Disclaimer: Trigun and it's characters belong to Nightow, not to me and not to you. Er, unless you ARE Nightow, then... yeah.

Author's note: My attempt to contribute to the wonderous Knives Day celebration. Due to time constraints, I only had a few hours to work on mine, so forgive any mistakes! I tried a more relaxed, hopefully amusing tale for Knives.

Excuse the title, I SUCK at naming things.

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En Prise

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To Knives, the rivalry between him and his brother was most likened to that classic game of chess. Put simply, he would make a move and Vash would counter, each trying to out maneuver the other into the inevitable checkmate.

Stalemates were outlawed.

It began, to his earliest recollection, when he, completely on accident of course, tore Vash's beloved Blankie, and Vash responded by wedging his teddy in an air duct. He never did find the damn thing.

Knives caused the Great Fall, not that the humans didn't vastly deserve it, and although it took some time, Vash raised the stakes by physically assaulting him. The bastard shot him. So it was entirely his brother's own fault things got decidedly personal afterwards.

The bar set to a new high, or low, depending on one's philosophies,he was left withlittle choice but to initiate the destruction of July, shortly after butchering the last surviving member of Rem's impure family line. But alas, the move had backfired as Vash had turned the weapon on him!

He was still was miffed over that one.

Sending the Gung-ho Guns to inflict pain and torment on his brother, ordering the death of that Priest, and sacrificing Legato to demonstrate toVash how weak his ideals truly were, all were meant to bring a quick anddecisive end to 'the game'.

After all, how could one hope to retaliate after such a rapid and rather brilliant succession of physical and mental assaults?

Only, Vash had the unmitigated gall to not only overcome them all, he also had the brazen audacity to defeat him in battle! To pour salt in the open wound, his brother had also taken him to a human settlement to be 'rehabilitated', or whatever silly notion his twit of a brother had taken into that stubborn head of his, as if his principles stemmed from some kind of mental disorder and not from carefully derived logic and solid reasoning!

So for two weeks now he'd been determinedly continuing the effort, even in his current weakened condition, by hurling insults and threats to not only end his twin's pitiable existence, but those of the two human females Vash appeared to have taken in as pets as well.

He'd kill them all, damn the consequence! As soon as he was able to move, he'd take much pleasure in choking the life from their frail, disgustingly mortal bodies.

Just the thought was almost enough to cause euphoria.

Then, one evening, Vash had sent in the large, empty-headed female that stupidly smiled all the time and addressed him politely with, he was certain, fake sincerity, and the smaller watered-down version of Rem, the one with the vile temper, a tongue that spat fire, and a mind quick enough (for a human) to meet every insult or threat with one of her own.

Not to mention the unnerving potential to follow through on said threats, as impossible as slapping someone into the next week sounded, she at least made it seem within the spectrum of possibility.

Oh, Vash would suffer for this, just as soon as he came up with the perfect method of retaliation.

But, between the perpetual cheerfulness of the tall one, which left him edgy and restless, and the sulky ministrations of the temperamental small one, which caused him considerable amounts of irritation, Knives found he was too distracted and weary to plan much of anything.

Furthermore, why must the small one insist on changing his bandages? She never tied them properly and always left him smelling like a damned rose garden when she was through.

No… wait, not roses, it was closer to jasmine. It was probably in the talc powder she used.

Not that he was concerned by such trivial matters, of course. He was above such foolishness, just as he was oblivious to how careful Rem-lite was now while changing his dressings and how ignorantly contented the other smiling one was sitting by his bedside urging him to-

Wait, what had been his initial chain of thought again?

…

Damn you, Vash. It might be check, but it was most certainly not mate.

END

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Not sure this one worked as well as I'd hoped. Still, I like the idea of Knives thinking of, and refering to, Meryl as 'Rem-lite'. And visions of Milly sitting pleasantly at his bedside wonderfully oblivious to his ravings... ah.

All these chess metaphors in Trigun fics. Where's the love for Chinese Checkers?

Happy Knives Day!

definition of - 'En Prise' - A French phrase commonly used by English-speaking chess players that means in prison. Said of an undefended piece that can be captured. A piece en prise is often the result of a 'blunder'. See also 'lost position'.