He’d been watching the man from the moment he entered the bar. The leader of some gang, most likely. Tall. Strong. Not too bad-looking. He was known for his womanizing ways, ruthless manner, and was respected by his men.
And he’d shot Vash.
Whether he’d been after the old bounty, some personal grievance, or just trying to make a name for himself, they didn’t know, but the gang leader had opened fire on the Humanoid Typhoon once he’d recognized him in the street. Not an unusual occurrence, Vash would shriek as if he were frightened while effortlessly dodging the shots his way until the attackers ran out of bullets or the Sheriff showed up to see what the ruckus was about. This time, however, there had been civilians in the crossfire, and the man used them to his advantage. Knowing Vash would dive in the way, he’d fired on an older couple too slow to flee, and Vash- that idiot- had flung himself in the line of fire. He was in the hospital now, and while Wolfwood knew that idiot would be fine (he’s had worse injuries than that before), there was still some business he had to attend to.
Rising to his feet, the priest made his way up to the bar, on the other end as his target, signaling to the bartender for another whiskey. He heard muttering coming from the far end. Good. He’d gotten his attention. Halfway through his drink, the shooter approached him.
“Hey. I recognize you. Weren’t you in the square durin’ that fiasco this morning?” He wasn’t wrong, Wolfwood had been further back in the crowd, not trusting himself to intervene. He knew he’d likely kill the man, and get yelled at by Vash for it later. But Vash wasn’t here right now.
“I was, yeah. Surprised you can tell.” He leaned back on his bar stool, giving the gang leader a once-over. He was taller than him, that’s for sure. Probably consider himself stronger, too. Heh, wasn’t he in for a surprise... “Quite the mess, heard you were goin’ toe-to-toe with the Humanoid Typhoon himself. Takes some skill to do that.”
“That’s right!” The gang leader’s chest swelled with pride as he took the seat next to him, his buddies remaining on the far end of the bar once it was clear their boss wasn’t about to start a fight. “Recognized the outfit. Not to mention that big ol’ cross of yours.” He nodded to where the Punisher was leaning propped up against the wall. “It’s kinda hard to miss. Anyways, looks like the legendary outlaw was no match for the likes of me! It’s just a shame the Sheriff showed up or I’d of finished him right there!” He didn’t notice the ‘priest’s’ hand tighten on his glass.
“Well if that’s the case, why not a round to celebrate yer near-victory.”
Wolfwood spent the next twenty minutes or so fluffing the man’s ego, easily goading him into round after round of drinking until the man could barely sit up straight. He’d caught the hint of interest in the boss’ eyes, fueled further by the drinks. After the sixth round, Nicholas had gotten up, announcing he was headed out back to ‘stretch his legs’. As he passed the bar, he could hear the gang leader following behind him, telling his buddies he’d be a few minutes.
Once the drunken fool got out back, however, a swift blow to the throat had him on his knees, gasping for air before he could even comprehend what hit him. Another hit to the small of his back had him reeling, looking up from the dirt to stare down the barrel of a gun.
Wolfwood’s aim remained steady as the gang leader choked and wheezed, likely attempting to call his men or plead for his life. Piece of shit. He hadn’t cared about the lives of those he put in danger with his little stunt, he likely wouldn’t care when he goes to the next town and kills more people. The world was better off without men like him; besides, he’d forfeited the right to live the moment he’d turned his gun on the man he’d been ordered to protect. He pulled the hammer back, ready to fire.
‘Thou shalt not kill, remember?! What kinda churchman are you, anyways?!’
“Dammit, Spikey, get outta my head!” Nick growled under his breath, shaking his head as if it’d dislodge any second thoughts. He was a top member of the Eye of Michael, dammit! A Gung Ho Gun! He’s killed men for lesser crimes than this, and he’s done so without a second thought, so why was he hesitating now!?
It was his job to protect Vash from pieces of shit like this. Not only that, he wanted to protect Vash from pieces of shit like this! Dammit, ever since that blond-haired bimbo crashed into his life, nothing made sense anymore!
He was one of Knives’ pawns. He was Vash’s friend. He’d been raised to kill, knew it was the best way to keep fuckers like this from attacking his charge again, simple as that! But he remembered Vash’s face that day with Rai-Dei...
“.........” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get that idiot’s annoying voice out of his head, those disapproving eyes that pierced right through his soul, judging him for all his crimes in the past... But beyond that, he didn’t want to see that look of pain and anger directed at him again. Not until the day finally comes where he has to betray Vash to his brother, at least...
That said, he couldn’t just let someone like this go on his merry way, could he? After all, the only rule was ‘thou shalt not kill’~!
......
“Early this morning, a man identified as Gregory Mason, the leader of the Mason Moonriders gang, was discovered in an alley behind a bar with all four limbs broken. He claims he was too drunk to remember what happened, and is currently undergoing care at the local hospital. The perpetrator has not been found, but police suspect rival gang activity.” Vash frowned, looking up from the morning newspaper delivered to his hospital bed. He gave the priest by the window a look. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you, Wolfwood?”
“Nope.” The priest innocently sipped at his coffee. “Not a clue.”