I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't understand why or how, but I was still alive. Even the pool of my own blood was cold. I couldn't move my arms, and simply breathing grew harder and harder. The Jericho's bullet pierced sharply into my chest. I could even feel the hole it drilled through me. Filling up with blood, then empting out on the floor. It continued on with this vicious cycle.
Vicious. Poor word choice. I would have never thought that word could make me smile. That was even harder to believe, the fact that I was smiling. Not a twisted or sick smile, but a smile-smile. Something was funny. What could be so funny? The fact that I lost? The fact that Julia was gone? Maybe just that I could use that word, not as a name. What was my name? I can't remember any more. That was too long ago. So long since I had become Vicious. So long since...
"Bang." There was a thud. I wasn't sure what it was at first. I tryed to sort through my mind, wondering if I had even heard it. But, I knew I had. It was Spike. What else could it be? Who else said that? I knew he had fallen, too. I wondered if he was smiling. He was. Of course he was. That was the last thing I'd ever hear him say. And I was glad. It was better than what he had said before. "Julia is dead. Let's finish this." He was so blunt. So cold. So....vicious.
There it was again. Why was I using that word so much? Maybe just because I was dead. I didn't know if I was dead or not. Maybe I was dead. Maybe my soul was just dreaming. Watching the events that surrounded my death. I could hear them, though. I must have been alive. I felt alive. Just barely, but I did feel alive. The voices. The members of the syndicate had gathered around to look at us. They were saying something about the blood. Hadn't they seen blood before? Then again, we had spilt alot of it. If I could've made a noise, some sort of sound, they would have rushed to me. They would save me. But, what would the point be? Maybe I didn't need to be alive. Maybe I was supposed to die. This could be the price I pay for living the way I did. Living so...well, you know. Then I heard the voices again. They were closer. Hovering around me. What were they saying? The blood again.
"We can get get him out of here. We have to." They were saving me. Why would they want to save me? I suppose everything I had said really got to them. The syndicate didn't need weaklings. I knew that, but I still didn't want to go on. Did I really want to lead the syndicate? Or was it just some plot to get Spike? Whatever the reason, they did look up to me. They did respect me as a leader. My ideals had sparked them to rebel against the Van. Then in one fatal swoop, we had overcome them. We had come together to overthrow those old fools. So stuborn. They never wanted to give up their old-fasioned ways. I was glad they were gone. The voices were talking again. What now? It was about me again. They weren't sure if I'd make it. "Its bad, though. He's hurt bad. Look at that wound." Oh no. They weren't thinking it, were they? "He's bleeding everywhere. That bullet hole is so bad." I knew I could speak. "So deep. So..."
"Er...uh..." I coughed, feeling the blood pour out of my lips. "...so...vicious."