HUMANOID TYPHOON!

He frowns at the other on the floor, a little focused on him now, vial ready to be taken but he listens.

For a second.

"The hell is wrong with you?" He flicks the vial back, wincing at the chilled burn down his throat. It had been quite some time since he'd had one, haven't used them since they appeared in his pocket again. It was weird, watching them seem to replenish when he accidentally broke one, the next day the four vial set was full once more.

Odd.

As wounds hissed shut he at least offered the other his hand before just outright picking the plant up like he weighed nothing - he did - and sat him on a chair. Hands fell to his hips, bare chest displaying the wounds sealing shut.

"those vials...they aren't good! They are going to kill you if you keep chugging them like it's nothing, Nico. You have every right to be mad at me but at least hear me out!" Vash choked up, looking over at him, the wounds disappearing in a matter of moments- and the other none the wiser to the blood he ingested. "I'm...sorry about your lip, I should have not made a grab for it, especially now. Without my arm I'm all out of balance...I panicked." He muttered, pouting out his lip subtly as he hunched over, picking up the glass from the floor and placing it on the arm of the chair, keeping it in mind to discard of later.

"..To be fair, I don't think I WAS thinking, I saw you get hurt and I signed up...really, I just wanted to talk!" Explaining situations where he felt he deserved a beatdown was hard...although his intentions were to talk, he expected Nicholas to lash out in some way. "hey don't worry about me! I wasn't the one stabbed, at least. Does he know you do this anyway?!" Vash softly 'yelled', an almost disappointed sigh leaving him (in an obviously kind way), Vash stood up, fishing out the large roll of cash he had managed to snatch..one of two he managed to snatch.

Bile, mostly saliva but he can smell the acids from the stomach. Did his body even internally sit like a humans? He'd never really asked Nai that yet. He knew the sisters were interesting, their stomachs were mostly in the same place.

So he's torturing himself again. Figures.

The words just make him hiss, scowling as he hunches over him. The crowd is making noise, silencing their arguments to any but those right by them. Even lightly tossing the fruit salad in front of him will shatter something. Can't hide that from Roberto.

"Yeah? Well, now you know. Fuck, Vash, Roberto's gonna kick your ass if he finds out." He groaned, already seeing the scolding he himself is going to get for forgetting people arriving here are basic.

First he thumped the gate, but when no one opened it he just turned, kicking right at the hinges so the door would break open. He saw his hire and scowls.

"We had a deal, Nicholas. You won't get a single key if you walk out." The man's voice is low, a warning, leaving the wolf to twitch.

"Fuck your keys. I'm not fighting a cripple who looks ready to collapse at a breeze, you psycho. I kept everyone alive, like I promised." He snapped, stalking closer to the door, ready to leave.

"You won't be able to afford that house you wanted." The man's words had Nicholas looking ready to kill, the male backing away nervously.

"I said. Fuck your keys. As a matter of fact, fuck you. I quit, and next time I see your little bitches on the street, I'll send them to the ICU rather than just a broken bone." He leaves then, flipping off the crowd booing him to retreat to the back of the place.

There, he finds his cross, groaning as he rubs his face, reaching to snag a towel and wipe his hands, sure to rid himself of any evidence before fishing for the glowing vial as his lung finally complained from the blade wound earlier. He didn't care about the Plant he left behind, he'd run before he followed.

"'m sorry...Roberto told me you were here- well..not here but..somewhere. He doesn't know anything." His lips felt numb as he licked them, a sort of nervous tick he picked up from his time around nervous people...or liars, either one..he could hardly tell. "Nico.. don't-" He called, watching Nicholas walk to the door, fists coliding with the wires of the cage door, before he started kicking- a man telling about some unknown deal. Did he fuck up more than he thought?

Vash huffed in agitation, getting up to follow Nico out toward the back- turning back as he eyed the money pot of onlooker bets...a lot of cash, and a handful of guilt...he slipped behind the desk, pocketing as much as he could in the short amount of time. Vash was naturally rather good at going undetected, but his luck was thin today- and he bolted as soon as someone went to enter the room, catching a glance of the back of his heels as he ran.

The dam cracks apart so, so easily, when before Vash was usually able to smile through anything. This isn't the same though, this is pure and complete devastation. Destruction of the city and himself on a scale that dwarfed Jennora and anything else Roberto knew of. Grief and pain flows off the kid as thick and fast as tears and Roberto follows him down to the ground to wrap his arms around the kid and pull him tight against his chest.

His shirt is going to be very wet, but he doesn't give a damn. One more of his kids is here and suffering, and he's going to do what little he can to try and ease that. One arm around Vash's shaking shoulders, one hand cradling the back of his head. He just lets him cry for a moment before looking up and around, frowning a bit. They're right outside the front door, in full view of anyone on the street. That won't do.

"Come here, kid, I got you."

It's surprisingly easy to scoop Vash up and hold the lanky form against his chest. A little awkward, given the kid's height, but no worse than carrying Astarion around in the end. Vash is worryingly light, and Roberto can't help but wonder if his arm was the only thing providing weight to his body. Is this natural for him, or a result of the way he knows Vash punishes himself by not eating?

Either way, it's easier than he'd have thought to stand up, the older human grunting a little with the effort and the protesting of his joints, and carry the kid inside. The door is summarily kicked closed, and Roberto wastes no time in carrying Vash to the couch. At the very least, they can be a little more comfortable during this breakdown.

He doesn't let go of the kid when he gets settled, just sits down and holds Vash as much in his lap as the long limbs will manage.

As Roberto got up, Vash held on tight, burying his head into the shoulder of the older man who fought his way to the couch; long, spindly legs clinging to his waist and his arm tucked helplessly around his neck- he was determined not to go anywhere for a while, the comfortable cushions of the couch pressing against his side, the stump-for-an-arm aching in memory.

Gently taking the hand of his friend up, he inspected the knuckles, bruised and cracked with time and abuse, a grimace momentarily crossing him.

Warmth. It startles him a touch, blinking as fingers twitch under inspection. He yanked it out of the other's already lax grip, twisting it to yank the taller frame down to his level, growling beneath his breath.

"I promised Roberto we wouldn't fight. Why do you have to be so damn troublesome!" He hissed, their faces close, breaths mingling. This close, without his shades to hide behind, his eyes dart over the other's face.

A thousand thoughts dance in his mind, skittering about, crawling like insects along his consciousness. The world honed in on them, on this very moment. A thousand possibilities spread out, fanning like wings as the light arcs into the unknown-

"Damnit." He cracks their heads together sharply, letting the other go, staining blonde and porcelain pale with crimson. "This is your fucking fault, needle-noggin. I'm not giving you more than that." He turns to the hidden chairman, yanking the dagger from his shoulder and looked down.

Red. Now tanned skin marred with red, always red. His, as it is often, but not always, never always. Briefly, he dances those lines as the world slows. Turn it on the man behind and show him the monster he was, turn it on himself...

Make him suffer the pain we did, make him watch as we die in his arms.

His mind grazes the Coda, the horrors screaming at him. He hisses, twisting to turn on the Plant. All of it was a waste of time, pain pulsing from how tightly he gripped the blade, metal cutting through his skin until he was forced to flex them, to ease the cut before he'd need a vial.

"Tch. On second thought, you want to learn how humans do things? Plant your feet, face me and don't you dare fucking think of running." He throws the blade, careful to avoid the other before closing in rapidly.

Sorry, Roberto. He did it to himself, but I'll go easy.

He aims his shoulder for the other's stomach, mind mapping out the ring, the lumps and bumps, the places where the floor bounces and where it holds taut. To the left, a softer spot the other could land on, minimal force from the wolf, just enough to throw him off.

Four words made his jaw audibly click together. He remembered Roberto's pleas not to fight but Vash put himself in here. He's shaking, eye twitching as he wiped blood from his vision. He hadn't changed, not entirely. The black, he knew the meaning of it, but he didn't speak for a long moment.

"Still refusing to use weapons?" He cracks his neck, buying himself time, staring the other down.

Yes, he physically survived, lived long enough to change, to begin to heal from the trauma before it. But his heart, oh, how fragmented it had been, splintered in ways the city never had a chance to feel. He's shaking, fingers tightening, digging nails into his palms.

"What the fuck are you doing in the ring, idiot?" He knows he looked like hell, let assholes get in strikes, make him bleed. He had a spare change of clothes and a vial so Xuanyu wouldn't know a single thing.

He had to get enough keys for a house.

"You bastard, why do you always have to-" fuck things up. He growls instead of finishing his words, arms crossed as it's clear he refused to give the other anything.

Gently taking the hand of his friend up, he inspected the knuckles, bruised and cracked with time and abuse, a grimace momentarily crossing him.

Once more, he finds himself hauled into the ring. He needed something - to feel pain - intel for something he was working on.

He'd seen the name, had a sharp chat with his 'dad', but with everything else stressing him out, the wedding, trying to be happy, the nightmares and horrors bothering him as hallucinations again...

He feels the blade cut through his skin, snapping him back. He twists, throwing the figure forcefully against the ground, careful to restrain himself. Still, he heard something crack. Soon he was crowned and the stage was cleared for the next one. Two more and the asshole would cough up what he needed.

He turns, cracking his neck as he hears the cage locked up again.

Black, lanky, tall, blonde, blue.

He looked like utter hell.

Sharp eyes catalog the differences between how the Plant looked now and when Roberto had last seen him... waving with a little closed eye smile as the elevator doors closed. Roberto trying to hide the nail in his gut from the other two, and knowing he'd probably failed, Vash definitely aware that this was all a trap for him.

His arm was gone, which was worrisome. Hell, Vash looked a lot like he had after the Rollo incident; exhausted, beaten, drained. Scared.

Roberto himself looks different, but only in the details. Still scruffy, but in a subtly neater way. A familiar jacket, but better made and better material. A leather sachel draped over his shoulder and the familiar small bulge of his derringer in his pocket.

"Oh kid," Roberto sighed and took a step forward himself. "What the hell happened to you, puppy?" He reaches out, slow enough Vash could duck or step away, to carefully ruffle that blonde mop of his. Only to freeze when he noticed something.

There was a chunk of black in Vash's hair that hadn't been there before.

Roberto might not really talk to the Knives he knows much, but Astarion sure does. Roberto knows what that chunk of blackness means.

His coat was missing, his arm was missing- it was like he had been stripped of all that made him 'Vash The Stampede', and the lack of identity weighed on him like cement blocks. It's not like this was awful- but he had lost it all, and now he couldn't figure out what he was.

The soft words given to him tore his eyes back up, lip quivering as he rushed to close the gap, arms wrapped around the thick shoulders of his friend and he clung, refusing to let go as sobs tore from his throat.

Vash was never one to be painfully emotional- how he subtly showed it in many different ways, how he'd cry when he felt he needed to- but never as loud as he was now...maybe once before for pity points from Meryl.

"Nai...JuLai. Roberto, it was all my fault." He whined out, slowly sliding to the floor as his legs caved beneath him, clinging to the familiar jacket he could have sworn was rattier the last time he saw it...it didn't matter, he was just relieved HE was here to live and breathe to his inevitable end of his given lifespan as a human...the one pain he could not avoid, even if he ran.

The downfall to Vash was how reliant he was on others company.

His darkening blonde hair, near black had a feather like consistency now, probably due to the nature of the angel arm- he had taken a heavy hit from that untapped well that had been forced dry, and the transformation had only worsened how exhausted he looked- how fatigued his body felt and how shallow his skin looked- he was at his worst.

So it was no surprise that he'd quickly started keeping track of the auroras that brought new Echoes to the Isle. After all, he had a myriad of people to be looking for, doubled since they found out about the second set of them, and there was no way he was letting any of his kids slip in without him noticing. Hell, as soon as he'd figured out the pattern, he'd set an alarm to check the new arrivals.

The alarm beeped at him while he was settled at his desk, working on putting together an article, and he idly reached over to pluck up his phone and scroll through.

Jinx. What a name. He wondered what kind of person they were as he sorted them into the section of Unknowns on his phone.

Vash the Stampede.

He dropped his phone in his haste to get out of his chair, growling to himself as he snatched it up and grabbed his jacket. By the time he got down to the Tower, the new arrivals would probably be shuffled off to their new places. He had to work fast if he was going to track Vash down before he inevitably scuttled off to hide somewhere.

If it was the older one, maybe he'd sit still for a bit. If it was his ... Roberto didn't even know what kind of state he might be in. Time was of the essence either way.

"Stay the hell still for once in your life, kid," he mumbles to himself, getting a ride to the Tower to start with. He'd just have to track him down from there.

It took a couple of hours of asking people and walking around, looking for any trace of the gunman with the red jacket and blonde hair. Of course, he probably didn't have the gun now. Maybe not the coat. Who knew. Either way, he finally, finally tracked down where he'd gone. His new place, apparently. A good choice, at least.

Roberto took a breath and knocked.