They were twins.

Both men sported the same golden hair, the same sharp green eyes, the
exact same angularity of features, the same solid frames and athletic
builds.

Both were advanced in every way, highly intelligent, physically
superior to any natural homo sapien. 

Both were spawn of the superhuman-production experiments of Project
S.E.E.D.S, a grand undertaking designed to transplant the entirety of
the human race and its civilization into a world that would suit their
needs.

Both had lived through the crash that had ended the ambitious journey
in fire and death.

Both had learned to survive in the harsh new world that the ill-fated
Project had brought them to, had become proficient with all forms of
deadly weapons and martial arts.

Both were over a century old.

One of them had fought for the beauty of life and living as taught to
him by his mentor and foster mother, Rem, had protected the weak from
the ruthless, had become defender of those who were persecuted, had
rediscovered the innate value of humanity and what it stood for, and
had defeated all those who would harm or destroy it.  He had beaten
his brother.

This is the story of the other guy.

**********

The large man behind the counter didn't look much like the type who
would be afraid of anything, much less of just one man.  He was
thickly built, with a veritable tree trunk for a torso, and sported
big, fat arms corded heavily with muscle and tanned skin.  He looked
more to be the type to have smashed a few skulls in the name of
keeping his business as peaceful as possible- something which he had
actually done several times in the past.

He was rough in his mannerism, a little gentler when around the
ladies, but still, a gruff, tough man all the way.

He was, nevertheless, terrified.

"Have you heard?" he asked the patron before him as he wiped a glass
vigorously with his ever-present washcloth.  The routine wiping
functioned to relax him more than anything- the glass was already
squeaky clean and was in need of no more attention.

The bored looking man he had spoken to put his glass down on the
counter after sipping a bit from it.

"No," he said.  "What?"

"The news from the latest caravan's just been spread around," the
bartender confided in him with a grave air.  "I'm gonna tell ya, but
make sure you don't spread it around too quick- it might cause a
panic, y'know?"

"I won't," the man said, calmly taking another sip off his drink.  He
watched the amber liquid in his glass wave and ripple as he idly
swirled his glass about.

The bartender paused for a few seconds in his cleaning.  His eyes were
closed, as if by the sheer weight of the information he was about to
impart.

"Vash the Stampede's been spotted in the area."

The glass' swirling didn't stop.

"Heeeey... Oi hoid tha' too," said a busybody nearby, a bearded man
well on the way to a drunken stupor.  He sidled up to seat himself on
the stool to the right of the man before the counter.  "The... the...
Hyooooouuumanoid Soiclone.  Tha's th' one, roight?"

The bartender nodded.  "Humanoid Typhoon."

"Ayup, Oi knew it, roight Oi was," the old drunk slurred, blowing hot,
alcohol-laden breath across the face of the man beside him.

He didn't seem to mind.

"Uh-huh, he's here alright," the bartender confirmed for both
drinkers.  "And you know what that means.  If we're not lucky, we can
kiss this town goodbye."

"Naw, naw, naw," said the bearded man, shaking his head for emphasis.
"Oi also hoid that he'd... he'd... toined a new leaf over!  Ain't that
roight, friend?"

The bearded man nudged the other man's shoulder for a response.  He
didn't get any.

"Don't you mean he turned over a new leaf'?" said the bartender.

"YEAH! Thash it," said the bearded man, waving his bottle about.  A
few men around turned their heads to his noise.  "Toined over a new
leaf!  That he did!"

"What do you mean, gramps?" someone over to his left asked.

"Vash ain't goan be blowin' no towns up anymoh," the drunk said
matter-of-factly as an answer, swaying unsteadily.  "He'sh... He'sh
shettled down foar good now's roight..."

"You're full of it, gramps!" came a loud, laughing voice from directly
behind him.  A chorus of jeers followed it.  "The next thing you'll be
telling us is that they lifted the reward off that murderer's head!"

"Thoi did, though!" the bearded man yelled back, face flush with
anger.  "Vash oin't worth no sixty billion double dollars no moh!  'S
been near three months now.  He oin't woith a CENT!"

"You are SO full of shit, gramps!"

"You should lay off the drinkin', old man!  You're going senile!"

Dismissing the man's proclamations with grunts and snorts, the rest of
the bar's populace turned to ignore him.

"I think you've had too much of that beer, old man," the bartender
said in a low voice.  "Vash isn't called the Stampede for nothing.
There's no WAY an outlaw like that would just up and become peaceful
in the blink of an eye, isn't that right, friend?"

The other man before him, the man in vivid whites and reds, said
nothing.

"But it'sh true!" the bearded man insisted.  "Moi info comesh from a
very reloible sohs!  If youw would just lishen teh m-"

The bar's swinging doors flew open, the man in between them a picture
of fear and panic.

"VASH THE STAMPEDE'S COMING THIS WAY!"

Bottles fell, glass shattered, chairs toppled over.  All heads turned
to the bringer of the news.

"Are you serious?" the bartender demanded.

The messenger nodded.

"It's him alright... big, had a HUGE weapon, had hair like a
chicken's... he and his whole bunch are headed right this way!"

"Well *I* ain't staying here to meet him!" a man somewhere declared.
He jumped out through the window none too gracefully.

Immediately after, the room was alive with the clamor of bodies using
every available exit, and then dead with the silence of a hastily
evacuated building.

The bartender looked around at his deserted establishment.  He stared
at the bearded man.

"Well, care to see whether you were right about him?"

"HYELL, NO!" the drunk declared, putting his hat onto his head and
spinning about on his stool.  "Oi'm GONE!"

The bartender nodded once and followed the drunk out of the back door.

The man in the padded white and red bodysuit put his glass to his lips
and sipped.

"Damn bartender must've watered this down," he mused.

"YOU IN THERE!  COME OUT AND FACE US!!!"

Outside, a giant of a man stepped up before the bar, surrounded by a
host of gun-toting hoodlums.  He grinned crazily at the door,
brandishing an abnormally large steel boomerang.

"WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, VASH!" he called out.  "BLONDE, TALL, AND
CARRYING A BIG GUN!  COME OUT NOW!"

Neither man nor sound came out of the doors.

"Okay, boys," the giant roared, apparently having expected the
silence.  "If he won't be coming out on his own, we'll have to MAKE
him come out!"

The air rang with the snaps of guns cocked and then made to bear on
the building.

The giant lifted his weapon overhead.  He threw.

The steel projectile sheared off almost half of the building face,
curving in its return flight and then perching once again in the palm
of its owner.

At the signal, the rest opened fire.

Bullets sprayed across the air and tore through the flimsy defense
that the building walls provided.  Mortar crumbled, wood splintered,
and brick flew apart as the bar was summarily obliterated by the rain
of gunfire.  The large metal sign that had been hanging by the front
had fallen down at the onset of the assault, shielding whatever was
behind it.

It toppled over now, revealing only the white and red-clad man sitting
on his stool, laying his whiskey glass on what remained of the
decimated counter.  Around him, nothing else of the bar remained
except for small piles of debris and the pockmarked foundation.

The man finished off his drink.

"Hey, boss," said one of the hoods about the leader.  "This ain't the
guy!"

"Hunh?" the giant grunted and looked down at his lackey.  "Whaddaya
mean?"

"That ain't him, boss," the goon repeated, gesturing towards the
sitting man.  "He looks a little like him, but it ain't him.  Vash's
got a red coat and his hair's kinda like yours.  That ain't him."

Snorting disgustedly, the giant turned towards the lone man sitting
before them.

"YOU THERE!" he bellowed.  "IS YOU VASH THE STAMPEDE!!?"

The man lifted his head slightly and then looked directly at the
giant.  He smiled.

"No."

"Well... you look enough like him," the giant smirked.  He flexed his
throwing arm and hefted his boomerang about.  "In fact, you look
enough like him to fool my scouts.  Did you know that, friend?"

The man said nothing.  He stood up and faced the troop before him.

"It's pretty disappointing to know that you aren't him," the giant
went on.  "I'd been lookin' forward to that $$60,000,000,000 reward.
In fact, this rather upsets me."

He swung his boomerang about experimentally.  The air sang with its
passage.

"So... even if you ain't Vash," he began.  "WE'RE GONNA KILL YAZ
ANYWAY!!!"  He threw.

The boomerang flew harmlessly past the man's side, missing him by
almost an inch.  The wind whistled past him and shook some of the
hairs on his flattop.

From his side, he calmly took out a huge jet black revolver and
pointed it at the group.

The giant cocked an eyebrow.  He promptly died with that expression.

Walking away from the scene of the battle- by which it could be called
only by a large stretch of the imagination- the red and white-suited
man calmly reholstered his gun.  Behind him, none of the giant's men
had gotten a shot off, and none of them were even making an attempt-
they were all too busy bleeding all over the ground, turning the sand
sanguine.

Smoking bullet casings finished clattering onto the floorboards- one
for each man.  The boomerang crashed into the sand, having no more
owner to catch it.

The red and white-suited man whistled.

**********

The Unholy Wastes present...

*Trigun Unleashed*Trigun Unleashed*Trigun Unleashed*Trigun Unleashed*T
                    _____________________________________
                  //____________|__|               ' ' '||
               /:::: /|=====| ==|________.________._____||
                   \ =|=====| |_______________________|_|]
                   / \|_____| //
                   | _______(@)
                  /    /   //
                 /    /===//
                /    /
               /____/
              /====/

Unleashed*Trigun Unleashed*Trigun Unleashed*Trigun Unleashed*Trigun Un

**Trigun Unleashed**

Part One
"Trigun Unleashed: Millions Knives"
by MtB

**********

A dark body stepped into the ramshackle building, almost tearing the
batwing doors off their hinges.  Dust rained down from the decrepit
structure's roof panels at the disturbance, covering those underneath
with a fine layer of dry grime.  Nobody seemed to notice this abuse
and all went about their businesses peacefully.

The stranger's silhouette dominated the portal.

"Who in here is man enough to take me on!?" the newcomer challenged
the interior.

None gave any answer and no one seemed to be giving any hint that they
knew someone was even there.

And then a bad thing happened.  Chai Monday got annoyed.

Several glasses blew apart in quick succession.  Normally, no one
would have given a damn either, but this happened while they were
still being *held* by their respective owners.

Eyes turned and burned holes into the green-clad woman by the door.

"NOW will someone act like a gentleman and answer the lady's
question?" she asked haughtily and held her smoking gun up.  It was
one of those automatic affairs- a Desert Eagle.  Which was a curious
name, because, at the moment, almost nobody in the planet even knew
what an eagle was anymore.

"Someone of our group has wronged you," a cold voice could be heard
from within the shadowy depths of the building's interior.  "And
you're looking for retribution.  Either that, or you're just suicidal,
little girl."

"The former," Chai grinned, propping her wide-brimmed hat higher on
her head with her gun's muzzle in a dramatic gesture.  "... And maybe
even a little of the latter."

In the next instant, another shot rang out from the silver weapon,
aimed at the darkness hiding the voice that had addressed her.

A tall, thin man emerged, his eyes hidden by a pair of dark red-tinted
glasses.  A smoking bullet hole decorated the middle of his tall blue
soldier's cap.

"And I am NOT a little girl," Chai said acidly, weapon still held
outwards, a thin trail of smoke rising up from its barrel.

"I see, of course," said the man, not losing his composure.  He took
off his hat and put a finger through the new hole, looking at it
thoughtfully.  He ran a hand across his hair, checking to see if any
damage had been done.  Satisfied, he put his headwear back on.  "My
apologies.  Now who among us have had the misfortune of crossing your
path, miss?"

At the question, all of the room's occupants stepped out into the dim
light.  The faces revealed belonged to several largish, heavy-set men,
all of whom towered over Chai, even from a distance of a few meters.

"Gee, that's a tough question," Chai mused, pursing her lips.  "You
all look the same to me... Hmmmm..."

"Take your time, miss," the blue-capped man said.  Around him, the men
readied their weapons of choice.  Guns were cocked loudly.  Blades and
cylindrical barrels of various metallic shades glinted in the
near-darkness bordering the faint illumination provided by the blocked
doorway.

"Actually..." Chai started, the beginnings of a smile touching the
corners of her naturally pinkish lips.  "*All* of you have wronged
me."

Fighting words.

The capped man grinned.  Even if all the strange woman's shots hit
their marks, he knew that there were more men in the room than there
were bullets in the Desert Eagle.  Nothing but a crazy broad who, at
best, would take out only two or three guys and then get mercilessly
shot full of holes by the the remainder.

Chai Monday pulled out a second gun.

*****

The men blinked.  All were suddenly minus their respective instruments
of pain and death.  Said instruments all spun uselessly on the
floorboards.

Chai blew some smoke from her gun.  She looked down at the man she was
kneeling over.

"Now..." said Chai, tipping the brim of her hat a little higher so as
to have direct line of sight towards the blue-capped man's eyes.  She
holstered the gun in her right hand.  "I have a few questions for you.
And you're going to answer *all* of them.  Do we have an
understanding?"

The blue-capped man swallowed audibly.  His red-tinted glasses were
gone.  He stared once again at the black depths of the gun barrel
almost nuzzling him on the forehead and then looked into the eyes of
its owner.  "Yes, ma'am."

"Good then," Chai said, closing her eyes in a smile.

There was movement from the fringes of the group surrounding them.
One gunshot later, the man who was about to do something drastic with
a hidden weapon was clutching at a wounded leg, and Chai returned her
attention to her captive.

"First, let's get acquainted," Chai grinned.  "What's your name?"

"P-Paul," the man gnashed, resentment in his eyes.

"Is there any more to it?"

"Walkins."

"Nice to meet you, Paul," Chai said.  "I'm Chai Monday."

"Monday?" the man asked incredulously, eyes widening.  "So *you're*
that *bitch* who's been going around stirrin' up trouble for the boss
and all hi- AAAAGGNHHHH!"

Paul Walkins was now the proud owner of a bloodied, possibly broken,
nose.  Chai wiped her gun butt on his shirt and then smiled
apologetically at him.

"I hate that word," she explained.  "Next question: where IS your boss
anyway?  You don't realize how much trouble I went through just to
find out that THIS particular branch of his syndicate might actually
know where he was.  I hope you make it easier for me to find who I'm
looking for."

Paul smirked.  "Like hell I'll tell you where he- ARRGGGH!"

"You *really* have to watch your mouth when you're talking to a lady,
Paul," Chai lightly reprimanded him as her right elbow left contact
with Paul's chin.  "That kind of language is just plain ungentlemanly
around women."

"Yeah?  Tell me when you see one so's I can- AGH!"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know!  OOWRRRGGH!  SHIT!"

"Now that's just two of your teeth.  Imagine how much more it'll hurt
if I smash ALL of them in," Chai said smoothly.  "Where is he?"

"I *told* you, I don't KNOW," Paul screamed.  "EAAAGHH!  You BITCH!"

Chai chose to ignore that, on account of having only one hand to spare
for pulling at her conversation partner's generous crop of curly brown
hair.  The other was quite comfortable holding onto one of her Desert
Eagles, thank you.

The men milling about shifted uneasily at the abuse being done their
superior, but behaved themselves, lest they be unduly ventilated.

"I'm getting tired of repeating myself," Chai sighed, pulling back at
her gun's hammer with a thumb.  "Now, for the last time... Where.  IS.
He?"

A playful tug accentuated the question.

"OOOOWWW!  He- We heard he was last seen in Hyacinth, that place with
the plants... I think he was seen there last month I- AAGH!"

"Don't BS me, Paul," Chai said calmly, slowly twisting her clenched
hand.  "Your boss was last seen *here*, Paul.  About a week ago, in
fact."

"We saw his *troop* here," Paul seethed, his face contorted in rage.
"We didn't see the boss himself."

"Explain."

"*No one* ever gets to see the boss.  The only ones who've seen him
are the guys he calls his Gung Ho Guns, and so far, it looks like
*they've* disappeared off the face of the fucking- AAGHH!  SHIT!
Sorry!  AGGH!- *planet*!  The only way we know he's anywhere is if his
special bodyguards show up in town too!"

"I see," Chai mused, tapping her chin with her gun thoughtfully.  "But
his select group *was* here recently, was it not?"

"Shit, yes," Paul spat.  A wad of blood plopped messily onto his
shirt's chest.  Chai regarded it, eyes half-lidded.  "His specially-
trained thugs were here.  But that's no guarantee that he's here
himself.  Hell, I'm the fucking *leader* of his outpost here and even
I only got to see him onc- OOOF!!"

"Now what did I just tell you about obscene language, Mr. Walkins?"
Chai idly quizzed her new friend, removing her knee from his stomach.
"People might wonder about your upbringing.  In what direction did
they take off to?"

There was no answer for a moment.

"Paauuul..." Chai singsonged.

"West," Paul coughed, an eye squinted shut.  "We... We saw them head
west the day b'fore yesterday.  They'll make short work of *you*,
though, no matter how good you think your ass is!  They'll-- FUCK!"

"I certainly hope not," Chai said finally as Paul slammed onto the oak
panels of a nearby table in the last legs of a swift throw.  "At
least, not with me."

Dusting her hands off, Chai turned and then strode towards the exit.
She raised a hand at the people behind her in a casual farewell.
"Thanks for the information, boys.  Sorry I can't stay and have a
little drink, but I'll have to hurry if I want to catch up to your
esteemed boss.  Later!"

The goons could only watch as the slender, green-coated woman with the
wide-brimmed hat strolled out without so much as a bruise after
walking into the midst of the most ruthless gang in the area and then
humiliating their leader in the most brazen manner possible.

A few made motions to remedy this.

"Hold it right there, you clods!" the battered Paul Wilkins yelled as
he was being helped up by a few of his subordinates.  "Let her go.
She won't be leaving right away.  We can still get her... just lemme
regain my bearings for a while..."

The outside became dead with silence as their visitor was finally out
of earshot.

"Crazy bitch..."

Nobody spoke for a few seconds...

Two red slits slowly opened from a remote corner of the gloomy depths
of the building.

"it seems that she believed you.  you aren't as useless as i had
thought after all," a voice droned from its general direction.
"though i have to say that what just took place was a pathetic
demonstration of this miserable division's 'strength', as it were."

Paul sulkily wiped a clot of maroon from his lip.  "The bitch's on the
warpath," he groused, as if that would explain it.  "You heard her
yourself.  She's suicidal.  She's on a fucking crusade.  Someone
killed her family, someone raped her, someone offed her dog, hell, I
dunno.  Point is, she's out for some payback... We were just caught
off guard, that's all."

"which is precisely my point," said the voice again, its owner
emerging from its dark seclusion.  "you were caught off guard.  that
the one who did it was a revenge-driven woman doesn't excuse you."

The statement was followed by a sharp hiss of breath... almost like a
steam blast.

Paul licked his lips nervously.  "Y-yes, sir..."

"it is a good thing that you have misled her for the time being,
however," the dark being decided and turned away.  "no sense in anyone
really knowing where we are truly headed..."

"And the girl, sir?" Paul reminded his superior.

"she said she was a lady, paul," the officer mused lazily.  "ah,
yes... the lady.  tell you what... judging fom your gang's recent...
performance... you'll be needing someone from our group to re-educate
you in the affairs of violence.  lynch oda will do, i believe.  he
will no doubt be only too glad to assist you in disposing of your
newest irritation as well."

Finished, he spun to leave.

"Wait!" Paul said.  "What about the boss?  Does HE know about Sir
Lynch stayin' behind here?"

The superior grinned underneath his blackish breathing mask.  The red
slits that graced the centers of his goggle lenses narrowed even
further in his apparent amusement.

"oh, he knows, paul," he assured his subordinate.  "you don't need to
worry.  he knows."

Paul paused.  Something was not right.

"Where IS the boss, anyway, sir?"

At that, the masked man laughed-- a cruel, mechanical sound that
bespoke of gears, pistons and spraying steam.  Paul cringed.

"you're looking at him."

"WHA-!?"

There was a burst of white steam.  The pale cloud of vapor vanished
after a few seconds... and the man had vanished with it.

**********

"Cretin," Chai snorted as she dipped a finger into her ice cream
shake.  She licked at the digit distractedly, not really tasting the
cold chocolate and strawberry confection on it.

Paul had been lying.

It hadn't been all that hard to figure out, really... it didn't take a
mind reader to figure out that the blighter had been lying through his
teeth- well, what was left of them, at any rate.

Chai paused in her private giggling and reprimanded herself.  Shame.
One should never delight in another's suffering.  Otherwise, she would
be no different from any of them...

He sure looked pathetic, though.

Becoming serious again, Chai contemplated the implications of her
recent... "interview", spooning in some of her treat.  She rolled the
sweetness around delicately with her tongue as she thought.

He had been lying- meaning that the boss' group had never really gone
west.  Which was obvious, really.  Nothing there but more desert- the
only towns located in the area had recently been wiped out by Vash the
Stampede.  Mister Walkins had been a hell of a lousy liar.

Okay, okay... further analysis.  If they hadn't gone west... then
where?  Lousy liars tend to say the exact opposite of what the truth
actually was... but she had already *been* east.  North?  South?
Unlikely.  She had studied their movement- they wouldn't be going
there just yet.

So what was left?

Chai smiled, popping into her mouth the cherry that topped the creamy
sweetness in her glass.

"The bastard is here," she whispered to herself, forgetting her own
simple code of decency.  She licked her lips in anticipation.
"Finally... I'm going to find him."

She had finally tracked the sumvabitch down.

Caught up in her daydreaming, Chai completely failed to absorb the
brunt of an abrupt shove onto her back.

"Oof!" she wanted to say, but it came out as more of an "oglpp!", as
her lower face, which included her nose and mouth, had thrust out
forwards and into her semisolid snack.

She whirled around in her bar stool indignantly.

"Hey, you!" she told the red and white back she saw moving away from
her. "*You've* got a lot of nerve!  You almost made me spill my ice
cream!  Hey!  The *lady* is *talking* to you!"

The tallish- *man*, Chai saw from the muscular frame- paused in his
walking.

"So she is," he said simply, not turning around.

Chai frowned.  She got off her stool and glared up at the back of the
man's neck.

"In a planet with little water, and close to absolutely NO
refrigerating technology, do you *realize* how much a single glass of
ice cream can cost?  Do you!?" she demanded of the man's back.  "Well,
aren't you going to apologize?"

Unseen by Chai, the man's eyes narrowed into annoyed green-pupilled
slits.  Experienced men would have read murder in those eyes.

"Well?"

He turned around.

Chai's eyes widened and she lost her breath for just the tiniest
moment.  The man's sharp, angular features radiated hardness and a
generally merciless look about them.  Vibrant golden yellow hair
crowned his head, the locks all combed backwards, adding to the
piercing appearance of his gaze.  Not the least of the contributors to
which were his eyes- bright emerald orbs peering from behind a near
scowl by a strong-lined brow.  His tightly-drawn lips completed the
slightly angry look of peevish contempt.

The word 'CUTE' sprung to mind.

"Uh..." Chai said, forgetting her earlier tirade.

For a moment, those facial features threatened to harden even further,
to boil over and become wild, indignant fury and then...

The man blinked.  The corners of his mouth twitched somewhat at a
sudden, unknown emotion.  Chai arched an eyebrow and wondered what he
could have seen.

"You... you..." he started, a smirk forming on his previously harsh
face.  He chuckled outright.  "You have something on your lip."

For a few rare seconds, Chai had an unguarded moment of pure
confusion.  Wide, brown eyes blinked beffudledly, Chai's small mouth
pursed in an expression of momentary blankness.  The absence of her
large hat also seemed to make her looked all the more vulnerable,
naked somehow.  Her head cocked to the side a bit, mouth in a little
"o" shape.

And then she remembered to be annoyed again.

Pouting, reddening in embarrassment, she swiped a sleeve across her
mouth to rid it of the brownish-reddish foam that had situated itself
there.  Regaining her composure, Chai stood up full height against her
tormentor.  He was almost two heads taller than she was.

"Don't try to change the subject," she snapped.  "Are you going to
apologize or not?"

The contemptuous look returned once again, as if it were some kind of
default setting for his face.  And then, after a few seconds, this was
replaced by a look of genuine curiosity, as if he were having a rare
unguarded moment of his own.

Or, he was *allowing* himself an ungauarded moment.

"For what?" he asked.

And then an even rarer thing happened-- Chai became speechless.

The man regarded the woman before him who was opening and closing her
mouth in a strange manner, but with no sound coming out.  Getting no
answer, the blonde man shrugged and then turned around to walk towards
a solitary table near the wall.

Leaving Chai wondering what the hell just happened.

**********

"For WHAT, he asks," Chai steamed, biting down hard on her silver
spoon, furiously taking in what remained of her ice cream.  "For
WHAT!?  The *nerve* of that guy!"

She stole a glance towards where the man was sitting and drinking
without a care in the world.

"Baka," Chai fumed and spooned in some more.  "Idiot."

It seemed to be a day for rare things- Chai didn't even notice the two
who had walked in the swinging bar doors and placed themselves in the
immediate vicinity behind her.  Fortunately for her, however, pure
instinct reacted to the sounds of guns drawn faster than her mind
could even comprehend what was happening.

Her arms became green blurs, hands slipping underneath her thin coat
underneath which there would be two twin silver Desert Eagles waiting
for each.  The hands reached their destinations and clamped down
expertly on the comfortable, familiar feels of the gun handles, but
didn't draw them out-- that would have taken too much time.

*BAMBAM*

The first man's shotgun shattered upon impact- it was of shabby make.
The other man's submachinegun was flung from its previous position,
spraying its load of hellfire in random directions towards the ceiling
instead.

Chai thrust her lip outward, eyes sad.  Gunsmoke drifted lazily from
two charred holes on either side of her on the green coat she wore.
"And this was my favorite too."

Eliciting a battle cry, the first man rushed forwards, knife drawn, as
the second regained his bearings and attempted to bring his weapon to
bear on Chai Monday's back.

"Here we go," Chai sighed, finally drawing her two friends.  Spinning
on her bar stool, she lifted her left leg to the side-- into which the
first man promptly ran, winding himself.

"OOF!" he grunted, dropping his blade.

Chai rolled sideways to the right as her first assailant doubled over,
clutching at his stomach.  The instant she left, the stool she had
been sitting on and a chunk of the bar became decorated with unsightly
black pits from a spray of high-speed pellets.  The ice cream glass
blew apart in a shower of crystal and gooey liquids.

*BBBRRRRRRKKKRRRKKKRKKK!!!*

Around the disturbance, people began to either leave or take cover
underneath their respective tables.  The red and white-suited man in
the corner, however, just drank, not even watching.

Meanwhile, Chai rolled onto a knee, coat billowing out behind her,
and raised both guns towards the man shooting at her.  Seconds before
his mad strafe could reach her, Chai blew both his ears off.

*BAM*

Chai ignored the screaming and returned her attention to the other
one, who had finally recovered.  He might as well have stayed down-
Chai shot both him in both feet without so much as blinking.

*BAMBAM*

*THUDTHUD*

"AH, SHIT!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAFUCKFUCKFUCKAAAAAAAAAA!"

*clinkclink*

Shiny bronze bullet casings bounced a few times at their descents
before coming to full stops on the dusty bar floor.

Brushing her slightly dishivelled raven hair behind her, Chai looked
down haughtily at the cursing piles at her feet.  She returned both
guns into their proper places after reloading them and then sat on her
heels.

"Well thank you for blowing away some perfectly good ice cream," she
told them thoughtfully.  "Half eaten, but still perfectly good.  I'm
afraid I'll have to ask you fellows to reimburse me for my loss, ne?"

Getting only gurgles of pain in response, Chai reached into the
nearest man's vest and pulled out a battered-looking wallet.

"I believe that amounts to $$1,500, gentlemen," she informed them,
counting out the amount.  "And I do think that I'll take some for the
damages to my coat and some for the bullets I used on your useless
hides too, eh?  Heeellooooo..."

Chai unraveled the folded piece of paper tucked neatly into the man's
shirt pocket.  A short inspection revealed that the other man had
paper on him as well.

"To the dear Miss Monday," she read from both, smirking.  "The middle
of town, high noon.  Well, *that's* an unoriginal challenge, if I ever
saw one..."

Wadding the messages and dropping them onto one of the men's foreheads
with a crunchy "pith!" sound, Chai walked over to where her hat was,
thankfully, unharmed.  Putting it on, she put a hand on her hips and
rubbed her chin meditatively.

"My, my... a cordial invitation to a party... How nice," she mused as
she straightened her headwear to satisfaction.  "Which can only mean
that they have every confidence that they'll be the ones walking out
alive... Hmm..."

She paused a bit to purse her lips in thought.

"I guess I'll have to show up then... but how to even out the odds..."

She noticed the white and red-suited blonde man drinking by the
lonely corner.

**********

Someone was pulling out a chair by his table.

"Lalilo, neighbor!" the intruder greeted cheerfully, plopping down
onto a seat across from him.  It was the black-haired girl in the
green coat-- the one who had demanded an apology from him.

The blonde's eyes flitted to look at her for a moment and then both
closed as he took a drink from his glass in a blatant gesture of
indifference.  Chai chose not to mind this.

"Chai, Chai Monday," Chai provided him, leaning on an elbow before the
drinking man and then offering him a hand.

"What if you are?" the man asked almost sleepily, ignoring the smooth
palm presented him.

*sip*

"I seem to find myself in a spot of trouble," Chai said, retrieving
the unaccepted hand.  "A group of vicious people have called me out
for a little midday brawl scheduled at noon and is to be held at the
very center of town... trouble is, it's a few minutes to noon and the
minute I step outside, guess what?-- I'm in the middle of town."

"So what if you are?"

*sip*

"That would make me," Chai explained slowly.  "A true-to-life damsel
in distress."

"So what if it does?"

*sip*

"Well... Men with any moral backbone whatsoever *usually* have a thing
against that," Chai pointed out for him, lifting a finger for
emphasis.  "Especially if the damsel happens to be someone as charming
and beautiful as yours truly."

"So what if they do?"

*sip*

Chai's left eyebrow twitched.

"Okay, let me cut to the chase," Chai finally said, tipping her hat a
little bit higher with a thumb.  "You're good with a gun, aren't you?"

He stopped drinking for a bit.  His eyes locked onto hers, as if
searching for something.  He didn't seem to find whatever it was he
thought he'd see, but he didn't break gazes with her either.

"Maybe."

"Well, you seem to be pretty effing confident in yourself, at the very
least," Chai said flippantly, leaning back on her chair.  "You don't
seem to care much about inconveniencing those immediately around you,
and you ignore a gunfight between three people as if it was nothing
but a squabble between kids."

"Wasn't it?"

"What!?"

The blonde said nothing and emptied the glass of its contents a little
more.

Shaking her head, Chai continued.

"Also, I can tell a lot from your choice of weapons," Chai told him
seriously, removing herself from her relaxed position and then leaning
in closer to cock her head towards the man's hip pointedly.  A large
black revolver was cradled there, looking for all the world like a
dark metallic chunk of pure evil.

"A custom-made revolver," Chai went on, watching for any reaction.
"Larger than average.  Humongous, even.  Amateurs with no belief in
their own capabilities don't choose monsters like that-- they go for
nice, big automatics, submachineguns, spreadshots, or machine rifles."

She jerked a thumb towards where the two she had dispatched were
shambling out the doors.

"Like those two yahoos over there," she said.  She impaled the man
before her again with an intense stare from her deep, dark brown eyes.
"Only special people go for accuracy and stopping power to the point
of high customization and specification.  Reeeeeaaaally talented men,
you know what I mean?"

*sip*

"Or I could be waaay off, you know," Chai grinned and pulled away,
holding her hands before her in a show of openness.  "You could just
be some bigshot type who thinks he can handle a flashy weapon without
actually having any skill or experience.  One *might* think you're
compensating for certain... ahem... *shortcomings* with a weapon like
that, eh, eh?"

*sip*

"You ARE a hired gun, aren't you?"

The man took in a deep, deliberate breath and then released it just
as slowly.  He looked up.

"What if I am?"

Chai smiled.  "I have a proposition for you.  Care to hear it?"

Without waiting for an answer, Chai outlined her request.

"I'm willing to bet that you're not half bad with that cute little
pistol of yours.  So here's what I'm gonna do... I'm going to walk out
and meet whoever they want me to face out there.  If things turn ugly,
or if it doesn't turn out to be a fair fight-- which I'm counting on--
YOU come in and help me out a bit, ne?  I have some extra cash on me,
and it doesn't look like you have any present employment as of now.
At the very least, you could probably use the exercise.  So, how about
it, pal?"

The man closed his eyes, as if in contemplation of the idea.  That was
alright- Chai was willing to wait.

*****

The man tapped a foot.

For a moment, he considered refusing outright.  The woman's brashness
grated against his sensibilities unpleasantly.  The very idea of being
asked to do something for someone else seemed like an affront to his
personal dignity, which he valued rather highly... VERY, VERY highly,
actually.

For the briefest moment, he considered refusing outright... and then
maybe putting the woman back in her place.  Harshly.

He looked at the woman.

Chai flashed him her most winning smile.

The man's eyes narrowed.

And then another rare thing happened.

He considered the proposition.

"Eh," he said in the auditory equivalent of a shrug.  "Why not?"

Chai's grin widened.  "Great!"

And for the first time since Chai saw him, the man smiled as well.

"I don't think I caught your name, mister..." said the suddenly quite
breathless Chai.

The man stood up, and Chai did as well.  He extended a hand, mimicking
Chai's earlier, ignored gesture.

"Knives," he said.  "Knives Millions."

"Interesting name," Chai smiled and took the proffered appendage.
"Glad to meet you then, Knives."

The two shook hands.

**********

High noon-- both of the planet's suns were directly overhead, glares
at the maximum, light and heat battering down on whomever was foolish
enough to go outside.

Chai tipped her hat backwards to take in the hulking shape of the
individual standing at the opposite end of the street.

The man was a brute in the truest sense of the word.  He wore large,
padded armor that barely hid his gigantic frame.  His head was
squarish, face mean and sadistic.  His limbs bulged with muscles.

"Glad you could join me, Miss Monday," the man said in a loud,
laughing voice.  "For a moment there, I was afraid you'd missed my
little love notes."

"That I didn't, if that's what they actually were," Chai said
casually.  "I'm sorry if I don't seem too impressed, but I don't
believe I've had the displeasure of knowing exactly who sent me my
little playmates."

"My apologies," said the man, apparently enjoying the idle courtesies.
"How rude of me.  My name is Tartarus "Lynch" Oda, Miss Monday... A
pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," Chai said, closing her eyes.
"Let's get this over with, shall we?  I'm sure Paul Walkins, your
respectable, if somewhat ungentlemanly, underling doesn't like having
his payback kept waiting."

Lynch laughed.  "That he doesn't.  Very well then... BOYS!"

Chai rolled her eyes as people began to appear on the surrounding
building's rooftops-- mostly men from the hideout.

*KACHLACK!*

*CHACHAK!*

*KATACHLICK!*

The men seemed highly pleased that they had both the numerical and
geographical advantage-- but none seemed happier than the grinning
form of Paul Walkins, who was gloating down at Chai.  The intimidating
effect of his stare however, was rather marred by the presence of a
bandaged nose and the absence of two of his teeth.

"More and more cliché by the minute," Chai sighed, rubbing at a
temple.  She shot the one known as Lynch Oda... with a dirty look.
"Is that all?  No undertaker standing beside a ready coffin?  No
complicated death traps?  Marching band?"

"Oh," Lynch grinned, drawing out a long, cylindrical weapon from
behind him.  "I think that just us will be more than enough for you,
little lady."

Chai smirked.  "Then you won't mind if I invite in a friend of my own,
Mr. Oda?"

"Heh.  Go ahead.  It won't make any difference."

Chai turned to the bar she had emerged from, put two fingers in her
mouth and whistled.

The swinging double doors parted to admit into the outside a lone
figure.  He made his way to Chai's side, arms folded, and eyes closed
in a relaxed manner.

"You won't have to do much work, I'm afraid," Chai told him from the
corner of her mouth.  "I think I can handle these hoodlums alone...
but it's always nice to have some insurance."

The man just nodded.

Around them, however, the general mood of the gathering had changed
somewhat considerably.

"Holy-..."

"Ah, FUCK..."

"Is that who I think it is?"

"DAMMIT, Paul!  I thought you said he was *dead*!"

"Shaddup!" Paul snarled at the man beside him on an inn's rooftop.
"Well then, if he isn't, we can fix that!"

Lynch Oda, however, didn't seem as confident as his friend.

The large man swallowed and took a step backwards at the sight of the
newcomer.  "You."

The new man tilted his head just the slightest bit in Lynch's
direction.  He opened his eyes partway.  The sun's light made the two
thin, near triangular slits glow a hot whitish blue.

That seemed to be the last straw.

"Pull back, boys," Lynch managed through a suddenly thick throat.
"Let's settle this another time..."

Paul's eyes blinked and he directed an angry glare at his superior
from above.

"WHAT!?  There're only two of them!  We can still take 'em, Lynch!
We can-"

"I *said*," Lynch growled, taking another step backwards.  "Pull.
BACK.  *NOW*."

The last word was a bark, finally spurring everyone else into action.
Aimed guns were withdrawn, fingers left triggers, and rooftops were
vacated in a hurry.

Paul took one last look at Chai and her companion, snorted once in
disgust and then disappeared down the street as well.

The last of them vanished.

Chai blinked twice, took off her hat and then scratched her head in
confusion.

"Well... that went easier than I had expected..." she said, a puzzled
look on her face.

She turned and looked up at the man with her.

"I guess you must have a reputation around here, Knives," she
observed, studying the man's face with a new interest.

Knives smirked.  "Maybe."

"Well, if you're as famous as this little encounter makes you out to
be," Chai said, shaking her head and pocketing her guns.  "Then I
guess we're done here, ne?"

Knives nodded.

"Not a man of very many words, are you?" Chai teased, hitting him
lightly on the arm as they walked.

Knives nodded.

**********

"hmm.  this does complicate matters the slightest bit."

"COMPLICATE MATTERS!?" Lynch practically shouted into the small radio
speaker he was almost crushing in his grip.  "The boss is ALIVE,
Black!  BREATHING!  Still able to use a GUN!"

"i'm the new boss, remember?" came the voice again from the radio unit
perched precariously on a battered table in the middle of the small
room.  "but you must mean our dear friend and former employer, knives
millions when you speak in so concerned a manner, though.  what of
it?"

"He's still alive," Lynch spat into the speaker, "and therefore, he's
still the BOSS!  We can't kill him!"

"no, he isn't, and yes, we can," the voice patiently responded.  "we
haven't heard from him ever since he went out to face vash-- which can
only mean that he was defeated.  how he survived, i have no idea.  his
loss, however, forfeits all rights he had to leadership of our little
organization-- as we had all agreed beforehand, yes?"

"He never knew about that," Lynch reminded him, "we never told him,
remember?  It was all among ourselves."

"besides the point.  but i'm surprised at you, lynch," the borderline
mechanical voice said.  "i would have thought that, given the chance,
you would be the first to kill-- and cheerfully, at that-- mr.
millions in the most unpleasant manner possible."

"Yeah, but I-"

"it's unlikely that you have any ties of loyalty towards dear mr.
millions," the voice went on, effectively cutting off anything else
Lynch might have had to say.  "is it possible then that the difficulty
lies in a... doubt... that your abilities with a weapon will stand up
to mr. millions' own in combat?"

"It's not that!" the giant roared into the radio.  "I can take him on
any day!  He lost to that wimp, Vash, didn't he?  I can blast him into
too many pieces to count!"

"what's stopping you then, mr. oda?"

Lynch calmed down considerably.  After a moment, he told the speaker,
"Nothing.  It's just that he surprised me, that's all.  You *said* he
was dead, Black."

"an erroneous assumption on my part," the man on the other line said
dismissively.  "i trust you will take action to repair the situation."

There was a pause.

"He'll be dead before the end of the day," Lynch promised the radio
and hung up.

He turned around and beheld a grinning Paul Walkins.

"Well?"

"No more cutesy invitations," Lynch proclaimed in a low voice, picking
up his weapon and heading towards the door.  "This time, we just kill
them."

*********

Slightly twisting a small switch located somewhere on his neck, the
one known as Black tuned his own radio out.  He steepled his fingers
thoughtfully, mist lazily trickling out from the joints of his suit's
neck, shoulders, arms, feet.

"goodbye, mr. oda," he whirred, voice accompanied by a sharp hiss of
steam.  "it was nice knowing you."

*********

Knives leaned his head on a hand as he watched Chai eat.

"Isn't that your second glass of ice cream today?" he asked idly,
peering closely as Chai spooned in mouthful after mouthful of cold
creamy goodness.

"A lady is entitled to her weaknesses, Knives," Chai explained between
mouthfuls.  "Won't you have some?  I could buy another glass for you,
if you like."

"I don't think so," Knives answered, leaning back on his chair,
looking far out at something beyond the restaurant walls.

Chai shrugged-- his loss.  Ice cream was expensive, anyway.

Someone had entered the cafe and was whispering something to a man at
a table.  The fellow left immediately afterwards.  Both did.

"You won't mind if I don't pay you for services rendered, will you?"
Chai asked after swallowing a solid block of dark chocolate she had
happily found near the center of her glass.  "I mean, I could have
handled them myself, and thank you very much for driving them off
courtesy of a scary reputation I'm not privy to, but, you know, you
really didn't do anything much except that, right?  Would it be
payment enough if I just told you that I find you rather handsome?"

Knives nodded, still looking distracted.  Around them, people were
standing up to leave, one by one.

"So, where are you headed after this?" Chai chattered, digging once
more into her snack.  "Do you just wander around towns for jobs?  No
particular contract at the moment?  Marks?  Bounties to cash?  What
about that $$60,000,000,000 man, Vash the Humanoid Typhoon?"

"What's it to you?" Knives intoned in a low voice, not seeming to be
interested... though the change in his voice was just barely
perceptible.

Chai smirked.

"Nothing, really.  Do you *always* respond to people in simple
sentences or in questions?" she asked, curious.

"No-"

Knives blinked and then looked at her.  Chai looked back amusedly.

"Hmph," Knives breathed, smiling.  He stared at the tabletop, brow
furrowing in a deep, personal amusement of an almost diabolical kind.
"You have to understand, Miss Monday... I am what you might call a
very... arrogant man.  I walk around everyday considering everyone
around me inferior human beings not even worthy of being in my sight.
Being in the company of such insects for extended periods of time tend
to play havoc on my already inherently low tolerance for the spineless
slime.  They are scourge.  A plague.  A malignant presence that I feel
I have an obligation to look down on, feel superior over, see their
lives as nothing more than objects that I can use to my own ends."

He looked up at Chai then, an unnerving smile on his lips.

This was faced by Chai's own rather sunny one.

"We're similarly afflicted then," Chai concluded, nodding.  "WAITER!
Some hot fudge here please?"

Knives blinked wide-eyed at Chai as she went on with her eating.

"Mmmm... good!  Mmmf..."

Knives scowled and looked away.  "Blargh," he commented, a little
annoyed and somewhat dissapointed.  Was there no scaring this girl?

"You've gotta work on your people skills, Mr. Knives," Chai advised.

Knives ignored this. 

Senses sharp to the point of being superhuman detected the telltale
sounds of something very unpleasant about to happen.  Knives prepared
to make the necessary movements to avoid the impending danger with as
little energy expenditure as possible.

And then he remembered the girl.

"GET DOWN!" Knives snarled, lunging towards her in a last-minute
decision to save this girl's life.

All Chai saw was a reddish white blur.

"Wha-?"

Flattened was just one of many ways to properly describe what happened
to the cafe building after the deafening explosion had finally died
down to low, resounding echoes, and the smoke had cleared.  Flaming
pieces of blackened boards fell from the sky, nothing more than
smoldering lumps of coal.

"Do you think that'll do it?" Paul asked, concerned.  The rest of the
men looked on from behind their leader, guns at the ready.  Behind
them, the former owners wept silently at their loss.

"If not," Lynch drawled, shouldering the large bazooka he had used to
level what had once been a two-story structure before them.  A large
red "BIG BOOMER" was painted on its dirty steel body.  "That's what
*you* guys are for..."

A mound of ashen rubble shifted and then erupted as a white and red-
clad body burst forth from underneath it.  Savage green eyes glared at
them from a soot-stained face.  Tense, lithe fingers inched towards
the angular form of a giant black revolver.

Lynch and the others took a step back, bracing themselves.

"You..." Knives breathed, already seeing every person before him dead
and rotting.  A single practiced movement after that would then sent
his hand to its extension, the gun, which would mean the instantaneous
and indiscriminate demise of all he saw before him.

A certain kind of glee began to build up in his insides, the emotion
reflecting onto his face.  His lips curved into a wide, wicked smile
as his mind prepared to slip into the old, familiar coldness of the
killing sta...

And then he remembered the girl.

Chai pushed some planking off of her as she groggily attempted to
stand up, only managing to get up on one knee.

"Unnngh... did you get the license of that land ship?" she moaned,
clutching at a bleeding arm.

"Shit," Knives spat, streaking downwards towards the half-conscious
woman, effectively aborting his own counterattack.

"SHOOT THEM!" Lynch screamed.  Paul and his lackeys were only too
happy to oblige.

They opened fire, few even bothering to aim properly, the main
populace of gunmen opting to gleefully pour lead in the general
direction of their victims, convinced that there would be no escape
for anyone on the wrong side of their torrential barrage.  Lynch
joined in as well, lobbing high-velocity shells of incendiary death at
his targets.

Knives had always had a way with torrential barrages.

The basic problem of their onslaught was that, by the time they began
pumping projectiles into the air Knives and Chai had occupied, it had
become just that-- air that Knives and Chai had occupied.  The former
occupants were, by that time, a considerable distance away from the
fray.

Leaping into a nearby gorge, Knives escaped with the green bundle of
unmoving human being that he carried.

Paul and several others made motions to follow them.  Lynch raised a
hand, blocking them, signalling them to cease.

"What gives, Lynch?"

"No need to follow him," the giant answered, a bemused smile on his
face.  "He's actually *running away*.  His fight with Vash must've
messed 'im up worse than I thought."

"And the girl?"

"Let 'em go," Lynch snickered, turning and then starting to walk away.
"He's all washed up.  She's hurt.  Let the desert finish 'em off."

As if on cue, the sand kicked up everywhere as the wind increased
speed without warning-- the beginnings of another storm.

**********

In the desert, time seems to be at a standstill.  One day, a week, a
month, a year, a hundred years... the swirling yellow browns of the
sands constantly appear the same, creating a kind of illusion akin to
that of an eternal stasis-- nothing moves, nothing changes-- the
signatures of a dead world.

The sands swirled around the two bodies facing each other in the
middle of a featureless, merciless landscape.

"Where are you going, brother?" said the man in the bright red coat.
He watched the man before him intently.

"It's not any of your concern," the other man answered.  He was
staring at the sand, refusing to look at his brother's face or eyes.

"Stay here, Knives," Vash said, stepping forward.  He held his hand
out to his errant brother.  "We can help you."

"Help me?"

Knives slowly turned his head so that he could look into the other
man's eyes.

Vash was in his usual red trenchcoat, his hair sticking upwards in the
style that Rem had cut it in.  Knives was in the white and red
bodysuit that he had crafted for himself over the years and had his
hair in a flattop- a product of his own attempt at cutting it.  Their
appearances were now almost as different as their philosophies.

For a moment, though, it was as if either man was staring at a mirror.

Knives snickered and turned his gaze away.

"I didn't think you were serious," he chuckled softly.  "But it
actually seems that you are..."

Vash's expression tightened.

Knives grinned and held the other man's eyes with his own.

"And what do you want to fix in me?" he asked, folding his arms.
"What exactly is it in me that's broken- that I need help with?  What
is it that makes you think that I want any kind of this so-called
'help' you want to give me?"

"You're twisted, Knives," Vash said simply.  "A long time ago, you
changed.  You weren't always like this."

Vash could still remember the time they had spent as brothers- how,
during the first few years of their existence in one of the S.E.E.D.S.
ships, they had sat under the tutelage of Rem together, how they had
confided in each other over how some of the crew feared them for their
being superhuman, how they had played and laughed together.  Those
were good times.

Until Knives had sabotaged and destroyed the Project.

"I was *always* like this," Knives retorted.  There was no hint of
sympathy in his voice or general demeanor.  He wasn't going to make it
easy on his oh-so-much-holier-than-thou sibling.  "You're either too
stupid to know it, or you're just too deluded to accept it."

Knives had been scheming and planning since as long as he could
remember.  Listening to the one called Rem had been a necessity.  If
he filtered out all the "life is precious" crap, he found that he
could always learn something new about the ship systems and dynamics
from her.  Stupid woman and her idiotic ideals.

They all had to be destroyed.  Their science had created him and his
brother as the epitome of their species' evolution.  It had been his
turn to get rid of the old.

Nothing personal, really.  All in the name of survival and evolution.

And once upon a time, he had always been able to rely on his brother,
Vash, to be his friend, to be his goddamned BROTHER, damn it... but
no, he had to be taken in by all that rubbish talk by the woman, Rem.
He had freaking shot him in the LEG once, and without warning.

"*You're* the one who changed..."

Vash's eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what changed you, or what made you the way you are," he
said, his voice dark and serious.  "But you can change again.  Stay
with me, Meryl and Millie... we'll try to help you change, brother.
Please."

He again raised the hand he had offered earlier.

"I don't want to change," Knives hissed.  The folded arms across his
chest tightened with emotion.  "Do I have to spell it out for you,
twin brother?..."

He glared at Vash then.  "Just because you won once doesn't mean you
can tell me how I should live.  WHAT gives you the right!?"

Vash turned away for a moment.  There was something in his eye that
puzzled Knives.  Was it... sadness?

"If you don't want to change," Vash said in a low voice, troubled.
"If you're too hopelessly lost in your warped philosophy to ever
become any different... then why aren't you trying to kill me, Meryl,
Millie, and everyone else in the planet all over again?"

Knives smirked.

"Aren't I?"

The movement of Vash's black-clad arm was so fast that it wasn't even
a blur.  In a flash, the silver six-shooter that usually just swung by
his side under his crimson coat was just *there*, in his hands, raised
and aimed surely and unwaveringly at his brother's forehead.

But that wasn't really accurate.

Vash's gun was facing its exact twin, only in a shiny jet black.  From
the first move to the last, Knives was every bit as fast, though his
had been an instinctive reaction to Vash's draw.

"Relax, brother," Knives said in a low voice amusedly.  "Who said
anything about killing you *now*?  I'd waited almost a hundred years.
I can wait a little longer..."

Vash didn't move.

"Heh," said Knives.  He raised his gun, twirled it on a finger and
reholstered it.  After a minute, Vash dropped his stance as well...
reluctantly.

"Were you ready to kill me, Vash?" Knives asked, clearly amused.
"Were you ready to kill me to protect yourself?  To protect your lady
friends?  To protect the pathetic people of this wretched little wad
of sand that passes for a planet?"

"I was going to beat you," Vash said.  "But without killing you.  I
did it once.  I can do it again."

Knives scowled.

"You were just lucky."  Knives regretted the words as soon as he
uttered them.  They souded so weak.  He turned his back at his
brother, finished with him.  He started walking.

"Where are you going?"

"Does it matter where?  Are you going to stop me?"

Vash took a step forward, hand reaching out.

"Don't try and stop me, brother.  If you don't want to be truly,
utterly sorry for something that you do, don't try and stop me."

He said it simply enough, but the message was crystal-clear to the
other.

Stop me and I WILL kill you.  Now.

Vash halted in his tracks, looking on at his twin's back.

"We will meet again, brother," he told the figure disappearing into
the sudden sandstorm.  The planet was not known for its kind weather.

"That we will... brother."

The man known as Millions Knives disappeared into the raging sands.

**********

Now, three months later, the sands looked no different.

The one known as Millions Knives stirred from his still sitting as a
low groan could be heard from the lying form nearby.

"That was some party last night," Chai moaned weakly, trying to sit
up.  The effort was ceased at the sharp protest of an insistent
injury.  "Heh... I can't even remember my own name."

Chai was having a time even keeping her eyes open-- she ached...
pretty much everywhere.  She made out the vague form of her left arm
and noted the medical attention it had been given.

"Did... did you do this, Knives?" Chai muttered, slowly turning her
head to look at the man in question.  When her vision finally cleared,
she saw that he was looking at her.

Knives hurriedly looked away.

"I... It..."

After a moment to gather his thoughts, Knives started again.

"I... I've never had to... fix anyone before," he managed, not liking
the taste of the words.  He had never been one to admit inadequacies.

"It's fine," Chai smiled- or at least, she hoped she was smiling.
She must have lost quite an amount of blood before being patched up.
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be here right now, you know."

The woman arched an eyebrow and then took the time to look around a
bit.  They seemed to be inside a dilapidated shack of some sort.
Outside, a medium-intensity sand blizzard was ending and the wood
creaked in time to its dying howls.  The only objects that furnished
the structure were the chair that Knives was sitting on, and the table
she was occupying.  A single candle burned from the holder above.

"Where are we anyway?" she asked finally.

"Nowhere," Knives answered, looking away at something distant.
"Somewhere.  About half a mile from the town."

"How long have I been out?"

"Too long.  You heal slowly, Miss Monday."

After that, there really wasn't all that much left to ask or tell.
Chai could work out the rest for herself.

"Bastards," Chai breathed, finally managing to sit up on the table.
She espied some of her things hanging by a peg near the window-- among
them, her weapons, which were piled up on a small shelf by the peg,
along with her ammunition.

Chai got off the table.

"What do you think you're doing?" Knives asked without looking at her.

"What I want," Chai said simply, taking her hat down and putting it on
her head.  She started to check one of her guns to see if it was fully
loaded.  Upon jamming the cartridge back up the gun's holder, however,
sharp, sudden pain lanced up her hurt arm.

The gun dropped onto the floor, spilling its cartridge, which
clattered a bit shortly before becoming still on the wood.

Chai clenched her teeth as she gently cradled her limp, almost numb
arm.

"They'll smear you across the sand, you know," Knives said matter-of-
factly, only sparing the panting woman with a sidelong glance before
looking away again.  "Is *that* what you want?"

"No."

"What *do* you want, Miss Monday?" Knives asked lazily.

Chai's breathing became regular again.  Quietly, she bent her knees
slightly to reclaim the gun she had dropped and the precious
cartridge.

Again, she shoved the ammunition case into her firearm, wincing at the
jolt, but not dropping the gun this time.

"Justice," she said softly, her lips a thin line of determination.
She looked down.

"There is a man, Knives," Chai said, voice suddenly grave.  "One man.
He... leads these people.  They all did something terrible.  It was a
long time ago, but I still want to make them pay."

She looked up at Knives then.  He noted something peculiar about her
eyes.  They were cold and lifeless-- uncharacteristically hard.

"They WILL pay, Knives," Chai promised.  "HE will pay.  For everything
he did to me."

Knives blinked, unconcerned.

"And the Walkins group and his new friend, Oda...?"

Chai finished loading her second gun.

"I'm gonna kill them all," she told him.

Throwing her coat on, Chai made her way to the door, limping slightly
at first and then correcting herself.  Outside, the storm had died out
completely, revealing the pitch black of night that had stolen onto
the horizon, plunging everything in darkness- the stars gave precious
little comfort and light against the smothering gloom.

Knives didn't even turn as Chai passed him.

"No, you won't," he told the leaving woman confidently.

Chai paused in her exit.  She listened for anything more Knives might
have to say.  Would he stop her?

"You didn't kill the two in the bar," Knives reminded her coolly.
"You haven't killed any of the gang members or leaders that you had
visited, even in other towns."

Oh.  That.

Chai seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Knives..."

The blonde man looked up.

"To put my bandages on," she started slowly, "you had to have my
clothes gone, didn't you?  Coat... vest... the long-sleeved shirt
underneath that... they all had to go, didn't they?"

Knives whirled around, slightly flustered at the sudden shift of
subjects.  He arched an eyebrow.

"You didn't do anything... funny, did you?" Chai asked him, turning,
hazel eyes half-lidded.

"Don't flatter yourself, and don't insult me," Knives said tonelessly.
"What kind of raving savage do you take me for?"

Chai peered at him curiously.

"You're not gay, are you?" she asked without preamble.

"Not in either sense, no," Knives frowned.  "And I told you not to
insult me."

"Fine then," Chai shrugged, smirking.  "Ja."

Turning again, she left.

Knives watched as the woman finally disappeared into the young
evening.  Seconds ticked by as Knives stayed still where he sat,
thinking.

He looked away and spat.

"Crazy kid."

**********

They had commandeered a mansion, she had heard from the locals-- that,
and a whole stock of alcoholic beverages.

The brightly-lit building was now visible beyond the steep sand dune
Chai was ascending.  Already, even from this distance, the still air
carried the crazed laughter from the house well.

Chai cocked her guns.

*****

"HERE'S TO LYNCH ODA!  HERE'S TO LYNCH ODA!"

Loud cheers followed the statement.  The gang's drinking session was
in full swing, with everyone either drunk or a good deal of the way
there.

Lynch Oda tipped another mug back and then bellowed laughter.

"Did you see 'em, huh!?  DID YOU SEE 'EM!?" he crowed, unmindful of
the beer that spilled onto his chest.  "They ran off like a couple of
scared coyotes!  AHAHAHAHHAAAAAAA!"

"I never would'a guessed," Paul smirked from behind Lynch, leaning on
a bar and working on a mug of his own.  "Mr. Millions wasn't so tough
after all.  He hardly put up much in the way of resistance at all.
Kinda makes me wonder how HE got to be the boss in the first place."

"YEAH!" a gang member yelled, throwing a fist into the air.  "Black's
our NEW boss now!  HERE'S TO THE NEW BOSS!  HERE'S TO BLACK... uhh...
what's the boss' last name again?"

The group cheered anyway, intoning Black's name repeatedly and loudly.

"BLACK!  BLACK!  BLACK!  BLACK!"

"Heh," Lynch said, closing his eyes and leaning back.  "Black's not so
hot."

The entire room slowly became silent at the statement.  Paul looked at
Lynch suspiciously.

"What do you mean, Sir Oda?"

"Just that," Lynch replied.  He opened his eyes to reveal that a manic
look had settled there.  "Black ain't so hot.  He's been sucking up to
that pussy Knives for so long, he doesn't *deserve* to be the leader,
not after *I* killed the wuss."

"So you're saying..."

"THAT'S RIGHT!" Lynch shouted, standing up full height.  He hurled his
mug down at the floor, where it shattered, scattering glass over the
marble surface.  The large man clenched his fists.  "*I* should be the
new boss!  FORGET BLACK!  WE can be the new top gang of the syndicate!
I say we find Black, kill him and all his friends, and then WE can
have the syndicate all to ourselves!"

Deafening cheers and roars followed the declaration immediately.
Lynch put his fists on his hips proudly, basking in his newfound
respect and glory.

"HERE'S TO LYNCH ODA!" the crowd cried.  "HERE'S TO THE NEW BOSS!"

Paul Walkins frowned- he didn't like this.  Not one bit.

The mansion doors slammed open.

"Enjoy it while you can, Lynch," came the icy voice from the shadows.
"I'm here to take you out."

Chai stepped into the light, guns drawn but pointing at the floor.  At
the sudden entry, every man present started to scramble for their own
weapons.  They didn't succeed at once, given their inebriated states.

Lynch saw the crude bandaging job that had been given to her arm.

"Hold it," Lynch told the others, raising an arm.  "Don't bother.  I
think I can handle this alone..."

The gang ceased arming themselves.  Lynch stepped up to face the
intruder, drawing himself up to full height.

"SO!... The shrew still lives, eh?" he cackled, arms folded, the
posture seeming to add to his already considerable size.  "And she's
decided to crash our little gathering!"

"Yes, she is, and yes, she has," Chai responded, eyes hateful.  "Nice
to see that you're willing to face a tired, wounded woman all by your
big, manly self, Mr. Oda."

Oda's face took on a look of patronizing sympathy.  "You don't still
want to fight us, do you?" he asked, mock hurt in his voice and face.
"Can't we just... forgive and forget?"

Behind, beside and all around him, uproarious laughter adjoined the
act.  Lynch grinned.

Chai's hat was slightly lowered, hiding her eyes.  "Draw your weapons,
Lynch," came the voice from underneath the brim.

"What?  But resorting to violence would be SO ungentlemanly and I-"

"Draw your guns, Lynch, or I swear, I'll shoot you where you stand,
you bloody insect of a man, you pathetic excuse for a warrior, you
two-faced doublecrosser with no shred of honor in his blackguard soul
whatsoever."

Lynch grimaced.

"I don't NEED a gun to kill you," he declared, crouching menacingly.

Chai shrugged.  "It's your life."

She started to raise her guns.

Before she could complete the move, however, Lynch had started his
own.  Chai looked up just in time to behold Lynch barreling at her at
speeds that should have been impossible for someone so large.

Reaction time significantly reduced by her wounds, Chai did her best
to lean away from the onslaught, favoring her injured side.  The
defense did little good-- Lynch crashed into the hapless woman, almost
plowing her asunder.

With a pained yelp, Chai hit the floor heavily, doing all she could
just to hold on to her weapons.  She rolled onto a side, breathing
heavily and trying to stand up.

Lynch looked down at her.

"Heh."

A powerful kick to the midsection sent Chai flying to the nearby wall,
which she slammed against with a bodily smack.  Dropping once again
onto the cold marble, Chai felt the dizziness attempt to conquer her
anew.

Angry red flowers had bloomed on the barely healing wound on her arm.

"Unngghh..."

"More, you say?  Glad to oblige," Lynch guffawed as he stepped over to
where Chai was lying.  He picked her up by the shoulders and pinned
her against the wall.  Chai winced at the rough treatment but held on
to her weapons tightly, despite the inability to use them properly.
Blood ran down one of them, staining the immaculate silvery steel.

"Hmmm... not a bad young thing we have here," Lynch nodded maliciously
at the woman he held, glancing suggestively at the rest of his crew.
Whoops from the populace crowned the observation, egging him on.

Lynch made a show of studying Chai's face closely.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt if we had a little... *fun* with you before we
feed your rotting carcass to the vultures, eh?"

*CRACK*

Chai had the strength enough for one kick after all.

As Lynch reeled backwards from the blow to his jaw, Chai barely
preserved her footing as she landed on the floor, arms flying upwards,
unmindful of the searing agony that violently objected to the
movement.  She was going to blow this guy to kingdom come so fast that
he'd--

Not fast enough.

Lynch recovered and rushed her just in time to shove one arm away and
push the other down just as the triggers were pulled.  A portion of
the shiny floor cratered; an unfortunate chandelier shattered, raining
shards of crystal onto the mansion occupants.

Lynch held both Chai's arms with a large hand and wiped the blood off
his lip.  Crimson fluids trickled down Chai's arm from her injury.

"You bitch..." Lynch snarled, finished looking at the damage caused
him and then grabbing Chai's chin to cup it with a calloused hand.
"I was willing to let you enjoy the last few hours of your sorry
little life... but I guess you just won't have it, huh?"

Chai looked away.  Lynch pulled her face back to look at him.

"Well, that's too bad," Lynch informed her, licking his lips.  "'Cuz
after what you did, you simply deserve this, girl."

Pushing her backwards, Lynch simultaneously took a firm hold of Chai's
vest underneath her green coat.  The brown fabric tore at the unkind
handling, causing Chai to fall backwards heavily and lie face up in
front of the door.

Lynch dropped the piece of cloth in his hand and approached.

"This is it then," Chai murmured weakly to herself as she heard the
footsteps and the vicious laughter draw closer and closer.  "I'm going
to be gang raped and then killed.  How splendidly... cliché."

A black form blocked the glare of the mansion lights from her eyes.
Chai looked up to see who or what it was.

"Hello, Miss Monday."

"Hello, Mr. Knives," Chai said groggily from her prone position on the
floor.  "Were *you* invited to this little party?"

"No," he answered, looking down at the woman, hands in pockets and
seeming unconcerned.  "I just came to check on you, that's all."

"Mmm," Chai groaned slightly, closing her eyes.  "So I'm worthy of
your attention now?  I'm flattered..."

"You should be," Knives replied just as Chai finally fell prey to
unconsciousness.

Knives looked up at the men shifting about.

"So... you're still alive too, eh?" Lynch smirked, taking his weapon
from the lackey who had hurriedly brought it to him.

"Yes, I am still alive," Knives answered.  "Which will be a lot more
than I can say for you after I'm through with you, you traitorous
little worm."

"What're ya gonna do?" Lynch challenged.  "Run away again?"

Without waiting for an answer, Lynch swung his bazooka up to bear on
the tall blonde man.  Point blank range.  The rest of his men took the
cue and started aiming.

Knives looked like he couldn't care less.

Lynch pulled the trigger.

**********

Or at least, he thought he did.

Beads of perspiration started to form on Lynch's brow.  He tried
again-- still nothing.  He tried to hold his weapon where he could see
it, check if it was jammed in some way.  He wasn't able to do it.  He
remained in the position he had taken seconds ago, shaking slightly,
movement indefinitely restrained somehow.

"I... I can't move!" he realized aloud, frightened.  "WHAT- WHAT'S
HAPPENING!?  I can't fucking MOVE!"  He began to panic.  His eyes shot
around like those of a caged animal.

Those around him were suffering a similar plight.  Every one of the
men had become living statues, seeing, breathing monuments without the
capacity for locomotion, only able to see and talk.

"SHIT!  What's going on!?"

"What the HELL is this!?"

"I can't move, dammit! I can't-"

The room fell silent.

Only Knives seemed to be unaffected.

Knives scratched at a temple distractedly.  He studied an imaginary
speck on his finger and went on with his impromptu grooming.  All the
while, Lynch watched him nervously.

Knives removed his gloves and brushed his hair back with his fingers.
After that, he put his gloves back on, paying attention to the
smallest detail, taking his time.

When Knives finished and took out his giant black revolver, Lynch
broke down and started babbling.

"Hehey, BOSS!  I didn't meant that stuff I said about being the new
boss!  Honest!" he rattled out desperately, eyes not leaving the slow,
lazy swings of the ebony firearm as Knives carefully looked at it from
every angle.  "I didn't even mean that stuff about Black being the new
boss earlier!  *YOU'RE* the real boss, not him!"

Done with his inspection, Knives opened the weapon and made sure to
see whether the chambers were full.

"Hey, remember the times when Black, Dennis, Hack, the others and I
were your bodyguard?" Lynch went on, sweating profusely as he sought
Knives' attention, clutching at straws.  "*I* was the one who worked
best, right?  YOU TRAINED ME YOURSELF!  YOU TRAINED ME!"

Knives flicked his wrist to secure the chamber housing.

"When you left to fight your brother, I believed that you would win!
*I* believed in you!"

*CACHLICK!*

"We weren't going to do NOTHING with the girl, *honest*!" Lynch
practically bawled as Knives made his way to the stationary giant.  "I
was drunk!  Black *made* me come here!  It... It was PAUL!  He's the
one who has a grudge on her!  ALL his men do!  Not me!"

Behind him, Paul Walkins' face crumpled in rage, about the only thing
his body could do at that particular moment.

Knives cocked his revolver and shot Lynch in the foot.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH-"

Knives shot the man in the other foot.

"SHITAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"

Knives shot Lynch Oda in the shoulder.

"AAAAHHHHhhhhnng-"

Knives shot him in the other shoulder.

"nnngggggGGRAAAHH-"

Knives shot him in the collarbone.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"

Knives raised his gun and regarded the incoherent lump of man standing
before him, leaking blood from the five separate holes Knives had made
in his body.  Lynch's eyes were all but bugging out, his mouth agape
and awash with saliva.  His face became pale as the his life's blood
slowly drained from him.

Knives stepped up closer and raised his gun to rest its muzzle just a
hair's breadth from Lynch's forehead.  Lynch trailed its beeline for
his brow and slowly started to shake his head in horror, only managing
to move his neck slightly to the sides.

"You're worthless," Knives told Lynch, still wearing an expression of
flat out boredom.  "Black is worthless.  Dennis is worthless.  Hack is
worthless.  You're *all* worthless.  You all make me sick.  Do you
know why?"

Knives went on, not expecting an answer.

"It's because I chose you for your worthlessness," Knives explained.
"You, my bodyguard.  I have surrounded myself with the most worthless
of the worthless.  My special assault team, The Gung Ho Guns?  They
were worthless, too.  And do you know why I picked the most worthless
of the worthless for *your* group?  The group that doesn't even have a
name?  Hm?"

Knives smiled, as if he were a father explaining a life truth to a
wayward child.

"It's because it's the worthless who consume the most, destroy the
most," he said, using a thumb to slowly pull the hammer back on his
black revolver.  The mechanism caught with a sharp 'CLICK'.  "And it's
the worthless who I can easily chew up and spit out after I'm done
using their worthless lives for my own, greater purposes.  Just like
Legato and The Gung Ho Guns.  Aaaaaall worthless."

Knives lifted his left hand and patted Lynch on the cheek.

"And you, my friend," Knives grinned, "are the most worthless of the
whole lot.  So much so, in fact that I don't think anyone else will
*ever* have a use for you except to waste precious resources and use
up everyone's air.  Everyone would be better off without you.  More
importantly, *I* would be better off without you."

A look settled into Knives' eyes, an almost bestial look that froze
Lynch to the core.

"Besides," Knives rumbled, grinning widely, "I haven't killed anyone
in ages.  I think it's about time I reduced the population of you
plant-eating monkeys again, don't you?"

Knives fingered the trigger.

Lynch went on shaking his head, mouth opening and closing, but with no
sound coming out.

Knives' smile vanished.

"Goodbye, Lynch," Knives told him.  "I can't say it was nice working
with you."

He cocked his revolver one last time.

"You... you worked with him?"

Knives turned to see that Chai had struggled to her feet, eyes shut
tightly at the exertion.  She was leaning on her bent knees, breathing
raggedly.

"How much did you hear?" Knives demanded, eying the woman warily.

"Enough.  Just that.  You worked with him?" Chai asked again, swaying
on her feet.  "Heh.  No wonder they know about you and what you can
do.  You must be pretty good.  I don't hear anything from the
others..."

Her legs finally gave way again, causing her to fall over, the beaten
woman at last releasing her guns.

"Don't... don't kill him, Knives..." Chai managed in an almost
inaudible voice.  "I... I only want the boss... don't... kill..."

That was as far as she got before being overtaken by the black.

Knives narrowed his eyes and turned to Lynch once again.  Knives
smiled.

"She's worthless too, you know," Knives told his captive matter-of-
factly.  "Nothing.  A plant-eating monkey just like you.  An inferior
human being.  Do you know why I'm saving her despite this?"

When he got no answer, Knives supplied the answer himself.

"It's because she's lucky," Knives said.  "Lucky that I had chosen on
an impulse to save her once.  Lucky that she amuses me.  Besides, I
spent some time fixing her arm up and I'll be damned if I let a
worthless parasite like yourself violate the object of my efforts.
*I* chose to save her, and that gives her a worth none of you have."

"Goodbye again, Lynch," Knives finished.

Lynch opened his mouth in a silent scream.

Knives jerked his weapon back suddenly, as if in recoil.

"BANG," he said, releasing Lynch from the invisible psi bonds that
were holding him.

The unseen restraints having been removed, Lynch fell backwards with a
pained cry, thudding wetly on the floor.  The rest of the captive
group were now mobile again as well.  They all blinked, all unsure of
what to do next, but all sure that they were now absolutely terrified
of the red and white-bodysuited man before them.

If man was even the right word for him.

Knives reloaded his gun casually and then returned it to its rightful
place by his hip.

Walking over, he picked up the unconscious woman and slung her arm
across his shoulders.  She hardly weighed anything at all for him--
Knives made his way to the open doors.

Chai's eyelids fluttered open momentarily, the brown eyes inside
slightly glassy in appearance, blank.

"Did... did you kill him, Knives?" she asked weakly.

"No," Knives replied, stepping out into the cold night.

"T... Thank you," Chai whispered and then fell asleep propped up by
Knives.

"Don't thank me," Knives said, though he knew that he wasn't being
heard.  "I didn't kill him, yes.  I didn't have to."

**********

"Oh, look.  Our fearless *leader* is awake," said the sneering voice.

"Wuh?"  Lynch looked up.  Paul Walkins and the rest of the men had
circled him and were now looking down at him.

"What was it that you said about the gang and I, Mr. Oda?" Paul said
coolly, twirling a shiny blade about.

"No... I can explain, Paul," Lynch hurriedly chattered through a
constricted throat.  His lips became dry and it was hard to talk.
"He... he was going to kill me, Paul!  He-"

"Hm, so I gathered," Paul said unsympathetically, feeling the tip of
his knife blade with a finger.  "Too bad he didn't actually do it,
though.  You're gonna have to *wish* he did, I'm wagering."

"NO!  PAUL!  DON'T- EEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"

**********

"He didn't say anything."

Chai adjusted her wide-brimmed hat to her liking.  She tapped her boot
heels on the boards behind her a few times to rid it of clinging sand
that might have stuck there.  A cursory inspection of her outfit
revealed nothing unusual or out of place.  She stretched.

"Not a word.  He just... came last night, left you here, and then he
was gone."

Chai nodded without turning to the old bearded man who was talking to
her.

"Didn't even say where he was headed," the oldtimer said thoughtfully,
rubbing at his chin.  "Curious one, he was.  The quiet type."

"Thank you, doctor," Chai said making the final checks on her things
before stepping out of the clinic door.  "I appreciate it."

"Oh, don't thank me," the old man said, smiling.  "I was just doing my
job.  The one *you* should thank is that man who brought you here.
Uh... did you know him, by any chance?"

Almost unconsciously, Chai was lightly stroking the arm that had been
injured the night before.  It was more or less fine now, bandaged by a
pro.  She dropped her hand to her side.

Chai looked down.  "No," she said, closing her eyes.  "No, I didn't."

"Hmmm... a good samaritan, eh?" said the old doctor, leaning back on
his seat.  "Well you were lucky he came along.  Very lucky indeed."

"I know," Chai answered, her smile slowly returning.  "I've always
been... quite lucky."

She stepped out into the light of the double-sunned morning.

"Thanks again, doctor.  Sayonara."

**********

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Knives is back and he's gonna be unstoppable.

I suppose I'm being a little presumptuous when I start this little
story arc involving the deadliest gunslinger in the Trigun continuity.
I've actually missed a few episodes, and I believe that I may very
well make serious contradictions to facts or moods previously
established by the series itself-- if, in fact, I haven't already.

Nevertheless, I firmly believe that the tale I have in mind will fit
in well enough with the rest of Trigun canon.  Besides, my door is
always open to those who would helpfully point out where it is that I
may go astray regarding Trigun history.  Feel free to send in your
corrections, editions, suggestions, violent objections, or maybe even
cash donations. :)

At any rate, Knives remains my favorite character in the anime.  Not
only is he more than Vash' match in armed combat (a matter that some
might find debatable), he doesn't show as much propensity towards
empathy and compassion as his twin.  This trait, while maybe not very
noble, is not so admirable inasmuch as it is downright freaking COOL.
Knives simply rocks-- a fact that rare appearances in the anime itself
actually managed to *enhance*, rather than blur.

Hmmm... I certainly hope you all liked Chai.  She WILL play a very
important part in all this and WILL appear quite often.  *I* like
her.  But if people labelled her an ANC-- Annoying New Character--
that would, you know, suck. ^_^;;;

Hope you enjoyed this episode.  Brace yourselves for Chapter Two.

-MtB
Started: June 2001
Completed: June 2001
Updated: March 2002

**********

In the desert, all time stops, all change grinds to a screeching halt.
Centuries... millennia... eons... the sands and the winds don't care.
Everything is as it was from time immemorial-- dying, dead and dusty.

Humanity is but a shadow on the surface of the desert planet-- a
temporal presence that flickers and dances to its own music, but is
devoid of reality.  Let the shadows dance-- the sands don't care, the
sands don't change.

Before long, the shadows will die, the light that generates them will
fade... and all will be as they were before.  Dying.  Dead.  Dust.

One shadow, however, stands amidst the unchanging dunes, young in
comparison to the sands, but incomprehensibly old to his fellow
shadows.

He is the unchanging shadow.

He is the shifting sand.

He is the abomination.

He is he who is destined to bring change to the sands and an end for
the shadows.

The red and white-suited man, Knives Millions looked back over his
shoulder at the town he was leaving behind... and smiled.

He was going to fulfill his destiny.

Soon.

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