A Syndicate Life- accepted (chapter 2)
Once again, he walked down the crowded streets, this time, as far as he knew, alone, or at least, not being watched. Once again, he walked through the double doors. Once again, he walked up to the desk; this time, he got a surprise. Spike had never really been inside a syndicate, and didn't know what to expect, but this defiantly wasn't it. As soon as he reached what he assumed to be the service desk, bullets shattered the glass, and the body of the receptionist was lying in a pool of crimson. It didn't really sicken him, he just moved. And then, it was over. Five men ran after the shooter; jumping out of the windows, doors, whatever was closest. Another two picked up the woman, and took her, come to think of it he didn't know, so, somewhere. The same man from yesterday, he called himself Vicious, or so Spike thought, emerged from the shadows, and told him where to go.
Vicious glanced at his watch. "10:02. You're late."
The dirty green haired man simply raised his eyebrows, and gave his, crooked grin. "Then, if there are complaints, I'll be leaving." He turned, but did not move.
"Vicious. Keep him here," a deep voice spoke.
"Come with me," Vicious resumed, ignoring the orders, and walking towards the right side 3rd door. Spike, finding this man to be slightly amusing, gave in, and walked beside the other. The two walked, side by side, for a ways, down a long hallway. Tile. Spike's shoes made loud sounds, while Vicious kept quite the whole way, trained to be silent. After awhile, they reached the top floor, and proceeded to the farthest door down, on the very end. Vicious knocked, and upon hearing the, "Come on," went inside, closing the door after Spike. There was a man, sitting in one of those long, tall black chairs, hiding all your features, in front of a large computer. He looked like the big type, not one to play games.
"Mr. Spegial."
"Yeah?"
The man wheeled around quickly to face Spike. It proved to show a shadowy face, and hair, the color of Vicious', just not quite as long. A cynical smirk played his features well. "Mao. Mao Yenrai."
"Well, nice to meet you Mao. You have requested I come to work here?"
"Yes, yes. Would you be willing to do so?"
"Yeah. Yeah I would."
"Good."
"But why me?"
"Mr. Yenrai has an eye for people like you - us," Vicious intruded into the discussion.
"Yes, well, I know who is fit for the job," Mao took over again, "I don't want just anyone, who faints at the sight of blood."
"That COULD be a problem for someone in this line of work," Spike followed his lead and continued.
"Yes, and what do you consider this type of work to be, Mr. Spegial?"
"The dirty kind."
"You could say that," Vicious once again cut in.
Spike looked over at him. 'He could be a pretty good guy.'
As if reading his thoughts, Mao continued; "He can be a pretty good man sometimes, but he does have a problem. Can't seem to get enough blood. Homicide runs through his veins." Vicious remained silent to this remark.
"Seems like the type."
"He is."
"Am I?"
"Yes Vicious. And I think you know it, and honor it. But, enough chatter, you've got a job to do."
"Which one of us," Vicious asked.
"Both of you," Mao responded, the smirk once again finding it's way to his face.
"I work alone."
"So do I."
"Not for this mission boys. I need two people."
"What is it," Vicious spoke, already over the dislike, knowing he would not win.
"The jail downtown. We have some men down there, and we want them back. Also, the guard there. He used to work for us as well. That's how we got so many men arrested. He double-crossed us. Kill him."
"And how should we go about this one," Vicious asked once again, a look of anxiousness in his eyes
"However you find suitable."
"Do you want anyone else left alive?"
"That is not my business. Free them if you wish. Otherwise, it doesn't matter. None of them are syndicate material."
"Bombs," Spike cut in.
"Yes, Mr. Spegial. And how do you presume to do that, and get our men out, with it so heavily guarded?"
"I have my ways."
"As do I," Vicious said, obviously not afraid of this man, or what might anger him.
"Do as you can. Whatever you do, don't get caught. Vicious, you're my best man. Spike, we could really make something of you; we don't want to lose you."
"Yeah, I've taken a liking to you," spoke Vicious.
"Well, that could prove to be interesting," Spike responded, "I've taken a liking to you as well."
"Good. You two should make a good team. You can work together whenever I need a good team."
"You think," Spike sounded considerably enthusiastic.
"Let's go," Vicious walked out the door, showing much less enthusiasm than his new comrade. And Spike followed, still not knowing, what he had just done. He had accepted the job. For life. There was only one thing he did know. If he ever left this place, it would be in a body bag. And if he ever betray them, he would not win. He could not. So, he was here now, and as far as he was concerned, loyal; loyal to the red dragon syndicate. And loyal to Mao. Mao Yenrai. Loyal to Vicious, and soon, to Julia as well. And his job in the feared red dragon syndicate, was official. Spike Spegial, syndicate member. In all his records, nothing had ever been as bad, or good, depending on what perspective you looked at it through, as this. Nothing at all.
"Walk on your heals first, then slightly to the outer side. You don't make as much noise that way. Good to come in surprising your opponent. Nice advantage." Spike did such, and there was no more talk.
Once again, he walked down the crowded streets, this time, as far as he knew, alone, or at least, not being watched. Once again, he walked through the double doors. Once again, he walked up to the desk; this time, he got a surprise. Spike had never really been inside a syndicate, and didn't know what to expect, but this defiantly wasn't it. As soon as he reached what he assumed to be the service desk, bullets shattered the glass, and the body of the receptionist was lying in a pool of crimson. It didn't really sicken him, he just moved. And then, it was over. Five men ran after the shooter; jumping out of the windows, doors, whatever was closest. Another two picked up the woman, and took her, come to think of it he didn't know, so, somewhere. The same man from yesterday, he called himself Vicious, or so Spike thought, emerged from the shadows, and told him where to go.
Vicious glanced at his watch. "10:02. You're late."
The dirty green haired man simply raised his eyebrows, and gave his, crooked grin. "Then, if there are complaints, I'll be leaving." He turned, but did not move.
"Vicious. Keep him here," a deep voice spoke.
"Come with me," Vicious resumed, ignoring the orders, and walking towards the right side 3rd door. Spike, finding this man to be slightly amusing, gave in, and walked beside the other. The two walked, side by side, for a ways, down a long hallway. Tile. Spike's shoes made loud sounds, while Vicious kept quite the whole way, trained to be silent. After awhile, they reached the top floor, and proceeded to the farthest door down, on the very end. Vicious knocked, and upon hearing the, "Come on," went inside, closing the door after Spike. There was a man, sitting in one of those long, tall black chairs, hiding all your features, in front of a large computer. He looked like the big type, not one to play games.
"Mr. Spegial."
"Yeah?"
The man wheeled around quickly to face Spike. It proved to show a shadowy face, and hair, the color of Vicious', just not quite as long. A cynical smirk played his features well. "Mao. Mao Yenrai."
"Well, nice to meet you Mao. You have requested I come to work here?"
"Yes, yes. Would you be willing to do so?"
"Yeah. Yeah I would."
"Good."
"But why me?"
"Mr. Yenrai has an eye for people like you - us," Vicious intruded into the discussion.
"Yes, well, I know who is fit for the job," Mao took over again, "I don't want just anyone, who faints at the sight of blood."
"That COULD be a problem for someone in this line of work," Spike followed his lead and continued.
"Yes, and what do you consider this type of work to be, Mr. Spegial?"
"The dirty kind."
"You could say that," Vicious once again cut in.
Spike looked over at him. 'He could be a pretty good guy.'
As if reading his thoughts, Mao continued; "He can be a pretty good man sometimes, but he does have a problem. Can't seem to get enough blood. Homicide runs through his veins." Vicious remained silent to this remark.
"Seems like the type."
"He is."
"Am I?"
"Yes Vicious. And I think you know it, and honor it. But, enough chatter, you've got a job to do."
"Which one of us," Vicious asked.
"Both of you," Mao responded, the smirk once again finding it's way to his face.
"I work alone."
"So do I."
"Not for this mission boys. I need two people."
"What is it," Vicious spoke, already over the dislike, knowing he would not win.
"The jail downtown. We have some men down there, and we want them back. Also, the guard there. He used to work for us as well. That's how we got so many men arrested. He double-crossed us. Kill him."
"And how should we go about this one," Vicious asked once again, a look of anxiousness in his eyes
"However you find suitable."
"Do you want anyone else left alive?"
"That is not my business. Free them if you wish. Otherwise, it doesn't matter. None of them are syndicate material."
"Bombs," Spike cut in.
"Yes, Mr. Spegial. And how do you presume to do that, and get our men out, with it so heavily guarded?"
"I have my ways."
"As do I," Vicious said, obviously not afraid of this man, or what might anger him.
"Do as you can. Whatever you do, don't get caught. Vicious, you're my best man. Spike, we could really make something of you; we don't want to lose you."
"Yeah, I've taken a liking to you," spoke Vicious.
"Well, that could prove to be interesting," Spike responded, "I've taken a liking to you as well."
"Good. You two should make a good team. You can work together whenever I need a good team."
"You think," Spike sounded considerably enthusiastic.
"Let's go," Vicious walked out the door, showing much less enthusiasm than his new comrade. And Spike followed, still not knowing, what he had just done. He had accepted the job. For life. There was only one thing he did know. If he ever left this place, it would be in a body bag. And if he ever betray them, he would not win. He could not. So, he was here now, and as far as he was concerned, loyal; loyal to the red dragon syndicate. And loyal to Mao. Mao Yenrai. Loyal to Vicious, and soon, to Julia as well. And his job in the feared red dragon syndicate, was official. Spike Spegial, syndicate member. In all his records, nothing had ever been as bad, or good, depending on what perspective you looked at it through, as this. Nothing at all.
"Walk on your heals first, then slightly to the outer side. You don't make as much noise that way. Good to come in surprising your opponent. Nice advantage." Spike did such, and there was no more talk.
