Chapter Text
Nicholas finds Roberto in a puddle of blood. He's most certainly dead, if not from the stab wound, then of the amount of blood he’s lost. By the looks of it, it’s pretty obvious who killed him. It hasn't happened long ago; the stab wound in the centre of his stomach is still bleeding heavily. Maybe ten or twenty minutes have passed since he met his end.
The sight doesn't shock Nicholas that much. He's used to seeing scenes so much more gruesome than this one inside the walls of this building. Honestly, he shouldn't even feel much seeing yet another dead human in front of him. He's killed so many himself, he has no right to get emotional here.
Still, he grieves, even if he's never really learnt how to do so properly. Or maybe he's simply forgotten what to do once someone important dies? Nicholas lowers himself in front of Roberto and grabs for the dead man's cigarettes. Sitting with the man he's become close to in the last few weeks is something he can do at least. Keeping him company as his soul ascends (or whatever) is one of the few things he can think of doing. Smoking one and thinking back to the good and bad times they went through seems like a solid way to say goodbye in a very Nicholas way.
Taking a deep inhale of smoke, he supposes he'd appreciate it if someone paid their last respects to him that way as well. Smoke one or have a glass of liquor at his passing. Seems fitting; if there's even anyone who'd want to see him off in the first place. Heh.
Vash. The only one he can think of being by his side as he perishes is someone he's only known for a short time. A being between human and plant, someone self sacrificing and pacifistic. If he's honest with himself, he's been thinking about them and them only since they parted ways earlier, never managing to think about much else for more than a moment. Where are they now? What's happening to them? Are they okay?
Have they ever even been his target rather than-- what are they to him anyway? A sacrifice weighed against the lives of children at the orphanage that’s so dear to him. A friend, who sees only the good traits in him. A fool, too trusting to survive for long in a world so cruel.
"What do I do, old man?" Nicholas finishes the stolen cigarette and taps it on the floor, grazing it against cold stone until it ceases to gleam. "I really owe it to spikey-brains to follow them, don't I?"
Stupid. They're stupid. He's stupid. All of this, stupid. Fuck.
Nicholas grabs for another cigarette, comforted by the click of his lighter. There's no way he can leave this place with the way things are right now. He'd never find peace with himself if he did. No, he'd always be haunted by guilt and endless thoughts of 'what if's. Not that he'd live long enough to explore that kind of future. Not as long as Millions Knives lives on this planet.
He's never even touched Vash in all the ways he's wanted to. Is their hair as soft as it looks? What would it feel like to kiss them? Would they allow him to? And, most of all, Nicholas wants to feel their head on his shoulder next time they sleep in the back of Meryl's car. He's imagined the comforting, warm weight of them against his side before. Has daydreamt of his hand around Vash's waist to keep them steadily against him when no one is paying attention. He craves physical contact with them so, so much.
Ugh.
"You're right. I really need to go after them." He pretends it’s Roberto who gave him that advice, just so he feels a little more confident in his decision. The old man used to always be able to say the right things at the right times after all. He’d throw each of them sensible advice left and right as if he had all the answers. If things were just a bit different, Nicholas may have considered him something like a father. Yeah, he was wise in an unusual way, the way Nicholas imagines some fatherly figures may be. He takes another of the abandoned cigarettes for later and gets up. "Thanks, old man. For everything."
There's no way he's taking the elevator Roberto rests in - that’d simply be disrespectful to a good man as he was. He grabs his trustworthy partner, the punisher, and drags it into the next elevator instead. After pressing the button to the uppermost floor, he finishes his current cigarette. Just to have a familiar weight between his lips, he places the last cigarette in his possession into his mouth. He doesn't light it; he's been smoking too fast anyway. And too much. This place makes him anxious, nervous, uncomfortable. He's never been able to help himself - each time he's here, he chain-smokes until he looks like a goddamn chimney on a night in the cold season.
Today's no different. As soon as he's on the top floor, his end destination (maybe in more ways than one), he lights his cigarette. And then he steps out into the hallway leading to Million Knives' personal rooms.
It's not a path he's often taken. Knives was someone too high up in rank for a lowly assassin, a human experiment, like him. Still, he's seen that bastard a few times. Never a good experience, this room. Even just walking towards the last door of the hallway, he feels the need to turn around and run for his life. It's comparable to a basic survival instinct of some animal, this urge to flee and save oneself from an incoming predator.
Millions Knives isn't sane, one can sense that from his aura alone. He's the most dangerous and powerful being on this planet, maybe the entire solar system. In short, he's terrifying and more than once, Nicholas has found himself shaking like a leaf just being in the same room as him. No weapon could ever hope to save him when faced with lethally fast daggers. His superhuman reflexes are way too slow; there's no chance he'd ever win a fight against Knives.
Vash is in there, though. He's not going to see Knives, no, Nicholas is going to find Vash. He keeps telling himself that, flicking some ash off his cigarette’s tip. He's not approaching torture or a stern mission briefing.
Sure, he may be walking to his almost certain demise, but thinking of Vash has always brought hope to him, if he's perfectly honest with himself. If he teams up with them, there may just be a slight chance to take down the maniac who's trying to eradicate humanity. Because Vash would never allow it; they would never hurt another living being. On the contrary, they'd die protecting anything that contains body heat, a beating heart or a will of its own. They're that stupid. They're that kind, that selfless. They're hope personified and in Nicholas' personal opinion they are everything that's still right in this world. An angel, if anything like those fuckers ever existed. A hero in one of the old comic books Nicholas used to stash under his bed in the orphanage. Vash is all those things and so much more.
He thinks he may love them. His pace quickens.
Whatever Knives needs his twin for, it can't be good. Nicholas has learnt about Knives’ goal long ago. He wasn't supposed to know, but The Beast let some part of it slip once, enjoying to meddle with both humans and plants more than anything. Why did he not force Vash to leave before entering this cursed building? Every fool could see that they're a key part in Knives' plans. Most likely unwillingly so, as well.
Then again, he shouldn’t ever have brought them here in the first place. That’s another reason he has to get them back out of there. He's decided to make this his next mission. Escort Vash the Stampede out of July, alive and unharmed-
The building shakes and Nicholas stops on instinct, checking every direction for a cause. What's going on? A bad feeling spreads through his body. Something akin to a sixth sense, a feeling deep in his bones, makes him shudder. Anxiety and a sort of precognition warn him that something terrible is about to happen. He's seen animals predict natural disasters on television and he feels he understands how they do it now. The fear, the terror... even his blood seems to run cold.
When he looks around once more, a mass of giant roots appear in the entrance to Knives' room. They grow and grow, slowly claiming the entire hallway, even breaking windows to spread as much as possible.
What the fuck?
No. No matter that. He lifts his weapon and shoots at them. Tears at them with his bare hands. He needs to enter this room for hell's sake. Even just a hole big enough to slip through the wall of nasty shoots would be enough. There's no way Vash is still okay with all that’s going on, so he has to hurry and save them. Whatever it takes, he’ll do it for them. They’d do the same for him, he already knows them that well.
It takes far too long, maybe even five minutes, to tear the goddamn roots apart far enough to create space for him to fit through. All the while, they keep growing and moving, slithering along the ground like particularly threatening snakes. He has to leave his weapon behind since it’s too big to fit through the opening. Whatever. He’s well versed in physical combat too, his seniors have seen to that. Even if it lowers his chances of holding his own against Knives, he has no time to waste. He will have to go back for his loyal partner later, Vash is more important as of now.
Finally inside of Knives’ room, Nicholas doesn’t hesitate to approach the source of the roots - a big hole in the ground. It’s not of natural source; its edges are too even, it’s shape is too perfectly round, as if geometrical. Even this hole is Knives’ creation, no doubt. Now without a weapon, he has to use his hands and teeth to claw at the roots to form a way into the hole. Not hesitating a single moment, he chomps down and tears at the shoots with his mouth, grabbing and ripping at others with both his hands. He probably looks like a mad animal. He doesn't care, he'd do whatever it takes.
Vash should be down there since no one’s in this room. What even is below this place? Nicholas can’t think of any rooms on the next level down, no matter how hard he tries to get an image of the building into his head. Whatever it is, though, he’s going there.
The person he wants to protect the most right now is down there, so that’s right where he’s going too.
His gums are bleeding and his mouth hurts, most of his nails are cracked, but he continues to work at the roots. These fucking things keep growing, though, somehow increasing in speed and mass. If only he carried around a knife, he’d make short work of all this bullshit. Fucking damn it. The blood in his mouth tastes terrible, but at least he sees results once a tendril catches underneath his index finger’s nail and he pulls at it. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he squeezes himself into the hole he managed to create before it closes up again. Legs first, he works himself down into whatever awaits him below.
On the bottom of the hole, there’s a water-like liquid. A whole, massive tank of it. He closes his mouth and tries to get his bearings. This kind of weird liquid he’s in… it feels like he’s floating in a glass of the soup served all across July Town. Gross. He sinks slowly while taking in everything around him. It’s a little murky, but he can see Millions Knives and Vash, entangled in a grotesque embrace. They’re connected by various chains leaving his back and penetrating theirs. The roots grow out of Vash’s back too, sprouting in all directions. Some have even penetrated the tank’s glass. Shit; why are they so still, why aren’t they fighting this at all? Are they… are they even still capable of that?
“Punisher.” Millions Knives acknowledges Nicholas curtly. He, on the other hand, seems perfectly fine, so their unresponsiveness has to be his doing. “Didn’t expect you of all people to show up. This is your fault, you know? And you can’t even stop it any more! Vash is long gone!”
He laughs. Okay, yeah, Nicholas knows he’s the one who led Vash here. But being told he can’t do anything about this anymore? No one but him will be the judge of that. It’s good that Knives looks a little distracted by whatever he’s doing to his sibling, otherwise Nicholas would be dead five times over by now.
Since both of the twins are alright down in this liquid, it has to be the kind of water that’s used to keep plants alive. As a human, it still would make him drown, so he has to act before his oxygen runs out. He’s arrived at the bottom of the tank, so he crouches and tries to propel himself up as far as he can. He just needs to shake Vash, wake them up. If this doesn’t work, he can’t think of a plan B. He’d be doomed It’s likely his only attempt to save them, too. Once he’s beside them, he’ll be far too close to Knives; if he isn’t successful, he may simply be stabbed in the back. Certain death, therefore.
Oddly, he isn’t afraid or anything. He’s got faith in Vash; they’ll regain their bearings once he reaches them. They’re not so weak that they’d let themself get controlled by their brother just like that.
It’s slow, but he manages to float upwards, right into Vash’s direction. Someone knocks at the tank’s outside; it’s the reporter girl, punching the glass with both fists raised. She’s yelling something too, but he can’t make out any words. That doctor is watching from a few feet away too… should have been obvious that he’s involved too. Asshole.
Nicholas flips him off for good measure. Just for a moment, though, because he then reaches Vash and they’re simply much more important. Their eyes are open, but entirely unseeing.
Fuck.
With both hands, he grabs their shoulders and shakes them, gently but hard enough to wake them up. They don’t want this, whatever it is that’s happening to them. Whatever their brother is doing to them, he’s sure they didn’t agree to this. No way. Not in a billion years.
His lungs begin to burn. Vash’s eyes slowly move to meet his, yet they still show no sign of really seeing him or anything else around them. Their face is void of emotion as they open their mouth to speak.
“Filthy… human…”
Just like Knives, Vash can move incredibly fast. Before Nicholas can even fully register what they said, they have one of the razor-sharp chains pulled out of their back. Their hand is raised and he can’t dodge before it’s plunged into his chest, then his stomach, then his hip and so on. The tank turns pink with his blood and he gasps in pain, mouth quickly filling with metallic-tasting liquid.
Why? He grits his teeth, despair clawing at his quickly fading consciousness. Vash would never do anything like- this is… they aren’t themself and that’s all he can think about.
“What- no. No, no, no!” Vash jerks out of their hypnosis, eyes growing wide. They can see him again, this time it’s definitely their real self. The one he has become so attached to. It’s too late, though. He won’t be able to take his drug quickly enough. He’s done for, and yet he feels at peace. Vash is back, that’s what he decides he came here for in the end. They grab him, hug him tight against themself. Are they shaking? He can’t tell, his eyes have closed. This is his time. “Wolfwood, no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t… Please don’t die. No, no, no. Please, no.”
They wail, full of sorrow by their previous actions. It’s not their fault and he doesn’t blame them one bit. What Knives said was partly true after all. He did bring them here, so he somewhat deserves this fate. He, to some extent, took part in creating this situation.
He wants to tell them that it’s okay, but he doesn't think he'd be able to speak underwater. Instead, he lifts his arms to rest around them, squeezing them with his last strength. He’s okay. Passing away like this isn’t too bad. If Millions Knives would just stop laughing so loudly in the background, everything would be perfectly peaceful… he would be able to enjoy the embrace he finds himself in. Isn't this what he wanted - to feel their touch?
It’s so warm. So unlike the cold floor underneath his butt.
Wait, what?