FORTY-ONE: means to an end
"We're running out of time."
Quinn flicked his cigarette out the window and into the roaring winds of the desert as it raced by. He didn't acknowledge Ariel as he pulled his hat low over his eyes and leaned back. A tiny smirk touched the corner of his mouth as he let his body relax. The plant-spawn continued to watch him from the corner of her eye.
"He's on his way, sir. We will be thrust into confrontation."
He savored the precious seconds of the silence before she would speak again, no matter how brief that time was. Quinn knew Ariel well, and he knew what she was capable of. Now, she would be in direct contact with the Humanoid Typhoon, the first time since he had disappeared. He now knew he'd gone to New Hope. That was fine with Quinn. As long as Vash had been in New Hope, he couldn't be out causing trouble as his army headed south.
"Quinn…"
He held up a hand to silence her, lay it back over his chest, but said nothing.
Ariel watched him for a few more moments before returning her attention to the road. Quinn considered his options. Right now, Vash the Stampede was the least of his concerns. That was why the bounty hunter Spike Spiegel had been obtained. Those two could go at it for as long as Spike could hold up. If he was anywhere as good as Starks claimed, it could be a very interesting day.
"I want you to separate them, Ariel."
"You mean Vash and his companions."
"Precisely. I do not care for Spiegel to know that Vash and that bitch Bran freed are together. While they're duking it out, you can keep Bran busy. The girls will stay with him so long as Vash appears to be missing."
"And what do I do with the bounty hunter after Vash defeats him?"
Quinn lifted the brim of his hat and gave her a cold stare. They both knew Vash wouldn't kill the bounty hunter. Spike would survive, at least at first, Quinn thought with a smirk.
"Eliminate him."
Vash stood tall in the back of Bran's jeep, Meryl sitting next to him. Uri was hunched over at Vash's right, tail wagging as his large head hang over the side through the window, tongue dragging over the side of his mouth. In the front, Faye leaned forward and watching the southern horizon for signs of Quinn's army as Bran drove on. Vash knew she couldn't see anything, only a vast amount of sand and horizon.
A hand rested gently on his. "Vash?"
He smiled down to the love of his life and lay a hand on her shoulder. He adjusted his goggles and peered again out to the endless desert before them. They were still many iles from the fringe, but who knew how much of a head start Quinn's army had on them. If there was anything they could use to their advantage, he didn't know what that could possibly be. He knew only that time was not their ally, and when it finally ran out, their whole world would come crashing down around them.
It would have been easier had he never rushed off to July in search of lost hope. Had he just stayed aboard the Flying Ship with the old man and all the others who had once been so lucky to remain in orbit over the desolate world of Gunsmoke. Vash hated thinking about all the possibilities, all the what-ifs and might-have-beens. The truth was that this was the unfortunate truth of his existence, and that because of Knives it would always be this way. All Vash could do was follow the path chosen for him, and meet fate with all his steadfast courage.
Vash considered what Knives would say if he were here.
I told you so, came a voice from beyond the grave
"Vash?" Meryl pressed, giving his arm a tug.
He glanced down to to her, offering her his brightest smile, despite the dread that filled his soul. "We're in this together," he said. "No ifs ands or buts about it."
She nodded. "Vash, what is the Millennium Arc?"
He frowned, trying to think of how best to describe the mystery that was only still unfolding in his mind. Before he could put words to a coherent thought, their world was lit up by the powerful burst of a mortar shell. The jeep spun wildly out of control, barreling off the road and dropping into a low, narrow gorge to the right of the road.
Vash cringed as he looked about. His eyes widened when he realized that the girls were both gone. Bran was rubbing the top of his head and groan.
"Ahhh…Bran have headache."
"Meryl, Faye!" Vash rose to his feet looking about. For a moment his heart stopped. This whole battle was about protecting the people he cared for, and now he had been so foolish that he had let them slip from his protective gaze. Where the hell had they gone? Only a moment later, to his relief, Uri dropped down on the hood of the jeep, both girls clinging to his fur. The massive dog lowered to a crouch, maw slightly parted in a snarl.
Just above them, Vash saw a tinge of red. He narrowed his eyes, fighting to get a better look.
It is a means to an end, Vash the Stampede. The voice in his head, cool, low, seductive, was one he recognized instantly.
"You," Vash hissed, his voice low. He shot Bran a look as his hand wrapped about the handle of his Angel Arm magnum. "Get them moving! I'll meet you at the Millennium Arc."
"Bran help Vash! Ariel is like Vash!"
"Bran, I need you to help Faye and Meryl. Please, just get going!"
"Vash, you can't–"
"Meryl! Don't argue with me. You need to scout out the Millennium Arc! They'll help you." He let the freshly-loaded machine gun spring free from the chamber in his prosthetic arm. "You've gotta trust me! Get moving."
"And what the hell are you going to do?" Faye demanded. She had her sidearm out and ready for a battle. Vash couldn't let her face that battle. This was a battle intended for him and him alone.
"I have a score to settle," he said darkly, and leapt up to the top of the gorge, vanishing from sight before any more protests could be made.
Soon he stood only a few feet from the female plant-spawn. The girl stared at him, stroking the blonde braid hanging over her left shoulder with blood-red gloves. He risked a glance to the gorge below and saw the others climbing back into the jeep. He had to smile as he heard the vehicle's power engines starting, and even started to run. Soon they wheeled out of a tight spot and down through the small gorge.
Even from this distance, he thought he could see Meryl watching back at him. Without so much as a wave, Vash turned back to face the woman, taking on a grim expression. She had a smug smirk on her face, a smirk he was determined to wipe away. Slowly, he drew the black magnum and took aim.
"Hello again, Vash. Did you miss me?"
Vash sneered. "Not even a little bit."
She smiled. "I'm quite touched, I assure you."
In that instant, a second mortar shell smashed into the earth between them, kicking dirt up into the air and concealing the woman from view.
Vash cursed, never taking his aim—both weapons firmly secured as he waited for the attack he knew was about to come—from the thick cloud. He had superb vision, but the dust was so thick he couldn't spot even the faintest movement in the darkness. He considered firing off a volley of bullets, but his conscience held him back. He saw no point in risking harm when there was a possibility of avoiding disaster.
"Come on," he whispered. "Where are you?"
And then, as the dust began to settle, he saw the one thing he did not intend.
The silhouette of a man appeared, a thick head of hair and something big and bulky resting over his right shoulder. He knew instantly what he was seeing.
"Wolfwood…" he mumbled as he lowered his weapons.
The man took a stride forward, lifting a brow. Like Wolfwood so often appeared, there was a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the Cross Punisher II slung over his shoulder. But this was not Wolfwood.
"Hey, Vash the Stampede," the man said. He removed the cross from his shoulder, slamming it into the desert floor, and unclipped the belt that held the tarp to the weapon. Without a doubt, it was Wolfwood's second Cross Punisher. He remembered telling Meryl that they had it, that they would somehow try to use it against them. "I've been looking all over the place for you."
Vash hadn't expected this, but it seemed fitting, even as the man lifted the weapon to his shoulder and took aim. He had to smile a little at the irony. "Sure you want to get into this?"
The stranger smirked. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
Vash nodded and lifted his weapons.
It was time for a showdown.
This was the part Meryl had dreaded, the moment in which she and Vash would be separated by obligation. She knew that he had to face the menace in red alone, and she knew that it was imperative that they somehow find themselves to the Millennium Arc, and that they must somehow do it without Vash guiding them. Now, their guide was Bran, the hulking brute of a man who had nearly been her enemy, now their friend by the grace of God.
Meryl thought it was an amazing thing, seeing the confidence in his eyes. She watched him with quiet curiosity, wanting to speak but finding there was nothing she could think to say. Fighting back the fear that had been eating at her, the worry that Vash may be in serious trouble, she observed the path just ahead.
In that moment, Uri touched her arm. She gave his nose a squeeze, thanking him silently for rescuing her and Faye. Everything will fall into place, Meryl.
She blinked, watching down at him. She knew the voice was only in her head, but she could have sworn by the look in Uri's eyes that he was thinking the same thing. She smiled grimly, scratching him behind the ears. He leaned forward, pressing the side of his face against her hand in an intimate gesture. She was amazed at how gentle he was. "I know," she whispered. "With Vash, things always do."
The big dog licked her face with his hot, rough tongue. She grinned. There was such intensity in those big blue eyes. Meryl thought about what she had heard of wolves, the stories that her father used to tell her all those years ago, how legend once spoke of the unique connection between man and wolf. It had occurred to her that Uri was more than what he seemed. He was simply too big to be a dog. A wolf? Perhaps. What she had once believed to be fairy tale, a children's story Richard Stryfe used to read to his daughter before bed, Uri seemed to have proved true. She would have been suspicious, but Vash had already taught her that nothing was impossible.
With a sigh, she leaned against the massive black beast. He leaned back against her, and she felt the confidence he gave her by simply offering her his friendship It gave Meryl hope in realm where darkness reigned, spilling light into her aching heart.
"How much further?" she asked him, not really expecting an answer.
Not far, Uri's eyes seemed to reply.
She smiled, but soon she drifted back to the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her mind. She knew how much it meant to them all that they stop Quinn from doing whatever it was he intended to do. She didn't know who Quinn was, but she was pretty sure that he was the one at the center of the madness that threatened to claim the whole of her world. Was it Quinn that had made Richard Stryfe into the man he had become? Was Quinn somehow responsible for ruining her life?
By that same token, was Quinn in some way responsible for Meryl meeting up with Vash the Stampede? The truth of the situation appeared to inevitable.
She had left home because of her father. Her father had become a Gung-Ho Gun, and had probably been guided just as much by Quinn's leadership than by Knives.
"Meryl," Faye said, turning back to look at her. "We're in this together. We'll find a way to help your friends."
Friends. Meryl shook her head.
Faye frowned. "What does that mean?"
"I was just thinking about Stryker and Milly. I'm worried ab–"
She was cut off by the sound of a gunshot tearing through the gorge. Bran jumped as he watched the hood of the jeep burst open, steam barreling through the fresh hole. "No! Jeep no drive!" He looked up. "Where? Where is it?"
A shadow suddenly appeared over Meryl, and she spun back to see a tall, feminine silhouette standing over her.
"Right here, Bran. Right here."
In that instant, Meryl tasted the leather of a blood-red boot. Her face exploded in pain and she collapsed to the floor of the jeep. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She coughed, spitting a pool of blood onto the floorboard. Another gunshot echoed through the gorge, but the woman in red turned to the right, letting the bullet miss by mere inches.
Without missing a beat, she pulled her own sidearm. Faye blinked and jumped from the jeep just as the glock was fired, tearing a huge hole into the leather seat where she had been only a moment before. Her own gun skidded away from her, and as she snatched at it she realized it was too far from her reach.
Uri leapt toward the plant-spawn. The crack of a gunshot ripped the still desert air. A spray of crimson splattered across the desert floor, and the dog let out a pained whimper. The plant-spawn smirked, wrenched the creature from midair, tossing him easily away from her, and turned back to the two women. She looked down at Meryl, the girl she needed, and then to Faye, the girl she that would only get in the way. The tough cookie.
"Just a moment, Meryl Stryfe. I've got a bug to swat." She hopped down and strode over to Faye. The scantily-clad bounty hunter was on her knees, facing away from her, trying to scramble to her sidearm. "Hey, Lucy the Liar. Sounds like you could be a Gung-Ho Gun, if you weren't such a wuss."
Faye clawed her way to within an arm-length of her weapon. No way in hell she would ever reach it. The plant-spawn had to smirk. "Enjoy this moment, Lucy. It'll be you last." She lifted the glock, taking aim. It would only be a second, and then Faye Valentine would be out of the picture. She started to squeeze the trigger.
As the gunshot filled the air, a mountain of human flesh crashed into the woman and pummeled her into the ground. Faye flinched, eyes clenched shut, but opened them a moment later to realize that she was unscathed. "Ariel no hurt pretty woman! Pretty woman Bran's friend!" He continued to swing at her, powerful fists slamming into her face and chest.
She held her own, lifting her gun even as she took the beating, and fired.
Bran's scream echoed out over all other sounds.
The woman kicked the freak of nature away, revealing the gaping wound in his stomach. The man was breathing heavily, using the last of his strength to live as all other functions shut down. Faye screamed out in terror as the man who had saved her for the second time lay bleeding to death before her. The female plant-spawn, red leather glistening with blood, grinned as she rose to her feet. Meryl could see that her face was badly hurt. Blood and bruises covered her face, and no doubt her nose was broken, as it now hung slightly to the left of her once perfect face.
She turned her head to the side and spit out a red wad, completely with tooth fragments. "Nice, Bran. You never could finish a job."
She took aim and fired three more shots into the poor man's skull. She grinned. A moment later, a gloved hand tapped her shoulder.
She turned and saw Faye standing right next to her, fury in her eyes.
"Eat this, bitch!"
This time, there was no getting out of the way. Faye's gun sparked, the crack of the gunshot echoing across the desert. Time stood still as the two girls watched as the plant-spawn's head disappeared in a crimson cloud.