Vicious had hardly noiced a hand grenade flying straight to his feet when his body reacted automatically sending him over the railing, opposite to the window that he had just thrown Spike Spiegel out of. The explosion came straight after him like a rose of fire.
If Vicious and Spike were a bit more alike, Vicious would definitely find himself falling through a kaleidoscope of flashing memories, life split into sharp tiny pieces: perfect career in the Syndicate (it was a criminal syndicate, but who cares), ideal girlfriend, best friend who can be trusted with life, betrayal, darkness, emptiness. There is now nothing in this world to believe in and nobody to trust, except maybe some birds - the feathered fellow hadn't left Vicious alone and was diligently posing as a vulture. Anyway, falling from the top of a church even when you are not surrounded by a cloud of broken glass doesn't make you too reminiscent (if you are not Spike Spiegel).
If Vicious and Spike were a bit less alike, Vicious would never survive facing the ground.
Vicious was Vicious (less vicious than he thought himself was though), and he had really vast experience of fighting alongside Spike Spiegel. Curiously enough, the damage Spike caused being a comrade and being a rival was practically the same. That's why the only thought accompanied Vicious' falling was:
Oh no, not again.