In some bar, somewhere on this desert planet, a young man was making a rather, unwise decision.

"Excuse, my fellow educated man, me and my companion have scoured the wastes, searched for answers to our sacred quest, and done the impossible on numerous occasions. Now we sit before you, and humbly request that you can provide us drinks, so we may parch our thirsts."

The bartender turned around, who's appearance suggested far from educated, to look at the boy who had done the rather unnecessarily long request for a drink. The boy was a tall boy, 15-16 years in age. He had brown hair that he was wearing down to his shoulders, most of it covered by 1920's-esque hat. He had handsome features, and his blue eyes told you he was someone who was determined. For clothes he wore a brown vest atop a white button-up shirt, and a pair of black pants, with a rifle strapped to his back. He carried a large cross, little shorter than he was, which was rapped in white cloth, and bound be leather straps.

"Sorry Kid, you ain't getting any alcohol with yer fancy smooth-talkin of yer's." The bartender told him.

"Ah, but my fellow scholar, I abor alcohol, vile stuff, me and my compatriot would prefer some soda. Diet, if you have it."

"Only if ya stop flappin yer lips so much." The bartender told him. "I can't understand half of whit yer sayin."

"Allow me." Someone behind him said. A woman, slightly shorter, though still probably the same age as the guy who talked to much, stepped up to the bar and took a seat. The girl had short, spiky blonde hair, and wore a red jacket that covered most of her body, with a pair of pistols strapped to her sides, and wore a pair of yellow sunglasses, which concealed her blue eyes. "He's asking for a pair of Diet Coke's if you have some. We're really thirsty." She said.

"Well ya just should've said that." He said, going off to get the drinks.

"Daniel, why do you have to talk like that all the time?" The girl asked the boy.

"I don't talk like that all the time, I'll have you know. It is simply my way of dealing with the many types of stressful situations, such as avoiding death by getting eaten by things bigger than us, evading bullets, or in today's case, starving from dehydration. Everyone has their own way of dealing with stress, some take to drinking, you get all moody, and I simply use big words." He said, sitting beside her, and sitting his cross next to him.

"Do you have ter deal with this, all the time?" The bartender asked, coming back with their drinks.

Both of them grabbed their drinks faster than it would take to blink, and downed them in five seconds, before gasping for air, and putting them back on the counter to be refilled.

"Ah! Much better!" She said. "And actually I do have to put up with this walking encyclopedia, on a regular basis."

"Like your any better? You've almost gotten killed us 37 times by now." Daniel said.

"35. That time in New September doesn't count, and you now it." The girl told him.

"Bartender, may we have another round please, we're still a bit parched." Daniel said.

"So I take it yer' a holy man?" The bartender asked, eyeing the boy's cross.

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm atheist, I figure we're already burning in Hell. Actually, that is what I prefer to call my 'Tools of the Trade', but let's keep it at that."

"Alright, do ya mind if'n I ask yer', why two kids like you 're coming into a place like this?" The bartender asked.

"Oh that's a long story, but to cut to the chase--"

"We're looking for Vash the Stampede." The girl said.

The bar was quiet, but you could tell that everyone in their had stopped what they were doing, and were listening to their conversation.

"We intend to hunt him down, and make him pay for what he has done, by stripping him naked, and publicly humiliating him." The girl continued.

The patrons of the bar went back to what they were doing, quickly losing interest their conversation.

"Excuse my friend, she's a little, shall we say, insane." Daniel said. "Anyway, before we get to business, I'd like that we get properly introduced. My name is Daniel D. Wolfwood, and my friend is Rem T. Stryfe. As a matter of fact, we are looking for Vash, we are trying to learn what he really is like. While he is widely regarded as the 'Devil's Helper', 'The scourge of Humanity', and 'The only known Living Natural Disaster', there are actually few settlements that view Vash as a good man instead." Daniel explained.

"I ain't here to listen to any of yer--"

"Seriously, any information would be useful." Rem said.

"Here's yer drinks." The bartender, giving them two cold glasses of Diet Coke. The two of them grabbed the glasses, and downed them in 10 seconds this time.

"We have been to places that have praised Vash the Stampede, Inepral City says that he fixed their Plant year's back, and Sky credits him for keeping the people alive long enough to found the City." Daniel continued.

"The same guy who has destroyed cities, killed thousands, and raped millions?" The bartender asked.

"You know, usually it's raped thousands, and killed millions, but basically yes." Rem said.

"Regardless, we want to know the truth, did he destroy July and October? Did he actually aid in the construction of Sky? This is what we want to know." Daniel said. "From our reports, he's supposed to look alot like Rem here, except Male, taller, he usually dresses in red, and has a distinct love of Donuts."

"Speaking of which, would you happen to have any Donuts on you menu?" Rem asked.

"Missy, you do understand this is a bar, right?" The bartender said said as though she really were crazy.

"Hey, I like Donuts, that is no crime." She said defensively.

"Well, since he is a famous gunman, our research says he usually only carries a six-shot pistol on him. Does that help?" Daniel continued.

The Bartender brought their third round of drinks, which they quickly drank.

"Well, if it helps, I did hear about a feller, some crazy Hobo in red, kept parading in the streets preaching about Donuts. Heard he had too much ter drink, an' he got locked up in the jail. I'd be careful though, they have some, unsavory-like characters holed up in there."

"Well thank-you, I wish the world was filled with more generous people such as you." Rem said. "May we have another round?"

"Sure, here you go." The bartender said, bringing another pair of drinks. They were both downed quickly, and then the two got up.

"Hey, aren't ya' forgettin' somethin'?" The man asked.

"What would that be?" Daniel asked.

"Pay."

"Oh my good man, I do apologize, but we are a quite short on money, so while we would be glad to pay you if we could, we unfortunately can't, and dear sir, we really must be on our way." Daniel said. He turned around to leave, before bumping into a man twice as big as he was, who then picked him up by his shirt, and turned him around to face the bartender.

"Boy, whit' did I tell yer about talkin' straight?" He said.

"We're broke." Rem said. "So are gonnna be clearing dishes, or serving drinks?"