AN: BlueSynth, thanks for reading and commenting again! Jimmy has had quite a bit of practice being friends with Clark and realizes guys like him and Vash just want to be treated like everyone else. Gotta give Jimmy some love for always doing his best to lighten the mood and just showing he cares. We are definitely getting sooo close to the reunion!
I might be switching to posting every two weeks starting next chapter. I'm slowly catching up to what I have written so far, so I gotta slow down posting a bit. I'm currently almost finished Chapter 29, so no need to worry!
Chapter 23 - Strong Will, Stir the Heart
Previously, a sandstorm quickly approached Ripmela, forecasting something ominous. Wolfwood goes off on his own, leaving Vash and the others in the aftermath of Legato's appearance. The Sandsteamer Mubra arrives in Ripmela, but Meryl and Clark sense the presence of the ones they are longing for.
Now, a family feud causes mayhem at Ripmela's port. Superman flies to help innocents caught in the crossfire. Vash and Wolfwood converge at the docks, both sensing trouble as well. Although Wolfwood refuses to risk his safety, Vash jumps into the fire without hesitation. Both Meryl and Lois see men cloaked in red who they'd long searched for.
—T&J—
Rending steel and a brief yet powerful quake yanked Clark away from scanning Ripmela's cityscape.
Nearby passengers stumbled and screamed. Meryl, who'd been standing right next to him, flew backward, landing on her backside.
Clark was about to help her up when a child's shrill scream snatched his attention.
The world froze.
Clark turned and saw a young girl, likely eight or nine years old, suspended in midair. The girl hung a dozen or so feet outward and below the port side railing. Her legs and arms stretched out oddly as she flailed. Tears and the fear for her life flash-frozen in her innocent brown eyes.
With time paused, Clark tore off his civilian clothes and hid them away. Instead, he donned the missing pieces of his new Superman uniform. He untucked the hem of his cloak and swept the red cape behind him.
Barely a second lapsed in real-time, but that didn't mean Clark dawdled.
Superman flew over the railing and swept under the child. He positioned his arms just so and let himself transition back to normal speed.
The girl's arms, legs, and flowing black braid moved a fraction in that time. Her eyelids closed mere millimeters in a blink.
He relaxed and followed through with the girl's fall so he didn't hurt her more fragile body with the sudden impact. Another second later, he tucked the crying girl into his enveloping arms.
A woman's frightful scream cut short, turning to gasping sobs instead. The girl's mother, perhaps?
Clark floated up over the railing and dipped back down to land on the balcony deck. "Shh, it's okay. You're safe now," Clark whispered to the child. The little girl peeled her eyes open and loosened her death grip on his vest.
Superman stepped over to the balling woman.
"Aisha! Oh, my baby!" the mother cried, sinking to her knees as Clark bent to let the girl down. The mother scooped her child up into a tight hug, rocking back and forth with teary eyes squeezed shut.
Eventually, the mother rubbed away her tears and opened her eyes. Seeing Superman still there, she stood and took a few steps back.
Clark's soaring heart dropped as he noticed the relief shift to wariness in the woman's eyes. She studied him, breathing and hiccuping the lingering fright away.
The crowd around them gaped and whispered. Some folks were still picking themselves up after falling from the sudden earthquake.
Their hushed voices got swept away by the howling wind. Even without superhearing, Clark guessed what they said.
Superman took a step back in response to her and the other passengers' unease. The woman's expression softened, though, which surprised him. She mumbled a quiet "thank you" and then turned and shuffled past the crowd.
The passengers' shouts on deck died off. However, the heightened screams from the docks below grabbed Clark's attention.
He glanced back to Meryl and Milly as he approached the railing. The taller woman helped her mentor onto her feet. Meryl winced, favoring her one shoulder. The left one was still likely bothering her from the injury back in December.
Both Milly and Meryl glanced around, realizing their other companion was missing. But Superman was present, so 'Clark' couldn't be.
Superman couldn't ignore those people in trouble. He rose into the air to the awed gasps of the passengers, still in disbelief at the sight of a man who could fly.
Again, the world slowed to almost stopping completely. Superman analyzed the frozen scene. He'd learned the hard way not to fly in without a plan of action when possible.
An enormous, armored truck sat wedged halfway into the ripped, metal hull of the sandsteamer.
Several smaller reinforced vehicles rode through the mass of uniformed officers and boarding passengers.
Most of the federal troops attempted to push back the civilians. Another group shot at the approaching trucks. Angry orange bursts of ignited gunpowder spewed from their military-grade rifles.
Innocents caught up in the fiasco screamed and ran. Many had to sprint and jump out of the way of the trucks driving in haphazard patterns. Like that little girl, a few people's bodies hung halfway in midair, arms and legs splayed to brace their fall.
The noisy chorus sounded like a deep, chilling rumble at superspeed.
Clark gulped, eyes flickering from one place to the next and back. Just where could, or should, he help first?
—T&J—
Vash groaned long and loudly as he hauled himself off the sidewalk.
He and the two reporters waited long enough for Wolfwood to sulk back on his own time. But the clouds overhead grew darker every minute, and the wind flung sand into their faces.
Jim and Lois covered their faces with spare shirts wrapped into makeshift scarves. Neither had experienced a No Man's Land sandstorm before, so Vash didn't want them all stuck trying to find shelter at the last minute.
Usually, Vash had his own protective gear for storms. To his dismay, he hadn't stocked up his travel bag that well before leaving Kasted.
Speaking of, he still needed to swing over a few blocks to grab the bag from where he'd dropped it earlier.
"I spotted an inn on my way to the Plant facility over thataway," Vash said over the increasingly noisy wind. He jabbed his thumb in that direction. "Maybe we'll run into Wolfwood on the way."
Vash pouted and mumbled, "Knowing him, he's already got a room and ordered himself a hot meal."
"What about the sandsteamer?" Jim asked.
Vash shook his head. "We missed it. The northbound steamer departed already. Unless you wanna catch one heading back south, we'll have to wait a little longer."
Both Jim and Lois frowned. Lois's frown held a hint of frustration more so the young man's.
"I'm sorry," Vash said, saddened by their expressions.
"Hey, it's not your fault, buddy," Jim said, shrugging his shoulders. He gave a small smile. Lois sighed, squeezing her eyes shut for a beat.
Vash wanted to counter that, yes, it was his fault, but for once held his tongue. It wouldn't make a difference.
The trio only walked a couple of blocks when a screeching kkchonng rattled through the city. Even the ground beneath his boots shook from the shockwave.
"Wh-What was that?!" Jim yelped, latching onto Lois's arm.
At the same time, Lois cried, "What now?!"
Both sentiments summed up Vash's questioning thoughts. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn't good. Vash felt so exhausted. He hummed a pathetic whine.
Yet somehow, he managed to draw a tiny bit of energy from the candies and from having rested for a few minutes. The Stampede took off in a sprint down the streets.
The city-shaking crash came from the northeast, he gauged. Was it from the port?
His Thomas down-filled brain recalled the high-pitched whistle and blaring horn of a steamer earlier. The steamer had pulled up to the docks as their group lazed around. The observation hadn't been important in comparison to all the other events of the day. He'd brushed it aside.
Exactly like how he brushed Jim and Lois aside now, the two calling out his name as he left them in his dust.
—L&P—
Wolfwood lurched at the sudden, echoing sound and accompanying shaky ground. He almost toppled off his stool, where he sat hunched over a heavenly bowl of noodles.
Earlier, as he stomped down the street, he'd spotted the outdoor ramen bar. His stomach grumbled, and the savory smell of toma broth pinched his nose, drawing him in. Despite the city's mass exodus, the owner had stuck around to keep his little shop open. A gray-haired grandma sat at the other end of the bar, flirting with the chef.
Leaning back, Wolfwood peeked out at the street. The cloth panels hanging from the awning flapped in his face from the gusts of wind. He pushed them out of the way with a huff and grimace.
When'd the sky get so damn dark? he thought, glancing skyward at the rolling gray-brown clouds.
Wolfwood could make out distant screaming and bangs of gunfire from the edge of the city. And what the hell's the big commotion?
Of course, there wasn't anyone nearby to ask. Most of the stubborn citizens who refused to leave had hidden away at home. Only a few remaining brave souls went about their business as usual.
But otherwise, the streets were empty. Creeped him out.
Wolfwood slapped a handful of double dollars onto the bartop. When the cook had his back turned, Wolfwood hopped off his stool and snuck away with the bowl of noodles in hand. He'd just been served a minute ago and wasn't gonna let the food go to waste.
Especially since his stomach wouldn't shut up.
Wolfwood grabbed his messily rewrapped Punisher and balanced the piping hot bowl in his other palm. Shit, shit, hot!
At a brisk walk, Wolfwood followed the sounds of distress and turmoil.
My luck, Blondie's already there, stirring up even more trouble. Can't go twenty minutes with my eyes off 'im. No rest for the wicked. Or is it the weary? Hell, it don't matter. Both apply.
Wolfwood made his way over to the commotion (only having spilled a few splashes of broth, whew). He nudged aside folks standing shoulder-to-shoulder, parting the crowd. He uttered half-hearted apologies of "pardon me!", "comin' through!" and "s'cuse me ladies, sorry 'bout that!"
Squeezing through the front row of onlookers, Wolfwood plopped down. An aghast woman yelped and knocked his noggin for barging into her personal space. Meh, she'll live.
He laid Punisher over his crossed legs to use as a table for his noodle bowl. He took another hearty slurp of ramen.
As if watching a projector movie, Wolfwood tried to catch up to the story so far from the current scene.
One of those 'medium-sized' colossal sandsteamers loomed over the docks. A huge, heavy-duty construction machine sat smoking halfway through the steamer's port side. The steamer's thick, metal hull was shredded and jammed into the vehicle like crooked fangs.
Four steel-plated trucks rolled in wide circles. Gun-totting men, with covered faces to hide their identities, leaned out of the windows. The frantic driving and gunshots scattered the grounded ranks of Federales.
Yeesh, who called in the cavalry?
Most of the feds appeared to be corraling nearby steamer passengers away from the chaos. Another squad of feds exchanged gunfire with outlaws—bandits or gangsters or whatever.
"Ohhh, this is bad. Looks like a raid!" he said around a mouth full of noodles.
Several onlookers behind him gasped and pointed up to the steamer's debarkation deck. Wolfwood's gaze followed their pointing fingers.
He immediately spat out a mouthful of broth.
—L&P—
"By order of the Alliance of Seven Cities Federal Militia, lay down your weapons and disembark the sandsteamer! Surrender quietly, or we will use lethal force!" The megaphone-amplified voice boomed over the sea of civilians.
Vash weaved in and out through the crowd, chasing the sound of gunfire. He skidded to a halt in front of the cliffside barrier overlooking the lower docks. The front row of spectators peered downwards.
The sandsteamer rose up like a mountain made of metal before Vash. He mapped out the surrounding area, noting the involved parties and important details.
His breath caught at a sight he wasn't expecting at all. The sight almost didn't compute with his brain, which was running on fumes.
Lois's Superman.
The flying man in the red cape and blue uniform from the videos she'd shared. The outfit was different, but it was instantly recognizable.
The man really could fly (no glowing interdimensionally-created wings at that). Superman flew around so fast even Vash's sharp eyes couldn't quite keep up. Vash gaped as he watched Superman dart through the air, ripping rifles out of hands, and carrying civilians away from the chaos. His speed was incredible. Impossible even.
"Hey! Needle Noggin!"
Vash's thoughts slammed to a halt. He turned towards the familiar voice calling his nickname. The undertaker stood, using Punisher to help himself up. His glasses were still missing, and it was strange seeing him without them.
"Wolfwood?! What are you— What's going on here?" Vash asked in a rush.
Before his friend could reply, a man standing next to him answered.
"It's the damn Fris family! Been fighting over control of the city's Plants and resource distribution for years with the Polos. I heard rumors it was gonna come to a head soon, but this is madness! Last night's theft must've been the final straw."
A round of gunfire between the feds and the raiders rattled off as they spoke. Panicked passengers on the docks screamed and pushed into each other, trying to flee.
The local went on, "The Fris's got aboard the sandsteamer." He nodded to the crashed machine. "They demanded that the Polos relinquish control over the Plant facility over the PA system... And for the head of the Polo family. They've taken hostages, including Slater Polo, his only son."
"This has gotten outta hand! They're dragging innocents into this for no good reason!" Vash cried, sweeping his gaze back over the scene. He took a step forward to jump down to the base of the steamer.
A firm grip on his sleeve held him back. "Wait a sec, ya dolt! Yer in no shape to get involved! You're gonna get a blown fulla holes if you go down there!"
"People are going to get killed!" Vash shouted, tugging his arm away.
"People are gonna die whether you jump in or not!" Wolfwood hissed. His dark eyes narrowed, and a grimace remained. "Yer gonna get yerself killed too!" Again, Vash felt a chill go down his spine at the unhidden expression and words.
"Ya hesitated twice today already. Ya coulda prevented the Plant from gettin' damaged if you acted sooner. And ya almost got them kids slaughtered by that space freak and the blue-haired freak. Ya just stood there chitchatting while the lunatic twisted me inta a pretzel!" Wolfwood's voice grew louder and louder, the heat of his rage almost tangible.
This time, Wolfwood grabbed Vash by the front of his coat. "Ya can't decide not ta make that choice! Think someone who can't kill a man, can save a man?! Ya know what kinda demons we are. We don't get ta make that choice."
Vash gritted his teeth too. He stood as tall as possible and leaned into Wolfwood's space. "That may be what you think. But they're just words. Right now, people may be dying over there. I can't stand by and do nothing!"
Wolfwood growled—literally growled like his namesake. He pushed Vash away and ran his free hand through his black hair.
Vash turned and took a few steps towards the ledge. "Wish me luck, Wolfy!"
"Argghh, don't expect me ta prepare yer corpse for yer funeral, ya disaster-prone idiot!" Wolfwood shouted.
Vash froze midstep. He glanced over his shoulder, an exasperated pout on his face. With one last glare and a huff at Wolfwood, Vash unholstered his revolver and hopped over the barrier. He fell at least three stories before landing as nimbly as a cat.
He raised his revolver towards the sky and took a deep breath. He pulled the trigger. A booming gunshot broke through the already chaotic atmosphere.
"MY NAME IS VASH THE STAMPEEEEEDEEEE! I see you have all gathered for my daily massacre!"
Evacuating passengers and even nearby soldiers ducked and sprinted away from Vash. Most of the passengers were already moved away from the firefight, but exiting in an orderly fashion was too much to ask for. The constant screaming grated on Vash's tired mind, but he did his best to ignore it.
Vash pushed forward, shooting into the air again and again to clear a path. He kept a keen eye on the feds, the passengers, and the Fris's accomplices in their vehicles. Vash weaved in and out of their line of sight and dodged out of the way of stray bullets.
He spared a moment to glance up, noticing the red, blue, and yellow blur zooming around the area. For a moment, the flying man slowed to a stationary hover in the air. His red cloak whipped around wildly in the typhoon-strength winds.
The two caught each other's eyes. So much for a good first impression, Vash thought.
Vash gave a brief grin and a wave. The man's hat obscured his expression, but he tilted his head as if confused. Superman shifted to gaze up at the debarkation deck.
Vash followed his gaze, but all he saw were dozens of unfamiliar faces of passengers leaning over the railing to watch the scene below. He didn't have time to guess what might've caught the flying man's attention.
Making his way to the base of the sandsteamer, Vash squeezed his way inside through its ripped open hull. If the Fris's took over the PA system, they'd likely hunkered down in the command bridge.
Okay. That's not ideal. One way in, one way out.
He'd already knocked out the first sentry on the way. There'd likely be a few more guards between here and the bridge, too.
Two men ready and waiting spotted Vash as he rounded a corner. They shot immediately on sight. Vash leaped back and barely missed taking a bullet to the chest. Their semi-automatics carved holes into the wall, turning it into metallic Swiss cheese.
He mentally counted their spent rounds, waiting for them to cease fire. Vash ripped off a loose metal panel on the wall, the sound covered up by the steady ting-ting-ting of bullets. Once it stopped, Vash tossed the panel around the corner. Another hail of bullets clanged against the far wall.
Vash waited until the last bullet in their magazines clanked off the wall. He lunged forward, taking the men off guard while reloading their weapons. With two sharp whacks from the broad barrel of his gun, the pair dropped with a thud, knocked out cold.
If Vash wasn't mistaken, the bridge would be just ahead. With more caution, he crept down the remained length of the hall.
He heard footsteps approaching this time. Maybe another guard heard the commotion and came to investigate. Just his luck, Vash spotted a recess along the wall and pressed himself into the narrow space out of sight.
Vash held his breath, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. The footsteps got louder and louder until the man took a step past his hiding spot.
Although the man spotted Vash—hard to miss the vibrant red duster—the Humanoid Typhoon swept behind him in the blink of an eye. Vash wrapped his arm around the man's throat in a choke hold. After a brief bout of struggling, the man fell unconscious.
Vash eased the man onto the cool, metal floor. "Rest here awhile, friend. No need to get yourself in more trouble."
Rounding one last corner, Vash spotted his destination. At the end of the hall stood the sealed door leading into the command bridge. The wide, reinforced blast door would've been an automatic sliding panel at one point. However, with all the retrofitting over the years, most of the ship's original features failed to work properly.
How many hijackers are on the other side? How many hostages did they take?
Vash darted to the door and pressed an ear against the wall. He strained his hearing, but the voices on the other side were muffled. And despite all of Vash's unique abilities, he couldn't see through a steel door.
Only one way to find out.
Opening up the panel covering a hidden wall terminal, Vash tapped the screen. He sighed in relief as the screen lit up. Tapping a few more times, he brought up the command prompt with admin credentials. Vash typed in the command needed to override the security lock from the outside.
The lock unlatched with a series of clicks, and the sliding doors gave a weak pneumatic hiss but failed to open all the way. But it was enough for the hijackers on the other side to take notice.
Vash grabbed the side of one of the door panels and pried it open. Of course, as he did so, a rain of ammo pounded on the doors. Plenty flew through the now partially opened doorway.
Vash ripped his hand back.
Again, he used the gunfire to count how many men were waiting behind the blast doors. He still needed to know how many hostages there were. And a quick look inside to map the room would be dandy.
It surprised him when he heard a gruff voice call out. "Hold yer fire!"
As soon as the gunfire ceased, Vash jumped past the doorframe. He used that mere second to peek into the room.
"Oh, shit! It's r-really him. It's V-Vash the S-Stampede!" Another voice cried. Those inside must've got a glimpse at his flashy red coat. They knew immediately who they were dealing with.
Vash heard footsteps of at least three men stumbling away from the doorframe. An almost unnoticeable click sounded, and the static hiss of the PA system came to life.
"W-Why the hell would Vash the Stampede b-be here?"
"This is a nightmare! We're not gonna make it out alive!"
"Boss? Whadda we do?"
Vash closed his eyes as he envisioned the layout of the room he'd briefly examined. Four hostages and six hijackers. He could map where each hijacker stood by the sounds and angles of their shots now if they moved around.
Plus, the Humanoid Typhoon could also use their nervousness to his advantage.
Vash's sleep-deprived brain sparked with inspiration. His lips quirked in wry amusement at the idea.
He began to hum a melody, soon adding in a few vocables, "la di~da di~ la di~ da di." His song took form, growing loud enough it carried over the steamers' speakers, echoing down the empty halls.
"Totalll slaughterrr~ totalll slaughterrr~ I won't leave a single man alive~ la di~da di dieeee~ Genooocide~ la di~da di duddd~ An ocean of blooddd~ Let's begiiin, the killing tiiime~"
—L&P—
After losing sight of Vash and getting lost among the twists and turns of Ripmela, Lois and Jimmy finally found their way to the docks.
Lois struggled to get through the massive crowd on the upper platform. So Jimmy stepped ahead of her, and she used her taller friend as a battering ram.
As they pushed forward, a crackling static filled the already noisy air.
"W-Why the hell would Vash the Stampede be here?"
"This is a nightmare. We're not gonna make it out alive!"
An eerie calm washed over the crowd. Then the hushed panic resumed.
"Was it really him?"
"The Fris's are gonna get wiped out!"
"We shoulda left town earlier. Let's get outta here."
Many in the crowd agreed. They stalked off to their homes or wherever they might've thought was safe.
The PA system was only silent for a moment, though.
A few nonsense vocals echoed through the speakers. The singing came next. The gruesome lyrics caused goosebumps to form all down Lois's arms. Even recognizing Vash's voice didn't make a difference.
"... An ocean of blooddd~ Let's begiiin, the killing tiiime~"
With folks leaving to find shelter—whether from the Humanoid Typhoon or the impending sandstorm—the crowd started to thin out. Lois and Jimmy found space along the platform's barrier from where they could get a good view.
She immediately glimpsed something she wasn't expecting. All curiosity and concern for Vash's absurd antics dissipated.
She gasped and grabbed Jimmy's hand in a white-knuckled vice grip. Jimmy also let out a high-pitched squeak. He began to chuckle—that kind of chuckle of utter disbelief.
There, down by the foot of the sandsteamer waved a banner of stark, primary red. A red cape tossed over the broad shoulders of a figure suspended in midair.
Lois choked back a sob and tearily cried out a whispered, "Clark!"
—T&J—
As soon as she saw him, Meryl's legs moved before she could think.
Minutes ago, she and Milly had been witnessing the chaotic raid when a swath of red grabbed her attention. Her breath caught for an instant. But she soon realized it was Red Cloaked Man. Or rather 'Superman.' And not surprisingly, reporter 'Clark Kent' had vanished without a trace.
Superman's appearance awed the passengers. The hero saved that little girl from what would've otherwise been a fatal fall. He didn't stop there either. Superman soared through the sand-swept gusty sky to help put an end to the madness below.
As Meryl watched in similar awe, her breath caught yet again. Another flash of red in the distance caught her eye—and the eyes a hundred others.
It couldn't be?!
But as soon as the man in red yelled at the top of his lungs announcing himself, Meryl knew. She knew without a shadow of a doubt after two long years of searching and hoping.
Meryl remained transfixed until she realized where he was stampeding towards. He was beelining for the opening made by the vehicle wedged into the steamer.
As soon as she guessed what was going through that stupid, spikey, beautiful blond head of his, she bolted.
And so, Meryl found herself darting through the empty corridors of the steamer on a mission. And unlike back in December, she pulled out two loaded derringers from her white cloak. No hesitation.
Milly stayed hot on her heels this time. The newbie learned quickly. She'd have to keep up with her mentor when Mad Meryl took off without warning. Newbie thought just as quickly, too. She brought along her new, yet unused-in-the-field stun gun.
No, these women weren't Mad Meryl and the Newbie. If anyone got in their way, they'd be facing Derringer Meryl and Stun-Gun Milly.
And Meryl didn't know whether to laugh or cry or give everyone a piece of her mind, but as long as she could prove to herself he was real and alive, she didn't care.
She would never let Vash the Stampede run away again.
—L&P—
AN:
Starting next chapter, I might be switching to posting every two weeks. I'm slowly catching up to what I have written so far, so I gotta slow down posting a bit. I'm currently almost finished Chapter 29, so no need to worry!
Thanks as always for following along! Please review to let me know how you're enjoying the fic, what you liked, or what you'd like to see in future chapters! I appreciate every favorite and follow too!
Next Chapter 24: Heart That Feels Sin
While Clark helps the federal soldiers outside the steamer, Vash makes his way to the command bridge where he desperately tries to stop a man eager for revenge. Meryl and Milly traverse the steamer, intent on finding Vash before he vanishes once again.
—
Feel free to follow me at crimson-amarone on Tumblr or at crimsonamarone on X. Always excited to connect with other fans!
MAWS fans (18+), there's a new Discord server Char made! I'll be streaming season 2 episodes on Saturdays at midnight EST as they air live, so if there for anyone who wants to watch, join us there! Server name: My Adventures with Discord (PM for invite if needed!)
Also, an open invite to a few Discord servers I frequent: Trigun (18+) MusEq Meg's Trigun Hole My Adventures With Superman Fanfiction Social Connect