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II. Traffic

Meryl Stryfe of the Bernardelli Insurance Society and her partner Millie Thompson worked on commissions. She worked in an important office in Morningstar City (also known as Grey City to many) and by God, she had worked to be respected. She was an important employee, highly valued, sent to insure a highly valuable man. If said man were to accept insurance, the company would benefit and so would she.

She was also stuck in the worst of the worst traffic the Grey City.

"Darn," she slammed her hands on the steering wheel. "Why now of all times?"

Millie climbed back into the car. Traffic flow being nonexistent she was able to run to the nearest drive-through and get breakfast. Neither had been able to eat a bite that morning, Meryl stopping by the Thompson residence early to rouse Millie out of bed. She remembered Millie's mother standing outside, holding a skillet full of bacon in one hand and wielding a spatula sword-like in the other. "Don't you want to stay for breakfast?" Ms. Thompson had asked, holding up the pan for emphasis.

"No, Ms. Thompson," Meryl said, pushing Millie in the direction of her bright white four-door sedan. "But I'll be here for dinner."

"Wonderful," Ms. Thompson said, "I'll set an extra spot at dinner table."

Now, two hours later, Meryl wondered if skipping breakfast with the Thompsons had been such a bright idea. Her mouth watered as she thought of crispy bacon, buttery scrambled eggs, and perfect coffee just the way she liked it with no cream and no sugar. Millie handed her a Styrofoam cup. Meryl held it up and inspected the logo. "McDonalds? What? No Starbucks?"

"Sorry Meryl," Millie apologized, "But this was all there was near us."

Meryl took a swig of the watery tasteless swill. Just as foul as ever which explained why the temperature of the coffee was beyond volcanic. Her poor tongue gave a burst of protest at being abused so. "It's not your fault," she wheezed as for the first time in thirty minutes the traffic moved.

Her partner took a sip of her orange juice before shoving her whole McGriddle sandwich into her mouth. "Well, it's no pudding," Millie said, which came out more like 'mumble mumble mumble'. She swallowed the entire sandwich down. It would have looked impressive only on a normal sized woman and Millie was a giantess. At least in proportion to her senior partner. "Ooh, look, Meryl," she said pointing, "Traffic is letting up."

"I see," Meryl said before patting the dashboard of her beloved car, "Come on, Thomas. Let's get us a commission."

The car's engine gave a few sputters before dying.

Meryl stared at the car as if trying to will it back to life by the sheer force of her will. Finally she turned off the car and tried to restart it again.

Nothing.

She looked up at the heavens and swore she heard God laughing.

ooo

Where his brother lived was known for being one of the worst sides of the city to live in. It was somehow both greyer and more polluted than the area he lived in. Vash sighed, not looking forward to that long drive. He sighed. The driver of the rented limo, Brad, happened to be one of his favorite drivers. Even if Brad thought Vash was shoehorning in on his girl. "I'm really glad you guys will pick me up, rain or shine." Nothing. Vash frowned, then cheerfully smiled, "I asked for you personally, since you are the best driver... ever."

Brad turned the rear mirror to see him better. "Look," he groused, "I don't do this because I like you, I do this because it pays good. Got me?"

"Crystal clear," Vash squeaked softly, keeping his gaze outside as Brad maneuvered the limo through morning traffic.

Something caught his eye. Two women, sitting on the hood of their car. A small one with short black hair and white clothes. Even her ankle length cloak, her sole item against the constant cold nip of the city was white. The giantess of a woman beside her wore clumsy men's attire that worked with her almost stringy looking hair. Shame she didn't brush it, she would have been prettier if she did. "Oh, oh, oh!" Vash tapped on Brad's shoulder while waving at the tinted window at the same time.

"What is it now?" Brad said, trying to ignore Vash. He already had to deal with his crush Jessica babbling how Vash was God's gift to the world. He really didn't need to deal with Vash himself.

"Stop the car! Stop the car!" he then paused, thought about it for a minute and continued, "Stop the limo! Stop it now!"

"And why should I?" Brad snapped back, feeling both snarky and ill at ease.

"Because I pay your salary!" Vash raged enough to make Knives proud, as he pounded on the dividing glass. Normally made to withstand bullets, it crumbled under Vash's touch.

The limo stopped a few seconds later.

ooo

Meryl had many ideas on how her day would get worse. Comet could come down and crush them all. One of the hidden weapons under her cape would fall loose followed by the other forty-nine Derringers. Millie would talk to the wrong person and be a little too honest. Limo for no reason would stop and back up to meet them. Oh great, she thought as she dusted off the skirt of her dress and black tights, just what I needed. Someone thinking I'm homeless.

One of the tinted windows in the back rolled down and he stuck his head out. She didn't know who He in question was save that he had bright green eyes behind yellow tinted sunglasses and blonde hair which for some reason he decided to brush straight up into a hairstyle that made heavy use of hair-gel. And he had an earring and from what Meryl could see of him, he was wearing a red coat. Methodically she stored all this information away in her head and prepared her best greeting in question.

Millie on the other hand beat her to it. Bouncing up and down in a way that no one would expect a woman of her size to do, she chirped, "Wow, Mister, you have a big and nice shiny car. Do you have a phone in there? My partner and I... well our car broke down and..."

Meryl sighed, "You do not need to give our information to a complete stranger."

Trust Millie to strike up a conversation with someone she barely knew. Then again, Millie's habits were why she had the younger woman as a friend. "Why don't we have introductions?" she asked, looking from the smiling young man to Meryl and back again.

Meryl straightened herself to her full and yet not impressive height. "I am Meryl Stryfe and this is Millicent..."

"Millie."

"Millie," Meryl corrected, glancing at Millie quickly, "Thompson. We are members of the Bernardelli Society and we are in a very big jam which I doubt that you could handle."

"And what is this situation?" the man asked, flipping up his shades before blowing a quick bubble. What kind of man had a beauty mark anyway? she found herself asking. "You sure I can't help?"

"Not unless you have a phone in there," Meryl began, but Millie once again piped up.

"Excuse me for asking, but do you know a Mister Vash Saverem? Mister Bernardelli asked us to give him an insurance policy."

The man actually stuck his whole upper torso out the window. "Know him?" he chirped, eyes wide with obvious interest as he cracked his gum, "I am him!"

Meryl gave "Vash" a rather doubting looking. "You sure?"

"I am," he insisted, withdrawing back into the limo, "But are you sure you are just going to sit around there with your busted car all day? I mean I can call a tow truck, but I don't think you would want to wait the six hours it takes to get here."

"Six hours," Millie repeated as she looked at her senior, "Ma'am, I need to eat and go tinkle during that time."

Meryl sighed, "Fine. But make any wrong moves and I swear to god, you'll rue the day you were born a man."

The door opened. "That's a word I haven't heard people use in awhile," Vash said, "Rue. You must read a lot. Though I never met a woman with derringers in her cape. Nice tough." He grinned. "That goes double for your friend's stungun."

Stunned, Meryl climbed into the limo. She could hear her partner say, "Wow, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

...to be continued.