A/N: Let's try and finish this little bit up now, shall we? And, since I'm not thinking of any songs, none shall go here. I really should just get someone to read my chapters and pick songs for me. Doing both takes way too much time.

Oh, and on a side note, this is my big surprise chapter. But you have to read through the whole thing to find out what it is.

Session 8:

The Sounds of a Silent Gunshot

It was quite a predicament the three found themselves in. The first, gun pointed uselessly at the floor with the second's barrel buried in the back of his neck. The second, keeping the first secured to the ground, with the third's gun aimed directly at his temple. The third, gun keeping the second from trying anything, not knowing what in the world she was doing.

Wrath turn his eyes to the side, sizing up the girl. No, she certainly was no hooker. Her posture was well balanced and her grip was firm and unyielding. She knew how to use a gun. But, as he gathered from her eyes darting nervously between him and the bounty hunter, she didn't know who to use it on.

Now was his chance. If he gave her enough time to make up her mind, he could find himself missing a few pieces of brain. He himself didn't exactly know what was going on, and he'd like some answers. He wouldn't kill her, yet.

"Stop moving!"

Wrath was astonished. He had barely begun to tense the muscle in his arm and she had caught him already. Who ever she was, she certainly had some damn good training in her past. "What? You're going to kill me before you get to deliver that precious message of yours?"

Jet's half glaring eyes shot open suddenly. That voice? No. Not the voice. The voice wasn't the same. But something in the voice... the inappropriate humor behind the words. That's what was the same. It can't be...

Well, whether it was who he thought or not, it didn't matter at the moment. The two were talking - distracted. Act now or die later.

Jet bent his neck in a rather uncomfortable position, but a position clear of any bullets. He swung his body backwards and launched his legs into the air. A loud crack signified the direct hit his boot had with the man's jaw. Wrath's gun went off, but hit only floor. The woman's gun did the same, but only grazed Jet's mechanical arm. Lucky Jet.

Jet managed to roll to his feet as Wrath fell to the ground, landing flat on his back. He aimed his gun directly at the woman, not worrying about the man rolling around on the floor in front of him. "Drop it."

Her gun was already fixated on the unmoving form of Jet. She stood defiantly, grip never loosening. "I said drop it! I don't want to have to shoot you, but I will if -"

Jet's sentence was punctuated with a blast, followed by a pained grunt. Apparently that rolling man had been rolling straight towards his abandoned gun. Now Jet had a psychotic bounty, an unnamed, armed hooker, and a limp to deal with. His gun switched to his false hand as his natural one shot down to his leg in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Where was Faye with her first aid kits when you needed her?

Wrath slowly rose to his feet, gun now pointed at the girl, but his eyes watching both her and Jet. He smirked at Jet, eyes traveling to the blood dripping down his leg. "Nice wound. Where'd you get that fake arm?"

Jet's eyes widened momentarily, before narrowing in anger. Who the hell -?!

There he decided it would be his time to escape. Sure, this Wrath person could easily put a bullet in the back of his head as he turned to flea, but it was better than bleeding to death just standing there. But, much to Jet's gleeful surprise, no bullets trailed after him as he turned, dragging his lifeless leg to the door with the rest of him.

Instead, Wrath remained exactly where he was, gun still pointed intently at the girl. She had dropped hers to her side, knowing if she tried to shift her aim over to him he wouldn't hesitate to give her a quick, red make-over. His eyes were still covered by those sunglasses, but she was sure one eye was staring along the top of that gun barrel, making sure it was aimed perfectly. She sighed, defeated, only waiting for him to decide what her fate would be.

Much to her surprise, he dropped his weapon, too. With no sign of tiredness from the struggle in his step, he walked back to where they had started. He turned the chair she had sat in before back over. He paid no head to her, quickly taking the good seat for himself. "Sit down."

Jet limped his way down that stairs with a sense of urgency. There was no one following him, but he still felt the need to get out of there as soon as possible. As he hit the lobby floor, he pulled out his communicator. "Ed! Bring around the Bebop, now!"

Ed's happy face quickly appeared on screen. "Ed-o, go!" Just as fast as she came, she was gone again, surely to control the Bebop from her trusty Tomato.

But she wouldn't get there fast enough. As Jet's body flew out of the front doors of the Hotel, 5 ends of 5 automatic rifles, held by 5 Syndicate members waited for him. He stopped dead in his tracks. As he did so, a large, black bird flew over Jet's head from it's spot on the awning above him. It could've been a crow, but maybe not. Jet didn't know shit about birds.

Birds or not, one thing Jet knew all too well was trouble, and he could tell he was in some.

A tall, strong looking man was the bird's new perch. His black coverings only added to the darkness the man naturally held. As he walked forward, Jet could start to distinguish a few of the his features. Actually, only two - the man's unfriendly intent and his hair. Long, silver strands protected most of the man's face from the outside world. His broad shoulders implied the power the man possessed. The epitome of fear with silver accessories - sounded similar to the man Faye had ranted and raved about. The one who had taken her hostage to get to Spike. The one Spike would never talk about.

"Vicious?"

The man stopped a few feet away from Jet, but made no indication that he had heard him. His head rose, unveiling the most piercing eyes that could ever exist. He was staring right through Jet. A dissatisfied look marred the man's face. A low, dangerous voice emitted from him. "This isn't him."

With that said, the man was on his way. He turned, uninterested in Jet, and headed back the way he came. Jet might've breathed a sigh of relief, if he hadn't already noticed that this assumed leader was the only one leaving. The other five remained firmly in their positions, guns still pointed in a dangerous direction - Jet's.

Jet's eyes glanced around the malicious crowd. All were dressed almost identically. They were Syndicate men, alright. But, for the time being, so was he. "Now, wait just a second guys. You all hired me, remember? I'm bringing in your bounty for you."

Jet started backing up, waving his hands in front of his chest, wishing to wave off the encroaching danger. It didn't seem to be working. He went on rambling, not exactly sure of what he was saying, only aware of the fact that they were getting closer.

In desperation, he dove back, frantically pulling at the door as the serenade of gunfire began. After quickly closing the door behind him, the violent orchestra behind him shattered all glass on the door. Before they were done, the door was pretty much nonexistent. Before they could reload, Jet was darted around the corner, panting and clutching his leg. He didn't know how he had done it, but he managed to get there with only the bullet hole Wrath had given him.

"So, where were we?"

To woman simple stared at him, nervous beyond all belief. So much for her plan. After all that had taken place in the last few minutes, she couldn't ever remember what the plan had been. But now, she was back where she started - sitting across from him, him asking all the questions.

He scoffed a little. Silence? That was her answer? He refused to believe that she had come all this way just to forget what she was doing there. "Did we forget already? You were just about to tell me your little message, weren't you? Well... out with it."

She coughed, then cleared her throat. It had run dry with the mixture of fear and excitement the rumble had caused her. She had been trained well, but this was her first time with an actual mission. Soon, through an unwilling throat, she answered. "Shin.... he wants to meet with you. Tomorrow night."

"Bullshit."

She only cocked her head to the side, an innocent look of confusion on her face. Bullshit? Did she come all this way, put up with all she had, just to have him throw it back in her face. "Excuse me?"

"You're lying. You really aren't as smart as you look..."

It seemed as if he had more to say, but Wrath fell silent. His head turned around, looking out the window. A quiet, distant voice can be heard. A distant, pleading voice. A rambling voice, saying anything to get out of whatever situation its owner had gotten it into. Wrath stood, taking two long strides to look out of the window. With all the guns he saw, he doubt it was just a friendly meeting in the street.

Soon, his own gun was drawn, pointed once again at the blonde's face. "C'mon. We're going outside. Fresh air."

He hastily lead her to the elevator. The same one, from right in the middle of the lobby, that she had ridden up to his room. As the doors closed around them, Wrath discarded his used clip, quickly replacing it. After the secure click of his now cocked gun sounded, he broke the silence between them. "If you still have that gun of yours, you might want to get it ready."

She quizzically looked at him, as if to ask what he was talking about. She soon realized his meaning at the sounds of hundreds of bullets exploding into the air reached her ears. Silently, she obeyed, taking out her still unused gun.

The world quieted a little as the elevator reached its destination. Three confused gunmen stood in the middle of the empty hall, with two more standing guard at what was left of the front doors. "Where the hell did he go?"

The one in the center simply shrugged. There were three hallways the man they were after could've dove into. Unless he wanted to make his presence known, they'd have to split up. For safety's sake, the two at the door would have to remain there, just in case anyone else came. They did see him talking into a communicator of some type, probably calling for back up. That meant the three of them would have to split up, which wasn't good.

If this guy was good enough to have the Syndicate heads offer him that much money, he had to be good enough to take them out one by one. So much for safety in numbers. And as the man's mind wandered to all these different factors, he was too distracted to hear the 'ding' of the arriving elevator.

With a ding and the soft sound of releasing pressure, the elevator doors slide open in front of Wrath and the woman. Three men stood directly in front of them, none seeming to notice them. Wrath wouldn't stand for that.

He quickly sent off three bullets, alerting two of the men and killing the third. No vitals were hit, but three holes were enough to send him to the ground, bleeding to death. He quickly moved to the side, back within the cover the elevator provided. He pinned the woman against the side of their transportation. "Wait here."

With that, he was gone, darting out of the open doors and into the large corridor that housed the killers who were after Jet. He sent a knee to one's chest. As he man hunched over, Wrath quickly sent an elbow to the back of his head. The other took the opportunity to send the butt of his rifle to Wrath's ribs, cutting his breath off.

He fought through the shooting pain, sending a fist to the man's face. It connected well enough to get the man another foot away from him, but it wasn't quite strong enough to scare off the man approaching. One guard, leaving his 'post' at the door, charged straight for Wrath. In a heavy blow, the tall, mysterious man with fluffy brown hair found himself pinned against a wall, struggling to breath in the man's tight grip.

He could see a flash of shiny, flesh colored metal before he felt the oxygen reenter his lungs. Jet's fake arm sent quite a blow to the unsuspecting man. As his gun clattered to the floor as Jet's good arm wrapped around his neck, prying him off of Wrath. He quickly tossed the confused man to the floor as his hands grabbed the collar of Wrath's shirt, pulling him around the corner.

The two fled down the hall way with surprising speed before Wrath pulled Jet to a stop. "In here!" A powerful kick made quick work out of the door. The two dove into the empty hotel room, each taking to the walls on either side of the now open door for cover.

As Jet desperately tried to catch his breath, Wrath spoke, not seeming too winded. "Why are you helping me?'

Jet stood up straight again, done with his panting. "If you're dead, I don't get my bounty. You?"

A small smile came to Wrath's lips as he shook his head. "You bounty hunters never change. Me? If you're dead, I don't get to kill you."

Before Jet could question the rather odd bounty hunter comment, he noticed two approaching men. They looked a little angry, and their guns only added to the feeling. Before either man had a chance to fire, or react in any way for that matter, Jet had one by the jacket, pulling him violently into the room, while Wrath had one by the throat, pushing him back into the hallway.

Jet took his man to the ground, pinning him there as he sent a mechanical fist into the man's mouth. Even before the blood could show from the busted lip, the man's gun came up, pushing Jet away by the neck. Jet inhaled sharply, falling to his side.

Wrath has pinned his man against the door across the hall. Two repeating knees to the man's stomach sent him looking for the breath he had just lost, as a chop to the side of the neck would force him to look around the floor for his lost gun as well. Wrath paused briefly to listen in on the happenings of the room. It didn't sound too good.

An explosion of automatic bullets didn't sound too good to Jet, either. They sounded even worse headed straight for him. With an agility he didn't know he possessed, Jet dove over the room's bed, ducking on the other side at the bullets sent mattress stuffing into the air. Utilizing the slight pause in firing, Jet popped up, firing two wild bullets back at the man.

Neither hit, and the raucous of gunshots started again. Jet wondered why they didn't make bullet proof beds as he listened for another pause in the tirade. It came, but was filled immediately with footsteps. The man must've finally gotten the hint that he wasn't going to hit Jet that way.

Jet readied himself as the gunman rounded the bed, looking for a more suitable angle to kill at. As soon as he was within view, Jet fired, ready well before the assailant was. He thanked the gods that at least the ISSP had taught him how to aim. One bullet was all Jet needed - it tore straight through the man's right wrist. Not the most dangerous place to be shot, but it certainly meant you were dropping your weapon.

Wrath didn't realize just how dirty Syndicate men could fight. As his opponent dropped to the ground to find his gun, he also decided to send off a punch on his way down - a punch straight to Wrath's family pride.

With an awkward limp, Wrath backed into the room, diving backwards to avoid the flurry of lead flying his way. For the most part, he landed unscathed - one bullet hitting him in the shoulder, and another only grazing across his face, managing to shoot the sunglasses right off of his nose bridge. Close, but if he was still alive, it wasn't close enough.

He quickly tucked himself into a crouching position. As the man foolishly ran into the room after him, Wrath's leg swung out, easily whipping the man's feet out from under him. As he fell back, the man's trigger finger tightened, firing a few shots wildly into the air. Jet and Wrath remained unharmed, but Jet's dancing partner, still falling backwards from Jet's shot, caught a couple bullets in the neck. Poor guy never saw it coming.

Upon hearing the commotion going on, Vicious turned back around, heading back towards the hotel. Killing one idiot of a man shouldn't be taking so long. In all honesty, he could care less about the lives of the five buffoons he had chosen to take with him. If they failed, he'd simple send five more out to hunt down this bounty hunter and dispose of him. But the girl - her getting killed so early in the game simply would not work.

As he headed back, his precious pet bird flew off. It didn't like getting its feathers dirty with blood. Long strides swiftly took Vicious to the elevator. A long finger pressed to upwards pointed arrow, the doors immediately opening. Without stepping inside, a long arm reached in, grabbing the woman by the wrist.

"Come. You really shouldn't be hanging around this type of riff-raff."

Without waiting for any other mishaps, Wrath left the room, gun pointed in front of himself protectively. As he came back into the main corridor of the hall way, he kept running, but not without firing a few shots as he passed. As he ducked for cover in the opposite hallway, he heard a gun drop to the floor. At least he got one of them.

While he was still changing clips, he was in the hallway again, being greeted by the contents of the final guard's gun. He charged ahead, not seeming to be phased by the bullets looking to snuff out his livelihood. He ran ahead, staying always one step faster than the gunshots. By the time he reached the guard, his gun was reloaded and ready to fire.

And fire it did. Wrath directed his shot downward, hitting the man in the thigh. As he slumped down, gripping his injury, Wrath send a knee to the side of the man's head. Lying there, face up on the floor, finger's twitching, the man considered himself defeated.

Wrath did, too. He took a knee next to the man, his hand pulling the man's face up to his by the hair. "You work for Vicious. What does he want?"

The man, wincing from the pain, looked like a pathetic, defeated fool who should be begging for his life. The begging might've worked too, if he had even attempted it. "Fuck you, traitor!"

Wrong answer.

Jet stood over the man, who was panting helplessly on the floor. His automatic rifle had been tossed across the room. Now the only gun visible was Jet's, pointed down at the man's head. A smile crossed Jet's lips momentarily before the loud blast tore through the air, leaving the man's face stained with his own blood.

As Jet's reverted his eyes away from the spray of blood, he caught sight of a pair of sunglasses on the floor. He bent to pick them up. They were a little banged up, but they looked pretty expensive. That wrath guy might want them back.

He pocket the sunglasses and headed out the door. At first, he tried to run, but was painfully reminded of the bullet lodged in his leg, courtesy of Wrath. He limped the rest of the way.

As he came back in to the main part of the floor, he saw Wrath, staring thoughtfully out of the decimated entrance to the seemingly abandoned hotel. He stood over a corpse with a hole in it's head. Wrong answer indeed.

"Hey, man. You dropped your sunglasses."

When the man turned around, Jet could feel the bullet tearing through his heart, ripping all sense of reality from him. His world went crashing down around him. He was sure he was dead before he could even hear the gunshot. He looked down at his chest. There was no blood. He looked back up. No - he had not been shot by a gun. Two eyes, colors mismatched, had sent the bullet of shock through Jet's body.

"Spike!?"

A/N: So, did I get anyone? I didn't ruin the surprise with all my lengthy Author's Notes? I hope not. And, this really does seem incomplete without the song. I'll probably repost it when I think of one, or until I hire someone to think of them for me.

And no "To My Reviewers" tonight, folks. No reviews - I posted two chapters at once. A feeble attempt to make up for the time lost.