Hello everybody! I'm back with my updating! Wow! I wrote a lot of stuff
over the summer and I've been trying to put that up and ::gasp:: I almost
forgot about THIS story! *wipes finger at self* SHAME! SHAME! Anyway, here
it is! I hope that you enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I DON"T OWN COWBOY BEBOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A second later, Vicious was hit over the head with some kind of box. Vicious sat up, holding his head where the object had collided, and picked up the thing that had hit him. It was an instant potato mix, (those things are MIGHTY tasty!) "If you want food, you make it," Fadia said, sitting down with her soda. Vicious stared daggers at her, clenching the fist that was holding his head. "Don't give me that look," Fadia said with a smirk. "Or have you forgotten, I know your weakness?" Vicious cracked his knuckles, setting the box down.
"Just try it," Vicious growled.
"I'll be forced to if you don't stop looking at me like that," Fadia returned with a lighter toned growl. "I've learned a few things from you syndicate buddies since you got sent off to prison and you're asking for it."
"Oh really, what have my "buddies" taught you?" Vicious said, leaning back on the couch and examining the box for cooking instructions.
"Plenty," Fadia replied. "Like for one thing, if you look at somebody like that, it gives them the right to kick the crap out of you. Needless to say, I keep well-stocked medical supplies."
"The stubborn bitch eh?" Vicious said, heaving himself off the couch and walking into the kitchen.
"To the end," Fadia said, following Vicious and leaning against the kitchen wall. "You're not actually going to make that, are you?"
"No," Vicious said, giving her a sideways glance. "I figured that I would lure you into the kitchen and then make you make it for me. Now get cooking, I'm starving!"
"You never change, do you," Fadia said, turning to leave. Vicious grabbed her arm and she turned around and punched him square in the shoulder. She wore a look of shock on her face as he smiled and rolled his shoulder.
"Hey, that felt pretty good. Do it again." Vicious said, smirking at the look on Fadia's face. "Now then, are you going to get in there or am I going to have to show you how I dealt with people who gave me the look?" Fadia simply raised an eyebrow at this, not even the slightest worry in her eyes.
"Ok then," Fadia said. "Listen, I'm not up for making anything, I'm going to be leaving in about a half-an-hour anyway to meet with a consultant. Um, hold on a second." She walked out of the kitchen and went through one of the doors; Vicious guessed that she was going into her bedroom. When she came back, she was carrying a suitcase. She handed it over to Vicious. "Use this, go out and buy yourself some dinner."
"Is this my suitcase from before?" Vicious asked.
"Yah, I saved it for you, thought you might need it some time," Fadia said.
"I don't want this; this is that bastard Spike's money!" Vicious said, pushing the suitcase back at Fadia.
"Actually, it's the syndicate's money. Spike caught a huge bounty for them and he's been living off that ever since." Fadia said, holding the suitcase out for Vicious to take. Vicious looked at it with disgust, but accepted it.
"Fine then, I'll go out," Vicious said. He moved towards the door and Fadia plopped down on the couch in front of the TV. Vicious opened the case, took out few thousand woolongs, and set the case by the door. "How will I be able to get back in if you're not here?"
"There's a spare key under the mat," Fadia said, not taking her eyes off the TV. Vicious partially nodded and walked out the door. As it closed, Fadia looked over and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A week later, Vicious walked down the street, looking left and right for some kind of restaurant. He finally came across one of those restaurant/bar crosses and walked in. he sat down at the bar and waited for the bartender or a waitress or somebody to come over. Eventually, somebody came by with a menu. Vicious skimmed over it, ordered something, and then looked around the place.
It wasn't too crowded, there were about 20 tables in the place and about 6 of them were filled at random parts of the restaurant. Vicious turned around and crossed his arms on the bar, putting his head down on them. "What am I going to do?" Vicious thought to himself. How was he going to get a jog? His last one had been for Spike, and he'd found Vicious the mare- dick. Vicious just sat there, wondering what was next for him, his only skills were best suited for syndicate work, but would they take him back? It wasn't any secret that nobody liked him that much there. When he had taken over, he'd had to punish more people for looking at him the wrong way then ever before. "Maybe I'm the bastard," he thought to himself.
The restaurant door opened and a cool draft swept through the door, depleting the cigarette stink that clung to the place. Vicious didn't care though; he was too obsessed with wallowing in his own self-pity. When did he become like this? This is what friends do to you, what people do to you! They talk about their lives and you see all the wonderful things and relationships that they have, and it makes you realize how completely horrible you have it! Humans should be solitary creatures; depression would be depleted all over the world!
Vicious barley even noticed it when somebody sat down beside him at the bar. He lifted his head partially and looked straight in front of him. There was one of those huge room length mirrors on the wall behind the bar. "God you look pathetic Vicious!" he thought to himself seeing possibly the most grey thing that he'd ever seen starting back at him. How ironic that his reflection was surrounded by alcohol on both sides. After Vicious had left the Red Dragon, he'd become a severe alcoholic. It seemed all that he was good for at the time. At night going out and getting drunk beyond comprehension and waking up the next morning in a bed that he didn't recognize next to some of the ugliest women that he had ever seen, with hangovers like you wouldn't believe. He was quiet enough sneaking out that he'd never had to see those women again.
Still, he thought that he'd had hope when that anonymous "boss" had hired him as an assassin. He'd had something to do besides drink the nights away. But no, even that had turned out wrong. Everything always went wrong for him! Before Spike had come, he'd had a prominate position in the most powerful syndicate in the galaxy, he'd had Julia, but most of all, he'd had his pride. "Why doesn't God just kill me now?" Vicious mumbled to himself. But he wasn't the only one who'd heard himself.
"Well, well, if it isn't the drunken cripple!" a mocking tone said beside him. Vicious turned his head towards the voice and let out a frustrated groan in his head. Sitting beside him was a youth in his late teens with broad shoulders and dirty blonde hair that went to about the middle of his back. It was Trev. He'd been Vicious's lackey when Vicious was still part of the syndicate and had originally been Spike's underling. Trev had been assigned to serve under Vicious, judging on how Trev had acted towards him, kicking a screaming all the way.
Trev loathed Vicious, and had probably done a victory dance when Vicious had left. Vicious could tell by the gleam in his eyes now that he was more then happy to see Vicious looking like this. "How ya been buddy? Just got out of jail huh. When's your boyfriend getting out?" Trev said with an evil gleam in his eye and a smirk.
"Why're you here Trev?" Vicious growled.
"Well, first to see how pitiful you are," Trev said.
"Of course," Vicious said, in no mood for this kid.
"But really, I came to bring you back into the syndicate," Trev said with a look of disgust.
To be continued..
See you Space Cowboy!
Life is but a Dream2 0 0 0
DISCLAIMER: I DON"T OWN COWBOY BEBOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A second later, Vicious was hit over the head with some kind of box. Vicious sat up, holding his head where the object had collided, and picked up the thing that had hit him. It was an instant potato mix, (those things are MIGHTY tasty!) "If you want food, you make it," Fadia said, sitting down with her soda. Vicious stared daggers at her, clenching the fist that was holding his head. "Don't give me that look," Fadia said with a smirk. "Or have you forgotten, I know your weakness?" Vicious cracked his knuckles, setting the box down.
"Just try it," Vicious growled.
"I'll be forced to if you don't stop looking at me like that," Fadia returned with a lighter toned growl. "I've learned a few things from you syndicate buddies since you got sent off to prison and you're asking for it."
"Oh really, what have my "buddies" taught you?" Vicious said, leaning back on the couch and examining the box for cooking instructions.
"Plenty," Fadia replied. "Like for one thing, if you look at somebody like that, it gives them the right to kick the crap out of you. Needless to say, I keep well-stocked medical supplies."
"The stubborn bitch eh?" Vicious said, heaving himself off the couch and walking into the kitchen.
"To the end," Fadia said, following Vicious and leaning against the kitchen wall. "You're not actually going to make that, are you?"
"No," Vicious said, giving her a sideways glance. "I figured that I would lure you into the kitchen and then make you make it for me. Now get cooking, I'm starving!"
"You never change, do you," Fadia said, turning to leave. Vicious grabbed her arm and she turned around and punched him square in the shoulder. She wore a look of shock on her face as he smiled and rolled his shoulder.
"Hey, that felt pretty good. Do it again." Vicious said, smirking at the look on Fadia's face. "Now then, are you going to get in there or am I going to have to show you how I dealt with people who gave me the look?" Fadia simply raised an eyebrow at this, not even the slightest worry in her eyes.
"Ok then," Fadia said. "Listen, I'm not up for making anything, I'm going to be leaving in about a half-an-hour anyway to meet with a consultant. Um, hold on a second." She walked out of the kitchen and went through one of the doors; Vicious guessed that she was going into her bedroom. When she came back, she was carrying a suitcase. She handed it over to Vicious. "Use this, go out and buy yourself some dinner."
"Is this my suitcase from before?" Vicious asked.
"Yah, I saved it for you, thought you might need it some time," Fadia said.
"I don't want this; this is that bastard Spike's money!" Vicious said, pushing the suitcase back at Fadia.
"Actually, it's the syndicate's money. Spike caught a huge bounty for them and he's been living off that ever since." Fadia said, holding the suitcase out for Vicious to take. Vicious looked at it with disgust, but accepted it.
"Fine then, I'll go out," Vicious said. He moved towards the door and Fadia plopped down on the couch in front of the TV. Vicious opened the case, took out few thousand woolongs, and set the case by the door. "How will I be able to get back in if you're not here?"
"There's a spare key under the mat," Fadia said, not taking her eyes off the TV. Vicious partially nodded and walked out the door. As it closed, Fadia looked over and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A week later, Vicious walked down the street, looking left and right for some kind of restaurant. He finally came across one of those restaurant/bar crosses and walked in. he sat down at the bar and waited for the bartender or a waitress or somebody to come over. Eventually, somebody came by with a menu. Vicious skimmed over it, ordered something, and then looked around the place.
It wasn't too crowded, there were about 20 tables in the place and about 6 of them were filled at random parts of the restaurant. Vicious turned around and crossed his arms on the bar, putting his head down on them. "What am I going to do?" Vicious thought to himself. How was he going to get a jog? His last one had been for Spike, and he'd found Vicious the mare- dick. Vicious just sat there, wondering what was next for him, his only skills were best suited for syndicate work, but would they take him back? It wasn't any secret that nobody liked him that much there. When he had taken over, he'd had to punish more people for looking at him the wrong way then ever before. "Maybe I'm the bastard," he thought to himself.
The restaurant door opened and a cool draft swept through the door, depleting the cigarette stink that clung to the place. Vicious didn't care though; he was too obsessed with wallowing in his own self-pity. When did he become like this? This is what friends do to you, what people do to you! They talk about their lives and you see all the wonderful things and relationships that they have, and it makes you realize how completely horrible you have it! Humans should be solitary creatures; depression would be depleted all over the world!
Vicious barley even noticed it when somebody sat down beside him at the bar. He lifted his head partially and looked straight in front of him. There was one of those huge room length mirrors on the wall behind the bar. "God you look pathetic Vicious!" he thought to himself seeing possibly the most grey thing that he'd ever seen starting back at him. How ironic that his reflection was surrounded by alcohol on both sides. After Vicious had left the Red Dragon, he'd become a severe alcoholic. It seemed all that he was good for at the time. At night going out and getting drunk beyond comprehension and waking up the next morning in a bed that he didn't recognize next to some of the ugliest women that he had ever seen, with hangovers like you wouldn't believe. He was quiet enough sneaking out that he'd never had to see those women again.
Still, he thought that he'd had hope when that anonymous "boss" had hired him as an assassin. He'd had something to do besides drink the nights away. But no, even that had turned out wrong. Everything always went wrong for him! Before Spike had come, he'd had a prominate position in the most powerful syndicate in the galaxy, he'd had Julia, but most of all, he'd had his pride. "Why doesn't God just kill me now?" Vicious mumbled to himself. But he wasn't the only one who'd heard himself.
"Well, well, if it isn't the drunken cripple!" a mocking tone said beside him. Vicious turned his head towards the voice and let out a frustrated groan in his head. Sitting beside him was a youth in his late teens with broad shoulders and dirty blonde hair that went to about the middle of his back. It was Trev. He'd been Vicious's lackey when Vicious was still part of the syndicate and had originally been Spike's underling. Trev had been assigned to serve under Vicious, judging on how Trev had acted towards him, kicking a screaming all the way.
Trev loathed Vicious, and had probably done a victory dance when Vicious had left. Vicious could tell by the gleam in his eyes now that he was more then happy to see Vicious looking like this. "How ya been buddy? Just got out of jail huh. When's your boyfriend getting out?" Trev said with an evil gleam in his eye and a smirk.
"Why're you here Trev?" Vicious growled.
"Well, first to see how pitiful you are," Trev said.
"Of course," Vicious said, in no mood for this kid.
"But really, I came to bring you back into the syndicate," Trev said with a look of disgust.
To be continued..
See you Space Cowboy!
Life is but a Dream2 0 0 0