-----DISCLAIMER-----

Soooooooo~
On the first evening a Lynda~
From somewhere out of nowhere comes and steals the Trigun world~

~Sheeee dooooon't OOOOWWWNN IT!!!~

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

Lynda: Well waddya know. I have nothing to say. >_<

Kuroneko: Myaaaa~

Lynda: NO WAIT!! THAT'S A LIE!! I have another simply luscious fanart for my humble fic by another wonderful artist! This time by the highly talented Ms. Alyson M!! **cries** Thank you sooooo much. ;_;

http://members.dcsi.net.au/timber/en/art/others/divineguardian.jpg
EGAD!! Dissilation!! **makes swooshy sound effects**
*_* Ain't it just wonderful?

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

Dusty, aging light slid down from the gap in the high rafters to navigate past millions of dust particles. This hazard past, the luminance thereafter fell lightly across the thick, maroon carpet that was stretched over the hallway's floor, splaying the gloomy colour and transforming it's morbity into a bright red. The effort was wasted, however, as there was no one around to see the change. Nothing but an enormous grandfather clock, under which the carpet resided. The clock itself was better classified as a monstrocity rather than a time piece. It loomed up against the dark and badly decored walls, casting it's determined shadow over the floor to foil any more attempts from the light.
Like the governer of it's dank kingdom, the clock ticked away in a melancholy manner, resolutely and steadily slaying seconds with it's enormous hands. The huge counterweight within swayed gently from side to side, narrowly missing it's own casing as the round, lead pendulum proceeded to swing.

It continued to tick.

Until, that is, from out of nowhere one fully grown man was hurled into existence within the tight confines of the mechanism. A thump followed the entrance as the new comer's head, in it's inertia, found the very locked door of the time piece. Another discovery by the unfortunate man was that, in fact, the insides of clocks were quite, quite cramped.
There was a brief, wavering second of crushed personal space before the entirety of the cog works exploded outwards. With a creak, the hand crafted mahogany clock burst it's fixings and splintered, tumbling out springs, sprockets and Humanoid Typhoons.

'O-Ow?' Vash managed as he managed to disentangle himself from the sad remains of the clock face. A small cog was weeded gently from his hair.

Oh my. the Meta-Kard blinked from next to the bent hands. They must've demolished the old entrance. This was the closest door the Skeleton Keys could find.

'A clock?!' the Angel returned in a whine, staring at the now mangled time keeper; a massacred chrysanthemum of chains, weights and butchered wood.

This is a bad sign. Perhaps this place has shut down? Even the Angelinas forgot it existed. was the blinking reply.

'It doesn't matter if it's shut down or not, right?' Vash asked quickly. 'My Guard's here somewhere.'

Somewhere. the Meta-Kard reminded quickly. We do not know where, exactly.

'Then we look.' Vash replied promptly. Taking Kard in hand, he stood, gently stretching out of his kinks and cramps before beginning down the dusty and neglected hallway. The tapestries, carpet, hall tables and wall mounted candelabras marked that the owner must be obsessed with the old victoriana style of design. The dust marked that the owner must also be unconscious or dead, and had been for several decades. Taking a cursory and suspiscious glance around, Vash came to the conclusion that his temporary partner was right.
This place looked derelict.

'It looks like it's been shut down for hundreds of years.' he murmured aloud, slowing down to further take in his surroundings.

Probably 150 years, to be exact.

'150?'

Taking into consideration the care takers, I doubt this place would've had visitors since before the Big Fall.

'Re-Really?! Why?'

It is the home of a... rather specific area of the After Life. Gunsmoke's current life style, plus the functionality of Heaven and Hell for the past hundred years... There is little use for this place.

'... I forgot to ask. Where is here, exactly?' Vash asked, his pace trickling to a halt as a cross roads in the hallway suddenly loomed up. The Meta-Kard blinked.

Where Ghosts go.

Right on que and all the way down the left corridor, hundreds upon hundreds of wall mounted candles burst into life; flames flaring up into dangerous proportions, then mellowing to flicker as if they hadn't just sprung eerily to life all by themselves.
Silence reigned, bar for the crackling of the wicks. If there had been any doubt as to which direction they should head in, there was none now.

'Looks like an invitation.' Vash noted calmly.

Shall we? the Kard asked in a somewhat smug font.

'Of course! Besides, I might get some info out of whoever owns this place.' Vash replied, smiling, then began sauntering up the brightly lit hallway.

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

Knives leant back into the leather chair with a creak, his hard form testing the fidelity of the furniture, daring it to cause discomfort. It didn't. With a large inhalation, the platinum blonde Plant gazed sightlessly at the metal ceiling, arms resting behind his head.
Despite the chill, Knives didn't shiver. He welcomed the cold of the Lost Technology ship. Welcomed it like a child welcomed a familiar security blanket. After all, it was on one of these vessels that he and his twin had been raised. It was only natural that he felt comfortable among the computer systems and cold metal walls. And only natural that he hated the dust, sand and sun of this disgusting planet.

The ship in mention had crashed 130 years ago and had half sunken into the sand of Gunsmoke, a small section of silver hide glinting in the double suns for all to see. Or whoever strayed far enough into the desert to find the great transport.
Knives doubted it would ever fly again, but the systems were remarkably still running, and he had taken it upon himself to set headquarters within the sterile walls.

It was a welcome change from the now empty town of Carcasses. It hadn't been long after Vash had escaped that Knives had moved all his machinery to a better location. He had let the Vaults take what was left of the town.

So now, here he was, gently smiling as events unfolded exactly as he wanted them to.
Well, with the exception of Legato. The ex-Angel was not supposed to die, and it had caused Millions Knives a great deal of undue irritation that he was again cut off from the After World. Just because his brother had bested the blue haired Winger by default.

Not that that would matter, though. Soon. Soon everything was right where he wanted it again.

The only thing to do was wait.

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

Two feet against his desk, hands full of some miscelleaneous magazine, a brown haired Angel called Phil did what he did best. Which was nothing. He was very good at his job, and had been told so many times. The reason for this was because his job was guarding something that didn't really need guarding.
So he did nothing. Which was what he did best.

Until now.

'OPEN UP, WE NEED TO GET IN!!' an extremely aggrivated voice hollered through the metal by Phil's desk. Phil jumped, as he had not had visitors in over a hundred years, and hastily shoved his magazine back into his desk. But, because even he needed a break in monotony occasionally, the Angel stood and shuffled over to the door. But didn't open it.
Through the door, he said,

'I'm sure you don't want to get in here. It's very dull you see.'

'Let us in please, it is a matter of utmost importance!' another voice exclaimed. This one was most definately female.

''Fraid I can't do that.' Phil replied evenly. 'My orders are to keep folks out of this here Control Room.'

'@#$%ING LET US IN OR I'LL RIP OUT YOUR @#$%ING SMALL INTESTINE AND USE IT TO @#$%ING HANG YOU WITH!!' the first voice shouted through the metal with surprising clarity, making the Angel jump back from the assaulting volume.

'Black Jack!' the second scolded.

'Sorry, Saverem, but it's the only way to get these idiots to listen.' the first apologized. Phil shakily got his keycard out and held it before the scanner.

'M-Ms. Saverem ma'am?' he asked.

'Yes?' was politely inquisitive reply.

'Is that you?' the Angel queried in a quaking voice.

'OF COURSE IT'S HER!! SHE @#$%ING ANSWERED YOU DIDN'T SHE?!?!'

'SHH!! Yes, it's me Mr. Phillip. We really need to get in, would you please open the door?'

'Oh. O-o-okay.' Phil stuttered, then with a tiny beep, slid his card through the scanner. He opened the door. And was thereafter grabbed by the scruff of the neck, punched in the nose, kicked in the shin for good measure, then literally thrown out the door. Black Jack slammed it shut afterwards.

'Ok.' he said, ignoring the shouts coming from the shocked Angel now outside. 'That's him out of the way.'

'Let's just hurry and do this.' Rem replied, anxiety writ on every feature. Her hellish counterpart nodded sternly.

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

Candles swept by slowly either side of a casually walking Vash the Stampede. A few tens of the yellowing wax works later and he then lengthened his strides into a jog. Then after another healthy amount of time doing that, he sped up into a run. A sprint quickly followed.

And still the hallway went on. Vash knew he was gaining distance; could see that from the door in the far distance, warm light spilling from it. Could see how this door was slowly getting closer. No, the hallway was not endless; it was just infuriatingly long. Yes, it was a very lengthy hallway.

The casual saunter Vash had originally adopted had been dropped as the length of the walkway caused him to start thinking.
Think about where he was, what he was doing, and who he was trying to reclaim. About what would happen if the wrong sort caught him. About what he would say to his Guard if he did find her. What he would do. Where he would go afterwards.

Then he began to think of everything that had transpired and realized a horrible thing. He was in a carefully manufactured whirlpool and was slowly and inexorably being drawn inwards, despite his protests, despite common sense.
Everything he did under what he believed to be his own decisions and indiscretion was most obviously anticipated and controlled. He was ever being drawn downwards. Goodness knows what waited at the bottom.
With a shake of the head, Vash corrected himself.
No. He knew perfectly well what awaited him.

Knives.

Snapping the Winger from his reverie, the door suddenly sprung up on his left, a great gaping hole in the iles of wall and taperstries. Bright, orange luminance spilled across the suddenly wary form of Vash the Stampede and a billowing cloud of warmth rolled itself out and onto piqued skin. He stopped at the door, barely panting even after his lengthy sprint. He squinted into the light in a bid for inspection. A buzzing in his hand brought Vash's gaze downward.

Well, I guess we should enter. the Meta-Kard noted, prompting,

'I-I don't know.' Vash muttered, taking a step further away from the door.

What? A few minutes ago you were all for this plan! Why the change of view?!

'I just... How do we know that what we are doing isn't going to blow up in our faces?'

Well of course it is! This endeavor has been highly illegal from the very sta-

'No, I mean... Knives probably planned this. What... If I'm only making the situation worse?'

...If you continue to think like that, you will cease to get up from bed every morning. Your brother is a lunatic.

'I know... But I can't just let him-'

'You needn't worry, young man.' a voice declared from somewhere within the orange glow, causing the blonde Winger to near leap aside from the light, conversation hastily dropped.

'Enter, we don't bite.' another said simply.

I vote you enter. the Kard read firmly. We can find your Guard then. Vash gazed at the small green screen some more. Yes, it would be logical to enter, wouldn't it? He then sighed. With a deep breath, the Winger steeled himself and stepped into the light, refusing his eyes the luxury of narrowing to filter the brightness out. As they were forcefully adjusted, Vash the Stampede was confronted by a small and round table. Around which sat a few select figures; all of whom were staring intently at the gunman. Slowly, casually, Vash's hand dropped to his Colt.

'Welcome, Vash the Stampede.' a woman greeted regally. He said nothing in return. There was a long and rather uncomfortable silence.

'Are you going to ask who we are?' another asked in a somewhat confused manner.

'Not really. It'll probably be something bad.' Vash replied simply, unmoving but smiling.

'Are you not curious?' yet another figure queried.

'A little.' the Winger confessed, this time frowning slightly. 'But I'm sure you'll tell me if I need to know, right?' The group of people shot each other pointed glances; some incredulous, some disgusted, some intrigued. Then the first woman turned her eyes back to the unmoving Angel. She smiled.

'Maybe you should know... It is rather important, and we knew you would come to this place eventually. So, who are we? We are the ones that killed you Vash the Stampede.' she announced dramatically.

Silence reigned.

'Do you remember just another day of bounty dodging, young one?' she continued, albiet with a little less confidence this time. The subject of attention had not even batted an eyelid. The woman plunged on. 'A day that ended in a plant exploding? A day you were supposed to walk away from?'

'We killed you.' a man said to her left sharply, obviously impatient.

'And this is important, why?' Vash asked calmly, slipping the Meta-Kard into a pocket. The woman spluttered.

'W-Well. We are... Are beings that used to be apart of the System. Unfortunately religion has rather neglected us the past couple of hundred years, and ghosts don't tend to exist on this arid planet... I am what used to be known as Fate.'

Vash didn't flicker an eyelid.

'Listen, young man. We killed you that day, because we knew this day would come. We needed you in this position. We needed you to understand what your brother is intending to do, and stop to him.' the woman said seriously.

'What do you know about Knives.' the blonde asked quietly, carefully.

'We know enough. We know that the both of you are catalysts and that you are the only one who can oppose Millions Knives. And as such, we triggered an event long ago that would mean possible salvation for us all.' Fate replied. A woman on the other side of the table piped up.

'We killed you so you would become an Angel. We predicted that it was the only way you would be able to save the world.' she said excitedly.

'You killed me so I could save the world for you?' Vash asked, frown darkening his expression. 'I- Wolfwood- The girls... We went through all of this because you needed something done?' he added as a slow and clipped retort.

'Yes.' was the prompt answer.

'Manipulating.' Vash whispered sadly, lowering his gaze. Feeling they had said enough, the congregation around the table remained speechless, and feeling quite vexed, Vash retained the verbal dead-lock. Time passed.

Then, like the shifting of a glacier, calm anger settled itself across the suddenly controlled features of the Humanoid Typhoon and he raised his head sharply.

'Where is my Guard?' he demanded.

'We have no time for that know, we want you to listen.' Fate burbled hurriedly.

'Where?!' Vash near shouted in retaliation, taking a step forward and moving for the first time since he stepped into the room.

'All unclassified souls would be in the waiting room over the other side of the house. But it doesn't matter that much, doe-' a nameless figure blurted in shock, eyes wide.

'Don't tell him that, you idiot!!' another snapped.

'Wait, Vash!' Fate managed, chair clattering to the floor as she stood hurriedly. 'You have to know! Your brother is turning the system against us! He is-'

Vash the Stampede was already out of the brightly lit room and away, the slam of the door marking the end of the discussion.

'-triggering the Apocalypse...' Fate finished forlornly, slowly lowering her hand that had been stretched imploringly at the retreating back of the 60 Billion Double Dollar Man.

'I told you we should not have meddled.' Death snapped from his position on the table.

His complaint landed on unhearing ears.

I can't believe this! the Meta-Kard blinked in utter shock. I can't believe they would actually interfere like this! The situation must truly be important!

'Manipulating. Manipulating.' Vash muttered heatedly, glaring ahead as he continued his sprint down the endless hallways. He was unsure as to how to take this new revelation. He recalled his time in Heaven, his alientation there, and a conversation with Rem in which she specified that his death was not supposed to happen. Recalled the confusion.

I hope Madame Fate wasn't trying to tell you something vital. Might I remind you that you slammed the door in her face. How rude.

'If it's important I'll find out eventually. They seemed in control; everything I've done looks planned to me.' Vash replied sharply.

Of course everything is planned! It has to be! How do you think Heaven and Hell stay organized if souls aren't monitored?

'Well it's not very fair!' Vash snapped. 'This is people's lives we're talking about! They have to right to be in control!'

I don't know what you're complaining about. the Kard confessed. This is for the world, you know. The reason they did is because you are the only one who can oppose your brother.

'Well they are wrong. No matter how hard I think about what I'm doing, he's always one step ahead.' Vash retorted, wincing. There was a long silence.

It seems to me, the Meta-Kard blinked steadily, that instead of trying to think your actions through and attempting to outwit your brother, you should just act with your heart. Not your head. Emotions are, after all, the only thing he doesn't comprehend. Use his ignorance against him. Vash remained silent, mulling over this new thought.
Come to think of it... The only time he had ever seen a surprised look in Knives' eyes was when Vash had acted on pure instinct. When he was driven to an action quite simply because of the emotional strain.
Like shooting his own brother.

The thoughts that flittered through the gunman's head were mildly dizzying, and it wasn't until the Kard in his hand vibrated that Vash dragged himself back to the present.

I remember this place! the Meta-Kard blinked frantically. I know where we are now! Quickly, turn left and go down this corridor! Silently, the Winger complied. Despite the new information lodging itself stubbornly within his mind, Vash was still very firm on his purpose. He knew who he had to find, and be damned if anyone was going to stop him. Not after he had come all this way.

Further, take a right! Down, down... STOP!!

In front of the odd couple, at the end of one of the shorter hallways of the 'house' was some double doors. They were huge, hand crafted with images that defied description, and very locked. A huge iron lock hung from the handles, suspended by it's thick chain.

She is in there somewhere. the Kard announced, blinking rather erratically.

Vash lost no time in unholstering his Colt and blowing the lock off. A well placed kick later and the double doors were near knocked from their hinges, the rusted metal creaking in protest, dust cascading downwards from the door frame in an asphyxiating veil of grey. Coughing fitfully and waving both hands repeatedly in a bid to clear the suffocating dust, Vash took a single blind step forward, mouth and nose lowered to the collar of his coat and away from the invasive particles.

'Hey, whatchit!' a deep voice snapped from the large form the Winger had accidentally bumped into.

'So-sorry!' Vash apologized, managing to blink clear his fuzzy vision. Then gape in horror at what he saw. Dumbfounded, he barely noticed that he was shoved aside by some unknown woman, or that immediately after he was pushed away again by another man. Then jostled by about 15 children. The jolts and jarrs continued relentlessly as the thousands upon thousands of inhabitants in the room shuffled about their business as aimlessly as the lost souls that they, in fact, were.

And somewhere within the throngs, there was a missing Guard.

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

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

Lynda: Urk. Um. Another big dely, sorry. Biggest apology goes to Ms. Cymberleah ma'am. Because I promised her last night I'd have this chapter finished within about 2 hours. Upon completing it, I realized just how bad it was, so I decided to add some scenes in the morning. (It was 3 am by that stage)
Sorry Ms. Cymberleah ma'am. Didn't mean to lie to ya. **cowers** But you ended up getting the big version and not the little one, so wahey?
Um. I don't know what to say about this chappie. **cringes** The first chapter was not completely random, as you can now see, but still... **grimaces** Awwww, man. Writing and drawing have become so HAAAARD lately. **weeps**
I suppose I'll get out of my slump eventually. Eventually...

Well... I'll try to be quicker for the next chappie right? Right? Right. Sigh.

Kuroneko: Mya? =^;_;^= **pats author on the back sympathetically**

Lynda: **points to the right** Onto the next one I guess. I... Guess.. <<sniffles>> ;_; **begins bawling**