Paradise Lost, a trigun fanfic

Paradise Lost

No one lives forever
Been burnt in the hell
By all those pigs out there
It's always been hell
From when I was born

- Red Fraction by MELL

Prologue

Warnings: character death

The dimly lit room was filled with the soft hum of machinery, the gentle glow of monitors casting an eerie light on the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of incense, a stark contrast to the cold, clinical feel of the technology surrounding Mother Superior Eden. She sat at her antique wooden desk, cluttered with detailed maps of No Man's Land, her stern face illuminated by the screens before her. Her sharp scanned the data streaming across the monitors periodically. Each line represented the vital signs of her daughters, the ones she had trained, molded, and sent out into the world to execute her will.

Suddenly, an alarm blared, breaking the tranquil silence. Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes snapping to the monitor flashing red. One of the vital signs had flat lined. Panic surged through her as she read the identifier-one of her greatest assets, one of her most capable daughters, was no longer alive.

"No…," she whispered, her voice trembling. She pressed a button, replaying the data leading up to the fatal moment. She watched as the vitals spiked with adrenaline, the heart rate soaring before plummeting to nothingness. Her breathing quickened as grief and fury bubbled inside her.

She clutched the edge of the desk, knuckles white. "How could this happen?" She demanded of the empty room, her voice echoing off the cold stone walls. "She was supposed to eliminate the competition."

Tears of rage and sorrow welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, fighting to show weakness even in solitude. She stood, pacing the small room, her mind racing. She paused by the stained-glass window, the sunset's light casting powerful patterns on her habit.

Who did this? She thought, her mind consumed by the need for answers, for vengeance. Who could have overpowered her?

She stopped her pacing, staring at the monitor, the red light still blinking accusingly. Whoever it was, she never thought they would become a direct obstacle, much less take down one of her own. The grief was a crushing weight on her chest, her breaths coming in ragged gaps. She sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands for a moment, allowing herself a rare moment vulnerability just this once. Her sobs echoed softly, mixing with the hum of the machinery.

"Mark my words," she vowed, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "Someone will pay for this. I will make sure of it."

She pressed a button on the intercom, her voice cold and commanding. "Gather my daughters."

As she awaited the arrival of her remaining daughters, Eden sat back down, staring at the lifeless data on the screen. The loss was a heavy blow. She could not let this go unanswered. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked and hidden in the solitude of the room. She continued to allow herself to mourn, the sobs wracking her body in waves, just until her daughters would join her.

"Rest in peace, my daughter," she murmured softly, her voice breaking just slightly. "Your death will not be in vain. I will see to it that your killer suffers a thousandfold."

The door opened, and her remaining three daughters entered, their faces grim and determined. Eden straightened in her chair, her resolve hardening into something unbreakable. She would lead them, guide them, and together they would bring down whoever had killed one of their own.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself for the difficult news she was to deliver. "You three are gathered here for a reason," she began, her voice heavy with sorrow. Jezebel is dead."

The room fell into stunned silence. The eldest, Lilith, remained stoic, her eyes hardening as she absorbed the news. She kept her composure, her posture straight and unyielding, though a flicker of pain crossed her eyes.

Delilah's reaction was immediate and visceral; she was now the youngest after all. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and tears welling up. "No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no." She struggled to hold back her tears, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

Eve, in stark contrast, let out an exasperated sigh, her expression one of indifference. She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "She knew the risks," she said dismissively, a callous edge to her voice.

Eden's eyes flashed over to Eve at her response, but she quickly regained her composure. "We will find her killer. We will make whoever did this pay," she said, her voice icy. "But first, we must ensure you three are ready."

Her eyes flickered with a darker intent as she looked to her remaining daughters. "Before we move forward," she said, her voice low, "you three must recondition."

The room fell silent as her daughters exchanged glances amongst themselves, understanding the gravity of their mother's words. Reconditioning was a brutal, invasive process-a method used to reinforce their loyalty, sharpen their skills, and eradicate any weakness. It was a painful necessity, especially now, in the wake of their sister's death.

Eden continued, her gaze unwavering. "We cannot afford any mistakes. We must be at our strongest, our most focused. Whoever did this to your sister will not expect the fury that we will unleash. But to ensure our success, we must be prepared in every way possible."

The three said nothing, but their silence was the only answer Eden expected. Her lips curled into a cold, ruthless smile. "Good."

The war had just begun.

Earlier...

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows across the arid desert landscape. The wind whipped up grains of sand, stinging any exposed skin like tiny, vicious needles. A lone figure stumbled across the barren expanse, her habit tattered and stained crimson. She clutched her side, the blood seeping through her fingers, each step more labored than the last. The relentless sun bore down, but it was the fear of what followed that drove her forward.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes wild with a fear and frustration. A silhouette, dark and imposing, pursued her with a predator's patience. He wore a black suit with a dark grey dress shirt with several buttons unbuttoned, his black hair windswept. A cigarette dangled from his lips and eyes hidden by sunglasses. In his hands, he wielded a weapon so infamous, it was synonymous with his name. She knew that figure-his reputation preceded him.

The Punisher.

A shiver ran down her spine, more chilling than the incoming desert night ever could be.

The ground shifted beneath her feet as she neared the edge of a steep sand dune. Desperation fueled her, but her strength waned. She lost her footing, tumbling down the dune, a rag doll in the merciless grasp of gravity. She came to a halt at the base, sand clinging to her sweat-drenched skin as she gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of her lungs.

Still breathing heavily, she tried to push herself up, but her limps betrayed her. She could hear his footsteps crunching in the sand, deliberate and unhurried. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to look up as he approached, a grim smile playing on his lips.

This can't be happening, she thought, rage bubbling beneath her exhaustion.

High above her, at the crest of the dune, the man paused. He took a final drag of his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke into the eventide. He flicked the butt away, and shifted the massive Punisher Cross behind his shoulder, carrying it with ease despite it appearing menacingly heavy. Then, with a swift, practiced motion, he shifted his weight and began sliding down the dune, the sand shifting easily under his shoes. The descent was swift, his balance impeccable despite the uneven terrain.

The wind roared in his ears, grains of sand whipping against his face. But his eyes, remained locked on the fallen figure below. Within moments, he reached the bottom, coming to a stop just a few feet way from her. He reached inside his suit, and the young woman held her breath, her heart still pounding furiously against her chest. When she saw that he simply reached for another cigarette, she bit the inside of her cheek, humiliated at her moment of weakness.

"You think this is the end?" She rasped, her voice a fragile whisper against the wind. "They will come for you. They will finish what I started."

The man smirk widened. "I look forward to it," he replied, his voice dripping with mockery. "I enjoy a challenge." He took another long whiff from his cigarette.

She spat blood onto the sand, defiance blazing in her eyes. Her mind raced, grasping at anything to hurl at him. "You're nothing but a tool, a puppet. When they find you, they'll make sure you suffer."

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Is that so? Because from where I'm standing, you're the one bleeding out in the dirt. Your arrogance won't save you now and frankly, it's embarrassing."

With a surge of desperate energy, she pulled out a gun strapped to her outer thigh and fired several bullets, drawing blood. The figure barely flinched as he reached inside his suit once again. She saw that in his hand, was a vial containing some sort of liquid. She pulled the trigger, aiming to stop him from whatever he was prepared to do, but to her horror, all she heard were empty clicks. He broke the vial, quickly ingesting the liquid within. Smoke rose from the entrances as his wounds began to close almost immediately, the serum's effect nearly instantaneous.

No…this can't be happening, she thought, panic creeping into her mind. He should be down. Why isn't he down?

"Nice try," the man taunted, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But you're not the first to underestimate me, and you won't be the last."

Her hand trembled as she threw away her gun and reached for a hidden blade in her sleeve, but he was faster, his shoes pinning her wrist to the ground. "Your kind never learns," he continued, voice dripping with contempt. "Always thinking you can outsmart me. But here you are, alone and dying."

"Better to die on my feet than live on my knees," she hissed, her voice growing weaker.

He crouched down, grabbing her by the collar. "Noble words for someone about to die. Now tell me, who are they? Who do you think will avenge you?"

She glared at him, hatred burning in her eyes. "They'll hunt you down, and when they do, you'll beg for the mercy you never showed."

With a swift, fluid motion, he threw her back down and he drew his weapon aimed directly at his target. With a simple click, the barrage of bullets following that was almost a mercy, a sharp punctuation to her pain. Her body fell limp against the sand, life extinguished in an instant.

He stood over her, the desert silence once more. He hoisted his Punisher Cross behind him, casting one last glance at the lifeless form. Her blood now straining the sand around her.

As he ascended the dune, he found a spot to sit, the twilight horizon painted with the ethereal green glow of the worms flying in the sky. The sun, further descending, cast a serene, melancholic light over the wasteland. He enjoyed his cigarette, inhaling deeply and savoring the moment.

"Fickle thing, life," he murmured, exhaling a plume of smoke. "One moment you're here, the next you're gone. But the view…the view stays the same."

He leaned back against the sand dune, the cool grains shifting under his weight. He took another drag, the smoke curling lazily into the twilight air. The green glow of the worms cast an otherworldly light over the desert, making the landscape appear almost dreamlike.

He looked down at the lifeless form at the base of the dune, her tattered clothes billowing in the breeze. "You really thought you could take me down, didn't you?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly.

As he sat there, his mind drifted back to their encounter. She had been confident, almost arrogant, in her belief that she could eliminate him. Her initial attack had been swift and calculated, her bullets whizzing through the air with deadly precision. But he had faced worse. The serum had healed his wounds, her advantage dissipating in an instant.

"Who sent you?" He muttered. He remembered the smirk she had, her silence infuriating him. Think you're clever, don't you?"

Her final words echoed in his mind. "They'll hunt you down, and when they do, you'll beg for the mercy you never showed." He exhaled another plume of smoke, the green glow reflecting off his sunglasses.

"Who are they?" he wondered aloud. "And why do they want me dead?"

He had dealt with enemies before, but something about her confidence, her absolute certainty, unsettled him. Whoever "they" were, they were coming.

Despite the threats, despite the uncertainty, he found a strange sense of peace in the moment. The desert was a harsh mistress, but it had its moments of beauty. Flicking the ashes from his cigarette, he returned his gaze to the sight above him.

The worms illuminated the sky, their light casting dancing shadows across the dunes. The desert, though desolate, held a kind of mystical allure under the twilight. The vastness of the landscape stretched out endlessly, a sea of sand meeting the horizon in a gentle curve. The stars began to emerge, pinpricks of light in the deepening sky, adding to the surreal quality of the scene.

He finished his cigarette, grinding the butt into the sand beside him as he pulled another from his carton and lit it up. He made a mental note to stop by a supply station to replenish his dwindling count.

Rising to his feet, he slung the Punisher back across his back, its weight a familiar comfort. As he started walking, he took one last look at the sight above him, the glow of the worms illuminating his path.

"Let them come," he said to the wind.

The desert swallowed his footsteps, the vast expanse stretching out before him. This wasn't over. This was just one battle out of the many he was expecting to fight, but for now, he would savor the fleeting tranquility, the calm before the inevitable storm.

As he walked, his thoughts wandered to the past battles he fought, each one leaving its mark on him. The faces of those he had defeated blurred together, but the pain and struggle remained vivid. This new threat, this unknown enemy, stirred a rare sense of anticipation within him. He welcomed the challenge.

The night deepened with the temperature dropping sharply. The desert, once scorching under the sun, now felt almost cold. He pulled his blazer tighter around himself, the fabric shielding him from the chill. He paused to take the last sip of his water, the liquid cool and refreshing against his parched throat.

The green glow of the worms provided just enough light to navigate by, casting an eerie, dreamlike quality over the landscape. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind. It was a silence that he had come to appreciate, a stark contrast to the chaos of battle.

He continued his trek, the sand shifting beneath his feet with each step. The stars overhead seemed to pulse with a distant, ancient light. He felt a strange connection to this desolate place, a kinship with its enduring resilience.

As the hours passed, the sky transitioned to the deep blue of night. The worm's glow began to fade, their bio-luminescence waning with the cooling air. He knew he needed to find shelter soon, a place to rest and regroup. He scanned the horizon, his keen eyes searching for any sign of refuge.

In the distance, he spotted the silhouette of an abandoned structure, a relic from a time long past. He made his way towards it, the outline growing clearer with each step. It appeared to be an old way station, a haven for travelers who once crossed this unforgiving terrain.

He approached cautiously, his senses on high alert for any signs of danger. The way station was in ruins, its walls crumbling, and its roof partially collapsed. Still, it offered from protection from the elements, a brief respite from the desert's harsh embrace.

As he leaned back against the rough wall, he allowed himself a moment of reprise. He closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. The desert's cold seeped into his bones, but he welcomed it, a reminder that he was still alive. As sleep tried claim him, his mind lingered on the same questions that had haunted him since the encounter, but there was no use in answering them now. In due time, it would come to him. For now, it was time to rest.

Or so he thought.

In the quiet darkness, sleep somehow managed to elude him, the weight of uncertainty pressing too heavily on his mind. With a sigh, he sat up, reaching into his blazer for the carton of his favorite Skull cigarettes. With a whimsical flick of his wrist and catching the lighter in an amusing manner, the familiar sound of the flick echoed softly in the night as he ignited the end, the small flame briefly illuminating his face.

He took a deep drag, the smoke curling lazily around him, and he leaned back against the crumbling wall. The darkness of the way station provided a strange comfort, a refuge from the relentless sun and the memories of bloodshed. Each inhale brought a measure of calm, the nicotine soothing his frayed nerves.

In the stillness, he found a moment of solace. The shadows around him seemed less threatening, the vast desert outside less daunting. As he watched the ember glow at the tip of his cigarette, he allowed himself to enjoy this rare moment of peace. His eyelids grew heavy and he fought back a yawn. Extinguishing his cigarette next to him, he leaned back against the stone wall. The next day was uncertain, but for now, he had this small respite.

And in the darkness, with only the quiet whispers of the wind for company, Nicholas D. Wolfwood relinquished himself to the dark embrace of sleep.

Author's Note: I blame TikTok entirely for that edit of Wolfwood gracing my FYP. God damn it hahaha.

Welcome! This is Paradise Lost, a fic of my creation for Trigun Stampede. If you haven't noticed with certain names or even the title of this fic, there will be biblical references scattered throughout. This fic follows my OC, Lilith, as she wrestles between her morals. She is eventually paired up with our favorite undertaker, but Wolfwood won't make an appearance for a couple chapters. Instead, Lilith will first come across Vash, Meryl, and Roberto, so stay tuned to when she will meet her sister's killer. Definitely enemies to lovers vibes between these two given that they are on opposing sides :o

The rating will change from T to M in the upcoming chapters, maybe even sooner! Certain topics will be explored and Lilith's backstory might be triggering to some. In fact, all of her sisters backstories will be triggering but I will indicate warnings as I did in the beginning.

Thank you very much for reading or even clicking on this story! Feel free to leave some love! It's not necessary but very appreciated!