it went but no one knew its name. The sounds that emanated from behind the batwing doors was uproarious and happy with the people inside dancing, drinking and possibly playing poker.
The stranger stopped in the middle of the street with the brief gust of wind blowing by the sand at his feet. His cyborg eye fixed on the saloon's batwing doors. He turned and walked up to them. Both his hands reached up to part the batwing doors like the Red Sea as he crossed the threshold into the Saloon. He set his feet inside the saloon, the batwing doors closed behind him and all sound stopped. The deafening silence that came over the room was absolutely chilling. No one was dancing, talking, laughing or playing poker. Even the old fashioned tune that was played at the piano had stopped. All eyes in the room were on the stranger who came in. He looked like death dressed as a cowboy. He stunk of dirt, sand and even the faint coppery smell that only belonged to blood.
The stranger took a few steps to the bar at this left while the music, dancing, laughing and poker playing continued. Disconnecting the coffin from the chains that held it from both of his arms, the stranger then set the coffin upon the barstools next to him like it was his beloved.
The only person who was calm the moment the stranger walked in was the bartender. He was as cool as a cucumber as was cleaning the glasses. He cleaned the glasses by the conditioning that he had from being in this job for so long. That much was obvious by the gray hairs around his ears and by the first question he asked the stranger.
"What'll it be?" He asked putting away his newly cleaned glass.
From under the folded brimmed hat the stranger spoke. His lips moved as if he was whispering but the bartender heard his voice so clearly it was as if the room was quiet.
"A glass of whiskey." The stranger said
The bartender poured the drink, while the stranger took the glass, brought it to his lips and gulped all of it as if it was water. The stranger brought back down his glass from his lips and the bartender refilled his drink. Except this time the stranger drunk more slowly and the bartender wanted to make small talk with him.
"Are you an undertaker?" He asked from the coffin that was laid upon the barstools.
The stranger said nothing, he didn't nod, nor did he look up at the bartender from under his hat. There was only a moment of silence from him until he reached into his coat. At first instinct the bartender thought the stranger was going to pull a gun. Then he saw no such shape as the stranger brought out his hand. He watched as the strangers' hand came into close view and the strangers' hand opened.
In the palm of his hand was an old crumpled up black and white photograph. The photograph was already showing its signs of age with its edges torn and frayed while it had creases zigzagging all over it. The picture itself was of two children, one girl and one boy looking as happy as they could possibly be.
The stranger spoke, "Do you know this girl?"
The bartender looked at the picture and had an internal bewilderment. How could a man like this who looks like an undertaker cowboy carry a picture so innocent? The bartender finally gave his answer.
"Can't say that I have." He said
The stranger took the picture and placed it back in his coat. He took the half-empty glass of whiskey and gulped the rest of it down. He then picked up the coffin and connected to his chained arms and walked out of the saloon.
But before the stranger left, he reached into his pocket again and took out a coin, without turning to look back at the bar he flipped the coin up into the air. The bartender watched the coin as it came down in slow motion down into the glass that the stranger drank out of. He saw that the coin was a rare five double dollar coin. He took it out and put it back into his pocket and looked back to the batwing doors to find the stranger was gone.
As he was gone, one of the frequent visitors to the bar came up to the bartender.
"Hey, Anel Johnson." He called, "why were you talking to yourself?"
The bartender, Anel Johnson, looked at the barfly confused, "What do you mean, didn't you hear him talk?"
"No, I didn't."
"That's funny. I heard him clear as a bell."
Outside of the saloon the stranger walked the streets until he found a hotel. He walked and found the innkeeper sitting behind his desk with the register book in front of him and the wall of keys behind him. The stranger came up to the desk and moved his lips again while the innkeeper heard his voice.
"I'd like a room." He said
The innkeeper didn't take a second glance at the stranger. He had seen quite a lot of strange characters come to stay at his hotel. So, who was he to judge anyone?
"That'll be 30 double dollars a night. Just sign your name here." The innkeeper turned the register around and handed a pen over to the stranger. He turned to get the nearest key off of the wall while the stranger signed his name. The innkeeper turned back around to give the stranger his key while he took back the pen and register to see his name. It was a very strange name written in a very sloppy and jagged script:
Gun Grave
"Your room is number 07." The innkeeper said
The whole time that the innkeeper spoke to Gun Grave he never saw his face nor his eyes, just his lips while the rest of his face was covered by his broad-brimmed hat, then he saw the stranger reach into his pocket and pull out what looked like paper. Then he made the connection that it was money. The stranger, Gun Grave, handed the money over to the innkeeper who then found out that he gave him a 100 double dollar bill.
"Keep the change." Gun Grave said
The innkeeper smiled with glee since this job never paid that much in the first place. Not only that but with the kind of life he has had he never saw an actually 100 double dollar bill in his life. It was one of those moments in life when one can feel as if their luck might be changing for the better.
"If you need anything." The innkeeper offered, "Anything at all, just let me know."
The stranger said nothing, he simply went to his room leaving the innkeeper to gaze in amazement at the 100 double dollar as if it was the rarest stone in the world.
Away from the clerk who ogled his 100 double dollar bill, Gun Grave went to his room number 07 was up on the second level of the inn. The room was nothing special to Gun Grave, it was simply a desk, chest of drawers, a closet and a bed. That was all he needed, he reached for the chains that held his coffin and pulled it off his back and placed it upon the low set chest of drawers. Taking off his hat he found a mirror above the low set chest of drawers. He couldn't help but look back at himself and into that scarred part of his face. The part that used to have an eye long ago but not all that remained was a scar that ran down the left side of his face and the bionic eye that was set in his face.
A light tap came at the door.
Gun Grave stayed silent as he looked to the door seeing the shadow through the bottom crack under the door and knew that someone was there. For a moment he thought of who it could be and if it could be anyone out to kill him. He opened up his coffin quickly and quietly within the coffin was velvet padding like that of a box containing some precious jewel. Yet, instead of gold rings, necklaces or bracelets there were guns. Twin gun seated within the velvet padding of the coffin. The guns were custom made for Gun Grave. The two looked almost like the gun that belonged to Vash the Stampede except for one feature. Running along down the side of both guns, one was a red cross and the other was a silver cross. One beam of it ran along the gun as if it was traveling with the bullet while the other one crossed the other right over the trigger. These were called the Cerberus, named after the three-headed dog of Greek Mythology. Yet there were only two guns, the third one was a surprise that Gun Grave always had for his enemies.
He brought out one of the Cerberus to the door and stayed silent as it opened. He didn't have the gun pointing at the door but rather had it at his side waiting to use it. The door opened and in walked a girl. Not just any ordinary girl this one was dressed in black leather like some kind of Gothic Countess. Her hair long, blonde and so sleek that reflected the light coming in from the hall and within Gun Grave little room.
"Hi." She said very seductively as she tapped her whip against her left hand, "I'm Christina."
Gun Grave saw the whole meaning behind this situation. The innkeeper being so surprised by the "generosity" of this gunslinger named Gun Grave that he sent a hooker to his room. In the dim light of his room he looked at the hooker from head to toe and thought about the possibilities he could have with her.
"Hello there." Gun Grave said, this time he didn't move his lips as he placed his gun back into his coffin. He took off his wide shouldered jacket to reveal a slightly less built body that he had underneath it all. He walked over to Christina, led her in and closed the door.
"Alright, before we get to it," Christina stated, "I have to lay down certain things I don't do. I don't do it through the backdoor you got me."
All of this "laying down the rules" annoyed Gun Grave. He looked at Christina in the eyes as she was going on about what she won't do. Her eyes suddenly locked into his even his bionic eye and that scar down the left side of his face. She was transfixed, she found him beautifully handsome. She dropped all the things that she wouldn't do just because she was locked into Gun Grave's sights.
Gun Grave wrapped his arms around Christina and kissed her longingly as he turned off all the lights with his mind.
That night Christina had felt sex like she hadn't known ever since she started this business so long ago. But certainly for the very last time.
* * *
The next morning Gun Grave was still awake, he had the curtains drawn so that no light came into his room except for the little bit of light that could be seen on the floor from the drawn curtains. With the super vision that he had in his left bionic eye he could still see the sleeping body of his hooker, Christina. Now was the time to act, he went to his coffin and quietly opened it seeing his twin guns. He went to a small flap below them that was secured with a small snap. He unclamped the snap and pulled up the flap. Under the flap was a small compartment where Gun Grave stored his most prized object for his life. The very thing that allowed him to survive, though it was an odd device since it was shaped something like an egg with small hoses attached to it.
In the darkness of his room with the early morning light coming in from under the curtains Gun Grave took the egg over to where Christina lay. He reached over to touch her neck she had no more pulse. He took one last look at her lying on the bed that had all its covers pulled off, she was sprawled out and naked with the whip she had last night wrapped around her neck.
Gun Grave knelt down and took her arm setting the egg on the bed. He took one of the strings attached to it and looked at it as it developed teeth like a lamprey or a leech ready to suck. He took the hose and placed it on the arm of Christina he watched as the hose took a life of its own and sank its teeth into the arm. Yet as its teeth sank into Christina's flesh she didn't flinch as she lay still with her eyes open. Gun Grave kept his eyes upon the egg that began to flash lights of, blue, green, red, and amber like LED's. He took the other hose and placed it onto his chest, he looked at his body, as he was topless only wearing his pants. He looked down at the bullet wounds in his chest scattered like raindrops. He felt only a small prick as the hose sank its teeth into his chest. Knowing that the connection was there he reached over to the egg and squeezed it. The egg made a very low hum as the LED's began to flash faster and faster. Gun Grave felt the liquid coming from Christina entered his body. With each drop of her precious bodily fluids he felt stronger and stronger with each passing minute. It was like eating a great dinner after only surviving on rations.
After several minutes of ecstasy of sucking out the fluids of Christina, Gun Grave felt that he could gain no more out of her. So he reached over and gave the egg another small squeeze and all the lights died out. He pulled off the hose from Christina's arm as well as from his own chest. He couldn't help but see the face that Christina had; he leaned over and kissed her on her cheek.
"Thank you." He said as he took the egg back to the coffin. He placed it back into its compartment and brought down its flap. The whole time he felt stronger and lighter on his feet as he got dressed and ready to leave the hotel. He finally got on his folded brimmed hat and pulled back his shoulder length black hair. He left the room as casually as if nothing had happened last night. He walked down to the lobby in the same casual way that he had walked into town the day before. He walked passed the innkeeper on his way out the door to the dusty streets of Little Jersey, passing it he heard the conversations going on in the lounge.
"Did you hear?" One man asked, "I heard Vash the Stampede is in a small village a few isles from L and R Town."
"Vash the Stampede?" Another man asked, "You're not going to try and get that 60 Billion Double Dollar reward are you?"
"Hell no, I ain't going after Vash, no way in Hell."
Then the voice of the Innkeeper reached Gun Grave ears, "Hey stranger" He called. "How did you like, Christina?"
Gun Grave turned to the innkeeper and gave a very disturbing and cryptic smile, "She was most satisfactory." He moved his lips while speaking with his mind.
"Where is she anyway?" The Innkeeper kept looking up the stairs to see if the little hooker would come back down or (from the noises he heard last night) she might be bedridden.
"She's in my room," He said as he tossed the key back on the innkeepers' desk, "She wanted to sleep in."
The Innkeeper winked as he took the key back and left the desk. Gun Grave on the other hand went about his original course back to the streets. He felt the blistering head coming down from the twin suns as he set his course carrying his coffin on his back. The information that he heard in the lobby was something that he took great interest in. Vash the Stampede was in a village outside L and R town. The wonderful thing about having a bionic eye is that it can also act like a navigation computer. He looked through his eye seeing the streets, the buildings and the people that walked them. From his eye he looked in which direction L and R town is located all it took was a turn of his head and he found its direction and headed that very way.
He headed that way following the directions given to him in his bionic eye ignoring everyone that passed as well as gawked at him.
"AAAAHHH!" A scream came from behind him.
He didn't know what the scream was about but he could take a wild guess and that was the reason why he kept walking and never turned around.
"There's a murder!" A man screamed, "a woman died in my hotel! It was in his room!"
From under his broad brimmed hat Gun Grave could see the people staring at him. It wasn't the kind of stare where people were looking at him because he was an odd character. This was a stare when they know something terrible has happened and who was responsible for it. The sort of collective connection everyone made that was similar to the mindless lynch mobs who knew who did it and what should be done. Except Gun Grave wasn't one to be underestimated like some common thief.
"Hold it!" A voice shouted from behind him.
Gun Grave stopped in his tracks.
"Hands up." The voice said
Gun Graves stuck his hands up
"Stranger." The commanding voice said, "You're under arrest for first degree murder."
Gun Grave spoke to the one standing behind him with his mind. He reached to his thoughts and said only one thing before acting.
"Humans." He said, "foolish humans. You willingly walk into death don't you?"
"What?" The commanding voice asked, "I'm hearing voices!"
"You say I'm under arrest for first degree murder? You better add a few more counts to that. Bullet Time!"
As Gun Grave thought of that singular phrase, Bullet Time, the world around him began to slow down as if it was a clock that was slowly winding down to a complete stand still. He began to move with lightning speed as the people around him were moving like thick molasses. He opened his coffin from a side compartment and out popped his twin guns, his Cerberus. They were out handle first like the coffin was a person handing the guns to him directly. He took the guns and took aim against his opponents.
The first one he set his sights on was the person that was right behind him. In a split second he found out that it was the local sheriff who had a shotgun in his hands pointing it out, no doubt, formerly at Gun Grave back, but no more. Gun Grave took the first shot, he wanted his first kill to be special in this town. He fired his bullet straight at the sheriffs' rifle. In this slow motion that he was watching around him he watched his bullets fly out and hit the rifle. It exploded sending fragments of the shotgun and whatever ammunition it had in all directions. Gun Grave smiled as he watched the surprised and frightened look on the sheriffs face. He was only getting started, but he could only maintain this amount of speed with Bullet time for a short while. He allowed the bullet time to speed up just a tad but the people were still moving slow enough for him to strike.
The next person he saw was a young man whose head had been completely shaved bald. He was looking at where Gun Grave stood with a very shocked expression on his face, like that of a sheltered boy who was now seeing a real woman naked for the first time.
"Swing Coffin." Gun Grave spoke in his mind as he took hold of the coffin with his Cerberus in his hands and swung it at the young man. In slow motion Gun Grave watched the young man fly like a comic book super hero making a mistake trying to fly. It would only be a matter of time from Gun Grave points of view (or seconds from the towns' point of view) before that young man hits a building or lands on his ass.
Through his Bionic eye, Gun Grave saw the great satellite that this small city owned. He holstered his guns into the coffin and set it up on his shoulder. Pressing a small button hidden in the articulate pattern in the underside of the coffin, a small target sight popped out of the coffin. It came out like the button of a click pen. He looked through it and saw the satellite.
"Deathblow!" His mind shouted
And from the front end of the coffin came a miniature missile that rocketed towards the station that held the satellite. Like everything else around him the explosion happened so slowly that it was like watching thick honey drip out of a jar.
At last, Gun Grave was done playing around in Bullet time, he got himself out of it and watched all the destruction happening around him in real time. The people were shocked when he reappeared in the middle of the street. In all that time that Gun Grave had caused all that damage he was out of sight, no one saw where he was or what he was doing. Now he was standing in the middle of the streets of Little Jersey and everyone definitely knew that it was him that was doing all of this. The only thing that the people didn't know was the great move that Gun Grave was going to play.
No one heard the command that he gave as he took out his Cerberus from the holsters in his coffin.
"Bullet Dance!" He cried in his mind
In mere instants he was dancing like mad in the middle of the street and sending bullets everywhere. It was like a twister or a hurricane of these deadly projectiles that were flying in each direction that he moved. All 360 degrees of motion that he moved the people around him dropped like puppets that had their strings cut. The people were lying in the streets dead but Gun Grave still continued to do his deadly dance in the street. Everyone who even looked at Gun Grave from afar wasn't safe from his barrage. By the time his dance was done, everyone in the main street of Little Jersey was dead or dying under the twin suns.
Gun Grave holstered his weapons and looked to the satellite which also acted as a docking station for Sand Steamers. The great works of iron that moved across the sands of Gunsmoke and there near the satellite was the Sand Steamer waiting for its passengers to come aboard.
"Bullet time." Gun Grave said and everything slowed down as he took his time getting to the Steamer. It wasn't anything spectacular, as a matter of fact it was already starting to show signs of age with its old metal becoming brown and crusted with sand. These iron giants were used for several things since they were so huge. They were used as cargo ships as well as cruise liners. Since Gun Grave didn't have a lot of money on him and he was in Bullet Time already he figured that he could swipe some money from the pockets of the people. Yet, he wasn't going to use his stolen money to buy a ticket, he was just going to stow away on it. He figured that he could do it because of his own powers. Going onto the ship he looked on the charts that the workers had and found out that they were going to several places; Little Oregon, Dankin town, Mei City, as well as L & R town.
He saw the name L & R Town and he knew that this was the steamer to get on. Going through the decks he went along and found his way into one of the deluxe accommodations. The First Class places were very cushy compared to that cramped little room that he had back in Little Jersey. Plus those fluids he took from Christina were really making him feel good, they were like the greatest of drugs that anyone could make.
He set his coffin next to the enormous round bed that had the nice windows and fell fast asleep allowing the fluids in his system to course through him.
To be continue...