Categories > Anime/Manga > Trigun > Plants in the City

Freed Bird Fly

by lilithisbitter 1 review

The world is full of meetings and partings. See Wolfwood. See Wolfwood crash. Crash Wolfwood, crash.

Category: Trigun - Rating: R - Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Humor, Sci-fi - Characters: Chapel, Doc, Knives, Legato, Meryl, Midvalley, Millie, Vash, Wolfwood - Warnings: [!!] [?] [V] - Published: 2005-10-29 - Updated: 2005-10-30 - 3544 words

Author's Notes: This chapter took awhile to put out with school work and other matters. I'll post a more edited version later, but in the meantime, enjoy.

XI. Freed Bird Fly

For a second I could hear a small childish voice coo in my head. It almost seemed gleeful. The rest faded away.

It took me a minute to figure out that was the Plant speaking her thoughts and somehow for a second I had hear them. The Plant fluttered her tiny wings, cupped her breasts, and gave me a blood-smeared smile before dragging the tiny dog corpse as well as the corpse of the other plant back into the core. The liquid inside the core promptly turned pink.

"The Grey City smells like rust in the evening," I said to myself, enjoying another cigarette. When lung cancer finally comes along, I decided I would be ready.

Or maybe it's just blood.

Or maybe my nose was finally giving up and I really couldn't tell anymore. But this section of the city smelled like flowers, expensive food, and bad expensive aftershave. All the stuff I can't afford and more. All the stuff that seemed to mock me. Buy us, Wolfwood, they call to me and I answer them by telling them to bite me. God, I hate being poor.

"So are you thinking or just trying to take a dump?" a sugary voice said behind me.


Damn it all to hell.

"Do you know how transparent you are?" he asked, waving a hand in front of my face.

I glowered at him. "No," I finally said, drawing the word out as long as I could with my lungs of tar and soot. "But I assume you're going to tell me."

Elendira fluttered his eyelashes. Maybe he was trying to be coy or some shit like that. I didn't know. I certainly didn't care. "Anyway," I said, puffing smoke in his face, "I thought you were going to leave... in fact... I thought you left."

"Oh," Elendira said, nose wrinkling in disgust, "Do you have to blow that foul cheap thing in my face?"

I grinned and leaned forward to puff some more smoke in his face. There was something about the way his face wrinkled that made my shitty day seem a little more bearable. Before I could even puff, Elendira was behind me. Elendira had pinned my arms behind me, a knee wedged painfully in my crotch, and was directing my still lit cigarette to one of my nostrils. "Puff that thing in my elegant face one more time... just one more time... I dare you."

Despite the pain in my shoulders and groin, I had to add one more insult. Perhaps I was the biggest idiot in the world. "I just have to ask you one thing."

Elendira's lips peeled back and he scowled. "What?"

"Do you put your make up with a puffy thing or do you cake it on with a trowel?" I grinned, "Come on, smoking ministers are dying to know."

He stomped on my foot, I cursed and backed away like a fucking jackrabbit on crack. My foot hurt, my nose felt a little singed, and most of all I was sure my pride was wounded. My ego was just fine and decided to laugh at my pride's predicament. Meanwhile it asked my libido to join in and they all played cards and went out for pizza. The end. I wish.

"Listen here," Elendira said, holding me up and pressing me against a wall, "We're setting up something big... really big... got that."

"Got it," I croaked, my eyes focused on all ten nails. "Crystal."

Light exploded behind my eyes. I think at one point I nearly blacked out, because the next thing I remember seeing were Vash's gloved fingers snapping in my face. "Hey." Snap. "Are you." Snap. "All right?"

Snap, snap, snap. "Are you all right? Good, you're still breathing." Snap, snap. "Respond, will'ya?" God, I was getting irritated. So irritated the next time he moved to snap, I stuck his fingers up his nose. "Oh really mature, Wolfwood," he said, only it came out "Doh, bearry baturu, Ufuud." But let's not argue semantics. It's annoying enough. He pulled his fingers out his nose, "Do you have anything better to do than to stick other people's fingers up their nose?" He stopped and pointed at something above my shoulder, "Do you have to bring that thing everywhere?"


Yeah, wonderful communication skill we got going there, Nicky, one of the nuns from my childhood might say and crack a ruler over my fingers. These weren't ordinary nuns. No siree. These were nuns you would fear for life. Nunzilla. They might have put the fear of God into me but I was cynical. Besides, if you knew their vision of god, well... never mind.

"Cross Punisher," he said and pulled me to my feet.

I had to shake a ton of snow out of my hair and suit. It was grey, just like the... well damn. I didn't remember taking Cross Punisher out of the closet this morning. Okay, Wolfwood, I told myself, remember that woman with the eye patch who disappeared without a trace? "That has to be it."

"What has to be it?" Vash asked me. Damn, hadn't realized I had said that out loud. Yeah, real smooth move there, Nick. "Let's face it, Wolfwood... you've gone senile." He smirked. For some reason Vash was really good at being a smartass.

"Senile? Senile? Who's the senile one, you century old excuse for a Plant? Obviously once you get past the hundred year mark the memory is first to go."

"Obviously you're the one if you're slipping up on insults like that!"


"Cigarette breath!"

"Is that supposed to hurt? Girl faced!"

"Hawk nose!"




Vash blinked, "That was a low blow, Wolfwood. A real low blow."

I snorted and lit up a cigarette, "Want me to go lower, Tongari? I can if you wa-"

"No," he said, shaking his head and waving his arms at the time, "Oh, heavens, no. No way. That lush comment... I don't want to see what's lower." Vash tilted his hand and patted something under his jacket next to his hip, "Besides, I've got enough problems of my own."

"Nice gun," I said.

For someone whose supposed to be a "pacifist to end all pacifists" Vash was a bit, well let's say paranoid. He was highly trained in firearms and could lay any historical gunslinger low. Sure, I'm bragging about my friend, but don't let him hear me say it. He'll whine and cry about how I emphasis his worst feature.

Vash looked down at the gun-shaped lump and pulled it away to reveal the gunbelt he now wore. "What was I supposed to do? Turn down my brother's gift?"

"Custom handgun?" I snorted out a cloud of smoke, "In your case I would say yes."

"How did you know it was a custom?" he sputtered, pulling his jacket closed again.

I shrugged. Not like I needed to do anything more. "Lucky guess, really?" And I really was guessing. Honestly, I was.

"That's a real good guess," he rubbed his arms and sneezed, "Can we go inside before we freeze to death? It's not on my to do list."

"Maybe it's on mine."

He sniffed, "Idiot. I know it's not on yours. There's a winter storm warning out. Did you hear the Blizzard warnings?" He shivered. "Supposed to be the worst ever in a decade."

Paranoid as ever, Vash. I was about to argue that we should just stay out here and chat when the wind blew out my cigarette. I stared at the dead end and tried to light up again. Between the wind and my shitty lighter, I couldn't even get a spark. "Yeah," I said, "I'm game. Let's go inside."


So how did a person like me meet a twit like Vash? Well, it's a good story actually. I really don't have time to tell this and if you knew the situation I was in, you would understand completely. You know... why a guy like me who obviously can't afford anything won't take anything from Mr. Rich Trust Fund. Well, that's a good question and it has an even better answer.

Three years ago, I had gotten my hands on a motorcycle. One of those legendary ones, can't remember the name off the top of my head. I think it started with an h. Well, that doesn't really matter, does it?

So, the morning after I got the motorcycle, I went out to take it for a drive. I was going up to sector one and tear through that park that's up there and scare rich folk as they padded along in their coats and walked their tiny dogs that could fit in a tearcup, also into thick coats along with these little bootie things. Like the dogs ever walked around. They would walk around the park until the little dog started yelping. Then they would snap their fingers, their servants would dig a little hole in the ground so the dog could do its do, and then they would go on. I could imagine the looks on their face as I rode by.

"Bring us back presents!" the orphans at St. Mark's told me as I got ready to the start the motorcycle in the front yard.

"I don't think that would be possible," one of the nuns sniffed, "How could he carry anything on that beastly machine?" Several of the others nodded in agreement. "Honestly, Father Wolfwood, you're setting a bad example for the orphans."

I adjust my sunglasses. The open road was before me and I had all day to explore. "Ah come on, Sister Carol Mary," I said flipping them up, "I'm sure that these kids have seen worse than a motorcycle."

Sister Carol Mary looked at me with her bottle-lensed glasses. She was a small thing, all wrinkled like old food (which described most of the stuff in my fridge and come to mind, still does describe the stuff in my fridge). "You're a Heck's Angle on wheels."

The kids giggled as Livio and the nuns herded them back instead. "Don't you mean Hell's Angels?"

She popped me on the head. "Despite you being a minister," Sister Carol Mary said, "We will not allow such a filthy mouth in our midst."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, looking at the window. "I'll be sure to clean it up a little bit. But just for the record, I make no promises."

The orphans had their noses pressed to glass as if expecting something. I smiled and waved. Suddenly, right on cue, twenty-five tongue stuck on and pressed against glass. It was their way of saying "We better get presents or else!" Or maybe, they were just being typical kids, which was good, meant my job was done.

"Make no promises again," she repeated, swatting out at the bike, "I can guarantee that your stuff will be in the trash by the next pick up."

So, I took a joyride across the city. I had no reason to do it, but I guess it's a good way of relieving stress. Hell, there are worse ways to do so. And aside from smoking and a little nip here and there, I wasn't going to do most of them.

I ended up near the boundary between the sector three biodome and sector one. It was an okay neighborhood, if you liked old houses. Personally, I've never seen what was so hot about them in the first place. So I rode around the biodome. It was a large steel bump in the middle of the city. Would have been pretty cool if it had been glass, then I could peer in, I decided.

But then, what good would that do for me. The domes are close to impossible to get in for someone like me of course. And what I was doing was illegal as well. Well, I had a good idea that it probably was. But, hell, I was going to do it anyway. Better to spend a night in slammer than not to.

Looking back, it probably was a bad idea. Maybe that bike had been set up to fail. Maybe I was just a bit full of myself, but for whatever reason, I was trying to do a trick and the thing skidded across the ice on the street.

I tried to control the bike, but damned thing brush against a stack of crates. I could feel splinters entering my skin, but thought nothing of it. I was thinking something along the lines of "Why didn't you buy a helmet, you idiot? You stupid, stupid mess up."

The bike skidded again, but I was too busy trying to control the dang thing to see where I was going. Truth of the matter was I didn't care as long as I somehow stopped. I wanted it to go right, the bike went left. I say no, it said, "Go faster? Sure."

After a few seconds (minutes?), I finally got it out of the spin. I laughed. I had faced the road and one. Confidently, I looked up to see a fast approaching wall. Oh, shit, I said to myself, because I knew it was going to hurt.

I know that they say when you go through something like that you blackout. I dunno, but I've never had anything like that happen to me. The instant the bike hit the wall, I knew that this was the moment of truth. I leaned back, planted my feel against the handlebars of the bike and pushed back. I guess it was either the shockwave, me, or both, but I managed to fly across the alley into a pile of snow covered trashbags.

"Uggg, my head," I groaned and wiped at my mouth.

No blood, that was good. The world was bits of light. I lay there for a few seconds wondering if I somehow got one of those head injuries. Finally, I shifted, and the shattered remains of my sunglasses fell down my nose. I wasn't too badly hurt... which was good. Unless...

You hear about it the time in horror stories. The guy survives a horrible accident and has only a couple of bruises and cuts. So, he goes home to see his wife and his wife screams because he's a hideous bloody corpse. Or there's the variation where he dies and everyone ignores him because he's a ghost. Well, I wasn't just going to walk home. I was going to walk up to what remained of my bike and I was going to look for the corpse that used to be me.

"Shit, shit, shit... that's some wreck."

My motorcycle had left a crater in the wall as well as a burn mark. Maybe that burn mark was me. So I poked the spot and kicked around in the snow around the wreckage. No corpse, no body parts.

"Fact remains," I said to myself, lighting a cigarette, "You escaped death, Nick. You're a luck guy."

All that I got in return was the caws of a few thin vultures. I was most definitely alive if animals responded to me. Or maybe animals just responded to ghosts. "You're being a fool, Nick. A hell of a fool."

My watch was smashed beyond repair. It was a cheap one anyway. But as for me, I took a look at a nearby sign. Great, just, great. 99 miles from home. Give or take a couple of iles. "But are you going to let a thing like that stop you?" I asked myself. The answer was a definite no. "Right, so you're gonna walk on home. Right now."

My next step took me right on the patch of ice that killed my bike.

"Ugh," I groaned from my position on the ground. "This is gonna be harder than I thought."


"Wanna beer?" Vash asked as he unlocked the door to his penthouse. My mouth dropped open once again. You never really get quite used to a place like that. "I picked up some later."


"Depends on what?" he asked, dusting snow off his coat sleeves.

I could give him the nice answer or the jackass answer. "Well?" he asked, trying to mimic my accent.

Ahh, Vash, you pushed me to it. Jackass answer it is. "Depends on if you drank them all or not."

He produced to glare a me, "Wolfwood, you are such..."





"Son of a bitch?"

"No," Vash said and looked offended, "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

If I could, I would light up, and blow smoke in his face like he hated. "No, but I kiss yours with it."

"You wouldn't want to kiss my mother."

Vash tossed me a beer from his fridge. Even though I wasn't gonna take any of his immortal Plant charity, bumming beers and hanging out at his place didn't qualify. I popped it open and tossed the bottle cap at his head. He dodged, but it bounced off a wall and landed in his hair. "Which one?"

He winced. "Do you really want to know?" He picked the bottle cap out of his hair. "Either one is bad enough.

I swigged my beer. This was awkward. "Uh, now you're starting to make me feel guilty."

Vash grinned, broadly. "Maybe that's a good thing after all," he said.

"You're the jackass... jackass." Damn, was obviously loosing my touch.

Vash walloped me on the head with my own beer bottle. God, I hated when he did that. He started chuckling. "Right, like that really bothers me."

I started grasping at straws. "Your mama!"

"Like that really works," Vash said, swiping my beer for himself, "Besides, I buy this beer. What do YOU buy?"

I thought about it for a couple of seconds. "That bag of chips," I said, pointing at said bag.

"Which came from money you borrowed from me..."

"Don't ever start."

He did. "Cheapskate. Let's see if I tell you about my day."

Okay, I didn't want to know about his day. It ends up one way. He ends up bawling like a little whiny baby. And we're not talking the occasional tear, you've got a valid reason, I feel sympathy for you. We're talking Livio-the-eternal-crybaby-style whining complete with clingness. Damn, you think he'd figure out what "Get off me before I run you into a nearest wall" meant after the first one hundred times. One time he clung to me, whining how "they" had been mean to me, so tightly that he cracked some of my ribs. See what I put up with this guy?

"Why would I want to know about your day? I get more kicks watching insects die after eating that white junk."

Vash's jaw dropped. "Wolfwood, that's mean!"

"It's honest."

He tossed the bottle at my head. "Geeze," he snapped, "Why should I tell you about these two insurance agents I met this morning? Ladies to be exactly. Two of them. Well, I'm not going to tell you and that's that."

I rolled my eyes. I used to not be good at that, but I guess I got good at it after being his friend. "Uh, you just did. So, why didn't you get insurance?"

Vash twiddled his toes and looked like a complete idiot while doing so. No, I really mean he was twiddling his toes. "Err, because what would good would life insurance be if I'm immortal."


"You know I'm not allowed to drive."

"Oh yeah," I said, "Thanks for reminding me, lush."


"It's the truth," I said casually, "Besides, what if I wanted to meet one of these girls?" I tapped my fingers against the couch, "For uh... business matters."

Vash looked at me like he thought I was the world's biggest liar. "Sure... uh-huh."

"It's the truth."

He burst on into an ear to ear grin. It wasn't a fake grin, but I still wanted to smack him. "It's okay... they're cute... but you know what I'm gonna do?"

"Call them up?" I asked, "Get their address?"

Vash stared at me and grinned. "I am going to go..."

"Go what?"


"GO WHAT?" I snapped.

"Watch TV," he finally finished and turned on the TV.

Except instead of channeling surfing, he stared at the screen. His eyes widened and overall... well, he looked shocked. The headline "Subway Train Highjacking... many feared dead." blasted on the screen. "Vash," I asked, shaking his shoulders, "What's wrong?"

"Dear god," he said, apparently forgetting he didn't believe in a God at the moment.

"What, Vash?" I was getting more and more ticked off. My day sucked enough as it was, I didn't need another event like that."

Vash finally managed to speak. "I put them on that train."

Yeah. God hated me. Hated me a lot. That had to be the reason. "This," the newsperson said, continuing the report over Vash's girly screaming, "Is suspected to be the work of wanted fugitive Brillant Dynamites Neon. Neon who had recently..." Oh, hell. be continued.
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