Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Full Circle ❯ Hate ( Chapter 3 )

Vicious had been hateful right down to his last day. Right down to his last cell.

He had had few fears. And fewer still that he would admit, even to himself. But his one fear was that Spike would die by a hand other than his own. Vicious only had two goals in all of his life. One was to rule the Red Dragon Syndicate. The other was to destroy Spike.

Spike and Vicious were two sides of a coin. Comrades-in-arms, when Spike had been a member of the Red Dragon, and bitter enemies when he had split off, and "died." Died, because no one ever leaves the Syndicate alive. But Spike had been alive. So alive. Vicious could feel it in his blood. In that dark shell most call a heart. But most of all, he could feel it in his sword. That sword cried out for Spike's blood. It screamed and it wailed and it yearned. Perhaps more than even Vicious himself. He and Spike were one once. The Syndicate had made it so. But now they were split, and only one could live out his entire life. Vicious' ambition was to see that it was him.

His first plan had been to kill Spike with the woman he loved. The woman he planned to run away with. Julia. He would send her to where she and Spike were to meet. And she would kill him. And then, he would have her. Because she was his. Everything, was his. Everything he wanted was his. And the next thing he would make his, was the Syndicate.

That plan was set in motion the day he was sentenced to execution. They all sided with him. Because they belonged to him. Because if they didn't, they were dead. All but those old has-beens. The elders. And they would die soon enough. Because even if they weren't his, their lives were his. His to command. His to END.

And if, perchance, Spike didn't come to him at the end, it would still be Vicious' hand that killed him. By the bombs. The one set next to the fuel tank of the Bebop, and the one set next to the fuel tank of the Swordfish. Spike would die. It was Vicious' will. And Vicious' will always came to pass.

But Spike did come for him. And in that moment, when Spike told him that Julia was dead. In the moment that Spike's gun was beneath his foot and his sword beneath Spike's, Vicious realized something: He had the Syndicate. Julia was gone. He would have Spike's life. And then there would be nothing left. When Spike spoke the words, Vicious' mind grabbed them. This was the perfection. He and Spike would die as one.

But with Vicious dead, the bombs still lay in their places, timers set, ready to detonate on the mark of midnight. Ready to blow away whoever was aboard the Bebop or the Swordfish on the midnight of that very day. And no one knew they were there.

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