Hello out here again! WOW! People actually read my junk! That's amazing!
Seriously, I was expecting somebody to use my story to practice their
flaming vocabulary! I'm so happy that you guys didn't! So yah, thanks to
all the people who reviewed! My chapters on this story are pretty short,
about 2 paragraphs per chapter. But there are about 9 chapters in the
entire story! So here's hoping that you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters!
About 15 minutes later, Vicious was at his apartment. It was a cruddy little place that he'd been assigned to so his boss could stay in contact. It was also the best that he could afford at the pitiful wages that he got for his services. The plumbing sucked, the heat didn't work half the time, and the place had roaches and mice forever crawling across the floor and through the walls. However, Vicious didn't require anything more then a bed to sleep in and money to buy food. Also, as he'd said in his Red Dragon days "cold climates did not disturb him". (LibaD2000: Sorry, I just had to add that in! ^^) He went over to his tiny refrigerator, pulled out some left-over take out food, and turned on his TV. Did I mention that the TV reception sucked too? On every channel, even though he only got 3, news reporters were broadcasting about the mysterious shooting at the park. Vicious smiled at himself, he was a true master. But did anyone else know? No. That stupid fight 2 years ago had sealed his fate. He flipped off the TV and threw away his take out, having lost his appetite. He went over to his bed, a mere 5 steps away, to get ready to go to sleep. He took off his jacket, one of his only souvenirs from the Red Dragons, and hung it up in a tiny closet. He continued to strip off his upper-body layers and hung them up in the closet too. By now, he only had his pants and shoes left. He turned off the lights and kicked off his shoes. As he sat on his bed, a car passed below on the street. For a few brief moments, his room was completely illuminated. In the light, you could clearly see a circular scar on the front part of his shoulder where Spike had shot him. On the back side, you could see where the bullet had gone all the way through his shoulder, leaving a bigger scar there.
Vicious had survived his confrontation with Spike only because Spike wasn't as good of a shot as he used to be. Instead of through the heart, Vicious had been shot through the shoulder. As the bullet had gone through, it had messed up most of the muscles and tendons in his shoulder. Now, Vicious didn't have near the range of movement that he had once had with the arm and he could barely use his Katana. This was why he was here instead of back with the Red Dragons. His pride wouldn't let him go back to them a broken man. He had once been their leader and now look at him, reduced to a cheap assassin! He was disgraced; Spike had disgraced him the son of a bitch. Vicious reached up and massaged his shoulder, even when he wasn't using his arm, it bugged him. He looked over in the corner of the room and you could just see the outline of his Katana, collecting dust from just sitting there. Every day Vicious prayed that he would see Spike again so that he could pay him back for everything that had happened to him. Vicious laid down on his bed, got under the covers, and slipped into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.
This chapter was even shorter! This is cwazy! It was 2 pages on paper!!!! But whatever. So, did you like it? I hope you did! But if you didn't, you can always practice flame vocabulary, but I hope that you won't! ^.^ Anywho, I gotta go! Next chapter coming soon! Actually, this is my last chapter that I'm going to put up for awhile. To find out why, check my bio!
Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters!
About 15 minutes later, Vicious was at his apartment. It was a cruddy little place that he'd been assigned to so his boss could stay in contact. It was also the best that he could afford at the pitiful wages that he got for his services. The plumbing sucked, the heat didn't work half the time, and the place had roaches and mice forever crawling across the floor and through the walls. However, Vicious didn't require anything more then a bed to sleep in and money to buy food. Also, as he'd said in his Red Dragon days "cold climates did not disturb him". (LibaD2000: Sorry, I just had to add that in! ^^) He went over to his tiny refrigerator, pulled out some left-over take out food, and turned on his TV. Did I mention that the TV reception sucked too? On every channel, even though he only got 3, news reporters were broadcasting about the mysterious shooting at the park. Vicious smiled at himself, he was a true master. But did anyone else know? No. That stupid fight 2 years ago had sealed his fate. He flipped off the TV and threw away his take out, having lost his appetite. He went over to his bed, a mere 5 steps away, to get ready to go to sleep. He took off his jacket, one of his only souvenirs from the Red Dragons, and hung it up in a tiny closet. He continued to strip off his upper-body layers and hung them up in the closet too. By now, he only had his pants and shoes left. He turned off the lights and kicked off his shoes. As he sat on his bed, a car passed below on the street. For a few brief moments, his room was completely illuminated. In the light, you could clearly see a circular scar on the front part of his shoulder where Spike had shot him. On the back side, you could see where the bullet had gone all the way through his shoulder, leaving a bigger scar there.
Vicious had survived his confrontation with Spike only because Spike wasn't as good of a shot as he used to be. Instead of through the heart, Vicious had been shot through the shoulder. As the bullet had gone through, it had messed up most of the muscles and tendons in his shoulder. Now, Vicious didn't have near the range of movement that he had once had with the arm and he could barely use his Katana. This was why he was here instead of back with the Red Dragons. His pride wouldn't let him go back to them a broken man. He had once been their leader and now look at him, reduced to a cheap assassin! He was disgraced; Spike had disgraced him the son of a bitch. Vicious reached up and massaged his shoulder, even when he wasn't using his arm, it bugged him. He looked over in the corner of the room and you could just see the outline of his Katana, collecting dust from just sitting there. Every day Vicious prayed that he would see Spike again so that he could pay him back for everything that had happened to him. Vicious laid down on his bed, got under the covers, and slipped into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.
This chapter was even shorter! This is cwazy! It was 2 pages on paper!!!! But whatever. So, did you like it? I hope you did! But if you didn't, you can always practice flame vocabulary, but I hope that you won't! ^.^ Anywho, I gotta go! Next chapter coming soon! Actually, this is my last chapter that I'm going to put up for awhile. To find out why, check my bio!