Author's Note:
I had Steve Conte's vocal version of "Rain" on constant loop during the entire duration of writing this scene. Steve Conte, for those of you who haven't heard (or those of you who've forgotten), is the lovely male vocalist who rerecorded Yoko Kanno's original version, in addition to "Words That We Couldn't Say," and "Call Me, Call Me." "Rain" is the most perfect of depressing songs, and suits this scene incredibly well. If you can stand it…I'd suggest putting it on loop until this chapter is over.
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The voice belonged to a hot, angry, bicolored brown gaze, burning from the opposite end of the room. The Cowboy had terrible timing…
"Julia is dead." Spike spat the words through lips twisted with rage.
If he expected to garner any kind of reaction from the silver dragon, he was deluding himself.
Casual replies dropped from Vicious' lips, further enraging the already internally seething man. You poor bastard, Vicious spared him pity even in his black hole of numbing cold, you were sure I did the things I did because I loved her. Because I was jealous of you.
Poor, delusional bastard. I may have been jealous, but it wasn't because I loved Julia.
He realized with a start that he really didn't want to kill Spike. Now that Julia was gone, there was no reason for it. Perhaps he hated the bounty hunter still…but it was an aching hatred that he could live with-for however long he lived. God knew he'd already spent half his life consumed by it. What were a few more hours?
Spike went for his sidearm, then, and any option of sparing his life faded away. The challenge of battle had been denied him for so long…and this was a match between equals. To that effect, neither cared for his own life…or the life of his opponent.
Another fascinating, too-wide, too-gleeful smirk slid along his lips.
This promised to be interesting.
-
Here we are again.
Spike glared down the length of Vicious' katana, as the bullet lodged in his side reminded him that he was running out of time.
Here we are again. Julia is dead. Neither one of us can have her now. And so we're beating each other to death because of it.
Vicious, however, seemed coldly detached from the entire situation. Spike allowed his gaze to find the silver-haired soldier's eyes for a breath or two.
I think you want me to kill you!
Brown eyes narrowed. His grip on the revolver tightened, resolve final.
Good. That's one request I can easily grant you.
Just do me the same honor.
That's all I ask.
-
The pair circled one another; angry lions, each sizing the other up before landing the first blows. Vicious was as yet unscathed, but in a match of weapons, his blade could not hope to deflect a bullet from the Cowboy's pistol. Spike smirked. And struck.
-
Gren heard the uproar from the Syndicate compound even two blocks away. "What the hell…?" He ducked his head and dashed the last five hundred feet to the tower. His presence went entirely unnoticed, due to the chaos descending from above.
-
"Hi, boys. Looking for a good time…?" Jet smirked as Faye's sultry voice crackled over the Hammerhead's radio from her position near the compound's main entrance. Several very pissed individuals crouched just inside the double doors, weapons trained on the Swordfish. Spike's Swordfish. She rained a torrent of gunfire down on them, and they retaliated. The ship rocked.
"JET!"
Faye had given up on stubborn will and shot off to Mars in search of the Cowboy, while cursing everything from his tight little ass to his dubious parentage. She swept over the colony, and found Spike's abandoned ship not too far from the Red Dragon Syndicate, nestled skillfully in an alcove to avoid blocking traffic.
So skillfully hidden that Faye bashed several innocent vehicles while stealing it. She suspected that he'd gone off after Vicious…hadn't Julia mentioned something about that…? The Swordfish was equipped with better-quality weapons, and she'd need stronger firepower than the guns strapped to her pod if she planned to go in after him.
Once I save you, you arrogant jackass, you'd better damn well be grateful for once!
Jet could practically read the woman's thoughts. He shook his head, smiling sadly. Women.
"I hope you don't expect Spike to be happy that you're crashing his party, Faye."
"He's going to kill himself, Jet!"
Jet growled and grabbed for his communicator. "You think I don't know that?!"
The Hammerhead dropped down in front of Faye's stolen craft and opened fire on the entrance amid blinding flares of orange and yellow from the burning propellant. The main doors suddenly became much wider. Faye leaned forward eagerly over the Swordfish's controls.
"Ram it! Jet, RAM it!"
"You women are all the same. Just get it over with as fast as possible, so you can do something else." Jet grumbled to himself, and gunned the Hammerhead's twin engines. The massive nose ground into the shot-riddled doors, the bear of a pilot flung onto his metal arm against the console with the force of the blow.
If anyone was left to protest their uninvited entrance, they wisely decided not to interfere.
-
A smile played across Gren's lips despite his anxiety. Faye.
But wait a minute...why does she have Spike's...?
"Oh...oh my God..."
He bolted for a side door, and flung himself into an empty emergency stairwell, fingers clutching the railing in the pitch darkness to avoid falling to his death.
Cheapasses. They could have at least installed lights in here.
-
"Elevator's broken. Must've happened in the blast."
"God damnit!" Faye bashed her fist against the smooth metal surface in an outburst of frustrated anger.
Jet watched her for a second, then glanced over her head. The far wall came into focus. He snatched the woman's arm and dragged her after him.
"What the hell…?!" Faye squirmed. Jet tightened his grip as they ran.
"Stairway!"
-
Gren registered footsteps behind him as he rounded another bend in the staircase and flung his body up yet another flight. His breath was coming in sharp gasps now, as the tenth floor exit passed. What did those bastards think they were doing, putting the main hall on the top floor?
His lungs were on fire. No more. He had to stop.
Tenth floor. Hopefully the elevator here would work. Gren shoved out of the stairwell and located one of the elevator shafts.
The door opened. The car inside looked invitingly safe. Behind him, the footsteps sounded again, and labored breathing. And arguing. Familiar voice...Faye?
"...and this is crazy, Jet! The elevators have to work somewhere..." The woman flung the door ajar and stood, ruby lips hanging unattractively slack as she stared at the man beside the elevator doors...the man whom she was sure had been dead—had been assured by Spike that he was dead. Jet piled out of the dark passage and jammed to a halt behind her, wincing as his leg protested fiercely to the mistreatment.
"Hello, Faye," Gren tilted his head with a heavily ironic smile, "going up?"
-
Meanwhile, the battle upstairs raged on. Vicious kept Spike moving too much to get off a good shot, and in desperation, he decided to give up on the weapon for the moment. He ducked another swipe from the katana and spun away, dropping to sweep his legs beneath the man's legs.
Vicious went down. Hard. "Ungh!" His temple struck the cold tiled floor.
More tiles, he thought sarcastically, and staggered to his feet, clenching the blade that miraculously had not gone sliding away across the floor when he landed.
Spike leveled the muzzle of his revolver at Vicious' forehead. They stood far enough apart now that he didn't have to worry about the katana.
But only for a few brief seconds. Vicious gave a low growl and charged him, batting the pistol upwards with the edge of his sword as the shot cracked. Missed. Damn! Spike clutched his sleeve against a new fount of blood welling through the cloth. The katana had tracked down and caught him across the forearm. His weapon arm. Damndamndamn...
One shot would bring down the beast...could he get it off before he fell?
Vicious leered at him, and lunged, the razor-sharp blade reaching for his heart.
Pierced the jacket and drove home, even as Spike forced the ruined muscles of his lower arm to drag the gun up for one last shot...squeezed the trigger.
Fire exploded behind his eyes even as it flared in response to the thunderclap of the revolver. The whole world bucked crazily under his feet, and dumped Vicious rudely on his back against the tile.
Distantly, Vicious heard Spike's strangled groan as the katana came free of his shoulder and clattered with a metallic crash from nerveless fingers to the floor.
It was over...
His eyes closed as the sound of footsteps staggered away, and gave a shuddering breath. At last...it was over...