The Stampede ~Vash x OC AU~

Chapter 2: The Bad Lads in the Badlands

Kanyon

By dawn, I'm already on my tomas, riding out of Jeneora Rock.

It stings to leave without saying goodbye to Rosa – especially after having been so long since I last saw her – but I need to go. I need to get on the road and start back on the search.

Millions Knives.

His face has been burned into my mind ever since that fire so many years ago, haunting me. The screams and the heat, sweat clinging to my brow as smoke filled my lungs on that hellish night... And maybe it's a suicide mission going after him, but I know what I need. I need to know why he did it. Why did he target my family? Why did he kill them? Why?

After I get those answers, I will get my vengeance. He will pay for what he did. He will suffer just as they did nineteen years ago.

By noon, my tomas still runs, her feet digging into the sand heavily, the suns already strung high, their heat beating down on me. Sweat clings to my brow, rolling down the nape of my neck.

Ahead, I scan the horizon, searching. In this hellscape, there is never any saying who is lurking where, and I know that within this vast desert roams several gangs, all no good. They could be hiding anywhere, hidden behind the dunes or in the sand itself, riding their sand sails. In the end, caution and vigilance are both key.

Jonas taught me that. He was the one who taught me everything I know. How to navigate. How to shoot a gun. How to throw a sharp left hook. How to hunt and kill, then cook a worm. How to survive. He taught me all those things. If not for him, I wouldn't have made it these last five years on my own. I would have died the moment I left his side.

But then again, maybe not. Along with Jonas's survival skills, pure, unadulterated spite pumps through my veins, and that spite is what pushes me beyond my limits. All those times I went on without sleep or food – it's thanks to the spite Millions Knives had instilled in me.

Spite that will lead me to my revenge.

Suddenly, as my tomas climbs the next hill, I see something riding toward me. It is far, nothing but a speck at first, but it very quickly becomes clear and vivid. And multiplies from one to five. And my heart sinks.

Shit. Shit. Son of a bitch. It looks like it's the Bad Lads Gang. Of all the gangs, it has to be that one. Of course, it does. Why wouldn't it be?

Casually, I start to steadily veer my tomas to the right, hoping they haven't seen me yet. Hoping they haven't noticed, but they follow. I frown, turning more. Again, they follow. Dammit. They did spot me. Fuck.

I could try to push my tomas into a full sprint, but I know that no tomas is any match for a sand vehicle. Still, anything is better than running directly to them. At this rate, I'm going to run right into their arms.

I think, searching for where to run. As usual, the desert is vast and open with nowhere to hide. No caves or caverns. No divots or valleys. Just this long stretch of sand, so there is only one action to take. To run.

Then fight.

With my heart racing, I jerk on my tomas's reins, pulling her now sharply to the left as I push her to a run. She gallops, her feet pushing off the sand heavily. In the distance, the engines of the sand vehicles rev, roaring as tires dig and pull through the sand.

My heart is in my throat. It's only a matter of time before they'll be on my heels, I know that. So, I dig into my holster, pulling out my pistol. It's already loaded – it always is. I don't use it very often. I try not to. Partly because of the cost of ammo, but partly because I don't particularly enjoy shooting people, but the Bad Lads Gang is a different story. These people are dangerous and deadly. At best, they'll just rob me. At worst, they'll kill me.