Title: Drawn to Danger [6/8]
Author: Rubious
Series: Trigun & Get Backers
Rating: R
Warnings: angst, violence, humor, gunplay, AU-OOC.
Disclaimer: Trigun © Nightow. Get Backers © Aoki and Ayamine. All original characters including but not limited to Blaine, Lamassi, etc, are © Rubious and are not to be used without permission. This story is a work of fanfiction and is for entertainment purposes only.
Spoilers: Contains minor spoilers for both series.
Archive: fanfiction.net under "Rubious" and mediaminer.org under "Rubious2"
Please e-mail any comments to Trigunotaku aol.com.
Notes: While on assignment with Ban and Ginji of the Get Backers, Meryl and Milly are drawn into danger as they meet old friends as well as foes in May City.
//thoughts//
* * * * *
The white Subaru 360 sped through the unpaved streets of May City, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake as Ban floored the accelerator. In the backseat, Wolfwood removed his shades and put them in his jacket pocket. “I won’t be needing these. Look at the sky.”
Ginji looked at the growing mass of clouds that were scudding across the formerly clear sky. A sense of unease filled his mind, but he felt a gentle reassurance in the teamwork he had with Ban and a growing camaraderie with the cross-toting preacher. “Go faster, Ban-chan,” he exhorted.
Ban grunted and silently urged more speed from the car’s engine. “Are we almost there?” he asked his colleague, who was studying the map of May City.
“It’s around the next corner,” Ginji answered.
As their car made a right turn, Ban saw a man of imposing size supervising several other men who were carrying crates from the Shooters Service warehouse and loading them onto a truck. “We came in time to stop them,” he observed. After the Subaru skidded to a stop, the trio disembarked to disrupt the robbery in progress.
Turning to his companions, Ban asked, “Ready?”
Ginji smiled and replied, “Yeah.”
Wolfwood grinned as he unloosened the straps on his cloth-wrapped arsenal. “Locked, loaded, and ready to rock and roll,” the preacher added.
From the roof of the warehouse across the street, a young outlaw who had been posted as a lookout shouted alarmingly, “Boss, we’ve got company!”
Brilliant Dynamites Neon frowned upon hearing the exclamation. “How many are there?” he yelled back to the lookout.
“Three guys in a white car headed your way. One of ‘em is carrying a big cross.”
“Shit!” BDN muttered in disgust. “Let’s go, boys. Pack up that truck before the law comes.” The leader of the Bad Lads barked out orders as the men quickened their pace to finish the heist. The back of the truck was halfway filled with crates of ammunition and firearms.
Turning towards the direction of the intruders who were slowly striding towards him, Neon tried to discern their identities. His eyes squinted to get a better view; the overcast sky eliminated any glare. Studying them, he regarded the man carrying the large cross to be the most dangerous //If that’s who I think it is, he’s the one who was traveling around with Vash the Stampede when Augusta was destroyed.// As for the other two men, he surmised they were young punks hired to make a quick double-dollar, dismissing them as potential flies in the ointment.
As they neared the warehouse, Wolfwood glanced over to the Get Backers and inquired, “So do you guys have a plan?”
Ban shrugged and looked over to Ginji, who shook his head. “We’ll just go in there and retrieve the stolen guns, right, Ban-chan?”
The Jagan-user smiled cockily, “Or something like that.”
The preacher grumbled at the haphazard planning. “We’ll play it by ear. I’ve heard quite a bit about that big dude over there. It’s gonna take a helluva lot to take him down. Just follow my lead,” he said cautiously.
“Their leader looks like that scary guy who keeps popping up again and again,” Ginji observed, comparing him to a bodyguard the Get Backers had repeatedly battled on several missions.
While thunder rumbled in the distance, the increasing gusts scattered trash and debris about as the retrieval team approached the Shooters Service warehouse. If they had been backlit by spotlights, they would have made a dramatic entrance as they strode purposefully like gunslingers readying for a duel at high noon. Members of the Bad Lads continued the orderly plundering of the warehouse while their leader scrutinized the new arrivals, uncertain of their intentions.
Calmly smoking a cigarette, Wolfwood strolled to within ten feet of the tall outlaw. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Brilliant Dynamites Neon,” he remarked sarcastically as he dismissively tossed away the spent cigarette butt.
“Who might you be?” Neon responded, the pretentiousness radiating from him like an aura. His brown eyes narrowed and his expression hardened.
“I’m Nicholas D. Wolfwood and these two are the Get Backers,” he answered, indicating Ban and Ginji who flanked him. “We’re here to make sure that no more kids become orphans because of those stolen guns.”
Before Neon could react, the arrogant Get Backer interjected. “Our client has hired us to retrieve the stolen weapons from the warehouse.”
Hearing this, the lead thief clenched his fists, fury building within him. He wrongly concluded that his client had hired the Get Backers to take back the stolen property; thereby cutting the Bad Lads out of any potential proceeds from their sale. “That double-crossing bastard! He’s trying to break our deal and screw us out of our money!” he railed.
Wolfwood took note of the incensed man’s rant. //So somebody is behind this. The girls will certainly want to hear that little tidbit.//
As two Bad Lads loaded the truck with another munitions-filled crate from the warehouse, one said to his companion, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” The other robber nodded in agreement.
Hoping to make the best of the standoff, Neon offered a compromise, “Gentlemen, can we settle this peacefully? Would you like a piece of the action? Maybe we can split the money 50-50 if you let us keep all of the guns?”
Though the bribe was very tempting, Ban steadfastly refused, “All or nothing.” Ginji looked at his partner questioningly, but he had faith that this was the proper response.
Neon felt a growing tension in the air and warned his men; several had their hands poised on their holsters. “Everyone hold their fire. If anyone shoots, I’ll deal with them personally.
On the rooftop across the street, the young lookout didn’t hear the order.
The little punk had joined the gang a few months before, but had been relegated to minor roles such as being lookout and doing menial chores around their hideout in Lotenburg Canyon because of his scrawny build, pimply face, and unhygienic habits. Feeling nervous, his palms were sweaty as he gripped the revolver and aimed it at the intruders.
“Boss is gonna be so proud of me because I protected him from those guys,” he muttered excitedly. The gun recoiled when he fired, jerking his arm, causing the round to end up kicking up dirt at Wolfwood’s feet.
“Now I don’t appreciate being shot at,” Wolfwood remarked, hefting the Cross-Punisher to his shoulder, the cloth covering falling to the ground. He pointed the vertical base at the rooftop from where the bullet had been fired. After pulling the trigger, a rocket-propelled grenade was launched where it exploded against a chimney on the rooftop. Bricks cascaded from the demolished chimney, one of which struck the inexperienced gunman who had been leaning over the edge to watch the scene below transpire, sending him plummeting to the ground with a thud. He was knocked unconscious by the impact.
Upon seeing their downed comrade, the Bad Lads felt an initial shock that lasted several moments, but then they retaliated by opening fire on Wolfwood. The priest hurriedly shoved the Get Backers to safety as the trio took shelter behind a stack of wooden pallets. Bullets pinged off a forklift that was to the right of the pallets. The blue-eyed marksman stated bluntly, “If you two have any guns, now’s the time to use them.”
Ginji smiled and replied proudly, “We’ve never had the need to use guns.”
Ban added with a smirk, “You’ll see why very shortly.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Wolfwood said, “Whatever” and opened the horizontal arms of the Cross-Punisher to reveal a dozen handguns. He fired several rounds from two pistols rapidly with uncanny accuracy, knocking the guns from the hands of three of the bandits, who were left stunned.
At this time, the Bad Lads in the warehouse stood in the open loading bay, but were hesitant to join in the firefight because their leader stood between them and the intruders.
If they went against Neon’s orders, their punishment would be swift and painful.
While Wolfwood exchanged fire with the bandits, the Get Backers hastily conferred on the best course of action in dealing with Neon. Their opponent would have intimidated any ordinary person, but the two teens had faced tougher challenges in Mugenjo. Standing 6-6” tall, Neon had brown hair and brown eyes and a muscular physique. But the man’s most dominating features were the two large dynamos attached to his shoulders.
Garish amounts of yellow neon trimmed his jacket, sleeves, pants, and even his hat. The outlaw would have found himself at home on the Las Vegas Strip with its entire dazzling splendor. Like the magpie, he shared a predilection for sparkling objects.
“He’s got enough neon on his body to light up Shinjuku,” Ginji commented.
The pair decided that disabling the dynamos were the key to overcoming the outlaw. Ban figured he could use the Jagan to distract Neon while Ginji would use his electrical attack to overload the dynamos and destroy them. Wolfwood’s covering fire would prevent any interference from the Bad Lads.
Ban motioned to Wolfwood to continue to keep the Bad Lads occupied while they made their move against the outlaw. “God’s supposed to protect children, drunks, and fools. Well, Lord, I hope you’re watching over those two fools,” Wolfwood said as the Get Backers stood up to put their plan into action.
* * *
Blocks away in an office, a man had finished installing software on the company’s computer network and was about to take his afternoon break when he asked a female coworker, “Hey, isn’t it strange to hear all those gunshots around here?”
“Yes, it is. The tournament’s on the other side of town,” the woman replied. She paused for a moment and then added, “Is that an alarm going off?”
“I hope it’s not somebody’s annoying car alarm.”
“It sounds more like a fire alarm,” she said. Curious to find out what was happening, she inquired, “Do you want to see what’s going on?”
“Sure. It’ll certainly add a little excitement around here. Besides, it’s time I took my break,” the man rationalized as he headed out of the office with his coworker.
Outside, they joined a crowd of people, most of whom were visitors attending the tournament and were checking out different areas of May City, headed towards the source of the noises. They stood silent, enthralled by the unfolding events.
* * *
As the retrieval agents emerged from behind the pallets to confront the outlaw, Brilliant Dynamites Neon sensed an unusual aura surrounding the blond Get Backer. “I like the way you sparkle—very impressive. I’m sure you’ll be a worthy opponent.”
Ginji whispered to Ban, “Do I sparkle?”
“Only your eyes,” replied his partner, winking.
Neon waited for them to make their move. “Two against one—that’s not a fair fight,” he said mockingly, noting that the pair didn’t appear to be intimidated one bit or easily goaded into acting impulsively against him.
Focusing on the outlaw leader, Ban adjusted his blue-tinted glasses and concentrated to apply the Jagan against the unwary opponent. As the one-minute length the Evil Eye was in effect began and his thoughts were focused on Neon, he didn’t hear the rifle shot whizzing towards him, which he would have easily evaded with his quick reflexes.
The bullet tore through his leg, barely nicking the femoral artery as a scarlet stain rapidly blossomed across the ripped fabric of Ban’s black pants. Struggling against unconsciousness, the Jagan-user collapsed to the ground like a fallen house of cards.
“BAN-CHAN!” shrieked Ginji as he gaped in horror at the sight of his partner lying helplessly in the dirt, his guttural moan resounding like specters haunting a graveyard on a foggy night. The shocked teen realized he had to act quickly to save Ban’s life by stopping the bleeding. He tore shreds of cloth from the long tails of Ban’s shirt and tied the makeshift tourniquet tightly around the leg to stem the loss of blood.
Ginji spoke reassuringly, “Everything will be all right,” and was especially thankful that Neon was feeling the full effects of the Jagan. If the outlaw hadn’t, the Get Backers would have been dead since Neon would most likely have drawn his sidearm and gunned them down.
Grimacing as he fought the waves of pain coursing through him, Ban muttered through clenched teeth, “Don’t worry. It’s only a flesh wound,” before succumbing to unconsciousness.
The blond carefully picked up his partner and carried him to safety where a group of curious onlookers had gathered. Before laying Ban on the ground, he whispered, “I’m sorry for what I’m going to do to those that hurt you. Forgive me.” After gently setting his partner down on the ground before the worried crowd, Ginji anxiously told a woman, “Somebody please call an ambulance. Watch over Ban-chan for me.” Looking back towards the neon-trimmed bandit, the electric teen’s often-warm brown eyes narrowed as he said coldly, “Those guys hurt my partner. They’ll find out the shocking truth of messing with the Get Backers.”
The retriever was determined to complete their mission and also exact justice on the ones who had injured his partner.
Glancing at his watch and seeing the Jagan’s sixty-second effect was almost up, Ginji dashed back to finish off the confrontation with the Bad Lads’ leader. Sparks emanated from Ginji’s body as he began powering up to lash out at the powerful outlaw.
While Wolfwood was exchanging fire with several members of the Bad Lads, he glimpsed in his peripheral vision Ban getting wounded and crumpling to the ground. “Fuck! The kid got hit!” Cursing, he knew he had to take decisive action to protect his associates. In the course of a few short hours, the preacher had developed a fond respect for the two teens, especially Ban Mido, whose attitude reminded Wolfwood of himself when he was their age.
Thoughts swirled through the preacher’s mind as he raised the Cross-Punisher, its horizontal base pointed towards the bandits. Flicking a switch, a trigger shifted down against the crossbar, which acted as the weapon’s stock; a machine gun barrel emerged from the base. Pulling the trigger, the vengeful Wolfwood sprayed a ruthless fusillade of bullets. “Taste lead, you bastards,” he sneered.
The withering fire directed at the Bad Lads, who were busy celebrating the lucky shot that had downed one of their foes, hit its mark with incredible accuracy. The surprised gang members were shocked as their handguns were knocked from their grasps and they were driven to seek cover behind the truck One unlucky bandit was a tad slow and was clipped in the knee by a bullet. The wounded man flailed about and stumbled into a pile of unevenly stacked boxes, which tumbled down upon him. His comrades didn’t dare leave their haven lest the marksman would easily pick them off.
A satisfied grin on his visage, Wolfwood fired staccato bursts at the Bad Lads to keep them pinned down. Turning his head, he glanced over to see an irate Ginji advancing towards the immobile Neon, seemingly entranced. //Holy shit! I never expected those kids to be so powerful. Appearances can be quite deceiving, but why the hell isn’t Neon shooting at Ginji?//
“He’s a sitting duck out there in the open. I gotta cover his backside,” The sharpshooting minister muttered while he slowly edged his way towards Ginji; the fusillade from the Cross-Punisher kept the Bad Lads pinned down.
As thunder boomed ominously and lightning flashed in the distance, a light rain began to fall on the streets of May City. To Brilliant Dynamites Neon, the rain was insignificant because he was in the throes of experiencing a nightmarish vision that was the result of being subjected to the Jagan cast by the arrogant teen. He didn’t notice the Jagan-user fall victim to a shot fired by one of his subordinates.
Struggling in vain to keep a grip
on reality, the outlaw succumbed to the spell’s mind-boggling effects. To
celebrate the Day of Honor, the community held a public sacrifice, their edict
being that an honorable death for one fortunate soul would yield another year
of wealth and honor for the village. This year was Neon’s opportunity to assume
the task of public executioner. Adorned in neon-trimmed regalia, he beamed at
the prospect of being in the spotlight for this festive occasion.
On this particular day, the
sacrificial “victim” would be hung from a gallows erected in the village
square. The event had turned into a spectacle with residents bringing picnic
lunches and children scampering about. Neon looked at the festive crowd,
reveling in the moment that soon all their attention would be focused on the
hangman as he released the switch to open the trap door jerking the noosed man
downwards.
Members of the village council
led a lanky man, his hands bound behind him, up the scaffold’s stairs to the
gallows. For a brief moment before a hood was placed over his head, the
spiky-haired blond in the red duster stared at the hangman. The condemned’s
calm expression belied the resigned acceptance of his inevitable fate, but in
the few seconds of eye contact, something struck a chord within the resplendent
executioner that made him balk at completing his duties.
“Is it honorable to kill a man
to ensure prosperity?” he asked aloud. His comment was received with catcalls
and jeers.
“What’s the hang-up?” someone
heckled, throwing a rotten tomato that splattered over the reluctant hangman’s
natty attire.
The leader of the village elders
approached Neon and placed a revolver next to his temple. Gesturing to the
sacrifice, the elder explained, “He volunteered for the ceremony. The only
person against it is you”
“I can’t accept taking the life
of an innocent person,” the unwilling Neon replied.
“Would you like to take his
place then?” the elder retorted sharply. Removing five bullets from the
cylinder of the revolver, the village leader spun the cylinder and then closed
it. Speaking in a threatening voice, he told Neon, “Today is a good day to die.
In these six chambers, one holds a bullet. I don’t know which chamber it’s in.
For every ten seconds you delay the ceremony, I’ll pull the trigger. Shall we
play Gunsmoke roulette?”
Turning towards the rambunctious
crowd, who had hurled more rotting fruit and trash at the scaffold to express
their displeasure at the delay, the leader catered to the audience, “Would you
like to have two hangings for the price of one? Next year should be twice as
nice!” The crowd roared their approval.
Neon gulped air when he felt the
elder press the handgun next to his temple. He held to his resolve of not
killing a defenseless person. Click went the sound of the chamber advancing.
Another ten seconds elapsed as Neon refused to perform his duties.
Click went the cylinder.
His pulse racing, the bandit leader felt a cold sweat trickling down his cheek as he blinked to clear his blurry eyesight. Pondering the vision, Neon realized he didn’t grow up in a village that celebrated honor rather than the upbringing he experienced on the rough-and-tumble streets of his childhood as his parents drifted from town to town to eke out a meager living. One fateful day, the young Neon was left behind to fend for himself, eventually becoming infamous outlaw leader of the Bad Lads. [1]
The electrified atmosphere made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up, forcing his attention back to the angry young man standing before him.
“Did you have a nice dream?” snarled Ginji, reciting the favorite catch phrase that his partner used in these situations.
4
Neon had badly underestimated the two young adversaries. If the one had to power to cause nightmares, what could the other do? He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.
Generating a tremendous amount of electricity, Ginji crossed his arms in front of his chest; sparks flew from his fingerless glove-encased hands. The teen was exhibiting the awesome power that had manifested within him growing up in Mugenjo that had propelled him to rule Lower Town with the aid of the trusted Four Kings of Volts until the fateful day he encountered Ban Mido that changed his life forever.
Tendrils of white-hot electricity arced from his body towards the outlaw leader, who stood mesmerized by the blinding display. Onlookers gasped in wonderment at the huge amount of energy emitted by the electric youth.
The electricity struck Neon with the force of a lightning bolt, knocking the massive man off of his feet and against two of his men who had ventured forth from the safety of the warehouse to help their leader.
That decision proved to be almost fatal when Ginji launched another bolt, more intense than its predecessor, towards the bandits, who were tending to Neon. The blast passed through them with the voltage of a live wire, the entrance and exit wounds from the current visible on their smoldering flesh; a sickening stench filled the air. While they lay unconscious, sprawled over the outlaw, one of the dynamos mounted on Neon’s shoulders was torn off and exploded.
The resulting destruction from the blast shattered every window in the vicinity, sending the Bad Lads who weren’t wounded fleeing for their lives. Shards of glass and shrapnel were scattered in every direction, striking one bystander in the eye and injuring several gang members. Recently arrived medical personnel treated the injured.
Minutes passed as the outlaw pondered what had just occurred. His clothes tattered, his skin slightly charred, Neon swore that he was in the fiery realm of Hell. “That wasn’t an honorable way to die,” he murmured, as he slowly opened his eyes to see the two bodies in a macabre heap next to him.
In the attack’s aftermath, Wolfwood glanced around the area outside of the warehouse. It looked as if a powerful typhoon, and not the Humanoid Typhoon, had ripped through a marketplace, destroying everything in its path. //That innocent looking kid caused all this destruction? I really underestimated him.//
When Wolfwood reached Ginji’s side, their collision jarred the Get Backer. “Sorry about that. Are you feeling okay?” he inquired in a concerned voice. Pointing towards Neon, he added, “It looks like you slaughtered those guys with that electric attack.”
Even when he was in Raitei-mode, life was sacred to Ginji Amano. The thought of ending someone’s life, be it friend of foe, horrified him. Staring at the vanquished bandits, his steely gaze softened when he saw Neon slightly stir. The coldness vanished from his voice as he replied, “I’m fine. It’s a relief to see nobody was killed. Excuse me, but I have to see Ban-chan.”
The preacher watched Ginji hurry off to check on his wounded partner. There was still an important matter at hand to deal with. Though the remnants of the Bad Lads had fled the scene, their dangerous leader remained, incapacitated from the effects of the battle.
After Wolfwood bent down to remove the portable church-shaped donation box from the Cross-Punisher, he approached the dazed outlaw purposefully. Pointing the machine gun muzzle into the bandit’s face, the preacher spoke bluntly, “So, Neon, would you like to make a confession right now?”
In his befuddled state, Neon wasn’t going to engage in a philosophical debate over what was the honorable route to take. Deducing that the client wasn’t a man of principles from his double-crossing actions, the Bad Lad leader reasoned it’d be honorable to disclose the identity of the scheme’s mastermind.
“Come on, who’s behind this operation,” Wolfwood demanded impatiently. “The sooner you tell me, the quicker we can get you to the docs.”
Eyes fluttering open, Neon mumbled, “Blaine,” before slipping into unconsciousness.
Armed with the vital information, Wolfwood departed hastily for the City Hotel to meet with the insurance investigators.
* * * * *
To be continued…
[1] Brilliant Dynamites Neon’s origin has not been disclosed in the manga or anime, therefore, I envisioned a possible background for the flashy outlaw