Good Night, Vegas Lights

Chapter 6

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that Vincent heard footsteps outside the door. He was sitting in a grimy chair in the center of the shack. The door busted open and before him stood four armed men. Vincent didn't even have a knife.
  "Where is she?"
Vince gave his best smile.
  "Who?"
  "You know damn well who I'm talkin' bout"
  "Do I?"
The one who spoke glanced at Vince's leg.
  "Where'd ya get that?"
He gestured with his gun towards the wound.
  "I'll say, the damndest thing happened last night... Stepped right in a bear trap I did."
He let off his words with a laugh.
  "A bear trap, eh? Sounds awfully familiar... Now if you don't know where this woman we're lookin' for is at, maybe you can help us find her"
A sarcastic hiss hovered over the slaver's words.
  "Depends. What you want 'er for?"
  "She has something that belongs to us"
  "Oh does she now? Seems I recall a woman passing by earlier. She might be your caper. She didn't have nothin' on her though. Doubt she stole from ya"
The slaver said nothing more. He instead raised his gun.
  "You were there seven years ago, weren't you? I know your face."
  "Damn straight I was"
  "Hows it feel then? To just up and loose somethin' like that?"
Vince narrowed his eyes at the man.
  "Simply put, I shoulda killed you that morning"
He laughed.
  "You try anything now, and this shack'll be painted red"
Funny thing is, Vincent already knew that. He didn't have to kill them. He just needed to make sure they wouldn't come back.
  "Not red with my blood it won't"
The man put his finger on the trigger.
  "Forget the girl. She was to much trouble anyway."
The other three looked thoroughly surprised.
  "What?! The boss won't be to happy if we come back empty handed..."
  "We're not going back empty handed you dumbass."
The slaver glared at Vincent.
  "He's coming with us"
Thats just what Vince wanted to hear, even if it was the unthinkable. He stood without even having to be asked. He had always told himself that he'd die a happy man. Lying in comfort somewhere, surrounded by all the jet and whiskey a man like him would ever need. He knew that wasn't going to happen. Not now at least. The moment he sat in that chair he killed himself. He was dead before the slavers even showed up. He was still breathing, but he wasn't alive. He knew he'd finally drop probably in a camp somewhere. Dead from work, exhaustion, starvation, any of 'em. The thought of that moment was welcoming. He had saved Sam's life and that counted for something. The fact that he was going out on a high note eased his mind just a tad.
  "Come on"
Vincent stepped back into the Wasteland surrounded by the four slavers. He was now ready for death to come. He was ready to be with Elizabeth again.