Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, but I took the liberty to add in some
missing detail that I did not find in the series.
As always, they met in a dark room, it was never any different. Must have been a sort of fetish Knives had for the dark, the gloomy cold that it had to offer, almost like a drug. It was a larger room, not titanic in size, but fair enough to rival most in this place, this supposed Eden that was created by his hands. A window was open on the east wall near the ceiling, a good twenty-five feet up. Blinding sunlight filtered through it, spotlighting Knives. If he had wings, the man would have passed as the angel of death the way he stood there, shoulders squared, tall, dignified, face hidden in a shadow, nothing but his eyes keeping vigil was visible.
Midvalley stood there in unconditional silence, trying to keep his composure, trying to stay suave. He had taken the autonomy to put on a change of clothes before appearing in the presence of Knives, it would have been discreditable had he come looking like an unmade bed. Smoothing out a wrinkle in his white suit and making sure the collar of his favorite pink shirt was unfurled, he gave a bow to the man before him, not wanting to be disrespectful, especially no to a being as powerful as he. Knives made no indications that he was even aware of Midvalley's presence, he just stood there in stony silence, staring right through the lesser being opposing him. Something had gotten to him. Something had upset the balance.
"Do you know what happens to those who disobey me?" Knives' voice echoed through the room, making everything else seem so little and unimportant in comparison. Indeed, something was going on, malevolence was coded in his pitch.
"Yes. . .Master" Midvalley's own voice replied with the demeanor of a cornered mouse against his will. It almost made him wince the way he sounded so pathetically insignificant.
"What did I tell you about him?" Again, Knives stern tone carried through strong.
"Keep away from him at all times unless told to do otherwise....Master"
"And what did you do?" The emphasis went heavily on the last word, like he was scolding someone.
"I fed him? Master."
"And?"
"Comforted him. . .Master?"
"Exactly. If you intend on living another day you will leave him alone, do you understand?" Spoken with as much understanding as a chronic sociopath could congregate, it was in the least, a statement coming from the bottomless pit of the dark soul Knives possessed.
"Yes Master."
"Good, now leave!" The voice sent a chill down the Hornfreak's spine, quite an accomplishment on its own.
~~
Midvalley walked briskly down the hallway, feet beating against the solitary white tiled floor, deeply flustered by 'master' Knives. What kind of idiot had he been to surrender all free will and ideas just to live a few more years? Must have been the music talking instead of him, that crazy wonderful music. Maybe it was worth it after all.
When he arrived at his door he searched his pockets for the key, tilting his head backwards in defeat when he didn't find it on the first try. Lazily, he wondered if he was genius enough to lock himself out of his own room, he was leaning towards the theory that he as when he removed his suit and thoroughly went through the pockets. In a bout of anger he threw the coat against the door and paced back and forth, trying to let some steam out. It took him a while before he finally reached to pick up his coat and put it back on, he could not have cared less at the time whether it was dirty now or not. The main problem was figuring a way inside before someone noticed. He hadn't been around this place more than a day or two; the absolute last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself when he was new. In a last attempt to free himself, he searched his pockets one last time to no avail.
"Damnit." He snapped as he withdrew his hands from his pockets, running them through his hair, a nervous habit. "Where the he-"
Something beneath his foot crunched. Raising his leather clad foot to see what in damnation it was, he found the little silver key mocking him right in the face like it had been there all along.
"Bastard. . ." Midvalley spat while he bent over to retrieve the key.
~~
Legato sat on his bed staring out the glassless window into oblivion. There was nothing to look at anyway, sand, sand, and if you were lucky, more sand. He sighed and dangled his arm outside. Maybe master was angry with him; he had not visited all day. Could it be he found Midvalley and I? No, master would have let me know. Is he thinking of ways to punish me and just torturing me right now to drive me insane, and-. . .No, not that either. Why hasn't Midvalley been around? That cake was very good. I wonder if he has more. . .I wish someone were here, even if it was that Edgar Mine. I never quite got what inspired him to wear that stupid ball thing everywhere. You think he would have trouble going to the bathroom and what not.
A loud thud disrupted Legato's thinking. He eyed the wall wearily then returned his gaze to the red desert plain, preparing for another glorious day of boredom in the excruciating heat; the very though zapped half of the energy out of him. The noise came again. This time Legato walked over and pressed his head to the wall. Muffled cursing and loud footsteps pounded like thunder from Midvalley's room. Legato only rolled his eyes, this man was far more trouble than he was worth. Imbecile human scum. . .
In no time at all Legato pulled on a semi-clean white shirt and a pair ragged, tan colored cloth pants and stuck his head out the open door. No one was coming; it was safe to assume everybody else was out and about at this hour.
Stepping outside his door and taking an astounding three whole steps across the hall to room twelve, Midvalley's of course, he knocked lightly on the cheap plastic door, it creaked open a hair, revealing nothing but a dark room without windows, or much else for that matter. The cursing did not seem to stop so Legato pushed the door open just a little further. As he has assumed, there was barely anything in the room, just a bed, neatly made, a table with clean, pressed clothes draped across it, and a nightstand with all manor of thing upon it, most notable was a bottle of red wine and a box of condoms, and a variety of devices that could be used for some rather obscene purposes. One did not have to go far to guess what his mind was usually on.
Curiously He poked his head in, making damn sure he did not bump his shoulder on the door, giving away his presence. His eyes darted around, surveying the place before he even dared to waltz in. It looked pretty safe, with the exception that Midvalley was nowhere in sight. Taking his first step, he stubbed his toes on another wine bottle; it occurred to him that it might have been the cause of the first noise.
"So, that's why the schlemiel is angry" Legato muttered under his breath.
"Who's there?" Midvalley growled, his words were slurred with the presence of alcohol. He took a step or two forward, stumbling over his own two feet and crashing to the ground like a ton of bricks.
Quickly, Legato shut the door and raced back to his own room. Midvalley sounded angry, anger usually meant one thing. Punishment. By the time Midvalley made it to his feet again and slammed his door wide-open, Legato was safely tucked into bed and pretending to sleep. He even pulled the hole- ridden sheet over his head and clung onto it for blessed life. Biting his lip in anticipation, he listened to Midvalley the Hornfreak plod up and down the hall, muttering every profanity his narrow mind could possibly conjure up. The bout of anger stopped almost as soon as it had started, then entire building fell into an unnatural silence. Cautiously, Legato traced his fingers over the diaphanous sheets that he used to protect himself and, after a time, gained the courage to remove them. His eyes zipped around nervously as they had before, ready to snap shut the instant he saw something was out of place.
"You wanted to see me?" a half-drunken Midvalley stuttered, a scandalous smile on his lips, and a fresh bottle of Ascott brandy in his hand.
Frantically searching around for the source of the voice, he spotted Midvalley leaning against his doorway, legs barely able to support his weight; chances were that the building was the only thing keeping him upright. His clothes were amiss, furrowed, something that was highly unlikely to occur in the norm for him. Dark circles hung around his eyes, a sharp difference when you take into matters his newly pallid face, must have been something horrible to drain the color from him.
"I want nothing of the sort."
"C'mon you know you want me." Midvalley cackled, nearly about to fall over with that action.
"What makes you think that, human?" A new defiance rang in his voice.
Midvalley's face went from happy and drunken loon to pure austerity. His brown hair, normally slicked back was in disarray, his eyes glassed over by the effects of alcohol, and his lips pulled into a straight, narrow line across his face. Legato's Pupils shrank into tiny specs, he took a closer look at Midvalley; obviously the man was nothing less than incompetent at the moment, but his weary features exhumed a memory long since buried.
-Flashback-
"Legato. . .Come mere' boy. Don't you want to see your ol' man anymore?" Bourbon slurred his light southern accent. Normally he was drunk, hell, he was always drunk, had been since mom died, he never quite got over it. None of us did, but he was the only one drinking his life away, about to orphan two innocent children.
He sat in his broken down black chair and ran a hand through his thick, brown hair, so unlike mine in color and texture. His eyes, black if I remember, clouded with the pleasant bliss of drowning yourself in liquor; it's all he ever cared about. Lazily, he let his glass slip to the floor; it rolled across the room and stopped at my feet. Uncertainly I retrieved the empty china and replaced it to its rightful place on the fine glass coffee table, possibly the only nice thing in our crummy apartment, it was mom's.
"Boy, come sit with me for a moment. . .Want to talk to you about school." His silver-tongued baritone voice was composed, respectable, but his manor refused to let me see him as his voice presented.
As I took a closer look at him I can see that the damned pink blouse he was so insistent on wearing was stained with blood. He did not seem to mind though; he left it half unbuttoned at the bottom. Something caught my eye; a pin that was fastened to the cuff of his sleeve, 'Orion B. Summers, assistant manager of Pete's Saloon' was engraved plain as day on the small, gold pin. Assistant manager my ass. All he has ever done for six months was get piss drunk and come home, expecting undying love from me. Love in more ways than one.
Like I was told I took a seat on the arm of his chair. He smiled his dopey, lopsided smile, pushed me on his lap, and started his evil little tickling war. I squirmed and writhed under his fingers, if there was one, and only one thing he was ever good at, it was finding the most sensitive place and brushing his finger over it. After a long while of senseless playing he put me back up on the arm of his chair.
'Maybe he isn't so bad after all.' Was one of the many stupid things I thought as a child, and my first mistake.
As Orion got up and shuffled his way to his bedroom I followed; I knew what would happen if I did not, my sister was too precious to risk. He sat down on his tan cloth sheets and removed one ungodly smelling shoe after another, then fell back onto his mattress, barely aware of anything besides the pornographic thoughts encircling his mind. Now was the time for me to climb onto his bed and mingle with the buttons on his blouse, if he ruined it, -I- of all people would be blamed. When all the buttons were carefully undone I rolled him over to completely remove the article of clothing and discarded it on the back of the dresser. His skin was cold to the touch, had I not know better I would have thought he was dead. Out of lament more than pity I moved him to his back and clung on his broad chest, giving away what heat I could spare. He was my dad after all; I still loved him, even if it was questionable. He was the only parent I had, and I was grateful.
"Legato?" He moaned in his somnolence.
"Yes father?"
He pushed himself up on his elbows, making me slide down to his waist. There was already something waiting for me there. A wistful glint hung in his eyes while he stared upon my fragile, young body.
"Do you know what I want don't you boy?" A hand ruffed my navy hair and traced down my neck to my back.
Tears welled behind my eyes; tears of regret, sorrow, and gratitude. Obeying the unspoken law of his, that I must follow come hell or high water, I unfastened his belt and waited for what was coming next. Letting him please himself for the few moments before he sought higher entertainment, I slinked to the side of the bed and tried my hardest to remember why I was doing his. His moans of pleasure only proved to raise the nausea in me, I couldn't stand him, his sounds, his body, his very being. I know he's not like the other fathers. I've seen them. They love their children; a hug or kiss never was anything more than a symbol of that love. None of the other fathers ever hit their children like mine did. None of the other kids ever had to explain to the principal about the bruises.
'My sister. My sister, she is why I let have me. She will not be his. Ever.' I repeated over and over in my head, she gave me something to hope for, she gave me a reason to stay, and she gave me a promise of a bright future.
"" Legato, it's time."
-End-
Hot breath caressed Legato in fumes of cheap brandy and foreign gin, unpleasant to say the least. Apparently while he was preoccupied with digging up the past, the dolt had taken the chance to get close to him. Without further ado Midvalley took a seat on Legato's bed, wrapped his arms around his waist, and laid his head comfortably on the other man's lap, smiling contently as he nuzzled his way into a more comfortable position.
As always, they met in a dark room, it was never any different. Must have been a sort of fetish Knives had for the dark, the gloomy cold that it had to offer, almost like a drug. It was a larger room, not titanic in size, but fair enough to rival most in this place, this supposed Eden that was created by his hands. A window was open on the east wall near the ceiling, a good twenty-five feet up. Blinding sunlight filtered through it, spotlighting Knives. If he had wings, the man would have passed as the angel of death the way he stood there, shoulders squared, tall, dignified, face hidden in a shadow, nothing but his eyes keeping vigil was visible.
Midvalley stood there in unconditional silence, trying to keep his composure, trying to stay suave. He had taken the autonomy to put on a change of clothes before appearing in the presence of Knives, it would have been discreditable had he come looking like an unmade bed. Smoothing out a wrinkle in his white suit and making sure the collar of his favorite pink shirt was unfurled, he gave a bow to the man before him, not wanting to be disrespectful, especially no to a being as powerful as he. Knives made no indications that he was even aware of Midvalley's presence, he just stood there in stony silence, staring right through the lesser being opposing him. Something had gotten to him. Something had upset the balance.
"Do you know what happens to those who disobey me?" Knives' voice echoed through the room, making everything else seem so little and unimportant in comparison. Indeed, something was going on, malevolence was coded in his pitch.
"Yes. . .Master" Midvalley's own voice replied with the demeanor of a cornered mouse against his will. It almost made him wince the way he sounded so pathetically insignificant.
"What did I tell you about him?" Again, Knives stern tone carried through strong.
"Keep away from him at all times unless told to do otherwise....Master"
"And what did you do?" The emphasis went heavily on the last word, like he was scolding someone.
"I fed him? Master."
"And?"
"Comforted him. . .Master?"
"Exactly. If you intend on living another day you will leave him alone, do you understand?" Spoken with as much understanding as a chronic sociopath could congregate, it was in the least, a statement coming from the bottomless pit of the dark soul Knives possessed.
"Yes Master."
"Good, now leave!" The voice sent a chill down the Hornfreak's spine, quite an accomplishment on its own.
~~
Midvalley walked briskly down the hallway, feet beating against the solitary white tiled floor, deeply flustered by 'master' Knives. What kind of idiot had he been to surrender all free will and ideas just to live a few more years? Must have been the music talking instead of him, that crazy wonderful music. Maybe it was worth it after all.
When he arrived at his door he searched his pockets for the key, tilting his head backwards in defeat when he didn't find it on the first try. Lazily, he wondered if he was genius enough to lock himself out of his own room, he was leaning towards the theory that he as when he removed his suit and thoroughly went through the pockets. In a bout of anger he threw the coat against the door and paced back and forth, trying to let some steam out. It took him a while before he finally reached to pick up his coat and put it back on, he could not have cared less at the time whether it was dirty now or not. The main problem was figuring a way inside before someone noticed. He hadn't been around this place more than a day or two; the absolute last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself when he was new. In a last attempt to free himself, he searched his pockets one last time to no avail.
"Damnit." He snapped as he withdrew his hands from his pockets, running them through his hair, a nervous habit. "Where the he-"
Something beneath his foot crunched. Raising his leather clad foot to see what in damnation it was, he found the little silver key mocking him right in the face like it had been there all along.
"Bastard. . ." Midvalley spat while he bent over to retrieve the key.
~~
Legato sat on his bed staring out the glassless window into oblivion. There was nothing to look at anyway, sand, sand, and if you were lucky, more sand. He sighed and dangled his arm outside. Maybe master was angry with him; he had not visited all day. Could it be he found Midvalley and I? No, master would have let me know. Is he thinking of ways to punish me and just torturing me right now to drive me insane, and-. . .No, not that either. Why hasn't Midvalley been around? That cake was very good. I wonder if he has more. . .I wish someone were here, even if it was that Edgar Mine. I never quite got what inspired him to wear that stupid ball thing everywhere. You think he would have trouble going to the bathroom and what not.
A loud thud disrupted Legato's thinking. He eyed the wall wearily then returned his gaze to the red desert plain, preparing for another glorious day of boredom in the excruciating heat; the very though zapped half of the energy out of him. The noise came again. This time Legato walked over and pressed his head to the wall. Muffled cursing and loud footsteps pounded like thunder from Midvalley's room. Legato only rolled his eyes, this man was far more trouble than he was worth. Imbecile human scum. . .
In no time at all Legato pulled on a semi-clean white shirt and a pair ragged, tan colored cloth pants and stuck his head out the open door. No one was coming; it was safe to assume everybody else was out and about at this hour.
Stepping outside his door and taking an astounding three whole steps across the hall to room twelve, Midvalley's of course, he knocked lightly on the cheap plastic door, it creaked open a hair, revealing nothing but a dark room without windows, or much else for that matter. The cursing did not seem to stop so Legato pushed the door open just a little further. As he has assumed, there was barely anything in the room, just a bed, neatly made, a table with clean, pressed clothes draped across it, and a nightstand with all manor of thing upon it, most notable was a bottle of red wine and a box of condoms, and a variety of devices that could be used for some rather obscene purposes. One did not have to go far to guess what his mind was usually on.
Curiously He poked his head in, making damn sure he did not bump his shoulder on the door, giving away his presence. His eyes darted around, surveying the place before he even dared to waltz in. It looked pretty safe, with the exception that Midvalley was nowhere in sight. Taking his first step, he stubbed his toes on another wine bottle; it occurred to him that it might have been the cause of the first noise.
"So, that's why the schlemiel is angry" Legato muttered under his breath.
"Who's there?" Midvalley growled, his words were slurred with the presence of alcohol. He took a step or two forward, stumbling over his own two feet and crashing to the ground like a ton of bricks.
Quickly, Legato shut the door and raced back to his own room. Midvalley sounded angry, anger usually meant one thing. Punishment. By the time Midvalley made it to his feet again and slammed his door wide-open, Legato was safely tucked into bed and pretending to sleep. He even pulled the hole- ridden sheet over his head and clung onto it for blessed life. Biting his lip in anticipation, he listened to Midvalley the Hornfreak plod up and down the hall, muttering every profanity his narrow mind could possibly conjure up. The bout of anger stopped almost as soon as it had started, then entire building fell into an unnatural silence. Cautiously, Legato traced his fingers over the diaphanous sheets that he used to protect himself and, after a time, gained the courage to remove them. His eyes zipped around nervously as they had before, ready to snap shut the instant he saw something was out of place.
"You wanted to see me?" a half-drunken Midvalley stuttered, a scandalous smile on his lips, and a fresh bottle of Ascott brandy in his hand.
Frantically searching around for the source of the voice, he spotted Midvalley leaning against his doorway, legs barely able to support his weight; chances were that the building was the only thing keeping him upright. His clothes were amiss, furrowed, something that was highly unlikely to occur in the norm for him. Dark circles hung around his eyes, a sharp difference when you take into matters his newly pallid face, must have been something horrible to drain the color from him.
"I want nothing of the sort."
"C'mon you know you want me." Midvalley cackled, nearly about to fall over with that action.
"What makes you think that, human?" A new defiance rang in his voice.
Midvalley's face went from happy and drunken loon to pure austerity. His brown hair, normally slicked back was in disarray, his eyes glassed over by the effects of alcohol, and his lips pulled into a straight, narrow line across his face. Legato's Pupils shrank into tiny specs, he took a closer look at Midvalley; obviously the man was nothing less than incompetent at the moment, but his weary features exhumed a memory long since buried.
-Flashback-
"Legato. . .Come mere' boy. Don't you want to see your ol' man anymore?" Bourbon slurred his light southern accent. Normally he was drunk, hell, he was always drunk, had been since mom died, he never quite got over it. None of us did, but he was the only one drinking his life away, about to orphan two innocent children.
He sat in his broken down black chair and ran a hand through his thick, brown hair, so unlike mine in color and texture. His eyes, black if I remember, clouded with the pleasant bliss of drowning yourself in liquor; it's all he ever cared about. Lazily, he let his glass slip to the floor; it rolled across the room and stopped at my feet. Uncertainly I retrieved the empty china and replaced it to its rightful place on the fine glass coffee table, possibly the only nice thing in our crummy apartment, it was mom's.
"Boy, come sit with me for a moment. . .Want to talk to you about school." His silver-tongued baritone voice was composed, respectable, but his manor refused to let me see him as his voice presented.
As I took a closer look at him I can see that the damned pink blouse he was so insistent on wearing was stained with blood. He did not seem to mind though; he left it half unbuttoned at the bottom. Something caught my eye; a pin that was fastened to the cuff of his sleeve, 'Orion B. Summers, assistant manager of Pete's Saloon' was engraved plain as day on the small, gold pin. Assistant manager my ass. All he has ever done for six months was get piss drunk and come home, expecting undying love from me. Love in more ways than one.
Like I was told I took a seat on the arm of his chair. He smiled his dopey, lopsided smile, pushed me on his lap, and started his evil little tickling war. I squirmed and writhed under his fingers, if there was one, and only one thing he was ever good at, it was finding the most sensitive place and brushing his finger over it. After a long while of senseless playing he put me back up on the arm of his chair.
'Maybe he isn't so bad after all.' Was one of the many stupid things I thought as a child, and my first mistake.
As Orion got up and shuffled his way to his bedroom I followed; I knew what would happen if I did not, my sister was too precious to risk. He sat down on his tan cloth sheets and removed one ungodly smelling shoe after another, then fell back onto his mattress, barely aware of anything besides the pornographic thoughts encircling his mind. Now was the time for me to climb onto his bed and mingle with the buttons on his blouse, if he ruined it, -I- of all people would be blamed. When all the buttons were carefully undone I rolled him over to completely remove the article of clothing and discarded it on the back of the dresser. His skin was cold to the touch, had I not know better I would have thought he was dead. Out of lament more than pity I moved him to his back and clung on his broad chest, giving away what heat I could spare. He was my dad after all; I still loved him, even if it was questionable. He was the only parent I had, and I was grateful.
"Legato?" He moaned in his somnolence.
"Yes father?"
He pushed himself up on his elbows, making me slide down to his waist. There was already something waiting for me there. A wistful glint hung in his eyes while he stared upon my fragile, young body.
"Do you know what I want don't you boy?" A hand ruffed my navy hair and traced down my neck to my back.
Tears welled behind my eyes; tears of regret, sorrow, and gratitude. Obeying the unspoken law of his, that I must follow come hell or high water, I unfastened his belt and waited for what was coming next. Letting him please himself for the few moments before he sought higher entertainment, I slinked to the side of the bed and tried my hardest to remember why I was doing his. His moans of pleasure only proved to raise the nausea in me, I couldn't stand him, his sounds, his body, his very being. I know he's not like the other fathers. I've seen them. They love their children; a hug or kiss never was anything more than a symbol of that love. None of the other fathers ever hit their children like mine did. None of the other kids ever had to explain to the principal about the bruises.
'My sister. My sister, she is why I let have me. She will not be his. Ever.' I repeated over and over in my head, she gave me something to hope for, she gave me a reason to stay, and she gave me a promise of a bright future.
"" Legato, it's time."
-End-
Hot breath caressed Legato in fumes of cheap brandy and foreign gin, unpleasant to say the least. Apparently while he was preoccupied with digging up the past, the dolt had taken the chance to get close to him. Without further ado Midvalley took a seat on Legato's bed, wrapped his arms around his waist, and laid his head comfortably on the other man's lap, smiling contently as he nuzzled his way into a more comfortable position.