{Thanks for the reviews all. ^-^ I have some sort of kooky sympathy for Vicious. Sue me. ^^;}
~*~
Vicious arrived at Gren's house. It was rather late; the sky was lit up with scattered stars, and the moon, full and round, only illuminated his paled features as he raised his bony fist to knock on the door. He hesitated only an inch from the door, remembering something uneasily. Yes, he had killed Gren. And Spike Spiegal was there, too. And, with an uneasy twitch, he recalled what he had told his former "comrade".
-There is nothing left in this world to believe in.-
He blinked once or twice as if in a state of deep thought, but really, that phrase seemed to repeat itself over and over again inside his head. Nothing left. Whether he was there for a minute, two, or perhaps three, it seemed like an eternity to the man. The moon shifted. As his eyes reflected the pale moonlight creating a strange, duo shine effect on the steel door, he realized that he must've been there for at least fifteen minutes. He lowered his hand and opened the door.
Vicious glanced around the empty house. It was warm and had the smell of something that had not been used for a long time. He seemed to notice everything these days--a blade of grass out of place, a rat scurrying across the street. His senses seemed to become more acute. Maybe it was paranoia. Then again, Vicious, the leader of the late Red Dragon syndicate, was never paranoid.
Then again. . .
Mentally shaking himself for standing too still like an idiot, he took a few steps forward, still glacing around to see if the music box was in plain view. Instantly, he spotted the trinket standing in solitude upon the ironwood edge of the piano. In three long strides, he had crossed the room and picked up the box. He stared at it in silent contemplation, then placed it in his pocket. In the same three strides, he exited the room and was outside of the room, cold and alone in the dead streets of Blue Saturn.
Ok, now he seriously had nowhere to go.
=^x_x^=
Spike Spiegal was finally treated. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, he walked out of the hospital, hands in pockets and a dead look on his face. Not really DEAD, just. . .well. . .certainly not jovial, anyway. He allowed a car to pass before crossing the damp streets of Mars. How did he end up in the hospital? With a last fading memory, before he fell to the ground, he recalled police cars and the ISSP. Maybe someone called a medical center, Maybe it was Julia.
Heck, it was better then someone calling for Vicious, anyway.
But still, there was the most miniscule possibility that someone had called for Vicious. Then again, Spike new more people. He smirked halfheartedly. Normally, Spike didn't care about popularity. He had vowed never to care about what others thought, never to shed a tear again. It wasn't really a VOW, more of a cessation to feel. Yet he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of smug with the knowledge that he was more popular then his so-called "friend".
Even with his newfound feeling of. . .whatever it was. . .there was hardly a skip in his step. He mentally cursed himself out for not asking about Julia.
He recalled blood running through his hands, he recalled her laying in his blood-soaked arms. When he had met her at the graveyard a while back, it was as if the missing piece of him had returned. He had seen a slice, a bare glimpse of paradise as they embraced on that rainy day. He remembered his first smile in a long time fighting its way to his lips.
Spike Spiegal never once denied Vicious's betrayal. Not once. But was it really Vicious's betrayal that bothered him, deep inside. . .?
Or was it his own?
=^x_x^=
"There is a call trying to recieve us from Mars, Jet-person~!" bellowed Radical Edward, her arms wiggling strangely as her hacket glasses reflected static.
Radical Edward was back on the Bebop along with the Welsh Corgy, Ein. She had taken off to search for her father on Earth a while ago, but returned. Turned out that Ed's father was arrested for "disturbing the peace," or something similar. She wasn't affected too much, at least on the outside. So she returned to the Bebop, forcing it onto Earth with a control. Her strange, lopsided grin still remained.
Jet poked his head out from the kitchen, where a pleasant smell wafted into the main quarters, alluring to all who noticed and gesturing to pasengers in a come-hither motion. His mouth was shaped into a confused, tiny "o" and one brow -- specifically, the eye with the scar tracing it. He shook his ladle in Ed's direction.
"I'm busy, Ed. Tell 'em to call back later." His apron, reading "Kiss the Cook," smelled like food. Ed sniffed for a second before her eyes returned to the screen.
"Codename. . .Swimming Bird." said Ed in a mock-mysterious voice. Jet's eyes widened. He put the ladle down and walked to Ed, crouching down to her sitting position.
"Accept the call, Ed."
The fuzzy image of Swimming Bird appeared on the screen, exactly how the Bebop crew remembered it: the same fuzzy, untidy hair, the same mysterious mismatched eyes, the same cool face. Jet smiled, albeit a grin was fighting tooth and nail to reach his face.
"Hey Jet." replied Spike nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened and Spike was simply . . .away.
"Spike!" Jet exclaimed, his throaty voice jovial and relieved. "Great to see you again."
"Yeah, just peachy." replied the fellow crew member. "Pick me up, will ya?"
"Yeah, sure." Jet nodded. Ed began to type vigorously, transmitting Spike's coordinates onto the thin laptop with floating, grinning faces.
"Coordinates of Spike-person have been recieved, captain~!" Ed bellowed once more, grinning foolishly with Ein sitting in her lap.
Faye watched from the yellow sofa, drinking from a bottle of orange juice. One eyebrow was raised, even as her lips were still curled around the mouth of the bottle. She squinted in vain as the picture of Spike Spiegal disappeared. Jet stood up after a moment's hesitation and headed back into the kitchen.
"Hey Jet," Faye suddenly shouted, "what's for dinner?"
"Bell peppers and beef."
THEY SAY HUNGER IS THE BEST SPICE. . .
~*~
{W00t. XD Uhm, and again, thanks for the reviews. Warning for all of you, i'm not exactly a big fan of Spike/Faye....gomen. In the future, I might do an F/S, but this is not the future, so, uhm, gomen. ^^;}
~*~
Vicious arrived at Gren's house. It was rather late; the sky was lit up with scattered stars, and the moon, full and round, only illuminated his paled features as he raised his bony fist to knock on the door. He hesitated only an inch from the door, remembering something uneasily. Yes, he had killed Gren. And Spike Spiegal was there, too. And, with an uneasy twitch, he recalled what he had told his former "comrade".
-There is nothing left in this world to believe in.-
He blinked once or twice as if in a state of deep thought, but really, that phrase seemed to repeat itself over and over again inside his head. Nothing left. Whether he was there for a minute, two, or perhaps three, it seemed like an eternity to the man. The moon shifted. As his eyes reflected the pale moonlight creating a strange, duo shine effect on the steel door, he realized that he must've been there for at least fifteen minutes. He lowered his hand and opened the door.
Vicious glanced around the empty house. It was warm and had the smell of something that had not been used for a long time. He seemed to notice everything these days--a blade of grass out of place, a rat scurrying across the street. His senses seemed to become more acute. Maybe it was paranoia. Then again, Vicious, the leader of the late Red Dragon syndicate, was never paranoid.
Then again. . .
Mentally shaking himself for standing too still like an idiot, he took a few steps forward, still glacing around to see if the music box was in plain view. Instantly, he spotted the trinket standing in solitude upon the ironwood edge of the piano. In three long strides, he had crossed the room and picked up the box. He stared at it in silent contemplation, then placed it in his pocket. In the same three strides, he exited the room and was outside of the room, cold and alone in the dead streets of Blue Saturn.
Ok, now he seriously had nowhere to go.
=^x_x^=
Spike Spiegal was finally treated. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, he walked out of the hospital, hands in pockets and a dead look on his face. Not really DEAD, just. . .well. . .certainly not jovial, anyway. He allowed a car to pass before crossing the damp streets of Mars. How did he end up in the hospital? With a last fading memory, before he fell to the ground, he recalled police cars and the ISSP. Maybe someone called a medical center, Maybe it was Julia.
Heck, it was better then someone calling for Vicious, anyway.
But still, there was the most miniscule possibility that someone had called for Vicious. Then again, Spike new more people. He smirked halfheartedly. Normally, Spike didn't care about popularity. He had vowed never to care about what others thought, never to shed a tear again. It wasn't really a VOW, more of a cessation to feel. Yet he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of smug with the knowledge that he was more popular then his so-called "friend".
Even with his newfound feeling of. . .whatever it was. . .there was hardly a skip in his step. He mentally cursed himself out for not asking about Julia.
He recalled blood running through his hands, he recalled her laying in his blood-soaked arms. When he had met her at the graveyard a while back, it was as if the missing piece of him had returned. He had seen a slice, a bare glimpse of paradise as they embraced on that rainy day. He remembered his first smile in a long time fighting its way to his lips.
Spike Spiegal never once denied Vicious's betrayal. Not once. But was it really Vicious's betrayal that bothered him, deep inside. . .?
Or was it his own?
=^x_x^=
"There is a call trying to recieve us from Mars, Jet-person~!" bellowed Radical Edward, her arms wiggling strangely as her hacket glasses reflected static.
Radical Edward was back on the Bebop along with the Welsh Corgy, Ein. She had taken off to search for her father on Earth a while ago, but returned. Turned out that Ed's father was arrested for "disturbing the peace," or something similar. She wasn't affected too much, at least on the outside. So she returned to the Bebop, forcing it onto Earth with a control. Her strange, lopsided grin still remained.
Jet poked his head out from the kitchen, where a pleasant smell wafted into the main quarters, alluring to all who noticed and gesturing to pasengers in a come-hither motion. His mouth was shaped into a confused, tiny "o" and one brow -- specifically, the eye with the scar tracing it. He shook his ladle in Ed's direction.
"I'm busy, Ed. Tell 'em to call back later." His apron, reading "Kiss the Cook," smelled like food. Ed sniffed for a second before her eyes returned to the screen.
"Codename. . .Swimming Bird." said Ed in a mock-mysterious voice. Jet's eyes widened. He put the ladle down and walked to Ed, crouching down to her sitting position.
"Accept the call, Ed."
The fuzzy image of Swimming Bird appeared on the screen, exactly how the Bebop crew remembered it: the same fuzzy, untidy hair, the same mysterious mismatched eyes, the same cool face. Jet smiled, albeit a grin was fighting tooth and nail to reach his face.
"Hey Jet." replied Spike nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened and Spike was simply . . .away.
"Spike!" Jet exclaimed, his throaty voice jovial and relieved. "Great to see you again."
"Yeah, just peachy." replied the fellow crew member. "Pick me up, will ya?"
"Yeah, sure." Jet nodded. Ed began to type vigorously, transmitting Spike's coordinates onto the thin laptop with floating, grinning faces.
"Coordinates of Spike-person have been recieved, captain~!" Ed bellowed once more, grinning foolishly with Ein sitting in her lap.
Faye watched from the yellow sofa, drinking from a bottle of orange juice. One eyebrow was raised, even as her lips were still curled around the mouth of the bottle. She squinted in vain as the picture of Spike Spiegal disappeared. Jet stood up after a moment's hesitation and headed back into the kitchen.
"Hey Jet," Faye suddenly shouted, "what's for dinner?"
"Bell peppers and beef."
THEY SAY HUNGER IS THE BEST SPICE. . .
~*~
{W00t. XD Uhm, and again, thanks for the reviews. Warning for all of you, i'm not exactly a big fan of Spike/Faye....gomen. In the future, I might do an F/S, but this is not the future, so, uhm, gomen. ^^;}