FORTY-SEVEN: access denied

"You sure this is the right thing to do?" Vash asked, peering across the archway, just on the inside of the sealed entrance. On the other side of the door, chaos waited. His brother held the hammer of his Angel Arm gun back and was in the process of slowly spinning the ammunition cylinder, staring at the keypad that controlled the blast door. After a moment, he shifted his gaze to Vash and flashed him a cunning smile. Behind them, their seven companions—Meryl, Milly, Sean, Jet, Spike, Faye, and Morgante—slid slowly into place.

"You guys keep your heads low," Vash muttered. He fixed his stare directly on Meryl. She watched him with a look of confidence, shifting her rifle from one shoulder to the other. He knew she wouldn't be so easily cast aside when his life was on the line. "This is something Knives and I have to do together, and the Angel Arms are by far the most dangerous tools on the planet. The blast is deadly. I'd feel better it you took cover in the Millennium Arc, but I don't think you're going to do that."

Meryl confirmed his suspicion with a sly smile. "Vash, shut up."

He smiled back and looked to Knives. "Let's get the show on the road."

Knives nodded slowly and reached out. Quickly, he punched in a series of numbers on the keypad. Vash watched, memorizing the numbers. His brother had changed the passcode, he realized. If Knives was worried that he might figure it out, he didn't say anything. He only turned a sly smirk in Vash's direction and held out his weapon.

Vash drew a slow breath and tapped the barrels together.

Knives hit the activation key.

They waited for what seemed an eternity for the door to slide open.

When Knives first sought the aid of the Gung Ho Guns twenty-five years ago, in the weeks before the incident at the city of July, there were three people of interest for him. The first, of course, was Legato Bluesummers. Legato was a quiet individual with a keen knack for deception, and an irrevocable lust for all things macabre. Lingering on the edge of suicidal madness, he eagerly accepted Knives offer of turmoil, bloodletting, and pain incarnate. Dangerous insanity. Legato proved even more useful homicidal than he did suicidal. He delivered the message to Vash like no one else could.

If Knives had enjoyed the company of anyone in this world after he and Vash had been separated all those years ago, it was Bluesummers. Legato served his purpose, believed in his purpose. That purpose was death, and he had been quite good when dealing it out. First, to his enemy, then to his comrades, and, in the end, as he had so boldly explained before turning from Knives for the final time and strolling out to his final confrontation with Vash the Stampede, to himself. Knives appreciated Legato's effort.

It was Legato's biggest companion, one of the original Gung-Ho Guns, who proved to be his strongest ally in the end. Morgante the Warhead—Richard Stryfe to his family and friends, who knew nothing of his allegiance to the feared criminal organization whose dark disdain spread like wildfire over a flammable countryside—was very much the brute as advertised. The only thing that Morgante held dearer to his heart than his duty to the Gung-Ho Guns was the daughter he had brought into this world. Once, near the end of the Gung-Ho Guns' clash with Vash the Stampede over a year ago, just before Legato had forced Vash to choose between Legato's life, and the life of his daughter and her very best friend, Morgante had turned on Knives, furious.

The girls were to be spared. Knives had promised him. For his aid, the girls had to be spared. Knives had told him not to worry, that Vash would come through. Legato would die, but not before Vash struggled to the bitter end with his own sanity.

Vash had to be punished for his weaknesses. There was no way around it.

Morgante had seemingly broken his ties with Knives then. No way he would allow Knives or Legato to toy, to gamble with his daughter's life in that manner. He went off to join Quinn in his foolish quest to usurp Knives, destroy the plant-spawn that had poisoned the world with their own vile blood, and, in turn, complete the very conquest Knives had once sought.

It was this betrayal that would lead to Knives's eventual downfall. Or at least, that was what Quinn had thought.

From the beginning, it had been Knives' intentions to make Gunsmoke into his own private paradise, a world he would share with his brother. Vash couldn't see beyond his own limitless compassion for the scourge of the lifeless rock that Rem herself had spared oh so long ago. His defeat a year ago meant Knives would honor Vash's dream to see life continue on. Humanity was rewarded a second chance that day in that tiny piece of paradise between the wasteland and sky.

Vash had earned that much in his victory. After all, victory led to an enemy far worse that Knives. Victory led to an enemy who hated Vash. Knives had never hated his brother. Quinn hated Vash. With Knives defeated and out of the way…

It was Quinn who had introduced Knives to Legato, to the Gung-Ho Guns in general. Knives and Quinn had encountered each other several times over the years prior to the events of July. Dr. Jebidiah Quinn was a hateful little bastard who hated the plant-spawn for destroying his dream of Project SEEDS. Knives in turn hated Quinn for the very humanity that he represented.

It was a match made in heaven—or, perhaps more accurately, spawned from hell—a fact Knives exploited many times over the years to turn the flow of events throughout Gunsmoke, as controlled by the Gung-Ho Guns, to his advantage. Quinn tried to do the same. Knives had always found that amusing because working toward opposite goals had actually taken them down the same terrible, bloodstained trail.

Knives breathed a slow sigh and held down the activation key on the keypad of the blast door. Nothing happened. The door remained shut; there wasn't even a sound—a clang of steel or something more, something else as blatantly obvious—to indicate that something wasn't operating as it was intended. He frowned deeply and peered across to his brother.

"What is it?" Vash asked.

Knives grimaced. "Damn it all," he said under his breath.

Meryl couldn't for the life of her understand exactly what had become of the horrible terrors that had only just begun to flood through her heart and soul that day Vash had returned to her. Next to her stood the man she had been led to believe was responsible for it all. Now the mystery seemed only to deepen as she came to realize that it hadn't at all been her father's desire to see the death of Vash the Stampede, and in turn give to her endless pain.

In her mind's eye, Richard Stryfe, or Morgante the Warhead, or whatever the hell his name was, was no more than the scourge of betrayal. He was no longer the father she had known. This man would just as soon turn on his allies, to pull a gun and fire a bullet into the heart of a friend, as take his own loving wife, or their cherished daughter, into his powerful embrace.

She wondered, what had the Gung-Ho Guns done to poison the heart that Richard's wife had grown to love, the man who had turned on his family? What was it that Morgante had received that had caused him to surrender his life? She hoped that, whatever it was, it brought him as much pain as it had caused for his family over the years.

Knives, after all, was a man who rewarded his followers with pain as if it were the greatest gift of all. Meryl prayed with all her heart that pain would stay with her father forever.

She eyed the man standing next to her, that towered over her, whose very flesh had been nearly wiped away in exchange for cybernetic implants. How many of them kept him alive, she wondered. Could he live without them? She wasn't so sure.

Standing at the archway that sealed them from the outside, and the army of Vash clones beyond, Vash shot a look to his brother. She heard Knives swear softly and shift his gaze back to Vash. "What is it?" Vash repeated, more forcibly the second time.

"The old fart changed the passcodes," Knives hissed under his breath. "I'm going to have to reroute the encryption through engineering."

Vash frowned. "Why?"

Knives gave him a look. "No time to explain. Just keep your mouth shut." He lifted something small and black to his lips. "Edward? Are you there?"

Meryl frowned. "Edward?"

Next to her, Faye stiffen, and then her shoulders sagged with relief.

"Where is she?" Jet demanded.

"If I had a guess," Stryker replied, fixing Knives with a meaningful look as he slowly folded his arms over his chest, "I'd have to say engineering."

A pretty reasonable guess, everyone agreed.

"Oooo-oo-oooo! Cooool!" Edward giggled, slender fingers flying over the control panel. Big bold letters flashed on the screen—ENCRYPTION COMMAND—followed by the text box, with a flashing cursor. She touched the earpiece, her fool grin stretching wider on her pale face. Her heart raced as spasms raced through her scrawny figure. "Oooo, Knives! I have the verification program!"

She frowned as the voice returned to her head. A soft voice, instructing her on what to do. Her frown deepened as he continued to speak to her through the comm-link. She twitched in her chin, cooing at the information. She stroked her fingers together before interlocking them to crack her knuckles, just as her fool's grin returned.

"Kay-kay, Knives!" She punched in a series of numbers and tapped the return key. The response came to her instantly: ACCESS DENIED. "Oh!" she moaned. "Passcode denied! What next, Knives?" She touched the earpiece, gazing up to the ceiling as she spun about in her chair, and then stiffened and gave the darkness a smart militaristic salute.

"Roger dodger! Edward will give it a go-go!"

Knives peered slowly over to his bother. "We have a problem."

Vash arched a brow. "Just one?"

"Morgante," Knives grumbled, turning to his employee. The big man stiffened when their eyes met. "Take a trip down to the command center and check on our guest."

The big man bowed his head. "On my way."

Knives waited for a moment. "And Morgante?" The big man paused. "Do be careful. Quinn really is a cunning old fart."

Vash was amazed at how quiet Meryl's father really was. He'd been a deputy in his past life, before turning the way of the Gung-Ho Guns. He was pretty skilled with a gun, too. With a nod, the big man vanished down the hall.

Stryker eyed Knives and turned off down the hall to follow. "I'm going with him," he called over his shoulder.

"We tied Quinn down pretty good," Vash said. "He must've changed the encryption before all this started."

Knives's hand shot out and latched to his brother's arm in a death grip. "Vash, before today, there were only three who knew the encryption code. Quinn believed me dead and never quite believed you were the threat you truly are. There were a great many things Quinn had on his plate before I made my appearance. Do you really think the security of the ship truly rated that high on his list of important things?"

"It would've to me," Vash grumbled.

"True, but Quinn was overconfident. And he had Morgante on his side. So he believed. No, I don't think establishing a new encryption was that important to him."

"What're you saying?" Meryl demanded. The two peered down to see that she had inched her way closer to the door. "That Quinn somehow got loose and changed the encryption just now?"

Knives looked to her. Vash watched her with the same troubled expression. Then they eyed on another. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Vash drew a slow breath. "And what about getting outside?"

"Edward knows what she is doing." Knives lifted his weapon. "It won't be long now."

"Ready the battering ram." Dark Horse stared directly ahead, eyes narrowed. All about him, the clones were going about their business, readying a massive, titanium for the job to come. The primary entrance to the Millennium Arc had been mysteriously deactivated. There was no getting in. At least, not yet. If he wanted to get in, he knew he would have to create his own entrance. With a devious smirk, Dark Horse held up a finger. "Engage."

"What's that sound?" Milly murmured as she leaned forward.

"I'm not sure," Vash replied, leaning his ear against the door. The deep rumbling only grew louder, and he could feel the vibrations raging through his bones. He shot a look at Knives. "Whaddaya think?"

"I think," Knives said, turning his head slightly in Vash's direction, "this is going to be fun."

The first thunderous thwack of the battering ram slamming into the blast door sent a jolt through Vash and sent him sprawled across the floor. Knives's eyes went wide as he watched his brother fight to regain his footing. Another loud bang echoed down the corridor.

"What the hell?" Vash murmured, trying to shake away the beginnings of a very serious headache.

"Battering ram," his brother replied.

Another loud crash was met by with metallic pop as the door bent violently inward in a direction the metal was clearly not meant to bend. Vash's eyes widened. He looked up to Meryl.

"Get out of here!"

Before another word could be said, a metal rod sharpened at the point sliced easily through the door, narrowly missing skewering Knives. The rod began to glow until it white hot. In that moment, the door began to melt quickly away.

In the opening, as it grew wide enough, a head appeared. One of the clones, a narrow shield of black metal over his eyes. As Vash watched with wide-eyed terror, the thing stuck the barrel of a weapon through the ruined blast door.

The thing's head erupted in a shower of blood and bone and brains, and then collapsed into the molten door frame. Vash shifted his gaze up over his shoulder to see Meryl, the butt of rifle her rifle rested firmly against her shoulder, a wisp of smoke floating from the barrel.

She lowered the weapon and held a hand out to Vash. He took it and came quickly to his feet.

As they turned back to the door, they saw Knives slip outside, magnum blazing in his gun hand. In his place, three clones filled the space, guns blazing. Vash's machine gun burst free and filled the air with hot lead. The clones were dropped in a matter of seconds. In their place, five more appeared. Vash's eyes widened as he came to realize what would happen if they tried to make their stand here. He grabbed Meryl by the shoulder and started pushing her down the hall. Jet and Spike looked in surprise at one another, and then took aim. Vash grabbed Spike's shoulder and gave him a shove. "Oh no you don't! These guys aren't like me! They aim to kill, no questions asked!"

Jet spun instantly, taking Vash's request. Spike only lowered the weapon briefly and gave Vash a look. Then he lifted it again and placed a bullet between one of the clone's eyes. With a wicked smirk, he spun and followed after Vash and Meryl.

"Where's Faye!" Spike shouted over the sound of gunfire.

A swarm of hate spilled into the Millennium Arc after them.

Edward gasped as she watched the monitors before her. Knives was on the outside, she saw, firing at random as he tried to position himself for the final onslaught. He was having a rough time of it, but somehow he was still on the loose. In another monitor, she saw Vash and Meryl and her friends, Spike and Jet, running off away from the oncoming clones as they rushed into the dark corridors of the Millennium Arc. In a third, the command center, just as the door hissed open and Stryker and Morgante raced into the room.

Edward frown as she caught sight of the length of rope in the center of the room, frayed on either end where it had been snapped in twine. She froze, and broke into a cold sweat. She swallowed, forcing herself to calm. Quinn had broken his binds. How that was possible didn't matter, only that he had done it. Maybe he'd had help…or maybe, Ed realized as she swallowed hard, he was more than he appeared.

She was breathing in quick, short gasps as she flipped through the security cameras that filled the screen. Her heart sank even deeper to realize, while she saw her friends and the dangers of the genetically enhanced army that had begun to fill the ship, she could not find Quinn.

Morgante's voice rushed into her earpiece: "Hey, kid, any sign of the old man?"

"Ed is looking," she snapped, her finger fidgeting as she continued to search the ship.

Morgante was silent a moment. "Just watch your–"

Whatever he was going to say didn't find her ear. Something cold and hard slammed into the side of her head, tossing her aside as if she were a sack of potatoes, the earpiece sent flying. Ed was unconscious before she hit the floor, not even given the time to see what what it was that hit her.

They were cutting it close, Vash knew. Bullets whizzed past him as he grabbed Meryl's shoulder, guiding her down the twisting corridors, no more than ten paces in front of their pursuers. Meryl didn't risk a glance back, nor did she question his judgment. Vash knew where he was, and she trusted him. Vash did look over his shoulder, occasionally firing off a shot. He had two bullets left. Spike was no longer behind them. They'd lost him five minutes before. He'd also chosen a different path then Jet and Milly, the only way he could think to get their pursuers off their back. He couldn't be certain his ploy had even worked.

Deeper they fled into the Millennium Arc, deeper into his sanctuary. Vash knew this place well. He and Knives had explored the entire gateship. He knew most of its secrets, both hidden corridors and long lost chambers. The hologram of Rem Saverem had been the one shock he hadn't anticipated, he couldn't have known. He learned a great many new things whenever he returned. This time, he feared there would be nothing left to learn. In the aftermath of this battle, there could only be the emptiness he had feared for so long.

Maybe he could shed the title Vash the Stampede, but he wouldn't get his hopes up.

Most likely, the Humanoid Typhoon was about to take the final leap toward his destiny.