Games without Frontiers

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun. Title taken from a song by Peter Gabriel.

A/N 1: Okay, so I blame this entire thing on Peter Gabriel. And Celesma, because apparently reading her fantastic Trigun stories inspired me in turn to write crazed Trigun stories, go figure.

A/N 2: Thanks to the lovely Celesma for beta-reading :)

Everything about his posture screams defeat, utter compliance. He's slumped against the dark wall, surrounded on all sides. All escapes are blocked and he makes no move to defend himself.

His eyes, though: as hard and daring as ever – and his gaze isn't even directed at them, no.

He looks directly at you.

His smile as you stare in shock is small, but crazed and cruel. He'll win, and he knows it.

"They'll kill me, Vash. Come on, let's let them do that, right? Kill me. Or... you kill them. What's it gonna be... brother?"

Your chest is gripped by an ice-cold hand; freezing pain through your veins.

Can't breathe. Can't move. And where to? Forward?

And then?

"You want the answer, Vash? You tell me. What is the answer?"

What is the answer?

You breathe. He'll win. You don't. He'll win.

It's cruel. It's twisted, and yet you can't turn your gaze away.

His eyes swallow you whole.

And you're not alone anymore.