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“I spy with my little eye, something that starts with ‘S’.”
“…”
“What, nothing? C’mon, this is an easy one!”
“Vash, we’re not playing ‘I Spy’.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no point! We’re in the middle of No Man’s Land! There’s nothing around but sand!”
“Hey, you got it! Good guess! Okay, your turn.”
“Are you even listening? We’re not doing this!”
“Aw, come on, Meryl! Play along!”
“No! Take a nap or something.”
“I already took a nap though…”
“Well, take another one!”
The van lapsed into blessed silence, finally, as the puppy pouted. Roberto sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples. God, what he wouldn’t give for more alcohol right now. Unfortunately, he’d finished the last of the moonshine he’d bummed off a drunk in the last town they’d passed through. With the next settlement at least 2 hours away, he was pretty much shit outta luck.
He didn’t believe in karma or fate or anything like that, but he was pretty sure he’d been an axe murderer that ate kittens for funsies in a past life. How else could he explain the conga line of misfortune that had followed him ever since he’d gotten saddled with the newbie? The chances of finding Vash the fucking Stampede himself in the middle of buttfuck nowhere had to be astronomical. He’d spent years wandering this miserable dustbowl of a planet in search of stories, but he’d never gotten so much as a glimpse of the infamous Humanoid Typhoon. The moment he got stuck with the newbie? Bam—there Vash was, right in his path.
Then, there was Wolfwood. One lone traveler, on foot, in the ass-end of No Man’s Land, and the newbie just happened to broadside him with the trailer? There had been no significant settlements for miles in any direction of where they’d first encountered Wolfwood, Roberto knew. No reason for a supposed ‘undertaker’ to be wandering the blistering sands. The subsequent trip through a giant worm’s digestive system had just been icing on the shit cake.
Now, here he was, stuck in a small space for hours at a time with three annoying kids that never shut up for longer than a minute. Case in point, the argument that had erupted while Roberto had been lost in thought.
“Spikey, I swear to all that is holy, if you poke me again, I’m gonna rip your fingers off and make you eat them!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop! Sheesh…”
Roberto watched Hissy scowl in the rearview mirror, then reach into his jacket pocket for a cig. Wolfwood reminded Roberto of a feral cat: hissing and clawing at every perceived threat, while trying to look more intimidating than he was. It was almost kind of cute how hard Wolfwood tried. Too bad for him that Roberto could see right through his tough act to the scared, hurt boy underneath.
“Hey! No smoking in the car!” Newbie snapped, eyes on the rearview mirror as well, instead of on the windshield like they should be. Jesus, Roberto sincerely hoped this wasn’t going to end in another repeat of their meeting with Hissy. He didn’t think he could survive another tagalong.
“What? Why not?” Hissy demanded.
“Because we’ve still got an hour and a half to go and I don’t want this place to smell like more of an ashtray then it already does.”
“He gets to smoke!” Hissy pointed an accusing finger at the back of Roberto’s head. “Why can’t I?”
“He’s not allowed to smoke either.” She patted her right-hand jacket pocket. “I’ve made sure of that.”
Roberto huffed sourly at the reminder, slouching in his seat. Damned newbie had confiscated his smokes while he hadn’t been paying attention, promising to return them the next time they took a piss stop somewhere. He gazed longingly at the ashtray stuffed full of snuffed-out butts. A smoke would be a nice way to take his mind off of things, but…ugh. Yeah, he could strongarm the newbie into giving the smokes back, but it was too much effort.
Hissy snorted. “You can’t tell me what to do.” He popped a smoke out of the carton, setting it in his mouth, then reached for his lighter—only to stop short. “Huh?” He patted at his pocket, then opened his jacket as if to look through the inner pockets.
“Looking for this?” Puppy held up the lighter in question with a bright smile.
Lord but did Vash the Stampede resemble a puppy. Friendly, eager, and loyal to a fault: Vash embodied the spirit of dumb dogs everywhere. Unfortunately for Roberto, Vash also lacked any sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Like now, for instance. You didn’t take a smoker’s light, man, not if you wanted to remain amongst the living.
“You—when did you get that?” Hissy demanded, lunging to grab it. Puppy leaned away, shoving the lighter back into his jacket pocket. “Give it!”
“Nope!” Puppy grinned cheekily, popping the ‘p’. “Not yet. I’ll give it to you at the next rest stop.”
Hissy growled. “That ain’t yours, Blondie! Hand it over!” He clambered over the seat, half-laying on top of the other man as he struggled to gain access to Puppy’s pockets. The puppy squawked indignantly, hunching over in a bid to protect his illbegotten goods.
“Don’t worry, the next rest stop will be soon,” soothed Newbie. “Just another 20 minutes.”
“I don’t give a shit if it’s 20 minutes or 2 hours!” With a grunt of effort, Hissy managed to pull one of Puppy’s arms back just enough to free access to a pocket, bracing an elbow on the back of Puppy’s head. He stuck his hand in and groped around, prompting a yelp from Puppy. “You can’t fucking t—oh, hello!”
“What? What?” Puppy asked, voice muffled by his knees.
Hissy sat up with a chuckle, one hand holding Puppy’s head down while the other lifted up a bundle of brightly-coloured wrappers. An appropriately-phallic worm winked at him from the packaging.
“Are those condoms?” Newbie blurted, eyes wide.
Puppy’s head shot up, dislodging Hissy’s hand. “What? Oh.” He nudged the other man off, sitting up fully. “Yeah, I keep them for emergencies.”
“What kinda emergencies?” Hissy examined the packaging with a shit-eating grin. “Thinkin’ you might get lucky sometime, Spikey?”
Puppy flushed, sitting up properly. “Not like that! Condoms are useful for more than just sex, y’know! You can store stuff in them, fill ’em with sand to use as a sandbag, use ‘em as gloves, and as bandage protectors!”
“Sure, sure.” Hissy nodded along, still grinning. “Dunno what possible use there is for flavoured condoms aside from the obvious though.”
“It’s not like I chose them out myself. They were free,” Puppy muttered, fidgeting.
Hissy scoffed. “Not anymore they ain’t. You want ‘em back, you give me my lighter.” So saying, he shoved them into his jacket pocket.
Puppy smiled, amused. “Gosh, guess we’re both gonna have to be disappointed then.” He sat back, making himself comfortable as Hissy blinked at him, perplexed by his lack of a reaction. “Meryl, how long ‘til we get there now?”
“Slightly less than 20 minutes,” Newbie replied. “You’ll just have to go without protection until then.” The corner of her mouth ticked up in a mischievous smile. “Just like Wolfwood’s going to have to go without his nicotine fix.”
Hissy growled in response, flipping both her and Puppy off.
The van fell quiet once more. The endless sands and stark blue sky passed by in an endless loop. Roberto yawned, just about ready to doze off.
“Wake me up when we get to the rest stop, Newbie,” he ordered, tilting his chair back as far as it would go. Given that the van was probably as old as he was, that wasn’t very far. “Try not to run anyone else over while I’m out, huh?”
“That was one time!”
“And look where that got us.”
Hissy stirred from his sulk. “What’s that supposed to mean, old man?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, kid?” Roberto settled back, making himself as comfortable as it was possible to get in the crappy seat. He shut his eyes.
“I’m not a kid!”
“You’re all kids.” Good God, were they ever. Case in point—
“99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer…you take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall. 98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer…you take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer—ow, what was that for?”
“Y’wanna see what happens when I go into withdrawal, Spikes? ‘Cause you’re about to if you keep singing that song.”
“It’s been less than an hour since you last smoked!”
“So?”
“You can’t be going into withdrawal yet!”
“Shows what you know. Hey, Shorty—”
“My name is Meryl!”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Look over there real quick.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“No, not until you tell me why.”
“There’s a giant worm over there. You should look at it so that you don’t smack it like you did me.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you.”
“Hell no. You owe me for breaking all my ribs.”
“It was an accident!”
“Dropping a gun and shooting yourself in the foot is an accident. Hitting the only guy in the desert for miles is way too coincidental to be an accident.”
“Mmrgh…I’m still not going to look, y’know.”
”Come on! It’s just for a second!”
“No way, you’re up to something, I know it! Vash, keep an eye on him, please?”
“Can do! Oh, hang on…”
“What is it?”
“Wolfwood, where’s your gun?”
“What? It’s right her—shit!”
“Uh oh. Did you forget it in the last town?”
“I didn’t…at least, I don’t think I did. Fuck, we gotta turn back.”
“Let’s hope that it’s there or we’re in trouble.”
“Rrngh, shut up! Shorty, we’re headin’ back!”
“Guess that smoke break’s going to take a bit longer then, huh, Wolfwood?”
“I am going to wring your fucking neck, c’mere, Blondie—”
“Ah, help! Help! Assault!”
“Hey, stop that! Guys--!”
Roberto groaned, long and low, as the van swerved. So much for a quick nap. Sitting up, he grabbed the steering wheel and righted it before Newbie could flip them, then turned around to address the squabbling pair in the back. Newbie shouted from where she sat half-twisted in her seat, upper body angled toward the back while her foot remained on the accelerator. The van lurched as she suddenly remembered that the damned thing had brakes and applied them judiciously.
“Hey! Sit your asses down before I make you!” Roberto barked as the van screeched to a halt. Hissy paused in the middle of giving Puppy the mother of all noogies. They both blinked at him, surprised by his uncharacteristically stern tone. He gestured at them. “Break it up, you two. We’re gonna play a new game, starting right now. Wanna guess what it is?”
“Um. Is it the ‘stop-bullying-Vash’ game?” Vash volunteered hopefully after a moment of consideration.
“No, it’s called the ‘quiet game’. You two are gonna go to your corners and you’re both gonna keep nice and quiet for the duration of this trip. As for you, Newbie,” Roberto reached over and snatched his pack of cigs from her jacket pocket. He immediately lit one and stuck it in his mouth. “You’re gonna switch with me and you’re gonna let me smoke. Got it?”
A chorus of protests erupted from Hissy and Newbie. Puppy quietly scooted away from the now-distracted undertaker and hunched in his side of the backseat. Good to see at least one of the Troublesome Trio had some sense. Roberto inhaled some sweet, sweet nicotine into his lungs, before clearing his throat as phlegmatically as possible.
“Yeah, nah, don’t care,” he said, atop the noise. “Game starts now. If you don’t like it, you’re free to walk the rest of the way. Thus has Roberto spoken, thus it shall be.”
“C’mon, guys. Let’s just go with it,” Puppy wheedled. “The sooner we can retrieve Wolfwood’s cross, the sooner we can keep going.”
“You say that like you aren’t going to get bored 5 minutes in and start bothering us again,” Newbie retorted. She sighed. “But, I could use a break from driving. Fine.”
Hissy grunted in annoyance. “Whatever. Just give me my lighter back, Spikey.”
“Only if you give me my condoms back,” returned Puppy.
“Yeah, sure, you can have ‘em.” Hissy carelessly tossed the roll of condoms at Puppy, who scrabbled to catch it. He stretched out a hand, making ‘gimme!’ motions with it. “Lighter. Now.”
“Okay, okay.” Puppy dug in his pocket for a moment, retrieving the lighter. He hummed, eyeballing Hissy’s hand, then the lighter, then the hand again. A glint of mischief shone in his eye. With a sense of impending doom, Roberto watched Puppy slowly, but surely, pop the lighter into his mouth, swish it around a bit, then deposit it mouth-first into Hissy’s waiting hand. He grinned wide enough to split his face in half.
The van erupted once more into absolute pandemonium. The ancient chassis groaned as Hissy launched himself at Puppy, who flailed at the door. Newbie clambered into the back and threw her tiny body at them in a futile effort to stop them. All the while, shouts and curses painted the air blue.
God. Dammit. Roberto beat his head against the van’s console, cursing his luck.
Yup, he had definitely been a kitten-eating, baby-kicking, purse-stealing, axe-murdering ne’er-do-well in some past life. There was no other explanation for this.
Fucking kids.