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Disclaimer: If you honestly think I own any of this... then you're dumber than I look! Ha! o.O Wait... HEY!

Anyway, of course, I don't own and yes it does start off funny sorta and angsty. Character death is envolved and yes, I did take a spin off of the Jerry Springer show which of course... I don't own either. razz , but I changed the name cause I didn't want to get sued! Anyway! Enjoy and review please!

Also, please don't flame me if I get things utterly wrong in this, even if it's how the character's act. I know many of you fanatics out there would kill me if I got the smallest thing wrong but this is MY STORY! Deal with it if the characters are changed just a bit. HA! NOW READ!

Spider’s Web


The lights burn brightly as electricity surges through their wires. Chairs creak as claps and stomps are heard over the hard rock, guttural music that strangles the air. Finally, a loud chant starts instinctively as signs are lit up. The chanting flows with the beat of the angry music.

The crowd finally sits down but still banging their fits to their chanting, which is; “Larry! Larry! Larry!”

The announcer begins his commentary with a sure, booming voice. “Voted the most jacked-up show in the history of television! Now, incredibly in it’s 15th season! Here he comes, Larry Stinger!”

As everybody claps and cheers for the host of the show, he makes his rounds in the audience, doing a bit of meeting and greeting.

The noise finally dies down and the lights stop moving and swiveling around, focusing on the host, Larry Stringer. He’s a sort of husky man with thinning brown hair in a black executive suit, and small, reading glasses adorn his face.

“Our guest today says he has a heartbreaking secret that he just can’t wait to tell.” He says with a sort of excitement tied to his vocal cords. Looking down at his note cards then back at his guest, he steps upon the stage, ready to talk into his microphone again. “So... Knives, is it? What’s this heartbreaking secret you have to tell?”

His eyes fixate, they penetrate with a devious, sinister look. “I’m here to embarrass and humiliate my-” He stops for just a moment and cringes at the next word that is to be uttered from his lips. “-brother, on a national basis...”

“Well, you found the right place.” Larry says, quickly getting couple chuckles from the audience.

Knives only grins an runs his hand through his short, white-sand hair. “Ah, I’m just fooling. So, what’s going on here?” Larry asks while slowly walking back and forth through the crowd.

“I’ve taken his lover for myself” The audience boos and hisses him while he only sits back and smiles, loving the reactions.

“Why?” Larry asks while stepping up onto the stage, out of the audience.

“I felt like it. If I want something, I’ll take it. It’s that simple.”

Larry looks at his guest with a sort of puzzled expression. “But... but why your brother? He’s your blood.”

“And that’s the only thing that binds us together in the eyes of society. I’m looking to break that bond very soon.”

Larry just looks at the maniacal grin the man wears upon his beautiful features. “Alright then, lets bring out your brother, Vash!”

As everybody claps and cheers, a tall man, about six foot, with spiked up blonde hair, sparkling aqua eyes and wearing a huge, red trench coat walks out. He treads softly onto the stage. His brown terrain boots clunking tenderly onto the hollow floor below.

“Knives!” He gasps in utter shock. So many images and questions flood into his mind. His main thought being; Knives manipulating him once again and killing all these people. Destroying the studio and the city and all around it, just like what had happened to the city of July and the 5th moon. He was going to make sure it was caught on national television. At least, some of it, until the cameras and all life around them were fully annihilated. He was going to make sure that Vash was seen this time, proven to the world that he and his awesome power were real and not just an incredible rumor or possibility.

Knives chuckles under his breath and sits back in his seat once again. With one arm, he reaches over and pulls the other chair next to him, offering his twin brother a seat.

“As much as I would love to truly expose you and kill these weak-minded fools, I have something different in mind.” Knives says lowly, under his breath so the microphone cannot pick up the sounds, but just audible enough so Vash can hear every word.

“Welcome to the show... Vash?” Larry inquires, making sure he’s reading his cue card right. Vash only nods his head absent-mindedly. “Alright, well Vash, you don’t know why you’re here, do you?”

He shakes his head as he looks over to Knives in shock, wishing it were a nightmare.

Larry nodes and looks at his cards then looks back to his guests. “Well, I’ll let your brother tell you. Go ahead Knives.” He says as he walks off the stage and into the crowd once more.

The brothers turn to each other, Knives still holding that demented smirk across his succulent lips. “I’m here today Vash, to tell you that your lover has been sleeping with the enemy. That’s right. Your precious Priest has been sleeping with me.

Vash’s glittering blue eyes widen and dim to a dull, foggy, grayish-blue as he stares at this sadistic man in front of him. Both men listen to the “Ooo’s, Ahh’s, and Boo’s” coming from the audience but it only rolls off their shoulders. The body guards stand up, getting between the men, just incase. Vash only lowers his head, his shoulders heaving and beginning to jerk. Tears fall from his flawless cheeks as he only asks, “Why?”

“Why? Why?!” Knives mimics and shouts. “Because Vash, you’re a weak-minded and pathetic imbecile who has no idea of the truly awesome power you possess!”

The crowd stares, almost dumbfounded at hearing Knives words.

“Why did you bring me here? Why couldn’t we have settled this elsewhere.”

“It’s too much fun to see you cry, especially on a national basis.”

“You sick b*****d! I never though you would go this low!”

“Has he ever done anything like his to you before, Vash?” Larry interrupts.

Vash nods slightly. “Yes, he’s taken loved once away from me before.”

Larry nods, feeling bad for this man in red who has lost the life in his eyes. “When we come back, we’ll find out who the lover is, so don’t go anywhere!” As the guttural music starts back up, the audience steps up and applauses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thousands of Enzyte commercials fly across the screen throughout the entire break, making men at home feel inadequate about themselves, especially compared to ‘Bob’.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the show comes back on, that same brawling music is still playing as the audience is still clapping, slowly finding their seats once again while persisting on chanting as if to raise the ratings... as if they need to be raised.

“Alright! We’re back! And we have Knives here with his brother Vash. Knives is cheating with Vash’s lover and we’re going to bring them out now! Here’s Wolfwood!”

Everybody boos as Wolfwood comes onto the stage, but their attitudes change when he is brought in by two other big men. His hands are tied behind him and he is struggling like a whide cougar.

“That’s right Vash. Your innocent preacher man has been in it with us the entire time. The only reason he’s stayed by your side so long was by my orders. I wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, where you would be in the near future, and he’s kept tabs on you this entire time like a good boy.” Knives stands up and walks over to Wolfwood, running his thumb across his battered and bruised lips. “He’s a wonderful toy. Don’t you agree you pathetic excuse for a protector of those... homo sapiens? So obedient, submissive. Especially when your possible death comes to ear. A true work of art, this one. In basic terms that even you can understand dear Vash, he‘s a good ********.” He takes a couple steps away from the still struggling man who is slowly loosing energy. One of the men holding him; the one dressed... differently with the piercing yellow eyes and straight, overlapping silver-bluish hair leans down and licks along Wolfwood’s jaw line with an insidious smirk.

“Nicholas!” Vash jumps up and runs over to free his lover, but his brother quickly catches him, twisting his arm around, wrenching it up his back and sending him to the floor with the force of the yank. He shoves his knee down into his brother’s spine and holds him down with an evil laugh. The guards jump up and run over to the two but Knives pulls out his gun and holds them at bay.

“How’d that get passed us?” One guard asks while backing up, holding his hands before him, as if to block if a bullet is shot off.

The audiences’ first reaction is to get the ******** out of there, but Knives’ voice booms over the screams. “Quiet!” he shouts as he pops a bullet off. Everybody shuts up and turns to look back at him. “I have a proposition for all of you! That includes you as well Vash. Sit down and listen!” He leans close to his twin’s ear, inhaling the gentle fragrance of sandalwood that he’s accumulated over the years from basically living in bars. “I’ve taken a small term to heart and thought. ‘Learn from the past.’ And that’s just what I‘ve done. You see Vash, we have a triple negative here, which sadly, you were never one for math. No matter how hard that b***h tried to beat it into your ear, it just went in one ear and out the other.”

At this, Vash’s eyes dilate as he begins to loose all thought. First... he kills Rem... and now he’s calling her such names!

Knives continues, chuckling as his brother struggles, only to be rewarded with more pain. “You see, all of the doors in this studio are locked on the outside. You can only leave from the inside, but the insides are wired. The other thing that is wired is that little wrist band upon your slut’s arm.” At this, the other man holding Wolfwood, the musician pulls up the battered man’s sleeve to show the small, circular silver band. “Both of those things are bombs, ready to go off if anybody tampers with them. Here’s the kicker.” He looks up, not letting the pressure up on his less than equal, addressing the people. “If anybody messes with his new accessory, it will detonate the wired doors, taking this whole place down, killing each and every one of you. Where as we will be fine without a scratch. And if any of you try to escape, his armband will go off, killing him and letting you all live. For one of you to live, the other must die.”

Vash’s eyes roll slightly as a long-buried memory finds it’s way to the surface. Knives and him... in a green field... playful laughter. A butterfly, caught in a spider’s web. Blurred vision, a cynical voice, a sob and then yelling. Swirling then an abrupt stop. “There must be a sacrifice for one to survive.” These words echo through his mind as he comes back to reality.

He listens to the mumbles of the audience, hearing them clatter about just trying to get out and killing one person who is obviously a ‘bad guy’ and saving themselves.

Knives laughs slightly at hearing the audiences’ not so secret plan. “Oh, did I forgot?” Legato laughed slightly at Knive’s ‘forgetfulness’.

“Oh, Knives. How could you forget the most crucial part of this entire experiment? I think your mind is finally going on your, sir.”

Knives smiles with a defined laugh, shaking his finger at Legato. “To all you insignificant dots, if you do open those doors, not only will that armband explode, but it will also release a micro virus that can be ingested just by breathing. The virus will spread through your body, making your esophagus swell, your circulation cut off, your heart explode within your chest. All this before your brain sub-comes to the abyss of the other realm. You will feel every bit of pain as your nerve endings flare up like fire-crackers.”

“But you’ll go down with us!” Shouts one of the men in the audience

With another one of those knowing laughs dripping with the very essence of venom, he turns to the man and begins; “Ah, that is where you are wrong my good sir. You see... Vash and I were born with very different and special DNA to which the virus cannot effect. And I’ve given some of my blood to all of my colleagues, including Wolfwood, so only you will die.“ Knives leans down to talk into Vash’s ear once again, making sure every word that he is about to say would be sure to strike a cord. He began to whisper, but slowly, his voice raised so the others could hear him. “In other words, for your fragile mind to understand, it’s like asking why a spider doesn’t get caught in it’s own web when the butterfly only becomes more entangled when it struggles. Simply unique additives that nature and God has given us to survive.” He looks up at the audience again, his voice booming over the whispers. “You are all butterflies caught in my virus web! I am immune to it’s poisonous bite where as the more you struggle to fight it and stay alive, the more it constricts your organs and burns every single tissue to a fine ash. Truly beautiful, really. Wouldn’t you agree Legato?”

His quiet comrade only nods, agreeing whole-heartedly with the blooming image that began playing in his mind.

Vash’s eyes began to water modestly. “Rem.” He whispers. The entire flash back comes to him, where as before it was only bits and pieces. He now knows when his brother had truly snapped... but never fully understood why.

“So, I suggest that you all stay where the ******** you are.” The Horn-freak said with an evil glare, leaning down to nestle Wolfwoods cheek, nipping along his ear.

Wolfwood had stumbled to his knees a couple minutes earlier and had stayed here, unable to do anything. Blood ran from the creased wound upon his forehead as his breath heaved slightly. He struggled slightly, trying to get away from the luscious tongue that outlined his earlobe. He could hear a laugh and then, everything went black. He could still hear everything, but as for his site, it was jolted. Legato had hit him square in the temple. With such a powerful punch, he’s lucky he’s not dead.

“You can still save them Vash.” Letting up on his twin and helping him up as if he were a small child who had fallen from learning how to walk, he casually dusts his alter-ego off and looks strait into his eyes. “All you have to do to save all your precious humans is... kill him.” He says with a very low and strangely seductive tone as he points to the blind, tethered, and faithless servant of God.

Vash’s eyes narrow as he looks directly into the insane eyes of his mirrored counter-part. “No.”

“Remember Vash, for one to live the other must die. I know how you care about death. And wouldn’t it be better to kill one than all these other nice people? Go on. Put that left arm of yours to good use. Or do I have to teach you how to use that right arm of yours once again? You still haven’t seemed to learn how to use it. Come now Vash. You know as well as I do that in this world we’re living in, nothing is sacred. Why try to preserve their puny lives when all they do is built to destroy each other. You’re fighting a loosing battle Vash, and you know it.”

“But it’s the right battle.”

“You really need to sort out your priorities Vash.” Knives says with a smirk.

Tears race down the Typhoon’s face, turning the bridge of his nose and his cheeks a tinted shade of rose that horribly clashes with the trench coat that’s color gives soft reminders of a flower... a red geranium. There had to be some other way... he couldn’t kill Knives... They would all expect it. Legato would be able to read what Vash’s true intentions were. His shoulders heave up and down gently, he doesn’t know what to do. For the first time... he’s afraid. For the first time ever since Rem’s death. She had always taught him to be strong, and he was always strong, for Rem’s sake. He had always followed her teachings, and the most important one that he practically lived by was; “Nobody has the right to take another person‘s life.” He’s never taken a life intentionally... could he honestly start now? He clears his mind and searches vigorously for another way, another answer.

“Knives... I’ll beg you for another alternative.”

“I don’t want you to beg, Vash. I want you to make a decision.”

“I’ve already made my decision for that option. I want another.”

“We can’t always get what he want.”

“You do. Don’t you think, as your brother, I get the same benefits?”

Knives thinks on this for a moment, looking at the plead within his brothers now blood-shot eyes. “Hmmm... then what do you propose?”

Vash runs his gloved digits through those surprisingly silken strands of his and takes a deep breath. “To... join with you... as a Gun-ho Gun.”

Knives’ smirk grows into a sort of hopeful smile. “You’re that damn pathetic... that ******** attached to these animals that you would join with us? You would do the second thing you hate most? You really are weak Vash. I’m ashamed to call you my brother. I’m sickened that we share the same blood.”

“Please Knives. I’ll join with you if they are able to live and we leave here, along with Wolfwood.”

Knives ponders over this for a minute or so, looking from Vash to Legato then back. He nods. “I’ve waited a long time for this little Vash. You’ve made the right choice.”

“Then why do I feel so wrong?” He asks, looking down. The studio falls eerily silent as they listen to the ‘hero’ give up.

With a smile, Knives simply says, “You’ll get used to it.” Looking over to the almost unconscious priest he raises his hand. “Kill him.”

“What! We made a deal! I know you Knives! No matter how ******** up and sadistic you are you won’t go back on your word!” Vash screams at the other man who holds a calm face, slowly piercing Vash’s soul with those hollow, ghost-blue eyes.

“You’re right. I never go back on my word. Those pathetic pieces of God’s excrement's will live, but you never specified on how Wolfwood would come with us. He’ll be easier to drag once he’s a lifeless shell. Besides, I‘m not leaving without seeing some bloodshed.” He chuckles at the last part.

“No!” Vash screams as the leather busts away from his left arm, letting the transformation take place. As he gets ready to shoot, he sees the two men fall to the ground from the corner of his eye. Grunting, twitching and bleeding from both the open wounds on their chests as well as blood draining from their mouths. Wolfwood slowly stands up, leaning against a wall for balance. Nobody realized that as soon as they brought him out, he had been working on escaping from his bindings. He had two daggers in his coat pocket and as Midvalley lifted him up to let Legato do the honors of giving him a crimson smile along his neck, Nick had grabbed the daggers and swung his arms back, stabbing both men in the heart with amazing accuracy.

With a low grumble, Knives pulls up his gun, pointing at Wolfwood’s head. “Do I have to do everything myself?!”

Running over, Vash grabs his arm and looks up into his brothers loathsome eyes. “Please Knives! Don’t! You’ve seen your bloodshed! Let him live...” He ends with a whisper, actually getting through to the sadistic twin. The man lowers his gun and begins to show just a bit of compassion, wrapping his arms around the sobbing sibling.

The people, who are backed up against the wall but not daring to touch the doors, scream in horror as they hear an ear-drumming blast go off... the sound of a gun shot.

Knives slumps over his twin, his eyes dilated and slightly hazed. His breathing begins to slow as blood slides down the left arm of the murderous Vash the Stampede.

“You’ve finally gone against... everything you’ve ever stood for... you’ve committed murder intentionally. Rem will shun you... and you will not enter into the blissful heaven... of which you speak so highly of. So dishonest... cunning and deceitful. Never thought you had it in you...”

“I joined as a Gun-ho Gun, remember? Never trust Gun-ho Gun.”

Knives lets out a low laugh, coughing up blood violently, and still leaning upon the man who’s tears no longer flow from his once peaceful eyes. They talk calmly... serenely... as if they were having lunch. “I knew we couldn’t be that different. You’re just like me... Vash the Stampede.”

“No, Millions Knives. I’m nothing like you. I’ve killed for redemption. You killed for pleasure.”

“Yes... but it did feel good. Didn’t it?”

Vash stays silent as he looks down on his sibling’s back, laying one hand upon the other’s shoulder, patting it gently. He soon hears a loud thud, the sound of Knives dropping his prized gun.

“You can’t deny it, Vash.” He closes his eyes, beginning to slip. “I’ll see you in Hell, murderer.”

Vash sighs softly. “I‘ll meet you at the obsidian gates, brother.”

Just as the word ‘murderer’ had ripped through Vash, the word ‘brother’ does the same to Knives. They each know each other’s weakness... the thing they hate most... each other. To be called what the other is... it’s a splintering bullet through each of their bodies, penetrating every organ within them.

Knives’ pulse slows and finally halts as his body begins to turn as cold as the iced wall that has existed around his heart ever since childhood.

Gently, he sets his reflection down and walks over to Wolfwood, holding him up and letting gentle questions roll off his tongue while the audience mumbles quietly to themselves. Wondering how they’re going to get out. Are they still in danger? The ‘bad guy’ is dead, but they’re still trapped there with Vash the Stampede. The Humanoid Typhoon.

A shadow is shown moving against the dusky, orange horizon of the lonely Gunsmoke. Two mounds are shown, the third will soon exist once the hole is dug. The gravedigger stops and leans on his red-clay smothered shovel and sighs lightly, reminiscing back to earlier that day...

After everything was said and done... the audience was surprisingly calm. Now they just needed a way out. Vash searched through his twin’s pockets, finding a small detonator in the looser side pocket. He clicked a button, making the flashing red diode die out and the green one light up. As he did this... so did all the other bombs attached at the top of the doors and Wolfwood’s arm band, which also unlocked and fell to the ground.

When they were finally able to the see the light of day, cops surrounded the building. Loud sirens, the captain on the megaphone telling everybody to slowly come out with their hands up. Larry had called them from the studio around the beginning when Knives first pulled out his gun. He had ran up to the editing room and had stayed there throughout the entire ordeal.

He took a breather and proceeded to dig a couple more feet down.

The Captain had asked a couple people what had gone on. The only mention of Vash the Stampede sent the cops into a frenzy. They didn’t listen to his acts of heroism, one good deed can’t redeem all the bad acts that has been set upon his shoulders to bare as he wanders this almost desolate planet.

The hostages served as a good distraction as Vash made his way out the back, lugging all three bodies upon his shoulders. This was his burden and nobody else‘s. He wasn’t afraid of being sent to prison, he was afraid of the paramedics taken the corpses. It was his job to bury them, not theirs. They did, however, take Wolfwood to the hospital.

The two suns cry molten tears for this man who’s burdens just won’t lift. It’s history in the making when the sun’s turn in early on Gunsmoke, letting Vash taste the cool night air upon his charred and now tan skin. They stay along the horizon. Keeping him warm enough so the night chill doesn’t rack his bones and giving him some light to finish his work. That night, they make a silent, elemental pact to rest early every year on this day.

Almost done with the hole, he begins to climb out, still trying to figure certain things out? He picks up his twin and gently sets him down within his make-shift grave. Vash pulls the cold hands to rest on the empty stomach in a serene manner and looks at him with both pain and curiosity in his eyes. “What goes around, comes around Knives.” With that, he climbs out of the grave and proceeds to fill it in.

There was a detonator in his pocket... but why would he have that? He didn’t need it. The way everything was wired... he wasn’t very far from the bombs. He, nor the others were afraid to die. In fact, they pursued death. He said there was no way to save one without killing the other. Why did he not let on about the remote? I know he wanted me to kill Wolfwood, but why didn‘t he add pressure? He could have told me that he would kill them all under a time limit. Maybe that was to much. Maybe he wanted me to come to the conclusion of joining him. Even in previous battles he never hid things like that. So, why would he this time?

Vash couldn’t find answers to these questions. He pats the shovel on the clay mound and then begins building a headstone. It’s just two pieces of wood tied together in a cross with only the shell of a twin’s name written across it.

The now ex-Gun-ho Gun drops to one knee in front of the grave and clasps his hands together. His lips never move and his thoughts completely clear. He stays in that position for a couple minutes. No pray escapes from his being... you can’t pray for one who is already dead and who’s afterlife is already chosen.

Standing up, he holsters his gun and put it’s counterpart in an inside pocket within his trench coat, unloaded of course. As he begins to walk away, slinging a small pack of the others valuables over his shoulder, a possible answer crosses into his mind. He begins talking lowly to himself, a warm breath against the slowly chilling air around him.

“Was this his plan all along? He knew I would never shoot Wolfwood nor let the people be hurt, and that I wouldn’t shoot him... at least not in front of others. But he pushed me too it. I thought he wanted our final words to only be heard by each other, nobody else... but it was all caught on tape... which will be shown to the police. He would never give himself away like that... he was the puppeteer who lived through the puppet... me. All of his follies were my fault.” Stopping in his tracks, he stared up to the stars. “He knew... he knew he would die today. He knew that I would kill him. He knew that bringing up the past of our first tiff on operation seed... where we first realized that we lived in two completely different worlds would trigger me. That’s why he equipped the bombs with a fail-safe mechanism... he knew I would kill him and would save the people. But why? If he knew he was going to die, why would he let us live in his death.” He thinks about this for a good hard five minutes, connecting stars in constellation form as his mind riddles through hundreds of possible answers. Some of those answers even contradicting other questions he had before. “He wanted me to live... so I could feel the guilt of true murder... I did it, first hand. I’ve broken Rem’s rule... how could I? If those bombs would have went off, I might have been killed as well. That would have been an eye for and eye. It would have been to easy. I wouldn’t have been redeemed... but some of the guilt and sin would have been lifted from my heart. Now... I have to live with it... and suicide will do nothing but worsen the situation of my afterlife.” He looked down to the ground, his legs becoming tired, his back already hurting from digging three graves. He had to keep going though, he had to get back into town. They would probably arrest him, but he had to get to Wolfwood, he was in pretty bad shape.

He began his trudge once again, almost dragging his feet, hugging his coat tighter, his shades hanging desperately to the side of his pocket where he had absent-mindedly set them. A couple more minutes into his new-found steps, he began talking out thoughts to himself again. “He knew I was lying when I said I’d join... that’s why he hugged me. This... was all a game to him. And with his death... he’s won. He rests knowing I’ve done the one thing that I’ve always sworn never to do. Yes, we would have faced off and one of us would have shed out our crimson life force. But I was ready for that. At least he would have been ready with weapon drawn. I feel like I’ve shot him in the back. He hugged me... a sense of trust and I shot him. Even though he was expecting it, possibly even wanting it... I still feel dirty. He died getting exactly what he wanted. In society’s eyes, I’m the hero who saved everybody, who won. In truth, I did. I saved the world from Knives and without his guidance or leadership, the Gun-ho Guns will slowly wither away and travel their own paths. But that’s only for society. Really, I’ve lost my own personal war. I never wanted it to happen like that. Even though I knew it was going to happen none-the-less... but not like that.

Finally making it into town, he dodges the people and police alike. Slowly, he leaves dead prints within the sun-baked sand as he walks into the hospital. He can hear children crying, mothers trying to calm them down, intercoms blasting, and small alarms going off. Looking up, he hears an emergency being announced and watches as the paramedics run in, bringing a person in on a stretcher. Using this distraction, he runs behind the desk and looks through some files. Finding a certain one, he flips through, finds what he wants and shoves it back into place. Sweeping down the halls, cutting corners and keeping a sharp eye out for authorities, he slips into the desired room and shuts the door.

He takes off his trademark shades and beholds a more horrifying site than looking into the very pits of Hell. It’s Wolfwood... attached to at least ten different tubes and wires. Three machines standing by his side, monitoring heartbeat, pulse, breathing, blood pressure, blood sugar, and any other vital signs. And an I. V. needle penetrating the vein in his left arm.

Walking over quietly, he kneels down and takes the man’s hand. A silent prayer escapes his parched lips for the gun-toting preacher.

“I hate needles...” A gruff voice says with a hint of dazed yawn.

Vash looks up, his eyes wide. “Wolfy!” He nearly shouts as he softly wraps the man in his leather-clad arms. He calms down and takes Nick’s hand within his again.

“Ah... shut up needle-noggin. You’ll wake up the whole hospital.”

“I was worried... I knew you were beaten... but... not to this extent.”

“That punch Legato gave me... I have a contusion... the doctors say I‘ll be lucky to even remember my own name after the drugs wear off. Plus, I have two broken ribs and severe internal bleeding.” Wolfwood says, unable to move much but his head, his eyes clenching with the small bursts of pain that the painkillers keep missing.

There’s a long pause, both bathing in the other’s presence. Giving each other silent guidance through their near future.

“I can’t tell you how truly sorry I am, Vash.” He struggles to talk, scared blood could surge out his mouth at any moment. “All the bullshit I put you through, the deceit... I’ll take it to my grave soon.”

Vash’s pearly eyes lower, not in shame of this man... but in another prayer. He knows what his love wants. It’s his last wish. Standing up, still holding the preacher’s hand in a loose grip, he reaches over and makes a simple yanking motion with his arm, pulling the cords out of the wall. The delicate beeps of the various machines stop and the flashing lines slowly deplete and die. With a simple, single tear scratching a small trail down his fragile cheek, the seemingly rough, tough typhoon leans over and gives an atom-soft kiss to the only man he’s ever loved; his lips trembling as a quiet cry works through his chest.

Vash reaches over and dives into Nick’s coat pocket that’s resting on the back of the guest chair. He pulls out both a cigarette and lighter. Gently placing the butt-end between the man’s thin lips, he lights up the f** and returns the lighter to it’s resting place. “Save a couple doughnuts for me, I know they’ve gotta have buffet up there.”

With a low chuckle and small cough, Wolfwood turns his foggy, leaving eyes to the needle-noggin. “You’re too fat.”

Setting his shades upon his now rosy nose, he smiles. “I can always diet.” Turning around, he begins to walk out, putting his arm up and flicking his fingers, giving the bed-bound man a backwards wave. “Sweet dreams, Cowboy.” With that, he walks out, closing the door softly behind him.

After hearing the latch lock into place, Nicholas reaches over and picks up a small black book. Opening it up to a certain page... Psalm:23... he reads a certain passage out loud to himself, slowly feeling his organs that were still in working condition begin to run out of steam. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil...” He shuts the book and looks up at the ceiling, taking a puff of his cigarette as he finishes the sentence, but with his own spin. “... for I am the baddest mother ******** in the valley.” With that last comment, he closes his eyes only half-way. The divine gleam that had long lived within the preacher’s eyes slowly fell and dissolved into nothingness. The cigarette burns dry and falls from his mouth, rolling off his wrapped, brawny chest and hits the linoleum floor.

Vash waits in the men’s restroom. When the doctors come back out of Nick’s room, they simply shake their heads and tell another doctor to get prepped for his removal. When they leave, Vash sneaks in again and takes all of the tubing and wires off of the man. Picking him up with a gentle heave, he runs back out of the hospital... how he’s able to get passed everybody is still a mystery. He runs from the hospital and slows down to a walking pace. Which he’s been doing for well over a full 24 hours. He carries the limp body close to his chest, letting the deaf ear listen to his surprisingly petite heartbeat.

That night, a shadow is seen heaving with a shovel... the fourth one.

An hour later, the shovel is thrown down into the dirt after having patted away the dust on the final pile of ground thrown to cover the grave. A small cross headstone is erected with only the man’s name engraved upon it like all the others. The figured turns to look at the orphanage about 50 yards away. He takes a moment to be silent and pray. He then gives the building, and all who may still reside within it, his blessings. Moving his right arm up, down then left to right in a ‘Sign of the Cross’ gesture.

He turns to walk away, a huge cross burdening his back and legs. He smiles to himself, laughing gently at everything that happened ever since they met. He’s been called many things... never needle-noggin. Looking up to the starry heavens, he remembers an old quote a friend of his used to say: “We’re not God. Not only are our powers limited, we sometimes are driven to become the devil himself.” - Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

Even though he died, the spider still won the war. Knowing that the innocent butterfly would forever be entangled within his web’s narcissistic and brutal silken threads that would weave in and out between the butterfly’s paper wings, straining every ounce of bitter nectar from his life being until he sub came to the dizzying haze and prepared to burn in his own Armageddon.

~The End.~