Chapter Three
After a rather leisurely drive through town (to Vicious' relief, Malice didn't drive this time), Vicious and Malice arrived at their destination. It appeared to be one of the more upper-class apartment complexes on Mars; just the type that had tighter-than-Fort-Knox security. Malice sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose; she could already feel a migraine coming on, and they hadn't even entered the building yet.
"So, who's the target?" Malice asked, as she opened the trunk and got her katana and gun out (she didn't usually use a gun, but she liked having it in case of emergencies).
"Someone by the name of 'Jester'. Ever heard of him?" Vicious asked, turning to her with the oddest expression on his face.
"Nope, can't say that I have. Why does the Van want him dead?" Malice asked, as she and the silver-haired man looked for a good way to get in.
"Apparently they'd caught wind of him stealing from the funds; he's the usual bottom of the barrel scum." Vicious muttered, almost growling in disdain for being sent after the small fry.
"So they called us up in the middle of the freaking night just to catch some money laundering dip-shit. V, I'm telling you, one of these days those wrinkled old asswipes will have my katana shoved up their asses!" Malice growled, her eyes lighting up as she said that. Vicious' raised both eyebrows in mock surprise.
"Maybe you should have been named 'Vicious', instead." Vicious said, in a voice so quiet that Malice had to strain her ears in order to hear him. She grinned.
"Nah, then that would get too confusing. That name suits you far better than it does me." Malice purred. Vicious smirked; at least he wasn't alone in his hatred of the Van. Finally, after an hour of searching, they found a suitable entrance; a second story balcony door. The owners of the apartment had left the door ajar. Vicious growled when he stepped on a toy that had been left in the middle of the room by a child, but then he picked it up and looked at it. It was a small replica of an old anime battleship, made from more durable plastic than toys from fifty years ago were made with. For a few moments, Vicious was lost in memories of his own youth; silently reliving days long since past. Malice watched in silence as the wall that was around Vicious' emotions briefly came down, revealing a man who'd had everything taken away. She watched as he reverently put the model on a shelf so it wouldn't get stepped on again, then slowly slipped back into business mode.
"Let's go, we can't afford to waste any more time in here." Vicious said, with a tone Malice had never heard before.
"Right. Let's get this over with." Malice said, thinking better of not asking her partner about what she had just seen. As they made their way into the hall, she noticed how silent Vicious was.
"Almost like a cat…………..no, more like a tiger or a panther." Malice thought, as she followed his lead to the stairs.
"So, what floor is he on?" Malice asked, whispering in case there were any bodyguards nearby.
"Tenth floor." Vicious replied, back to his usual self.
"Eight floors to go. He didn't choose a very high room, did he?" Malice asked.
"No………..that in itself is peculiar. Suspicious." Vicious growled, narrowing his eyes at that thought.
"I agree." Malice said, as they continued their climb in silence. When they had gotten to their floor, they were surprised by the lack of security in the halls.
"I wonder what is going on here?" Vicious mused, as he and Malice moved stealthily down the darkened hallway. Then, before either of them could react, the hallway seemed to explode into a hail of lead.
"Damn!" Vicious and Malice shouted, at the same time, as they tried to avoid getting hit and firing back with their guns when they got the chance.
"Malice!" Vicious shouted, as he unsheathed his katana and motioned towards the gunmen. With a sneer and a nod, Malice followed his lead, unsheathed her katana, and followed him in a headlong charge right into the center of the gunmen's group. The gunmen were so shocked by the two that, before they could retaliate, their heads were flying across the hall.
"It's at the end of the hall." Vicious said, as he again led her forward. Finally, they arrived at the room where the so called 'Jester' was hiding. When they opened the door, however, they were in for a nasty surprise.
"Hello, Red Dragons. To whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting this night?" a youthful voice asked, from the behind the desk.
"Something isn't right." Vicious thought, as he approached the desk slowly, and turned the high-backed desk chair around, revealing the mangled corpse of their quarry.
"What the hell?!" Malice yelped, for the first time in her life, truly horrified by what she saw. So shocked was she by the condition of the body in the chair, that Malice didn't notice the figure emerging from the shadows until it was almost too late.
"Malice!" Vicious shouted, shoving her aside before a gunshot sounded. Time slowed down for a few seconds as Malice landed soundly on her rump, and watched in stunned silence as the man known as Vicious took a bullet to the stomach, stumbled a few feet back, and remained standing to face the one that had shot him.
"Who are you? Who the hell are you?" Vicious gritted, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he maintained a good, steady grip on his katana with his right hand, while his left arm was wrapped around his wounded midsection. The figure, who turned out to be a thirteen year old boy, smirked at him.
"I am known as Scorpion. I've heard of you, Vicious. You're a very hated man in the Dragon Head. I've always wanted to meet you." The youth said, approaching Vicious, and even so much as daring to look directly into his eyes.
"You'd better watch yourself, kid. You might wind up dead." Malice snarled, as she stood and held her katana to the boy's throat. 'Scorpion', arched an eyebrow, arrogance very evident in his expression.
"Is that so? Even as we speak, my associates are on their way up here. All I would have to do is call out, and they would storm this room. There's no way you can take them all on, especially with Vicious in the condition he's in." Scorpion sneered, with false concern when he saw the dark stain on Vicious' trench coat.
"Damn you." Malice growled, as she got closer to Vicious to see what kind of shape he was really in. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was in no shape to fight; despite all his training, the pain was overwhelming him. With a move that she would wonder about till her dying day, Malice sheathed her katana, turned, threw one of Vicious' arms over her shoulders, turned to leave, and flipped the youth the bird before flying out the door and down the hall.
"What the hell…………….are you doing…………..Malice?" Vicious choked, as they rushed to the elevator.
"Don't talk, run. This place is about to turn into hell. Do you really want to see that?" Malice asked, almost sighing in relief when they came upon an elevator that appeared to be working. Strangely enough, there were no people chasing them, which Malice found rather odd.
"Malice?" Vicious asked, when they had stopped to catch their breaths inside the elevator.
"What?" Malice replied, sharply.
"Is it just me, or have you gotten shorter?" Vicious asked.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Malice asked, almost afraid that her partner was delusional because of the pain he was in. Vicious shrugged.
"I'd always thought you were a bit taller than what you really are." Vicious replied, showing the tiniest bit of humor in his ice blue eyes. Malice deadpanned.
"Count on you to find out that I am short at a time like this…………" Malice muttered, as she turned and pressed the button that would get them to the ground floor. Since they were only on the tenth floor, the descent was rather quick. Yet, once again, when they came to the ground level, there were no security officers in sight.
"Something very bizarre is going on here. Were those security officers we faced earlier, or were they Dragon Head's lackeys?" Malice mused, as she and Vicious made good their escape.
"More than likely……………..they were Dragon Heads. That would explain why this place is so quiet." Vicious muttered, gritting his teeth with every step he took.
"We need to get you to a hospital. There's no way I can treat that stomach wound on my own." Malice said, when she saw that Vicious' left arm was completely soaked in blood.
"The Syndicate has a clinic on the other side of town. We'll need to steal a car in order to get to it." Vicious said, as he eyed the cars that were parked along the curb (the car they had arrived in had long since gone).
"Way ahead of ya, V." Malice said, as she carefully leaned him against the side of the building, then went about breaking into, and hot wiring, a car.
"You're not going to drive your usual way are you?" Vicious asked, with a note of dread in his voice. Malice glanced at him. She could tell by the pain in his eyes that he wouldn't be able to take the way she normally drove.
"No. I'll obey the rules of the road this time." Malice said, almost smirking when the man uttered a sigh of relief. Within moments, they were on their way; Vicious in the backseat, and Malice at the wheel. But the trip was destined to be short lived. No sooner did they get onto the freeway, the car started showing signs of breaking down.
"Shit……………..I've stolen a lemon! You'd think that those preps could get better cars! Dammit!" Malice snarled, as the car sputtered to a stop on the side of the road. Her hackles rose when she heard a chuckle from the backseat.
"Watch it, buddy, or I'll make sure you suffer worse than what you are now." Malice purred, her dangerous side coming through.
"I'm sure you could Malice…………….I'm sure you could. But would you?" Vicious replied, his voice a little weaker than it had been a few moments before.
"Hang on, we're going to have to get out of this thing, so I can do something about the bleeding. Can you move?" Malice asked, as she peered over the front seat at her partner. Vicious sat up with a grimace, every move he made pure agony. For the first time in years, a feeling of pity rose in Malice's heart; it actually hurt to see this man in so much pain. Crawling, she moved to the passenger side door and opened it so she could get out. Then she opened the other passenger door and assisted Vicious in climbing out of the car. His face drawn from the effort of just getting to his feet, Vicious looked almost as though he could pass out at any moment. Deciding against remaining in the open, Malice decided to hide in one of the many decrepit houses that lined the freeway. Once inside, she got him to lie down on the dusty floor, then removed his trench coat and blood soaked shirt so she could have clear access to the wound. She winced inwardly when she saw the neat hole in his abdomen.
"Doesn't look good, does it?" Vicious asked, his breaths coming in short gasps as he said that.
"No, it doesn't. And it looks like I'll have to remove it myself after all." Malice muttered, really dreading having to pull the bullet out herself. He grumbled a curse in response to that. The next couple of moments were excruciating for both Malice and Vicious. Despite lacking the necessary equipment for removing a bullet from the stomach (like anesthesia for example) Malice managed to pull the piece of lead out without damaging her partner further. And, even though the pain was intense, Vicious never once screamed, and lay perfectly still while she was doing it. When she was through, and had stitched the wound closed, she looked again at Vicious' face. His ice blue eyes were barely open, but he saw her and managed a weak smirk.
"If you had wanted to kill me, you would have done so by now, wouldn't you?" Vicious asked, his voice raw with fresh pain.
"Yep. I would have." Malice said, teasingly, trying to hide her worry for him.
"Hmm…………….you're so different…………." Vicious murmured, his voice losing its usual steely edge.
"What do you mean, V?" Malice asked, as she wiped some sweaty strands of silver hair from his face.
"Nothing. Malice?" Vicious asked, his voice soft, almost too soft for her to hear.
"What?" Malice asked, in turn.
"Your lap. Would you mind………..?" Vicious asked, again. It took a moment for this to sink into Malice's tired brain, but, when it did, she was stunned. Vicious wanted to pillow his head on her lap?! She had to be dreaming!
"Hold it, I thought you only wanted Julia!" Malice said, heatedly, spitting the name 'Julia' out as though it had a bad taste to it. Vicious flinched, but didn't retaliate.
"She's no longer around………………." Vicious murmured, with true sadness in his voice. Malice felt her heart of stone melt in that brief instant.
"Okay. But just this once." Malice said, as she gently placed Vicious' head and shoulders on her lap. The moment his head touched her lap, Vicious visibly relaxed, breathing out all the pain and tension in a soft sigh.
"Vicious?" Malice asked, a little alarmed at how quiet the man now was. He uttered a soft sound in his throat, but didn't open his eyes, signaling that he'd either passed out, or gone to sleep.
"Poor thing. He was so tired before we left, and now this has happened to him. Wait a darned minute! What the hell am I thinking?! This is Vicious I'm thinkin' about here! Not any normal human being by any stretch of the imagination, but Vicious!" Malice thought, mentally slapping herself, then she looked down at him again. There he lay, the most feared man in the Syndicate, sleeping peacefully with his head on her lap. Her lap; not Julia's!
"Hah! Beat that, Julia!" Malice thought, with a smirk and an evil thought directed at the absent blonde. Vicious slept on, oblivious for once what was going on around him. For the first time in years, he was at peace, and he just wanted to stay that way for a little while.