A/N: Talk about last minute. I've been lazing around all summer and I waited until the final 6 hours to write my Knives' Day fic. It probably sucks major (Chianti and Margaritas don't mix with laptops) so please bear with me.
Disclaimer: Trigun doesn't belong to me. Gunsmoke doesn't belong to me. Millions Knives doesn't belong to me…unfortunately.
Please enjoy this SiNfuL story and have a Happy Knives' Day!
"I looked along the two rays of light, and I saw down into his inmost heart. It was black as night, and on it were written, in the red flaming letters which are the handwriting of the fallen angel, 'Without pity and without remorse. He has strewn with misery the paths of others…'"
"The Woman in White" by: Wilkie Collins
The angel, Lucifer, was loved by God and was the most powerful and beautiful of his creations. However, Lucifer was not content being second. He grew prideful. He thought himself mightier than God. With other angels, Lucifer rose up against the Heavenly Father. A horrendous battle that shook the foundation of Heaven, Lucifer came close enough to touch the leg of God's throne, before he was beaten and banished from God's Kingdom. Lucifer, along with the angels who had rebelled, were expelled to the lowest pits of Hell, where they would rule for all eternity. Lucifer's pride was his downfall.
Millions Knives preferred not to mingle with the lowly vermin. He was superior to them…and he knew it. Sitting in this bar, surrounded by lushes and prostitutes, the regulars who visited this tavern, was like being trapped in a building that was filling with cockroaches.
The bar itself was decrepit and smelled of an awful mixture of vomit, sweat, sex, and alcohol. The wooden walls seemed to be collapsing on themselves with mold that slowly crept up its structure like the tendrils of a beast. Such was the monster of sin and it had corrupted and claimed everyone here as its victims.
Several crates were being used to keep the tables off the floor and many of the chairs were broken or missing. Mud and spilt fluids (of all sorts, the Plant imagined) littered the already grimy wooden floors.
The blond man had to do everything to keep from losing his stomach.
A thin, young waitress came by with a pitcher of beer and a mug. "Can I get you somethin', sir?" She smiled warmly.
"You can leave me alone, woman." The man's icy penetrating eyes never left the window. "If I am asked one more time, I will cut out that spider's tongue. Understood?"
Such was not the answer she was expecting. She had seen and met many men here at the bar, but never had one been so intimidating. Fear welled up in her chest.
The waitress' head bobbed up and down quickly, brown curls waggling. His threatening cold voice had to tell her but once, before she turned on her heel to leave.
Knives folded his hands on his lap, being careful not to touch anything excessively. This was the only table he would be seated at in the entire saloon. It was the only table that had the view he wanted. It was the only table that looked out across the dirt road into the building that faced the tavern off.
Every night from six to nine in the evening, he would sit here, waiting…watching.
Millennia ago, God had created Eden. He sent the Archangels and the Grigori to help perfect His paradise. When the Grigori saw the humans they were overcome with lust. They revealed the secrets of Heaven to the men, while they fell in love with the women. Together with these women, they produced offspring: the Nephilim. God became angry with the Grigori. He threw the Grigori from Heaven, making them mortal. The Nephilim, too, were punished. For the "sons of God" were not intended to marry the "daughters of man".
Knives watched the pair closely as they moved across the kitchen. Through the smudged windowpane of the saloon, the Plant got a rather obscure view into the home of the newlyweds. Knives observed the husband bustling about, pulling out chairs for his wife, whose belly was already bulging, and cooking her supper that, more often than not, was burnt and smoking.
The husband set a plate of what looked like lumps of charcoal in front of the young woman, a dorky grin spread across his youthful face.
The wife tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her ear, looking unsurely at the dinner set before her. Her violet eyes looked up to the man beside her. Her mouth moved, articulating words to him.
He replied happily and then gave her rotund tummy at a pat.
The woman's face turned to a crimson look of horror. Grasping her belly, she smacked her husband on the back of his head with her free hand. He gave her a hurt look, rubbing the back of his blond head of hair, before picking up the fork and attempting to feed her the "poisoned" supper.
Knives watched the scene play out intently. He would never have imagined the events turning out as they did. Things had happened so differently than what he imagined. What happened to their Eden?
Knives turned his face away. He was disgusted. Pushing himself up from the chair he sat at, the Plant made his way for the exit. A brawl between four or five men was going on in the far corner of the bar, most of the patrons had gathered around to watch the fight, betting money on the strongest and most able.
The brunette waitress was busy setting full mugs of beer down on the empty tables; taking full advantage of the situation by not having her rear slapped by every half-drunk man. Her hands moved quickly and deftly, stopped only when the long, pale hands of the Plant stopped her.
Her mouth gaped open in surprise and panic. Every cell in her body was urging her to run, to get away from him, but the nightmare had seized her…she couldn't move.
"Mr. and Mrs. Saverem." Knives seethed, picking up one of the full glasses of beer. "Here's to your happily ever after."
He took a long swig of the foul tasting amber liquid. Satisfied with his act of depredation, he dropped the mug, letting it shatter on the floor. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "May you rot in Hell."
He brushed past the waitress, pushing his way through the swinging doors of the tavern. The woman had to clutch her chest to keep her heart from pounding out. She had lived through one of the single most terrifying moments of her life and come out without a scratch. She couldn't believe it was just a coincidence.
The blond Plant stood in the middle of the dusty road that ran through the center of town. Darkness had descended around him, white stars scattered in its black abyss. The heavens seemed aglow with life and renewal, now so far beyond Knives' touch.
When had the angels fallen so far from grace?
A/N: You know, I never thought being forced to read "Paradise Lost" in Brit Lit would actually be helpful. Just in case you forgot, have a wonderful Knives' Day. And play it safe, if you decide to go on a genocidal mass killing spree…don't blame it on us. We played no hand in it!