He refused to speak to her. Three days later, and he still wouldn't even say hello. What was with that guy! He'd blow a man's legs out, crippling him for life, and let a sandworm make a meal of a giant who'd been about to kill hem, but when she was forced to kill a murderer in order save his life, he acted like she was the scum of the earth.
Ironically, that was how she felt right now. Like scum, but not because she'd shot and killed a man who had committed murder. Because she had destroyed any bit of respect Vash might have held for her. He'd trusted her, and now, because she'd been forced to kill someone to save him, he had lost all faith in her. Even after she's apologized and explained it all, he refused to listen.
Damn that man! How could he go on about how no one had a right to kill? There were times when one didn't have a choice, and she'd faced that. It was either kill that man or let him kill Vash. Hadn't she chosen right, to save a man who had done no wrong she could note as having been witnessed?
No, she had done the right thing, made the only choice she could. It was Frank's brutal death that was tearing Vash up, no question about it. God, to see the old man like that... Who would do such a thing, just to prove a point? Who could do such a horrible thing?
Vash had mentioned a name. Knives. Wait, Knives? What kind of name was Knives? For that matter, what parent was stupid enough to name their kid after a sharp bladed object? That wasn't the important thing, however. What did that name mean; who was Knives? And why did he relate to what had happened?
Where was Vash? Probably still at Frank's place, clearing things up before the cit did a clean out. He'd been there for two days straight though, how much did he intend to take with him? The funeral was in less that a day, so surely he was intending to attend that.
A knock at her door. Annette sighed and walked over to open the door and see the desk clerk standing there. "Yes?"
"A message from your friend," he stated. "He wanted you to know that he's leaving the evening."
He was leaving? Tonight? "Thank," she replied as she pushed her way passed the man and raced down the stairs. If Vash left now, there was no telling ho long it would take to find him again. There could only be one place he would be right now though. Annette breathed in deep and make a beeline for Frank Marlon's. Sure enough, Vash was here, from the fact his coat was hanging up on a wall-mounted rack. Odd, she'd never seen him with that thing off.
"Vash?" she called into the house, then listened for the sounds of tinkering from in the workshop. What was he doing in there? "Vash?" Annette repeated, walking through the house and into the workshop, where she found Vash hunched over Frank's worktable. "Vash, I know you probably hate me still for what I did, but...I-"
"I know why you did it," he said, still working on whatever was in front of him. What was that blue thing he was wearing? It looked like a body suit, but not any material she'd seen before. It didn't look like cotton. "You couldn't find any other option. That doesn't mean there wasn't another way, but you did what you thought was necessary." A pause in his work as he tilted his head slightly toward him. "Thank you for saving my life."
He was talking to her again. There was hope after all. "You're welcome," Annette whispered. Now he was fiddling with whatever he was working on. "If I might ask, what are you doing?"
"Frank finished the notes for rebuilding my guns before he was killed," he stated just as he finished up and stood up. On the table lay the two guns he'd always carried, except, just as he'd wished, they were now in the configuration of automatics instead of revolvers. Vash smiled, picked them up, and twirled them about on his fingers to test the balance. "Perfect, just like he figured out." Vash slipped the guns into their holsters, then picked up a cluster of automatic ammunition clips and stuck them to the side of his legs. Wait, they actually were staying there. How?
That look wasn't missed. "Spring loaded grips," he explained as he finished placing four of the clips to his legs and locking the last two into the grip of his guns. There was a sharp click as the clips locked in and the chambers loaded. "A little something I'd rigged up a while ago. It worked out for holding the clips on me, and there's switches on top so I can just pushed down with my guns and slide the clip right in for a fast reload." He paused for a moment, then gathered up some papers and folded them up before heading to get his coat.
He seemed to be in a better mood, but something was still wrong. "Vash..." Annette hesitated with her words. Over a month of trailing him, getting to know him, and she still couldn't understand this boy who claimed to be Vash the Stampede. He was a complete enigma, his views and code a paradox, and there was a mystery about him that refused to be solved.
"I should be going," he said as he walked to the front door and pulled his coat from the rack. After a minute or so to button up the front flap, he slipped on his sunglasses and headed out the door, Annette right behind him. His mood had completely changed from three nights ago; he'd been a bawling wreck, yet now, he was a calm and collected bundle of steel nerves. What was up with him?
As he made his way toward the edge of town, Vash paused and looked back at Annette. Something was troubling him. "I'm not sure you want to be sticking around with me," he said before resuming his walk. "I'm a dangerous man to be around, Miss Mallard, even if I myself am not dangerous."
"My job is to keep an eye on you," she replied pointedly while catching up with the young man. "You're not the man they say you are, Vash, everything I've seen proves it. But you're still a mystery to everyone. You blew a hole in the fifth moon of Gunsmoke, you were the cause of July and Augusta's destruction, yet you're one of the nicest people I've ever met, and you're more concerned with the lives of others than with your own life." She paused and tried to get a peek past those sunglasses. No luck. "Vash, I have to accept that you are who you say you are."
All he did was nod. "I still think you're better off staying as far away from me as possible," Vash stated as they left the city limits and headed off into the desert. "Gung-Ho Gun or not, that man the other night knew I was here, and came looking for me. He wasn't working alone, and he knows about Legato."
Legato now? Where had she heard that name before? Oh yes, in the Bernardeli reports! But they hadn't gone into too much detail about the man called Legato Bluesummers, just mention of his involvement with the Gung-Ho Guns. Speaking of which, she'd hopefully get some info on that name soon enough. The events of late had to relate to that gang somehow. Maybe Vash could shed some light on it.
"This, Legato," Annette intoned as they continued walking. There was a bus station not far from here, that had to be where Vash was headed. "Who is he, and why is he so important?"
Those reflective lenses turned toward her. If not for them, she might have been able to judge his expression better. As it was... "He was the leader of the Gung-Ho Guns until twenty years ago." The young man paused, like there was something about this memory he couldn't stand. "That man the other night claimed to have learned about me from Legato."
"And?"
A snort. "I know he was lying, because Legato Bluesummers is dead, has been since the Gung-Ho Guns were wiped out two decades ago." He hesitated in continuing, then shook his head. "I don't like to talk about it, alright?"
Yes, he evidentally didn't like to dwell on his past that much. What was he hiding from her? How did he know that this Legato Bluesummers was for sure dead? For that matter, who had been the one who killed Legato? Certianly not Vash, what with his code of never taking lives. Or, was there some reason he'd taken such a code? Did Legato relate to how Vash had adopted this creed he held? Just one more piece to the massive mystery that was Vash the Stampede.
With a deep drag of his cigarette, the man in the brown poncho and hat sighed after departing from the hotel. He'd apparently just missed the man he was looking for. Figured that was his luck. Spent all night waiting to catch Vash before he left, and he was already gone. Maybe he could catch him at the bus station.
One hand grabbing the straps of his giant metal cross, the man hefted it and headed out toward the nearby bus station. How could he be continuously missing Vash? It's not like the Humanoid Typhoon blended it well. He stood out in a crowd no matter what, with how tall he was alone, and his distinctive attire. And then his hair; long and spiked up. No sign of that yet. And as for those three he'd seen three nights ago...they were someone to look out for.
"I should have noticed him on the way in," he muttered while tossing his now spent cigarette to the sand and smothering it with his boot. He adjusted his hat to give his eyes more shade from the sun, then continued toward the bus station. No, his luck would be that he'd just missed him. He could find out which bus last left and follow.
Opening the door of the station with his free right hand, the man stepped in and walked over to the ticket booth. "Which bus just left in the last hour or so?"
"No buses have left yet," came the reply from the ticket agent. Hm, pretty, but she looked a bit too old for him. "Next bus leaves for Greenriver in fifteen minutes, we still have seats open."
Best lead he had right now. "I'll take a ticket on that one," he said, pulling out the double dollars and paying for his seat. Now, the metal cross hefted on his shoulder again, the man walked over and set it against the wall before taking a deep breath and looking around. No sign of Vash yet, and there was no one that tall in visible sight. Damnit, had it been another wild goose chase!
"You didn't have to pay for me too, Vash!"
Wait, what? Vash was here, then. How'd he miss him though, he knew exactly what Vash the Stampede looked like. Where was that hair style, those sunglasses? No sign of them at all. Maybe he should start looking for that coat he remembered from his memories...
"And you need to stop buying me lunch, too! I can take care of myself!"
"I'm sorry, but when it comes to a cute lady, I can't help myself!"
Oh yeah, that sounded like something Vash would say. The worst kind of womanizer imaginable, as in 'he couldn't pick up a girl even if he had lessons from Casanova, Lord Byron, and Johnny Depp combined'. Whoever the hell Johnny Depp was. Some actor who was popular well before pre-arrival.
Picking up his metal cross again, the man made his way to the small cafe in the station. Just as he'd thought, he finally caught sight of that trademark Duster walking toward him. Wait, something was wrong. The person wearing that coat; they were blonde alright, and wearing yellow lens sunglasses. But the hairstyle was all wrong, and so were the shades. More to the point, this person was about half a foot too short. That wasn't Vash! No way in hell could that be Vash, he was too short, and looked too young! And since when did Vash have three scars on his left cheek?
"You are so hopeless!" his female companion groaned while they walked past the man holding the cross. "No wonder I couldn't believe that you're the Stampede!"
If not for the fact that the call for the departing bus had been made, he would have pulled those two aside. As it was, he carried his cross and boarded the bus, now seating himself in the back near those two. Who was this boy who apparently was claiming to be Vash the Stampede?
He settled for laying his hat over his eyes and leaning back to get some sleep. It was several hours by bus to Greenriver, may as well use the time for a quick nap before questioning this guy. He did look a bit like the man he'd seen years ago, and in those old photos. Similar features, but the young man's eyes were hidden by those sunglasses. This couldn't be Vash though. Not unless Vash some how shrunk and got younger.
"Look, I don't wann'a talk about Legato! I bought you lunch and the bus ticket, can you just leave me alone about that!"
He knew about Legato! Okay, sleep could wait. He had to know now. "Excuse me," he intoned as he lifted his hat from over his face and set it back on top of his head. "I couldn't help but overhear that...you're talking about Legato Bluesummer, correct?"
Even with those sunglasses, the blonde didn't look too happy about the subject. "Yes, and I'd appreciate not having to tell about what happened."
From what he knew on the matter, the man with the hat knew that such a response was very much what should be expected of the real Vash. After all, the events surrounding Legato had been very traumatic for everyone involved. "Might I ask your name, kid?" he said while opening the window and lighting up a cigarette. "You look...familiar." Hm...best to play this guy's game and see why he was apparently claiming to be Vash.
He wasn't answering. Definitely a smart reaction. After all, in such a public spot, who would be that stupid? He seemed to be fingering something in his coat.
"Vash, would you just answer the man?"
Hm...this girl was either in on whatever scam was going on, or she'd been duped by it. "Vash?" he repeated in a low tone. "You're Vash the Stampede?" He glanced around, making sure no one else was listening in. Good they had a god six or so rows from the few other passengers. "Well, are you?"
"And if I am?" the blonde replied. "I suppose you'd like that big fat hundred billion that's on my head, wouldn't you?"
Now it wasn't so clear what was going on here. But the coat, that was definitely Vash's red Duster. One way or another, this kid had to have at least met the real Vash. "If you are Vash," he said calmly while blowing the inhaled smoke out the window, "then I'd be an idiot if I tried to take you in myself." A pause as he smiled and held his hand out. "I'm Nicholas W. Thompson, some call me 'Lone-Wolf Nick'."
His own hand carefully took Nick's, and Vash had a sense of suspicion in his gaze as he finally took off those sunglasses. Damn, he even had Vash's eyes. Whoever the kid was, he was good. "Lone-Wolf?" he asked. "Why do they call you Lone-Wolf?"
A shrug as he took another drag from his cigarette. "Because my middle name is Wolfwood, after my father."
Surprise, then realization as his eyes narrowed. "Nicholas Wolfwood is your father?" came the suspicious question.
So he's got a test for me as well. "Was." Nick sighed and sat back before throwing out yet another burned out cigarette butt. "He was killed eight months before I was born, so my mom raised me all by herself." There was hesitation then. Time to test how slick this guy was in his scam.
"Your mother is Milly Thompson then," came the conclusion. Well, so far, 'Vash' proved he knew things that few people did, and Vash the Stampede was one of them. "You have her eyes, and your father's face." His eyes shifted to the large cross that sat in the very back. "And his old Cross Punisher." A pause as Vash glanced back to Nick again. "I owe my life to that thing, Mister Thompson, and thusly, to your father."
A hand went up to brush away formalities. "Call me Nick," he stated while smiling. "After all, you knew my parents personally."
Yes, Vash was nodding. Damn, this guy was good. How the hell did he know all this stuff, stuff that his mother was one of the few people who knew it? If he didn't know the truth, he'd have sworn this was Vash the Stampede. More importantly, how did this kid know that the large metal cross had belonged to his father?
"You think I'm not Vash."
That came as a surprise. "What makes you say that?" Nick asked carefuly. He kept his eyes now on the young man' hands. "Why do I have a reason to doubt you?"
Now Vash smiled. "Because your mother knew me, you've seen me once when you were a baby, and I don't look like you remember." He shifted his gaze toward the outside. "We have company."
There was no time to ask what that meant. Moments later, the bus suddenly was flung to its side, everyone screaming as it flipped and slid on the ground before coming to a halt. Vash stood up in the overturned bus, slipping his sunglasses back on and drawing out his guns. Now Nick was staring in shock. Despite the work to make it into an automatic, that silver handgun was the very same one he'd seen when he'd been only months old. How did this kid have it?
No time to ponder that. There was laughter coming from outside, insane laughter that Nick recognized as the Ravager; desert cannibals who attacked unlucky travelers for food. He'd never heard of them hitting a bus though. "You alright?" he asked as he helped the young lady up to her feet. "I don't believe I caught your name."
"Annette Mallard," she snapped, now drawing out her own Eagle 9s and flipping the safeties off. "And thank you, Nick."
Well, so long as everyone was getting ready for the inevitable fight, he may as well join in. Nick grabbed his cross from the ground, tapped one of the arms, and revealed a rack of five matte-black nine millimeters. He grabbed a pair, hit the hidden switch to shut the compartment, then clicked off the safeties. "Looking forward to a good killing spree?" he asked of Vash. This was the big one. If this was a scam, the kid was bound to screw up with-
"We kill no one," he hissed in response. "Shot to disable only, and bring in the injured so the Ravagers don't eat their own wounded."
And Nick's jaw almost dropped. There was no way any con-artist could have known that's how Vash would have replied to such a question. Who was this kid, how did he know so much about the real Vash and how he thought? Hell, he had to have some connection to Vash. He looked a lot like the legendary gunman, even had the same eyes and golden hair. Was he Vash's son? Not with Meryl, she'd never had any children, especially Vash's. So, then who was this boy?
A shot rang out. As a window shattered and rained down, Vash moved uner the opening and leapt up onto the bus. "We got six Ravagers!" he called back down into the bus. "Annette, aim only for their hand and feet! Nick, I pray to God that you don't decide to gun any of them down, no matter how much you may believe that's what they deserve!"
Yes, he definitely thought like Vash. He didn't talk like him though. This kid was more serious, more commanding instead of seemingly lost and making it up as he went along. "I'll do my best," he muttered before climbing out the window hole to join Vash outside. "So, what do we do?"
Vash tapped the side of his sunglasses. "Find the leader and disable him," he replied after setting his glasses to audio locking. "Ravagers don't go for a kill if their leader is down, and he's the only one they won't turn into dinner."
Yes, but which one was the leader of these disgusting looking nomads? They weren't even human, why was this boy so up on not killing any of them? While he couldn't be Vash himself, he certainly so far had proven himself a real successor.
"Send out five of passengers, and we'll let the rest go!"
Vash grinned and raised his revolvers while pressing against the roof of the overturned bus. "That's the leader," he muttered. He looked out from behind his cover, keeping an eye on the group of six cannibals. "How do we know you'll keep to your word!" he cried back. If that same moron replied...
"You don't, so just give us dinner and trust us to let you go!"
Yep, that idiot had opened his yap, and Vash now had a lock on him. "And you can trust me to kick your asses," he whispered before stepping out from behind the bus and firing right at the man who was locked into his sunglasses' scanner. Two bullets tore into the cannibal's legs, bringing him down to the ground while his companions stared in horror. "Anyone else wann'a set terms with the Humanoid Typhoon!"
"Vash the Stampede!"
Yep, that got them gathering their wounded leader and running for it. That was actually easier than he'd thought. Twirling his guns on his fingers, Vash slipped them back into their holsters and turned to see Nick with his jaw about to hit the ground. "We need to keep watch until a rescue truck can come out and gather everyone," he said while now setting his sunglasses back to normal vision. "They've been scared off, but you can bet that they'll come back later if they think it's worth it to risk the Humanoid Typhoon."
If there had been any doubt that this boy had some connection to Vash, it was gone now. He couldn't be Vash himself, but the skies be damned if he didn't have ties to the living legend. Only Vash could have pulled off that kind of a stunt, and only Vash would have been so focused on leaving his opponent alive and able to recover. Who was this kid?
The sun was starting to set by the time an armed rescue crew came to pick up the passengers and take them back to the station. Vash had opted to just keep walking and find another way to Greenriver on the way. That made sure that Annette and Nick stayed with him.
"You know, you don't have to be following me around," the young man said as they made camp on a series of bluffs. The Ravagers were far from their location, so there was no worries of waking up to find they were in the boiler. "Annie's doing it because of her job, but you..."
Nick sighed and lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then exhaled before he thought on an answer. The most direct response was to tell the kid that he was on to him and demand the truth. But, that might not pan out well. Another option was just to leave things be, but then he got no information. The only real way to find out what was going on was sadly the direct route.
"I know that you're not the real Vash," he said while tossing that cigarette into the rocks. When Annette stared at him, Nick sighed and gestured to Vash. "I know for a fact that you can't be him, because you're far too short. Vash the Stampede is tall, he's around six foot four, while you look to be about, I'd say five-eight, five-nine." A pause as he ran down the list. God, had it gotten chopped down since earlier. "You also are a lot younger looking that he is, and his hair is spiked up, while you...well, we can see how you look. You also have your left arm, Vash doesn't."
He half-expected a violent denial, some outburst to defend himself. The response he got was farthest from that. Vash actually was laughing as he pulled off his sunglasses, slipped them into a pocket on his coat, and clapped for Nick's deductions. "Bravo, Mister Thompson," he said while grinning. Even with Annette staring at him in shock, Vash wasn't phased. "Considering your mother was one of the agents who chased the Humanoid Typhoon two decades ago, I had indeed hoped that you would recognize the discrepancies."
Her jaw refused to shut from just how much Vash had just admitted to. He wasn't the real Humanoid Typhoon? But then why make the claim, how was he able to do things that only Vash could do?
"I still don't get how you know things that only Vash could know."
The young man chuckled as he pulled out his autos and set them on the ground. "How do you think I got these guns and my coat, Nick? More precisely, who do you think gave them to me?"
His brow knit as he tried to figure out what this boy was driving at. Only one person could have given him those weapons and that red Duster. "Vash himself, and my question is, how, and why."
A shrug as he reclaimed his firearms. "Well, I supposed I owe you both a full explanation." He paused for a moment, breathed in, then smiled. "I'm not the original Vash the Stampede, that much is true." He glanced to Annette, noting just how confused she was as she tried comprehending it all. "But I am Vash the Stampede now. The original Vash gave me his name when I left his care two years ago."
Very interesting. "Left his care?" Nick inquired while shifting his position. Now things were starting to make a bit of sense, but there were massive questions still left. "So, you are his son then?"
Again, there was that grin. "You could say that," Vash replied while now poking the fire to keep it going. "Vash raised me like a son, so in a way, he's my father. He taught me everything I know. Turned me into his complete equal as a gunman, and gave me the code that I have lived by ever since." His eyes flashed to Nick, and in the light of the campfire, they looked like they were glowing. "No one has the right to take the life of another. Not for any reason, not for any purpose. Only nature has the right to take back what it has given."
"You're not Vash the Stampede!" Annette screamed out. She couldn't believe this. She had been completely convinced, and now he admitted to being a fraud!
As he winced from the sheer volume, Vash shook his head. "Not the original Vash, Annie. But for all intents and purposes, I am Vash the Stampede now. Whoever I was before doesn't matter, because I am the guy they're looking for now."
"Which leaves the question," Nick stated. He sighed while Vash looked over to him. Annette still wasn't sure if she was going to tear her hair out or not. Hopefully not, she had lovely hair. "Who were you before you became Vash?"
He waggled a finger back and forth at the older man. "That's something I can't tell you, Mister Thompson. I will tell you, however, that you are quite right; I'm far too young to be the original Vash. I'm only nineteen years old, about two years younger than you."
No wonder he'd felt like he was just a kid. But damn, he had one hell of a commanding presence. He wasn't kidding; for all things that mattered, he was Vash the Stampede. A gunman so incredible that he was without equal, a humanoid typhoon. And even Annette was realizing that point. He may not be the Vash that started it all, but he was still Vash. This was the guy she'd been sent to investigate, and even if some of the mystery had been peeled away, there were layers upon layers to unearth. Who had he been, why had the original Vash raised him?
For that matter, why was he taking Vash's place and willingly becoming the target of a multi-billion double dollar manhunt? What did he get out of it? Or did he expect anything out of all this? What was he looking to gain?
And then, she realized she had her clues. It dealt with the Gung-Ho Guns, this Legato Bluesummers. And Knives. Someone called Knives, that had to be the key to it all. He had always acted upset, even disturbed, when she asked him specifically about Knives. Even if he hadn't actually met Legato, he had met this person named Knives, and it held the key to why he had become the Humanoid Typhoon.
It would have to wait. He obviously wasn't ready to tell them everything. What he'd said was enough as it was. But, she knew that she couldn't let Verandil know what she'd discovered here. If it was known that there was not just one, but two Humanoid Typhoons, the whole planet would go crazy in the hunt for both of them. And obviously, the original Vash did not want to be found. Had he found a peaceful life, able to rest with this boy taking his place, accepting the burden for Vash? There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew that this Vash wasn't ready to give the answers.
And hiding in the mountains, a figure watched the trio. He laughed to himself, pulled out a communications device, then whispered into it before turning and leaving the area.
They'd finally found him.
