Why yes, two days in a row!

I got bribed. Super cookie, to me!

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Had he the energy, Vash would have laughed at the reactions of the guards. They jumped in surprise, almost to a man. But unlike his start they all managed to stay on their feet. One might attribute that to their state of less exhaustion, but Vash thought it might just be one more sign of how life liked to see him act the clown.

One of the men outside, more quick witted than the rest, pushed his way past the man on his right and pressed the switch for the intercom. "You could open the door for us, if you would be so kind." His voice was laden with irony. He obviously didn't believe that Vash would do anything of the sort, but thought that someone should pretend that the easy way was actually an option.

Vash looked at the monitor for a moment before replying, his brain slowly processing just why that would not be his best choice. Seeing the guns helped him keep his focus. "I'm not so sure that would be a good idea. Speaking from this side of the door. You all seem rather hostile."

"Hostile? I don't know where you would get that idea. We just want to get the plant back online, and you saboteurs out of commission. You should know, but that side of the door isn't going to be a safe haven for long. These doors weren't designed to keep people out. You might as well open them now and save yourselves the repair bill."

"I'm broke anyway," Vash muttered, forgetting that they could still hear him in the hall.

"Then we'll just have to take it out in blood."

"Blood?" he whined. "But isn't that a little harsh? Can't we talk about this?" The man at the intercom had already turned away and taken his place on the ram. "Aren't you being a little hasty?" he protested, then sighed. The men in the hall weren't interested in listening to him talk, and he was too tired to come up with any great schemes to get them to go away. "No one ever wants to talk to me when they can be violent instead," he muttered as they shifted into position.

"Fine. Fine!" he said more loudly as the first iteration of the word didn't stop them. "Give me a minute and I'll get the door open. A full minute," he added, knowing he was going to need it.

It was a hard task to get up out of the chair. Given the fact that he knew the armed and dangerous men were coming in with or without his help, assisting them seemed his best option. But the chair was closer to the ground and much more comfortable than being on his feet, and he was so tired that his body had stopped listening to him. It took at least fifteen seconds before he could convince his legs that he was actually going to require more work out of them, and almost that long to get his arms to help push him out of the confines of the nice chair.

Once he made it to his feet his task got easier. The door couldn't have been more than twenty steps away. Twenty very far away steps. Big. Long. Paces. The distance had seemed so short when he had rushed into the room, barely a hint of space before he had reached Anne and Knives. Now it was like a huge chasm, a gulf between him and his goal. Every labored step seemed to barely bridge it, to hardly get him any closer. The press of seconds weighed on him and he was sure that there was no way he was going to reach the door before his time was up. But he made it, and even in less than the minute he had asked for.

Barely.

Reaching the door, he disengaged the lock and tried to palm open the door. Kepping with his luck, it didn't move.

"Um, guys?" he said after turning on the intercom again. "I think you broke it."

"Unlock the door, Vash," came the impatient response.

"I did unlock it. But I can't get it open. Try it on your side."

"The panel still says the door is locked." Vash could hear the rapping of knuckles on the door.

"It's not locked. My panel shows green."

"As far as subterfuge goes, this is pretty weak." The pounding grew louder.

"I'm not lying. The door is… oh."

"Oh?"

"Just… Sparks are bad, right?" Exhaustion slurred his voice as he stopped trying to keep it clear and concentrated more on the new problem. Vash let go of the intercom button and looked about for the fire extinguisher. If they hadn't changed things about, there should be one under the main panel. He dropped to one knee and pried the cover off the recess, then grinned as he saw the bright red canister. As he reached in to grab it something popped and more sparks cascaded down, singing his hand. He couldn't help but wonder what intelligent designer had felt that underneath the potential fire hazard was the best place for the solution, but that thought fled when his fingers closed around the cylinder.

Quickly pulling the extinguisher out, he yanked the pin out and aimed. White foam came pouring out in a satisfying torrent, coating the wall and oozing in the cracks in the panel. Something screeched and died, and then the door slid open.

A little.

Vash turned to look at the door, but the foam making the floor slippery and his general state of exhaustion conspired with his twisted ankle and dumped him on the ground. The guard who had been at the intercom looked in the eight inch crack, his gun aimed at the sheepishly grinning Stampede's head.

"I think I fixed it," he said. "Next time knock a bit more gently, okay? The doors break really easily."