Once again, many thanks to my reviewers, old and new. I hope you continue to enjoy! And now, the moment of truth...

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun!

LIVING MEMORIES

-A Trigun Story-

Chapter 10: Nightmares of Inhumanity

A young girl peeked around the edge of the door to her father's study. When the dark-haired man caught sight of her, he grinned, motioning for her to come over to him. She smiled back and ran to him, giggling as his strong arms grabbed her by the waist and sat her safely in his lap.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Frey?"

"What happened to grandpa?"

Frey's father's smile faded as he looked down at his nine-year old daughter's face.

"My father, he isn't with us anymore, Frey."

"Did he, did he . . . die?"

"Yes, Frey, he passed away before you were born."

"How?"

The man smiled patiently. "He was killed, Frey, by a very evil man."

"Why?"

"I don't know, dear. The man just said he wanted to kill the last descendant of Rem Saverem."

"So you were there?"

"Yes, honey. I was there, but I was hiding. When I saw the man kill your grandfather, I ran. The next thing I knew, July was being destroyed."

"How?"

"I'm sorry, Frey. I don't know."

"Who's Rem Saverem?"

"A woman that was related to Grandpa. She's who you got your middle name from."

Frey paused, considering this newly learned information. Then, "what did he look like?"

"Who, dear?"

"The man that killed grandpa."

His face fell again. "He was horrible, Frey. He had light blonde hair, and icy blue eyes that seemed to penetrate all the way to my soul."

"What was his name?"

The man smiled briefly again at his daughter's inquisitiveness. "I don't know, honey. But it doesn't matter. He's gone now."

"Daddy, Daddy! You're home!"

Frey's father lifted her off the ground as she ran to him, swinging her in a circle in the air. "Hello Frey, and how have you been?"

"Did you bring me a present?"

"Frey!" a woman nearby gently scolded.

The man smiled. "It's okay, honey." He turned to his daughter. "And yes, I do have a present for you."

"What is it! What is it!"

The man reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small dark box. Frey took it carefully, but didn't hesitate in ripping the lid off.

"Wow . . ."

The man smiled at his daughter's awe. Inside the box were two small earrings, bright red flowers. Frey looked up.

"These are really for me?"

"Yes, Frey. They're yours."

"Frey."

Frey rolled over in bed at the sound of her name. Her father was leaning over her bed, smiling.

"Get up Frey, I want to show you something."

"What is it, Dad?"

Her father's grin widened, and he looked just like a little boy excited to share some new discovery.

"It's raining."

Frey sat up, confused. "What do you mean?"

The man brushed Frey's hair out of her face, then grabbed her hand and pulled her out of bed. "Come on, I'll show you."

Frey's father led her down the hall, Frey running at his side to keep up. The two reached Frey's parents room, where Frey's mother was already gazing out the window, smiling. Frey walked up beside her and looked out the window. Her eyes grew big with delight, and her parents both chuckled at the look on her face.

"Wow . . ."

"This is the first time you've seen rain, isn't it, Frey?" her father's strong voice asked. She nodded excitedly, her face pressed up against the window, as close to the falling water as it could get. They sat like that for several minutes, watching the rain and listening to the soft patter it made on the roof above them. Rain was rare on Gunsmoke, and this was a rare and treasured experience for all of them.

Frey giggled as a flash of lightning appeared, and her parents exchanging surprised looks at her lack of fear. She laughed again as a huge clap of thunder shook the house.

"Oh, this is so cool . . ."

Smiling, Frey's father put an arm around her shoulder, his other arm resting on his wife's waist. The scene was perfect.

Suddenly a crash was heard from downstairs. The family jumped out of their thoughts and glanced apprehensively at each other. The sound was repeated, and Frey's parents soon realized it was someone beating against the door. After a few more attempts, the door crashed to the floor. Frey's mother's face paled, and she groped for her husband's arm.

"Frey," her mother said, "go to your room, and don't come out, no matter what, okay?"

Frey sensed the urgency and shakiness in her mother's voice, despite the fact that she was trying to appear strong for her daughter's sake. Frey looked at her father, who nodded.

"Listen to your mother, Frey. And please hurry."

"But Daddy . . ."

"Go, Frey."

Glancing at them one last time, Frey slipped out of the room and tore down the hall, not looking back. When she reached her room, she closed the door tightly behind her and curled up in a ball under her bed, silently praying.

The thunder, the lightning, even the sound of the breaking door hadn't frightened her. But as she saw the expressions on her parents' faces, she had known something was seriously wrong. They never looked frightened. At least, they weren't supposed to.

The sounds of a scuffle downstairs reached her young ears. She curled up into a tighter ball as her hushed words grew faster and more urgent. She felt tears well up in her eyes as her father's yelled protests were heard from downstairs. Then her father's shouts grew silent, and her mother's terrified scream echoed through the empty hallways. Frey fell silent, beginning to sob out of pure fear. Her mother continued screaming, begging for mercy for a few more moments, and then she, too, fell silent.

Frey held a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her tears as she heard footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming.

Her eyes flew open and her heartbeat began to quicken rapidly as her door was pushed open. Paralyzing fear seemed to fill her whole body. She could see two feet from where she lay under the bed, coming steadily nearer to the position where she hid. Then the most mortifying noise that she had or ever would hear filled her ears.

"I know you're in here, dear. Don't try to hide. I promise I won't hurt you." Frey's breathing stopped as the two feet halted just inches from her face. It grew quiet, too quiet.

Before she knew what was happening, the man's hand had been thrust under the bed and grabbed her by the arm. She let out a petrified scream, clawing desperately at the arm. He laughed as he drug her out from under the bed. "Oh, are you trying to hurt me?"

Her attempts to escape suddenly stopped, however, as his face came into view. He had platinum blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. He grinned eerily.

"Well well, you even look like her."

The comment, which wasn't understood by Frey, was followed by another set of footsteps at the door. The man holding Frey by the arm glanced at the figure in the doorway. All that Frey could make out was his white coat.

"I see you have attained the target, master."

"Yes. Prepare to leave."

The figure bowed, then turned and disappeared again. Frey silently allowed herself to be dragged out of the room, no longer able to protest. The only glimpse she got of her parents as they left were two figures lying on the ground, each with a dark red outline of blood.

Even after waking up, Frey kept her eyes closed. Holding her breath and hanging on to the one shred of hope she had, she opened her eyes slowly, hoping that perhaps it had all been a bad dream. But every morning it was the same. She hoped with everything she had that nothing that had happened was real, always to receive the same disappointment when the dingy and dark walls of her small cell greeted her eyes. She had been here for a month now, spending all of her time alone in the dark room. Three times a day, someone would stop by the door and leave her a meager meal, which she would quickly devour before falling back into hopelessness. She had almost forgotten what it was like to see the sun, or any light at all. Her only source of it was a small crack in the wall through which a tiny ray fell.

This morning, she ate the small breakfast left for her, as always, and then went to brood in her corner, mourning but refusing to cry over either her lost parents or current situation. Today, however, her door opened, far to early to be her midday meal. She looked up in surprise. Standing before her was a man with haunting yellow eyes and blue hair, the man that had appeared out of the shadows on the night of her kidnapping.

"Come," he said, his voice a flat monotone, "our master has a gift for you."

Frey scurried to her feet, desperate for any break in the monotony, even if it meant following this questionable character. He led her down some dark hallways, eventually reaching the door he wanted. Light that was slightly tinted green spilled into the hallway from the base of the door, where there was a small gap between it and the floor. The door opened without being touched, and Frey was led into a large room.

As she entered, the first thing she noticed was the man that had kidnapped her, standing on the other side of the room. So he was "the master." He glanced at the two of them and smiled, nodding at his accomplice, who understood the signal and backed away from Frey. The blonde man motioned for Frey to come forward, which she did, though only out of fear of what he might do to her if she refused. She stopped a few feet from him as he turned, motioning toward a container behind him. She stepped forward in order to look down into it, then fell back in horror. The box-like unit with a glass top held what appeared to be a human arm.

"That's right," the man said, his voice sending chills up and down Frey's spine, "I have finally completed my own arm, one that contains all of the powers and uses of that of a plant."

Frey had no idea what this had to do with her or how an arm could hold the power of a plant, but she still stared at the man in horror. What kind of lunatic spent his time creating bionic arms?

She soon forgot to care, however, as she felt her limbs growing heavy. It was as if a power inside her body was pulling her down, or her body was filling with lead. She looked up at the man, her eyes wide and terrified. He just grinned evilly.

"Ah yes, I'd like to introduce you to the powers of Legato."

Legato . . .

Frey's eyes followed the motion of the man's arm, to where the yellow-eyed man stood by the door, looking at the ground. So he was doing this.

Frey looked back at the blonde man, grimacing as she was pinned against the floor. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "Knives."

As Frey lay on the ground, considering Knives' strange name, Knives turned to a figure that had recently appeared.

"Rai-dei." The man stepped forward, a samurai-like man with dark hair and eyes. Apparently he already knew what was expected of him, for he walked forward to stand at Frey's feet, facing her. Then he drew his sword and raised if above his head, positioning it over her right arm.

Frey froze, suddenly realizing his intentions. She glanced at the case that held the arm, then at Knives, who continued to grin, then at Rai-dei and his sword. She closed her eyes tightly, dreading what was about to come, and bracing herself. Hot tears began to squeeze out of the corners of her eyes, but they were caused more by hatred than by fear. It was the last time she would cry in six long years.

Frey took in a sharp breath as her weak body hit the floor. She lay there for a few moments, breathing heavily, before crawling to her hands and knees. A male voice reached her ears.

"I trust the operation was fairly painless."

She looked up. It was Knives. He stood in the same position he had been in when she had been dragged, bleeding, out of the room, along with her soon to be connected arm. They hadn't even bothered to put her out as the arm was grafted onto her body. The pain had been excruciating, nearly unbearable.

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a soft moan escaped her mouth. Knives began to laugh.

"Let me explain," he said, "that arm is the arm of a plant, which is what I and my brother are. You will find that it has given you exceptional powers, just as my brother's did for Legato."

Still not understanding how a man could be a plant, Frey just continued glaring, wishing she could hurt him somehow. He began to laugh again, a haunting laugh that made her want to scream in anger. She remembered the horrible pain she had experienced when Rai-dei's blade had cut cleanly through her flesh, and the even more intense pain she had experienced when receiving her new arm.

What does he want with me?

Her mind flashed back a month, to the night her parents had died. He had killed them, mercilessly, disregarding their pleas to stop. He had kidnapped her, then cut her own arm off, giving her a new one and claiming it gave her supernatural powers. He was completely mad. He had to be. And Frey wanted nothing more than to see him suffer . . .

Suddenly she remembered something her father had told her three years ago. It had been about her grandfather, the one who had died. Frey's anger intensified as she remembered her father's description of her grandfather's murderer, a horrible man, with "light blonde hair and icy blue eyes that seemed to penetrate all the way to my soul."

"You!" she got out, clenching her eyes shut as memories of her parents flooded through her. Uncontrollable anger burned inside of her. Her parents screams reverberated in her mind, backed by Knives' unceasing laughter. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to kill him, she wanted him to suffer just like her parents had. She wanted to scream, unleashing all of her anger, hate, pain, and fear. She wanted to . . .

Suddenly there was a cry. She looked up, still overcome with anger. Rai-dei, who had been standing silently by the door, was hovering in mid-air, a surprised look on his face. Frey immediately looked around for Legato, but he was nowhere to be seen. She would have expected him to be hidden somewhere, but it was as if her senses were keener now, and she could just tell that he wasn't there. Her anger dissipated as she was filled with confusion and shock. As her anger disappeared and her shoulders slumped, Rai-dei dropped back to the floor, landing nimbly on his feet. He looked up at her, his face a mix of alarm and awe.

Knives' laughter slowed, then stopped, and an amused expression crossed his face. He glanced at the girl laying on the floor in front of him, now taking quick, raspy gulps of air. His eyes took on a barely short of Satanic glint.

"Yes, that's it."