Ah, looks like I'm getting settled in now. The last chapter was a bit rushed and written
while I was going on twenty four hours with no sleep. This time, I ought to be more
aware. I also noticed that I've passed the twenty thousand words mark, and I've still got
major plans for the story. Sky's the limit!
Disclaimer: Sky is not actually the limit.
Rise of the Silver Stars
Chapter 10: A Pair of Surprises
It was dark. Really dark. It was so dark, he didn't see the wall right in front of him until it made itself known by a good stub to his toe. As he grimaced and bent over to clutch the injured member, his rear bumped into another wall that someone had placed behind him, which forced his head into the wall in front of him. Now with three owies and only two hands to provide adequate owie-clutching, he lost track of his balance and tilted over to hit a third wall to his side. Great, he must be in a closet. Reaching out to feel for the door, he just found another wall. That wasn't right. He tried to stand, only to bash his head again against the roof which was now only about three feet off the ground. A few quick feels later revealed that he was quite effectively boxed in, and that it seemed to shrink whenever he wasn't in contact with a wall. He struggled a bit, until the space was so enclosed that his head was crammed into his own armpit, treating him to the wonderful smell of... cement? Uh oh. He held still, listening for any clues as to who put him here, and why. There was one noise, very faint. It was softer than most whispers, so he strained to hear it, focusing on filtering out the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat. There, that was better, now, if it just made a noise again... "Vash..."
"Meryl!"
The box walls turned soft and squishy. There was a sensation of falling, and then... -THUD-
Something really hard had hit him. He thrashed around some more, finally escaping the grasp of the viciously constricting... bedsheets? He panted on the floor by his bed in the inn, disengaging himself from the remainder of his tangled bedding when he noticed two glowing orbs across the room in the shadows. This was precisely the wrong thing to see after a nightmare, as his hair-raising shriek indicated. It continued until a hand flicked on a bedside lamp, revealing that the two glowing ghost-orbs were actually just Knives' eyes. He was leaning back in the bed motionless, appearing to be asleep for all intents and purposes aside from the open eyes and the arm that was grasping the lamp. "Pleasant dreams, brother?"
He was about to make a reply when the door burst open and Milly came in stungun first. A few other patrons of the inn were behind her, guns drawn. Milly let the stungun drop after a moment, but the others kept their arms ready, trying to peer around her and into the room. "We heard a woman scream! Where is she?!"
Knives answered first, while keeping his gaze on Vash. "Why don't you ask 'her' yourselves."
All eyes swiveled in his direction. He squeaked out "Scary dream!" and the guns faltered, then dropped completely as the men took on a variety of looks from incredulous to disgusted. Most stalked off while muttering under their breath, but one hung behind long enough to dispatch some parting advice. "If you're going to Inepril, do the real bounty hunters a favor and stay here. We don't need any wussies, the Humanoid Typhoon ain't for amateurs!"
Milly giggled at that, drawing an odd look from the advice-giver. He had a few words for her as well. "That goes for you too missy. The reward is good dead or alive, and only an idiot would choose to try for the latter. Either get a real gun or stay back with the wuss."
"But we have to go! Everyone will be waiting for us."
"Bah, you city kids think too highly of yourselves. Trust me, you don't want to go." The advice-giver turned and disappeared down the hall, the sound of a closing door cutting off the pit-pat of his feet. It was down to just the three of them, and Knives again beat them to the first word.
"The spider was right about one thing. It would probably be best if we did not go to Inepril. It's become progressively more hazardous the closer we get to that location."
"Well, yeah... But I promised. We're not ones to go back on promises, are we Knives?"
Knives snorted, taking on an even more superior air. "It is a burden at times to be the better race. For now, let us salvage what remains of the night. Begone human."
"Goodnight Mr. Knives. Will you be okay Mr. Vash?"
"Yeah, it was just a bad dream, though it might be a bit hard to get back to sleep."
"Whenever I had a bad dream, my mother and father would let me sleep with them to keep it from coming back. Would you like to sleep with me?"
That was unexpected. He let out a nervous laugh before responding. "Er, I, uh, no thanks!" He then jumped up from the floor and ushered her out. Before he could close the door, she leaned on it keep it open an inch. "Goodnight then, Mr. Vash. Pleasant dreams!" She then stood back and headed for her room as he shut the door. As he locked the door and turned around to lean on it, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Knives looked bemused at all this.
"Quite the display of naïveté, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps you'd care to make a bet on how long it will be before one of the spiders takes advantage of that?"
"That's not funny."
"It's not meant to be. It simply... is. That's how they are, you know."
"Not now Knives."
He gathered up the sheets and tossed them haphazardly on the bed, then plunked himself down on them. Knives hit the lights, and they laid for a moment in the darkness.
"Two of the bounty hunters were thinking of it, you know."
Rather than respond with words, he just grabbed the pillow and sent it spinning towards the offending voice. It impacted with a nice wuffing noise, then silence reigned for another few moments.
"I'm going to keep it."
"Whatever."
He drifted off to sleep again, to await the coming dawn. There were no more dreams that night.
¤ ¤ ¤
Morning. His favorite time of day, since it meant a nice meal. Well, make that one of his favorite times of the day. Even Knives was joining them, since the ration bars had been left in the truck, which in turn had been left at a mechanic's for repairs. He wasn't entirely happy, but he was tolerating it, which was good enough for the moment. There was one item on the breakfast menu that had jumped out as being the perfect one for Knives, which he was now poking at with a spoon as if it would explode. He paused in his own snarfing to encourage Knives along.
"C'mon Knives, eat your Wheaties before they get soggy! It's the breakfast of champ-"
Knives just shot him a 'stuff it' glare, so he shrugged and stuffed it with doughnuts, then poured coffee down after them. Bleh. It was bitter coffee, and he hated bitter coffee. He reached for the sugar packets and poured a good half dozen in, but it still wasn't that good. "I wish Meryl was here, she always made great coffee..."
"Don't worry Mr. Vash, we'll be in Inepril soon, and Meryl won't be far behind."
"But I want my good coffee now..."
Milly stuck her fork back in her eggs, then reached over to pat him on the back. "My little big brother says that good things come with just a bit of patience and hard work."
He just let looks a wry grin and nodded, then started to lick the pancake plate clean before taking another glance at Knives, who still hadn't touched the bowl before him. "Well, if you don't want it, maybe I could-" That was all it took. Knives clutched the bowl possessively, brought it up, and gobbled it down in seconds. Milly just smiled and held up a napkin. Knives glared, but Milly was quite glareproof, so he simply snatched the napkin and wiped his chin. She then held up another one for him, at which point he noticed that out of the three of them, she was the only one with actual table manners. Ah, sweet opportunity!
"You know Knives, Milly's got much better manners than you."
Knives looked taken aback for a moment, but then settled back down into his usual air of omnipotence. "Manners are unimportant when danger could appear at any time."
"Yeah, and Thomases fly."
"So, want to come along to pick up supplies, or would you rather mope about the room until they kick you out at noon?"
Knives just reached down to the duffel bag and dug out some money. "Then you had best get moving before I rent the room for another night."
"But that's my money!"
"Consider it added motivation to be efficient with your errands."
He groaned and got up. Looks like there wasn't any time for seconds if he wanted to beat the suns. However, there might be a way to eat his doughnuts and get the truck too... "Milly, could you get a to-go box before you're done?"
"Certainly, Mr. Vash. Half plain, half glazed, right?"
"Perfect! Thanks, gotta run!" He wiggled his fingers, then was out the door in a flash, leaving behind little puffs of dust and surprised patrons in his wake.
¤ ¤ ¤
He had beaten the clock, though he had fudged a bit on the definition of 'finished'. He had one more thing to do, but since it wasn't exactly his thing to do, he was technically finished. Of course, Knives wasn't very happy when he found out, but since Knives seemed to never be happy it was more or less business as usual. Thus, Knives was waiting in the truck while he and Milly entered Frank Marlon's shop.
Upon entering, he was assaulted by a variety of smells, a few of which were his old friends of grease and gunpowder, but others were rather new. Was that glue? It didn't quite smell right for that. There was also a classic smell of hard work, which he assumed was the reason why Frank was sleeping on his desk instead of in bed, wherever that was. Poor fellow must have had his work cut out for him with the Cross Punisher. At least it appeared to be finished, since it was sitting by the desk and appeared to be in one piece. The ammo still had to be reloaded, as it was sitting next to the weapon in a neat pile. Except that wasn't the only thing still sitting out... Oh man, if Frank wasn't done he'd catch hell from Knives over the delay. He shook the sleeping man as Milly picked up the Cross Punisher.
"Zzz.. ¤snerk¤ ...come back tomorrow, I'm closed..."
This wasn't working. Instead, he leaned down and bellowed "Earthquake!" into the gunsmith's ear while rocking the table. That got him up lickity split. Or rather, down on the floor, then up. "Dammit Vash, that was a terrible plan then, and it's still a terrible plan now!"
"For bank robbers, I guess. It's a great wakeup call."
"Don't remind me. The suns came up before I finished... Man, barely two hours of sleep. What's the rush?"
"Eh, well, we kinda have to get moving. Please say you got it all done?"
"The Cross Punisher? Yeah, I got it done. So, Ms. Thompson, would you like to try it out? There's a few targets set up on the roof."
"Do we have time Mr. Vash?"
"Well, I guess. He's not going to get any less mad if we take a few minutes more."
"Great! The stairs are right over there, let me know how it goes. If you're in a hurry, looks like I'm in one too!"
He had vanished into another room while Milly tromped up the stairs. He could follow Marlon, follow Milly, or go enjoy Knives' company out in the truck. Well, scratch that last one. He decided to follow Milly after a bit, since things might get problematic if she activated the rocket launcher... It appeared to be the right choice, since he heard a familiar clanking as he put his boot on the first step up. The following 'FOOMP-shoop-CLACK' wasn't a normal noise. If the rocket launcher had jammed... oh dear. He raced up the rest of the stairs and forced his eyes to adjust instantly. If it was a jam, he had only moments before the round exploded inside the gun.
However, there were a few things off with the scene that presented itself. First, the open end was for the machine gun, and it was only half open at that. Second, Milly didn't look the least bit let down that something wasn't working. Sure, the mouth ajar was a sure sign of surprise, but stars in one's eyes was not a classic sign of disappointment. A few seconds later, that ajar mouth was firmly fixed in an exuberant expression of glee. Such sights were reproduced audibly when Milly burst out in wild laughter and started to skip around the roof, swinging the Cross Punisher around like a baton- A really large, heavy one that was headed his way. He jumped back to avoid getting his head bashed in, then felt an abrupt lack of footing. Oh, right, he had been at the top of a stairwell. A rather steep one, that had two nice twists on the way down. Three good thuds later, he was at a nice stop at the bottom enjoying the feeling of non-movement. While staring up at his legs that were three steps above him, he asked a question to the dust motes he had stirred up. "Did I miss something?"
"That would be my question. I heard laughing and then I come out to see you there. Though to judge from that position, I'd say it was a pretty funny fall."
Before he could respond to that, a heavy tromping made him look up. Milly was coming down, taking the stairs three at a time, and he was in the way. A short scream escaped before he sprang out of the way, running off upside down in a handstand. He knew what a boot to the face could do coming from a little girl without two immensely heavy guns on her person, and didn't want to discover what happened if it was Milly introducing his face to footwear. Milly didn't notice his brush with injury, too wrapped up in wrapping Frank in a massive hug.
"Thank you Mr. Marlon! You don't know what this means to me!"
"So you...like it?"
"Yes! It's wonderful!"
"Great... I was...starting to...wonder..."
Milly dropped Frank and bounced back up the stairs. The gunsmith collapsed on the ground, panting for the air that had just been squeezed out of him. In the meantime, he did a quick flip and returned the world to its proper 'This Side Up' orientation. He still had no idea just what had happened.
"If that's her liking something, I don't want to see what happens if she doesn't like something."
"She takes away their pudding."
"Wha?"
"Never mind. What did you do?"
"What I always do. Let's go up and take a look."
Going up the stairs again, this time letting the gunsmith go first and cautiously poking his head out to make sure there were no instruments of unintentional injury swinging about. Milly was over by one of the targets, unwrapping something coiled around it.
"So, I see you found the net launcher. I wasn't sure which one you'd use first."
"You mean there's more?"
"Sure is ma'am. I'll explain it all on the way, and about how to treat it, as there are a few special procedures for the cleaning and reloading. Bring that net along, and I'll show you how to refold it. I need to finish packing."
Net launcher? Special procedures? Packing? "What's going on?!" he exclaimed as he ran after the gunsmith.
"Heh, maybe you should lay off the drinks, they're making you slow. I did a bit more than just a tune up as you've guessed. That gun's a whole different beast now, one that's just as strong, but a little less sharp in tooth and claw. Oh, and I'm hitching a ride with you folks."
He echoed that last phrase like a parrot. "Hitching a ride?"
"Yeah, you're headed for Inepril City, right? It's turning into the biggest gun show the planet's ever seen. Every maker, every age, everything from standard issue to heavily modified to complete custom jobs. I was planning to head over there anyway to check out the sights, and you folks would just make the traveling that less dull!"
Then Frank was through the door, tossing more things in a fat suitcase for an extended trip. He was left standing there frazzled as activity took place around him. First Milly came down and grabbed the case of extra ammo Frank pointed to, then Frank lugged the suitcase to the door. When had he invited the gunsmith to come along, anyway?
"Hey Vash, move it! You said you were in a hurry, right? Unless you'd prefer to stay locked up in here when I close the store."
He snapped out of his state and spun around. "Coming!" There was only one thought on his mind right then- "Knives is really not going to like this..."
¤rubs hands together¤ Heh, looks like someone just got an upgrade. I've had way too much fun writing this chapter, even if it did take a bit. I think one more chapter with Vash, then we'll see about getting Meryl out of the slammer. Only one thing's for certain- I completely lost my marbles some time ago. Watch your step.
Reviewer Responses
(Note: Story and review FF.net servers decided to go whrrr-CHUNK just as I tried to access my reviews. Everyone, join me in beating the technology with blunt objects until its moral improves.)
Sorian: Yeah, show that wall who's the boss!
Yma: Well, as you can see above, Frank will be sticking around for a while. It is all part of The Plan™.
coffeetin: To answer the question, yes. It's not too strong though, since Vash never used his telepathy much. Knives, on the other hand... As for the tone, expect it to vary quite a bit depending on who's involved. The people who view the world will be setting it far more than the situation they're in, though neither will have dominance over the other. It's just how I set the balance.
kitsune: Ooh, mucho comment! I'm glad you like the style I've got, though there will be dark parts. However, I am a follower of the Great Warm Fuzzy, so it won't get too bad. And don't worry about any Mary Sues dropping in, I have Wolfwood and Legato keeping them away. As for my e-mail, I don't have it listed because, well, it's something I hardly ever check. Combine that with hotmail, and you've got an addy subject to frequent dropouts. (This isn't new. Folks have said I'm a royal pain to get in touch with for years, no matter the medium. Yay me!)
SapphireWhiteTiggress: Acting like Monty Burns must mean I've garnered interest. Good or bad, I'm not sure. It is Monty Burns.
Disclaimer: Sky is not actually the limit.
Chapter 10: A Pair of Surprises
It was dark. Really dark. It was so dark, he didn't see the wall right in front of him until it made itself known by a good stub to his toe. As he grimaced and bent over to clutch the injured member, his rear bumped into another wall that someone had placed behind him, which forced his head into the wall in front of him. Now with three owies and only two hands to provide adequate owie-clutching, he lost track of his balance and tilted over to hit a third wall to his side. Great, he must be in a closet. Reaching out to feel for the door, he just found another wall. That wasn't right. He tried to stand, only to bash his head again against the roof which was now only about three feet off the ground. A few quick feels later revealed that he was quite effectively boxed in, and that it seemed to shrink whenever he wasn't in contact with a wall. He struggled a bit, until the space was so enclosed that his head was crammed into his own armpit, treating him to the wonderful smell of... cement? Uh oh. He held still, listening for any clues as to who put him here, and why. There was one noise, very faint. It was softer than most whispers, so he strained to hear it, focusing on filtering out the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat. There, that was better, now, if it just made a noise again... "Vash..."
"Meryl!"
The box walls turned soft and squishy. There was a sensation of falling, and then... -THUD-
Something really hard had hit him. He thrashed around some more, finally escaping the grasp of the viciously constricting... bedsheets? He panted on the floor by his bed in the inn, disengaging himself from the remainder of his tangled bedding when he noticed two glowing orbs across the room in the shadows. This was precisely the wrong thing to see after a nightmare, as his hair-raising shriek indicated. It continued until a hand flicked on a bedside lamp, revealing that the two glowing ghost-orbs were actually just Knives' eyes. He was leaning back in the bed motionless, appearing to be asleep for all intents and purposes aside from the open eyes and the arm that was grasping the lamp. "Pleasant dreams, brother?"
He was about to make a reply when the door burst open and Milly came in stungun first. A few other patrons of the inn were behind her, guns drawn. Milly let the stungun drop after a moment, but the others kept their arms ready, trying to peer around her and into the room. "We heard a woman scream! Where is she?!"
Knives answered first, while keeping his gaze on Vash. "Why don't you ask 'her' yourselves."
All eyes swiveled in his direction. He squeaked out "Scary dream!" and the guns faltered, then dropped completely as the men took on a variety of looks from incredulous to disgusted. Most stalked off while muttering under their breath, but one hung behind long enough to dispatch some parting advice. "If you're going to Inepril, do the real bounty hunters a favor and stay here. We don't need any wussies, the Humanoid Typhoon ain't for amateurs!"
Milly giggled at that, drawing an odd look from the advice-giver. He had a few words for her as well. "That goes for you too missy. The reward is good dead or alive, and only an idiot would choose to try for the latter. Either get a real gun or stay back with the wuss."
"But we have to go! Everyone will be waiting for us."
"Bah, you city kids think too highly of yourselves. Trust me, you don't want to go." The advice-giver turned and disappeared down the hall, the sound of a closing door cutting off the pit-pat of his feet. It was down to just the three of them, and Knives again beat them to the first word.
"The spider was right about one thing. It would probably be best if we did not go to Inepril. It's become progressively more hazardous the closer we get to that location."
"Well, yeah... But I promised. We're not ones to go back on promises, are we Knives?"
Knives snorted, taking on an even more superior air. "It is a burden at times to be the better race. For now, let us salvage what remains of the night. Begone human."
"Goodnight Mr. Knives. Will you be okay Mr. Vash?"
"Yeah, it was just a bad dream, though it might be a bit hard to get back to sleep."
"Whenever I had a bad dream, my mother and father would let me sleep with them to keep it from coming back. Would you like to sleep with me?"
That was unexpected. He let out a nervous laugh before responding. "Er, I, uh, no thanks!" He then jumped up from the floor and ushered her out. Before he could close the door, she leaned on it keep it open an inch. "Goodnight then, Mr. Vash. Pleasant dreams!" She then stood back and headed for her room as he shut the door. As he locked the door and turned around to lean on it, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Knives looked bemused at all this.
"Quite the display of naïveté, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps you'd care to make a bet on how long it will be before one of the spiders takes advantage of that?"
"That's not funny."
"It's not meant to be. It simply... is. That's how they are, you know."
"Not now Knives."
He gathered up the sheets and tossed them haphazardly on the bed, then plunked himself down on them. Knives hit the lights, and they laid for a moment in the darkness.
"Two of the bounty hunters were thinking of it, you know."
Rather than respond with words, he just grabbed the pillow and sent it spinning towards the offending voice. It impacted with a nice wuffing noise, then silence reigned for another few moments.
"I'm going to keep it."
"Whatever."
He drifted off to sleep again, to await the coming dawn. There were no more dreams that night.
Morning. His favorite time of day, since it meant a nice meal. Well, make that one of his favorite times of the day. Even Knives was joining them, since the ration bars had been left in the truck, which in turn had been left at a mechanic's for repairs. He wasn't entirely happy, but he was tolerating it, which was good enough for the moment. There was one item on the breakfast menu that had jumped out as being the perfect one for Knives, which he was now poking at with a spoon as if it would explode. He paused in his own snarfing to encourage Knives along.
"C'mon Knives, eat your Wheaties before they get soggy! It's the breakfast of champ-"
Knives just shot him a 'stuff it' glare, so he shrugged and stuffed it with doughnuts, then poured coffee down after them. Bleh. It was bitter coffee, and he hated bitter coffee. He reached for the sugar packets and poured a good half dozen in, but it still wasn't that good. "I wish Meryl was here, she always made great coffee..."
"Don't worry Mr. Vash, we'll be in Inepril soon, and Meryl won't be far behind."
"But I want my good coffee now..."
Milly stuck her fork back in her eggs, then reached over to pat him on the back. "My little big brother says that good things come with just a bit of patience and hard work."
He just let looks a wry grin and nodded, then started to lick the pancake plate clean before taking another glance at Knives, who still hadn't touched the bowl before him. "Well, if you don't want it, maybe I could-" That was all it took. Knives clutched the bowl possessively, brought it up, and gobbled it down in seconds. Milly just smiled and held up a napkin. Knives glared, but Milly was quite glareproof, so he simply snatched the napkin and wiped his chin. She then held up another one for him, at which point he noticed that out of the three of them, she was the only one with actual table manners. Ah, sweet opportunity!
"You know Knives, Milly's got much better manners than you."
Knives looked taken aback for a moment, but then settled back down into his usual air of omnipotence. "Manners are unimportant when danger could appear at any time."
"Yeah, and Thomases fly."
"So, want to come along to pick up supplies, or would you rather mope about the room until they kick you out at noon?"
Knives just reached down to the duffel bag and dug out some money. "Then you had best get moving before I rent the room for another night."
"But that's my money!"
"Consider it added motivation to be efficient with your errands."
He groaned and got up. Looks like there wasn't any time for seconds if he wanted to beat the suns. However, there might be a way to eat his doughnuts and get the truck too... "Milly, could you get a to-go box before you're done?"
"Certainly, Mr. Vash. Half plain, half glazed, right?"
"Perfect! Thanks, gotta run!" He wiggled his fingers, then was out the door in a flash, leaving behind little puffs of dust and surprised patrons in his wake.
He had beaten the clock, though he had fudged a bit on the definition of 'finished'. He had one more thing to do, but since it wasn't exactly his thing to do, he was technically finished. Of course, Knives wasn't very happy when he found out, but since Knives seemed to never be happy it was more or less business as usual. Thus, Knives was waiting in the truck while he and Milly entered Frank Marlon's shop.
Upon entering, he was assaulted by a variety of smells, a few of which were his old friends of grease and gunpowder, but others were rather new. Was that glue? It didn't quite smell right for that. There was also a classic smell of hard work, which he assumed was the reason why Frank was sleeping on his desk instead of in bed, wherever that was. Poor fellow must have had his work cut out for him with the Cross Punisher. At least it appeared to be finished, since it was sitting by the desk and appeared to be in one piece. The ammo still had to be reloaded, as it was sitting next to the weapon in a neat pile. Except that wasn't the only thing still sitting out... Oh man, if Frank wasn't done he'd catch hell from Knives over the delay. He shook the sleeping man as Milly picked up the Cross Punisher.
"Zzz.. ¤snerk¤ ...come back tomorrow, I'm closed..."
This wasn't working. Instead, he leaned down and bellowed "Earthquake!" into the gunsmith's ear while rocking the table. That got him up lickity split. Or rather, down on the floor, then up. "Dammit Vash, that was a terrible plan then, and it's still a terrible plan now!"
"For bank robbers, I guess. It's a great wakeup call."
"Don't remind me. The suns came up before I finished... Man, barely two hours of sleep. What's the rush?"
"Eh, well, we kinda have to get moving. Please say you got it all done?"
"The Cross Punisher? Yeah, I got it done. So, Ms. Thompson, would you like to try it out? There's a few targets set up on the roof."
"Do we have time Mr. Vash?"
"Well, I guess. He's not going to get any less mad if we take a few minutes more."
"Great! The stairs are right over there, let me know how it goes. If you're in a hurry, looks like I'm in one too!"
He had vanished into another room while Milly tromped up the stairs. He could follow Marlon, follow Milly, or go enjoy Knives' company out in the truck. Well, scratch that last one. He decided to follow Milly after a bit, since things might get problematic if she activated the rocket launcher... It appeared to be the right choice, since he heard a familiar clanking as he put his boot on the first step up. The following 'FOOMP-shoop-CLACK' wasn't a normal noise. If the rocket launcher had jammed... oh dear. He raced up the rest of the stairs and forced his eyes to adjust instantly. If it was a jam, he had only moments before the round exploded inside the gun.
However, there were a few things off with the scene that presented itself. First, the open end was for the machine gun, and it was only half open at that. Second, Milly didn't look the least bit let down that something wasn't working. Sure, the mouth ajar was a sure sign of surprise, but stars in one's eyes was not a classic sign of disappointment. A few seconds later, that ajar mouth was firmly fixed in an exuberant expression of glee. Such sights were reproduced audibly when Milly burst out in wild laughter and started to skip around the roof, swinging the Cross Punisher around like a baton- A really large, heavy one that was headed his way. He jumped back to avoid getting his head bashed in, then felt an abrupt lack of footing. Oh, right, he had been at the top of a stairwell. A rather steep one, that had two nice twists on the way down. Three good thuds later, he was at a nice stop at the bottom enjoying the feeling of non-movement. While staring up at his legs that were three steps above him, he asked a question to the dust motes he had stirred up. "Did I miss something?"
"That would be my question. I heard laughing and then I come out to see you there. Though to judge from that position, I'd say it was a pretty funny fall."
Before he could respond to that, a heavy tromping made him look up. Milly was coming down, taking the stairs three at a time, and he was in the way. A short scream escaped before he sprang out of the way, running off upside down in a handstand. He knew what a boot to the face could do coming from a little girl without two immensely heavy guns on her person, and didn't want to discover what happened if it was Milly introducing his face to footwear. Milly didn't notice his brush with injury, too wrapped up in wrapping Frank in a massive hug.
"Thank you Mr. Marlon! You don't know what this means to me!"
"So you...like it?"
"Yes! It's wonderful!"
"Great... I was...starting to...wonder..."
Milly dropped Frank and bounced back up the stairs. The gunsmith collapsed on the ground, panting for the air that had just been squeezed out of him. In the meantime, he did a quick flip and returned the world to its proper 'This Side Up' orientation. He still had no idea just what had happened.
"If that's her liking something, I don't want to see what happens if she doesn't like something."
"She takes away their pudding."
"Wha?"
"Never mind. What did you do?"
"What I always do. Let's go up and take a look."
Going up the stairs again, this time letting the gunsmith go first and cautiously poking his head out to make sure there were no instruments of unintentional injury swinging about. Milly was over by one of the targets, unwrapping something coiled around it.
"So, I see you found the net launcher. I wasn't sure which one you'd use first."
"You mean there's more?"
"Sure is ma'am. I'll explain it all on the way, and about how to treat it, as there are a few special procedures for the cleaning and reloading. Bring that net along, and I'll show you how to refold it. I need to finish packing."
Net launcher? Special procedures? Packing? "What's going on?!" he exclaimed as he ran after the gunsmith.
"Heh, maybe you should lay off the drinks, they're making you slow. I did a bit more than just a tune up as you've guessed. That gun's a whole different beast now, one that's just as strong, but a little less sharp in tooth and claw. Oh, and I'm hitching a ride with you folks."
He echoed that last phrase like a parrot. "Hitching a ride?"
"Yeah, you're headed for Inepril City, right? It's turning into the biggest gun show the planet's ever seen. Every maker, every age, everything from standard issue to heavily modified to complete custom jobs. I was planning to head over there anyway to check out the sights, and you folks would just make the traveling that less dull!"
Then Frank was through the door, tossing more things in a fat suitcase for an extended trip. He was left standing there frazzled as activity took place around him. First Milly came down and grabbed the case of extra ammo Frank pointed to, then Frank lugged the suitcase to the door. When had he invited the gunsmith to come along, anyway?
"Hey Vash, move it! You said you were in a hurry, right? Unless you'd prefer to stay locked up in here when I close the store."
He snapped out of his state and spun around. "Coming!" There was only one thought on his mind right then- "Knives is really not going to like this..."
¤rubs hands together¤ Heh, looks like someone just got an upgrade. I've had way too much fun writing this chapter, even if it did take a bit. I think one more chapter with Vash, then we'll see about getting Meryl out of the slammer. Only one thing's for certain- I completely lost my marbles some time ago. Watch your step.
(Note: Story and review FF.net servers decided to go whrrr-CHUNK just as I tried to access my reviews. Everyone, join me in beating the technology with blunt objects until its moral improves.)
Sorian: Yeah, show that wall who's the boss!
Yma: Well, as you can see above, Frank will be sticking around for a while. It is all part of The Plan™.
coffeetin: To answer the question, yes. It's not too strong though, since Vash never used his telepathy much. Knives, on the other hand... As for the tone, expect it to vary quite a bit depending on who's involved. The people who view the world will be setting it far more than the situation they're in, though neither will have dominance over the other. It's just how I set the balance.
kitsune: Ooh, mucho comment! I'm glad you like the style I've got, though there will be dark parts. However, I am a follower of the Great Warm Fuzzy, so it won't get too bad. And don't worry about any Mary Sues dropping in, I have Wolfwood and Legato keeping them away. As for my e-mail, I don't have it listed because, well, it's something I hardly ever check. Combine that with hotmail, and you've got an addy subject to frequent dropouts. (This isn't new. Folks have said I'm a royal pain to get in touch with for years, no matter the medium. Yay me!)
SapphireWhiteTiggress: Acting like Monty Burns must mean I've garnered interest. Good or bad, I'm not sure. It is Monty Burns.