Okay, it's not VDT or Trunks, Dark Prince of Saiyans; but it's something. Anyway, I don't own Wolfwood or any other part of Trigun, in fact I don't own any type of license (well, other than my driver's license, but that's beside the point). I'm quite interested to see where my imagination takes this story (provided I don't suffer from the ever present problem, writer's block, again). Hope you enjoy it!
Prologue: Sinister Origins
If only I hadn't hesitated, if only I had the strength to save them. Then perhaps none of this would have happened. I never would have met Chapel, I never would have become Knives' precious spy, and I certainly wouldn't be the pitiful excuse of a priest I am. I've always said the first time I held a gun was when I shot that bastard "father"-figure in my life. It's a charade, there was another time before then, I was an orphan due to my own hand.
I should have turned around and killed the bandits the moment they placed that gun in my hands, but I was young and scared. I didn't realize how permanent death was; I thought that if I did what the man told me, my parents would be ok. Then I fired, and all became clear, first my mother, then my father soon after. Both fell in bloody heaps on the ground, and all the man could say was "You are now free of any parental ties; you are free to be who you want to be." He threw me out of my house, and left me in the wasteland with no food or water. He said I would one day thank him for it, and in a way I should, it toughened me up enough to find him, my first true victim. I took pleasure in the feel of his blood splattering against my face. And I would shoot him a thousand times more if I could turn back the clock, but I would do so with my parents still there and watching.
But that is what happened, and no amount of wishing will bring them back. I can only help those like me, orphaned and lost, to see again. To know that life without your parents is not the end, that if you're strong you can survive anything. I know now what I must do, and I fear that it will be the end of me. I am Nicholas D Wolfwood, the lone wolf, and all this I do in remembrance of my mother and father. Sorry needle-noggin, but I've had enough side-kick duties to last me a life time, this is my own story. I will face Knives and all the opposition I meet on the road to him, I will be free of any type of leadership again. And this time, I want it that way.
Chapter 1: The Wolf's Entrance
Another quiet town, or rather as quiet as it gets on this crap-hole of a planet. Adults walk back and forth from their jobs; children play their little trivial games in the streets. The silence is disturbed by the roar of an engine, the source a motorcycle off in the distance. The driver dressed in a dark blue suit and black sunglasses, sunglasses that hid the eyes that had seen so much cruelty from the rest of the world. The bike drifted into the town, escorted by the stares of both the young and the old, most wondering why someone would ever visit their town. Nobody came or went anywhere anymore, no bounties to attract the bounty hunters, nothing of value to bring outlaws in. So why did this man decide to bring such an abrupt halt to the peace?
The man stopped in front of the saloon, when the dust finally cleared the people finally caught a clear glimpse of the large cross-shaped item that he had with him. This only served to gain more attention, why would someone need such a big thing, and why would they wrap it in cloth and belts? As the man stood he popped a cigarette in his mouth and lifted the cross-like object over his shoulder. He did nothing but smile as he lit his cig and walked into the building before him.
Upon entering he found himself faced with glares coming from every direction. He shrugged them off and took a drag from the cig; only a few people looked like they would actually try something. He walked up to the bar, each step reverberating in the silence of the place. Only after setting the cross down and taking a seat did the place take on the air one would suspect from a saloon.
"So what brings you out to our patch of the wasteland stranger?" Inquired the bartender in the same fashion as the dozens before him, cleaning a mug as he stared at the newcomer.
"Same thing that brings me to every town I'm afraid, to help those that are down on their luck. But first things first, give me a drink. It's not easy driving through that desert, after all." He glanced down at his pack of cigs to check how long he had before needing to buy more. "Better add some smokes to that order too."
"Still don't see why you came all the way out here friend. Not many people know that this place even exists. Let alone want to visit it." He set a mug of beer on the counter, a pack of cigs followed shortly after. "You know those things kill don't you?"
"Yeah, I know. Sad to think about it, but I'm more concerned about what that messed up world has in store for me than the life that each one of these things sucks out of me. As for as why I'm here, it's my job as a priest I guess. Name's Nicholas D Wolfwood."
"Well, nice to meet ya mister Wolfwood, but I'm afraid we don't have much use for a priest. We're a pretty quiet bunch out here."
"I know that, maybe it's my side profession that brings me here. I don't know. But what I do know is that I need some info." He took off his shades and pocketed them along with the smokes. He stared at the man with eyes that had seen it all: rape, murder, suicide, this man was no stranger to what the world could do to people. "Info regarding a man, he goes by the name 'Knives'." Sounds of people getting up from their chairs and getting ready for a rumble filled the air. A small sigh, then a grin graced his lips. "As I thought."
Well, that's it for the prolouge/first chapter, hope you enjoyed it. Reviews (good and bad) help fuel the machine that keeps the beasts known as "Writer's Block" and "Lazyness" at bay (oh, and cookies, ramen, pizza, sushi, rice cakes, pocky, ramune, and/or pepsi; but I can't honestly expect those). Please help me keep these problems at bay, I don't like to keep people waiting.