A pointless note: my first draft of this chapter had exactly 666 words. When you sit down and start typing words, you have to start with the first, move on to the second, then the third, then the fourth and so on - just keep going and you'll get there eventually.

But still.

Sometimes you just gotta laugh.

Rewired Stampede Profiles

Case File two of four:

Monster

In the not too distant past, we crashed on this arid, sandy world.
Before long, towns were built around the ships which, through some miracle, survived the fall relatively intact. Of these many towns, there were seven that became cities, but the people were forced to rely on what few resources were still available. Even so, over a hundred years, we found a balance with this world. Even the population decline, steady since the fall, had slowed nearly to a stop.

Then a devil was awakened.

One of the cities completely vanished in the space of one night, slashed out of its foundations and its pieces scattered to the wind. It was the third city, July. To this day, people still call it Lost July.

Thus, a story was passed down through the generations, about the shadow of a blond-haired man that lingers still in the shadows of the rubble.

The story of Lost July is very notable for several reasons - some people hold that it was God's last act of contempt for the human race, others take it as a warning against various things - but there is one fact even more important than all these supposed truths:

It marks the first time the name 'Vash the Stampede' appeared in the annals of history.

"Ah! Ah! AH! AH!"

Vash didn't exactly recall how he'd begun falling face-up between two buildings in the middle of April City (that is, he knew he'd jumped off the one on his right, he just didn't remember how it'd led to that), but what he really needed to do was figure out how to get down without dying.

"Ah!" This one was an 'ah' of inspiration, not... whatever the other noise was.

His boots stabbed out at the walls on either side, letting loose a hideous screech as they dragged down the rough stone (on the right) and clay bricks (on the left). His teeth bared in an unconscious snarl of effort.

"RAAAAAAAGH!" Vash roared as he shrieked down the walls. His body hissed to a stop fourteen centimeters above the desert floor.

A bullet snapped and ricocheted underneath his head.

"There he is! The bounty-head!"
"Get him! Surround him!"

Humans.

Vash dropped to the ground. More bullets crashed out of the hunters' guns and pierced the sand around him.

Useless humans.

Vash turned his eyes on the bounty hunters and gave them a vicious grin. The fools actually rocked back a step in fear. It just made his grin grow.

Stupid humans.

He charged at them, still grinning that evil grin. His right hand snapped to his hip and brought up a monstrous silver revolver. The bounty hunters turned - turned! - and ran away at top speed.
"COME BACK HERE, YOU STUPID WORTHLESS MEATBAGS!" Vash screamed at their backs. The revolver floated up to eye level. "COME BACK HERE TO ME AND TASTE A FEW BULLETS!" He fired off one shell.

The shell punched through a dangling earring, flew past two shoulders, ducked under fifteen armpits, pierced three loose jackets (plus one buttoned and one zipped), threaded its way through one pair of legs (grazing one unfortunate set of unmentionables on the way), ruined three pairs of pants (seven, if you count each wearer's choice to soil him- or herself), untied two shoelaces and broke someone's ankle before kicking up a cloud of dust as it cracked into the loose ground in front of the mob.

"AAAAAAGH!" yelled the man with the broken ankle as he stumbled and fell. His panicked attempt to escape from the Humanoid Typhoon down a side street brought him out from under the trampling feet of the mob and under the cover of a conveniently placed pillow fort.

"COME ON!" Vash yelled. "THEY'RE DELICIOUS! THEY EVEN COME IN PHOSPHORUS-TIPPED! Sorry about your ankle," he added briefly as he passed a pillow fort on his wild run. "STOP RUNNING, YOU COWARDS!"

Layers of dust covered the air around them, shrouding them in darkness as they fled from the gold-haired devil. A few - very few - loaded rounds into their guns as they ran. One woman holding a rifle wheeled around and put a bead on Vash. She put her finger on the tri-

KBLAM SKEEEECHhoooooooooo...

-gger and pulled it hard. Her brows knitted in confusion (why didn't it fire? did it get jammed?) as she brought up the rifle and turned it on its side. It looked perfectly fine - no dust in the chamber or anything at first glance.
She turned and kept running, cursing herself and her bad luck.

Behind her, Vash smiled a little more honestly. One firing pin shot off a rifle, and no one the wiser. They'd just think he missed on purpose.

He loved humans.

Oh, yeah, the act. "WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME, MAMAN?!" Vash yelled, throwing in a perfect French accent on the last word - not that anyone on the planet would appreciate the effort he put into that one little touch. "I DON'T DO ANYTHING WRONG, BUT EVERYONE'S ALWAYS AFTER ME, MAMAN!"

The mob jostled around a corner. A few people tripped, and scrambled quickly to their feet as fast and frantic as they could.

Vash stopped in his tracks, smirking to himself on the job well done. The revolver's cylinder flicked out, and he promptly flicked rounds into the two empty chambers. The revolver clicked its shells back into place, then shoved itself into a holster at Vash's right hip.

Then the smile vanished. "...Anyway, this really isn't the time to be sobbing in French, is it? And why are so many locals after me, anyway? Honestly..." Hearing boots scuffling closer, he hopped quickly up a pile of crates before vanishing into a window a few stories off the ground.

Three members of the April town council ran into the alleyway one second later. They scanned the walls and the side-ways quickly, efficiently, then gathered briefly in the center of the street.

"Oy. He's vanished again."

"Chasing this guy is like chasing a frickin' ghost. Come on, he's prob'ly right around the corner and puttin' more bullets into that damn gun of his."

A dog with a really high-quality hearing aid might've caught a bit of chuckling from a fourth-story window on the south side of the alleyway... but he'd have to be listening pretty hard.

"Welp, s'not like we've got much of a choice, is it? The town needs that bounty... c'mon, let's go. He can't be far."

"HE'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"

They glanced in the direction of the voice. There stood Vash the Stampede, arrayed in his blood-red coat and blackened leather. The tails of the coat flew up behind him in a scarlet starburst, bullet holes shining a web of light over his body and dying him as red as the fabric of his coat.

A streak of light fell across his face, showing off a hideous grin.

"START RUNNING!"

Vash really loved humans. They ran so well...