Malice
Chapter One
Rain. The man known as Vicious had come to hate it in the hours he'd had to wait for a car to arrive to pick him up from the cathedral. He was soaked, his shoulder hurt, and he was pretty badly burned; not a good combination for him. Blood dripped from his fingers as he leaned against a wall, not looking forward to having to walk all the way back to the headquarters. He growled when he thought of Spike; he thought he'd finally gotten rid of the bastard, but, when he'd gotten to ground level, he didn't find the body anywhere. He doubled over when hacking coughs wracked his frame, and looked in disgust at his hand, that of which was covered in tiny spots of blood, before it was washed clean by the rain.
"Just peachy." Vicious thought, sarcastically, now knowing that there were more problems than just his exterior injuries to worry about.
"Hey, are you just gonna stand here all day?" an impatient voice asked. It was then that Vicious realized that someone was standing in front of him, holding an umbrella over his head.
"So, it's you." Vicious managed to say, before stifling some more ragged coughing with his hand. The person before him smirked, her dark blue eyes reflecting a somewhat sarcastic mood.
"Yeah, got a problem with it, V?" the woman asked, challenging the wounded man with her eyes. He shook his head, not speaking since he knew that when he did, it irritated his damaged lungs.
"Good. But damn, you look like you've been marched through hell's half acre." The woman said, looking Vicious over with just a glance.
"You look good too, Malice." Vicious replied, despite the burning pain in his chest and throat. She arched an eyebrow.
"C'mon, let's get out of this rain. I certainly don't want to die of pneumonia or somethin' like that." The woman said, as she ushered Vicious to a waiting car. The woman known as Malice had been in the Syndicate for as long as she could remember. Even longer than Vicious, and with just as bad a reputation. She was known for being ruthless and cunning, and also for being very regal (when she wanted to be). All of the men in the Syndicate knew to be wary of Malice, and to stay out of her way, lest they end up, well, childless. Malice looked back at Vicious from her rearview mirror. Even though he did his best to hide it, he was in a lot of pain. She winced when she heard him cough again, and noticed that his breathing was becoming more labored.
"Hang on, Vicious, we're almost there." Malice said, as she sped onto the off ramp, ignoring the blaring horns of fellow motorists while she was at it.
"Another of your shortcuts, Malice?" Vicious asked, as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
"You could call it that. Hang on!" Malice said, as she swerved out into oncoming traffic. She smirked when she heard grumbled profanities from the backseat, many of them in several different languages.
"Fluent in the tongues, I see." Malice quipped, as she flew between oncoming cars. She could almost feel the ice in Vicious' gaze as she sped on, heading for their home base. She could almost hear Vicious' sigh of relief when the reached the Red Dragons' home base, and definitely heard when a sigh of some sort was cut short by more coughing.
"Maybe I should have taken you to a hospital, instead." Malice said, letting a tiny sliver of worry emerge in her voice. Vicious didn't answer, but she could tell that he didn't favor the idea. For some reason or another, the man hated hospitals with a passion. Malice sighed.
"Then I guess that means I'm going to be playing nurse for a while. What is it with men and getting torn up that seems so inevitable?" Malice muttered, as she parked her car along the curb and got out. Vicious followed suit, but quickly found that standing up again after sitting down was far more painful. He leaned heavily on the car, trying to get his breath back, and almost panicking when he found he couldn't. His vision swam, and there was a roaring sound in his ears. The next thing he knew was that he was on his back, looking up at the concerned visage of Malice. Then his world faded to black.
When Vicious next awoke, he was in an unfamiliar room. For a moment, he thought he was back in Julia's apartment, but then he remembered that she had long since disappeared.
"So, you're awake. You scared the hell out of me, you know that?" Malice's voice said, as Malice herself appeared before him.
"Where am I?" Vicious whispered, growling when he heard how pathetic he sounded.
"My place. You've been here for a little over a week." Malice said, matter-of-factly, as she pressed a hand to his forehead and managed to look relieved when she found no fever.
"And you've been watching over me all this time? I didn't think you had any of that kind of kindness in you." Vicious muttered, wincing as his lungs protested against his talking.
"I don't think of it as 'kindness'. I think of it more as being professional interest." Malice replied, casually, refusing to take the barb that had been thrown at her. Vicious arched an eyebrow, but said no more, as he closed his ice blue eyes and focused on breathing.
"I found your katana, by the way." Malice said, with a smirk, after a few moments. Vicious looked at her and blinked.
"I found it two whole blocks away from the cathedral. Spiegel sure had it in for ya, didn't he?" Malice asked, noticing when a rather sour expression crossed Vicious' features.
"Just as I have it in for him." Vicious said, his voice softer than it was before, but still carrying some venom.
"No doubt about that. But why is it so personal?" Malice asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.
"None of your business." Vicious replied, sharply.
"Could it be because of that whore, oh, what was her name? Julia? Is that it?" Malice asked, knowing she'd struck a nerve when she saw Vicious painfully sit up and attempt to strike her. She easily dodged, unsheathed her own katana, and pressed it to the man's throat.
"Think twice before trying that again, Vicious. Otherwise, you won't even have to worry about chasing Spike." Malice purred, dangerously, as she pressed the sword's keen edge against Vicious' pale neck, just enough to draw blood. Then she turned and walked out, wiping the sword clean with an old rag as she went. Vicious sat where he was in stunned silence. No one had ever dared do that to him before!
"I think I have just met my match." Vicious thought, as he warily lay back down, waiting for the moment when she would return; either to finish him off, or to feed him.
Author's Note!
Okay, this is my first requested fic! I know Vicious may be OOC but Cowboy Bebop never really reveals much about Vicious' character (it only makes him look like a scumbag). Still, he has to have been human enough to love at one time, right? Well, anyhow, the character of Malice doesn't belong to me. She's the brainchild of my friend Archaic Raven (but direct any flames to me, not her, okay?). This story takes place a little after the aftermath of Episode Five: The Ballad of Fallen Angels.
Gemini