Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun. I do not own Meryl, or Milly, or Wolfwood, or Vash, or Knives or even the cute little black kitty. I simply write fanfiction in my spare time. Though sometimes I really, really, really wish I *owned* Vash. (hehe)
Author's Notes: *aiming gun* Die homework! Die! Damn it! Why won't you die? *checking bullets* Rubber bullets? Vash switched them again!? Bastard. *mumbles ominously* I might seriously have to hurt him this time.
Ahem, dear reviewers, don't be scared. I'm just stressed and angsty. Brief acknowledgements follow just because now it's a habit and I can't seem to get myself to post without saying a word to you guys out there.
Roganu-chan: You want to be a Cuban dictator? Like the one in Bedazzled? Hehehe. I am so sorry for you. But if you can't be a Cuban dictator, why don't you be a donut maker? So much safer to be a donut maker. Then you can actually say "Be the donut" and mean it.
S-chan The Great: Really? There's a "shrine of best quotes from fanfiction"? *whining like Vash* How come no one told me? Ahem. . .yes, "Be the donut."
VASHIES-GIRL: *wagging finger in admonition* I hate to tell you, but S-chan's the only one allowed to threaten me? *grin*
Mari Silverfire: Awww! Thanks!
krazyMaze: "Are his dreams gonna come true?" *smirking evilly* Wait and see. Wait and see.
Loneliestnumber: I hope you didn't fall out of your chair like one of the other reviewers! Although I must say, having someone fall out of their chair laughing is...a really nice compliment.
ceciliaa_e: You mean a taste of the donut, right? Right?
Faery Goddyss: Umm...thanks? I don't know how you could have read it before since I just first started posting. BUt I guess...I really don't know what to say!
Pori-Pori: Where's my cookie?
Quenya: Thanks! Oh and I will email you back. Promise. When I get the chance to and I'm less angsty and stuff.
Angel-Tinuviel: Well I'm so proud to be your "first." *grin*
Chapter 6
Damn it! My shoulder stings like hell. There had been a bank robbery today, guns blazing, ketchup everywhere. The mayor is once more pissed off at Milly ("I said no food in the bank!") and me ("Again? The bank vault, again?") and the newly repaired vault is shattered again. No one had been killed but quite a few had some minor scratches. Mostly from crawling on the floor trying to get away from the mayor's grandmother. Who knew a ninety year old woman in a wheelchair could move so fast?
That stinging in my shoulder, by the way, is because of her. And that bank vault? It wasn't my fault this time.
I'd gone to buy her some aspirin while she waited in line at the bank. She was complaining about a headache. Headache my ass! It was a hangover from last night! That woman drinks like she has a hole in her shoe! Hell, she drinks more than Wolfwood did. I don't know where she puts it all, but I was the one leaning on the wheelchair for support at the end of the night and she was the one dragging me out of the bar. Heh. No wonder she's so well preserved. That body's probably ninety nine percent proof alcohol.
So anyway, I go to the pharmacy for aspirin for her – though I knew she was being kind and was really only asking me to buy it so I can take it. We have another planned drinking match tonight. The mayor doesn't seem to mind. He mumbled something about "killing two outlaws with one stone." Didn't know what he meant until the bank incident.
I get myself to the pharmacy and purchase two bottles of aspirin with no problem (I can take care of myself you know, no matter what Meryl thinks.) and was on my way back to the bank when I noticed that a car armored and bristling like a porcupine was parked in front of the bank with its engines still chugging heavily. My senses go on alert right away. Okay, maybe not right away 'cause of the slight hangover from last night. But still pretty damn fast. I crouched behind a lightly dozing thomas and watched.
A red haired woman in an uncomfortably tight skirt and white top ensemble was looking impatiently into the bank. She had dark sunglasses on and seemed really tense. But it wasn't the woman who I noticed – although she was cute, no one can compare to Meryl and I don't really know if the skirt was tight, I'm only assuming because she was sitting on the edge of her seat like there was a pincushion behind her. It was the way the light glinted from her lap and onto her sunglasses, the unmistakable glint off the barrel of a gun. That, and she had a kerchief tied around her nose and mouth to hide her face.
So, suave outlaw that I am, I jump her. (Not that way! I'm perverse but I'm not a molester!) Then in two quick moves she's trussed up and out of trouble, all without losing her sunglasses.
"So sorry!" I apologize happily. "Thought you were someone else. I'll just borrow your bullets, okay?"
"Mmmppph!" she protests and I take that as a 'yes' since she seems unable to talk past the gag that used to be her kerchief. I take the bullets and lose them and peer into the bank.
It was like a scene from the most horrible of nightmares. Heh. Just kidding. It was pretty calm really except for the madman waving a gun around. It was the same robber from the first time the bank got robbed. I guess he decided that this time he needed a partner. And two packs of explosives. Damned man didn't seem to have learned the first time that explosives explode. He seemed really uncomfortable as well. What with his waving the gun around and trying to keep two packs from falling at the same time. Everyone was flat on the floor including Milly who had a bottle of ketchup for some strange reason or other and was busily finishing chewing whatever it was she had been eating. She was going to be okay, I knew that. What troubled me was the bane of my existence, my drinking partner, the mayor's grandmother and my responsibility: Grandma Mary Sue.
She sat there next to a teller very calmly, her hands resting on her lap, with a glint in her eye, a glint that I had come to recognize as danger. The last time the glint had been there was when she said, "Do you want to bet?" and I had ended up being dragged out of the bar, having lost money from a drinking match.
Then this is what happens:
I launch myself through the door to try that element of surprise thing and Grandma Mary Sue suddenly reaches beneath her wheelchair and reveals this very large gun (How the hell did I miss that?) and wields it with dangerous imprecision (Yes, I said *im*precision, damn it!) and starts shooting at everything that moves with this crazy grin on her face like she had missed this and was enjoying every moment with the way she was cackling "Mary Sue Slugger, sheriff outlaw is going to kick your filthy robber asses" and everyone is trying to crawl away from her with plaster and bits of rocks and cement flying around to bruise exposed skin and I have to get on my stomach and try to crawl to her so I can wrench away the gun but the mayor gets there before me and tries to wrestle it away and then Milly stands up and shouts gladly "Mr. Vash!" and the robber (Who was at this moment just gaping in complete shock at his foiled plans.) remembers who I am and turns around saying "Vash the Stampede?" hits Milly with a carelessly outstretched arm making her drop her ketchup bottle spilling the red stuff everywhere and the robber slips and the vault explodes.
Yep. The vault exploded. Again. How? It turns out Grandma Mary Sue had one shot left. The only shot that was *not* imprecise. The one shot that glanced off my shoulder and hit the robber's two packs of explosives as they flew towards the vault.
So here I am back at square one. Stuck with the well preserved Grandma Mary Sue Slugger, famous sheriff outlaw. The devious woman who blamed the vault explosion one me! On me! Poor innocent Vash the Stampede! ("It's not my fault the bullet didn't stay in you!" she'd whined!) So now I'm stuck with her for at least a couple more weeks.
And do you remember the aspirin I bought? Well, I'm on my way to the pharmacy again. It got shattered when I was shimmying my way to her. I may have to buy two more. The mayor looks like he has a killer headache hanging on his forehead. What with that vein throbbing on his temple like that. I can feel one starting myself, not to mention my stinging shoulder.
I think this probably makes two reports Meryl wasn't going to file. I'll just have to try very hard to hide the bullet hole in my shoulder.
*****
"You're pathetic," Knives says distastefully when I come in with his tray.
"Yeah and you're psychotic," I respond with a grin. "What's new?"
He snorts out something rude and turns away. "Well? What the hell do you want?"
"I'm your nurse today," I say with a hint of irony. "I just forgot the uniform."
"Where's your two tag-alongs?"
"Oh, off and about," I say nonchalantly and shrug. I immediately regret the action for it causes something to shift in my shoulder. "They'll be back if you miss the glare."
"That short human woman?" he growls. "Her? I hate her."
"Hey! She's been patient enough with you."
"She's human. She's not worthy."
"Well, hell. You're a Plant, whoever said you were worthy? Everyone deserves to live."
"The tall one's even worse," he continues, not paying attention to me. "She's so. . .so. . .happy all the time."
"Milly's like that." She actually believes there's some good in you, I add mentally. As I do.
"I hate it here," Knives says suddenly, bitterly. "I hate these humans."
"They've kept you alive despite everything," I remind him gently. I put the tray I've carried with much difficulty by him and indicate for him to turn.
Knives looks at me, eyes unblinking and yet unhostile.
"Bandages," I remind him.
"I wish sometimes that we were never born," he abruptly says.
For a moment that stumps me. It was so uncharacteristic of him to say that. "But we were. We just have to make the most of what we have."
Something flashes in his eyes and the Knives (the Plant that was born with a glare) that I know returns. "I suppose you want me to do good now," he sneers.
"Yes," I reply without hesitation. "I'll help you. They'll help you." I realize that I sound almost excited, emphatic, and Knives turns away.
"You're a fool, Vash."
I feel the retort come to my lips. "And you're a psychotic son of a – a . . ." A Plant? Come to think of it we weren't exactly sons of anyone. "Whatever. Why do you have to be *evil* all the time? Can't you be all cheery instead of psychotic just once in your life? Isn't it tiring?"
"Butterflies," he mumbles evilly.
"What?" I ask sharply.
"I – " he begins to say, but just then his head lolls over and he is asleep again.
I sigh and bend to change his bandages and tuck the blanket beneath his chin afterwards, wincing the whole time at the pain that shoots up my shoulder at every movement.
Okay. So he's not exactly friendly. But he's not talking as if he wants to blow up the world. Except for that last ominous comment about butterflies, I'd call that progress. Wouldn't you?
*******
A/N: Wow! That was almost angsty huh? Next chapter I'll be back to my original roots of fluff and cotton candy and tension. LOL. See you next chapter!
Author's Notes: *aiming gun* Die homework! Die! Damn it! Why won't you die? *checking bullets* Rubber bullets? Vash switched them again!? Bastard. *mumbles ominously* I might seriously have to hurt him this time.
Ahem, dear reviewers, don't be scared. I'm just stressed and angsty. Brief acknowledgements follow just because now it's a habit and I can't seem to get myself to post without saying a word to you guys out there.
Roganu-chan: You want to be a Cuban dictator? Like the one in Bedazzled? Hehehe. I am so sorry for you. But if you can't be a Cuban dictator, why don't you be a donut maker? So much safer to be a donut maker. Then you can actually say "Be the donut" and mean it.
S-chan The Great: Really? There's a "shrine of best quotes from fanfiction"? *whining like Vash* How come no one told me? Ahem. . .yes, "Be the donut."
VASHIES-GIRL: *wagging finger in admonition* I hate to tell you, but S-chan's the only one allowed to threaten me? *grin*
Mari Silverfire: Awww! Thanks!
krazyMaze: "Are his dreams gonna come true?" *smirking evilly* Wait and see. Wait and see.
Loneliestnumber: I hope you didn't fall out of your chair like one of the other reviewers! Although I must say, having someone fall out of their chair laughing is...a really nice compliment.
ceciliaa_e: You mean a taste of the donut, right? Right?
Faery Goddyss: Umm...thanks? I don't know how you could have read it before since I just first started posting. BUt I guess...I really don't know what to say!
Pori-Pori: Where's my cookie?
Quenya: Thanks! Oh and I will email you back. Promise. When I get the chance to and I'm less angsty and stuff.
Angel-Tinuviel: Well I'm so proud to be your "first." *grin*
Chapter 6
Damn it! My shoulder stings like hell. There had been a bank robbery today, guns blazing, ketchup everywhere. The mayor is once more pissed off at Milly ("I said no food in the bank!") and me ("Again? The bank vault, again?") and the newly repaired vault is shattered again. No one had been killed but quite a few had some minor scratches. Mostly from crawling on the floor trying to get away from the mayor's grandmother. Who knew a ninety year old woman in a wheelchair could move so fast?
That stinging in my shoulder, by the way, is because of her. And that bank vault? It wasn't my fault this time.
I'd gone to buy her some aspirin while she waited in line at the bank. She was complaining about a headache. Headache my ass! It was a hangover from last night! That woman drinks like she has a hole in her shoe! Hell, she drinks more than Wolfwood did. I don't know where she puts it all, but I was the one leaning on the wheelchair for support at the end of the night and she was the one dragging me out of the bar. Heh. No wonder she's so well preserved. That body's probably ninety nine percent proof alcohol.
So anyway, I go to the pharmacy for aspirin for her – though I knew she was being kind and was really only asking me to buy it so I can take it. We have another planned drinking match tonight. The mayor doesn't seem to mind. He mumbled something about "killing two outlaws with one stone." Didn't know what he meant until the bank incident.
I get myself to the pharmacy and purchase two bottles of aspirin with no problem (I can take care of myself you know, no matter what Meryl thinks.) and was on my way back to the bank when I noticed that a car armored and bristling like a porcupine was parked in front of the bank with its engines still chugging heavily. My senses go on alert right away. Okay, maybe not right away 'cause of the slight hangover from last night. But still pretty damn fast. I crouched behind a lightly dozing thomas and watched.
A red haired woman in an uncomfortably tight skirt and white top ensemble was looking impatiently into the bank. She had dark sunglasses on and seemed really tense. But it wasn't the woman who I noticed – although she was cute, no one can compare to Meryl and I don't really know if the skirt was tight, I'm only assuming because she was sitting on the edge of her seat like there was a pincushion behind her. It was the way the light glinted from her lap and onto her sunglasses, the unmistakable glint off the barrel of a gun. That, and she had a kerchief tied around her nose and mouth to hide her face.
So, suave outlaw that I am, I jump her. (Not that way! I'm perverse but I'm not a molester!) Then in two quick moves she's trussed up and out of trouble, all without losing her sunglasses.
"So sorry!" I apologize happily. "Thought you were someone else. I'll just borrow your bullets, okay?"
"Mmmppph!" she protests and I take that as a 'yes' since she seems unable to talk past the gag that used to be her kerchief. I take the bullets and lose them and peer into the bank.
It was like a scene from the most horrible of nightmares. Heh. Just kidding. It was pretty calm really except for the madman waving a gun around. It was the same robber from the first time the bank got robbed. I guess he decided that this time he needed a partner. And two packs of explosives. Damned man didn't seem to have learned the first time that explosives explode. He seemed really uncomfortable as well. What with his waving the gun around and trying to keep two packs from falling at the same time. Everyone was flat on the floor including Milly who had a bottle of ketchup for some strange reason or other and was busily finishing chewing whatever it was she had been eating. She was going to be okay, I knew that. What troubled me was the bane of my existence, my drinking partner, the mayor's grandmother and my responsibility: Grandma Mary Sue.
She sat there next to a teller very calmly, her hands resting on her lap, with a glint in her eye, a glint that I had come to recognize as danger. The last time the glint had been there was when she said, "Do you want to bet?" and I had ended up being dragged out of the bar, having lost money from a drinking match.
Then this is what happens:
I launch myself through the door to try that element of surprise thing and Grandma Mary Sue suddenly reaches beneath her wheelchair and reveals this very large gun (How the hell did I miss that?) and wields it with dangerous imprecision (Yes, I said *im*precision, damn it!) and starts shooting at everything that moves with this crazy grin on her face like she had missed this and was enjoying every moment with the way she was cackling "Mary Sue Slugger, sheriff outlaw is going to kick your filthy robber asses" and everyone is trying to crawl away from her with plaster and bits of rocks and cement flying around to bruise exposed skin and I have to get on my stomach and try to crawl to her so I can wrench away the gun but the mayor gets there before me and tries to wrestle it away and then Milly stands up and shouts gladly "Mr. Vash!" and the robber (Who was at this moment just gaping in complete shock at his foiled plans.) remembers who I am and turns around saying "Vash the Stampede?" hits Milly with a carelessly outstretched arm making her drop her ketchup bottle spilling the red stuff everywhere and the robber slips and the vault explodes.
Yep. The vault exploded. Again. How? It turns out Grandma Mary Sue had one shot left. The only shot that was *not* imprecise. The one shot that glanced off my shoulder and hit the robber's two packs of explosives as they flew towards the vault.
So here I am back at square one. Stuck with the well preserved Grandma Mary Sue Slugger, famous sheriff outlaw. The devious woman who blamed the vault explosion one me! On me! Poor innocent Vash the Stampede! ("It's not my fault the bullet didn't stay in you!" she'd whined!) So now I'm stuck with her for at least a couple more weeks.
And do you remember the aspirin I bought? Well, I'm on my way to the pharmacy again. It got shattered when I was shimmying my way to her. I may have to buy two more. The mayor looks like he has a killer headache hanging on his forehead. What with that vein throbbing on his temple like that. I can feel one starting myself, not to mention my stinging shoulder.
I think this probably makes two reports Meryl wasn't going to file. I'll just have to try very hard to hide the bullet hole in my shoulder.
*****
"You're pathetic," Knives says distastefully when I come in with his tray.
"Yeah and you're psychotic," I respond with a grin. "What's new?"
He snorts out something rude and turns away. "Well? What the hell do you want?"
"I'm your nurse today," I say with a hint of irony. "I just forgot the uniform."
"Where's your two tag-alongs?"
"Oh, off and about," I say nonchalantly and shrug. I immediately regret the action for it causes something to shift in my shoulder. "They'll be back if you miss the glare."
"That short human woman?" he growls. "Her? I hate her."
"Hey! She's been patient enough with you."
"She's human. She's not worthy."
"Well, hell. You're a Plant, whoever said you were worthy? Everyone deserves to live."
"The tall one's even worse," he continues, not paying attention to me. "She's so. . .so. . .happy all the time."
"Milly's like that." She actually believes there's some good in you, I add mentally. As I do.
"I hate it here," Knives says suddenly, bitterly. "I hate these humans."
"They've kept you alive despite everything," I remind him gently. I put the tray I've carried with much difficulty by him and indicate for him to turn.
Knives looks at me, eyes unblinking and yet unhostile.
"Bandages," I remind him.
"I wish sometimes that we were never born," he abruptly says.
For a moment that stumps me. It was so uncharacteristic of him to say that. "But we were. We just have to make the most of what we have."
Something flashes in his eyes and the Knives (the Plant that was born with a glare) that I know returns. "I suppose you want me to do good now," he sneers.
"Yes," I reply without hesitation. "I'll help you. They'll help you." I realize that I sound almost excited, emphatic, and Knives turns away.
"You're a fool, Vash."
I feel the retort come to my lips. "And you're a psychotic son of a – a . . ." A Plant? Come to think of it we weren't exactly sons of anyone. "Whatever. Why do you have to be *evil* all the time? Can't you be all cheery instead of psychotic just once in your life? Isn't it tiring?"
"Butterflies," he mumbles evilly.
"What?" I ask sharply.
"I – " he begins to say, but just then his head lolls over and he is asleep again.
I sigh and bend to change his bandages and tuck the blanket beneath his chin afterwards, wincing the whole time at the pain that shoots up my shoulder at every movement.
Okay. So he's not exactly friendly. But he's not talking as if he wants to blow up the world. Except for that last ominous comment about butterflies, I'd call that progress. Wouldn't you?
*******
A/N: Wow! That was almost angsty huh? Next chapter I'll be back to my original roots of fluff and cotton candy and tension. LOL. See you next chapter!