Wolfwood's new profession

Chapter Seventeen: Arrivals and Departures

Wolfwood shaded his eyes from the suns, incredibly bright even through his sunglasses. The light reflecting off the hull of the ship pierced through his brain and aggravated the already pounding headache that was present. He shifted the cross on his shoulder and trudged forward, shoes slipping in the sand.

He took one last, long drag on his cigarette before rebelliously stubbing it out on the side of the ship, dropping in into the sand at his feet.

‘Let Legato pick the damn thing up…’

He took a deep breath as his gut twisted and he shifted uncomfortably, knocking lightly on the entrance panel. It looked exactly the same as all the others, but for a slight marking in the top corner, a logo from some forgotten past before the crash.

The door hissed slightly and the priest stepped back to let it unfold. He squinted into the darkness of the doorway, knowing someone was there but unable to see them. A figure shifted in the gloom and spoke, sending a shiver of trepidation down the priest’s back.

“Chapel. I’m glad you made it…”

“Yeah…Whatever. Can we get this over and done with?”

The telepath chuckled deeply.

“But I always thought you liked to draw it out, Chapel. Make a real go of it…”

Wolfwood tried not to hear the insinuation in Legato’s voice and stepped forward into the doorway, shouldering past the Servant roughly. He walked fast, hoping that by sheer speed he would escape what he feared was coming. But it wasn’t to be. Legato casually reached out and wrapped around his mind, freezing him in place. Wolfwood started to sweat, horror snaking it’s way around his heart.

“Ah ah ah…” The telepath chided. “Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t even said hello properly yet…”

‘Not again…God, I couldn’t handle it again…’ A sudden urge to cry rose as he felt the servant’s hands glide across his chest from behind, a body pressed full length against him for an instant. Legato circled round in front of him, a predatory smirk dancing across his face. Wolfwood twitched in Legato’s grasp on his mind, trying to turn away as the Servant’s hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb rubbing against the stubble there. Wolfwood wanted to close his eyes, to look away but the monster in front of him held his gaze.

Suddenly Legato’s eyes went hazy and after a moment or two he nodded. Wolfwood almost flinched when Legato turned his gaze back on the priest, filled with ire and regret.

“Hmmm…You’re lucky today. The master wants to see you straight away. Doesn’t give me time for any pleasantries. How…mmm…unfortunate. For the both of us.”

The hand drifted away from his face and Wolfwood choked back a sigh of relief as Legato’s mind left him. He stepped forward on shaking feet and slowly made his way to the other end of the ship, trailed by the sulking telepath.

The first time Wolfwood had been called to see Knives, he’d lost his way, unable to find the ship in the vast desert. The plant had been incensed and had ordered the telepath to find him and bring him back. Days spent stumbling through the sands, unable to lift a hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes, unable to call out for rest or water, unable to communicate even his basest needs to his captor. Or maybe the telepath just chose to ignore them. They rested when Legato wanted, ate when he was hungry, drank when he was thirsty. And when he wanted other things…well…

Wolfwood had been in utter hell for the week it took them to arrive. Every night the telepath had forced some new act of degradation on him, compelling his own limbs when the priest wouldn’t co-operate. He subdued Wolfwood’s cries of protest when the fancy took him, other times letting them ring out across the deserted desert. The last night had been the worst, a complete possession taking place as Wolfwood felt his body responding to the telepath’s advances, heard moans rising from a throat he had no control over. He shuddered in remembrance and hastened his step, hearing the hollow footfalls of Legato behind him in the darkened hallways.

‘Never again…not if I can help it…’

He rounded a corner, wincing at the illumination flooding the room from the skylight. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the spots in front of his eyes. He didn’t understand how, here, in the darkest place on Gunsmoke, it could appear so bright and cheerful, so unlike the monster which dwelt in it’s depths.

He heard Legato drop into a servile position beside him and blindly set the Cross Punisher down, making his own bow.

“Knives-sama. I have brought him as you requested.” He heard Legato murmur, rising again to his feet. He raised his gaze till he could see Vash’s brother, a small shudder of fear ripping through him.

Knives was smiling at him.

Never a good sign.

He bowed his head again slightly in greeting, eyes returning to the floor in pretend deference.

“How may I serve?”

Knives rose slowly, smile still in place, except it had taken on a slightly cruel shade. He paused and the silence stretched out, making Wolfwood jump when his quiet voice, filled with restrained anger, snaked around the large chamber.

“I might ask you, Chapel…How you have been serving my brother…?”

Wolfwood froze, eyes locked on the floor in front of him.

‘He knows! Holy shit, he knows! I’m dead!’

He felt rather than saw Legato smirk beside him as Knives quickly pulled all his thoughts and memories of Vash to the front of his mind with contemptuous ease. Wolfwood felt his legs go weak and he crashed to his knees, holding onto the Cross Punisher for support. He swayed slightly as Knives picked through his thoughts, reliving each moment as the plant inspected it and tossed it aside.

The first time they kissed…the gift Vash had given him…the confessions of love, exchanged in heated embraces…

Knives laughed openly at that. His booted feet stopped in front of Wolfwood and a vice took hold of his body, raising his head and centring his eyes on Knives’ smirking face.

“You love him don’t you? You’re actually in love with him…” He sneered down at the kneeling priest. “Well…I guess I’ll just have to use that to my advantage.” He stepped away slightly but didn’t release the telepathic hold on Wolfwood. “When you return you will continue this…’affair’ with my brother. The plan will go forward. I feel that he will trust you more if he believes in your love for him. It will make your betrayal that much sweeter, won’t it Chapel? Won’t it be wonderful? To see the grief in his eyes as he realises it’s all been a lie?” Knives chuckled to himself, eyes distant as he imagined the look on his brother’s face. Suddenly his gaze snapped back to the priest’s, avidly absorbing the sadness and horror he witnessed there. He stepped forward again.

“What’s the matter? Does this upset you?” He trailed a finger down Wolfwood cheek, following the trail a tear might take if Wolfwood had been allowed to cry.

“Too bad…so sad” Knives murmured condescendingly before removing his finger and whipping his gloved palm across the priest’s cheek, sharp sound cracking the air. Wolfwood choked back a cry, subtly stretching his jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken. Knives leaned down, placing his mouth right next to Wolfwood’s ear. The priest shuddered as the plant spoke in low tones, the malice in his voice unmistakable.

“Don’t you even think about running back to him and telling him what’s happening. I know more than one method to kill someone in a slow agonising way. Or I could just give you to Legato…I’m sure he’d love that…” He stood back and let the priest’s mind work over what he’d just said, noting the shudder working it’s way across Wolfwood’s body. He released him and watched as the priest stood shakily.

“You will leave now. Go back to him. Make him believe it. You will be contacted when the time comes.”

Wolfwood nodded, eyes downcast. He shouldered the cross and turned back to the door, finding the smirking telepath blocking his way.

“Legato…” Knives called and the Servant looked attentive, ignoring the priest. “Leave him alone. He’s got enough to do without you harassing him.”

The telepath bowed and stepped aside to let him pass, but not without a parting comment, low enough so just the priest could hear.

“I hope he gives you to me…I know a few new things I could teach you…” He snickered quietly and Wolfwood shuddered, quickening his step.

He made it out of the ship without encountering anyone else, his shaking hand fumbling for a cigarette in the afternoon sun. He inhaled deeply, feeling slightly calmer now that it was all over.

He knew what would happen now. When he brought Vash, when the gunman followed him blindly to his brother’s ship, Knives would kill the priest in front of him. Foolish plans swam through his mind, each one more ludicrous than the last. Nothing could be done, nowhere they could hide. If Vash knew, he’d probably force the confrontation himself…

“Vash…”

Wolfwood quickened his step, the urge to see the gunman rising. To hold him, to press his nose into his hair and run his tongue across his navel, to hear his moans and find out what other sounds he could wring from the Stampede’s throat. To drown himself in the other man and forget all about Knives and his plans…forget about Legato and his wandering hands, nails sharp and ready to tear his flesh should he misstep.

He walked faster, almost running, the Cross Punisher bouncing painfully on his shoulder with each step. He didn’t even feel it.

‘Vash…I’m coming home.’

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Sorry it's so late! OMG i didn't even realise the posting date had gone past - I've been so busy!

Hope everyone's enjoyed the chapter, please review, well...you don't have to but it lets me know how I'm doing :) I'll post chapters regardless lol

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