DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
DISCLAIMER: "Doctor Who" and its characters are not mine.
Summer Day
It was a hot summer day, the saying of which was redundant on the planet Gunsmoke. All you had to do was say "summer" and people nodded knowingly. Even mornings this time of year became hot with the appearance of the suns.
The heat was why it was common for houses to have awnings, commonly known as "sombrillas" in this part of Gunsmoke, over their front decks.
So it was on this summer day with its oppressive heat that laid on everything like a heavy weight, that two men found it preferable to stay under the shade of a sombrilla. They were doing their best to doze in folding chairs, wide-brimmed hats tilted low, their regular tops traded for loose-fitting ones of breathable material.
A strange sound came from out in the open sunlight. A tall blue box shimmered into being.
Without otherwise moving, the gun hand of one of the men moved to rest lightly on his weapon. "Spikey…"
"Easy, Wolfwood," Vash the Stampede replied, only his mouth moving. "Just let it happen."
The door on the box opened. A man emerged from it, wearing blue trousers and a brown tweed jacket that covered a suspendered shirt and red bow tie. Following him came a pretty young woman with red hair and clothes to match.
"Good day, gentlemen," the man called. "Might we trouble you for the place and date?"
Vash tipped his hat up. "Date?"
Wolfwood's hat went up as well. "I'll take it, spikey. What's it to you, bow tie?" he called to the newcomers.
"There's no need for the derisive tone," the man from the blue box answered. "Bow ties are cool."
"Doctor…" His red-haired companion nudged him.
"Quite right, Amy." He turned his attention back to Vash and Wolfwood. "We're merely a pair of travelers who might like to sample some local culture. Please, the place and date?"
"If you don't know, then you're really not from around here. You're on the planet Gunsmoke, summer of – spikey, what year is it?"
"One-thirty-five," Vash said.
"It's later than that," Wolfwood corrected. "One-eighty?"
"Not that late. Maybe –"
They continued their lazy guessing game while the man referred to as Doctor returned inside the blue box and came out again a few moments later.
"We'd best be leaving, Amy," he instructed his companion. "I've corrected our position and re-checked, and in twelve hours life on this planet is going to get very…interesting."
His companion grew concerned. "Doctor, shouldn't we –"
"Fixed event, can't change anything. Gentlemen, I wish you luck in the coming trials."
He hustled his companion back in the blue box, which then shimmered back out of being.
"What do you suppose that was about?" Wolfwood wondered.
"No clue. But he said it can't be changed, no use worrying about it." Vash put his hat back down and returned to dozing.
After a moment's consideration, Wolfwood shrugged and did the same.
Shortly thereafter, Meryl Stryfe and Milly Thompson returned from their trip into town. Meryl observed the two men napping.
"They were like that when we left and they're still like that," she groused to her friend. "Nothing interesting ever happens anymore."