Notes: This has been re-loaded. I after watching some more Trigun eps, I realized he was horribly out of character, so I made a few changes to Vash himself.

Also, thoughts have been changed to ::word:: because the Internet is stupid and made weird symbols with my previous...thingies.

Enjoy!

*~*

The night was just getting started in Sundown Tavern when a stranger to the small town walked slowly in, sat at the bar, an ordered a drink. Sipping slowly, he let his gaze wander around the dusty bar, which was noisy and packed with people. It was mostly cowboys and their friends, a few girls wandering around, most were barmaids and possibly call girls. It was a small, unfriendly bar that served as a cheap hotel on the second and third floors, and since it lacked entertainment, it was good for only one thing: getting drunk. The blond, spike-haired man wasn't planning on being completely wasted, but was just looking for a good buzz that would cheer him up. As his turquoise eyes, distorted somewhat by his yellow-lensed glasses, looked around, a young girl-nineteen at most-coyly wandered up to him and leaned seductively against the bar counter and smiled.

'Hey stranger, can I get ya anything? Nothing too expensive around here...but it's still good.' Her voice was low and throaty, pleasing to listen to. Her eyes were a pale shade of blue that contrasted beautifully with her glossy, black hair. Her tight fitting dress didn't even try to hide her body, and the man found himself unable to quite take his eyes away from the low-cut top.

'I...uh...' He giggled nervously, causing the girl to raise an eyebrow curiously.

'What, poor baby not sure? Maybe I help make up your mind...if you have what I need.' As she leaned in closer, there was a loud crash behind them. A couple of men who had imbibed a bit too much had started a quarrel and began knocking over chairs.

'Chrissy, better go calm them idiots down.' The barkeep had come up behind them from the bar, and glared at the blond man who was wearing the strangest red trench coat he had ever seen. 'Don't waste your time on this guy, he don't have the money for you. Go smooth things out over there, they have the cash you want.' Rolling her eyes, 'Chrissy' pushed herself away and sauntered over to the agitated men to calm them down. After a minute or so, one of them laughed then tossed the girl over his shoulder and started walking up a pair of stairs. Chrissy forced herself to laugh over her humiliation, but no one noticed. The other three sat themselves down at another table, slightly closer to the bar. Normal activities ensued as people went in and out of the bar, up and down the stairs. The man in the red coat watched everyone's coming and goings, and found himself particularly interested when a figure in an everyday hood and cloak came silently in, but left his hood on. No one else bothered to look up as he walked to the bar and sat three stools away from the blond haired man. When the bartender went over to take the hooded man's order, the first man couldn't even hear. A mug of beer was produced and he drank in silence, head down, hood on. After a while it seemed nothing would come of him when the three cowboys noticed the still figure. All three got up, beers in hand, and proceeded to encircle the hooded figure.

'So what's with the hood, mister? Too ashamed to show yur ugly face?' The one man grinned mockingly, ruining what could have been a handsome face. His two friends laughed and nodded to each other. The cloaked figured raised his head and a gruff voice came from inside the hood.

'It is not shame, it is consideration for the people in here. I was caught in a fire, and my face was badly burned. To show it would cause the women to swoon and young bloods to turn away in fear and disgust. With every shocked face I remember my mother...she was killed in that fire.' His voice was weary, old, and amazingly sad. The two men behind him backed away after hearing this, taking pity on the old man, but the first drunken cowboy stayed.

'So mister lost his mommy, and now he drinks away his pain everyday. C'mon, what's yur story? Ya can't form relationships because your life is fucked up, so you travel from place to place, taking comfort in drinks and hookers. Am I right? Tell me, am I right?' He laughed, elbowing the cloaked man, spilling some of his drink. It was apparent he was getting annoyed, but tried kept his anger in check.

'Yes, that's exactly it. I drown my life in booze and screw women in the dark so they aren't terrified of my face. Yes, you got it down to the letter,' he said disgustedly, then took a long gulp of his drink and motioned for more. As he waved, the cowboy looked at his hands, which, though partially covered by fingerless riding gloves, were dirty and calloused and surprisingly slender. The blond man frowned, they didn't look like old hands at all.

'You got tiny hands, ya feminine bastard,' he chuckled. 'Yur a Goddamned lady with dirty hands!'

'Better that my hands are feminine than other features,' growled the cloaked man. The cowboy slammed his glass down.

'Just what the hell d'ya mean by that? Are you insultin' me?'

'No more than you've been insulting me all evening, young blood, so pipe down and back off. Have some respect for your elders. All I'm trying to do is have a drink before I get on my way. I have no trouble with you, and I'd prefer to keep it that way for simplicity's sake.' The cowboy narrowed his eyes.

'Coward.'

'Say what you want, I'm going to finish my drink in peace.' The cowboy stood where he was for half a minute, then burped loudly and stumbled back to his friends. After a few moments, the blond man got up and sat down next to the hooded man.

'You handled that situation very well.' The man's head looked up, still covered in the hood and shadow. 'My name is Vash, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry about your mother. Was it recent?' There was a pause.

'No. I was a child,' the man said shortly. 'But I really don't feel like talking, sir. Thank you for your pity, but I do not need it. I prefer to be left alone.' Vash looked crestfallen.

'Oh, ok. Well, I just want you to know you have a friendly face in this town so long as we're both here.' He waited for a response, but the man was again silent, so Vash moved back to his stool.

After a while, it seemed like there was going to be quiet and calm, but a high pitched scream suddenly sang through the air. A young man with red hair had stood up and was holding a gun to one of the bar maids' head, who was yelling and struggling.

'Shut up bitch!' he yelled at her, giving her a sharp squeeze that left her breathless. 'Alright, everybody, I think most of you know the drill. Stay exactly where you are and hand the gentlemen that are coming around your money, your jewelry, and anything else we might ask you for. Try anything heroic and this lovely young lady will being getting her last tip. And even if you're willing to risk her life, there will be someone ready and willing to shoot you. So y'all better behave!' A silence fell onto the crowd as women gave up necklaces and rings, men gave up guns and money, and the bartender was relieved of some expensive whiskey by about fifteen men, not including the man holding the woman hostage. One of the thieves approached the cloaked man.

'Hand over your stuff, old man.' The cloaked man held up his hands slightly.

'I only brought in enough for a drink. My gun and money are with my horse.' The thief sneered.

'Intelligent. Don't you realize it'll just be the stable boy taking your stuff?'

'Well, I trusted the people in this town-a mistake so it seems.'

'I don't believe you. I do hope you aren't lying.' He tried to look inside the man's cloak unsuccessfully.

'My apologies, but I am empty. Sorry, but you can't always get what you want.' The thief laughed and moved on. The ring leader was smiling as he watched, but a man of small frame with wild black hair was looking nervous.

'Are you sure this is OK, cause this wasn't one of our jobs. Will LB be angry with us? I mean, angry that we're acting on our own-'

'Of course not, dipshit! He'll appreciate the income.' The black haired man nodded swiftly, then looked back at the silent room.

During the course of their conversation, Vash had been going back and forth between the thieves and the hooded man, while trying to determine when to stand up and put and end to the cruelty. He was surprised how easily the thief was turned away, but the old man seemed to have the power to make people act in the way he wanted. He had been still the entire time until the small man had mentioned LB, whoever that was; he jumped up as if stung, and swung around to stare at the offending men. The thief who had demanded his money was walking towards Vash when the hooded man stopped him.

'Wait, I do have something to give.' He reached into his cloak and, in a liquid smooth motion, pulled out a gun and smashed the thief in the face. Vash realized too late that the man was raising his gun and without even pausing, pointed across the room and pulled the trigger, shooting the leader in the throat. Gurgling painfully, he slumped onto the woman, who went into a shock like state and fell underneath him. As his blood poured out onto her clothing and arms, she screamed hysterically and clawed to get away from him. But as he fell, everyone else had started moving and everything happened at once. Yelling out, Vash had tried to hurl himself into the old man to prevent him from killing the thief, but it was too late. There had been no warning at all. Cursing at Vash, the man punched him with his free hand and leapt behind the bar. Trying to avoid flying bullets, Vash dove for a table, and many people just threw themselves to the floor. All hell was breaking loose, as gun fire rang out, tables were tossed to the ground, and people were screaming randomly. Vash was lost; the thieves and regular cowboys were indistinguishable to him. The cowboys knew who to shoot because they knew each other, same with the thieves, but Vash didn't know anyone at all. Out of the corner of his eye, Vash saw the hooded man peek over the bar and shoot quickly.

::How the hell does he know who to shoot?:: Vash wondered bitterly and sadly. True, the thieves had threatened all their lives, but killing anyone was never the answer! The old man ran from behind the bar and threw himself against a section of wall that extended from a doorway, peered around the corner, and fired several rounds, and quickly slung back when the fire was returned. He began forging a solitary path around upturned tables and large posts that held up the ceiling; Vash started to follow.

*~*

The man was angry as all hell. He didn't feel like dealing with these idiots, but of course he had started this, so he had to finish it. Hopefully there would be some information that could be extracted from the assholes with guns. He leapt behind another table and reloaded his gun, then looked up to the wall two feet in front of him; it was actually a wide, ceiling length mirror, covered with grime and dried beer. Through the crud the man saw the reflection of a thief looking around and their eyes locked. 'Shit!' The old man swiftly jumped from where he was, but not before the thief shot into the mirror and the bullet ricocheted into his right shoulder. Cursing and clutching the wound, the man roared, stood up, shot, and sent a bullet into the offender's heart.

Meanwhile Vash was finally figuring out who the bad guys were and incapacitating them as quickly as possible; there weren't too many of them left, and many were dead. He had tried as hard as he could to save as many lives as possible, and was relatively successful. Suddenly it seemed like it was all over; everything was quiet again and the old man was striding towards Vash, gun down at his waist. He stopped two feet in front of Vash, looking down at an unconscious man. Vash could only stand there silently, staring at the hidden man, pain and sadness enveloping him as he realized how many had died-how many this man managed to kill. The man began to turn around when there was a furious curse behind him and one of the thieves staggered up, bloody and half dead, raising a gun towards Vash. Before he could react, the man pushed him out of the, yelling 'Get out of my way!' and threw himself into the last thief. Vash stared in shock, surprised that he would save him...and surprised by the long hair that billowed from the hood as it flapped off. He scrambled up and looked over the long table the man has vaulted himself over and gaped; instead of an old graying man, it was a young woman with dark brown hair that was leaning over the downed thief. ::A woman...?::

'You listen to me, shit face,' the girl spat quietly into the thief's face. 'I know who you work for and I know he's going to be bailing your ass out of here-if you live. So next time you see him, tell him that his only mistake is coming back to haunt him.' She punched him in the jaw, tossed her hood on, and stood up, looking at Vash. 'As for you, forget I'm a woman. In fact, it would be better if you forget you ever met me, because I never met you.' She turned away, leaving Vash confused. People were helping the injured, covering the dead, retrieving their money, and comforting those who were terrified. The girl tapped another barmaid on the shoulder. 'Bring me up hot water, soap, and some rags to my room, I'm in number 6. Please be swift, you'll be paid all the better if you are prompt.' The young barmaid was somewhat hurt by 'his' callous behavior, but nodded and went to get the items. Vash watched as the cloaked women climbed the stairs to where the bedrooms were, but his attention was soon needed elsewhere and he began to help. Try as he might, Vash was unable to stop the tears from flowing as he helped cover the dead with table cloths. It was about twenty minutes later that he was able to stumble up the stairs.

*~*