~Fallen Seraphim~
~Disclosure~
The ground streaked by at a dizzying rate as Spike maneuvered the Swordfish II above the partially destroyed buildings and craters. Glancing down at the HUD, he slowly eased up on the throttle until the coordinates came into view. Over flying the area once, he circled around to come in to land.
Bringing the fighter about, Spike spotted the Redtail parked about a hundred feet from the crest of the hill. Swinging the fighter around, he engaged the downward thrusters. The fighter slowed and came to rest; hovering about twenty feet above the ground. The fighter slowly began to descend, the landing gear extending from the undercarriage. The landing gear came into contact with the ground and groaned in protest as the mono-racer came to rest on the three protruding struts.
Flicking the release on the cockpit, the armored ring around the monopod rose slowly from its resting place around the cockpit. As the ring locked into place, the seals on the pod released, the sudden decompression causing Spike's ears to pop. I hate Earth. He wasn't exactly sure what it was about the blue sphere that bothered him so; but it did. Maybe it's the smell?
Ignoring his annoyance with the planet, Spike pulled himself from the cramped cockpit and surveyed the surrounding area. Off to his left and right were rows of houses; well, they were houses at one point. It was probably a tract when they were originally built; but the meteorites had made short work of them.
Looking towards the front of his fighter, he saw an area that most likely held a house at one point in time, but that time was years ago. All that remained were the shattered remnants of a fountain and a fence that surrounded the property; and the gate was open.
Spike dropped to the ground, a rather audible thud coming from his soft soil as his feet collided with the dirt. His right hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed and found its way into his pocket. Step after step, he casually made his way into the desolate ruins. His eyes taking in every detail, the slight indentations in the ground where feet had once traveled, one set of prints had been wearing heels. So Faye is here. That means Rollins…or Seraph, or whatever the hell his name is, is here too.
The soft, barely audible sound of footsteps came to his ears. Glancing in the direction of the sound, a female figure slowly rose from the ground, a purple-haired female figure. Faye…she doesn't know that Rollins is wanted…this probably isn't going to be pretty…
"Spike? What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded as soon as her eyes found her comrade. Spike opened his mouth to reply, but quickly choose against it when he saw the man following Faye. Dark hair, slender face, no doubt about it, it was him. Seraph's eyes narrowed when he saw Spike, a slight tinge of recognition flashed through them before they became impassive. Spike's eyes fell to his clothing; the man stood before him rather well dressed considering the occasion. Dark dress slacks and a slightly ruffled dark blue shirt, a black jacket over it.
"Faye, get away from him," Spike's voice retained its casual air, but the undertones hinted of danger.
"What?"
"I said get away from him."
"Oh, so now you're jealous," Faye grinned slightly. Spike groaned at the absurdity of the statement. I don't need this. Spike's hand slid from his pocket to the handle of his pistol. In one smooth motion, the handgun came from under his jacket and its sights were leveled on the man standing barely fifteen feet away. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm giving you one chance, get away from him right now Faye," Spike's voice dropped dangerously low, his words forced through clinched teeth. Faye turned from Spike to look at Rollins, seemingly considering her options. What the hell is going on here? She wouldn't do this for anyone… Faye turned back to Spike, her jaw set tight. Then she did something Spike would always remember; she drew her gun. Spike flinched slightly…the damn woman's lost her frickin' mind.
"I'm gonna ask you once; what the hell is going on Spike?" Her question, pointed and direct as always, hung in the air, the tension seemingly slowing any answer he could formulate.
"Why are you protecting him?"
"He's my brother."
Well now, this is getting interesting. "Your brother? I kinda doubt that." Spike scoffed at her answer.
"Oh? And why's that?"
"Because you don't even know his real name." Faye's brow furrowed, she knew what was coming. He had an ace up his sleeve and she knew there was nothing she could do but play along.
"His name…is Michael," she answered softly, with as much confidence as she could force into those four words, but she knew it wouldn't hold up.
"His name is Seraph," Rollins' right hand slipped under his jacket at the sound of that name. "At least, that's what his code name is, they don't even know the real one. And he's worth fifty million woolongs," Faye stood silently, her gun still aimed at Spike, but the barrel was slowly descending. Spike watched as her eyes glazed over, as she withdrew into her own mind. He knew what he just did to her. She must have seen something…anything that would have convinced her that he truly is her brother. And I just pulled the rug right out from under her.
That's when he noticed Seraph…shit; he's going for a gun…now or never. "Faye, move."
"I…"
"Faye, move now!"
She spun to look at Seraph. He pulled his hand swiftly from within his jacket, a black Beretta 92 gripped in it. My God, I know that gun! It actually is him! Faye's eyes widened when she saw the weapon; she tried to pivot to bring her gun around but it wasn't quick enough. But her movement gave Spike enough clearance. He fired.
The bullet impacted on his right shoulder, entering just underneath his collarbone. The metal shredded the muscle and exited his back, breaking through the shoulder blade. Seraph's arm jerked to the side, his finger depressing the trigger. His weapon recoiled, the wild shot striking Faye's upper left torso, just barely missing her lung. The impact caused her to lose her balance. She stumbled backward, struggling to remain standing, when her foot slipped out from under her and she tumbled to the ground. Seraph staggered backwards, trying to move his arm. Grimacing, he forced his wounded arm to take aim at Spike. Spike meanwhile, hadn't lost sight of his target.
"Let's finish this now," Spike spoke threateningly, his left eye twitching slightly.
"Not here," Seraph shifted his weight and with a speed surprising even Spike, his left hand pulled something from his jacket and hurled it at Spike. The small object exploded, a searing white light filled the sky. Spike dove to his side, sliding to a halt behind a piece of rubble. Waiting a few seconds, the light gradually resided and he cautiously leaned around the debris to see…absolutely nothing.
Picking up a small rock, Spike tossed it a few feet to his left and waited. The only sound was the soft, labored breathing of his wounded comrade. Pushing himself off the ground, Spike took another cursory survey of the area. Seeing nothing, he made his way over to Faye. She was still lying face up on the ground, her eyelids partially closed. As Spike's shadow passed over her face, her eyes slowly slid open. "What took you so long?" she breathed, her voice raspy.
"Will you shut up and pass out already, you're much easier to deal with unconscious," Spike answered, crouching next to her. Pulling down her jacket, he could see where the bullet entered, but he needed to check if it was still in there. Gingerly placing his hands underneath her back and neck, he rolled her on to her side. He glanced up at her face when he heard a sharp intake of air. "This might hurt a little."
"Lunkhead," she muttered and Spike turned his eyes back to the wound. The bullet had exited at her upper back leaving a clean hole. Weighing his options, Spike quickly went to the task of removing the red jacket. "You're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"
"I dunno, are you thinking that I'm gonna use your jacket to dress your wound?"
"Yeah."
"Then you're right."
"Spike, why don't you use yours? I'm a woman, my clothes need to be maintained at a higher standard…meaning they don't get drenched in blood!" she winced slightly as he pulled the jacket off her torso.
"Look, when I get shot up, use my clothes. When you get shot up, we use yours. Alright?" Spike wrapped the jacket around her shoulder and her neck, hoping that it would keep enough pressure on it to keep the bleeding to a minimum. Faye groaned in response, her eyes returning to their half-open, half-closed state. "Do you think you can walk?"
Silence ensued the question. Spike glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing somewhat shallow, but for the most part it had returned to normal. Great, she's conscious long enough to complain and now I get to do all the heavy lifting. He lifted her up in his arms, trying to keep from moving her wounded appendage. Her head flopped gracelessly to one side, coming to rest on his shoulder. Spike let out a soft groan at the pure irony of the situation. He quickly made his way to his ship before he realized that this was not going to be a comfortable trip. Spike stood staring at his single person cockpit and contemplating the possibility of cramming one tall lanky bounty hunter accompanied by his unconscious, wounded, and bleeding partner when he came to the only logical conclusion: call Jet.
And while the green haired bounty hunter pleaded his case, a small doll lay amidst a pile of rubble; unknown and forgotten.