-124-
the Middle of Nowhere.
Millie- //thinking// We’re headed north-west.
the bus makes it’s slow, lonely way towards Somewhere straight as the crow flies, tires kicking up a cloud of sand that just adds to the haze of the stinkin’ hot day.
Millie- //thinking// It’s another 2000km to Augusta. My fanny’s killing me, and I really, really want a cup of tea.

#18 A Gathering of Devils

TRIGUN

-125-
endless sand, bumped only by the occasional rock, slides past Vash’s blank gaze, but he doesn’t see any of it. instead, he watches and re-watches a single, minute-long scene:
//flashback//
Vash- From this second on, I am coming after you!!
who knows how many hundreds of meters apart they were, but Legato’s expression is etched clearly in Vash’s mind’s eye; those not-quite-right eyes growing just a little wider, the flat line of the mouth curving up, smile widening enough to show the edge of teeth-- “go ahead and try” that face said.

-126-
an involuntary shudder runs down Vash’s spine and he sits up from the windowsill.
Vash- //thinking// There was nothing sane in that face.  That guy’s gotta be 26 cards short a full deck. Still…
warm summer sunshine, the quiet bustle of a busy town square, and a sudden cold wind wearing a white coat float into Vash’s mind.
Vash- //thinking// I couldn’t draw on him back in that town square.  We were in the middle of a crowd of innocents… no, that’s just an excuse… His eyes were beyond bottomless-- it was like looking into outer-space.  There was no way to read his skill-level.

-127-
Vash- //muttermutter// I was just this feeling in my gut that if I so much as twitched, the gates to an unimaginable hell would open up right under my feet.  It was only a hunch, really, but one I knew was right. ……y’know, now that I actually think about it, that’s really freakin’ scary!  What the heck was I thinking, picking a fight with a guy like him?  It’s not funny!
Freaked Out Passenger 1- You’re the one who isn’t funny! ::you jinxing someone?!::
~.~;;
I pity the poor folks sitting around Vash.  he’s been at this for quite some time, apparently.
Vash- nn?
maybe something flashed briefly, or moved, or heck, maybe it was just some bump that was shaped more strangely than another, who knows.  Whatever it may be, it caught Vash’s eye.  much to the continued trauma of the passengers around him, he stands bolt upright with a clatter.
Vash- AHA!!!
Freaked Out Passenger 1- Now what?!
::Freaked Out Passenger 2- Yipes!::

-128-
way out deep in Central Middle of Nowhere, there is a man. hark haired and dressed in black, with only a little white around his open collar, he kneels in the sand.  head bowed, it almost looks like one knee just gave out, and he’d sunk into an involuntary kneel.  leaning against his back is an enormous cross, one that would be almost as tall as the man, were he standing.  it’s wrapped in off-white canvas cloth, a myriad of dark leather straps buckled around it, holding the canvas in place.
ladies and gentlemen-- enter Wolfwood.

-129-
it’s the Bus Driver who comes close enough to poke at Wolfwood’s prone form, most everyone else staying close to the bus parked a few dozen yards distant.
Bus Driver- Looks like he planned how he was going to fall.  Hello~~~?  You still alive?
Wolfwood- Th-- thank God… I’m saved…!

-130-
::glugglugglugglugglug::
leave water in a canteen long enough (say… 2 minutes) and it starts to taste really, really bad, especially once it starts getting warm.  given how quickly Wolfwood downs the whole canteen, he probably isn’t tasting it.
Skeptical Passenger 1- So you’re telling me that you’ve been walking since your bike broke down, no hitched rides at all?  And you had that massive thing on your back the whole time…?
Wolfwood- Merchant’s pride, man.  I could hardly leave it behind.
Skeptical Passenger 1- You’re a merchant?
Wolfwood- Yep.  I’m a priest!

-131-
the Passenger pauses for a second, blinking.
Skeptical Passenger 1- The ministry isn’t a business.
Skeptical Passenger 2- And that getup of yours can hardly be called a priest’s frock, either.
Wolfwood- Lord, I am reminded anew of how prejudice and stereotype fill this world.
instead of pressing the point, Wolfwood ignores those poor, prejudiced fools, instead turning to Meryl and Millie, seated nearby.
Wolfwood- I owe you ladies one.  I’d be getting an appointment with St. Peter about now if you two hadn’t spotted me out there.
Meryl- It wasn’t us who found you.  We just convinced the bus driver to stop.  The one who picked you out at that incredible distance is sitting over there.
smiling, Millie points at Vash, who’s trying to be inconspicuous back in his seat.

-132-
Wolfwood’s eyes widen the second he sets eyes on Vash, and he dashes up to where the other gunman is seated.
Wolfwood- Y-- you! You’re Va---
Vash slaps a hand over Wolfwood’s mouth.
Wolfwood- ---aff fa ftamfeed!
the most dangerous words muffled, Vash lets Wolfwood breathe, this time standing one finger in front of his own mouth in a shushing gesture.
Vash- Keep it down, will you?  I don’t want any hoopla.
Wolfwood- I see wanted posters of you all over!
Vash- Tha-- that was ages ago!  ::The bounty’s long gone.::
Wolfwood- Spiky blond hair, red coat… why doesn’t anyone notice?  I mean, it’s obvious!

-133-
Wolfwood- Ah well.  Life ain’t all bad breaks, now is it.  Oh, right.  I’d better introduce myself.  Name’s Wolfwood.  M’pleasure.
Wolfwood sticks his hand out, a pleasant smile on his face.  Vash stares at the other man skeptically for a long second.  the hand shows no sign of pulling back, so Our Resigned Hero heaves a sigh and takes it.  the way Wolfwood’s face splits into a huge grin, you’d think he’d just been handed a check for $$60 billion.  he pumps Vash’s arm like it’s one of those old-fashioned water pumps.
Millie- Sempa~~i… He looks really happy…
::Meryl-   -_-;;  ::

-134-
uhm, well… alright then.  moving on.  in Jeneora Rock, the rumble of diesel engines reverberates off of every house wall and the ground almost hums with it.  an unholy huge number of trucks start parking anywhere they want in town, clogging almost all the lower streets.
Irked Resident 1- Christ, what a racket!  Who are those jerks?
Irked Resident 2- Isn’t it just another caravan?
Irked Resident 1- Hold it…!  Look at the flag!
a grizzly skull, snake and sword emblem decorates every one of the numerous flags flown by the truckers.
Irked Resident 2- The Roadwreck Slavers!

-135-
Irked Resident 1- You think they’re after him?
Irked Resident 2- After he killed that many of them?  Of course they are!
a droopy faced, skinny man with a scar ripping down across one eye strides into the Sheriff’s office like he owns it.  inside is the very mangled corpse of the Boss Meathead from the other day.
Scar- Captain… Such a terrible death.
he slides his eyes over to the fuzzy-bearded Sheriff, standing nearby.
Scar- What excuse do you offer me, Sheriff?  I find it… odd that you haven’t arrested the bastard responsible for this tragedy.

-136-
Sheriff- According to every witness at the saloon, that man never raised a---
a heavy-bladed knife thoks into the wall by the Sheriff’s head.  he shuts up quickly.
Scar- ……Are you slow in the head?  Do you expect me to believe that they all just up and shot each other?  You must learn to tell better lies.  In the meantime we will do things our way.
Sheriff- But… wait---
the droopy-faced Scar ignores him, turning to the horde of meatheads waiting in the wings.
Scar- You have 15 minutes to bring me the blue haired-man in a white coat!  I want him alive, so he can scream while he’s dismembered!
Meatheads- Yessir!!

-137-
the trucks engines having been shut off, this time it’s the thud of heavy boots that rings off the stone walls of Jeneora Rock.  who knows how many dozens of meatheads storm through the streets, guns drawn, shoving their way into every shop, hotel and home.  they open every closet, check under every bed and look out on every roof.  the residents can do nothing but get out of the way.

-138-
the skinny, scar-faced man --apparently the new Boss Meathead-- stands back and watches, gloating.
Scar- The dumb bastard.  He’s about to find out just how far in over his head he is.
Legato- Quite a number of men.  Are you perhaps planning on moving somewhere?
you gotta give the guy credit for not jumping three feet straight up when Legato’s quiet voice whispers so close to his ear.  instead, Scar just whips around, his eyes as wide as saucers.  he’s somehow terribly surprised to find the object of his search standing nonchalantly right next to him.
Scar- ………!! Blue hair… white coat… … You’re him!

-139-
Legato- You’ve been searching for me?  Ah.  Companions of the bugs I squashed yesterday, correct?
that comment earns him a whole bunch of nasty stares.  hammers clack and safeties come off, substantially more than a handful of automatics pointing in his direction.  Legato doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Legato- I give you the choice of two destinations; “home” or “Hell”.
all the meatheads snicker.  one lone guy against a horde of heavily armed thugs?  I mean, which way would you think the fight’s going to go?
Legato- I shouldn’t have bothered.  As you wish then. Di---
he stops mid-word, almost as if he’d just remembered something he’d forgotten…

-140-
…and then he shifts his attention off into the distance.  the crowd around him look at each other in confusion.  this blue-haired creep should be petrified of them, not ignoring them.
Legato- You’ve arrived, I see.
the meatheads’ confusion deepens.
Scar- Who the hell is he talking to?
Legato- Excellent timing.  Show me what you are capable of.  Of all the brigands here, KILL HALF.

-141-
there’s a second or so of silence after that proclamation, the meatheads now really unsure of what to do.  no begging, whimpering or outright fear from their prey seems to have taken some of the wind out of their sails.
not that it matters, really.  there isn’t anything they could have done, even if they did have their act together.
all of a sudden, there’s a thud and one of their number goes pin wheeling through the air, blood splurting from his body-- a very “sprinkler-gone-mad” sort of picture.  while everyone gapes at that, another one of their number starts screaming…and another… and another…
Scar’s eyes get wider and his face goes paler with every one, a cold little thought niggling into the corner of his mind.  maybe he’s the one who’s about to find out how far in over his head he is.

-142-
well beyond the reach of dying screams a bus stops at a teeny little town, one with only a single Plant, a couple houses and a diner.

-143-
a piddling amount of cash tumbles out onto the ground.  Wolfwood gives his change purse a little shake, to make sure everything’s out.
Wolfwood- 1... 2... 3... 4... Crap.  Any higher and I’ll starve to death.  Don’t you have any special discounts or something, Mr. Driver?
Bus Driver- ::sigh:: Okay, okay.  $$80.  How’s that?
Wolfwood- You mean it?  I owe you, man!  Big time!  Oh, I know!
ka-plunk.
a church --shrunk down to about the size of a bread box-- gets dropped over the Bus Driver’s head.
Bus Driver- What the--!?  What’s this?
Wolfwood- Portable Confessional.  They had whole confessional rooms back in Earth churches, y‘know.  This is the mini-size.

-144-
Wolfwood- You’ve gotta have something on you’re conscience, right?  Petty sins, bad thoughts… you know.  You helped me out so this time’s free, ‘kay?  Go ahead!
Bus Driver- …I’ll pass.
he gets up and starts wandering off. ahighly disappointed Wolfwood pouts after him.
::Wolfwood- Aw c’mon!  Don’t be so cold!::
::Bus Driver- Food time.::
from a short distance away, Vash watches amused, despite himself.
Vash- Not easy going, I see.  Is this part of your training?
Wolfwood- Oh heck no.  Been out of training for ages.  This is my job.  My church runs this orphanage, y’see.  They take in orphans from nearby and eek out a living together.

-145-
Wolfwood- Grew up there myself, actually.  Now that I’m out, it’s technically not my business anymore, but, y’know, I couldn’t get them out of my head.  So I’m saving up money to help them out.
Vash- Saving money, as a priest?
Wolfwood- Mostly.  I do… other jobs, too.  Whatever it takes…
two scruffy looking street urchins sidle up towards Wolfwood, looking at him with big eyes. …they obviously didn’t see his exchange with the Bus Driver a few minutes ago. ^.^;

-146-
neither child says anything, but one reaches out a plaintive hand.  Wolfwood had been walking with Vash, but… Vash stops shortly later, realizing Wolfwood’s not beside him anymore.
Wolfwood- Uh-oh.  Hang on a sec, here.
Vash- Sorry, kids.  He doesn’t have any money---
he trails off as Wolfwood upends his change purse for the second time in under 10 minutes.  only three slim coins plop onto his palm.

-147-
Wolfwood squats down to eyelevel with the two urchins, coins held out in front of him.
Wolfwood- Here’s the deal. This is all I’ve got unfortunately. So, one…
he points at the boy…
Wolfwood- …is for you. One…
he points at the girl…
Wolfwood- …is for you. The last one…

-148-
he points to himself.
Wolfwood- … is for me.  It ain’t much, but do we have a deal?
the two kids faces light up in bright smiles and both carefully take their allotted coin.  they don’t pause for any thank-yous, they just dash off into the crowd.  Wolfwood waves as they go.

-149-
Vash simply watches, a smile on his face, for all the world looking like his normal cheery self.  Wolfwood looks at him.
Vash- Hm?
Wolfwood- Well whadaya know.  You can smile like that.
Vash- Huh?  Smile like what?
Wolfwood- I was worried about you for a minute there, what with that “I love the world” grin on your face all the time.

-150-
Wolfwood- A smile so empty it hurts.  That’s what I saw.  You’re in so much pain inside it ain’t funny, but you can’t let the world see that, so you put on a smiling mask.  But sometimes it slips… like it did a minute ago.

-151-
::rmbl::
in perfect timing to completely crush the developing serious atmosphere, Wolfwood’s stomach decides to add it’s two cents to the discussion.
::RMBLRMBL GRUMRUMMGRWL::
…a very vociferous two cents it is, too.
Wolfwood- aaah, uhm… ehehe.. Hehe… hehehe…
he looks pleadingly at a rather exasperated Vash.
Vash- ::SIGH::  Alright, alright.  I get the hint.  Join me for lunch, Wolfwood?  My treat, of course.
Wolfwood- Really?!  Great!  I knew there was a reason I liked you!

back in Jeneora Rock, life isn’t going so well for Scar.  actually, that he still has a life is about the only thing he has going for him, really…

-152-
he hasn’t moved from the spot where Legato found him, probably because fear made his legs give out.  quavering in his arms hasn’t subsided enough to let him get up, yet.
Legato hasn’t moved, either, but for entirely different reasons.  behind him towers a pile of corpses, easily twice his height.
Legato- You might be wondering why I had only half of you killed.  The reason is very logical, really.

-153-
Legato- Somebody has to deal with the remains.  You’ll make a profit at the organ factories today, Mr. Slaver.  Take them, and get lost.  That you aren’t a piece of that pile was simple whimsy on my part.
and, to Legato, Scar is dismissed from the picture.  what he does and where he goes are no longer of concern, so long as he’s very far a way, very fast.  he turns to the small gathering of individuals who finally make their appearance.
Legato- Excellent work, gentlemen.

-154-
a hunched and masked man with no legs to speak of, only two thick, tough looking arms.
a long haired woman in a pale long coat with a patch over her right eye.
a giant, dressed in black leather and with a little head and wide oval eyes that look vaguely like an alien.
a mousy man in glasses with a bowler hat and a Hitler-esque mustache.
a kid in a bandana, with eyes that aren’t quite human.
a top-knotted man in a kimono, with a fringed western vest over top.
a man in a sharp white suit, rings on his fingers and an instrument case in his hand.
Midvalley- This hardly constitutes a warm-up, Legato-sama.  We’d appreciate 5 times this number next time.

Gathering of Devils/ END

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