NOTE: This story is based on the hit action film Desperado, and whether it
is based sorely or loosely is up to whom it may concern. If you don't like
movie fics you don't have to read it, but I like writing them and I'm not
creative enough to think of anything original so shoot me. I don't own
either Trigun or Desperado, Yasuhiro Nightgow and Robert Rodriguez do, so
direct any and all complaints towards said owners.
In Augusta City, a bar was full of lowlifes, drunks and ordinary people. Suddenly the doors swung open and there was a big man dressed in black with a big cross shaped suitcase standing there. Whatever it was it was covered by a big faded sheet and a long strap with buckles. He removed his black shades even though it was the dead of night and walked in. No one could still make out his face because of the shadows he walked through. Everyone figured him for a priest, or just another bible thumper wandering into town to set up a mission, but they were wrong.
The bartender and drunkards at the counter turned to see him as he wandered in. He sat down the big cross suitcase by him and took a seat on one of the stools.
"What do you want?" the bartender grumbled.
"Scotch and soda on the rocks, and information." The priest said, grabbing the man by his apron strings.
He began whispering questions into the bartender's ear, but the people sitting at the table stood up and revealed pistols and machineguns pointed at him.
The priest turned to them, but not before he took that giant cross and swatted two of the men nearest to him with it. He grabbed the gun one was holding and unloaded on the other thugs before they could fire back. When he was out of bullets he undid the strap on the cross, and all hell broke loose.
Later after all the goons were on the ground he finally got what he wanted from the bartender, his drink, and information concerning a certain man.
As the priest turned though the bartender raised a pistol, but before he could get a shot off the preacher man sank one in his head with his own pistol, and with that he left the bar, or what was left of it.
In Augusta City, a bar was full of lowlifes, drunks and ordinary people. Suddenly the doors swung open and there was a big man dressed in black with a big cross shaped suitcase standing there. Whatever it was it was covered by a big faded sheet and a long strap with buckles. He removed his black shades even though it was the dead of night and walked in. No one could still make out his face because of the shadows he walked through. Everyone figured him for a priest, or just another bible thumper wandering into town to set up a mission, but they were wrong.
The bartender and drunkards at the counter turned to see him as he wandered in. He sat down the big cross suitcase by him and took a seat on one of the stools.
"What do you want?" the bartender grumbled.
"Scotch and soda on the rocks, and information." The priest said, grabbing the man by his apron strings.
He began whispering questions into the bartender's ear, but the people sitting at the table stood up and revealed pistols and machineguns pointed at him.
The priest turned to them, but not before he took that giant cross and swatted two of the men nearest to him with it. He grabbed the gun one was holding and unloaded on the other thugs before they could fire back. When he was out of bullets he undid the strap on the cross, and all hell broke loose.
Later after all the goons were on the ground he finally got what he wanted from the bartender, his drink, and information concerning a certain man.
As the priest turned though the bartender raised a pistol, but before he could get a shot off the preacher man sank one in his head with his own pistol, and with that he left the bar, or what was left of it.