Ok here's the much awaited chapter 11. I know it took a while, but I had a sick kid all week. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop is still not mine, although I have done some serious begging, so far to no avail….
Nothing Good Comes from Earth
Chapter 11: Drowning in Circles
Vicious stared impassively at his inept flunkeys. Jathan's body was still hanging over the table's edge. A pool of thick black blood was drying on the white linoleum under his shattered face. He transferred his gaze to the blonde man crumpled under the window that was still covered with the gore that had exploded from his skull. No big loss, Vicious thought, Dom was only useful as a body shield.
"Incompetent fools," he muttered.
"Sir?" a young Chinese man questioned his superior.
"Yes, Lin." His icy stare shifted up to his loyal servant.
"They just found Ty in the back alley. His throat's been cut," Lin reported almost emotionlessly.
"Good," Vicious said, turning his back on the grisly scene before him.
The bartender had described the man responsible for the slaughter perfectly--green hair, dark eyes, tall lanky build. It could only be one person. Spike.
Spike was so predictable. Capturing his little girlfriend had been almost too easy. And he had come running to Mars, gun happy, to avenge her. He was so weak when it came to women. Especially beautiful ones. A small, twisted smile contorted his lips. Soon he would have that traitor in his grasp; soon it would all be over, and Spike would be dead
***
"Faye! Where the heck are you going this time?" Jet yelled, catching up to her in the rotating corridor. He grabbed her leather clad arm and jerked her around to face him.
The malicious retort died on her lips when she saw a look of genuine concern, for her of all people, cross his face. Jet letting on that he cared about them was new, and would take some getting used to.
"Jet…," she sighed, looking into his worried eyes.
"You're going after Spike, aren't you?" he said, almost half-smiling.
The tenderness evaporated out of her. Her eyes narrowed to glowing emerald slits as she yanked her arm free from his grip. Like I'd waste my time on that jerk, she thought, trying to force down the hurt and feed the anger inside her.
"Hell no! Why would I?" she berated the confused older man.
"Well, I just thought…you know, since…well, you and him…um…,"Jet trailed off, looking over her head, at his feet, anywhere but her face.
"Well, don't!" she screeched.
"Don't what!"
"Don't think! Especially about me and him!"
"Well then where are you going!" he shouted back, his temper flaring.
"To take care of some business on Mars," she replied coolly. She spun around, black leather flowing and swishing about her legs as she continued down the corridor to the hangar.
"What kind of business would that be?" he yelled after her retreating form.
"The personal kind," she replied, not bothering to look back.
"Vicious will kill you, you know," Jet said matter-of-factly.
Faye paused, her bobbed hair swinging as she glanced over her shoulder.
"Whatever happens, happens," she stated casually, winking a smoky green eye at him.
"Not only are you sleeping with him, now you sound like him, Faye," he said, raising one black eyebrow, his arms crossing his massive chest.
She stopped cold, and for a moment she looked like she would murder him where he stood. In an instant her homicidal glare was supplanted by a cocky little smile.
"Go fuck yourself, Jet," she retorted, ruby lips blowing him a kiss as she walked through the door.
Jet shook his head, staring at the closed door she had disappeared through. The hangar doors groaned as they scraped open. I really should get around to oiling those, he thought automatically. He focused on the present situation. Spike was who-knows where; Faye was on her way to die. That left him, Ed, and the dog.
"Ah, damn it!" he exclaimed in an exasperated sigh. He frowned. Knowing Spike, he was most likely already on Mars to take Vicious down himself. Stupid young people, he thought sourly.
He turned and walked back the way he came, his boots clanging on the metal floor. He heard her before he saw her, and sidestepped Ed in airplane mode before she could crash into him. She made a hairpin turn and scrambled up his back, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck.
"Jetty-Jet! Why so sad?" she asked, twisting to look at his still-scowling face while perched behind his shoulders.
"I'm not sad."
"Ok!" she squealed and squeezed tighter. "Where's Faye-Faye?"
"She left again."
Well, where is Spike-person?"
"He's gone too." Jet answered tersely, trying to shake her off.
"Everyone left and forgot Edward?" she cried in disbelief. The girl threw herself backward, dramatically clattering to the floor with her arm over her eyes.
Jet gave her a dismissive glance and headed toward the bridge. A few minutes later the Bebop was following in the Redtail's wake.
"Not that they'll appreciate this at all," he grunted to Ein's curled up body in the corner.
Old man, you care too damn much…
His thought trailed off as he stared out the window.
A roiling mass of pewter clouds hung menacingly like a shroud, obscuring Mars' two moons. Rain fell in sheets on the residents of the city, subduing the normal hustle and bustle of a Sunday night.
Liquid needles beat relentlessly down on the trees, one leaf after another finding a watery grave on the flooded cobblestones below. A slender white hand bent down and picked up a large maple leaf. It was heavy with rain water and tattered on the edges. Still green, it had died before it's time.
Is this what's going to happen to me, she thought as she traced the veins with her fingertip. Something beautiful and young beaten down until she gave up and fell. Her small hand crushed the flimsy piece of foliage, red fingernails ripping holes in its flesh. No, that's not how she would die. Unlike that leaf she could fight against her storm.
Faye dropped the crumpled mass from her green stained palm.
She tilted her chin up, felt the cold rain kiss her face and drip inside the collar of her leather trenchcoat. She walked to a nearby stone bench and sat, heedless of the wet. Faye didn't know why she was wasting time wandering around the deserted park instead of trying to gather information. She hadn't really thought much beyond the go-to-Mars-and-kill-Vicious part of her plan. She needed to find him but didn't have a clue where to look. Vicious was one of those people that found you, not the other way around.
Her elbows rested on her knees as she hung her head in her hands. Drenched pieces of hair fell in her eyes, but she didn't bother to push them back into place. I wonder what Spike's doing now, he entered her thoughts unbidden. That had been happening a lot lately. This time she allowed him to stay instead of pushing him back into the pit of her stomach along with the dull ache that always accompanied him. Her mind wandered to the night before. Just him and her. Together. So perfect.
… lopsided smile, a genuine one that lit up his face. Beautiful dark eyes burning into her own with a heat deeper than lust's fire. Strong but gentle calloused hands caressing the soft flesh of her cheek as he looked at her, all his attention focused on her, not some blonde goddess…
Her hand unconsciously traced where his had been. A bitter smile tugged at her crimson lips. She had never dared hope anyone would ever look at her that way; and when it had happened, and it had been him doing it, the last of her defensive shields had melted away. She had allowed him to see her naked, body and soul.
"Stupid girl…" she muttered, lifting her head up. Rain slid down her cheeks like the tears she wished she had, but couldn't seem to find. Just another regret, she thought bitterly.
Faye smelled him before she saw him. The scent of bitter smoke cut through the fresh smell of wet grass and dirt. Her face hardened into its usual mask of cynicism, hand automatically reaching for her concealed Glock. All her senses were on edge as she waited for her watcher to make himself known.
"I know you're out there, so you might as well show yourself," she said casually, standing up. Seconds felt like minutes as they slowly ticked by. The only evidence anyone other than herself was around was the odor of burning tobacco. She wrinkled her nose, trying to discern which direction the smell was coming from. She turned to her left. Yes, it was definitely stronger over there. She spied a small copse of trees fifteen feet away from the bench. She pulled her gun and pointed it at the trees, walking forward with arms extended, her finger resting on the trigger.
"Come out, come out…," she cooed. The thrill of the hunt filled her; she had almost forgotten what that kind of rush felt like. Predator and prey facing off, not knowing which would emerge the victor. She was grinning now, her tongue sliding over the ridge of her teeth as she scanned the wooded area.
"You shouldn't be here."
The cold voice stopped her. Her smile disappeared into a line of stone. It isn't…it can't be…
"Spike?" she breathed. She didn't like how her voice had wavered when she'd said his name.
A lanky shadow stepped out of the trees, the glowing ember of his cigarette hovering in front of his face. Even in the dark she could tell he was as drenched as she was. Spike stepped closer to her; she could see his face now, and he was anything but happy to see her. Faye stood there, boots sinking into the spongy earth, gun still pointed at him. His face was taught, as if he were under too much stress; his mouth was set in a straight line, jaw slightly jutting; but the worst were his eyes, bright with the red flames of hate. That gaze-the devil's gaze-pierced her to the very core. His expression was eerily familiar. It hit her like a kick in the gut. The last time she'd seen him look like that was at the cathedral with Vicious. Only now that burning stare was directed at her. He despised her. And she hated him for it.
"Why shouldn't I be? I didn't know you were my master!" she spat, acid dripping from her tongue. Faye scowled at the man who had shared her bed not even 24 hours earlier.
He threw the smoldering butt into a nearby puddle and stepped towards her. He didn't like that she was there; after all, she could get hurt. But damn, it was good to see her. He needed her like a drowning man needed air. He was a drowning man, only he was sinking in blood instead of water. He had killed those men. Granted, they deserved it, but he didn't have to enjoy it. His thirst for the blood of his enemy was consuming him.
He had been wandering Wendfield Memorial for hours, hoping Vicious would show his ugly face. The rain had long since washed most of the blood from him, but he could still feel it pouring over his hands. It grew dark, the sky showing no sign of clearing. So he kept walking aimlessly.
Then there she was, kneeling beneath a maple tree, fixated on a leaf. She had changed her clothes again. She appeared to be in black leather head to toe. He liked it. His Faye looked dangerous. She hadn't heard him, whether from the pounding rain or the fact that he was in stealth mode he wasn't sure. He had hid himself, planning on just watching her. And then he had lit that damn cigarette. Maybe I wanted her to catch me, he thought wearily.
He took another step forward, quickly closing the distance between them. He stopped when his chest was pressed against the barrel of her gun. They just stood there, rain beating staccato on the cobbled path behind them.
"You shouldn't be here," he repeated, looking into her brilliant green eyes. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him, the gun sandwiched between their chests. Spike buried his hand in her wet black hair and wrenched her head back roughly to kiss her.
"No!" Faye said, breaking away from his grasp.
Spike was irritated, but mostly confused. Is she mad at me? He pulled her back into his arms. He couldn't let her go, not yet. Not until that awful fury that rode him was extinguished. He kissed her again.
"I said no," she seethed against his lips, even as her body started to relax into his. Suddenly a burst of pain flew up his leg. Faye had kicked him in the shins.
"Shit, Faye! What the hell was that for?"
"You're not going to use me again." Her voice was venomous.
"What?"
"Use me once, shame on you; use me twice, shame on me!" She was almost yelling now. "I'm not some whore you can fuck when you get bored or when you need to feel better about yourself!"
"Wh-is that what you think last night was! Is it!" he bellowed, shaking her. How could she think that? Didn't she know how he felt about her?
"Isn't that what it usually is when you leave someone in a cheap motel bed without a damn word?"
Just then he noticed the hurt. It was tingeing the anger in her voice, hiding under the fury flashing in her eyes. Hatred that had been directed at others now turned inward. His grip on her arms unconsciously tightened until he was squeezing hard enough to leave bruises through the leather. He had never been physically rough with her before.
"Spike," her voice hitched in fear barely concealed by rage as he lifted her off the ground, "you're hurting me."
His fingers released her immediately.
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…hurt…you."
"Which time?" she asked, stumbling backwards away from him, rubbing her sore biceps. Faye never backed away from a fight with him. Until now.
He turned his back on her and walked into the trees. Every time, he thought as he disappeared from view.
Faye was yelling something at him, but he wasn't listening. The fury blazed hotter, filling his head with a deafening roar. Vicious, it was hissing. Vicious…
Vicious sat in his dark office overlooking the city. His black crow perched on a chair nearby. There was a hollow rap from the other side of the oak door.
"Enter," he commanded, spinning his brown leather chair to face his messenger. His first rule, 'never leave your back open', applied to friend and foe alike.
"Sir, Miss Valentine's ship has been reported to have just landed in the city," said the tall, chestnut haired rooky standing at attention in front of his master.
"Where has she landed?" he demanded.
"Wendfield Memorial, Sir."
"Send a group to 'invite' her here."
"As you wish, Sir," the man bowed and left.
A thin smile played on his lips. "How convenient for us, Miss Valentine wants to grace us with her presence once again."
The ugly bird squawked his agreement.
Vicious sat at his desk in the dark, reliving every detail of their last meeting. How he had broken her body and spirit, and then fucked her while she screamed. He hadn't expected it to go that far, but the mouthy bitch deserved it. No one called him a coward and lived. She didn't realize how lucky she was that he'd needed her alive. It had been pleasurable; and it wasn't often he found something to take pleasure in. He licked his lips in anticipation. After he disposed of Spike, perhaps he should remind her why he was called Vicious.