The Showdown
Vicious walked down the hall. It was only a matter of hours before his meeting with Spike, and there was much to do. Faye had recently been given a very strong dosage of the drugs, enough he hoped that she would resist him very little. As he walked, he smiled a bit. He was surprised, but he had come to like Faye while she was here. Too bad he'd still have to use her against Spike, and to his word, he'd let her go. Spike had been right about that - Vicious did not lie - at least not to Spike.
He looked down at the suit he was carrying. It was a full leather body suit - identical to the one Julia often wore. He knew that Faye would look fantastic in the outfit, but more importantly, she would look just like Julia, except for the difference in hair color.
Vicious opened the door and let himself into Faye's room. She was laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as though death itself had taken over her. "I have something for you, Miss Valentine."
Faye turned her head towards the voice that had entered her room. It sounded liked Spike, but upon further inspection, she realized it was Vicious. She was alert, although things in the room were moving, making her dizzy. With a smile, she asked, "Is that for me?" as she pointed to the clothing Vicious was carrying.
"It's for you," Vicious replied. He laid the outfit across the back of the chair and stepped up next to the bed. He leaned down and helped Faye into a sitting postion. "Can you change into for me? I want to see what it looks like on you."
Faye nodded, and let Vicious help her off the bed and into a standing position. She shimmed out of her clothing, caring little that Vicious was standing right there. She reached for the suit with her good arm, but realized there was no way she'd be able to pull it on without help. Still wearing only her undergarments, she turned to Vicious. "You're going to have to help me with this."
Vicious nodded, and took the suit from Faye. He hadn't anticipated that he'd have to dress her, and the act flustered him. He finally managed to pull the suit up on her - the act of which involved more touching than he had realized. By the time he pulled it over her shoulder, he was face-to-face with Faye.
Faye smiled softly. "Appreciated Vicious." She turned around, so that he could zip it up. Then she added the belt around her waist, leaning on him in the process. "What's the occasion?"
"I am taking you somewhere special. You do wish to have your revenge?" Vicious replied, placing his hands on Faye's waist. "After all, he's hurt you as much as he's hurt me." He guided Faye towards the door.
Faye thought about that for a moment. "You're speaking of Spike, aren't you?" She said - the words more an observation than a question. "Yes, he's hurt me. He hurts me, then he makes me feel better, then he hurts me again. It cycles. But you wish to see him killed." Faye's mind wasn't processing fast enough. "I don't think I do."
"I do wish to see him killed. I wish to kill him with my own hands," Vicious replied, walking Faye down the hallway. "He deserves it, after all he's done."
Faye nodded. "You never did tell me what that was." She felt like she was walking in a dream, and she knew that she was on drugs again. But she liked the way she felt, and the prospect of killing Spike were not lost on her. After all, Spike loved Julia - so what did she need him for anyway? Faye bit her lip at the thought of Julia. She liked the woman, now that they had spoken on better terms. Julia wouldn't be happy with her if she killed Spike.
Vicious didn't bother to enlighten Faye either. What was between Spike and he would die with Spike.
The pair entered the elevator, and Vicious pushed the button for the top floor. His craft was waiting there, and they would take it to the TransM building. Faye was leaning against him, and he wrapped one arm around her waist to stabilize her. It felt strangely weird and yet conforting to have her, dressed that way, so close to him. He could almost pretend she was Julia. Almost.
Together, they walked to the roof and Vicious helped Faye into the zipcraft. He doubted in her condition that her shot would even hit Spike, but Vicious was counting more on the dramatic effect of the action than its actually effectiveness at killing Spike. He would take care of that.
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Spike tied off the layer of gauze extra-tight. He couldn't afford for the wound to re-open again. Moving slowly and mechanically, he tugged on his pants and laced his boots. The yellow collared shirt came next, followed by the jacket. Fully dressed, Spike stood in his room, looking around the tiny compartment at the few belongings he'd accrued over the past three years.
The room was remarkably devoid of personality. No photographs of family or loved ones donned the walls, nor any posters or pictures of favorite places or scenes. A small dresser contained his limited wardrobe, and a much larger compartment held his private munitions and maintinence tools. Other than that ... small mounds of dirty laundry littered the floor, and an unmade bed sat unobstrusively in the corner. There was nothing here that marked the space as truly his - that tied him to the Bebop. It could have been a hotel room that he'd just been staying in for a long time. And it didn't matter how long he stayed. Like the hotel, it was temporary. Just another place to be while he was away.
It was time to go home.
Spike put a Jericho 941 into its customary holster, and hid a second one in an inner coat pocket. Another pocket he filled with pre-loaded magazines of 9mm ammunition. A half-dozen grenades were secreted about his body. God, he loved grenades - such useful things. There was also a single charge of a remote-detonate explosive, one that Spike had been saving for a rainy day. He grabbed it. Today it wasn't raining, but he supposed the was no use planning for the future. There might not be a future.
He closed the front of his coat and then stepped out of his room, giving the space one final glance before turning out the light for the last time.
A few minutes later, the hangar door opened and the Swordfish II flew up and vanished into the night.
On the table in the living room, a small table bore a single piece of paper. It read:
Jet-
Take care of Faye for me, and give Ein a little treat. Maybe Meifa will learn to loosen up, and maybe Cloria will resolve whatever's been bothering her. Take care of all of them for me. I don't think I'll be coming back.
It's been a good fight.
-Spike
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Vicious spent a few moments walking the perimeter of the roof, getting his bearings on what was there. Then he returned to where he had left Faye standing. She smiled at him, in her drugged stupor. "Vicious, is this really necessary? You could just run away from it all."
Vicious shook his head. "I can't run away. And neither can you. Spike will haunt us both until he's dead. You know I speak the truth."
Faye looked down at the gun in her hand. "You're right Vicious." She said, blinking a few times as she focused her vision again. "You were always right. When he comes, he will die."
With the dying whir of engines, a red zip craft settled on the far end of the TransM building's roof. It was rather hard to see. Dense fog blocked any light from the moon, so the only ambient lighting was the softly glowing reflection of the city lights off the low cloud cover.
Spike climbed out of the Swordfish and, vision enhanced by his special glasses, spotted a single figure on the rooftop.
Vicious.
A small object bounced out of the Swordfish, rolling to a gentle stop about two-thirds of the way to where Vicious was standing. Three seconds later the grenade exploded, gouging a deep hole in the rooftop and sending concrete, rebar, and other debris flying. Thick smoke blackened the air and provided cover as Spike ran away from the Swordfish and ducked behind a skylight.
Vicious saw the grenade hit the ground, and immediately grabbed Faye and dove out of the way. His plan wouldn't work very well if something happened to her first. He pulled Faye with him behind the wall of the stairwell building, before calling out to Spike, "Nice Entrance, Spike." One hand rested on his katana, while the other gripped Faye's arm. "Obviously, Faye, he cares little for your life." Vicious told the woman, hoping to use Spike's grenade trick against him.
Faye was in a complete daze as Vicious pulled her along with him. She simply followed where he went, but her eyes hardened as his words registered in her brain. "You're right. That grenade could have killed me as well." She glanced down and remembered the gun that Vicoius has given her, and resolved to herself that this night, Spike would die.
Through the haze of smoke, Spike spotted a human-shaped blur heading towards the stairwell. If Vicious got inside, then they'd be reduced to closed-quarters fighting and the swordsman would have the advantage. Up here in the open, the gunman was king.
He fired off two shots at the exact spot he remembered the doorway being. Keeping low, he ran forward, trying to stress his already-throbbing side as little as possible, then crouched down behind a pile of rubble only twenty feet from the stairwell.
The shots made loud clinking sounds as they rattled off the doorway. Spike was too close, and this was not going at all the way Vicious had planned. He would have to make use of Faye quickly. He realized that Spike didn't know she was there, although he wouldn't inform her of that revelation. He pulled Faye behind the small building. "Faye, I'm going to rush to the left and distract Spike. I want you to step out from behind this building and when you see him make a move for me, call out to him. Have your gun ready. Can you do that?"
Faye nodded, repeating Vicious's words softly to herself as though she needed to hear them twice in order to make sense of them. She leaned against the wall, and slid towards the end of the far side of the small building, opposite of the side she and Vicious were originally on.
Vicious turned then, and dashed out from the other side. He watched as Spike registered his movements and fired at him. Vicious dove behind another pile of rubble, his hand reaching for his katana. He could not get close enough to Spike yet, but hopefully Faye would provide that distraction.
As Faye watched Vicious run and Spike react, she stepped from her hiding place. Her gun was instantly in the air, the barrel pointed at Spike, although a good number of yards were between them and Faye's own vision lacked clarity. "Don't move, Spike," she said, her voice hard. Her feet were spread apart slightly, and both arms gripped the gun. The painkillers pumping through her body left her feeling little of the pain in her shoulder. The black leather suit softly reflected the overhead lights of the building, and her purple hair blew back in the breeze. She looked both beautiful and dangerous - the exact effect Vicious was hoping for.
At the sound of the voice, Spike stood - and froze. His eyes widened as his pupils shrank to near-imperception as he spied the outlines of the woman in the black skinsuit. For a moment, he could have sworn it was Julia, standing there, pointing that gun at him through the haze.
It was Faye, but the effect was the same. An unplacable emotion hit him almost tangibly, pinning him in place more firmly than any deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.
Faye Valentine. Faye, the one who the others were suppose to rescue. Faye, who'd told him she loved him through a cocktail of painkillers and babblejuice. Faye, who'd been a useful nuisance and shipmate all this time.
Faye, who wore wore her clothes and held her gun ... and, if he knew anything about the way Vicious' mind worked, stood in her place.
"Faye, get out of here," Spike said shakily, trying to remain calm. "You don't know what you're doing. Go!"
Faye hesitated. There was something about this situation that didn't feel right. She continued to stare at him, but the gun was shaking in her hands. "I know what I'm doing, Spike," she replied, her voice cracking softly. Just pull the trigger, she thought to herself, but try as she might, her fingers simply would not complete the request. Something held her back. She blinked a few times as though she was trying to clear her vision, when in reality she was trying to clear her mind. She suddenly felt like there was an important concept that she needed to know, but it was just out of her reach. She steadied the gun again.
As soon as Spike was distracted, Vicious stood back up. He took the opportunity to walk closer to Spike, although he didn't close the gap completely, preferring to leave some distance between them. "She knows exactly what she's doing." He said, a bit of playfulness in his tone as he echoed Faye's words. He was enjoying Spike's frustation as much as he'd enjoy Spike's death. His katana was still sheathed, but he was prepared to pull it out as soon as he needed too. He had a feeling Spike's attention would not stay on Faye much longer.
He briefly wondered if, just as Julia had, Faye would also fail to shoot Spike. It mattered little. He would be sure to finish off his ex-friend now. Between Spike's injuries, and the shock of betrayal, Vicious should have little problem defeating the man who was once his equal.
Spike whirled to look at Vicious, his face a mask of anger. "You've lost your touch, Vicious," he snarled. "Can't come up with anything original anymore. This is the second time you've sent a woman to do your dirty work for you. What's the problem, can't handle killing me yourself?"
Back to Faye, he raised his Jericho and levelled it at Vicious' head. At this range, he couldn't possibly miss - but he wanted his answer first.
"Faye has her own claim in the matter," Vicious said, as he watched Spike's hands more than his face. Vicious knew Spike well enough to know that he wasn't ready to shoot just yet, but he'd also be able to sense a change in that attitude by waiting for the moment Spike's hands tensed. "I simply brought her along for the ride." His leaned back a bit, his hand ready to pull out the katana. "You will die tonight - does it matter which of us kills you?"
Faye was visably shaking now, although no one was looking at her anymore. Second time Vicious had....? She blinked a few times. Did this have to do with Julia?
"There's more to it than that," Spike snapped. "You know this was between just us." The wind ruffled his hair and caught the edges of his overcoat so that they spread out behind him like wings.
"So that's it, isn't it," he continued darkly. "You don't have the guts to kill me. I guess we now know which dragon has lost its fangs. You want Faye to do it, and you're just going to watch."
The words tore through Vicious. He had not lost his fangs and he wouldn't stand for Spike saying anything of the like. "You should know better than any the guts I have, Spike. And you should know I'm the only one who can kill you - even if Faye tries." The words enraged him, and left him feeling on the defense, something that Vicious did not like.
Faye listened. There it was again - the-stay-out-this-it-is-just-between-us crap that Spike was constantly spouting. Damn him for saying that. "Damn you," she said softly. She lowered the gun, unsure now what she was supposed to do with it. She blinked again and noticed her vision was getting worse. "Spike." The voice was weak, but loud enough that it could be carried over the wind.
Out of the corner of his eye, Vicious noticed Faye's change in attitude. He would need to get her out of the way, so that he could kill Spike now - she was definately not going to do it, at least not without more prompting, something he had little time for. "Make your move Spike."
Spike was gratified to see the expression on Vicious' face in reaction to his words, and knew that they had hit home. Well, he'd press any advantage he could get. He'd have to, if he stood a chance of surviving.
Eyes and gun still focused on his enemy, he backed up protectively towards Faye, feet picking their way through the rubble by touch alone. "So if she won't do it, what are you gonna do, huh?" he said softly. "Kill her, since she isn't useful to you anymore? After all of your lies, I could see you doing that. Or maybe you'd kill her because you can't stand the thought of me happy with a woman when you're not - whether or not it's true." He wasn't going to discuss the far more personal reason why he'd come here so long as Faye was within earshot. Right now, her safety was the more pressing, important goal.
Half-healed wounds screaming in protest, Spike moved so quickly that he was a blur. He hooked his bad left arm around Faye's waist and slammed the both of them into a depression in the debris-littered ground, simultaneously firing off the shot he'd had lined up at Vicious' head. The shot was followed by two more. He rolled sideways up to his feet and crouched, ready.
Vicious only half listened to Spike words. He was focused on Spike's movements, waiting of the one that indicated he was about to attack. When he saw it, he moved, nearly at the same time Spike moved. The shots whizzed by his head, but missed. Vicious watched as Spike grabbed Faye, just before he slid behind a pole.
He decided not to worry about her for now. There would be time later, but first he needed to get Spike into closer quarters, where his Katana would do some good. His eyes focused on the stairwell again. He wouldn't make it if he just ran. He had to distract Spike first.
Faye gasped as Spike grabbed her. The gun went flying from her hand skidding across the pavement. "Shit," she muttered, as she tried to get up to go after it.
Vicious peered out from behind the pole. He could barely see Spike, and if he could distract him long enough to make a run for the stairs, Spike would follow. He pulled a throwing knife out of his pocket and threw it at the part of Spike he could see.
Faye stumbled, and tripped over Spike. Her eyes widened in pain as the throwing knife, meant for him, found her own chest instead. She screamed, reaching up to clutch her chest as she fell to the ground.
Vicious's eyes widened. He had not intended to hit Faye, but the mistake would provide the distraction he needed. He took off for the stairs, flinging open the door.
"Dammit!" Spike swore, torn between rushing to Faye's side and following Vicious. Faye was injured, but chest wounds were either fatal or insignificant. Either way, he couldn't help her. Rising to his feet, he fired off a shot after Vicious and rushed to the stairs.
Faye watched as Spike rushed after Vicious. She rolled onto her back and stared at the stars as they danced across her plain of vision. She reached up and felt the knife. It didn't seem to be hurting her, but she wasn't ready to get up. "How could he have left me here," she said softly.
Vicious reached the bottom of the stairs in time to hear Spike opening the door. He turned the corner, waiting for Spike to come down the stairs. The smaller halls would make it easier for him to get close to Spike.
Spike practically flew down the stairs, pausing on each landing to look for Vicious. When he finally did spot his quarry, he stopped and fired twice directly towards Vicious' heart. He had to stop Vicious before he got close - if the other man neared, his whirling sword would dice him to pieces in no time.
Vicious dodged, the bullet grazing his left arm. He ignored it, and took that moment to lunge towards Spike his katana swinging. He was definately ready to end this. It was time for Spike to die.
Spike ducked under the sword, firing up at Vicious. At that moment, however, he tripped and rolled down the flight of ten stairs. At the next landing, he wound up on his back, head propped up against the concrete wall.
He got off three shots at the descending Vicious, then jumped straight to his feet and ran down the next length of stairs, reloading his Jericho. That last attack had gotten too close to his head for comfort.
System flooded with adrenaline, he braced himself against the wall and waited for Vicious. The entire world seemed like it was playing in slow-motion. The danger of the situation was like a euphoric, and the fact that his opponent was Vicious only heightened the high. This was what he'd been waiting for, these past three years. Finally, he was awake.
The bullets seemed to pass him by in slow motion, each one so close to ending his life. This was the game he had waited for. There was no better opponent than Spike. He rushed down the stairs staying close to the wall. Spike's gun had a range that his katana did not, but Vicious was not worried. If he could get close to Spike, he would win, and the stairwell made distance shooting difficult.
He jumped around the next rail, and through the middle of the stairs could see that Spike was waiting for him on the next platform. He pulled out another knife, and turning the corner, threw it towards Spike.
Spike jerked sideways, but the knife still cut across his brow and temple before clattering off the wall behind him. A trickle of blood started to obscure his left eye. He started to back down the stairs, aware of how dire his situation was. His opponent not only had a melee weapon in close quarters, but had the higher ground as well. Halfway down the flight, he fired again.
Wiping blood out of his eyes, he glanced upward. There was a plain steel door, and painted on it the number 59. If he was on the fifty-ninth floor, he had a long way to go before he reached the ground. Spike whirled and grabbed the handle of the door. It was unlocked, so he ran through blindly.
The bullet grazed his check as he turned his head to avoid it. Blood rushed from the newly formed wound, but Vicious ignored it. He could hear the sounds of a door opening and closing, and realized that Spike had left the stairwell. He continued down, stopping only long enough to retrieve the knife. He didn't have many with him.
Once down the stairs, he pushed the door open, then rolled to the ground. He had no idea where Spike was, but he didn't want to get hit with a bullet to the head. He ducked behind a ceiling support, his katana still in his hand. "Running away won't end this, Spike," he called out.
Fifty feet down the hallway, Spike fired at Vicious, this time aiming for the hand that held the katana. "I ran away once already," he shot back. "I'm not going to again." He ducked behind a cubicle, keeping low, and lost himself in a maze of desks, chairs, and potted plants.
The bullet hit Vicious in the hand, knocking his katana to the floor. He reached to pick it up with his left, and although he was competent with both hands, he was far stronger with his right. He needed to close the distance between himself and Spike. Rushing down the hallway, he turned into the room he could hear Spike in, and slashed at the desks with his Katana. He was feeling enraged now - nothing would stop him from killing Spike.
His hand was bleeding, and broken, but even then he reached into his coat and pulled out a throwing knife. He saw the glint of Spike's gun, and threw the knife, although he was sure his aim would suffer from the injury. As soon as the knife left his hand, he dove behind a desk. "You should have never run in the first place."
"What, and give you the satisfaciton of winning?" The knive grazed the top of Spike's scalp. He stood up from behind the desk, and at point-blank range, buried a bullet in Vicious' stomach. Grabbing a fistful of papers off a desk, he wiped some of the blood off his face then turned and ran again, heading down an open corridor.
A gasp from a room revealed itself to be a janitor, working late. At the sight of the limping, bloodied, and armed man, the janitor abandoned his cleaning cart , dropped to the floor, and clutched his hands over his head. Spike ignored him. He didn't want any innocents to get hurt, but sometimes shit happened. He had to kill Vicious, and wouldn't make any allowances for anyone.
The bullet tore through Vicious, knocking him back, and he landed on the floor only to see Spike run off again. He laid there, dazed for a moment, wondering briefly why Spike hadn't simply killed him then. A thought crossed his mind, that as much as they wanted the other to die, it couldn't be that simple.
Only a moment's rest later with a fresh rush of adrenaline pumped through his body, Vicious pulled himself to his feet. He clutched his stomach, breathing hard. He wouldn't not go down unless Spike was going with him. He pushed a desk out of the way, and peered around the corner but he couldn't see Spike. He leaned against the doorjam and waited. Spike would come back, and he'd be ready. If he rushed out again, he'd be killed.
Only once Spike had entered the room did he realize that there was only one exit. He was trapped.
That, he thought with a smile as he reached into a pocket of his coat, was what grenades were for.
He pulled the pin and counted to three. Throwing the grenade out the door into the hallway, he ducked back behind the wall and covered his head with his hands, waiting for the blast.
Vicious could see the grenade rolling down the hallway. His reaction time was slow, but he managed to find a desk to hide behind as the grenade went off, blowing the room to bits. He covered his head as debris went flying. Damn Spike for not playing fair. The blast caused the papers in the room to burn, and soon fire was spreading through the floor. The sprinklers came on, but they were not fast enough to quench the spreading flames. Vicious dashed for the stairwell. He'd wait for Spike a few floors down.
Spike dashed through the flaming debris. The water from the ceiling only served to wash more blood into his left eye, and he quickly wiped it away. He reached the stairwell only seconds after Vicious did.
Vicious wasn't there - but Faye was. She'd started down the stairs but had fallen partway down. Blood pool under her chest, trickling down the stairs.
"Faye!" Spike exclaimed, rushing to her side. He rolled her over, desperately hoping she was conscious. "Hang in there, Faye."
Faye's eyes were closed but when she heard Spike's voice she opened them. She still had the gun in her hand, but she was too weak to hold it up.
"Spike..." she said softly, "I was supposed to kill you, but I don't want you to die." Haziness hit, and she had to close her eyes again.
Spike gently took the gun away from her and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. Carefully, he slipped his hands under her and lifted her up, then went back through the door into the madness of fire and rain. Somewhere in there, the janitor was screaming. Spike only knew that the elevator was at the end of the hall, beyond the wreckage, and that he had to get Faye out of here.
The wait for the elevator was interminable, but when it finally did arrive, he was cautious as he stepped inside. He laid Faye down on the floor, then hit the button for the lobby.
Spike crouched at Faye's side. He gently pulled a strand of hair back from her face. Although comatose, she really did look beautiful. "Don't worry about me. Just hang in there," he repeated softly.
Faye slowly opened her eyes again. She was having trouble breathing, and each breath seemed to hurt more than the one before. "Spike, you're hurt," she said softly, the words strained, as she reached up to touch the blood rushing down his face. "I can't help but worry." She stared up at him, her eyes showing more clearly now than ever that she loved him.
"You're gonna be alright," Spike said, gathering her up in his arms and holding her close. "You're gonna be alright." The repeating words were more to reassure himself than her. "I'm taking you out of here."
Faye nodded, "Spike, I'm sorry." She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against his chest. She felt happy then, in that moment, although she wasn't entirely sure why. She just wanted to rest, to sleep, and to stay there with him. "Come with me, Spike.."
The words struck a chord deep in his heart. He'd said the exact same thing to Julia, three years ago. She hadn't come with him then - and he couldn't come with Faye now.
He said simply, "I can't."
With a ping, the elevator reached the bottom floor and the doors slid open. Spike picked up Faye and stood, then carried her through the lobby and out onto the street. There was a park bench on the sidewalk, and he gently laid her down on it, hoping that someone, anyone, would come by and find her. He wanted to do more, but something more urgent called.
Face a mask of determination, Spike loaded a fresh magazine into his Jericho and went back inside.
Vicious was about to step out of the stairwell when he heard Faye coming down the stairs. Back against the wall, he listened as Spike picked the girl up and headed back onto the burning floor. Vicious concluded that Spike was taking her out of there, and that meant down to the lobby. He headed onto floor fifty-seven, and hit the elevator button.
He reached the lobby. Once glance outside told him Spike was still there with Faye, but Vicious fully expected his 'partner' would return. Only a moment later, Spike turned and headed back for the doors.
Vicious was waiting. As Spike stepped back into the room, his katana came down swinging at Spike's chest.
The sword sunk deep into Spike's chest, slicing through fabric, skin, and layers of muscle before it grated sickeningly across his ribcage. Before the pain could set in, Spike automatically brought his gun up and fired a single shot. The bullet flew off its mark, missing Vicious' heart and instead punching a hole through what he hoped was his enemy's left lung.
Or the shot could have gone wide entirely. Spike could barely see through the curtain of sweat and blood, so he had no idea. Exerting every ounce of willpower he had, he managed to stay partially upright long enough to stagger back out the door. Only then did he collapse into the bushes.
The pain from his chest was blinding, and standing fully upright was impossible. But Vicious was still out there, alive and looking for him. Spike raised a trembling wrist and punched three small buttons on his comm.
On the roof, the Swordfish's engines glowed into life. A moment later, the zip blasted up, then circled around the TransM building to land daintily on the street in front of it.
Spike limped to the spacecraft, desperately hoping with each step that a sword wasn't about to strike him in the back. He wasn't done yet. And no, he wasn't running away - just trying to even the odds. He hauled himself aboard.
Spike slumped against the controls, but forced himself to focus. The zip rose a few feet into the air, guns ready and aimed towards the lobby entrance. He didn't see Vicious anywhere, but he had to be someplace.
The bullet blew through Vicious's shoulder, knocking him down. He grabbed his Katana and pushed himself behind the lobby's couch. Clutching his shoulder, he took a few deep breaths. The pain was intense, but his heart still burned to see Spike die. He knew his katana had done damage, but how much he couldn't be sure. He was now fighting with multiple bullet wounds - stomach, shoulder, and hand - but he couldn't quit now. He didn't care if he died. Spike couldn't get away.
When he was sure Spike wasn't in the room, he forced himself to stand. He stumbled out of the building, in time to hear the engines of Spike's zip roar to life. Spike was trying to run! Vicious couldn't let that happen. He pulled out his own comm unit, and quickly started up his own zip. He looked up - Spike's zip was coming fast. Vicious dove into the bushes in time to watch as Spike pulled himself into the craft. He turned, and limped along the side of the building, hoping to get around before Spike saw him.
He must have been successful, because Spike was aiming his guns at the lobby. Vicious rounded the corner of the building, and leaned against the wall as he waited for his own craft to arrive. Once it had, he pulled himself aboard. Fighting to stay conscious, he lifted off, and coming around behind Spike, fired at the Swordfish.
How had Vicious' zip gotten behind him?? Spike took off, banking hard to the left as he passed the TransM building and jetted out over downtown. Circling around, he fired back at Vicious' craft. The line of bullets vanished into the night, and he was off again, heading out towards the edges of the city.
if I make a mess downtown, Jet will have my ass ... Somehow, the thought of Jet reaming him out for causing expensive damages cut through the adrenaline haze and caused him to smile.
Vicious lifted his own zip in the air and followed Spike. "I thought you weren't going to run!" he said through the comm device. He fired a missle at Spike's zip, but a quick manuver by his enemy caused the missle to crash into the nearest building. He didn't have many missles loaded - he'd have to be careful.
Spike dodged the missle, but just barely. As he flew over the river, he dropped his zip down low to fly under the narrow bridge that crossed it. Coming up over it, he performed a 180 and bored down on Vicious, guns opened to full.
Vicious watched as Spike turned around to come straight at him. He punched the button on his missle, this time aiming right at Spike, before trying to roll left. Spike's gunfire tore through his right wing, but he managed to steady himself. "Damn it," he muttered, as he watched the missle fly towards Spike's zip.
The missile impacted into the Swordfish's engines, which sputtered then died. Spike managed to get the landing gear down and bring the zip around over the bridge, although the emergency landing was anything but graceful.
The moment the zip came to a stop, he hopped out. He'd be a sitting duck if he remained in one place.
Vicious watched as Spike went down. This was his chance to end this. He manuvered his own zip, damaged from Spike's fire to land just off the bridge. He grabbed his katana and hobbled from the zip. Realizing that he was injuried badly, he briefly thought it would be best to just leave. "Spike. Let's finish this," he called out. The wings of his zip blocked his view, but he knew Spike was close.
Spike responded by firing three shots at Vicious, then running under a streetlight. opefully, Vicious' eyes would follow him. His opponent's night vision would be ruined, and for a few seconds Spike would be invisible against the darkness.
And a few seconds was all he would need.
The bullets clanked off the wings of his zip. When the sounds of gunfire ceased, Vicious stepped from behind the zip. He could see Spike running away, and knew this was his last chance before Spike got away. He leaned back against the craft, willing the last of his strength, before running after Spike. His left hand still held his katana, and in his broken right he pulled out another knife. He'd have to close the distance before either weapon did him much good.
Spike looked over his shoulder, and was surprised and alarmed to see that Vicious was much closer behind him than he'd thought. Under normal circumstances, he'd have put on an extra burst of speed to widen the gap. But these circumstances were anything but normal. A brisk hobble was about all he could manage.
Spike hopped up onto the low railing on the edge of the bridge, and fired a single bullet directly at Vicious' heart. At the same time, however, Vicious' katana came sweeping towards him. Automatically he leaned back so that the blade swished through the emtpy air in front of him ...
... and then he was falling, without even a chance to see if his final shot had hit. The Jericho flew out of Spike's hand as he stared upward at his feet, silhouetted against the sky. Air whipped past him.
For a moment he felt weightless, the extreme bloodloss adding to the sense of vertigo. As thought he were floating on clouds.
"I'm going to find out if I was ever truly alive."
His own words echoed in his ears as thoughts of Vicious and Julia rushed through his head. Everything seemed so clear, so perfect. All he'd waited for, all this time ... resolved. Ended. A burden was gone. He was finally free.
Then came the impact, the sudden shock, and finally the wet, icy embrace of the water. A swathe of blood stained it crimson. And perhaps for the very last time, Spike closed his eyes.
The bullet missed, but only because Vicious had inadvertantly tripped as he swung his katana at Spike. The katana left his hand, hit the railing, and landed next to him on the ground. He closed his eyes, unsure if he had hit Spike, but fully aware that his adversary had fallen off the bridge and into the water below. In his condition, he wouldn't last long.
Vicious pulled himself up, and leaned against the railing. He couldn't see Spike at all in the dark waters; he was having a hard enough time seeing anything at all. He reached down and picked up his katana, and stumbled slowly back to his zip. He had to get back to the syndicate clinic, or else he'd share Spike's fate.
A small grin crossed his lips, even as he struggled to get back to the zip. Spike's fate. Death. It was finally over. He would find Julia again, and maybe now, he could be happy.
----------------
With a ping, the elevator reached the bottom floor and the doors slid open. Spike picked up Faye and stood, then carried her through the lobby and out onto the street. There was a park bench on the sidewalk, and he gently laid her down on it, hoping that someone, anyone, would come by and find her. He wanted to do more, but something more urgent called.
"Spike," Faye whispered softly, although she had no energy to stop him. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, fighting to keep the world from going black. This had to stop. The words echoed in her mind. She told herself she had to get up. She had to find them both. She had to stop them from doing these crazy things.
But she couldn't. Her body wouldn't listen to her, and her mind could do nothing more than scream. Her head rolled to the side, and she watched with tears in her eyes as Spike and Vicious's zip crafts took off. She could hear the sounds of missles and gunshots, but even those couldn't prompt her to move.
A minute later, although to her it felt like hours, she gave in to the darkness and passed out. An emergency crew, responding to the fire in the building arrived on the scene to find not only a burning building, but a injured woman.
"Get her into the ambulance," Someone shouted, as Faye was lifted onto a stretcher and carried towards the vehicle. "She's bleeding badly." someone else said, as they started taking vital signs.
Once Faye was loaded onto the ambulance, and the doors were shut, the emergency vehicle sped off into the night, lights blazing.
----------------
Vicious pulled himself back to the zip craft. The last thing he had seen was Spike falling off the bridge. His old partner had to be dead - the cold water and his wounds would have killed him. At least, it was the best Vicious could hope for.
His own body was starting to fail him, and if he didn't get medical attention soon, he would join Spike's fate.
With the last of his efforts, he took off and manuvered the Zip back to the Red Dragon headquarters. A phone call in advance had the medical team waiting on the roof as he landed.
The last thing he remembered was Rocko, helping him onto the stretcher.
