I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

Jack Kerouac, excerpt taken from On the Road

It was a rust bucket of a car that Vicious had bought for seventy credits from a Syndicate car guy, one of the last few chop shop people in the whole galaxy. An old American car, spewing dust from it's rotted wheels and smelling of hobo piss and wine. Vicious ran a hand through his hair--more blonde than white back then. Spike sat beside him in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette and playing with the radio.

They had automatic pistols in their laps. Gifts from Mao Yenrai. Syndicate toys.

Spike rolled down his window and tapped ash into the street and then flicked the dead butt out into the gutter, where it hissed and died. Vicious looked at him. Vicious said, "You're nervous." A statement. Just like that.

Spike looked over and shrugged his shoulders under the thin jacket, splaying his hands out in front of him. They weren't shaking. "I look nervous?" he asked. A slow smile spread it's way across his face. Vicious didn't reciprocate. He said, "If you don't want to do this you don't have to. If we do this thing, all the...small-time stuff is done with forever. No more dime store heists or muscle jobs." He said the word 'small-time' with such disdain, like it were bile instead of speech coming out of his mouth. Spike reached into his jacket for another cigarette but there weren't any left.

Both were in their early twenties then. Vicious had just returned from Titan and to Spike he seemed so cold now. Like something had frozen his heart on that desert planet. Up until this point the two of them had done little but robberies and collections for Syndicate crooks. Small-time, like Vicious had said. But then Mao Yenrai comes to them in the pool hall and asks to see them out back, and he gives them guns and an address and says "Kill this man."

You don't say 'no' to Mao Yenrai. It'd be the last word you ever say to anyone.

So now they sit in the front seat of a rusty old car, listening to jazz on the radio. Nothing was showing on Vicious's face: nothing but a weird expression of constant dismay that'd been on his face ever since the homecoming. Spike hadn't asked questions about Titan and Vicious hadn't told any stories. It was an elephant in the room.

"Alright," Vicious said, and opened the door. "No more stalling."

He looked Spike in the eyes. Spike shivered.

Author's Note: I realize this chapter is short, but I wanted to get it posted before the idea left me. If I'm making any mistake with chronology--if Vicious went to Titan after the whole Spike and Julia thing, etc.--please let me know.

Thanks, please read and review, and I hope you enjoy.