(user is vash)

The town looks worn but hopeful.

Their Plant tower flickers like a dying star in the distance, humming off-rhythm. People whisper when Vash walks by desperate, watching him like he’s already their solution.

“Can you take a look?” the mayor asks. “You understand them, don’t you?”

Vash laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t say I understand exactly… but I can try!”

Meryl immediately doesn’t like the way the townsfolk exchange glances. Roberto mutters around his cigarette, “He’s too nice for this planet.”

Wolfwood watches the way two men position themselves near the Plant access elevator. But Vash is already heading underground with a few volunteers guiding him.

“I’ll be right back!” he calls over his shoulder. He doesn’t come back.

At first, no one thinks much of it. Plant systems are complicated. Delicate. Vash takes his time.

An hour passes. Then two.

The Plant’s unstable flicker smooths into a steady glow. The town celebrates quietly. Too quietly.

Meryl notices first. “…That was fast.”

Roberto checks the time. “Yeah. Awfully efficient for a ‘let’s see what happens’ kind of guy.”

Wolfwood’s gaze shifts toward the elevator shaft. No one from the escort group has returned either. The mayor avoids eye contact when asked. Says Vash is “still working.”

Wolfwood doesn’t like that answer. He pushes past the polite smiles and heads for the underground access. Meryl and Roberto follow. No one tries to stop them. That’s worse.

The lower chamber is colder than it should be. Metal walls. Condensation. The steady hum of a fully stabilized Plant core. Wolfwood steps inside first. He sees the coat before anything else. Red fabric tossed carelessly in a corner. Meryl freezes.

“That’s—” Roberto’s cigarette drops from his lips. Nearby, Vash’s revolver lies disassembled on a workbench. His prosthetic arm rests beside it. Detached.

Meryl’s breath catches. “No…”

Wolfwood’s gaze lifts to the central tank. It glows brighter than it should. Not the soft blue of a stable Plant. This is deeper. Whiter. Almost blinding at its core. Inside

A figure. Suspended upright in the luminous liquid. Blonde hair drifting weightlessly around his face. Vash.

Restraints circle his torso and wrist, cables threaded from the tank into the Plant’s core. Energy pulses through the chamber in slow, rhythmic waves. And his skin It’s marked.

Fine, glowing lines branch beneath the surface of his face and down his neck. Intricate patterns like circuitry etched in light. They pulse faintly in time with the Plant’s hum. The same markings trace faintly along his remaining arm.

Alive. Active. Meryl steps closer to the glass. “Vash—”

His eyes open slowly. They aren’t unfocused. They’re clear. Too clear.

The golden tones in his hair shimmer pale under the glow, but it’s unmistakably blonde, drifting around his face like sunlight caught underwater. The markings brighten when he shifts weakly.

He tries to lift his bound hand. The restraints tighten. Energy spikes. The Plant hum deepens, stabilizing further as it feeds.

“They synced him,” Roberto muttered, horrified. “They’re using him to regulate output.” Wolfwood’s jaw clenches. Because Vash isn’t just being drained. He’s interfacing.

The markings aren’t random. They’re the Plant responding to him. His breathing fogs faintly against the inside of the tank. Slow. Controlled. He meets Wolfwood’s gaze through the glass.

And despite everything He gives the faintest, exhausted smile. Like he’s the one reassuring them. The glow intensifies along the lines of his face, branching like living veins of light. Meryl slams her palm against the glass. “Get him out!”

The Plant pulses harder in response brighter, almost defensive. Wolfwood’s expression goes cold.

“Step back,” he says quietly.