-----DISCLAIMER-----

This is a Disclaimer.
Note the 'Claim'.
Now, take note of the ever present 'DIS'.
Therefore, this claim is dissed.
Thus I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN TRIGUN.

-----AUTHOR'S NOTES-----

Lynda: I should REALLY give Vash and Wolfwood a break. I mean, I keep hurling them into nasty situations all the time, being that I am an evil lil' no life loser. (Thank you, Josh ¬_¬;;)
Plus I think Wolfwood would suffer a stroke if Vash keeps doing silly and impossible things. ^_^

Hmmm... I'd like to thank the regulars. What with FF.N's reviewing system down all the time, I'm kinda lost as to who's paying attention anymore. But no worries, because some people go out of their way to reassure me and that's wonderful!! THANKS!!

Kuroneko: Mya =^×_×^=

-----*+*-----

Meryl was not feeling at all well. She was being dragged back to the hotel by a flustered partner, and she was having some difficulty explaining away the latest turn of events. Oh, she could do it... But with some difficulty, that's all.

'Milly, slow- down! We ha-ve to evaluate the sit-situation and w-write the re-'

'No, Sempai, Mr. Ghost say's we have to leave right now!' Milly cut in, the sharp interruption coupled with the sobriety of tone enough to make Meryl listen to her words. Then grimace in general nausea and confusion.

'Ghost?! Milly I don't think you sho-' the shorter of the pair began.

'Sorry, Sempai, I was being silly.' Milly amended apologetically, the grip she had on the short Claims Investigator's wrist tightening reassuringly. Well that's better. Meryl thought, or at least attempted to in the savage din between her temples. She's been acting strange since the Steamer trip... The tall brunette pulled her partner from her thoughts again when she said cheerfully,

'Mr. Angel said we have to leave right away!'

'A-Angel?!' Meryl stuttered, suddenly wanting to resist the inexorable bee-line they were making for the hotel. But Milly was very stubborn when it came to danger, and it was obvious that neither of them were going back to the Millions Mansion. Well, yes, the client was mildly insane, and yes, there was quite a bit of explosions and hostility, but surely it wasn't life threatening? They had a job to do.

Milly appeared to be the one prioritizing at current point in time, however.

'Oh, yes. Mr. Angel and I were talking all the way when we were finding you! It's much too dangerous to stay in this town!' she exclaimed, finally letting go when they stumbled onto the inn's porch. Meryl wobbled precariously for a few moments before latching onto the veranda for support.

'Milly, what are you talking about?!' she managed, prying her eyes open. To find her friend already gone, retrieving baggage and what not. A few pained blinks later and Meryl shook her head slightly.

She was sicker than she thought; to be fine one moment, then nauseous and close to passing out so suddenly. She had thought she'd shaken the illness by December. Sure, there was a little dizziness, but that was expected, jumping out of her sick bed so quickly. But... That was nothing like what Meryl had felt in that factory. It was sickening and enlivening all in one. Like being painfully open and vulnerable, but also being agonizingly contracted and close. And yet, it hadn't been... Bad. It felt correct.

And not alone.

-riously, I- I don't know how I knew how to do it! And would you STOP hitti-

Meryl frowned and turned. She straightened, feeling more than a little embarrassed that she'd let people see her clutching a banister for dear life in her sickness. So much for control. But, strangely enough, the dusty streets were empty to the point of obscurity. No one was there to speak...
The voice had been so close. Distanced but close. Like muffled voices through a thin wall. Meryl blinked, wondering if she was, in fact, losing her mind.

'I think getting back to the main office to rest would be a good thing.' she muttered, managing to slide down the decking to sit on the porch. The spinning earth now tilted dangerously. But, thankfully, silence met buzzing ears.

Content that her sanity was strained but intact, the Claims Investigator revised the factory ordeal. The people were most obviously hostile and intending something diabolic or maliscious, but Meryl couldn't for the life of her think of what. And Knives Millions. The lunatic was talking to himself. Or rather, to the invisible people inhabiting his head. How did someone as raving mad as that become rich enough to have a mansion? Oh yes. Rule one of aristocracy. It wasn't 'insane'. It was 'eccentric'. Maybe the whole town was mad? It might explain why half their room was blown away this morning. Some trigger happy townsfolk must've acquired a rocket launcher or something.

In any case, all these facts were not helping Mr. Million's appeal any. And with all the new explosions that just appeared to occur around them, he was violating the Insurance agreement by bringing Investigators into hazardous enviroments. Pah.

'Sempai, what are you doing lying down?! We have to go!' That would be Milly.

'Lying down? Milly I'm-' Meryl blinked and found her cheek pressed up against something hard. Oh. That would be the ground.

'We have to hurry!' the tall brunette urged in a huff, already swinging baggage up onto their thomases. Meryl hauled herself upright by the porch railing, the tiniest of breezes suddenly bringing forth a cold sweat across her brow.

'Can't we... Rest?' she asked, panting from the effort. The answer came in the form of being slung across one of the pathetic beasts. As her head spun from the movement, Meryl thought she caught a glimse of something red at the corner of her eye, but upon turning, there was nothing there. Oh yes, definately losing it.

'We'll rest when we get to December!' Milly announced, mounting behind the white clad Investigator's prone form.

'I can ride my own thomas.' Meryl lied in a muffled manner from somewhere against the leather saddle, not having the energy to un-sprawl herself.

'Oh no! That thomas is for the Angels!' Milly replied simply, the beast under them baying as it was forced into motion. Ok, now who was the one losing it?

'Milly, there are no Angels.' Meryl said as firmly as possibly, trying to muster whatever dignity that was still intact considering her position. Needless to say it wasn't very effective. The thomas beside them stumbled as if from some invisible weight, some of the baggage shifting. Strange... Logic kicked into gear and noted that it was a pathetic stead anyway. Meryl scoffed and reasoned that the creature couldn't carry itself, let alone a rider.

But she had the odd feeling of people being near.

Despite the next couple of minutes straining to see any mystertious figures, the streets were as empty as before, nothing to be heard but the panting of the two laden thomases. Meryl was pondering her current mental situation.

So, despite her uncomfortable position, Meryl Stryfe willed herself into sleep. Bone jarring and fleeting, but rest all the same.

-----*+*-----

'The factory. Head them off at the factory.' Legato ordered the sentinal mountain that was Grey the Ninelives. Then fell into silence. If the Winger hadn't been so introspective he wouldn't noticed that not only did Nivelives leave, but minutes had passed since he did. Legato managed to focus his topaz gaze on the solid world for a few moments, before effort dragged him backwards into semiconsciousness.

He had been pushed from Vash the Stampede's mind but moments before, and the latest immeasurable period of time had been dedicated to trying to get back in. What kind of mental tide kept the blue haired Angel away? The initial push had been bad enough, but no metaphorical ground seemed to be able to be gained thereafter. But still Legato stood, left hand clenching sword hilt as it fizzed pathetically. Still he gazed into space, into the now untouchable domain that was the Humanoid Typhoon's mind.

But he refused to yeild to desperation. Legato allowed his subject to do that, the mind's resolve weakening as desperation and anxiety over that pathetic human intensified. The walls crumbled; the meta-physical arm's length dissipating as Vash's panicking focus inverted more and more. Legato took the opportunity to enter that mind again, to claim his rightful residence. It was unheard of, this resistance, and it made the Winger more than a little wary. And intrigued.

Legato turned his eyes down to the hilt and the left hand that held it.

In his contemplative and distracted state, Legato's focus shuddered and snapped back to the present as he was forcefully shoved from the mind he clutched. And once again, there was not a thing he could do to stop it from happening. Oh, yes. Remarkable. And unexpected.

... E.G. Mine and Ninelives might have some trouble.

Golden gaze still fixated on sword hilt, Legato began a slow and steady walk down the hallway, subconsciously following his Demons to the ultimate cause of distraction. He was drawn to this Angel. Just as he was connected to the Master. Just as this left arm was attached to his body... Just as the sword could be held by that left hand.

As he walked, Legato narrowed his eyes and reached for the sword with his right hand. It was a feat he had attempted many times before. It still intrigued him.
The fingers shuddered centimeters away, straining against an invisible barrier, knuckles going white as they quaked with effort. In the end, it was obvious that the digits would break before they could touch that hilt. And yet, the left held it comfortably, the weight perfectly balanced and familiar. Legato spent the next long stretch of time mulling over this, making his way slowly to the factory.

The contemplative silence shattered only once when the entire mansion shook due to an explosion. Angel paused in his travels to ponder the event and it's cause, then stepped back into motion with an increase in pace. It was a death deserving err to forget that there were two armed Angels within these walls. The other one, Chapel, would probably be causing just as much damage as Vash the Stampede.

After another great deal of time, the strange Winger raised his head when a familiar voice lodged itself into his thoughts like a familiar and welcomed barb.

Legato.

'Master?' Angel asked, his right hand retreating from the sword hilt. So the Master felt the explosion as well...

My brother. Where is he?

'He is on his way to the Factory.'

Stop him. The damage he could cause...

'One of your Demons is already awaiting him. And another is on the way.'

Only two? Who have you sent?

'E.G. Mine is stationed there and Grey the Ninelives is blockading the exit.'

It's not enough. Send the others, I won't let him run away th- i -s- t- ... i- i- ...

A golden gaze rose slowly at the strange static that was filling Legato's mind. Somewhere, the Master was getting confused and angry. Somewhere, Chapel was causing destruction. Somewhere, E.G. was having some issues. Somewhere, Ninelives was nearing his destination. Somewhere, Vash the Stampede was... Was...

'Ungh-'

The sound dragged itself from a throat unused to such expressions and was cut short when aforementioned throat tightened over it. Legato bared his teeth in substitute, doubling over, single visible eye wide with pain and incomprehension. The pupil shrunk to a pin point while the Winger's right hand clawed at his left bicep, the entire arm contracting in torment. The sword hilt, previously hissing and spitting sparks pathetically, burst into life and lodged it's gigantic blade into the ground. It thrummed dangerously with poorly suppressed power. The glow intensified by the second, the rug on the floor scorching away from the light, the blackened threads spreading outwards and curling like a disgusting disease; shrinking and dying before the shine.

Legato had never had this left arm feel so alien. As blood tore about it's business like needles, the veins holding the rampage screamed and seared, threatening to burst from their quivering enclosure of flesh and tissue. The muscle, in an effort to contain and crush the pain, tensed and swelled, shuddering when it was physically impossible to do so any more. Bones creaked as they attempted to remain intact and not splinter through the agonizing ordeal.

And still the sword throbbed and pulsed, lightening crackling as the blade threatened to out grow the hilt.

Legato sunk to shaking knees, wide and unresponsive eyelids quivering as he possibly drew blood on the contorting arm with pain sharpened nails.

Vash the Stampede was-

Within seconds, however, like a crushing weight lifted, the pain dissipated and sword hilt clattered to the ground uselessly and devoid of light. Winger followed it, breathing heavily while his eyes narrowed and blurred due to the invasion of cold sweat. A terrible and mirthless smile split the carefully blank face of Legato Bluesummers, left hand flexing in a pathetic reminder of pain. Blood had trailed down from bicep to wrist, the snaking sliver of crimson surreal and hypnotic.

Sweet agony.

-to- ... -ato! ... -gato!

To be sprawled in such a weak and pathetic manner, though fitting, was not the epitome of servitude. Legato pulled himself to his feet, smile tweaking everytime his bones groaned in protest and straightened himself. Nausea now dominated, and it swept in unrelenting tides. Ignoring the sickly feeling, Legato reached down and hesitantly retrieved the bleak and desolate sword hilt.

'Master.' he finally acknowledged, beginning to walk down the hallway as if nothing had happened, albeit a little shakily. The pain the motion caused brought a grim but genuine smile to the Winger's features.

Legato. What happened? Knives asked angrily, probably more annoyed at being cut off rather than having his servant in writhing torment.

'I'm not sure, Master.' Legato replied truthfully. He wasn't sure... But he had his suspicions.

The Factory. What happened to the factory?!

'I am on my way, Master.' the Angel said clearly, knowing already that Knives Millions wouldn't like what he saw when he got there. Something big had just happened. Something beyond a mere Angel's comprehension.

No, Knives Millions would not be happy.

-----*+*-----

Knives swept wide, rage filled eyes over the damage before him.

The room was in utter ruins. What Demons were left of the Gung Ho Guns were trying to contain the millions of Vaults flowing from the rubble that used to be the Vault unit. No one could be spared to chase the escaped Angels. Of course, how convenient.

His brother was gone.

Knives scowled as the scientists rushed to drag rubble away from the battling creatures. Demons, Angel and Vaults alike. His stubborn, diluted and impressionable brother had retreated. Again. And again after mass destruction.
Knives didn't know what to think of it. He was angry, yes, and frustrated more than a little, but only that his sibling could be so blind and contumacious. Why couldn't he see the futility of his whimsical and pasifistic endeavors? The human vermin needed death, and more than death. What they did to the planet and their fellow organisms was rape, torture and murder. And yet Vash refused to join his own twin in the purging.

There were times when Knives was sure his twin opposed him deliberately; the discord some kind of revenge for the death of that human all those years ago. Rem Saverem. How he loathed her now. But he knew that was wishful thinking. How easy it was if all this human loving garbage that Vash stood by was a personal vendetta. But no. Vash truly did care about the worthless vermin. He did want to live among them, with them. It was disgusting enough to wretch.

Knives allowed himself a smirk. Rem truly did warp his precious brother's mind. But now, now he had a chance to kill her, to destroy her all over again. To wipe her stainful existence off the face of all worlds. And hopefully his brother's mind.

With a satisfied mumble, bringing his focus back on the present, Knives shifted his intense focal point between casualties. And, being that his brother was involved, the list was extensive.

The Unit; a huge mangled pile of rubble. By far beyond repair. Vaults were slipping out of the open gash between Planes like water through a sieve. Human scientists were at computers, trying desperately to close the seam. They were succeeding, but slowly. Despite the throngs of Vaults that were emerging, the 'new borns' had little chance against the ring of highly experienced Demons. What few slipped past were quickly dispatched by a vague and unfocused Legato.
Knives wondered about that. His brother's arm that he made his Guardian Angel attach to his body was bleeding, deep scratches across the bicep still dripping. Strange. Knives was not entirely sure of the result that the transplant would bring. The limb of his sibling attached to his Guardian. But whatever happened had brought that ridiculous and strange smile of well recieved pain upon the face of the Angel. Pain. Something else to ponder.

E.G. Mine; now only the shell of that pathetic metal contraption the creature wore about his frame. He was useless anyway. Good riddance.

Rai Dei the Blade; had simply not reported in. Midvalley had informed the rest of his demise. Another useless vermin.

Grey the Ninelives; ... Knives had to confess to the disturbance he felt with this. Bar for the few braincells that kept the huge contraption moving, Ninelives was mostly machine. Therefore, when the mechanism had been vaquished, the frame had remained. But, despite this, all that was left of the monstrocity was boots. A pair of gigantic boots planted firmly on the scorched ground, circuits and bent metal protruding from them in a cleanly cut severing. The rest had simply been blown away with such force that the feet had remained, singed and smouldering. And the once large hole in the wall was gone. The entire wall was gone. Knives was sure he saw some rubble in the far distance.

His brother did that.

With a strange compilation of pride and trepidation, Knives Millions switched his gaze to the factory floor, reached down and picked something up. He turned it in between his fingers, examining the texture, trying to see if the object was real. It certainly felt real. Yes, surreally soft, still warm and shimmering.

His brother. No, it was not wise to drag him back here. Knives narrowed his eyes and took a breath. No, he would be hounded, that disgusting Guard of his destroyed. Then, and only then would Knives seek him out. This power was totally alien and not worth the trouble measuring. Especially when you could be at the wrong end of it.

Knives winced, and in one swift movement, crushed the gossamer feather in his gloved fist.

-----AUTHOR'S NOTES-----

Lynda: **bows** Took my time. I was going to wait for ff.net to get back up, but I decided to show this to you anyway! If you're reading this on ff.net, sorry!! It's late, but it's not my fault! Really!! **innocent grin**

Like I said, I was going to give Vash and Wolfwood a break. Mwe heh. Erm... I have officially finished the mansion escapade!! 7 chapters!! 7!!! Awmigod. I AM long winded. **smirk**

Kuroneko: Mya! =^¬_¬^=

Lynda: The next couple of chapters will settle, then... ((dun dun DUN)) somethin' BIG's gonna happen. Betcha can't guess what!! MWA HA HA!!! Er... That's not an incentive to try and guess, because you'll probably get it and I don't want you to! **goes off to cry**

Hey, a big thanks to Starah, Mae, Miss Eriks, Jadeanime **exhale, inhale** and Ms. Cymberleah!! Despite the reviewing system being down, you all went out of your way to comment and reassure me! ;_; I wuv you guys. Sniffle.

Kuroneko: ... =^-_-^=;;