Trigun/Trigun Maximum (c) Yasuhiro Nightow/Shounen Gaho-sha
The clink of the glass echoed throughout the dark and seemingly empty base. A base that was otherwise silent, but for the clink of the glass and the soft tap of approaching footsteps.
"I shoulda known," commented the man in the black suit, through a combination of a cigarette and an Osaka accent. "You're always hangin' around here, Hornfreak. Of course this'd be the first place you'd go."
"Just trying to forget," responded the man with the saxophone case, reaching under the bar for a bottle. "I'm surprised you're so calm about this."
"Hey, you're supposed to be the realist."
Midvalley smirked, keeping his head down. "Yeah. That's why I'm drinking. I can't stop things. So I'm trying to make the best of what I have left."
Chapel watched his partner empty his first glass.
"Me and Hoppered," Midvalley said presently, "we've been talking."
"Oh, yeah?" Chapel leaned backward against the bar, blowing smoke into the cold air and watching it drift toward the invisible ceiling. "You guys finally decide to move in together?"
"Oh, shut up. We were talking about getting out of here."
Chapel's grin vanished. "Are you crazy? He hears about this and you're dead."
"Don't you get it, Chapel?" Midvalley demanded, looking up from his second drink. "We're all dead. I'm already dead. This is the only chance I have." He willed his hand not to tremble as he threw the shot glass down on the bar and refilled it.
Chapel took another drag on his cigarette.
"I can't deny that," he said slowly. "But it's a choice between definitely dyin' and almost definitely dyin'. You have no chance."
"You sound like Hoppered."
"Yeah, well, then maybe Hoppered has more brains than I think he does."
Midvalley restrained himself from retorting angrily.
"Fine, then," he said, as evenly as he could after so many shots. "You saw...you saw him. That thing, that monster. He's a plant, don't you understand? I thought you might want out of this before it's too late." Augusta was still fresh in his mind.
Chapel bit down hard on the end of his cigarette, rather unwisely. "Would ya shut up? If he hears—"
"Yeah, I know." Midvalley stared across the bar into the blackness beyond. "Just mark my words, Chapel. This is it. You won't be getting another chance."
"Chapel," whispered a lazy voice from nowhere. Recognizing it as belonging to Legato Bluesummers, the two men acknowledged it quietly, hoping they hadn't been overheard.
"Your orders," continued the voice faintly, wavering slightly. "You will find the master's brother, Vash the Stampede. You will then wait for further instruction."
After a short pause, Chapel answered, "Yes, Master Legato."
"Good. See that it is done." A note of strain sounded in the otherwise collected drawl.
There was a short silence.
"You know why he's hurt. You saw him smash Legato. With his bare hands." Midvalley was whispering himself now. "You don't even want the slightest chance to get away from a beast like that?"
Chapel took a long while to answer.
"I don't know anymore, Hornfreak."
Midvalley poured another shot and handed it to Chapel. He raised his own.
"Here's to our last chance."
The men drained their glasses.
NOTE: This was re-posted in order to add a disclaimer while I changed the summary.