~Fallen Seraphim~
~Rage and Chance~
Silence had enveloped the duo, along with everything else within earshot. The two bounty hunters wandered throughout the desolate, moonlit streets of Aruba city. Despite the rather large scene the two had created, they both managed to make a hasty and most important, unnoticed, retreat before the wailing sirens managed to reach the bar. Even though they managed to make a clean get away, it seemed that Faye decided that she would blame Spike for the entire incident, the way she ended up with a beer stain on her sweater, how she managed to break a nail, how she got a black eye, and how…
"…Women are gentle creatures! We aren't supposed to be in bar brawls! You aren't even supposed to hit a woman! Didn't those idiots have any idea of common decency?"
Did I say silent? I'm meant it seemed like silence had enveloped the entire city because you couldn't hear a goddamn thing other than that noisy woman! "I had a feeling that as soon as you decked a few of them, they kinda started to regard you as less of a woman and more of a threat."
Faye's head snapped towards him, her eyes becoming small slits. "Less of a woman? Less? Are you saying I'm losing my sex appeal?"
I don't need this…"All I'm saying is…yes, you're losing your sex appeal." I feel better now.
"Listen here Spike Spiegel! I was the best looking person in that bar and I don't need to hear anything from you about how I look! If I needed fashion advice, I wouldn't ask it from you! Look at the green mop you call hair! If I looked like you I wouldn't even set foot outside!"
"Really now, it's a little hypocritical to be saying stuff like that when…" Unfortunately, Spike would never finish that phrase; it was a pretty good one though.
"Spike Spiegel?" a deep voice called.
Without even looking, and probably without thinking, Spike instinctively answered with the phrase that fits every occasion, "Piss off pal, I don't care." Then it dawned on him…he called me by name. Not good…Spike's left arm shot out, his hand hitting Faye's body and pushing as hard as it could. The movement sent Faye tumbling backwards in the opposite direction of Spike who also went to the ground, but by choice.
The sound of a gunshot rang out though the empty streets…great, just what I need…Spike's hand flew into his coat and reappeared a second later with his gun in hand and aimed at the man in the street, now holding a smoking gun. Head shot? Too chancy…center mass…and as if training kicked in, Spike's finger pulled the trigger three times, each bullet screaming from the tip of the gun and towards the target. The first hit just above the sternum, the other two hitting the chest. The impact sent the man flying off his feet and slamming into the ground.
Spike let out a small grin, and if given the time would have kicked himself for the sentiment. But time was something he didn't have much of as he jumped to his feet and made a mad dash towards an alleyway, bullets filling his wake. Diving into the alley, he skidded to a stop and rolled behind a dumpster, the sounds of bullets impacting the metal dumpster making him wish he had stayed in bed this morning. Bad move Spike, you just put yourself in an easily attackable position with one exit. Spike's eyes darted around the small alley with a small hope of finding an escape route, but the alley ended a few yards from his current position. Fire escape…I'll be a sitting duck going up it…but…a quick survey of his surrounding confirmed that there were no other options…next stop, heaven or hell.
Deciding to take his chances, Spike bolted from his hiding place and sprinted for the highly hoped for haven. A few feet from the hanging ladder, he jumped, his hands grabbing hold of the bottom rung. A surge of adrenaline shot through his body and he pulled himself upwards using mere upper body strength. Bullets impacted the walls and metal around him, yet miraculously, none of them managed to hit him. Quickly reaching the top, he jumped over the small ledge surrounding the roof and dropped to the floor…then he realized he wasn't alone
Looking up, he saw one of the gun-totting thugs standing no more than a foot away. Their eyes met and the thug began to bring his gun up. Moving instinctively, Spike swept his leg out in a long arc, colliding with the thug's leg and sending him down on his back. Grabbing his pistol, Spike jammed the barrel underneath the man's chin.
"You gonna be a good boy?"
"Bite me, assho-" Spike pulled the trigger, his gun recoiled and sent the pea-sized brain that had been formulating a sentence across the roof. What the hell is going on? Who are these guys…Spike's mind was reeling, then it snapped into place…the Brotherhood.
The sharp twang! of a ricochet jolted Spike back to reality and he glanced down at the body before him…huh, Car-15, that'll work…and without a second thought, Spike holstered his pistol and grabbed the assault rifle. Moving to the edge of the roof in a crouched shuffle, Spike leaned up against the small wall surrounding the roof. The sounds of gunshots and the chaos surrounding it filled the night air…but the mood suddenly changed.
"Goddamn it! Mother-" the phrase wasn't finished, but Spike knew where it was going and who it came from. Faye Valentine. The woman who never shut up, but if she did, something serious was about to go down. Peeking over the edge of the building, he could see a half-circle of men carrying assault rifles approaching a single crouched figure searching for a spare magazine. Shit…she doesn't give up, she runs outta ammo.
Glancing around roof, he looked for something he could use as a distraction, when he saw the body. Scurrying over to the body, he searched the lifeless corpse for anything that could create a distraction…and he found what he was looking for. A mischievous grin spread across his face when he saw the flash-bang hanging on the man's vest. Grabbing the body, he pulled it towards the edge of the roof and removed the vest. Grabbing two of the flash-bangs off the vest, Spike pulled the pins on both grenades but continued to hold the handles. With a quick glance downward to see one man moving closer to the crouched figure, Spike shoved the body over the edge of the three-story building. Releasing the handles, he dropped both grenades a split second after the corpse and ducked back behind the edge.
He heard a sickening thud as the body slammed into the ground and a few stifled gasps followed by the explosions. The two flash-bangs did exactly what they said they would, make an extremely bright flash and an extremely loud bang designed to fry the senses of anyone dumb enough to look at them. Thankfully, they were. Spike jumped from his crouch and brought the stock to his shoulder, his left hand steadied his aim and his right pulled the trigger…
…Now I've seen a few blood baths in my life, I never particularly cared for them but they came with the job. Not every bounty decides to go in easy. Not every creditor takes no for an answer. But somehow, despite my "choice" in lifestyle, I never had to kill anyone. I sure as hell shot people, but I'm not the grunt. I'm the sex appeal. Spike was the muscle, and he was flexing it right now.
Spike seemed to have a penchant for violence. I kinda doubt that he enjoys it, he usually ended up with too many holes, but I'm not completely sure he doesn't like it. When you're in a shoot-out with some one, you see what they are really made of. Either they can't take the trauma of even being involved or they managed to save both your asses and come out victorious. Spike is the personification of column B. The man is friggin' McGuyver! He could take out twenty guys with a bullet, a Zippo, and a cigarette. Granted he'd take the more difficult route of taking out the guys with one bullet and saving the cig to light up afterward, but it's results we're looking for.
But this was different somehow…Spike's previous fights with anybody seemed to contain nothing more than amusement. That stupid smirk always gave it away. That grin was plastered on his face while he kicked the crap outta anything that strayed into his path. That was the Spike I knew…the Spike I knew before he fought Vicious.
When Spike fought Vicious, it was as if a rage broke loose from within, a hidden demon cast deep within the shadows of his mind, and he fought in a way nearly unrecognizable to me. Sure he still had the flair, the flowing and fluid motions, but you could see within the graceful movements that there was something underneath waiting to break free. It seems like the demon is still there.
Like I said before, blood baths are not uncommon in my chosen profession, but those caused by Spike always held something deeper. As the flash-bangs detonated and the shooting started and the bodies started falling, you just knew something was wrong. Standing atop the building holding an assault rifle was the unmistakable silhouette of Spike holding an assault rifle. His torso jerked backward as each bullet fired, the recoil jamming the stock into his shoulder, yet his face appeared detached from entire event. Almost as though the sounds from below weren't reaching him. Almost as though the death and destruction below didn't matter.
Almost as though it wasn't Spike.
And to be honest, it scared me…
…Silence fell over the streets once more, the noise of bullets, casings, bolts, and the screams of men echoed into oblivion. Spike's hands remained wrapped around the gun, his grip refusing to let go. He knew everyone on the ground was either dead or dying, but he never gave them that second chance to get even…he'd seen it happen before. People he knew in the Syndicate, shot in the back by a man lying in a pool of his own blood. That's why he stood there, his sights still set on the bodies lying in the street. He knew the authorities would hear about this, they always did. But by the time they got out of their doughnut shops and got their lazy asses to the crime scene, both he and Faye would be long gone.
Faye…I seem to get into more trouble with that woman around than any other time in my life…she's like a magnet for this kinda stu-
Bang!
The assault rifle recoiled and the movement from below stopped. The guy who was reaching for…something just ended up being a corpse. You don't take chances in this kind of work…you rely on luck and you just end up dead. The far off wail of sirens floated across the still night air…the same air that reeked of gunpowder and blood. I'm a walking chance…the Brotherhood is looking for me; these guys are proof…if you rely on chance…everyone gets dead…time to move.