Chapter Text
Every step felt like an hour passing in the act of the bright sun melting upon the sandy desert of No Man’s Land. From walking with the sun and moon repeatedly, the humanoid typhoon himself has crossed into a town.
“Finally, a town!” Vash smiled excitedly while his stomach grumbled. “Some place to just grab a few donuts or anything at this point.”
Now Vash has stuck with the same iconic red that was well known to anyone that came across him. The appearance of some devil. Yellow spiked up hair that matched oddly enough the same shading tint of his unique shades. His style stuck out like a traffic light that blinks red to stop. His black boots smashing ever so slightly against the concrete textured pathway. (Though with his long red coat, you couldn’t tell what was worn underneath)
Leaning against his back was a long bag with strings connected to the top of it. He carried it as if it was full of something hefty. It slowly, a little, swayed side to side, but no noise dared rattled. Making his way through the crowd, he notices a small little tent set up with an older man standing behind boxes and boxes of pastry goodies. The closer he got, the tastier each food item looked to his bright blue eyes. Those ocean blue eyes that pierced through his yellowish orange glasses. His eyes practically sparkled like glistening clean water reflecting from a bolding sun.
“Perfect! Just what I was looking for!” He mumbled as he laid his hand near a plain donut.
“Hey! You have to pay for that, mister!” Vash’s hand was suddenly slapped while he looked up at the tempered man selling the pastries.
“Don’t worry, good citizen,” he smiled passionately. “Money is what you shall receive!”
He began to search in his deep pockets for some money. First pocket….empty. Second pocket…empty. Third pocket…a small cat with a dollar in its mouth?!
“Hey come back here!” He cried out as the cat ran off. He looked back at the man with crocodile tears. “There goes my only dollar.”
“No money. No food.” The man crossed his arms, staring at Vash as if he were some thief.
He then took a few steps away as he sighed. His stomach growled even more. Like the sound of an angered dog. Suddenly….
POW! One bullet.
His head perked up quickly to that familiar sound. Something was beginning to escalate.
POW! Another bullet.
His legs moved quickly on their own. His mind didn’t give time to think. He ignored the rumbling sound of hunger.
POW! POW! Two more bullets.
He sees someone…no wait two fellows running out of some saloon and right towards the direction he’s headed: the sound of gunfire.
He brought out his iconic gun. The gun that gives him the name “Vash the Stampede: the Human Typhoon” with a sixty billion double dollar bounty. The thing that shoots out death while leaving behind trails of smoke. Voices almost whenever the bullet flings out. The only difference with this red coated outlaw is…he refuses (mostly likely loathes) to take a life with his weapon of destruction. Despite the rumors of his name and bounty, he has never once killed a living human being. Either good or bad, he found some way around the thought of murder.
“Run! Get out of here!” He began to yell out, blending within the sounds of screaming, crying children, and of course the main cause: the gunshots.
Gears in his brain turn while he spots a little familiar outfit. The two fellows he saw ran ahead of him now still. Like a painting. Was it a…stare down duel?!
“Hey! Get out of here!” Vash warned loudly to the person in question. “It's not safe here!”
The outlaw-like person with a very oddly big fellow behind them still lifted their gun up in the air, mimicking the same position he himself was in. Vash could tell it was loaded. In fact, he noted the holsters wrapped around their legs were full of ‘em. There was this odd vibe Vash was getting from this mysterious person.
In front was presented with a group of outlaws. Not just any regular out of the mill criminals. There were four of them. Two of them had red bandanas covering the bottom part of their face; possibly to hide their identity. One fellow had a big old worn hat and a huge machine gun in their hands. A smirk was displayed unkindly on his face. The last one, which looked to be the leader of the quadruplet squad, had a much more advanced weapon. Something like a gun, but wasn’t your typical normal one outlaws would carry around.
“Look what we got here.” One of the bandana bandits spat. “Playin hero are we?”
No answer or reply came from the mysterious outlaw. A few beeps and boops came from the bigger fellow.
‘Had to be some sort of machine.’ Vash mumbled deep inside his mind.
Things were about to get interesting.