I haven't made any disclaimers yet, so here goes. Trigun, including all characters within it, do not belong to me. Each individual of the Deadly Quartet does belong to me, but the name "Deadly Quartet" itself is a phrase coined by L. Ron Hubbard, and has nothing to do with any group of people. Just thought I'd clarify that.
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Jack the Dreadnought swung his heavy hand toward Vash like a catapult loosed of its cable. The Humanoid Typhoon spun around the outside of the attack, the art of his maneuver lost in his fatigue. Standing beside the bulky heathen, he released a few straight jabs into the exposed, wide flank with his good arm. Jack grunted, slightly phased, but shook off the pain and spun to deliver a backhand. Vash ducked to the left.
With agility and swiftness uncommon for such a massive man, Jack reversed his motion and caught Vash with a clothesline to the neck. Vash fell to the ground barely conscious. A foot pressed down on his stomach, knocking him breathless. Jack ground his foot in Vash's gut, leaning his weight into it. He could feel the body beneath him about to give way, to collapse under the pressure, but backed off at the sound of a gunshot.
Smoke drained from the upraised barrel Phillip held. He leveled his aim at the two briefly, then holstered his weapon. "Sorry to interrupt, Jack, but it looked like you were about to have the best part. I hope you share some of the cream filling with me." He smiled down at Jack, the only one of the Deadly Quartet he was truly fond of, from the elevated end of the road. He walked briskly toward them, casting a dulled, emotionless eye over the heaps of murdered townspeople.
"I sure as hell don't need your help, Phillip. I think you're just jealous I can kick his ass ten times quicker than you ever could. Hell, it took you and Horace, and where is Horace now? Dead, probably. Well, while you're here can you get this wimp to start moving?" He kicked Vash in the side, nudging him over onto his back. "He isn't being very fun."
"I know how it is. He hasn't started any of it on me yet, but you really should listen to those ideals of his. It could drive a man crazy, how optimistic he was toward the Gung-ho Guns. Well, on to better things, I say."
Phillip wrapped his hands underneath Vash's arms and struggled to hoist him up. He lifted him less than a foot off the ground, grunting and wheezing, and dropped him again in exhaustion. Stooped over to catch his breath, he looked across at Jack giving him a suspicious raise of the eyebrow. Jack clenched down on Vash's shoulder and pulled him up to his feet. "You both suck."
Vash moaned quietly, drawing Jack's attention. He raked his fingers across Jack's eyes, and freed of his grip bolted for cover behind a building. Phillip fumbled at the gun in his holster, firing careless shots once his weapon was drawn. "Why did you distract me with all that wailing?"
"Fuck you! How's about you go around with scratched eyes?" One hand groped with curled fingers for Phillip's face, while he massaged his eyes with the other.
Vash leaned around the edge of his cover shouting, "Watch your language, guys!" Phillip released another volley of random shots. The Humanoid Typhoon got a mischievous idea and dashed back out into the street. He held his arms out to his sides and nonchalantly watched bullets zing by, smashing out windows and pulverizing rocks. "You know the sad part about this right? The fact that I'm not moving?"
The Gimmick released the clip from his gun, dug in his coat pocket, and slammed in a fresh clip. He set the hammer and took his aim. Considering the shot for some time, he held the gun in both hands to steady his aim and fired. The bullet passed through a loose fold of Vash's coat with a thump, grazing his ribs. He raised his eyebrows in impressed surprise. "A direct hit. It certainly is hard to beat that."
Phillip did not notice that he had actually missed, and once Vash realized this he played along. He fell to one knee and wrapped his arm across his chest. Phillip relaxed his aim until the gun hung at his side, and he took confident strides to his injured foe. "Really, genuflection is not necessary. However, I do appreciate the gesture." He pressed the muzzle against Vash's head. "Hard to miss at this range, do you not agree?"
He tugged at the trigger, satisfied at the start of the gun. He stared down at the faded, transparent face smiling up at him, and felt an uneasiness churning inside himself. Confounded, he swiped a hand across Vash's face, only to find he was looking down upon an illusion of sorts. Shock spread through his skin, down his spine, in his stomach, and across his face. From behind him, Vash asked, "Well, how hard is it to miss now?" Phillip wept softly in utter confusion and fear.
"Remember me? Or is your memory really that bad?" Jack whirled his clasped hands into Vash's side, throwing him against the steps of a porch. Phillip turned to thank him, but found a raised hand silencing him. "I didn't want him to get to the cream filling before I could." Phillip backed off, even more shocked.
He grimaced in fear, turned, and ran down the road to hide in the farthest alleyway. He pressed hard against the wall, glancing around panic-stricken. From afar he could hear Jack laughing at him. You won't laugh next time you see me. Within another pocket he found a vial of small white crystals floating in a clear liquid. He shook it violently, looking at it with longing before finally placing it inside a syringe.
"He makes me laugh sometimes. Well, I was hoping you would defend yourself. That's not going to happen, so I'll just finish this now." As he fell silent he curled over at the impact of a boot to his gut. Taking a few steps back he gasped, "You're supposed to be injured."
"I am injured, but I spent that time regaining my strength." I hope it gives me the edge I've needed, Vash thought nervously. He thrust another wave of kicks into Jack's gut, driving him back far enough to create an opening for an assault on the giant. When Jack was no longer in his reach he leaped sideways to his feet, carrying through with his right leg. Tough leather connected with the titan's face, jarring him to the side. Twisting around to recover his balance, Vash set his heels in the ground, bent low on his knees, and rammed Jack with an elbow driven by bodyweight.
Jack searched with his hand at his side to grab hold of Vash and cast him against some wall, but the Stampede ducked around in front of him and chopped him firmly on the neck. Giving him no time to react, Vash stabbed his straight hand just beneath the hulking ribcage and slid his hand up along the bone. The colossus coughed and sputtered, clutching at his neck and chest, and wailed again as Vash stomped vertically on his bent leg.
Pushing off from Jack's leg, Vash brought himself up to eye level and placed another forceful chop on his neck. He hopped back to the ground and pulled his fist back, ready to strike again, when Jack swiped his hands out and swatted Vash across the face.
"Enough!" bellowed the titan. Frustrated and furious, Jack bent his arm at his side and flexed it rigid. He huddled forward and, bunching up his legs, shot off like a derailed train. He plowed onward past Vash, through the framework of the porch, into the building, and out the back wall. At the other side he barreled on, never slowing, gradually circling back around to Vash. As he moved along his arm cut through the storefronts of every building he passed, kicking up a torrent of dust and splinters. Each structure he bore through collapsed and spewed shattered boards.
He screamed and howled in his berserker rage. Over broken bodies, porches, tethering stalls, automobiles, and street markets he forced his way onward in a white-hot fury; he would not be outdone by such a scrawny man. A whispered thought glanced his mind as he noticed a wisp of a white figure huddled in an alleyway, but the idea frittered away before it registered with him. With effort he bounded off to his left, now halfway back to where he left Vash, and extended both arms to reach from face to face of the buildings lining the narrow street.
As he watched the juggernaut blast around the corner towing a maelstrom of debris, Vash felt his remaining confidence diminish. To escape the path of the stampeding brick wall he scrambled to the rooftop of a house across the street, climbing unsteadily over barrels and crates that rocked wildly. From his vantage he watched as Jack smashed down the front wall directly beneath him, and felt the roof caving in as the house imploded. He bounded to the next house, which was presently struck down as well. On the ground Jack traveled in a weaving pattern, through the side wall and out the back, where he then searched above for Vash's movements. Blood dribbled from an array of cuts and punctures along his body, enormous bruises stung and burned on his chest, yet he continued in his path of destruction. Quit hopping around so I can squash you, he thought. You won't get away.
At this rate, he will definitely catch up to me, Vash considered. So close yet so far away was another row of houses parallel to his course, and though they were already collapsed ruins, they provided him with elevated shelter until at least the other end of the city. Emerging from yet another wrecked house, Jack turned to the sky and found an empty blue eternity. Confused, he looked about quickly. He saw the red coat clambering up a corner of a house that had otherwise completely fallen apart, save sparse remains of siding clinging on.
"I'll get you!" bellowed Jack. This is where it ends! Take down that wall you're hiding on and come back to finish you off. Bad move, Vash the Stampede. His battered mass rammed through the support column, a few of his ribs finally giving way to the punishment, and he immediately encountered an insurmountable pain piercing his chest. The timbers that had held the roof in place lay atop the rubble at odd angles, and by horrible chance one had lodged itself deep inside Jack upon impact. He stumbled around, wailing, trying to get free of the pile of rubble. Every time he attempted to turn around the timber would snag on a large piece of the ruined building, and it would twist inside him and work at his flesh.
Recovering from his fall, Vash bolted over to help Jack remove the timber from his chest, but was rejected with defiance. The Dreadnought grabbed at the beam and pulled outward with great force, driving splinters into his back as it was dragged through his body. Jack suddenly paled, his eyes dimmed, his whole frame slumped under tremendous weight. Quivering and wobbling, he turned his pallid face to see Vash. "Bet you couldn't do this, wimp."
Vash shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes.
"That's what I thought. I'm the strongest-" He coughed violently, spitting up blood. A final gleam of life sparked in his eye, and grappling at his surroundings he hurled himself from the pile of wreckage in one last attempt to crush Vash. The last of his vitality flashed away, and he crashed to the ground where he lay dead.
Vash sobbed uncontrollably now. He pounded his fist into the shattered remains of a wall, cursing himself, Jack, the Deadly Quartet, Knives, and the remainder of the world. "These people.... Why do they refuse to get along? Why do they reject Eden with such passion? And why must I live through this firsthand?" It must be because Knives will always continue this cycle of hatred and murder. I have to stop him so this horror will never be repeated.
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Well, that's that. And for any of you who choose to review, which does include my very few regulars, please point out anything you think I need to change or improve. I do appreciate all of the kind comments, but the bottom line is this: it ain't perfect. So tell me any things you would like to see improved, which can include grammar, wording, possibly story development, and (God forbid) spelling errors. Please don't take this as a prompt to get mean or unnecessarily critical, but don't be too kind either.