Chapter Text
Vash the Stampede was really close to meeting the Saints and the Creator this time.
Being shot at and getting out of it mostly unscratched wasn’t a rare occurrence for him. He could dodge the bullets easily, dancing around them and mocking death itself for performing such an impossible show.
What wasn’t as common was being surrounded at an annoyingly cramped alleway from all possible angles. There were roughly about fifteen people with a damn machine gun each.
They were gangsters, that much was easy to see just from their general appearance and embroidered jackets with the name The Wolf Bounty Seeker Gang on their sleeves. Not a very creative or correct name Vash thought, sounding rather edgy and bizarre like a scramble of words that didn’t connect with one another. However the fact that all of them carried such expensive guns and managed to corner him so fast was a lead about their income and success as bounty hunters. It would be a mistake to underestimate them.
While yes he had been confronted by several gangs in the past, it was rare for him to be stuck in a situation where he had no openings. There was no possible scenario in which he would be able to get out from there without receiving some sort of damage. He went through a mental list of ways he could escape, all of his options ended with him being hit at, in a fist fight or with bullets. He would take the punches over the bullets any day of the year and he hoped he would get those this time. Bullet wounds were annoying and slow to heal, especially the kind of heavy caliber that the gang possessed.
“Hey what the hell are you thinking little rabbit?! We’re asking you a question!” while he was lost in his thoughts, who he assumed was the leader of the gang was apparently talking to him. Little rabbit..? Vash found himself confused for a moment, then remembered the name of the guys realizing it was probably a little gig they had going on as a group. A little weird, but not the worst he had come across. Interesting nicknames were a staple for the Humanoid Typhoon.
“Haha, sorry um could you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch it” Vash answered with an uneasy chuckle, hands up in the air since a good while ago as a sign of surrender.
The leader grumbled in annoyance and repeated himself “I asked, how do you wish to be turned in? Alive? Or dead? ” Each word was punctuated with an increasingly dark grin, ending with a malicious laugh that his peers joined in shortly after. These people were really making this a show for themselves.
Vash gulped worriedly, seeing as the punches were slowly being pulled off from the table of options, bullets most likely being the outcome he was about to face.
Taking his small opening while they were all laughing, he quite literally took a run for it, not thinking it twice when he pushed through the seven people that were in front of him with their weapons pointed in his direction. They were all startled briefly before they all chased after him again through the small alleyways.
He heard shouts behind him and soon after shots were heard from different directions, getting frighteningly closer as he kept running. He would give it to them, they were irritatingly fast and scaringly accurate with their shots.
He mapped out in his head the corners and turns he went through when they were stalking him earlier, trying his best to remember the best escape route. As if a lightbulb had lit up in his head, he recalled a specific alley that led directly to the open desert. He would be like a free target, but it would give him enough room to dodge the bullets as best he could without any casualties if he managed to outrun them fast enough. The next town over was just around forty minutes by car, perhaps two hours or so by foot, about an hour and a half if he kept going at that pace. He would be able to manage. Somehow.
After a little bit of sneaking around and hiding from people of the gang every now and then, he saw the most beautiful alleyway he had ever seen in his life with freedom painted all over it.
He ran towards the end of it, the exit was at his reach and he positively left all of the hunters behind him. Oh how he yearned for the scorching heat of the suns to wash over him shamelessly in its vast nothingness until his next destination. He was so so close, running faster, gaining speed by the second.
Finally, he had outrun them. He had reached the exit, and now it was the soft sand he was running at and not solid concrete. He did it.
He had managed to escape one of his worst chases as of the last few months, in one piece! Not a single punch was landed and not a single gunshot was received!
One, two, three, ten… Seventeen .
He felt how a total of seventeen bristling bullets had landed on him.
Seven had hit his coat, four his left arm, and six his back. Oh hell.
Apparently one of them found him just on time while he was still visible on the open desert, not having reached yet the closest stone formation. The number of shots indicated to him that the weapon that was used against him wasn’t a machine gun, but a semi-automatic handgun. He had probably run out of bullets earlier when they were shooting just for the hell of it. Vash had never been more grateful for people’s stupidity when it came to keeping track of their available resources in such critical moments. Maybe he was stepping on his own tail with that thought but it didn’t discourage him a bit since that had saved him from looking like a cheese grater.
Unfortunately, the bullets did not go through, fortunately they did not perforate anything vital on account of them being stuck. Unfortunately he still had to run, fortunately he was under an adrenaline rush that would help him through it. Unfortunately he would have to deal with all of it immediately after he stopped running unless he wanted a bad infection to fester- God he was not thinking straight, he just really wanted some peace for a tiny moment. Was that too much to ask for.
-
The suns were setting when he arrived at the outskirts of the next town, it was in December if he remembered correctly. He could see the town's market just a few more meters away from him, maybe fifteen, fifteen kilometric meters. He felt worn out, weak and shaky from the blood loss and general exhaustion. He was not going to make it to the damn market he knew, yet kept walking towards it with just a bit of hope, hope that someone would not recognize him and he would be able to buy more gauzes for his wounds with the little energy he had left on him.
His legs betrayed him, shattering all of his hopes and dreams of reaching the town with his own two legs. Crawling would be then. He dragged himself weakly, clawing at the sand, feeling how it slipped between his fingers, slow and painful while stretching his barely closing injuries with the effort that came from it, wincing at how they reopened and bled again.
His vision was getting blurry and his ears were ringing, all of his limbs painfully heavy, and soon he did not feel them at all. Overcome with the numbness, he stopped moving all together at a scarce distance from reaching his goal. His breaths were turning heavier, impossible to swallow and painful on his ribs. He was going to pass out at any given moment, and he was afraid to be found like this. So vulnerable and at the mercy of anyone who may want his head. He had pushed himself too far this time.
As his eyelids were closing, he saw a small figure running towards him, yelling alarmed, maybe calling out for someone. The faint shape he could make out was one of a child, and a few others soon joined in, invading all of his field of vision.
Quickly, a bigger silhouette approached flailing their arms and shouting, probably asking for them to stay away. He felt a light shuffle of his jacket, the person most likely moving the fabric in search of the source of the problem, or to steal from him. He could not stay awake any longer, the only thing he could do was wish for whoever this person was, to be someone kind and ignorant enough to not finish him and spill blood for his bounty.
He barely heard anything, but could make out the last few words before he fainted “We need to help him!” This person really was going to help. Relieved, he smiled and all he could see next was pitch black.
–
There were a few curious whispers around him.
“Will he die?” a small voice said preoccupied, “Is he going to become a zombie if he wakes up?” another one questioned less conflicted and more excited, “His arm is weird” one bluntly said, “Don’t say mean things! He is just, different, I think?” answered someone sounding unsure of their own answer.
He slowly opened his eyes and grunted from how heavy his body felt. The sound seemed to alarm the curious little voices, all of them gasping in surprise. He saw what appeared to be a wood ceiling, its joists casting shadows that were telling of early hours of the morning. His head felt dizzy but nothing unbearable, thoughts cloudy from the confusion, not recognizing where he was.
“The mister is awake!” one of the voices announced. Now that he was a little more conscious he could understand that the voices sounded small and high pitched because they came from children.
Turning his head slightly to the left, his eyes met the round and bright ones of a little girl, tall enough to barely see above the edge of the bed, her little hands clasped around her mouth in surprise. Behind her was another girl, about two heads taller than the small one, grabbing her from the shoulders and pulling her back away from the bed, her expression one of weariness and concern. Two boys who appeared to share the same face but were otherwise strikingly different, were latched onto the bigger girl’s sides, grabbing her shirt with one hand each. One of them seemed scared of him while the other had sparkles in his eyes.
“Are you a zombie sir?” the excited boy asked with wonder and a wide grin showing a pair of missing teeth.
“Of course not those things don’t exist!” the tall girl answered him a little annoyed, never taking her eyes away from Vash.
“Alright kids out of the infirmary! I clearly told you to not come in while the man was in here and no one else was around!” A firm voice entered the room accompanied with a few claps calling for the kids attention. The children quickly scrambled towards the door, dropping a few short and clearly not meant apologies, the sound of their steps as they ran echoing in the small room and then through the hallway.
Vash moved his eyes towards the source of the voice and saw a woman. Short and around her fifties, with wavy brown hair that reached just a little below her shoulders, a pink kerchief at the crown of her head. She was wearing an apron that seemed to be the color of a white cloth that had been worn out with time, now being yellowish in its tone. He could not quite point out what it was, but something about her felt motherly.
The woman sighed and approached him. Once beside him she touched his forehead with her forearm carefully, Vash flinching at the sudden contact. She retreated her arm with a smile and looked at him, an expression of relief washing over her face.
“Your fever has gone down now, thank God. When we found you, you were scalding hot. We thought you may have suffered from a heatstroke, but well…” she trailed her eyes down at his torso and her lips pressed down into a thin line.
Looking down at himself he could see a sheet that covered his legs, he was wearing a shirt that was not his own, a white button up with long sleeves, closed all the way up to his neck, the left sleeve cut up to where his prosthetic and flesh met. None of his injuries were on sight thanks to the shirt, but he could feel the bandages under it, tight and secure around him. Surely someone must have taken care of them and took his clothes off, the woman knew what those wounds were and most definitely knows about the patchwork of scars that were hidden beneath the fabric judging from her uneasiness, had she been the one to cure him or not.
He could understand, he knew that finding someone with bullet wounds would raise suspicion in anyone no matter if it was a common occurrence or not around the planet. Adding his scars and missing arm to the mix was of no help, only more distrust would always follow.
Vash chuckled softly, trying not to force his chest or stomach too much “Ah yes, I um am not sure on how to begin with this one uh I don’t think any explanation would ease you miss now would it” he smiled with hesitancy, knowing that being around him was probably putting her on edge.
To his surprise, the woman gave him a warm but sad smile of her own, her eyes shining with understanding and perhaps even a little pity “Of course not, anyone that ends in that state is up to no good I believe, there is too many of them” she did not have to say the word to understand that she was referring to his wide galore of scars he sported..
“But you know, you look like a kind man, even if it sounds a little odd. That is why I brought you here, because you needed help and I trusted my gut” the woman added with a gentle voice.
Vash really loved humans like her, with a kind yet calloused heart, shaped with the passage of time. Clearly she saw something in him that he would not be able to in her position. He could not be more grateful that this was the person who saved him.
“Thank you” he said quietly, afraid that he would break down crying from how moved he was if he were to speak any louder.
“That however, does not mean that I trust you young man. We did not have the money to take you to a doctor in town” the woman explained with a stern voice, akin to the one she used with the children just a few moments ago. “I could not just leave you at your mercy either, so that is why I brought you here. We ain’t some fancy hospital but we have someone that was able to help. You are lucky you survived or so she said.” the woman mentioned without elaborating much after.
“That’s fine, it would be concerning if you did after all of that, so it’s okay I understand. Yeah I was very lucky” her suspicion was well grounded, no matter how kind she was being. All he could offer was an amicable smile in return.
She grinned at him, wide and youthful “Sadly, we don’t do things for free here, ya will have to pay us back somehow!” she laughed briefly with no ill intention.
Vash laughed along with her, feeling a small jab on his torso as he did and stopped immediately with a little noise of pain that had the woman over him again, worried. “I’m fine it’s fine don't worry, just the wounds not being in the mood for a laugh” he sighed with another chuckle.
“Yes of course. We will wait until you heal a little more until you are in a better condition so you can repay your debt little boy…”. She looked at him with some doubt, her expression turning from concern to increasing curiosity. “I need to know your name if you are going to stay here for longer, I can’t keep calling you young man or boy or whatever else” she smiled in her seemingly staple kind way towards him. It was nice and genuine, truly someone that was fundamentally caring and loving.
He returned it as he answered her “Vash. My name is Vash”.
She hummed with interest, nodding at his response “Vash, what a unique name, never heard of it before. It sounds quite pretty!”.
Vash felt bashful at the compliment and couldn’t help the little flustered grin that was making his face feel warm and ticklish. There was some sort of comfort in the notion that the woman was clueless about the name. He would be safe for a while.
Curious, he returned the question “And may I have the name of my savior? If possible?”.
She laughed at the title, his dramatic little tone being the cherry on top for her “Oh shut it with the flattery Vash” she waved his hand at him with dismissal in a playfully adorable way.
“Melanie, but you will have to call me Miss Melanie. This is the Hopeland Orphanage and I am its main caretaker so you better show me the respect I deserve young man” she answered while crossing her arms on her chest, giving an air of authority and that motherly feeling that was always present now even stronger than before.
“Oh I thought I wouldn’t be called that anymore?” he grinned, matching the playfulness of the woman from earlier. It was contagious and he was one of the playful ones too.
“It’s only to know what name I should be yelling for if you misbehave” she snickered. “I will use your name when I feel it's appropriate. Now rest, you still need to recover so sleep some more, I will wake you when the food is ready”.
Vash smiled at her, grateful for all she has done for him without knowing anything about him “Thank you so much Miss Melanie, I will and thanks again”.
Miss Melanie snorted and walked to the door “No need to say thank you more than one time, better show me how grateful you really are once you can stand little boy” and finally she left the room with a wave.
It was funny, being called a little boy or young man by people who were potentially two or three times younger than him. He can’t say he hated it though, on the contrary, he enjoyed most of it.
He allowed himself to close his eyes again, knowing that he was free from danger. His wounds would heal quickly with the undisturbed rest.
Before he knew it he was asleep again, content knowing that there was a new name in his list of notoriously kind people, and he would be around them for a while until his debt was repaid, excited to know more of the kids as well.
It would be a good stay while it lasted. He was sure of it.