.You cannot love. part 1
Don't Own Trigun, Wish I did, blah-blah-blah, all named characters so far belong to Mr. Nightow.The first chapter gets the storyline flattened out a bit and gets you into the feel of my writing style before I introduce the rest of my main's...Ok, I hope you like it and please R&R If you can... and If you cant bad luck I still want you to!
Vash frowned to himself, musing over the previous events… That town, it couldn't have been, it wasn't Knives. He was more sure of that than anything at this moment in time, but he wished Millie would stop crying. Even Meryl sat in silence, that was unnerving. Her big blue eyes were staring at the ground full of blank thoughts and nostalgia.
Vashlooked up as the bus stopped.
"Break time" called the bus driver lazily, standing up and stretching. Vash stretched too, the long bus rides bored him, but it was nice to have a break sometimes, he needed a break from everyone trying to kill him all the time.
He stepped off the bus and walked around the side, sitting down in the shade of the bus leaning against it. He looked up at the blue sky, mind swimming with idea's.
Knives wouldn't kill them all one by one. That would take to long, and he would have to touch them, even his associates couldn't do that, every single one in exactly the same fashion with exactly the same wound on the right side of their neck. As if a dog had mauled on them all.
Vash's brow furrowed as he tried to push the images out of his mind. Perhaps he would never know that terror, but for the moment he would gladly like too know what beast or machine was so powerful and bloodthirsty…
Meryl yawned and picked up her bag, three day bus rides were too much she decided and Millie was a little better, she had stopped crying now. Vash walked ahead of them pulling along his cylindrical travel bag. "Hey!" yelled Meryl. "Wait for us!" She said trailing behind the tall red-clad excuse for a humanoid typhoon. She still had trouble sometimes, believing that this … this idiot was 'Vash the Stampede' with $$60,000,000,000 on his head. Wanted dead or alive, the Humanoid Typhoon who laid the entire city of July in ruin.
She sniffed at the thought as she looked up to see where her feet had taken her too.
By the looks of it, it was an average little inn. It didn't take long to check in and carry their bags up into the rooms. Millie opened the door and gasped.
"Whaaaat…" murmured Meryl thoroughly tired. When she reached the room she looked around Millie and dropped the bags in the hall. The room was trashed and very unpleasant looking. The window showed right across into a beautiful… brick wall.
Meryl reached down in a huff and pulled her bag in past Millie who had already began to drag hers over to a little single bed in the corner.
As Meryl sat on her bed near the window and she wondered what Vash did in his spare time, did he go for walks? or did he merely sit and think?… did he just sleep all the time?. He was a Mystery to her, an ongoing puzzle of mood swings and spontaneous behavior…
Then her thoughts took an unfortunate turn into the back alley of her mind… the memory of the last town… the ugly bodies and bloodstained gutters… She looked up and smiled weakly at Millie, who was writing one of her huge letters to everyone. Millie noticed Meryl watching her and looked up flashing Meryl a bright smile.
Thank you … she thought to herself, she was such a very good girl.
Vash dumped his bag in the corner against the door and sighed closing it behind him. He sat down on the bed looking out the window at nothing in particular. He could see nearly everything from his well located room, He could see the tiny town hospital with the big red cross above the door in red, the bar, the local store and plenty of other places, he could even see into most rooms of the inn across the road from his. As he glanced across the window's he noticed something unusual, instead of being able to see into one room on the top left of the building, all he say was … what looked like a mattress pushed up against the window. He frowned, that wasn't a good thing. It was also depressing to think... had the word pass around so quickly that he was here already?
He shrugged of the thought and yawned and flopped on the bed. Sitting down a bus sure could make you tired… His last thoughts before sleep sprawled like a spider into his mind where:
Not knives … then who…?
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