Deep within the metal cave, a rhythmic clangor shook the walls. Knives labored over a glowing rod of steel, shaping it with blows of his hammer. He worked quickly, using the parts of an old ship he had rigged to fit his purposes. A fusion reactor, installed as an emergency power supply supposing the ship's plants had failed, had been opened up and reconfigured to act as a forge. Scrounging in the cargo bay and equipment storage, Knives found a sturdy hammer he could use in his forge. He searched for scrap metal scattered through the scarred remains of the ship, or he would dismantle the walls of the ship and take the best-tempered segments.

And now his creation was nearly complete. All he needed to do was cool off this last component, drill a rifle through it, and bolt the whole thing together. He smiled down upon his work of art and anticipated the moment he would meet his dear brother.

Vash looked down at the battered corpse sprawled before him, confused and dejected. I could have saved him. No one has to die like that. He stumbled over his thoughts, trying to sort out what he should do next. There were no leads to find Knives with, and the Deadly Quartet would surely attempt to avenge their lost comrade.

Behind him came a man dressed in a white lab coat stepping silently over piles of rubble, mouth gaping in shock and in a flurry of mixed emotions. Jack had been a friend of sorts to him though he had feared Jack, and Jack had acted as a buffer between Horace and he. Now the Dreadnought was dead, he knew this, knew his frail friendship had been shattered, and now there was no one in whom to confide. The bounty offered for Vash was not worth carrying on, but Phillip would have his revenge. All he needed was one good blow across the skull to end his miserable life, and thus far he held the element of surprise.

Yet he hesitated. He was afraid of the Humanoid Typhoon. How could someone so scrawny kill such a massive brute, indirectly no less? Any mercenary was familiar with the rumors that passed from town to town about a man in a red coat with the Devil's luck; was this that unearthly force that aided the red one whom appeared too fragile to survive without supernatural assistance? Absolutely nothing of his visage deemed him durable enough to endure hostile environments, yet he saw his way through life unscathed.

This last factor compounded the complexity of Phillip's dilemma. Vash clearly was a valuable asset for the Deadly Quartet, and given the proper mental conditioning could become very amenable and susceptible to commands. Phillip was hinged on an uncertainty- kill Vash now and be done with this mission, or capture him and use him like a tool. He peered at his lost friend, shuddered, and made his conclusion.

Phillip drew his gun furtively, edging closer to his prey. Huddling down to take aim, he noticed a sturdy man moving over mounds of debris toward Vash. The stranger wore a loose white tunic over faded red pants, accented by a purple scarf wrapped about his neck and under his left shoulder. "This world does attract the most unusual sorts," Phillip mumbled to himself as he retreated to the shadows to observe.

Vash turned to see the stranger coming and smiled to greet him. In a mannerism of curiosity the man lightly tapped an earring hanging from his right lobe. He spoke a soft melody, "You may rest now, brother." Vash gave a weary smirk, sagged in languor, and collapsed to the ground. The odd man swooped in to catch him and heft him over his shoulder, then carried the limp Vash off to the swirling sands.

Phillip shot to his feet in outrage. He would not have his divine opportunity wasted. Leveling his aim he tugged at the trigger, but the gun refused to fire. In frustration he forced the trigger to move, pounding on it repeatedly, but to no avail. Screaming, he spiked the firearm in the dirt.

Consciousness blurred and faded, taking form and collapsing on itself again, until Vash could finally recognize the staples of his surroundings. There was a ceiling, four walls, the bed he lay in, and some amorphous mass at the corner of his eye. He rolled his head to examine the room better, but the wounds on his neck split open and a fresh flow of blood cascaded down his chest.

Footsteps thumped from the doorway over to him and a callused hand worked at the layers of gauze wrapped around his throat. Thick fingers began breaking the threads of the bandage, removing it to fit a clean one in its place. The melodic voice rang again, "You are still injured. Don't move, brother."

Vash gazed up at the dangling strands of luminous blond hair swaying about the gaudy scarf. "Who are you?"

Phillip entered a beige tent planted militantly at the crest of a dune, wind rippling its walls. He flicked a folder onto the desk before him. "Sir, I present my field report. Jack is dead and Horace is missing; I suspect he is a deserter." The aged man seated at the desk pressed his folded hands to his mouth and squinted in distressed thought.

"I see. Well, I will have to recover him."

"Yes, sir." Phillip bowed and set out for the desert again.

Striking his earring vehemently, the unusual man pondered the question. He looked to the ceiling in awed curiosity, carefully forming his answer. "You may call me...." He paused to think. Finally he stated with pride, "Hammer."

Vash gazed up at him skeptically. "Is that it? There's nothing more to it?"

"Oh, you don't like the name?" The newly christened Hammer waxed concern. The Humanoid Typhoon felt a pang of guilt to be the cause of unhappiness for the simple man. He shifted in his cot uneasily, squirming to evade his caretaker's everlasting stare. Finally, he sighed in exasperation and turned to face the wall.

He pouted in his corner and thought before speaking to Hammer while keeping his eyes on the wall. "It's a good name, but it seems too simple. And... it reminds me of someone who's caused me and many others a lot of pain."

Hammer nodded in grim sagacity. "You mean Knives."

Shocked, Vash whipped around to face Hammer again. "You know Knives?!" Hammer shrunk back in apprehension, mashing his earlobe between his fingers. It was his turn to shrink into a corner, nervous under Vash's imploring gaze. "How do you know Knives? Tell me!"

Vash sat up fully in his cot, gripping the blankets in bunches in his lap. Feeling no movement in his left arm, he grimaced at the cruel reminder his hand was still missing. As his focus wavered from Hammer, the man eased a bit and began tousling his brilliant locks. Thinking back to that sinister glare that met his eyes, the insanity and malice swimming in its depth, he shuddered and huddled low in fear. "I saw him. He's working on something, making something. I don't know what, but it looked very hefty. I couldn't see much from my confines, but it is most likely a weapon."

He looked to Vash for indications that he was useful, a smile or the like, but found instead a gawk of horror. Vash inspected him head to toe, taking in his thin build and wispy limbs, his awkward balance and his uncertain posture. The green eyes, the bright blond hair- they made sense to him now. "You're a plant, aren't you?" Hammer nodded sheepishly. "Where were you when you saw Knives?! In a ship?" He replied with another nod. "And where was this ship?!" Vash leaped from his bed in panicked excitement.

In a parental fashion, Hammer pushed him sternly back down onto the bed and commanded him to rest. "You need to regain your energy. I don't have all of the answers right now, but even if I did I would not allow you to travel in your condition." This behavior sparked a memory somewhere in the nether regions of Vash's mind, a warmth he felt when he was with Rem, and in naive longing he accepted this feeling as her presence. He wriggled until he fit comfy under the blankets and dozed to sleep. Hammer stood vigilant by the bed until he was certain Vash was sound asleep.

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That's kinda short, but I think I can leave it at that. Lookee there, I got to incorporate my only suggestion and I didn't have to change much of my established plot! Addendum and correction: Last chapter, in my list of possible comments from reviewers I included plotline suggestions on accident. I meant to ask if there were any sentences that didn't make since due to bad structuring or explanation, but somewhere between point A and point B that got changed.