Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ In a Sentimental Mood ❯ Chapter 2

Spike reached for the doorknob with one hand, his gun with the other. He would've drawn it earlier, but the hotel's hallway was much too crowded for his tastes. It was bad enough he was here at all, he wasn't about to risk calling any attention to himself. The door was unlocked, as he knew it would be, so he let himself in, his gun at the ready.

 

"What took you so long," a low voice purred from somewhere in the room.

 

Even though the room was dark, a sliver of light from between the curtains showed Spike the suite was large. He didn't need to see to know the owner of the voice, or where he was standing.

 

"Nice room you've got here," Spike said, taking quiet steps toward the wall separating the entryway from the main room.

 

With a leap sideways, Spike brought his gun around. Even in the scant light, he was able to aim straight at the heart of the man leaning casually against the wall. The man flicked the lights on and Spike smiled when he saw the sword stuck in the gun's barrel and the grinning face behind it.

 

"Hello, Spike."

 

"Hello, Vicious. Taken to hiding in the dark now?" Spike asked, his gun unwavering.

 

"Just didn't want you to get rusty," Vicious said, his sword steady as a rock. "Are we planning on standing here in stalemate all day? Or shall we continue this conversation in comfort?"

 

"After you," Spike invited, taking a slight step back to remove the tip of the sword from the barrel. Together, they lowered their weapons, but neither took their eyes off the other.

 

"This is…unproductive," Vicious said. "I'm calling a truce so we can get down to business while we're young."

 

Vicious turned his back, confident Spike would not shoot him, and led the way to the sitting area in the middle of the main room. After sheathing his sword, he raised one hand to beckon the crow from its perch on top of the curtains. The large bird circled the room once before landing on its owner's arm in a flutter of black feathers.

 

"So what do you want?" Spike asked, returning his gun to the holster inside his jacket. If Vicious could pretend to be civil, he could, too. He sat in the middle of the couch, resting his arms across the cushioned back as he propped his feet on the glass-topped coffee table. "I never expected to see a summons from you."

 

Vicious gave his bird a treat before settling himself regally in a chair across from Spike, legs crossed so that the sword's hilt lay across his lap. The display of distrust didn't bother Spike. The feeling was mutual. A lifetime ago, he would've left his gun out in plain sight, but he refused to play power games with Vicious anymore. The crow devoured the snack and sat on Vicious's shoulder, tugging playfully on his silver hair. When it realized there would be nothing more to eat, it turned its black eyes suspiciously on Spike.

 

"It took you long enough to decipher the fake bounty," Vicious drawled. "I've been here for nearly an hour already."

 

"I was busy. What do you want?" he asked, ending the ruse of pleasant conversation.

 

"Not what…who. And you're the perfect man for the job."

 

"I'm not your errand boy," Spike said. Although his voice was low and controlled, he couldn't hide the resentment in his eyes. "Get one of your lackeys to do it for you. I left the syndicate, remember?"

 

"No one ever leaves the syndicate," Vicious reminded him, his tone as deadly serious as his expression. "You've just been excused for a short leave of absence."

 

"You can't order me around, Vicious."

 

"But I can make it worth your while." Vicious pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and tossed it onto Spike's lap. "That's just for expenses. The real amount will come after delivery."

 

Spike stared at the envelope on his lap for a few seconds before picking it up. He wanted to throw it back in Vicious's face, but the temptation of woolongs was just too great to ignore. The bounty he turned in that morning barely covered the property destruction fines he accumulated to nab her. Not to mention the Bebop was nearly out of fuel, the Swordfish needed repair parts, and they had all been starving on meager rations for weeks. He just couldn't afford not to at least look. With an inward sigh, he opened the envelope.

 

A cashcard fell out along with a stack of 100 woolong bills. With the cash alone, Spike estimated he could buy enough food supplies to last them for months. When he realized it was an unlimited transfer card, he knew it was going to be extremely hard to turn down the job. But if he didn't, the syndicate would drag him back in like quicksand.

 

"Sorry, Vicious," Spike said, tucking everything back inside the envelope. "If this is just for expenses, I don't even want to know what the syndicate is up to. That much money for one guy? Sounds like a setup to me."

 

"No setup, Spike. You are a bounty hunter, aren't you?" Spike didn't answer, but his eyes narrowed apprehensively. "I am offering a bonefide bounty on this man." Vicious held another envelope up between two fingers and waved it slightly back and forth to tempt Spike. "We could've gone with someone else, but I thought I would offer it to you first. For old time's sake."

 

"Yeah, right," he said, knowing Vicious didn't have a sentimental bone in his entire body. If Vicious wanted him after the bounty, there was definitely a catch to it. But he couldn't tell how dangerous the catch might be by just his smile. After a long pause, Spike sighed. "All right, I'll bite. Who's the guy?"

 

"I can't say until we have an agreement," Vicious said, now tapping the envelope on the arm of the chair. "Do we have an agreement?"

 

Spike didn't trust the amused look on Vicious's face. Although the lips curved, there was a look of menace in his eyes. Spike looked again at the envelope still held in his hand. One job for the syndicate and they wouldn't have to worry about food or supplies for a good long time. But could he afford selling his soul for that security? Certainly that's what Vicious intended. Just the first step in getting Spike back into the fold where he wouldn't be able to escape again.

 

"Here's the agreement," Spike said, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. "I find your man, I take your money…and then you leave me the hell alone."

 

Vicious's smile grew wider. "Agreed."

 

"I mean it Vicious. No more contact. You don't look for me. You don't send me any more secret messages camouflaged as bounty heads. Don't even think about me. Got it?"

 

"An arrangement we both benefit from, believe me.” Vicious stood and dropped the second envelope into Spike's lap. The crow's feathers ruffled as it bobbed on his shoulder with the movement, clinging tightly to the jacket with its sharp talons. “All the information we have is in there. I'll be looking forward to seeing just how good a bounty hunter you really are. Enjoy the room."

 

Spike barely heard Vicious close the door behind him. He was too shocked by the envelope's contents to realize he was now alone in the syndicate's hotel suite. He read the information three times to be sure he wasn't dreaming. The papers dropped to the floor from his shaking hands and he didn't attempt to retrieve them. He walked over to the small, well-fortified, wet bar. Amber liquid splashed onto the counter before he was able to aim it successfully into the glass.

 

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" he asked the empty room before draining the drink in one large gulp and reaching again for the bottle.