Chapter 6: Cue the chase scene

Everyone stared at the bullet-ridden booth in trepidation, eyes glued to the man curled on the floor as red pooled under the infamous outlaw's head. The diner was quiet as the onlookers didn't dare look away holding their breaths.

Five seconds pass. Ten.

Fifteen.

"We…did it!"

Relieved, and more than a bit shocked, the gunmen relaxed. Joy flooded their systems when the unruly gang realized that they actually killed the man worth 60 billion double dollars. Whoops of glee were let loose into the air as the men celebrated.

"Hahaha!"

"We did it!"

"Sixty billion double dollars!"

All but one man that is.

As Magnus' comrades were hooting and hollering, he stood still, eyeing the 'dead' man with a wary frown. Call him a Debbie Downer, but he finds it hard to believe that the so-called "Human Typhoon" would be taken down by a simple ambush. Something was wrong.

Noticing the look of doubt on his friend's face, the baldy of the group turned to Magnus. "What's this, Magnus?"

Looking back, Magnus kept his gun pointed at Vash. "..."

"Are you being cautious?"

He nodded, turning back to look at the dead man with a skeptical expression. "Look at his blood. I think we should move him and take a look…" Magnus' words trailed off into the back of his throat as he paled and immediately started sweating in fear.

Oh shit.

Heaven.

Ozzy's spongy little mushroom brain could only think of one thing to do, and that was to realize he was in Heaven.

If holding Vash's hand was like drinking lemonade on a hot summer's day; being held by him was comparable to being bundled up on a soft bed on a rainy day and eating pastries as you watch late-night movies, taking the occasional sip of hot cocoa poured into a large mug.

With Vash's larger frame pressed over his body to shield him from harm, Ozzy had to remind himself to breathe, regretting that reminder, however, when he received a whiff of Vash's delicious scent in return for his troubles. A hot chest pressed against his own, their heartbeats pitter-pattering undeniably in sync like a drumline ready for battle.

"You alright there, Ozzy?" Hot puffs of air brushed against his ear as Vash breathed. "Anything hurt?"

Ozzy could only let out a strained squeak in answer, trying not to drown under the entirety that was Vash—as well as the smell of ketchup.

"Good," Vash let out an imperceptible sigh of relief, not knowing that the sight of his flexing neck was causing Ozzy strange heart palpitations. "Just act dead for now, I'll take care of things."

"Hey, hey, Miss, what's with that face?" A member of the gang asked with an arrogant smile.

"Don't worry, we'll compensate you for the damage we did to your store. It's all good."

"Really?" A man piped up.

The baldy loudly laughed. "Sure thing! This one enemy is worth 60 billion double dollars to the head honcho, and…" He paused mid-sentence when a weight made itself known, paling as he turned around to see the sight of the aforementioned enemy slinging his arm around Magnus' shoulder with a friendly smile, his partner looking gobsmacked at the current situation.

"I'm so glad!" Vash leaned in with a wide smile, finger still plugged into the barrel of Magnus' gun. "I was worried you weren't going to fix it!"

Everyone could only stare at the strange scene before their eyes. The baldy was speechless in the face of Vash nonchalantly leaning against Magnus. "..."

"Tomato ketchup." The blonde brought a bottle of the condiment up to show him with an annoyed frown. "I got ketchup all over my coat. You are going to pay for the cleaning bill, right?"

Luckily, none of the condiments stained my clothes because Vash dragged me down underneath him first.

Seeing that his strange friend had things handled, Ozzy got up from my seat on the floor and made his way to the untouched plate of tuna melt. Compared to the bullet-ridden booth and the shattered dishes, Ozzy's plate sat innocently in the middle of the carnage unharmed with not a single bit of debris touching the dish. Not caring for the dumbfounded looks he garnered from the onlookers, he picked up a slice and brought it under the veil to nibble on as he watched the scene unfold. His equally unharmed crook and messenger back were by his side in preparation for what was to come.

This is pretty tasty.

"No…" Looking away, the bald man gave a tense smile. "I'm going to fix this…" Quickly, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at Vash's head, ready to pull the trigger once more. "I've run out of patience, and I'm sending you on a one-way trip to Heaven!"

Terrified, the waitress, mother, and boy all tensed in fear, waiting for the volley of bullets to happen, only to pause in confusion at the sound of pop pop pops that were instead released.

Ozzy quickened his chews, nearly halfway finished with the first half of his sandwich.

All three gunmen standing before Vash were frozen in shock, 2 toy bullets suctioned onto each gawking face. Too dumbfounded to speak, they stood still and tensed.

Shaking his head, Vash sighed. "Trouble." He put on a stressed expression. "What trouble is this! Can we bring this little altercation to a proper conclusion?" Vash pleaded with a smile. "Can't we just talk this out?"

"Wha—what are you…" A shivering man trailed off, the answer rather obvious to deduce. It's clear he wasn't prepared for anything like this to happen.

"That's right." Vash realized, sheepishly smiling as he rubbed the back of his head. "I haven't introduced myself properly yet."

They held their breath.

With a hand holding his chin in an artistic pose, Vash looked off to the side somewhere as if looking at a faraway world. Out of nowhere, sparkles began to appear and dazzle around his face, as if he were a model in a magazine. An occupation Ozzy's sure Vash can make work very well. "I am just the man I appear to be." More sparkles appeared. "A hunter of peace who will continue to pursue the ephemeral thing called love. Do you understand?"

Obviously, that didn't work. But neither did the baldy's attempt to shoot the man in red. After being utterly defeated, the bounty hunters, shame-faced and stripped to their boxers, walked straight out the door with their tails between their legs.

Disturbed by the sudden stripping and laden with a stack of neatly folded clothes in his arms, Vash was at a loss for words.

"...Well, it's good that they left their clothes and gear to pay for the damages, but I really didn't want to see that." Handing over the boy's gun he borrowed, Vash gave him a thankful look. "Here, this really saved me. Thanks!"

Taking back his gun, the little boy stared at it as if it held all the secrets to the universe. No doubt eager to tell all his friends what happened today.

Ozzy didn't voice his agreement since he stuffed his sandwich in his mouth, but he did nod. The quartet made for a disturbing spectacle in the middle of the road. That aside, the priest quickly reached for his bag and crook preparing for a fast getaway.

Wiping away the nervous sweat that built up on his forehead, an old man let out a sigh. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked Vash, "With all those bullets flying, it's amazing that you're still alive. Why didn't you fire back?"

Vash picked up a slice of untouched bread from his plate and took a happy bite. "That's right! For the price of one bullet, I can get four slices of pizza toast!" Swallowing the bite, Vash showed a more somber expression. "Well, even if I was joking, how can anyone forgive doing harm? Casualties are best avoided, don't you think?"

Ozzy nervously averted his gaze from Vash's words and wrapped the other half of the sandwich in a napkin.

The old man chuckled at the blonde's answer, amused by the nature of it. "That's a pretty strange way for a gunman to act!"

While the rest of the diner laughed in the good mood set, Ozzy got up and strode quickly to Vash, having already sensed the presence of what amounted to a third of the city—the rest of the population either hiding in safety or spread out to increase the range for capture.

"I'm sorry." The previously thought-to-be harmless waitress pointed a gun at the wanted man and smiled, tensing in preparation. Outside the windows, she stood in front of a crowd armed with guns and items to aid them in their attack.

Vash nervously chuckled at the sudden hostility and raised his arms up in compliance. "Umm..."

"If such a wondrous tale were true...half could go for the town expenses, and half we'd split among ourselves!" Solemnly, she raised her gun at eye level, scared and nervous, but no less determined. "Mr. Vash, I'm so so-"

A white plume of smoke suddenly exploded into being with a loud crack as a dark figure grabbed Vash's arm in the confusion of the population's impaired sight. The crowd erupted in a cacophony of gags and coughs at once the scent got in their nose.

"Wha-Ozzy?!" Vash sputtered through the smoke, surprised by the vice grip the priest had on his wrist. The smaller kept a steady hand on his hat as he dragged Vash to safety like a mother duck. "Was that you? "

"Y-yeah." Having made the smoke bomb in a pinch using the pepper shaker and some of his own materials from his bag, Ozzy covered his nose and mouth to prevent any particles from being inhaled. With nary a warning, he jumped through a shattered window with the least amount of people, tall blonde in tow, and ran.

"Here," Ozzy tossed his wrapped sandwich to Vash. "You didn't get to finish eating, so I feel a little bad for you. Eat up."

Vash's eyes teared up with emotion (although that could also be because of the criminally thick cloud of pepper in the air) as he gave a grateful smile to Ozzy. "That's so sweet, Ozzy! You didn't have to do that for lil' ol' me." His words contradict his actions as the blonde tore into the sandwich like a starving hyena, only to choke when a rally of bullets embedded themselves into the wall on their left from a lucky shooter. A stray bullet almost nicked Ozzy's wide hat brim if not for him jerking back last minute.

(His eyes narrowed at that one.)

Effortlessly, Ozzy used the curve of his crook to hook under a stay trash can lid and whipped the deadly frisbee with pinpoint accuracy at their assaulters; the three townsmen previously aiming at them bowled over from the force of the lid comically, landing in a moaning mess of a dogpile.

"Nice one, Ozzy!" Vash whooped gratefully.

"Ah," Realizing what he did, Ozzy shrank back in regret but firmly held onto the shocked blond as he renewed their efforts to escape. "S-Sorry about that! But to be fair, you were shooting at us." The priest hastily called over his shoulder as the two ducked into the alley. Thankfully there were a set of stairs that could lead them to the rooftops just fine.

Still tearing through the sandwich, Vash looked at Ozzy with an amazed look as he followed the smaller up the steps. "Where'd you learn how to do that?" The two stopped in unison before a bullet could hit them, exploding a potted plant innocently sitting on a nearby windowsill.

Nervously sweating, he pointedly looked anywhere other than Vash as they continued their ascent to the roof. "It gets a little boring sometimes around the house I guess."

"So that makes you adapt to throwing trash can lids at people head-on?

Heart pumping, Ozzy looked for a distraction. "Um—oh look! A grenade!" The sweating priest lied and randomly pointed somewhere behind Vash's head, only to regret his words soon after spotting an actual grenade thrown at them.

"You're kidding." he deadpanned under his breath.

Vash let out a noise that sounded like the in-between of a squawk and a choking person in the middle of a Heimlich maneuver. So...he's not having a good time. Luckily—or rather unluckily—he somehow caught it and flung it back, the grenade exploding in the open alley space. The ensuing explosion whipped their hair and clothes wildly, almost knocking over Ozzy's hat if not for him securing a hand over it.

"Go go go!" Vash shrieked, hands frantically pushing at Ozzy's back to go faster up the stairs. Eventually, the blonde just shoved the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and picked Ozzy up to sling him over his shoulder; the action shocked the priest, eliciting a yelp of surprise from Ozzy as Vash zoomed up the stairs like a madman.

"Wait—Stop—I'm gonna be sick!" Ozzy heaved, pressing a hand to his move at the dizzying movement.

"If you're gonna be sick," Vash called out worriedly, wiping away the last crumbs of the finished sandwich from his face, "Please don't be sick over my coat! It's my only one!"

"No promises!"

When they finally made it to the rooftop Vash carefully let down Ozzy, and they sprinted away from the townspeople. However, just as soon as they started running on the rooftops, a surprise attack of bullets caught them by surprise, making them jerk out of the way, resulting in them falling off the edge and into yet another alley.

Death almighty, how many alleys does this place have!? We must've passed at least 40 in the span of a minute.

Despite the high-pitched squeal escaping from his mouth, Vash's long (and deliciously firm) arm wrapped protectively around him, pulling Ozzy into a chest he was getting increasingly familiar with. Vash's buckle-clad legs (they were far more built than the manga depicted him, no twig-legged man anywhere) stretched out to catch onto the walls of the alley in hopes of slowing their descent, his hands joining in on the effort with no little strain with the added weight of a short priest on the gunman's chest.

Thinking fast, Ozzy spotted some cracks in the walls at about the same height and wrapped his legs around the blond's trim waist before slotting Janus—with a quick apology—into the cracks, jerking them into suspension a foot above the ground.

Vash wheezed at the tight clench around his stomach and the forceful arch he was put in.

Shit, he's heavier than I thought. The view's nice though.

From his point of view, Ozzy had a full view of the blond's long and bare neck as it arched back from the force of gravity taking hold of them.

Ozzy could only hold the other by his waist for only so long. Already, the cracks were fracturing from the additional weight and the crook slid further down. "V-Vash, I can't...hold on for much...longer!"

"It's okay," A wheeze and a thumbs up answered. "You can let go, we're not that far from the ground anyway."

Raising a doubtful brow, Ozzy began to loosen his legs from around Vash, "If you're sure—" A flash from the sun reflecting off the barrel of a gun startled the priest from his hold, ending in a volley of bullets shooting at the empty space he was previously hanging at.

"There they are! In here!"

Luckily for him—and unluckily for Vash—he landed on his partner's stomach, head tucked into the red-clad chest while the latter absorbed all of the shock from the abrupt collision with the floor. Before their pursuers could change the course of their bullets, Ozzy quickly jumped up and dragged the other after him by the arm, zigzagging their way through the narrow alley into the open street under the open fire.

Soon they made it up the steps of a building and opened the door to a rooftop. Having gained his sense of awareness back, the blonde rushed to the edge of the building where there was a clothesline connecting to the other side of the next building.

"Come on!"

"Um, Vash? I don't think that's—okay then."

Their roles reversed, this time Vash dragging a nervous Ozzy after him and onto the ominous-looking clothesline. This wasn't the first time he'd ever had a rooftop chase, but this was the first time Ozzy'd ever walked across something as flimsy as a clothesline.

Here goes nothing.

Stepping on the clothesline next to Vash's, Ozzy held Janus out to help balance, offering the end to Vash which the latter gratefully held onto. Unfortunately, three townwomen caught up to them and aimed their guns at them.

"There he is!"

"We found you!"

Ever the flirt, thoughts of their escape were thrown out of the window as he shot them a charming smirk with his unoccupied hand cupping his chin.

"Do you mean me?"

"Not the time, Vash!" Ozzy worried, biting his lips as he tried ignoring the height they were balancing at. A bullet was aimed at his arm as he took another step forward, smoothly evading the metal with a twitch of his arm. Not that he could say the same for Vash, whose line was clipped in the process leading him to free fall.

"Not again!"

With a fond exasperated roll of his eyes, Ozzy tipped off his own line and hooked his crook under Vash's collar to direct him into the closest window before he fell to his death. Granted, there was a lot of broken glass, but Ozzy knew the man was built of tougher stuff. The follow-through was a bit trickier but he had a firm grip on a broken clothesline and swung through the broken window after the blond.

Barely ten seconds had passed before the priest caught up with Vash, crocodile tears flowing down his peachy cheeks like a broken faucet.

"Pourquoi cela m'arrive-t-il, maman ? Je n'ai rien fait de mal, mais tout le monde s'en prend toujours à moi, maman." The blond whined like a wronged puppy.

Faced with such a precious sight, Ozzy couldn't help but smile under his veil and mutter. "C'est peut-être parce que tu es si mignon."

"Huh? What was that?" Vash turned to look at Ozzy, still sniffling his crocodile tears.

"Nothing."

"Right," Putting himself together, Vash wiped away his tears. "Now's not the time to be practicing French—Is that a bomb?"

Following his pointer finger, Ozzy saw that there was, indeed, a bomb being hurled at us. Reflex kicked in and fingers immediately twirled Janus to hook around the bomb and fling it away from them, ending in an explosion of white smoke and debris from the other side. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured. Ozzy could do without the bombs every now and then.

A memory popped into his head while he was running alongside the blond.

Didn't the fight last for four hours?