The Sting

by The Chaotic Good

Takes place after series. Sting is a woman who masquerades as a preacher. Her past is dark and her future is uncertain. Vash is determined to help her... but at what cost will victory come? CHAPTER 6 UP! VM, WMOCNO ONE

2. The Woman of Two Faces

Chapter 2: The Woman of Two Faces

            Disclaimer: Dude, I so forgot this last time, so I'm doing it now.  I in no way, shape, or form own Trigun, I do not make a profit off of writing these fictions and I probably never will.  This is gonna apply from every chapter before and here on in.

            Chap. Summary: Sting proves to be a lot more trouble than what was first thought.

            Steam fumed from behind the shower curtains as the woman concealed behind them furiously scrubbed at her hair, attempting to clean it of all impurities (mostly sand… she hated sand… good Lord, what a planet to live on).

            Vash the Stampede, she thought to herself as she stood beneath the shower head, letting the water run down her body until all traces of suds had disappeared.  I'd really like to see the outcome of that battle if those mercenaries are dumb enough to go after him.  She grinned outwardly.  He was really something though, not half-bad looking either.

            The bedroom door opened and slammed shut again and Sting smiled.  "Ah, food," she spoke aloud, turning off the water and stepping out, toweling herself dry and removing a towel from the peg nearby, tying it around her body.

            Vann was sniffing at the food and poking it experimentally with a fork when she walked in.  "It's edible," he announced with some brief look of disgust.  "Somehow."

            Sting smiled and sat down beside him.  "It's better than nothing; we haven't had the money to eat in the last few days here, Mr. I-can-pick-any-pocket."

            "Hey, we haven't exactly been around anyone to pickpocket," the boy protested.

            "Where'd you get the money for this?"

            Vann took a bite.  "Iyf goft ift ov ova-"

            The woman whacked his shoulders.  "Be intelligible!"

            He swallowed.  "I got it off of a big brute who was so drunk he wouldn't recognize his own mother."

            "You sure you weren't seen?"

            There was a knock at the door and both turned at it.  "You answer it, I'm gonna go get some clothes on," she whispered, tip-toeing toward the bathroom and slipping in.

            Swallowing Vann pulled open the door and smiled in relief.  "Hey, Vash," he chimed, loud enough, he knew, for Sting to hear.

            Sting, behind the door, sighed a breath of relief.  If it was just that twit…

            "Hey, kid, where's Sting?  I was going to thank him for getting that room and watching Knives for me."

            "He's, uh, in the bathroom… er… getting dressed," Vann replied.  Smooth, man, real smooth, why don't you stutter just a little bit more?  He needed to get off the topic, and quick before he slipped something he shouldn't.  "Did you get the doc?"

            Vash smiled.  "Yeah, he's here now."

            Sting was buttoning up her coat when she stepped out from the bathroom and straightened her back immediately she noticed Vash watching her.  She kept her façade stoic, as the Sting he knew would.  She arched a brow, asking him the silent question she already knew from listening in: what are you doing here?

            "I was just dropping by to say thanks for watching Knives," the outlaw said softly.  "I really appreciate all you've done."

            The woman smiled inwardly.  Oh he was a sweetheart.  There was no way that the man before her was the bloodthirsty killer everyone spoke about.  She nodded in a stiff fashion, accepting his gratitude.  But to avoid any unnecessary questioning of her reasons for being in New Memphis again for the second time in the span of a few weeks she decided it best to make her quick escape.  Carefully she sniffed at the air and made a slightly disgusted face.  "Vann," she spoke in her gruff, gravelly tone, which she decided was as near to any sort of man's voice as she could get, "you reek like the dead, go take a shower."

            The boy snorted indignantly.  "Since when have I had time to shower?"

            Sting rolled her eyes as the boy stomped off.

            "Never noticed those."

            She looked to Vash with a raised eyebrow.  "Noticed what?"

            The outlaw pointed to his eye.  "Didn't know you were blind in one side either, you seemed to do alright."

            "I'm not helpless," she muttered back, scowling, lifting her hand to brush over the marks.

            "When'd you get them?"

            Sting shrugged.  "A year or so ago, a fist fight.  The S.O.B. clocked me good right across the face with some pipe.  Bashed in my eye, haven't been able to see out of the damn thing since.  I mean… there are shadows but, nothing worth looking at."

            "How'd you get yourself in that mess?  I thought men like you weren't supposed to promote violence."

            "Wasn't always a preacher, Typhoon," the faux preacher replied, raking a hand nervously through her hair.  "I was just on my way out to do some business.  Perhaps we'll meet again."

            "Yeah, maybe."

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vann grunted as he jumped up with a start.  A scream had resonated from across the street and into his open window.

            "Sting!" he shouted, looking around for the woman, but her bed was made and there was no sign of her.  He leapt up and checked the far corner near the bathroom.  Her boots and coat were gone, her clothes missing from their duffle.  He thumbed the rough cotton of her preacher's outfit.  She'd gone out in her own identity.  "Damn it."

            She's gonna get her ass caught!  The boy pulled off his nightclothes and hurriedly pulled on his trousers, moving for his shirt when a tapping on the window stopped him.

            Sting was crouching in the window, looking perturbed as she tapped again anxiously.  Realizing what he was seeing and coming from his comatose, Vann bounded for the window, unlatching it and stepping back as she slipped in with a flourish of agility.  He had almost forgotten what she looked like dressed properly.  Her hair was neatly brushed, the long black coat replaced by a deep brown duster with a white, collared shirt, black slacks, and knee-high boots.  A thin sheet of sweat covered her skin and she hurriedly stripped herself free of the coat and boots, collapsing onto the bed.

            Vann took a cautious step toward her frame.  "Sting?" he whispered softly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder.

            She cracked one gray-green eye open at him.  "Yeah?"

            "What'd you do?"

            The eye closed and she sat up mechanically on her knees, resting back on her calves.  She held an inviting arm out to him and he stepped near, allowing her to pull him into a tight hug.  He wasn't usually one for mushy stuff, having raised himself up on the streets with no parents to love him… but for Sting he'd make that exception.  He let himself be folded into her arms, let her fingers trail gently through his mussed black hair.

            "There's one less man to harm innocents," she whispered solemnly.

            The boy stiffened in her arms at the words.  That's why she was like this.  It should've been clear to him the second he saw her acting awkwardly.

            Vann had never been fully informed on her cause or her means or motive but he knew that Sting was wanted.  By who?  Not sure.  For reward?  Maybe.  Was she an outlaw?  Hard to tell.  She had explained in brief her past as a simple saloonkeeper's daughter who was mending the mistakes she'd made as a naïve adolescent.  He knew she killed men at seemingly random.  They were quiet, quick deaths to each.  Why?  Again he wasn't sure, the only answer he ever got out of her was that she was that 'more innocents were safe this way'.  His only safe assumption could be that whoever or whatever it was she was trying to destroy by killing these few, random people had to justify the ends.

            "What'd he do?"

            Sting gently pulled his hair through her fingers, closing her eyes as she rested her chin atop his head.  "He took unwilling women to his bed, killed men for cheating him out of a few double-dollars, he was sick, deranged, and wasn't about to turn around.  If I had not gone after him… he'd have come after me."

            Vann nodded.  "Did anyone see you?"

            "I'm not-"

            There was a gunshot from outside and the window of their room shattered.  Without a second's hesitation the woman shoved her ward away from her onto the other side of the bed and crept cat-like toward the window, crouching beside it and gazing out through a shard of glass that remained in its frame.

            The door to their room flew open and both occupants looked to it.  The sight of red tipped them both off before they registered his face.

            "Stampede, get down!" Sting growled, lunging at his knees, which buckled under him as she ran full-force into them, another gunshot and bullet embedding itself into the wall directly across from the window followed a half-moment later.

            Wide green eyes stared up into the two that gazed back at him, sweeping briefly over the lean, curved figure.  For being as flat as she was in the chest she was still noticeably a woman.  "You're… you're a… a-"

            "A woman you stuttering idiot," Sting snapped back, "d'you think we could discuss this later though?!"

            The outlaw shook his head and regained his composure, looking to the window and then back to the woman before him.  "Obviously one of your secrets?"

            Her eyes narrowed at him.  "You have no idea," she whispered softly.  "I can't explain now, all I can tell you is these men are… let's say… friends of the guy who got killed this morning."

            "You know anything about that?"

            Sting gave a short, nervous chuckle.  "Anyone who heard that woman screaming knows about it."  She glanced to Vann, who was frozen on the bed and nodded toward the window.

            The boy nodded and crawled toward it, peeking out much the same way his companion had.  "Alright," he murmured.  "The shooter's on the rooftop of the building across from us, there's three on the streets and… oh shit… two are coming into the building."

            Vash glanced at Sting.  "What are they after?"

            "Me," the woman whispered softly.  "Vann, go out the window in the bathroom and get rid of the sniper."

            "Aye, aye!"  The boy saluted and scurried to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

            "You're sending him out there?!" the Humanoid Typhoon asked incredulously, "he's just a kid!"

            "A kid who knows how to handle himself," Sting bit back.  "Look, Typhoon, I helped you out by bringing you here, I didn't have to, so help me out by getting rid of these guys with me."

            Vash narrowed his eyes.  "We're not killing any of them."

            Sting looked away.  "I'm not promising you a thing."

            The outlaw was silent for a second before he nodded.  "Let's get down to my room before they get upstairs.  My brother's gun is in there, you can use that."

            Without a second's thought Sting nodded and followed him as he booked it out the door and down the hall, slipping into the room there, her not far off his heels.

            She jumped at the sight that greeted; the man who had been so thoroughly wounded and unconscious was sitting up in bed, clutching a black revolver in one hand, glaring murderously at the floor.  She'd been sure he'd be out for another few weeks or something, he had been long gone from consciousness.

            "Knives!" Vash yelped out in surprise, moving to his brother, who stopped him with a glare.

            "Where are we?" the man whispered softly, his voice gravelly from no use.

            "New Memphis, in a hotel, we're in trouble."

            "So I've heard.  I watched you practically fly out of the room in response."  Cold, icy blue eyes turned on Sting, who was frozen in place.  Another spider, brother?  Is that really necessary?

             Don't be like that, Knives.

            The woman made an audible squeak as the black revolver raised level with her head and the man's finger threateningly tightened on the trigger.  Before she could even register her action she threw herself into a handspring away, landing in a defensive crouch.  Blue eyes were already trained on her before she landed and the placid face twisted into a wry smile.  "For a spider you're fast."

            If it impressed him it was impossible to tell.  But it impressed Vash, who was giving her an incredulous look.

            She shrugged uncomfortably.  "I'm decently strong but I'm not physically able to fight hand-to-hand and I can admit that my aim with a gun is probably the worst on Gunsmoke… all I have is speed and agility."

"And Vann?"

            Sting laughed.  "How else do you think I expected him to take out that sniper?  He's a thief by nature; this sort of thing comes natural to him… I almost pity the man he's probably standing over about now.  Look, Vash, you better be the gunmen every moron makes you out to be because these guys we're up against don't believe in playing fair… but I suppose it's a good thing they don't have automatics this time around."

            "That's fortunate because neither does-"

            The doorknob came off with the loud crack of a fired weapon, the bullet whizzing through into the floor, and Sting yelped, running to the window and heaving it open, looking out into the alley between the building and the one next to it.

            Go with her, Vash ordered, glancing to his brother.

            Why should I?

            Knives!

            Fine!  The Plant narrowed his eyes at his brother.  But I'm not promising you anything.

            He grumbled as he slid partially out the window, looking up in time to watch the woman shimmy her way up, her left hand and foot placed on the wall of their building and her right hand and foot on the wall of the other structure.  "C'mon, stupidhead!" she shouted, glancing down at him as her fingertips curled over the roof's edge.  Heaving to the left she brought her right hand to quickly grasp the same edge and from there pulled herself up, glancing expectantly over the edge.

            Knives cursed under his breath.  Why did his idiot brother have to like, of all things, spiders?  And why did he always seem to like the exceptionally irritating ones?  He sighed.  But he'd tolerate it.  For a little while.  Vash had, for some unknown reason, dragged his unconscious form in the desert for quite a while the least he could do, Knives figured, was tolerate his brother's love for the vile species.

            With his ribs aching the Plant managed to hoist himself up over the edge with just a touch less agility than he would normally and spotted the woman crouching low behind a chimney as bullets rained over her head.  The attackers either, one, didn't notice him or two, did and didn't care.

"You're one of the least fascinating people I know," Knives said, crouching to sit behind Sting.  (DC: Sorry if Knives is acting a little too nice, I know he's totally whacked out OOC but I intend to fix that, I promise!  Bear with me for now!)  "So why are they after you?"

            She laughed.  "Least fascinating, huh?" she asked, watching as he checked the barrel and cussed softly.  "Probably 'cause you don't know me.  How many shots you got?"
            "Six, but no extras."  (DC: They have six shots right?  Or am I delusional?)

            The woman sighed.  "How good are you?"

            He gave her an arrogant smirk and stood up, having listened carefully for a cease in fire and as he shifted around to the edge of the roof that faced the street he looked over spotting them all reloading.

            Again he smirked.

            The spiders looked frightened as their first comrade went down, which made it all the more fun to gun down them as well.  Of course… for Vash's sake… he didn't kill them though he knew by the look of things that the woman desperately wanted to.

            Sting watched him and a shiver flew up her spine.  Okay, she could definitely admit that this guy was sexy with that smirk, no matter how arrogant it was, but it was creepy.  He seemed to enjoy shooting those men… not that she didn't know what they were all very well responsible for.

            "Spider, it's safe now, you can quit cowering."

            Her eye twitched as she stood and dusted herself off.  "Spider," she drawled softly, mulling it around in her head.  It was supposed to be some sort of insult by the way he practically spat the word.  She smirked.  "I like it."

            He snorted.  "It'd figure."

            Sting rolled her eyes and walked to the edge of the building, lowering herself onto the porch roof and then jumping to the ground, landing in a crouch.  She spared the blond man watching her from the roof a half-glance before approaching the three shooters.

            Blood seeped from wounds on either their shoulders or legs, they were all precise, inches away from hitting something important and vital to living, like he wanted to kill them but for some reason decided against it.  The chivalry of the action didn't overshadow the gloom of his first intentions.

            Two of the three scooted away from her but the other lay there bleeding, staring up at her with wide eyes, his leg lamed with a wound to the top of it.  "Should've told him to finish you," she snarled softly.

            "You-you haven't won."

            Sting crouched low to him, grabbing his shirt front in her fist.  "But I haven't lost, and somewhere along the line, your employer will make a mistake, and I am going to have his ass pinned to the wall when he does.  If you ever see daylight again when I'm through with you tell him that."

            The man's eyes twitched rapidly in fear.  "You-you're the one that k-killed my brother, t-this morning."

            A frightening smirk crawled over her features.  "You and your brother were in the wrong business.  He just got his and you got lucky.  Your brother's taught a valuable lesson though… don't cross me and don't work for the man I'm hunting."

            There was silence for a moment and then one of the others started to laugh.  Gray-green eyes turned on him.  Their owner stood and threw down the other man as she started to approach his companion.  Even as she stood over him idiot two continued to laugh.

            "You are not hunting our employer," he whispered through a wide grin, "he is hunting you.  Stop walking into his traps and taking his bait and get away, girly, or he's gonna get you."

            A growl rose in Sting's throat and had she the chance she probably would've finished him on her own but a shout interrupted that.

            "Sting!"

            Vann's arms were latched about her waist in a second and as Sting looked toward the hotel Vash came out of the doors, dragging two unconscious men behind him.  "You two okay?" he inquired, brows knitting together.

The woman looked at the boy before her and tilted his face up toward hers.  He had a cut across his forehead above his eye and another slashed over his cheek but he appeared no worse for wear.  "We're fine," she replied, waving to him.  "You?"

            Vash laughed.  "All's well, where's Knives?"

            "Here."

            With a small 'thud' and a few dust clouds the Plant landed in a crouch from his jump, rising to his feet again.  His side throbbed but he prohibited himself from clutching it.

            "And I'd assume everyone cleared the area when these idiots started firing shots," Sting said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping the blood from the wounds on Vann's face, who was muttering something about not wanting to be fussed over.  "We should make sure-"

            "Vash!  What'd you do now?!"

            The blond man winced and looked down the street to watch Meryl and Milly approach, the shorter of the two with her arms crossed looking very ticked.

            "It was her!" the outlaw replied quickly, pointing to Sting.

            The woman glared at him.  "Typhoon!" she hissed, glaring.

            "The insurance girl won't beat you up!"

            "I didn't do any of this though!"

            "But you're the cause of this, spider," Knives put in.

            Sting gave him an annoyed look.  "I didn't ask for your input, Blondie."

           
 DC: Yeah, I'm very aware of Knives' OOCness but like I said, bear with me, I'm trying to fix it (besides, I like to imagine he's not really all that bad… I'm dreaming I know but yeah…) You've read now REVIEW!  Please, it's the only way I get motivation to write more!  (Oh, and I'd like an opinion on Sting, is she Mary-sue, Original, or is it too soon to really tell?)