it isn't the first time they've found themselves in the middle of a shootout amongst the rubble and ruin of a town long forgotten and lost to the sands. it also isn't the first time that wolfwood's demanded the stampede leaves and lets the undertaker deal with their issue himself. of course, such an order was vehemently denied by vash as he stubbornly reloads his pistol and turns his attention back to the bounty hunters intent on getting their hands on the ever-growing fund that comes with vash's head.
dust settles around them, filling the air where it sprays from bullet holes missing their mark and hitting old, crumbling walls. blood rushes in vash's ears as he glances to the side where wolfwood sits across the alleyway from him, ducked beneath what remains of an old shop front. cerulean gaze is paired with pinprick pupils and a shake of his head. don't do it. he knows what wolfwood's usual tactic is - they also both know how low he is on those vials of his. he begs his friend and partner with the look in his eyes. let me figure this out - i'll find a way. don't go out there.
there's a lull in the cacophony of flying bullets and shrapnel as their hunters seem to understand they've not hit their mark yet. a glance, tentative in nature around the side of his chosen cover reveals the last thing the stampede had hoped for. they're advancing. there's at least six against the two of them. another glance towards wolfwood and a desperate expression. he can't shout like he wants to - can't plead with the priest not to do what they both know he wants to. vash raises a hand, palm out. stay there. please stay there. the hammer is pulled back on his gun. he has to act first - has to do something before wolfwood can act.
teeth grit and the stampede ducks out from behind his hiding spot, met with a hail of bullets as he scrambles to his feet and turns tail - leading the group further away from where wolfwood sits with the punisher. he will not let wolfwood get hurt because of him. not again. not today. / @wolfcross .
