Bit of a break while I worked overtime and retrieved something from the edge of the
abyss- tiring, but the money is good. Anyway, I'm back in my comfy writing chair, uh,
writing. Onward!
Disclaimer: Spiders all over the room doesn't mean anything. Nope, nothing at all. I hope.
Rise of the Silver Stars
Chapter 15: Hideout
A slight breeze blew down the street, raising some dust from the rubble and dirtier persons present. Of course, it was nowhere close to being a good cleaning, which would undoubtedly require a considerable sum of time, effort, and double dollars. Then a pair of artillery shells landed a bit close for comfort, reminding those present that if anything was to be done, it had better be done right quick before the gunners got range. However, the man in pajamas didn't seem to give the shells a second thought. Or first thought, for that matter- he was ignoring them completely. This just reinforced the overall evidence that this man was a complete, utter, total, all-consuming loon.
"Somehow, I don't feel so." The discrepancy between her gut and her logic was considerable, and this was a problem. They usually complemented each other, except when it came to pointy-haired idiots with doughnut cravings. This man wasn't pointy-haired, more shaggy-haired. The idiot part certainly applied. Doughnuts would have to wait until she saw him eat, which if she had her way would be in about, oh, never. The only thing that was certain was that he had a very sharp object, which she'd be wise to avoid. However, the feeling she had about him was persistent and menacing. There was something about him that reminded her of Knives, the way he seemed to look down on everyone. Quite frankly, it was giving her the willies. The Nebraskas took to the logical conclusion.
"Rai-dei, eh? Big words- for someone about to be a grease spot! Gofsef, show him your fist of fury!"
The big boy bellowed something that sounded sort of like "Yeah!", though she couldn't really tell. How on Gunsmoke the Nebraskas could understand each other was a mystery she might waste time on if she wasn't preoccupied with trying to break free from the big family. Dangling like she was, there was no leverage, and there wasn't really anything to grip on the massive hand holding her up. She was quite effectively stuck, but a mounting sense of injustice was welling up. Maybe if she got angry enough, she could break the bindings... and fall to the ground which appeared to be hard and strewn with shattered glass. No-go there.
The big boy took the offensive, and launched his fist at the loon. The loon didn't budge, just giving the blade an almost casual horizontal flick as the fist approached. The impact reverberated, shattering all the windows in the building and adding to the unsafe landing conditions below. The loon vanished in the spray of dust kicked up from the building, only to reappear from the cloud a mere moment later. He was airborne, propelled upwards and foreward by the impact just below him. He landed on the cable linking Gofsef to his arm, and darted along it at blinding speed. This forced a reassessment- someone capable of such feats wasn't an ordinary run of the mill loon. She tried to search her memory for any mention of someone by the name of Rai-dei, but the time she had was short.
In any case, he was skilled. He sprang up in a flip as he reached the elbow on the giant, and swept the blade underneath to neatly slice through the cable. Before the big boy even noticed, he had bounced up and over his shoulder, and launched off towards the ground, slowing himself by slashing through the winching backpack. The Nebraskas just stood there for a second, then started to wail. Well, most of them did. Professor Nebraska was yelling at the clan mother to do something, and the clan mother looked fairly furious. Rai-dei may have just taken out a huge mutant mechanical freak in under five seconds, but it was her huge mutant mechanical freak, and the clan mother was going to whoop somebody but good for it. The initial show of flying fists, a mere demonstration of what was to come, hurt like hell. The mountain of motherly fury had evidently forgotten that she was still hanging from a hand, and getting jerked around by the strings at such speeds nearly dislocated her limbs.
"Watch what you're doing, you jerk! I'm still hanging here!"
The mother didn't notice. As her luck would have it, the first real punch directed at Rai-dei had her along for the ride. His blade whipped up, and she found herself faced with the options of getting skewered, crushed into the ground, of merely dragged through the nice layer of broken glass with no choice in which one would actually happen. However, the cruel fates that had plagued her since arriving in the city suddenly decided to be merciful. Rai-dei sprang towards her, and his blade vanished, along with most of his arm. She felt a sudden breeze along each limb, then a brief sensation of free fall before getting shoved back up. The world spun a few times, and once 'up' sorted itself out she found herself slung over Rai-dei's shoulder, peeking out from where his blade's sheath was strapped to his waist, and mostly upside down. The mother's fist had missed them both, but the patch of ground it hadn't missed would be feeling it for a long time. Then she felt where he had a grip on her.
"Move that hand you creep!"
He didn't answer or even acknowledge her. She saw his other hand reach around as if to clamp down on her face, but it instead clamped down on the sheath and pulled it free. She heard a series of gunshots, and blood spurted out from the giant mother's knee. That brought the oversized hulk to the ground, with the daughter barely managing to cling on and not get pitched off. A voice came from behind, commanding yet effeminate.
"Thanks for the assistance, but we need to get out of here. Follow me, and hurry."
Rai-dei turned, and she saw the sheriff woman again. She was beckoning from an alley, then turned to run down it. She found herself yanked foreward for the umpteenth time that day and wailed out a "Put me down!" before a sudden bout of dizziness and another artillery shell impact silenced her protests. She'd wait until she wasn't in imminent danger of being blow to bits then smack Rai-dei for not moving that to-close-to-certain-areas hand, be he her savior or not. He was still amazingly fast even with her draped over a shoulder, and had caught up to the sheriff in seconds. He then knocked over and swept up the sheriff in one quick move, and kept on running without breaking his stride. What was he, one of Milly's brothers? In any case, he now had two irritated women, one over his shoulder and one tucked under the arm on the other side. It was time for the new piece of his luggage to sputter at the inglorious situation.
"What the?! I can run just fine on my own!"
He finally responded. "Time is of uttermost importance. Directions, now."
The sheriff began to bark out the demanded directions, leading them on a dizzying tour of the back alleys and side streets of December. Much as she hated to admit it, they were moving a lot faster than if they were each hoofing it, though every corner was making her swing like a rag doll. He was somehow bouncing off the walls to keep charging full tilt around every corner, and though being mostly upside down was playing havoc with her senses she was fairly sure they had been running sideways on a few walls. He was incredibly skilled, and this didn't bode well with the feelings she had about him earlier. An instruction to enter an upcoming building and get to the third floor was obeyed in reverse- he bounced between two buildings and entered the third floor via a large open window, somehow managing to not smack any passengers against any window frames. There was a gasp from someone inside the room, and he prompted the sheriff for more directions.
"Er, we're here. You can stop now."
She finally felt herself hoisted off the shoulder, which had been starting to dig into her gut. The sheriff was already on her own feet, and shut the window through which they had arrived. Unfortunately, her own feet weren't up to keeping her upright between the upside down jostling that had her balance scrambled, and the intense pain that shot through her limbs. Her downward trip was interrupted as the room's occupant caught her and sat her on a sofa. A glimpse at the face of her benefactor assured her that a moment's rest could be obtained here.
"So, tea anyone?" That smile was firmly in place. She sighed, and let herself sprawl across the sofa before responding.
"Make it coffee, and strong enough to power a sand steamer."
Sara nodded, and walked off towards the kitchen to leave the rest of them to attend to minor injuries of the physical nature. Only one thought managed to run through her head before she phased out. "Thompsons. What a family."
¤ ¤ ¤
It was truly amazing what a few cups of coffee could do. Now they were seated around the kitchen table, with respective drinks of choice before each person. They made one heck of an afternoon gathering. To her left was Rai-dei, still in those weird pajamas with a cup of green tea reflecting his scowl back at him. To her right was Marianne, sheriff badge shined up and gleaming as she took a gulp of coffee. Across was Sara, who kept up the Thompson trademark smile while waiting for her raspberry tea to cool. Then there was herself, still in prison stripes and sporting unflattering bracelets while sucking down about half the coffeepot. Good thing Sara was a psychologist- anyone who walked in on this teatime group would need therapy to cope with the scene.
There hadn't been much talk besides the purely functional- "Pass the gauze," "no sugar please," "I only drink green tea." There was a certain surreal aspect to it all, but she could ignore that. However, it couldn't last, even though she was enjoying just acting like a regular human again. So she took a deep breath, and asked The Question.
"So, now what?"
Reality barged back in and made itself at home. Lips were tugged downwards all around, even managing to drag down the Thompson smile of perpetualty. She could have waited another minute, but problems tended to be impatient and would doubtlessly come to get them whether they were ready or not. Better she made sure there was a plan, rather than simply winging it. She almost asked herself what Vash would do, but "simply wing it" was already out. Unfortunately, frowns like these usually meant that "simply wing it" had been the plan until now. Marianne kicked off the brainstorming.
"Well, we need to get you out of the city, and quickly. The search will be underway by now."
Her reply was somewhere between halfhearted and sarcastic. "Evacuate the criminal? That doesn't sound very sheriff-like to me."
"Don't take me wrong. I became a sheriff because I've always had a strong sense of justice, and becoming a lawman was natural. However, what's happening here isn't justice. It's a witchhunt. I couldn't just stand by and let them hang you, so I intended to testify for you. The Nebraskas have since complicated things."
"I don't want to be an outlaw! Can't I just turn myself in?"
"Sara, hit the radio."
The Thompson leaned back and flicked on a small counter radio. It crackled to life in the middle of a broadcast. "-doors. Should anyone spot the fugitive, do not try and apprehend. Alert the authorities at once. We repeat, Derringer Meryl has escaped from the city courthouse less than two hours ago. Martial law is in effect, and all citizens are to remain indoors. Should anyone spot the fugitive-"
Another quick wrist flick had the radio off. "Okay, so they're a bit worked up, but I still don't see why we can't all avoid a lot more trouble down the road when all I have to do is-"
"That was just the civilian bands. The orders on the lawmen and cavalry frequencies are... shoot to kill."
"WHAT?!" The chair flew backwards as she bolted up, and their drinks all jumped as her hands came down on the tabletop. Sara got up and retrieved a towel to clean up what spilled.
"I heard it just as the Nebraskas began to run off. Only snipers and artillery were to try and engage, but the Nebraskas move fast for their size. There was a window to get you out before you were put down, so I took it, overmatched as I was. It was a good thing Mr. Dei showed up-"
Their shaggy guest interrupted. "Rai-dei. One name."
"Okay, it's a good thing Mr. Rai-dei showed up, I may be good, but the Nebraskas are in their own league."
"Don't those fools realize I wasn't escaping? I was being goddamn kidnapped!"
"Even I still had doubts about that as I set off after the Nebraskas. I saw enough to indicate that it wasn't an escape, but without any recording I doubt they'll believe me. After all, they have managed to get this far without a single shred of evidence. Without anything concrete, my hearsay will get shoved aside by their hearsay."
The fury within her died out, and with it her strength. She sagged back down into the chair, which Sara had been wise enough to pick up and place behind her. The elder Thompson helped her ease down and kept a firm grip on her right hand, even as her head lolled back to stare at the ceiling. Okay, so turning herself in right now was out of the question.
"Any ideas Mr. Rai-dei?"
"I have none that do not involve great loss of life, which my honor will not allow at this time. The forces arrayed around the city are most powerful."
"Surely you aren't suggesting that you could break through the Cavalry lines? Subduing the Nebraskas was one thing, but the Cavalry has gotten a lot stronger in the past two years since Augusta."
"It is no great challenge for one able to enter the ranks of the Gung-ho Guns."
Her head shot back up. "WHAT?!" To the side, Marianne echoed her exclamation and wide-eyed stare.
"Until Augusta, I was known as Rai-dei the Blade, ninth member of the Gung-ho Guns."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Marianne slowly pulling out her gun from its holster. Right then and there, she really wished her derringers were with her.
"Had I intended you harm, you would already be dead. Do nothing foolish."
He was eyeing Marianne's arm. She was beaten before a fight could start, so she sighed and brought her hands up to the table. However, something about what Rai-dei said rattled wrong. It took a few moments to work through his revelation and discover what the discord was.
"You say you were a member on the Gung-ho Guns until Augusta? Did you quit like Wolfwood?"
"Do not speak that name!" His fist thudded on the table, causing another round of spills. "One does not quit the Gung-ho Guns! The only way to leave is by death!"
"Then why the past tense?"
He turned to face her fully, the look in his eyes so intense that she shrank back. His next words were barely audible, hissed from between clenched teeth. "I died."
His hand shot out and clenched her wrist. Before she could react, he had shoved her hand through the pajamas and against his chest. She could feel the roughness of a large scar and the warmth of skin, which effectively countered the death claim. Now she was getting annoyed- enough people had been forcing her to move as they liked lately. "Well, I don't see what you intended to do with all this, but if you don't let my hand go right this instant I'll smack you so hard you... you..."
He wasn't letting her hand move, and his expression remained unchanged. She was still feeling the scar and the warmth of his skin, but that was all. Ice suddenly shot through her veins. It couldn't be possible... She stopped trying to pull back, and instead pushed her hand against his chest, trying to feel what she knew had to be there. Nothing but a scar and warm skin made itself known. She shifted her gaze back up to his face.
"There's no heartbeat. How can this be? You don't have any heartbeat!"
His expression remained chiseled in stone as he spoke. "My heart was shot through. It can never beat again. My blood flows still because of a mechanical device, but to a warrior such as I, without the pounding of my heart within me I am dead. I am doomed to wander this world as a walking corpse for my incredible dishonor. I sought to become the greatest of warriors, to triumph over the ultimate abyss... And instead I broke, and tried to run like a coward, then seek help like a weakling. Vash the Stampede showed me what a weak and imperfect warrior I was for all my efforts and pride. Now, I must somehow atone for my hubris, so I have started by taking the Stampede's philosophy as my own."
He reached into his pajamas and brought out a book. She knew which one it was without having to read the title. Enough people had been showing it to her lately, but this was one of the last people she expected to pick it up.
"Perhaps if I honor him, he may grant me forgiveness and allow my body to finally rest. Until then, I exist as this empty shell."
He finally let her hand drop away, and turned back to his tea. Silence reigned for long minutes, until Sara made a jab to lighten the mood. "Well, at least we'll have a good rest tonight. Nothing like a new view on things to induce a good sleep!"
Everyone glanced her way as she tried to force a laugh. "You might be a Thompson but you're not Milly... Oh well, at least he's already in pajamas."
"These are not pajamas! They are traditional robes for warriors like I!"
"Still look like pajamas to me..."
A pair of sudden snorts jolted her up from the cooling coffee. Marianne and Sara were practically turning red in the face as they tried unsuccessfully to hold back laughter.
"The origin of this long tradition can be traced back thousands of years! The warrior's robes are a sign of those what can wield a weapon fully! The practice first started- are you listening?!"
Marianne tried to reign in the laughter that was consuming her long enough to blurt out a response. "So, what you're saying is, you always wear fancy pajamas?"
The sheriff descended back into whoops of laughter. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny. Rai-dei's attempts at explanation were just making it worse, and even she began to chortle. By the time he began to proclaim about the proud samurai of ancient Japan, orating like an opera performer to be heard above the racket of the laughter, she had joined the rest of the group in the wonderful outburst.
I said I had a good reason for bringing back Mr. Screaming Man! And yes, Rai-dei's been wearing his samurai robes the whole time. I figured that they'd be rather unusual to most Gunsmoke natives, though once again something developed that was far and beyond what I had initially planned. Just go with the flow, I say.
Legato: This is most unacceptable. There were to be no members of the Gung-ho Guns left alive.
Bite me, blue boy. I'm omnipotent in the author notes.
Reviewer Responses
coffeetin: Meryl just got loaded on the java juice, so the Wrath has not befallen anyone. Yet.
betsytheripper: ¤wipes drool up, then tosses the tissue at Legato¤ Heh, well, since this is still synchronous time with the events in Vash's chapters, he managed to miss it. Mostly. You can find the brief bit he managed to get during the sequence with Knives and Milly at the Warrens City inn. Don't worry, Inepril's all abuzz with Meryl's capture by the law.
MidgetMinion: You mentioned regular updates, and LOOK what happens! I get called in for overtime at work! We must be very quiet about such things, lest the excessively bored gods hear...
cjflutterbye: IRS's Rules to Live By, #46: Never waste a good cake. I'm just waiting for the right moment to use it.
Sorian: If that chapter's scary, then RUN. Run for the hills, and don't look back!
kitsune: ¤takes on the voice of an Utwig¤ ...you're not gonna like me later on. I just know it. Therefore, I can't act on any marriage proposals until the whole thing is done. Consider it an extended engagement.
SapphireWhiteTigress: Yep, they missed one. Sure did indeed, they really missed one! Eh heh heh...
Yma: As you may have guessed, Rai-dei has just been promoted from 'one-episode Gung-ho Gun' to 'hanger-on for the interminable time period'. Hmm... Vash = Lupin, Knives = Jagan, Meryl = Fujiko, Rai-dei = Goeman? Nah... Still funny in any case.
Foreboding brought to you by the same guy that picked out Legato's theme music.
Disclaimer: Spiders all over the room doesn't mean anything. Nope, nothing at all. I hope.
Chapter 15: Hideout
A slight breeze blew down the street, raising some dust from the rubble and dirtier persons present. Of course, it was nowhere close to being a good cleaning, which would undoubtedly require a considerable sum of time, effort, and double dollars. Then a pair of artillery shells landed a bit close for comfort, reminding those present that if anything was to be done, it had better be done right quick before the gunners got range. However, the man in pajamas didn't seem to give the shells a second thought. Or first thought, for that matter- he was ignoring them completely. This just reinforced the overall evidence that this man was a complete, utter, total, all-consuming loon.
"Somehow, I don't feel so." The discrepancy between her gut and her logic was considerable, and this was a problem. They usually complemented each other, except when it came to pointy-haired idiots with doughnut cravings. This man wasn't pointy-haired, more shaggy-haired. The idiot part certainly applied. Doughnuts would have to wait until she saw him eat, which if she had her way would be in about, oh, never. The only thing that was certain was that he had a very sharp object, which she'd be wise to avoid. However, the feeling she had about him was persistent and menacing. There was something about him that reminded her of Knives, the way he seemed to look down on everyone. Quite frankly, it was giving her the willies. The Nebraskas took to the logical conclusion.
"Rai-dei, eh? Big words- for someone about to be a grease spot! Gofsef, show him your fist of fury!"
The big boy bellowed something that sounded sort of like "Yeah!", though she couldn't really tell. How on Gunsmoke the Nebraskas could understand each other was a mystery she might waste time on if she wasn't preoccupied with trying to break free from the big family. Dangling like she was, there was no leverage, and there wasn't really anything to grip on the massive hand holding her up. She was quite effectively stuck, but a mounting sense of injustice was welling up. Maybe if she got angry enough, she could break the bindings... and fall to the ground which appeared to be hard and strewn with shattered glass. No-go there.
The big boy took the offensive, and launched his fist at the loon. The loon didn't budge, just giving the blade an almost casual horizontal flick as the fist approached. The impact reverberated, shattering all the windows in the building and adding to the unsafe landing conditions below. The loon vanished in the spray of dust kicked up from the building, only to reappear from the cloud a mere moment later. He was airborne, propelled upwards and foreward by the impact just below him. He landed on the cable linking Gofsef to his arm, and darted along it at blinding speed. This forced a reassessment- someone capable of such feats wasn't an ordinary run of the mill loon. She tried to search her memory for any mention of someone by the name of Rai-dei, but the time she had was short.
In any case, he was skilled. He sprang up in a flip as he reached the elbow on the giant, and swept the blade underneath to neatly slice through the cable. Before the big boy even noticed, he had bounced up and over his shoulder, and launched off towards the ground, slowing himself by slashing through the winching backpack. The Nebraskas just stood there for a second, then started to wail. Well, most of them did. Professor Nebraska was yelling at the clan mother to do something, and the clan mother looked fairly furious. Rai-dei may have just taken out a huge mutant mechanical freak in under five seconds, but it was her huge mutant mechanical freak, and the clan mother was going to whoop somebody but good for it. The initial show of flying fists, a mere demonstration of what was to come, hurt like hell. The mountain of motherly fury had evidently forgotten that she was still hanging from a hand, and getting jerked around by the strings at such speeds nearly dislocated her limbs.
"Watch what you're doing, you jerk! I'm still hanging here!"
The mother didn't notice. As her luck would have it, the first real punch directed at Rai-dei had her along for the ride. His blade whipped up, and she found herself faced with the options of getting skewered, crushed into the ground, of merely dragged through the nice layer of broken glass with no choice in which one would actually happen. However, the cruel fates that had plagued her since arriving in the city suddenly decided to be merciful. Rai-dei sprang towards her, and his blade vanished, along with most of his arm. She felt a sudden breeze along each limb, then a brief sensation of free fall before getting shoved back up. The world spun a few times, and once 'up' sorted itself out she found herself slung over Rai-dei's shoulder, peeking out from where his blade's sheath was strapped to his waist, and mostly upside down. The mother's fist had missed them both, but the patch of ground it hadn't missed would be feeling it for a long time. Then she felt where he had a grip on her.
"Move that hand you creep!"
He didn't answer or even acknowledge her. She saw his other hand reach around as if to clamp down on her face, but it instead clamped down on the sheath and pulled it free. She heard a series of gunshots, and blood spurted out from the giant mother's knee. That brought the oversized hulk to the ground, with the daughter barely managing to cling on and not get pitched off. A voice came from behind, commanding yet effeminate.
"Thanks for the assistance, but we need to get out of here. Follow me, and hurry."
Rai-dei turned, and she saw the sheriff woman again. She was beckoning from an alley, then turned to run down it. She found herself yanked foreward for the umpteenth time that day and wailed out a "Put me down!" before a sudden bout of dizziness and another artillery shell impact silenced her protests. She'd wait until she wasn't in imminent danger of being blow to bits then smack Rai-dei for not moving that to-close-to-certain-areas hand, be he her savior or not. He was still amazingly fast even with her draped over a shoulder, and had caught up to the sheriff in seconds. He then knocked over and swept up the sheriff in one quick move, and kept on running without breaking his stride. What was he, one of Milly's brothers? In any case, he now had two irritated women, one over his shoulder and one tucked under the arm on the other side. It was time for the new piece of his luggage to sputter at the inglorious situation.
"What the?! I can run just fine on my own!"
He finally responded. "Time is of uttermost importance. Directions, now."
The sheriff began to bark out the demanded directions, leading them on a dizzying tour of the back alleys and side streets of December. Much as she hated to admit it, they were moving a lot faster than if they were each hoofing it, though every corner was making her swing like a rag doll. He was somehow bouncing off the walls to keep charging full tilt around every corner, and though being mostly upside down was playing havoc with her senses she was fairly sure they had been running sideways on a few walls. He was incredibly skilled, and this didn't bode well with the feelings she had about him earlier. An instruction to enter an upcoming building and get to the third floor was obeyed in reverse- he bounced between two buildings and entered the third floor via a large open window, somehow managing to not smack any passengers against any window frames. There was a gasp from someone inside the room, and he prompted the sheriff for more directions.
"Er, we're here. You can stop now."
She finally felt herself hoisted off the shoulder, which had been starting to dig into her gut. The sheriff was already on her own feet, and shut the window through which they had arrived. Unfortunately, her own feet weren't up to keeping her upright between the upside down jostling that had her balance scrambled, and the intense pain that shot through her limbs. Her downward trip was interrupted as the room's occupant caught her and sat her on a sofa. A glimpse at the face of her benefactor assured her that a moment's rest could be obtained here.
"So, tea anyone?" That smile was firmly in place. She sighed, and let herself sprawl across the sofa before responding.
"Make it coffee, and strong enough to power a sand steamer."
Sara nodded, and walked off towards the kitchen to leave the rest of them to attend to minor injuries of the physical nature. Only one thought managed to run through her head before she phased out. "Thompsons. What a family."
It was truly amazing what a few cups of coffee could do. Now they were seated around the kitchen table, with respective drinks of choice before each person. They made one heck of an afternoon gathering. To her left was Rai-dei, still in those weird pajamas with a cup of green tea reflecting his scowl back at him. To her right was Marianne, sheriff badge shined up and gleaming as she took a gulp of coffee. Across was Sara, who kept up the Thompson trademark smile while waiting for her raspberry tea to cool. Then there was herself, still in prison stripes and sporting unflattering bracelets while sucking down about half the coffeepot. Good thing Sara was a psychologist- anyone who walked in on this teatime group would need therapy to cope with the scene.
There hadn't been much talk besides the purely functional- "Pass the gauze," "no sugar please," "I only drink green tea." There was a certain surreal aspect to it all, but she could ignore that. However, it couldn't last, even though she was enjoying just acting like a regular human again. So she took a deep breath, and asked The Question.
"So, now what?"
Reality barged back in and made itself at home. Lips were tugged downwards all around, even managing to drag down the Thompson smile of perpetualty. She could have waited another minute, but problems tended to be impatient and would doubtlessly come to get them whether they were ready or not. Better she made sure there was a plan, rather than simply winging it. She almost asked herself what Vash would do, but "simply wing it" was already out. Unfortunately, frowns like these usually meant that "simply wing it" had been the plan until now. Marianne kicked off the brainstorming.
"Well, we need to get you out of the city, and quickly. The search will be underway by now."
Her reply was somewhere between halfhearted and sarcastic. "Evacuate the criminal? That doesn't sound very sheriff-like to me."
"Don't take me wrong. I became a sheriff because I've always had a strong sense of justice, and becoming a lawman was natural. However, what's happening here isn't justice. It's a witchhunt. I couldn't just stand by and let them hang you, so I intended to testify for you. The Nebraskas have since complicated things."
"I don't want to be an outlaw! Can't I just turn myself in?"
"Sara, hit the radio."
The Thompson leaned back and flicked on a small counter radio. It crackled to life in the middle of a broadcast. "-doors. Should anyone spot the fugitive, do not try and apprehend. Alert the authorities at once. We repeat, Derringer Meryl has escaped from the city courthouse less than two hours ago. Martial law is in effect, and all citizens are to remain indoors. Should anyone spot the fugitive-"
Another quick wrist flick had the radio off. "Okay, so they're a bit worked up, but I still don't see why we can't all avoid a lot more trouble down the road when all I have to do is-"
"That was just the civilian bands. The orders on the lawmen and cavalry frequencies are... shoot to kill."
"WHAT?!" The chair flew backwards as she bolted up, and their drinks all jumped as her hands came down on the tabletop. Sara got up and retrieved a towel to clean up what spilled.
"I heard it just as the Nebraskas began to run off. Only snipers and artillery were to try and engage, but the Nebraskas move fast for their size. There was a window to get you out before you were put down, so I took it, overmatched as I was. It was a good thing Mr. Dei showed up-"
Their shaggy guest interrupted. "Rai-dei. One name."
"Okay, it's a good thing Mr. Rai-dei showed up, I may be good, but the Nebraskas are in their own league."
"Don't those fools realize I wasn't escaping? I was being goddamn kidnapped!"
"Even I still had doubts about that as I set off after the Nebraskas. I saw enough to indicate that it wasn't an escape, but without any recording I doubt they'll believe me. After all, they have managed to get this far without a single shred of evidence. Without anything concrete, my hearsay will get shoved aside by their hearsay."
The fury within her died out, and with it her strength. She sagged back down into the chair, which Sara had been wise enough to pick up and place behind her. The elder Thompson helped her ease down and kept a firm grip on her right hand, even as her head lolled back to stare at the ceiling. Okay, so turning herself in right now was out of the question.
"Any ideas Mr. Rai-dei?"
"I have none that do not involve great loss of life, which my honor will not allow at this time. The forces arrayed around the city are most powerful."
"Surely you aren't suggesting that you could break through the Cavalry lines? Subduing the Nebraskas was one thing, but the Cavalry has gotten a lot stronger in the past two years since Augusta."
"It is no great challenge for one able to enter the ranks of the Gung-ho Guns."
Her head shot back up. "WHAT?!" To the side, Marianne echoed her exclamation and wide-eyed stare.
"Until Augusta, I was known as Rai-dei the Blade, ninth member of the Gung-ho Guns."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Marianne slowly pulling out her gun from its holster. Right then and there, she really wished her derringers were with her.
"Had I intended you harm, you would already be dead. Do nothing foolish."
He was eyeing Marianne's arm. She was beaten before a fight could start, so she sighed and brought her hands up to the table. However, something about what Rai-dei said rattled wrong. It took a few moments to work through his revelation and discover what the discord was.
"You say you were a member on the Gung-ho Guns until Augusta? Did you quit like Wolfwood?"
"Do not speak that name!" His fist thudded on the table, causing another round of spills. "One does not quit the Gung-ho Guns! The only way to leave is by death!"
"Then why the past tense?"
He turned to face her fully, the look in his eyes so intense that she shrank back. His next words were barely audible, hissed from between clenched teeth. "I died."
His hand shot out and clenched her wrist. Before she could react, he had shoved her hand through the pajamas and against his chest. She could feel the roughness of a large scar and the warmth of skin, which effectively countered the death claim. Now she was getting annoyed- enough people had been forcing her to move as they liked lately. "Well, I don't see what you intended to do with all this, but if you don't let my hand go right this instant I'll smack you so hard you... you..."
He wasn't letting her hand move, and his expression remained unchanged. She was still feeling the scar and the warmth of his skin, but that was all. Ice suddenly shot through her veins. It couldn't be possible... She stopped trying to pull back, and instead pushed her hand against his chest, trying to feel what she knew had to be there. Nothing but a scar and warm skin made itself known. She shifted her gaze back up to his face.
"There's no heartbeat. How can this be? You don't have any heartbeat!"
His expression remained chiseled in stone as he spoke. "My heart was shot through. It can never beat again. My blood flows still because of a mechanical device, but to a warrior such as I, without the pounding of my heart within me I am dead. I am doomed to wander this world as a walking corpse for my incredible dishonor. I sought to become the greatest of warriors, to triumph over the ultimate abyss... And instead I broke, and tried to run like a coward, then seek help like a weakling. Vash the Stampede showed me what a weak and imperfect warrior I was for all my efforts and pride. Now, I must somehow atone for my hubris, so I have started by taking the Stampede's philosophy as my own."
He reached into his pajamas and brought out a book. She knew which one it was without having to read the title. Enough people had been showing it to her lately, but this was one of the last people she expected to pick it up.
"Perhaps if I honor him, he may grant me forgiveness and allow my body to finally rest. Until then, I exist as this empty shell."
He finally let her hand drop away, and turned back to his tea. Silence reigned for long minutes, until Sara made a jab to lighten the mood. "Well, at least we'll have a good rest tonight. Nothing like a new view on things to induce a good sleep!"
Everyone glanced her way as she tried to force a laugh. "You might be a Thompson but you're not Milly... Oh well, at least he's already in pajamas."
"These are not pajamas! They are traditional robes for warriors like I!"
"Still look like pajamas to me..."
A pair of sudden snorts jolted her up from the cooling coffee. Marianne and Sara were practically turning red in the face as they tried unsuccessfully to hold back laughter.
"The origin of this long tradition can be traced back thousands of years! The warrior's robes are a sign of those what can wield a weapon fully! The practice first started- are you listening?!"
Marianne tried to reign in the laughter that was consuming her long enough to blurt out a response. "So, what you're saying is, you always wear fancy pajamas?"
The sheriff descended back into whoops of laughter. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny. Rai-dei's attempts at explanation were just making it worse, and even she began to chortle. By the time he began to proclaim about the proud samurai of ancient Japan, orating like an opera performer to be heard above the racket of the laughter, she had joined the rest of the group in the wonderful outburst.
I said I had a good reason for bringing back Mr. Screaming Man! And yes, Rai-dei's been wearing his samurai robes the whole time. I figured that they'd be rather unusual to most Gunsmoke natives, though once again something developed that was far and beyond what I had initially planned. Just go with the flow, I say.
Legato: This is most unacceptable. There were to be no members of the Gung-ho Guns left alive.
Bite me, blue boy. I'm omnipotent in the author notes.
coffeetin: Meryl just got loaded on the java juice, so the Wrath has not befallen anyone. Yet.
betsytheripper: ¤wipes drool up, then tosses the tissue at Legato¤ Heh, well, since this is still synchronous time with the events in Vash's chapters, he managed to miss it. Mostly. You can find the brief bit he managed to get during the sequence with Knives and Milly at the Warrens City inn. Don't worry, Inepril's all abuzz with Meryl's capture by the law.
MidgetMinion: You mentioned regular updates, and LOOK what happens! I get called in for overtime at work! We must be very quiet about such things, lest the excessively bored gods hear...
cjflutterbye: IRS's Rules to Live By, #46: Never waste a good cake. I'm just waiting for the right moment to use it.
Sorian: If that chapter's scary, then RUN. Run for the hills, and don't look back!
kitsune: ¤takes on the voice of an Utwig¤ ...you're not gonna like me later on. I just know it. Therefore, I can't act on any marriage proposals until the whole thing is done. Consider it an extended engagement.
SapphireWhiteTigress: Yep, they missed one. Sure did indeed, they really missed one! Eh heh heh...
Yma: As you may have guessed, Rai-dei has just been promoted from 'one-episode Gung-ho Gun' to 'hanger-on for the interminable time period'. Hmm... Vash = Lupin, Knives = Jagan, Meryl = Fujiko, Rai-dei = Goeman? Nah... Still funny in any case.
Foreboding brought to you by the same guy that picked out Legato's theme music.