Vash stops running to catch his breath, looking behind to find no one chasing after him.
He and Wolfwood were unlucky to stumble upon the wrong side of town, head first into bounty hunter territory. The last time Vash was here, it was a quiet town. Now, half of it was taken over by a group of gunmen who went after Vash’s bounty as soon as they arrived. During the skirmish, they incapacitated a few men before hiding in an empty house. A quiet moment had them thinking they got away until one of the gunmen decided to bring out a Gatling gun and spray bullets at every building in the vicinity. With debris flying everything, the two men decided to split up, Wolfwood going back to where he parked his bike while Vash found someplace to hide.
He ended up on the outskirts of town.
Vash sighs. He'll wait until Wolfwood shows up so they can head to the safer side of town.
Planning to scout the perimeter, Vash takes a step forward. There’s a snapping sound before Vash falls to the sand. Hot pain flashes across his body, leaving him paralyzed to do anything but gasp for a few seconds. He looks over to the source of the pain and sees something metal has caught his right leg, just below the knee. It’s a worm trap. He stepped into a hidden worm trap, likely by design from the hunters.
His leg is wedged between the teeth of the trap. It sliced through his pants, belts and all, and his skin. Maybe hitting bone too, he can’t tell as he stares at blood pooling on the sand.
He lifts his upper body on his shaking arms, cringing when it causes his leg to twitch and throb from the movement, causing more blood to drip on the sand. Bracing himself with his prosthetic arm, he uses his other to reach for the lock on the trap to set himself free. It’s too far, a foot away from his grasp. He tries again with the help of his gun to reach further. It’s still too far to unlock the clasp. The trap grinds into his leg from his stretching, making him heave from his nerves getting sliced. He can’t free himself without risking losing a leg.
Vash stops trying and lays down on the sand to take a breather. He racks through his muddled brain to find a way out—the only option that sticks out is someone else has to release the clasp. Wolfwood will find him and get him out of this.
He just hopes Wolfwood gets to him first.
Vash stays where he is on the sand, pillowing his head on his arms as he does his best to forget about the possibility of losing another limb. The wound pulses along with his heartbeat making it impossible to ignore. The harsh desert sunlight does nothing but further his misery. He doesn’t know how long he waits but looking up at the twin suns after a while tells him an hour has passed.
Someone yelling in the distance brings Vash out of his light doze—if he can even call it that when the throbbing and the apprehension keep him awake. Wolfwood.
Vash lifts his gaze to the side and sees three figures rushing towards him in the distance. Vash bites his lip, fear filling his chest—Wolfwood didn’t find him first.
Vash swallows back the dread and disappointment bubbling in his throat. He’s defenceless with his leg caught, and can’t run like he knows best in a difficult situation. His only luck is it’s not the bounty hunters’ boss running toward him, the one who had a Gatling gun. Shooting at them will only rile them up and take their anger out on him so the best he can do is buy time until Wolfwood finds him.
It becomes tough to smile when the hunters are within earshot.
“Looky here.” One of the men crouches in front of him, smirking down at him. “Looks like you finally ran out of luck along with your friend.”
Vash sweetens his smile but it’s more a grimance. “Would you be so kind to help a guy out? I can’t run anyways.”
The guy taps his chin while he pretends to think. “I could but that wouldn’t be fun now would it?”
“There’s no fun in kicking a guy down while he’s already on the ground.” Vash tries to reason through his teeth, desperate to avoid losing a leg.
The bounty hunter grabs Vash's hair and tugs his head up to eye level. “Not unless he’s Vash the Stampede.”
Vash gasps when the movement makes his leg move in response. He holds his body up with his arms to alleviate the pull on his hair. The smile on his face is long gone.
“What should we do with him?” One of the other men asks the leader of this posse.
The guy answers by giving Vash an order. “On your knees.”
Vash blinks at him.
He takes too long to act when his head is yanked further up. “Get up!”
Vash winces as he scrambles to sit up on his knees. He holds back the whine when he puts pressure on his right knee, making the trap dig further into his leg. Sweat collects on his forehead from both the pain and exertion. On his knees, he looks at the man.
The bounty hunter grins at him, saying, “Good boy,” and slaps him hard across the face. His sunglasses land a few feet away.
Vash’s vision blurs for a moment at the whiplash, cheek stinging from the strike. He distantly hears the other two men snickering. Vash grits his teeth. Not only is his leg in agony but he’s also getting humiliated.
The bounty hunter tugs his hair to bring his gaze back to him. “If you do what I tell you maybe I’ll let you go.”
Vash knows that’s not going to happen. He doesn’t have a choice though.
“Eyes up.”
It takes a few seconds to bring his gaze back up, glaring at the man squinting down at him with a scowl.
“Still defiant, eh?”
This time he sees the punch before it hits, tensing his jaw to brace himself as he’s hit the same place where he’s slapped. A grunt slips past his lips.
He can take a few punches.
What he doesn’t expect is for one of the men to step on his trapped leg while he’s still recovering from the punch, pressing hard on his ankle. It makes the metal grind further into his leg, making Vash cry out and fall to the sand. He bites his tongue to suppress making any more noises, not wanting to give the men any satisfaction from his pain. He breathes hard through his nose.
He can wait a little longer for Wolfwood.
“Alright cut that out.”
The man thankfully listens, grumbling as he steps off Vash’s leg. Vash wheezes in relief.
The relief doesn’t last long when the leader grasps the back of his head to inspect his face—glassy eyes and a bruise forming on his left cheek. “Maybe I should make use of your pretty face,” he hums. “Stay on your knees.”
Vash hangs his head when the hand lets go of him. There’s a sound of a belt unbuckling and Vash closes his eyes. Please, no.
Vash uses the seconds he has left to empty his mind, bracing himself for further degradation. He can take it.
After the sound of a zipper passes, Vash doesn’t think anymore.
Before there’s any movement, bullets pelt the sand near them. Vash puts the last of his energy into hearing the noise of a motor approaching. The men shout in confusion at the trouble approaching them fast, having paid too close attention to Vash instead of their surroundings.
“Get the fuck away from him!”
The men yelp as more bullets fly across the air. A few shots graze their mark, just missing limbs and non-lethal parts of their body. The group rush to pull out their guns and return fire but this time the bullets find their mark, shooting their hands and knocking their weapons away. Vash hears the men run across the sand, giving up when the bike arrives at its destination.
Vash opens his eyes to see Wolfwood cut the bike’s engine and hop off. Wolfwood kneels in front of him within three seconds with concern written all over him.
Vash smiles, relieved that Wolfwood is here. “You came.”
Something bitter flashes across Wolfwood’s face before he settles with a frown. “Of course I did.” Wolfwood stands to walk over to where the trap is nestled into his leg. Blood still drips into the sand, leaving a dark stain. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Wolfwood finds the clasp. “On three.”
Vash nods, evening his breaths.
“One.”
Wolfwood flips open the lock.
“Two.”
Vash braces his forearms on the ground.
“Three.”
Wolfwood lifts the jaws of the trap in one swoop. Vash lets out a cry as new waves of pain spread from his injury, leaving him trembling. Wolfwood drags Vash away from the trap by his arms when he forgets to move and turns him to lie on his side.
Wolfwood leaves him for a moment while Vash lays on the sand motionless. Vash swallows back the bile that rises in his throat, breathing hard through his nose.
Wolfwood comes back with gauze and bandages. Vash sobs when his wound is wrapped tightly to stem the bleeding. The blood soaks through both materials easily.
Vash tries moving his toes but they feel numb. “I don’t want to lose a leg,” he mumbles.
“You won’t,” Wolfwood responds. He removes his suit jacket and ties it around his wound, making Vash whine. “The worst of it is over.”
Vash hopes so.
Wolfwood leaves his leg alone to heal, shuffling to sit by Vash’s head. Vash gazes up at him without moving and sees Wolfwood’s pinched expression.
Wolfwood uses his sleeve to wipe the blood on his split lip. Then he slides an arm under Vash’s head and lifts him, letting him rest on his lap instead of the sand. Wolfwood head blocks the glaring light of the twin suns as he cards his fingers into Vash’s hair. He’s silent while minutes pass.
“Wolfwood, we have to go,” Vash murmurs when Wolfwood shows no sign of moving. The bounty hunters could come back and bring their friends.
“Yeah,” Wolfwood answers, “gimme a minute.”
Vash’s clouded mind doesn't know why Wolfwood needs more time when he spends it petting his hair. He closes his eyes when Wolfwood drags his hand down to cup his jaw, welcoming the comforting touch after getting mocked and almost losing a leg. He feels a brief press of lips to his temple before the hand moves back up to his hair.
Wolfwood decides he’s done when a few more minutes pass. He slides his arms under Vash’s shoulders and knees, mindful of the wound, and carries him towards Angelina where he’s seated in the sidecar. Vash lets out a pained hiss when he puts his right foot on the floor.
“We'll find a place for you to rest,” Wolfwood tells him, grabbing his forgotten sunglasses on the sand. He turns on the bike's engine. The steady hum that comes a second later causes Vash to loosen the tension in his shoulders, knowing they’re leaving this area, leaving the blood-stained worm trap that sits a few feet away.
Resting his head on Wolfwood’s thigh, they drive away.