[ This is going to end with Stampede's blood on his hands again, Wolfwood knows. Only this time, nobody will die.
Probably.
Because he hates this. He hates being here, he hates how many Vashes there are here, and he hates how completely transparent he seems to be to them. At the end, did he say anything? What's he supposed to say to that, yes? Confess that he said thanks, and walked off to his execution? How's that make it any better? A man asks you to shoot him in the head and you do it, you're still a killer.
Stampede takes a step forward and asks about the kids, and Wolfwood has to take a long, slow breath to stop himself from breaking Stampede's flapping jaw. The Eye used the orphanage and the lives of the kids there to control his body -- Stampede is skirting right up to the edge of using them to control Wolfwood's heart and mind. He didn't have a choice, with the Eye, but he sure as fuck has a choice here, and if Stampede weren't already crying about wanting to die, he'd be on the ground bleeding. Those kids are off limits, to everyone. They won't be anyone's tools.
If you want to die so badly, then just do it. The words are on the tip of his tongue, pressing against the front of his mind. He opens his mouth to set them free... then closes it again, his teeth clicking together. If he says to do it, Stampede might actually do it. Or, maybe worse, he won't do it, and Wolfwood will have to deal with the even sadder and more pathetic version of the wet rag he's hired as a bodyguard.
In the end, there's only one answer he can give. ]
He didn't want to die.
[ Whether it's true or not he'll never know. He'll never know what Spikey was really thinking during those weeks on the road, or during that long walk into the city and up into Knives's tower. But he saw the man running for his life... and before that, he saw him happy. Saw him laughing with the short girl, swapping stories with the old drunk, saw his childhood home and the smile all those people brought out of him. Vash the Stampede might have been old and aching, but he was the most vibrant, alive person Wolfwood had ever met.
And now he's dead.
The dry desert air makes its way behind Wolfwood's sunglasses, and his eyes prickle wetly in response. They need to keep moving.
Without another word Wolfwood turns and heads off in the direction they'd been traveling. ]
no subject
Probably.
Because he hates this. He hates being here, he hates how many Vashes there are here, and he hates how completely transparent he seems to be to them. At the end, did he say anything? What's he supposed to say to that, yes? Confess that he said thanks, and walked off to his execution? How's that make it any better? A man asks you to shoot him in the head and you do it, you're still a killer.
Stampede takes a step forward and asks about the kids, and Wolfwood has to take a long, slow breath to stop himself from breaking Stampede's flapping jaw. The Eye used the orphanage and the lives of the kids there to control his body -- Stampede is skirting right up to the edge of using them to control Wolfwood's heart and mind. He didn't have a choice, with the Eye, but he sure as fuck has a choice here, and if Stampede weren't already crying about wanting to die, he'd be on the ground bleeding. Those kids are off limits, to everyone. They won't be anyone's tools.
If you want to die so badly, then just do it. The words are on the tip of his tongue, pressing against the front of his mind. He opens his mouth to set them free... then closes it again, his teeth clicking together. If he says to do it, Stampede might actually do it. Or, maybe worse, he won't do it, and Wolfwood will have to deal with the even sadder and more pathetic version of the wet rag he's hired as a bodyguard.
In the end, there's only one answer he can give. ]
He didn't want to die.
[ Whether it's true or not he'll never know. He'll never know what Spikey was really thinking during those weeks on the road, or during that long walk into the city and up into Knives's tower. But he saw the man running for his life... and before that, he saw him happy. Saw him laughing with the short girl, swapping stories with the old drunk, saw his childhood home and the smile all those people brought out of him. Vash the Stampede might have been old and aching, but he was the most vibrant, alive person Wolfwood had ever met.
And now he's dead.
The dry desert air makes its way behind Wolfwood's sunglasses, and his eyes prickle wetly in response. They need to keep moving.
Without another word Wolfwood turns and heads off in the direction they'd been traveling. ]