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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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The Top Ten Rejected Gun Ho Guns
By D.B Sommer

 

And in the midst of all the C+C, a fanfic. Not sure how much response a
Trigun fic will get, especially a short humor one, but after seeing the
series, figured I'll give it a try.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Writer's intro:
Dominique, the Cyclops. Gray, the Nine Lives. Chapel. Cain, the Long Shot,
E.G. Mine, and a host of other next door neighbor types more commonly
referred to as The Gung Ho Guns. A funloving bunch of guys and one gal that
knew how to kick back, relax, and kill anything that moves in a variety of
colorful ways. But little did people know that these were not the first
batch of folks to be go by such a cool name. (Well, Knives thought it was
cool, and we know what happens to people that criticize him.) Now, Mindless
Tripe Productions is proud to present, unearthed from a secret vault buried
under a really dry and sunny desert in the middle of nowhere, because it
really sucked and no one wanted to fess up that they did it...

The Top Ten Rejected Gung Ho Guns

Trigun is owned by Pioneer.

Any and all C+C is appreciated. You can contact me at
sommer@3rdm.net .

Angcobra is now storing all of my fics, including Roses and Swords, at


And at Larry F's at:


And another site with some of my fics from the last couple of years is at
R+C books at:


Yep, some minor spoilers here from around episode 17 or so. The Vash
Flashback episode.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Knives pulled himself out of the clear fluid-filled chamber that had been
home to him for several decades now. It was all because Vash, the insipid
fool, went over the line when all Knives had tried to do was help. But Vash
would pay, and it would be in a lot more than the pitiful 60,000,000,000
double dollars those wretched humans were offering. Knives' chief flunky,
Legato Bluesummers, was on the case and had promised him that he would band
together a group of pawns to use against Vash. This was, presumably, why
Legato had awakened him.

As the fluid cleared from his eyes, Knives saw a group of ten strangers,
with Legato at the head of them, patiently waiting his recovery. It took
Knives but a minute to throw on an outfit and then wait for Legato to
explain.

Legato gestured to the group assembled behind him. "As you requested, Sir,
I've gathered together a group of dangerous outlaws to do your bidding in
your war against Vash the Stampede. Allow me to introduce-"

"Wait a minute. What's that thing on your shoulder?" Knives pointed to the
set of iron spikes protruding from the right shoulder of Legato's outfit.
"It looks like you've sprouted a weather vane."

"I had an accident with a wrought iron fence right before we came here. It
was silly, really. Slipped on a banana peel and fell into it. I killed every
banana vendor in town, of course."

"I see. Rather stylish, in a Neo-retro sort of way. Keep it."

"Very good, sir. Now, allow me to introduce to you the Gung Ho Guns. First,
we have, Makki, the Florist." Legato indicated a rather effeminate man,
dressed stylishly, and adjusting a bouquet in his hand.

Knives' eyebrows formed a 'V'. "Did you say, 'Florist'?"

"Yes."

"I suppose he can control plant growth or something."

"No, Sir."

"Sprout thorns and skewer people with them?"

"That would be news to me, Sir."

"What exactly is it he does, then?"

"He can brighten any room with a minimum of flowers. Note how he has made
this otherwise dank rest chamber so much lighter with merely three
arrangements."

"It does look much brighter and cheerier. By the way, did you pick him up in
San Francisco?"

"Why, yes. How did you know?"

"He just blew me a kiss."

"He's a caring individual. I can attest to that firsthand. But don't think
for one instant he's the committing kind."

"Riiight. I think I've learned far more than I wanted to about him. Moving
on."

Legato pointed to a second person. He had oily black hair, a dreadful dull
red polyester leisure suit, a white shirt with the first five buttons
undone, showing a hairy chest that was as oily as the hair on top of his
head, a number of gold necklaces, and a Mr. Microphone in hand. He tried
giving a dazzling smile, which died halfway into the effort, not that he
appeared aware of it. "This is Luigi, the Lounge Lizard."

"Now this sounds promising. Can he do something cool, like create waves of
pure force that are capable of rending flesh and metal merely by singing?"

"No, Sir."

"A pity. I rather liked that idea. So, what does he do?"

"He sings so badly that the enemy is forced to cover their ears rather than
go for their weapons, thereby making them vulnerable."

"Not too bad. How do you keep our people from having to do the same?"

"..."

"You hadn't thought that far, did you?"

"I'm afraid not, Sir."

"Riiight. Moving on."

Legato indicated a third man. He was dressed as a cowboy, with a pair of
pistols in the gun belt he wore on his hips. His arms were currently crossed
in front of his chest. "This is Toushu, the Quick Draw. He can outdraw any
man alive. His speed is superior to anyone, even Vash the Stampede."

"Now this I have to see."

"You just did." Toushu informed him.

Knives blinked. "I beg your pardon."

"There, I did it again."

"Did what?"

"Drew on you."

"No you didn't. You were just standing there. You arms were crossed and out
in the open the entire time."

"Nope. I drew both times. And I just did it a third time while we were
talking."

"Impossible! No one is that fast." Knives grabbed a glass sitting on a
nearby table and held it high and away from his body. "Prove it. Shoot this
glass out of my hand."

"You want me to shoot that there glass?"

"Yes, unless you were lying about drawing."

"No, I drew. Okay." Toushu spit into his hands, tensed up, then crossed his
arms again.

A gunshot rang out, despite the fact the man appeared standing still.
Knives, for the first time in his existence, was impressed with a 'mere'
human. "That was unbelievable. You're at least ten times faster than Vash.
You'll be able to kill him easily." Knives place the glass back on the
table. "Now we can... wait a minute!" He looked at the intact glass again.
"I told you to shoot this. You missed."

"My gun sights are off is all. Hold it up again."

Knives did so. Again the man appeared to be standing perfectly still when a
shot rang out.

Somewhere in the distance, a cat screeched in agony.

Knives' eyebrows furrowed again.

Toushu said, "I sneezed."

"No you didn't."

"I did it too fast for you to hear. I'll hit it for sure this time."

A third shot rang out. Luigi went down, holding his foot in obvious agony.
The shot was made all the more remarkable by the fact he was standing ten
feet behind Toushu at the time.

"Windage," Toushu calmly explained.

"We're indoors, you moron! You couldn't hit the broadside of a barn!"

"Not true. I've hit the side of a barn before."

"Were you aiming at it at the time?"

"Well, you see, the sun got in my eyes-"

"Enough!" Knives turned his attention to Legato again. "Show me the next
one."

Legato pointed to a tall, but average-looking man with unruly brown hair and
a wild look to his eyes. He wore a set of colorful furs. "This is Bestiality
Bob. He-"

"I don't want to know. Next."

Legato pointed to the handsome man standing next Bob. He was dressed in a
rather tight set of leather pants and a plain white shirt that did little to
hide his finely chiseled chest. "This is Sasi, the Foot Long Spike."

"Foot Long Spike? Is that because he has a-"

"You don't want to know that either, Sir."

"Ah, probably not. Moving right along."

Legato indicated a beautiful woman whose impressive chest was barely
restrained by the tight black leather outfit she wore, and ensemble which
hugged her in all the right places. A set of razor sharp swords were held in
scabbards crossed behind her back. A pair of wicked-looking guns were also
strapped to her waist. She gave Knives a dangerous, yet sultry glance. "This
is Katrina, the Razorfist."

"If she's even half as good as she looks, or even half as good as her name
sounds, she's going to be something we can work with."

"I doubt that, Sir. She's just the token female."

"Token female? But, the swords and guns?"

"Just for show. She doesn't have the faintest idea how to use either."

"And the, ah, impresive leather outfit?"

"Do you honestly believe anyone could fight in an outfit that tight? It's
purely eye candy."

Knives gave her one last mournful look, then moved on. "Who's next?"

Legato pointed next to him. "Yurimaru, the Constipated."

"There's no one where you're pointing."

"Yurimaru had to go to the restroom while we were introducing the others. He
does that frequently with the problem he has."

"Riiight. Moving on once again."

Legato indicated a body lying next to Makki. "That's Devem, the Corpse."

"And he has the the ability to..."

"Decompose, Sir."

"He's doing it now, isn't he?

"Even as we speak. That's another good reason to have a florist in the
group. Helps to drown out the smell."

"This is all because I didn't give you a raise during your last evaluation,
isn't it?"

"I have no idea of what you mean, Sir."

"Money's been tight, you know. It's not like I have a source of income. I am
a psychopath that's never even had a job. And with me being bottled up for
so long, well, I don't have two double dollars to rub together. You do
understand, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Sir. Your personality is more than enough to sustain me.
Shall we continue?"

"Why not? Not that it will do any good."

Legato moved next to a man that was dressed in cowboy regalia, just like
Toushu. "This is Chuck."

"Chuck, the Wagon?"

"No, sir."

"Ground Up Chuck?"

"No."

"Just Chuck?"

"Just Chuck."

"Rather boring, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

"And what does he do?"

"Haven't the faintest idea. He introduced himself as Chuck and just started
following us one day."

"I hate you."

"Only one left, sir. Then it will all be over."

This was exactly why all the humans needed to die. "Just get on with it."

Legato indicated a fairly average-looking man in his fifties with a slightly
bulbous nose. He was a bit overweight, had a low cut of whitish hair, and
wore a nice business suit. There seemed to be a perpetual smile on his face.

Legato said, "This is Slick Willy."

The man stepped forward to shake Knives' hand. "How're you doing? Found
myself unemployed recently and I'm trying to make ends meet. Don't suppose
you've got any spare interns lying around."

"RIGHT! That's it! All of you except Legato, get close together."

"What about Devem, the Corpse?" someone asked.

"Just drag him along."

Knives watched them get together in a small group. "Someone's missing."

"I'm coming," an overweight middle-aged balding man shouted as he ran from
the direction of the restroom, adjusting his pants along the way.

Once Yurimaru had joined the others, Knives said, "Perfect."

"Now what?" Toushu asked.

"Now this!" Knives pulled out a long barreled pistol and fired. From in the
middle of a group a pitch black hole formed in mid-air. It was pure
obsidian, and did not reflect light in the slightest. It expanded to a huge
size before the others could react, sucking them in as the surface of the
orb touched their skin. Their screams and struggles (except for Devem, who
accepted his fate with grim aplomb) were to no avail as they were inevitably
consumed by oblivion.

The last thing Knives heard was Makki shouting, "When I wished I could
disappear in a black hole, I didn't mean it this wayyyyy." His voice trailed
off into nothingness.

Once all trace of the 'Gung Ho Guns: Version 1.0' was eradicated, Knives
breathed a sigh of relief.

Legato was left pouting. "It took me nearly a whole week to dig those guys
up. And in Devem's case, I mean that literally."

"I want cool Gung Ho Guns!" Knives wailed. "Not morons like that. I want...
I want stylish guys. Like, maybe someone that wears a visor and shoots red
beams of energy from his eyes. And a short guy that can make claws grow out
of his hands and heal real fast. Maybe an attractive woman of color that can
control the weather too."

"Copyright problems there, Sir."

"Damn!"

"Well, Sir, there is good news. You said you thought being able to
manipulate sound waves as destructive energy was impressive. I heard that
there is someone that can do that."

"He sings?"

"Plays an instrument."

"Trumpet?"

"Saxophone, I think."

"Well, okay. As long as it isn't a tuba. I don't like tubas. No member of my
Gung Ho Guns is allowed to use a tuba."

"Got it, Sir. And I believe I heard of a cross bearing man who has guns
concealed in the his giant crucifix."

"Sounds like a religious fanatic. I don't like those. They preach all that
fire and brimstone crap. And then they find out I want to exterminate the
human race and get all bitchy and say I'm going to hell, and then I always
end up killing them because they make so much noise. It's just a major
pain."

"I think it's more a style thing than any actual fanaticism. Remember, he is
a killer."

Knives considered that for a long moment. "I guess so. All right. We'll
build upon that as a core and work outward from there." Knives yawned. "Now,
I'm tired, and going back to sleep. Wake me up when you have them
assembled."

"Very good, Sir."

"And Legato."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Consider that raise yours."

"Very good, Sir. I'm sure you'll be much more satisfied with the next group
I bring you. Nighty-night."

"Nighty-night," Knives said as he yawned again and went back into his
chamber, Dreams of murdering sax players and cross bearing gunmen dancing
through his mind.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

No prereaders this time out. No need in inflicting that sort of harm upon
everyone.

Thanks for reading and allowing me this trip into tasteless humor.

D.B. Sommer









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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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