Disclaimer: (see last nine chapters—ten if you count the prologue...)

A/N: And here, ladies and gents, begins the reasoning behind the rating of this fic. What can I say, sometimes there are situations that just call for a good, loud "(CENSORED)," and to be honest, I am extremely paranoid about underrating and being smote by the Powers That Be. Just letting ya know. On with the chapter. n.n

Chapter 10: Green Bird revisited

The moment the words escaped her lips, the room erupted into gunfire.

SHIT! Jet quickly dove to the ground, shielding Spike's body with his own as he reached into his vest. In the split-second he was down there, his eyes briefly scanned the room in search of cover as he did so, stopping when they fell upon a few crates piled next to a counter.

Without hesitation, Jet closed his hand around the object he'd hidden in his vest—a grenade—and pulled the pin out with his teeth, then threw it in the direction of the thugs blocking his way to the counter. "Get ready to move," he murmured to Spike, not really caring whether he was heard or not, then braced himself as the grenade he'd thrown exploded, throwing Jade Crow thugs left and right and clearing a path. "Now!" Jet blurted, yanking Spike to his feet and bolting for cover. They slid down behind the counter, and Jet took advantage of the confusion to pull both guns from his belt and take out as many thugs as he could.

They barely had their cover for a moment before two Crows jumped over the counter, guns at ready. One of them aimed at Jet, while the other pointed his gun at Spike. "Hell no," Jet heard himself murmur before shooting the one targeting him, then tackling the other one to the ground. He wrestled with the man briefly, then quickly ended the struggle by pulling back his left fist and slugging the man in the jaw. After that, he barely had time to grab Spike and jump out of the way before a grenade blew the counter into pieces.

Thinking quickly, Jet dove behind the piled crates and kicked them over, providing them with more decent cover. From there, all he could do was stay down and emerge only to take quick shots. Right away he could tell that his crate-shield wouldn't last long; each crate was only so sturdy, and it didn't take many bullets to blast them to pieces, sending hundreds of vials full of undealt drugs rolling everywhere.

Meanwhile, Jet also had to take on the task of gunning down any Crows who managed to climb over what was left of the counter, towards Spike. Even if Jet didn't live through this, damn him to Hell if he would let that happen to Spike.

However, more and more thugs were starting to flock near the counter. Impossibly outnumbered, Jet shot them down, then bolted away from his post to fight off any more that made an attempt. As he was running, he suddenly felt a burst of fire explode in his left side. A yelp of pain escaped his throat, and he dove down behind the counter's remains. His right hand flew to his side, and he winced when it came back covered in blood.A curse tore itself fromhis throat anddrowned in the gunfire.

Suddenly he felt a hand clamp down on his right shoulder; instinctively he whirled around, cocking both guns and pointing them straight at—

Jet's eyes widened a little and he quickly lowered the guns. Still shaking slightly, but with lucid eyes, Spike sent him a weak, lopsided grin. "Need some help?"

Vicious' fingers absently played at the hilt of his katana as the door closed behind him, leaving him in a pitch-black room. The look in Spike's eyes had thrown him slightly off; he'd seen those eyes show many emotions, but the one he'd received just moments before was unreadable, even for him. Maybe it was the drugs, he considered, but something in him argued otherwise. Who knew; maybe he himself had gotten the same look in his eyes. He didn't really remember, for it had felt like something in his brain had shut off at that moment. He had been able to feel Spike's racing pulse under his fingers, and at once, his own heart had matched the pace.

Pulling his hand up, Vicious saw that some of Spike's blood had gotten on his fingers. He held his breath for a moment, then rubbed his fingers together and dodged to the side just as a gunshot cut through the silence like a blade. The bullet sliced through the air where he had been, hitting the door harmlessly. In the split-second of time he had, Vicious snuck a brief glance at it. Tranquilizer? So the Crow had been telling the truth: they didn't want him dead right away.

Vicious started running as more shots rang out, unsheathing his katana in the process and finding his way around by following the sound of the shooter's breathing. He trailed the smell of gunpowder to get hints of where the Crow would aim next and dodged his way towards him, nearly tripping when he came to a staircase that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

He pressed his back into the side railing of the staircase as a few more shots sounded, then leapt over several steps to alight on the landing, where the man he now recognized as Jericho Slaine stood. Vicious swung his katana at Jericho's left hand, which was holding the gun, and the other man quickly dodged, slipping the gun under his belt and bringing out a small metal rod; in the same motion, he triggered something within it and it extended from both sides, becoming the equivalent of a metal bo staff. He thrust it before him just in time to block Vicious' blade, sending a few stray sparks into the air as metal struck metal.

Now that he was close enough to get a better look, Vicious discovered right away just how this Crow had blocked him so quickly. Jericho's breaths were coming quickly, and more noticeably, his eyes were abnormally bloodshot. Red-eye. That explained plenty.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Vicious leaned into his blade, then flung it out of the stalemate in attempt to throw the Crow off balance. He almost succeeded; but the drug wasn't in such high demand for nothing. Jericho took advantage of where he stood, pushing off the wall and jabbing the staff in Vicious' direction, all in a moment. The clang as the staff hit the opposite wall resounded through the stairwell as Vicious ducked under it, bringing them to the balcony.

Parrying another blow, the Crow eyed Vicious a bit strangely, as if trying to read him, his brows knitted with something that wasn't quite confusion.

"...Why are you doing this?" the Crow finally asked him, defending himself with inhuman speed against every swing of the blade. Watching him steadily, Vicious silently committed to memory the exact place that Jericho had slipped his gun.

Receiving nothing more than another slash in reply—one which would have been lethal if he hadn't moved; instead it only shallowly caught him in the side—Jericho determined to explain himself better.

"You're fighting for your life," he stated, ducking jerkily under the Dragon's deadly blade and bringing his staff up with him, managing to land one solid blow to Vicious' chest that nearly threw him back down the stairwell. "I don't see why you would be, at this point." His bloodshot eyes never left those of his opponent. "I'm interested in the reason."

Vicious narrowed his eyes once more, stepping back to block what would have been a rather nasty blow to the head. "You won't hear it," was his only reply as he allowed himself to be forced backward a few steps before pushing back, sending them into another brief stalemate. Still, the red stare remained.

"You have nothing left." The Crow was silent for a moment, to emphasize the statement. Vicious took full advantage of that moment to wrench his way out of the deadlock and take a decent swipe, cutting deeply into the Crow's left arm. He had proven himself to be left-handed from the first; he wouldn't be using that gun anymore. This elicited a wince, but nothing more, and Jericho found himself immediately, whipping his staff around from its position and pinning Vicious to the balcony rail. "The Red Dragons are dead," he stressed, now that he had the Dragon's full attention. "What did you expect to come after?"

Letting the Crow have his little advantage for the moment, Vicious looked him dead in the eye. "Nothing."

Strange. The Crow seemed like this really did perplex him. "Then why are you still fighting?" he asked, a strange finality in his voice. To that, Vicious nearly scoffed.

"Because you left him alive." No sooner had he said it, when a well-placed kick threw Jericho roughly against the back wall, killing the deadlock.

However, the victory was short-lived. In the swiftest movement the Crow had displayed yet, Jericho righted himself, turned his staff, and shoved it forward, slamming it into Vicious just under his ribs.

Just where the bullet had been.

Vicious inhaled sharply in spite of himself, paralyzed temporarily as his body screamed at him in protest. His ears began to ring almost at once, but over the sound he could make out the Crow's reply.

"Not for long."

With that, Jericho's hand shot in and out of his pocket in the same instant, bringing something from it that glinted in the light, then pulled his hand back and stabbed it into Vicious' arm.

Flinching slightly, Vicious glanced over to see that it was a syringe that Jericho held, full to the top with a dull yellow liquid that was slowly being injected into him. What had stabbed him had been the needle. Cursing inwardly, Vicious forced his eyes to go back to the Crow, sending a glare at him through the sparks that were beginning to appear in front of his eyes.

The Crow was looking utterly, maddeningly satisfied with his handiwork. Catching Vicious' glance at the syringe, the madness of the red-eye began to show itself in his expression. "It doesn't act as quickly as the gun," he explained, "but it will do the job in time."

Just as he said the last sentence, he wrenched the needle out of Vicious' arm and whipped out his gun with his good hand. Ignoring the burning sensation that was already beginning to sting his eyes, Vicious managed to plunge his katana forward and make contact with Jericho's shoulder, just before Jericho pulled back his gun and smashed it into the side of his head.

For a moment, Vicious' entire body went numb; he could hardly establish the sensation of falling backward before he came to himself and realized that his feet weren't on the ground anymore. He saw the balcony falling farther and farther away from him, as the gunshots below began to grow steadily louder...everything seemed to slow down as he fell. He felt as though his mind was suddenly separate from him, and almost heard it vaguely wonder if this was what it had felt like when Spi—

Then all the air was knocked out of his lungs and the sparks exploded in front of his eyes when his body slammed into the ground.

"Think you can move alright?" Jet asked in between shots, now only using one gun and covering the bullet-wound with his free hand. He and Spike were slouched back-to-back behind the counter, Spike using Jet's other gun with his good arm and paying no mind to the stiff one.

"Don't know," Spike replied, popping up to shoot down a few more thugs, then practically collapsing back down. He gave Jet a once-over. "You?"

"Don't know," Jet replied, grinning slightly in spite of himself. "Guess we're pretty screwed." Spike found himself grinning weakly as well.

"Guess so." They stopped talking for a moment as a few thugs jumped over the counter, forcing them into hand-to-hand combat. It took them both some effort to get rid of them, as Jet was losing an alarming amount of blood and Spike was honestly in no condition to fight. However, they just barely managed, then dropped back down behind the counter.

"...Vicious is here," Spike commented quietly, a shadow casting itself across his voice.

"Yep," Jet replied briefly, ducking down lower in order to reload his gun. Spike emerged from their cover briefly, buying Jet time to do so. After a second, Jet popped up beside him and added his firepower to Spike's.

"And he came with you," Spike added before they both dropped back down.

"Yep," repeated Jet, watching carefully for his next opening to shoot and shaking his head when his vision blurred briefly. God, there were so many of them; had Slaine set the entire syndicate on them?

"...And hell's frozen over, while we're at it," Spike finished, holding out his hand for more ammo and watching a man fall from the balcony with grim recognition.

Jet handed him another clip, briefly pausing to consider the last statement. "...Yep."

Closing his eyes briefly, Spike nodded once. "Okay." With that, he abruptly dropped his gun and shoved his hand into Jet's vest, instantly finding the last grenade and snatching it out before Jet could object. He hastily pulled out the pin and threw the grenade outwards.

The moment it exploded, Spike grabbed the gun, jumped over the counter and made a run for it, ignoring Jet's shouts of protest. His limbs felt like he had five-ton weights on them, an effect of being worked so hard by the particular drug that Jericho's men had periodically pumped into him to keep him quiet, but he managed to stumble his way through the confusion created by the explosion and slide to a stop next to Vicious' unconscious form.

The first thing Vicious felt as he returned to consciousness was that his body had never felt as heavy as it did right then. Through the deafening ringing in his ears, he almost heard a familiar voice urging him to wake up, almost felt the dull ache that had spread through his chest; as his eyes fluttered open, he almost saw a mismatched pair of eyes staring back.

"Come on!" Spike commanded, sounding somewhat reluctant but not quite, and urgent nonetheless. His eyes refused to focus on Vicious, instead darting around rapidly, keeping a lookout for incoming bullets. Vicious quickly shook off the haze of what was probably a concussion and swiftly got to his feet, taking up his katana, which had dropped closeby. He and Spike locked eyes for only a moment; then Spike's jaw tightened and he cocked his gun. At the same moment, Vicious narrowed his eyes and thrust his katana forward—

—straight into the heart of the thug that was about to shoot Spike from behind. Feeling his own heartbeat nearly doubling its pace, Vicious somehow knew that Spike had just saved him as well; the telltale sound of a body dropping to the ground behind him confirmed his guess. However, there was no time for questions, for the few remaining Crows chose that moment to alert some reinforcements from the shadows. In moments, they were completely surrounded.

Meanwhile, Jet slowly emerged from behind the counter. Through his blurred and red-tinted vision, he saw that not a single eye was on him. He could make use of that. He acted quickly, clicking the safety off of his gun when the Crows did; it was now or never. Slouching back against the wall, his feet against the counter, he pointed the gun at the back of the nearest Crow. So it was a self-sacrifice; maybe this could at least give Spike a chance. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the trigger, letting loose a deafening bang. And he didn't stop there; raising the pistol into the air, he shot again, and once more, blindly. That's right. Over here. He'd fight like hell, but he had a feeling he'd just signed his own death warrant.

The Jade Crows, however, never got the chance to make any moves against him. They never got the chance to move at all. For at that moment, the silence was broken by a deafening crash.

The entire room seemed to jerk at the sound, which came from a closed area across from the door, beyond something that looked similar to a hatch. In the next second, a sound like a machine gun began to pound against the door from the opposite side, bending it outward with the force until it completely collapsed, shot to the ground by a full-sized...spacecraft?...

Jet's and Spike's jaws must have dropped to the ground at that moment. They both murmured something along the lines of "Oh, hell no..."

The ship that had crashed through the wall was the very ship that Jet had found missing when he returned to the Bebop, the ship he'd been sure he would never see again. On the ship's side, the name was painted clearly in bold, crimson letters:

Red Tail.

...XD

To my super-fabtabulous reviewers:

Picon-"The meat of it," huh?...Yes, that is the perfect way to put it. This whole section was such fun to write; I hope it was, is, and will be as entertaining to read!

VanillaRose-n.n No worries, the next chapter shall be up soon. So glad that it's keeping your interest!

jdchs-n.n! Your reviews are so flattering! Gives me warm fuzzies XD But anywho, I post a chapter every other day, so as to avoid century-long downtime between, but also to give you guys some time to breathe between chapters. Can't very well take away the suspense element entirely, now, can I? ;)

Shteve-...Don't go insane...who would I DDR against? o.o Buuuut either way, here's the sanity-restoring (maybe?) update for ya. You finally got your action sequence! At least the beginning of it...XD

phoenix521-Well thank you! I really hope I'm not killing anyone with these cliffhangers...o.o But in any case, thanks so much for giving this fic a chance. So glad you're enjoying it! n.n