Immortal Part II
By Lucifiel
Disclaimer: Meh. This is old.
Vicious looked at his gas gauge and snarled a curse. Hopefully Spike's kidnappers planned to stop sometime soon, else Vicious might have to tail them on foot. Not that he minded, but it might make things a little more difficult for him.
Lucky for Vicious the car stopped outside a rather ugly little office building. It took him only a moment to realize that the building happened to be one of the Tiger's shitty bases of operations. "Real high class shit."
He backed up and parked behind a large ship, then exited the car and focused on his targets. The grunts got out first, making sure the surrounding area was secure before motioning Slater out.
Vicious stifled his growl when Slater emerged, supporting the unconscious form of Spike. His partner's wound had been bandaged, and they had no doubt administered some sedatives to the young gangster. Spike wouldn't have fainted of his own accord. He was too tough for that.
Seconds later Vicious found himself rejoicing that he had parked so far away, because his cell phone rang. "Shit…" Vicious fumbled in his duster and pulled out the sleek little phone, "What?"
"Vicious, don't shout. Where are you two? Slater should have picked you up by now."
Vicious backtracked, "Mao. Yes Sir, he was supposed to. However, only Spike received the pleasure of his company."
A pause, "Tell me what has happened, Vicious."
"Slater took Spike. He's a double agent."
"Only Spike? Are you hurt?" Confusion, which was understandable. Normally a Syndicate boss would have killed him, not let him live.
"It's nothing. I'm trailing Slater right now. The prick's probably one of their lawyers. He just took Spike into the Tiger's base. And what a base."
"I want him out of there."
"I'll get you back your Golden Boy, Mao." He hung up.
A quick sweep of the perimeter, and Vicious was able to deduce that there were guards at every window, door, and eve a few on the roof. He had only half a clip left and no silencer, along with his knives. "Definitely a lawyer."
Syndicate lawyers were given special privileges such as the use of facilities, grunts, and weapons if they needed them, seeing as how they were the ones who got the Syndicate off with no more than a slap on the wrist most of the time. It sickened Vicious. He avoided lawyers like the plague; he'd never been in court. Just as well. It sounded boring.
Infiltration was his only option. Thank God most of the Tigers wear those ridiculous masks…
Vicious waited until a stray guard wandered too far, then pounced, slitting his throat with cool precision. He stripped the man of his clothing and put it on, fastening the mask in place. That done, he hid the body and continued on the man's patrol.
A mechanical voice sounded in his pocket, "Is anything wrong? Report!"
He searched and found the little matching earpiece/mouthpiece set that was standard for the guards and replied back, "No problems. All clear," in the best guard voice he could muster.
"Carry on."
He let out a breath and continue walking, passing the front guards, who let him in without question. Just how stupid were the grunts working for the Tigers, anyway? Christ. Amateurs.
Where was Spike? Probably on the top floor. Idiots like Slater enjoyed being high up. Made them feel important. Even though they weren't.
"Fucking Spike…"
------
He didn't know how long he'd been out. The last thing he remembered was telling Vicious that he would be okay. Everything had gone dark shortly after that. They must have drugged him, the dirty bastards.
Fucking Slater. Fucking Tigers. Fucking drugs. I might as well still be out 'cause I can't fuckin' move!!!
Spike had been creeped out by Slater when they had first met a while ago. Partially because the man eyes Spike like he was a piece of fresh meat, and partially because the man wasn't genuine; as he and Vicious had found out too late. Vicious…
I'm never gonna hear the end of it if I get out of here…
He opened his eyes. The room was dimly lit by a few candles. The wafting spicy smell of sandalwood incense touched his nostrils. Oh man…where the Hell am I? Bad.
Worse, he found that the reason he was unable to move was attributed to the fact that his wrists were handcuffed above him. Fuck!! He was lying on a soft bed under soft sheets, naked but for the bandage on his collarbone. Soon he found that his feet were tied apart, under the sheets. A gag was fastened over and in his mouth, preventing speech.
Vicious, if ever there was a time for you to bust in here and kick some ass, now would be that time…
The door opened and Spike glanced over, hopeful…but it was Slater. What he wouldn't give for his gun at the moment…
"Now, now, Spike. Don't look so hostile. It's precisely because you always put on that ferocious exterior that we had to subdue you. Now just be quiet and everything will be fine." Slater moved toward him, starting to shed the robe he wore.
Aw, Hell!! You can't be serious…put your damn clothes back on!! Spike twisted his wrists furiously…he should have listened to Vicious when the man had tried to teach him how to get out of handcuffs!
"It's useless, Spike." Slater loomed over him. Spike's eye twitched.
Slater threw the sheets aside and eased himself over Spike, stroking his cheek. "There now, Spike…calm yourself. No doubt Vicious did come for you. He is most likely dead. No one could break into this base and come out alive. Especially with his injuries. Hmm…it's not nice to scowl, my dear. Or are you afraid for him?" Slater removed the gag from Spike's mouth and kissed him before the younger man could protest.
Shit…Vicious, c'mon… Spike squeezed his eyes shut and prepared to bite the bastard's tongue off should he try to insert it. Instead, Slater's hand traveled down Spike's side and rested on the inside of his thigh. "You're perfect, do you know that? So beautiful…"
"Fuck you…Vicious is gonna put a new hole in your head." Spike was quite glad that the gag was gone. But his situation hadn't improved. "Let me up you ass-raping son of a bitch!"
"Don't make me gag that pretty mouth again," Slater's hand slipped lower, and a finger was inserted into his opening, probing him.
"What the HELL!?" Spike squirmed, flushing, "Stop, fucker!!" It hurt, too. It was a different kind of pain than he was used to. Slater added another finger coated in a slippery substance and stretched him, inducing another small cry from Spike.
Vicious…
The door was kicked open and a guard entered, bleeding and covered in gashes. Slater turned and snarled, "I thought I said I didn't want to be disturbed!! Even if that fool Vicious is attacking! That's what you're paid for, right? Fuck, can't do anything right…is he dead yet? Did he even fight?"
Spike wished he could vanish. The bastard was still stretching him, with three fingers now. He threw his head back and clenched his teeth against another cry. Tears gathered at the edges of his eyes…he hadn't cried in years…
"He fought," the guard spoke, "He won." Spike froze. So did Slater. The guard removed his mask, revealing silver-white hair and pair of the fiercest eyes Spike had ever seen.
Slater gasped and scrambled away from Spike. He was dead in another second, shot in the head by Vicious's spare gun.
Spike turned his face away, "How about untying me, asshole? What took you?"
Vicious cut Spike's feet free and picked the handcuff's lock. He wiped Spike tear away, "Are you hurt?"
"…not much…" He got up slowly, like a lethargic cat, and wrapped the bed sheet around his torso. "Encounter much resistance?"
"A little sit down, idiot. I'll find you some clothes." Vicious shoved Spike into a sitting position on the bed and rooted around. "Hm…bad taste…"
"Did Mao get word of this?"
Vicious ignored the question and looked in the closet. He made a small, appreciative sound. Italian suits. In Spike's size. Which meant they'd be nearly perfect for him, too. "Ch. He must have wanted to keep you a while." He grabbed a grey suit that sported a long white scarf, reaching out to touch the fabric, feeling its soft texture.
"Put it on already." Spike's voice right by his ear. Vicious refused to jump, and took the suit. "I want this one…" Spike selected a blue suit with a high collar and a yellow undershirt. It looked ridiculous, but he loved it, looking at himself in the mirrors and acting like some five year old.
Vicious took a quick shower before adorning his suit, turning the water to hot and letting his gashes burn. He looked amazing in it. The color brought out his eyes, making them even fiercer.
"Daaaamn. Lookin' good, Vicious!" Spike nudged him, grinning. A hollow grin. Vicious raised an eyebrow at him.
"Are you really all right?"
"My ass hurts, but--"
"That prick raped you?!" Vicious whirled, teeth bared.
Spike wiggled his fingers, "Just with these."
A tiny sigh of relief, then anger again. He almost wished Slater was alive so he could kill him again. Vicious frowned over at Spike, who retained the grin, but dug nervously at the carpet with his ridiculous shoes.
"Come on, don't look at me like that," Spike nudged him, "I'll be okay. Just give me a minute."
"Shit like that won't leave you."
"Eh?"
"You'll always remember the helplessness you felt, the pain, and the horror, thinking that no one is coming for you."
"But you came."
"Given the right amount of time he could have made you doubt that. You'll never forget, so don't waste time trying."
"Hmph. Some big help you are, fucker." Spike grumbled and shuffled around some more, then asked, "Hey, did you kill everyone?"
"Yeah."
"Fuck yeah! You're the man, Vicious!"
"I suppose I am, yes."
To Be Continued…