First she slipped on her underwear. Clean panties and an actual bra. Not dirty chest bindings, but a real bra! While a smile on her face, she adjusted her ‘girls’ and marveled at not bouncing around wild while still being able to breath naturally.
“I could get used to this,” she thought out loud.
Next, she grabbed a pair of socked and slipped them on. In the wasteland socks were your best friend. They kept sand and rocks from messing up your feet, but these socks had not a hole in them, they were clean, and didn’t smell funny!
Rogue smiled. To most people she’s probably seem idiotic, making a fuss over the most simple of things, but to her these things were important. It had been so long since she could enjoy these simple pleasures .
Next she picked up a pair of black jeans and her belt. Denim, what a fabric. These would last a long time, and be more comfortable then what she was used to. She didn’t have to worry about these disintegrating on her, and the fact that they looked cool was a bonus.
Slipping the genes and belt on, she grabbed her boots. Nice stout combat boots. One thing they say in the wasteland was that you could tell a lot about a person by her boots, and these were some damn nice boots!
Next, she put on her shirts. First was a black tank top that would protect her ‘feminine modesty’ while still letting her stay cool. The other was a long sleeved, almost totally transparent green shirt. It was made out of an especially durable fabric that didn’t hold in heat. Great for treks in the wasteland where you had to keep your body protected from flying sand and fragments while trying to stay cool. It didn’t hurt at all that together they’d look good as a outfit.
With a sigh, she put on her gloves. Her power tended to be hard to control at best, and she really didn’t want to hurt anyone. Still, necessary evil or not, they were nice gloves...
Next Rogue pulled on her jacket. Leather jackets were the basic ‘armor’ of the wastes. Almost everyone who fought had one or something just about as tough. They were good for protecting against everything from wind blown fragments to knives. Of course that wasn’t why she’d wanted it... it just looked damn cool. She ideally wondered what that X patch on the shoulder was for but shrugged it off and turned to the last items on her bed: the gun and gun belt
With a feeling of awe she lifted the fine, glistening revolver off of the bed. It was heavy in her hand, but not too heavy. It was as if the weight was just a reminder of power she now held. It was comfortable in her hands, smooth, graceful... it felt like part of her just by picking it up. Vash really knew how to choose them. She’d owned guns before, shot guns before, but she’d never had a weapon with so much precision, so much POWER before.
Slowly she placed the gun back on the bed and tried on her gun-belt. IT was snug, comfortable. She could get used to this... a gun-belt was the mark of a warrior. Even if you didn’t have a gun in it at the moment, a gun-belt still project a kind of confidence and power.
With a triumphant smile she lifted her gun and placed it in the belt.
Gone was Rogue, the dirty, rag clad drifter. Here was the new her, Rogue the Desert Ranger, apprentice to the most infamous gunman ever to live: Vash the Stampede… and DAMN did she look good.
Walking with a sense of self confidence that she had not felt for years, she opened the door to the over her room and went to confront her teacher.
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(Posted Thu, 05 Jun 2003 19:56)
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