This Is What We Do! (Quest)

[Vash]

One kills a man,
One is an assassin;
One kills millions,
One is a conqueror;
One kills everybody,
One is a god!

The bush is high, tall, and lush. Trees thick, sun shine trying to pour through the branches. No wind cuts through these woods, nor does a sword to make a path. A great hiding place it is, but when patrolling, you never know what might come out these thick woods. The brushing of bushes rubbing against another being is heard, followed by a crack of a stick. A group of soldiers, bending and breaking of the scrubs and grass, leaving a path behind them. Just a regular patrol it seems of five men.

The breathing slows...their grip tightens...their target locked! Vision blurs, yet clear around the target. The patrol contine in their close patch, guessing they could defend each other better this way. They stopped. Searching out in the distance. All is silent around them now. The pull goes on. Harder...harder...HARDER! Tight the string waits. The metal tip screams for its prey. The blood soon to spill, no one to know about it. All of the patrols eyes look, scanning through as much as their eyes could cut through.

No word. No signal. Whats the wait? Are they suppose to let these men go, live!? No. These men will die! Who will make the first move? Who? What is this? A man rises slowly from the tall grass that is behind the patrolling group. No blade he weilds in his hands. He steps forward...no noise made. The man continues, moving as silently as he can. All eyes from around him looks at him, still their hands stay in the same pointed direction. The movements is so smooth, so calm, so deadly it will come. Time was running out, the man is now behind his target. Patrol steps, he stepped, but his hands is reaching out towards a man.

His hands grabs one of the patrolling men's head, quickly cracking it, most loud and painful. The men is in his zone with that crack from the neck. Killing that man in such a way and hearing it just puts him in his killing mood. He continue to step with the patrol, eyes look around, not glancing fully behind them, they still think they have all their men. This man goes along with the patrol and the men do not notice it, poorly trained men they must have been.

His eyes widen, opening, and a smile cracking on his face. The steps begins to get louder and more fiercer by each step. A fist hits and breaks another patrolling man's jaw, he tumbles, knocked the fuck out, landing on a log. The other three men turned, but they are at a huge disadvantage with such a surprise. The ambushing man grabs one of the men swords, kicking the man while doing so. The sword thrusts right into the stomach of the poor man, bleeding him to death in minutes. The other two assume battle stance, holding their blades at the ready.

"Halt! Who are you!?"

The man didnt say a word, just standing there, holding the blade at ease with little to almost no care at all for the two men. Why should he tell this man his name? He will surely be dead and will not haunt this man what so ever. If he dies in vain, it will not be his problem. Blood begins to pool around the man he just stabbed. His blade covered in his own blood, dripping from off the tip of the sword that was taken from him. The patrol waited for a reply, nothing what so ever in return. Those metal tips, still in wait for the kill. Their target will die by their hands, not of their leader's.

"Vash..."

Their eyes open. Fear it seems of this man? The strings was already loosen. Those patrolling men began to move forward for a attack. Puft, puft! Hit, hit! Kill, kill! Two different tips got their wish. The men attack was halted, falling before Vash, choking and bleeding to death with arrows through their very necks. A good kill, painful one at that. The men rises from the bushes and behind the trees, running in towards the kills. Hunters stay at the lookout again, securing the area. Their leader drops the sword, turning around and walking towards the man that he punched.

"Four of you take their fear and put them on. Swap out your swords for theirs. There must be a camp nearby, it will be best if we look just like them."

Vash looked at the man, picking him up and throwing him up against a tree. Slapping him in the face a few times, wakes him up from that hard knocking punch that he got a few minutes ago. Fear strikes his heart, pain consumes his mind, death covers his thoughts. Through this man, Vash was speaking some words but he could not hear, his ears were ringing from being knocked out. Vash takes out the man's dagger, holding it up against his throating, threating him to give him the information. The patrolling man started to hear the man.

"I am going to ask you again! Where is your damn camp!"

"That way! That way! Please dont kill me!"

"You better be telling me the truth!"

"Yes! Its that way! I promise you! Just please dont kill me! I have a wife and a child!"

"Sounds like a personal problem!"

That dagger was pushed hard against the man's neck. Vash took to blade and started to just slowly cut the man. He cared nothing of the guy, nor his wife, nor his little child. Who knows, he just might rape and kill his wife and child one day. Something he just might do soon. He took the man's gear off and put it on himself. Grabbing the remaining men, they move up through the forest, five of them looking just like the patrol they killed.

Not long after, they overlooked the very camp they were told about. With trees, they truly can see the number of troops, types, and anyone in the area heading their way. So many plans Vash could carry out right now, but he will have a little fun with these men first hand. A trap, ambush, and raid. Sounds like much, but for real true bandits, its just another day, another kill, another gold coin.


The Camp;