See You Space Cowboy..
I do not own ANYTHING related to the masterpiece known as Cowboy Bebop. I also do NOT intend to make money doing this! Thanks. ^_^ I do not own ANYTHING related to the masterpiece known as Cowboy Bebop. Thanks. ^_^ Note: * denotes thoughts of Vicious, and ~ denotes voices in his head.
Chapter III: Salt Of The Earth
*Cross..cross. Killed with a cross in her body..all holiness is gone.* The increasing pain of the searing beams of solid light came over him. He was overtaken. All hope had now fleeted, and his assailants were slowly gripping his thin neck tightly, depleting all sources of vitality. With a dazed and exasperated disposition, his pupils shook in their in irises as he struggled to make out the ever waning surroundings.
A haunting display came before him and engulfed his sense of sight. The dragon was below him once more. He thought of it as an omen; an extremely ominous one at that. In a wave of frustration mingled with horror he swung his palm back and gazed as a florid, crimson liquid pooled beneath him. *A river of blood..* Indeed it was his own blood. It formed easily and almost hungrily to the crevices of the archaic carvings. Though he had truly become a murderer, he had yet to realize its treacheries; especially the ones that would be inflicted upon himself in the process.
"It is said, Vicious," the well toned figure called heartily, "That when the blood of a beast touches the Ryu, a new age for the Syndicate will begin. Let us hope that it is a good one."
From beneath the muscular figure, the balcony suddenly erupted in smoke. In turn, a large fragment of it lowered itself along a deep crevice in the metallic wall. Even with the slightest provocation of air movement, the gi would always billow. The flames seemed to be real as they boasted the intensity of a somewhat harsh master. Upon the man's deep tanned face, a grin spread about. At last, the transportation unit met the floor. At once, Vicious rose, staining his hand in the blood from his katana. With a blinding flare of light, Vicious dove forth once and came off at a top-speed dash. The fight had verily begun as the blade razed through the close air.
As this happened, the man's arm lashed forth and a shining pistol was gripped between his fingers. With two sharp clicks, the man fell to his back and smirked as Vicious flew over head. For a fleeting moment, Vicious' piercing gaze caught a glance at the sparkles coming to him. ~Always fleeing into your own fucked up world, Deimos.~ This time he could not think. The greatest pain he could imagine had reared its fierce head back and impaled itself through his abdomen. Ever grinning, ever loathsome, the man's eyes followed Vicious as he eventually was brought down into the transportation unit.
"I am known as Maozezung," he said as his voice was coated with satisfaction. The pistol had taken its leave as soon as it had arrived, and Maozezung slowly approached Vicious' seemingly passed on heap of life known as his body.
All he could do was stare forward as the slow fatigue of blood loss laid itself upon him. His blood had closed itself about Maozezung's feet like syrup, and above himself, he heard a deep laugh. And with that laugh came the view of many bloody, floating crosses. Upon those crosses were ravens. Endless ravens with those sickly eyes. Then, he saw himself. He was chained upon one of them. Surrounded and taken by force to the hands of the enemy. Droplets of blood rushed by and were accompanied by insane laughs. The glass shattering call of a mutilated and abused woman came from the darkness, and he found himself ever wondering if this all would end.
"You are in the Syndicate. I suggest you patch yourself up. It will not be easy, let me assure you. Foes of an endless caliber of power will await you. And I will never guide you."
His body was floating. And then.. It crashed down into a pair of hulking arms.
"Maozezung, sir. The ship has landed. We have reached the disastrous 'Earth.' You always speak so much of it, but I will not see it. Please lead your friends on!" A hurried voice called out from the depths of Vicious' mind. It snapped him up, and once again, the world was twisting; tampering with his fragile mind. They will never cease to abuse my mentality, will they? He thought to himself.
Unable to grasp the current circumstances of the environment, his face turned into a whole-heartedly shocked expression as his bare feet met the terrible soil of Earth. But he had company. He felt his shoulders being ripped softly. The ravens were there. Other than the accompany of beasts, he noticed Maozezung's shadowed body before him. Long, black strands of tussled hair were blowing about carelessly in the dank wind. And very soon it came to pass that Maozezung was not the largest thing there; a monstrous, faded church of old was imbedded into the dilapidated sands. As he scanned the archaic work of years past, he noticed the struggling attempt to cling to life by the surrounding vegetation, which was also faded and aged. The sky remained a tint of deep blueish-purple, and more winds made the whole ordeal uncomfortable. And in the chief tower of the church, he saw a breathtaking stain-glass window which was decorated with details beyond count.
He was shuffled along the barren soil until his cold feet met an ice-cold, tiled floor. Sharp pains shot through his body as he entered, and the ravens jeered as bursts of holiness attempted to grab them. Atop statues they perched themselves, and they called out softly as their master was lead down an aisle tightly held together by similar statues on either side.
Odd rays of light were pouring in through each window that flashed aside his face. Head down, Vicious did not question what incentive Maozezung had.
Pillar upon cracked and smashed pillar rose up all about them and ended in marvelous twists and intriguing designs. Like a tormented school child, Vicious stared up at the art. Angels that seemed to be somewhat dismembered had been carved into the pillars, and they held up a long platform that spread from wall to wall across the cavernous halls.
Soon, the floor's temperature had gone beyond freezing as Vicious was thrown upon a towering set of stairs. About them were many figures of insidiousness that were tyrannical to Vicious, who gripped the stairs for dear life. As he looked down, a pedestal with a torn Bible was erected from the stairs. Behind his flowing, gray hair were flames lit anew that heated his bare back to a reasonable temperature.
Out of the shadows, Maozezung appeared with three, dwarf-like men, whose faces were wrinkled with knowledge. Simultaneously, they walked forth, each holding a golden cross on high, and their chants became present to Vicious. He desperately fingered for his katana; for any support; but naught was there.
He was surrounded by the three men, who were lost in their sayings. A swift blow from behind sent Vicious to his stomach, and he laid before the rippling flames. *So, this is the end.. And it is to be a holy one.. How ironic..*
Then silence screamed. The crosses clanged down deathly close to his face. Cold fingers forcefully held his arms above the crosses, and a blade parted his skin, allowing his blood to pour upon them.
The shadows had taken him. He had been defeated. As the flames faded; as everything flowed into ripples of madness, he could only chuckle silently at his own foolishness.
I do not own ANYTHING related to the masterpiece known as Cowboy Bebop. I also do NOT intend to make money doing this! Thanks. ^_^ I do not own ANYTHING related to the masterpiece known as Cowboy Bebop. Thanks. ^_^ Note: * denotes thoughts of Vicious, and ~ denotes voices in his head.
Chapter III: Salt Of The Earth
*Cross..cross. Killed with a cross in her body..all holiness is gone.* The increasing pain of the searing beams of solid light came over him. He was overtaken. All hope had now fleeted, and his assailants were slowly gripping his thin neck tightly, depleting all sources of vitality. With a dazed and exasperated disposition, his pupils shook in their in irises as he struggled to make out the ever waning surroundings.
A haunting display came before him and engulfed his sense of sight. The dragon was below him once more. He thought of it as an omen; an extremely ominous one at that. In a wave of frustration mingled with horror he swung his palm back and gazed as a florid, crimson liquid pooled beneath him. *A river of blood..* Indeed it was his own blood. It formed easily and almost hungrily to the crevices of the archaic carvings. Though he had truly become a murderer, he had yet to realize its treacheries; especially the ones that would be inflicted upon himself in the process.
"It is said, Vicious," the well toned figure called heartily, "That when the blood of a beast touches the Ryu, a new age for the Syndicate will begin. Let us hope that it is a good one."
From beneath the muscular figure, the balcony suddenly erupted in smoke. In turn, a large fragment of it lowered itself along a deep crevice in the metallic wall. Even with the slightest provocation of air movement, the gi would always billow. The flames seemed to be real as they boasted the intensity of a somewhat harsh master. Upon the man's deep tanned face, a grin spread about. At last, the transportation unit met the floor. At once, Vicious rose, staining his hand in the blood from his katana. With a blinding flare of light, Vicious dove forth once and came off at a top-speed dash. The fight had verily begun as the blade razed through the close air.
As this happened, the man's arm lashed forth and a shining pistol was gripped between his fingers. With two sharp clicks, the man fell to his back and smirked as Vicious flew over head. For a fleeting moment, Vicious' piercing gaze caught a glance at the sparkles coming to him. ~Always fleeing into your own fucked up world, Deimos.~ This time he could not think. The greatest pain he could imagine had reared its fierce head back and impaled itself through his abdomen. Ever grinning, ever loathsome, the man's eyes followed Vicious as he eventually was brought down into the transportation unit.
"I am known as Maozezung," he said as his voice was coated with satisfaction. The pistol had taken its leave as soon as it had arrived, and Maozezung slowly approached Vicious' seemingly passed on heap of life known as his body.
All he could do was stare forward as the slow fatigue of blood loss laid itself upon him. His blood had closed itself about Maozezung's feet like syrup, and above himself, he heard a deep laugh. And with that laugh came the view of many bloody, floating crosses. Upon those crosses were ravens. Endless ravens with those sickly eyes. Then, he saw himself. He was chained upon one of them. Surrounded and taken by force to the hands of the enemy. Droplets of blood rushed by and were accompanied by insane laughs. The glass shattering call of a mutilated and abused woman came from the darkness, and he found himself ever wondering if this all would end.
"You are in the Syndicate. I suggest you patch yourself up. It will not be easy, let me assure you. Foes of an endless caliber of power will await you. And I will never guide you."
His body was floating. And then.. It crashed down into a pair of hulking arms.
"Maozezung, sir. The ship has landed. We have reached the disastrous 'Earth.' You always speak so much of it, but I will not see it. Please lead your friends on!" A hurried voice called out from the depths of Vicious' mind. It snapped him up, and once again, the world was twisting; tampering with his fragile mind. They will never cease to abuse my mentality, will they? He thought to himself.
Unable to grasp the current circumstances of the environment, his face turned into a whole-heartedly shocked expression as his bare feet met the terrible soil of Earth. But he had company. He felt his shoulders being ripped softly. The ravens were there. Other than the accompany of beasts, he noticed Maozezung's shadowed body before him. Long, black strands of tussled hair were blowing about carelessly in the dank wind. And very soon it came to pass that Maozezung was not the largest thing there; a monstrous, faded church of old was imbedded into the dilapidated sands. As he scanned the archaic work of years past, he noticed the struggling attempt to cling to life by the surrounding vegetation, which was also faded and aged. The sky remained a tint of deep blueish-purple, and more winds made the whole ordeal uncomfortable. And in the chief tower of the church, he saw a breathtaking stain-glass window which was decorated with details beyond count.
He was shuffled along the barren soil until his cold feet met an ice-cold, tiled floor. Sharp pains shot through his body as he entered, and the ravens jeered as bursts of holiness attempted to grab them. Atop statues they perched themselves, and they called out softly as their master was lead down an aisle tightly held together by similar statues on either side.
Odd rays of light were pouring in through each window that flashed aside his face. Head down, Vicious did not question what incentive Maozezung had.
Pillar upon cracked and smashed pillar rose up all about them and ended in marvelous twists and intriguing designs. Like a tormented school child, Vicious stared up at the art. Angels that seemed to be somewhat dismembered had been carved into the pillars, and they held up a long platform that spread from wall to wall across the cavernous halls.
Soon, the floor's temperature had gone beyond freezing as Vicious was thrown upon a towering set of stairs. About them were many figures of insidiousness that were tyrannical to Vicious, who gripped the stairs for dear life. As he looked down, a pedestal with a torn Bible was erected from the stairs. Behind his flowing, gray hair were flames lit anew that heated his bare back to a reasonable temperature.
Out of the shadows, Maozezung appeared with three, dwarf-like men, whose faces were wrinkled with knowledge. Simultaneously, they walked forth, each holding a golden cross on high, and their chants became present to Vicious. He desperately fingered for his katana; for any support; but naught was there.
He was surrounded by the three men, who were lost in their sayings. A swift blow from behind sent Vicious to his stomach, and he laid before the rippling flames. *So, this is the end.. And it is to be a holy one.. How ironic..*
Then silence screamed. The crosses clanged down deathly close to his face. Cold fingers forcefully held his arms above the crosses, and a blade parted his skin, allowing his blood to pour upon them.
The shadows had taken him. He had been defeated. As the flames faded; as everything flowed into ripples of madness, he could only chuckle silently at his own foolishness.