Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Joker's Wild ❯ 3 ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Faia Saiyajin 
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.02.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 275 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.02.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.1K | Visits: 275 | Status: Completed
"Jet... there he is..." Faye whispered softly, tugging on her partner's arm. If she had thought that waiting outside the club was infuriating, it was perfectly exasperating inside it. It was a sea of bodies, packed tightly together, gyrating wildly on the dance floor, or standing idle off it. People were stacked at the bar 4 and 5 thick, three bartenders scrambling to make drinks and not crash into one another. A slender young man pushed free of that crowd, heading into another. ...there was something oddly familiar about that fuzz of green... Spike! Faye tried to follow his head, as he wound through the people like a snake. His chin was lifted, to facilitate the way his lips were thrust up and out, his cigarette nearly brushing his nose as he held it out of the way between them. Rolling her eyes, Faye ignored him, and searched out Silver again. Ridiculously tanned, in a bright white impeccable suit, with several pounds of elaborate jewelry around his neck and on his wrists and fingers, Jesus sat in a semi-dark corner, with several girls around him, who all laughed and touched his shoulders coyly. At the table, four other men were sitting hunched, looking at something on the table.
Jet furrowed his brows. "Bodyguards?" Snubbing out his cigar in the ashtray, he somehow managed to scoot his chair out enough to stand, without knocking over the people that were clustered around the tables. Damn these places, packed in enough to be a fire hazard 12 times over. "I heard he never went out with any thugs - he said they cramped his style." That's when he realized he was talking to himself. He caught a glimmer of her dress as Faye worked her way towards Silver's table. Jet couldn't help but growl. "Dammit, woman!" Plucking his hat and his drink off the table, he followed. His size was more than enough leverage, along with the irate glare on his face. He supposed the scar and metal plate on his right eye also helped. A bit of a memory floated to the surface. Quitting the ISSP after loosing his arm, Jet had settled on the life of a bounty hunter. The Bebop had just come into his possession, a broken down thing, before he had repaired it enough to make it the junk-heap Tin Goddess it was now. He hadn't seen the section of thick metal piping before it was too late. Part of the ventilation system, the rivets that had fastened the seams had been long gone. All it took was the final crack in the support braces, and the thing had swung down like a giant hammer, nailing him right in the face. It could have very well crushed his head in, but it settled on turning the bones of his cheek into powder. The scar and stabilizer plate were remainders of the surgery, and the fact that he still managed to keep his sight in that eye was a reminder that sometimes the Black Dog had the Devil's Own Luck. "I could use some of that infernal luck right now... if that woman does something...something RASH, I'll...I'll...!" Unable to find a suitable punishment he could make last more than a few days, Jet closed his mouth. Although, the satisfying image of Faye being forced to stay in the Red Tail while the Bebop towed it along brought a small grin to his lips.
A cheer erupted from Silver's table, the audience that had gathered around it chanting 'Hey-zoos! Hey-soos!" Shouldering his way between two younger men, Jet's eyes widened at the sight before him. A chubby little man was getting up from the table, wiping the sweat from his brows, as someone else raked in a pile of plastic chips. Jesus stacked up his winnings nicely, leaning back in his chair, as another man shuffled the cards.
"Anyone care to join in?" He said, his voice heavy with a Latino accent. "Anyone feel like loosing their money to myself or," Silver gestured with a be ringed hand to his left, "This gorgeous chica? Surely loosing to her will make it worth it."
Faye lifted her head enough to display the innocent yet beguiling smile she wore, as she brushed away a strand of hair. "You flatter me, Mr. Silver."
He flashed a game-show-host worthy smile, as he looked at the people around him. So far, no one had volunteered. "No takers? Everyone here is a chicken?" He shrugged. "Alright, man. Deal the next hand."
"...Hold on. I'll join."
The color drained from both Faye and Jet's faces, as Spike sat in the empty seat, straddling the chair. Smiling his slow, laid-back smile at Faye, Spike held out a 10,000 Woolong bill with two fingers. The dealer immediately gave him a tray of chips in the same amount. Lifting a red chip from his starting money, he rolled it over his knuckles as the cards were dealt. Though the smile said careless, Faye saw the twinkle in his red-brown eyes. Spiegel wasn't playing around, he was out to win. It nearly made her scream. The sound of cards and clinking chips had been a sort of Pied Piper's tune, luring her to the table. She would be the one to win, dammit, not that reckless cowboy!
From his position across from Silver, Jet could see Faye's smile tighten. In counterpart, Spike relaxed more, leaning back in his chair, one leg under the table, the other hooked on the rungs under his seat. In his mind, Jet Black heard the swan song of what had been a flawless plan, as it fell to pieces before his very eyes. He grimaced into his drink, the last burning swallow of whisky not sitting well on what was becoming a sour stomach. '...For some reason, I see this ending badly. And once again, it will be me who has to clean up the mess...'
Tossing his 100-Woolong ante into the pile, Spike picked up his cards in a neat little stack. Common thievery was below him, of course, but these people were just itching to be pick pocketed, just like that drunken moron he'd lifted a nice sum of Woolongs from, along with the three other people whose money was now tucked away in a fat little roll in the waistband of his pants. The top card was the 3 of Clubs, followed by the 5, and the 4. The next was the Jack of Diamonds. Emotionlessly, he revealed his last card, not blinking an eyelash as the 7 of Clubs stared back at him. Raising his eyes to look at the other players, he saw that Jesus' upper lip bulged, as his tongue wormed in the space between his lip and his teeth. Faye was perched elegantly on her chair, perfectly poker-faced, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. The other player's nostrils were flaring beneath his lumpy nose.
Faye had something good. That sign he knew well. Were tongue wiggling and nostril-flaring give aways? Only one way to find out. It was sad that he would fold a possible small straight, but sacrifices were always a necessary evil.
"How many cards, Mister...?" The dealer hesitated.
"Lee. And give me one." Exchanging the Jack of Diamonds for another card, he was somewhat relieved to see the 2 of Hearts. Arranging his cards, he watched the rest of the table. Jesus took two, Faye one, and the other man stood pat. Nostril-flaring = GOOD hand.
The dealer looked at him expectantly. Spike shrugged. "Fold." He laid his cards down, ignoring Jesus' smirk.
"I'll open with a thousand." Two red 500-Woolong chips flew into the pile. "Too rich for your tastes, querida?" He was laying the charm on thick, considering that he was a small millionaire, even if he earned his wealth by dealing in questionable goods. A thousand Woolongs was peanuts to him.
"Not at all, Mr. Silver." A strand of hair was wound tightly around her index finger, and she tugged it loose. "I'll call, and raise another thousand." Spike's left eyebrow shot up.
Nostrils vibrating at a mile-a-minute, he grinned, his voice far too high-pitched and nasal for coming out of his monstrous body. "I believe this takes care of you, little lady..." He tossed another 2 chips down. "And I'll raise another thousand." He moved, a subtle flick of his eyes to the cards bent nearly in a circle by one of his massive mitts.
Spike wanted to hit himself on the head. 'He's bluffing! He hasn't got shit to play with. ...sneaky little cretin, isn't he?" Removing the shrewd smile from his lips by lighting a cigarette, he puffed idly while Jesus called.
"You're new face in this club, Lee." Said Nostril-boy. "What's your story?"
"Me?" Spike shrugged. "I'm Martian-born, Martian-bred. Just an old-fashioned cowboy." The man gave him a strange look, which Spike didn't bother questioning. "What about you?"
Leaving the 'cowboy' comment alone, he replied with a shrug of his own. "From Europa. Name's Cyprus." His smile was bold, mocking. "Just a lowly gunslinger."
"...A polite way to say you're a hired gun, eh Cyprus?" Faye had called, and Spike was fortunate that it was now Cyprus' turn to cash in or fold, or the hitman may have done something rash. As he threw in his bid, Cyprus scowled at Spike over his cards.
Jesus laid down two pair, Jacks of Hearts and Clubs, and the 2 of Hearts and Diamonds. The crowd cheered, but was immediately silenced when Faye laid down four Queens, smiling mysteriously like one of the paintings on the front of the cards.
"Four of a kind beats two pair. Cyprus?" The dealer was very blasé about the whole ordeal. Cyprus growled, and slapped down a pair of fives. "The lady wins."
Not-so elegant as she leaned forward to rake in her winnings, and showing a great deal of bosom as she did so, Faye gave a gentle shrug. "Sorry boys." Mostly directed at Silver, Faye laughed demurely, stacking her chips.
"It's no problem at all, bonita mujer." Silver smiled one of his smiles that showed too many teeth. "Luck is a lady tonight."
Jet's heart was thumping in his chest. 'Gods, Faye... don't cheat too much. At this rate, the original plan could be salvaged..." He was now standing behind her, and somehow missed how she went from a Queen and low cards, to all four Queens. There was no way in HELL she could have cards hidden in that dress, unless of course she was packing a rigged deck in a leg garter somewhere. He was sure that he'd need another few drinks sooner or later, or else suffer a major heart attack. Spike was planning something, too, what with the way he was casually irking the living daylights out of the other man. This might not turn out so bad, after all.
The next three hands saw both Spike and Faye winning a nice bit of money. The losses rolled off Silver like water off a duck's back, but Cyprus was slowly getting enraged. He was almost bending his cards in half, slamming chips on the table, and swearing loudly when Faye topped him with a pair of fours, or Spike blew him out of the water with a full house.
"You sure you're just a cowboy, Lee?" He growled when Spike beat him again with four Aces. "You look more like a cheater to me." Another glass of bourbon was swallowed back, and he pounded that down on the table, eying him menacingly.
"Just a cowboy." It was in a casual shrug that Spike revealed the gun holstered at his hip. "Care to make something of it?" Jet nearly stroked out.
'Spike! You IDIOT!'
"You wouldn't dare." he hissed. "You're a cheater, and a coward." The crowd and other two players focused on them. Jesus was bored. Faye was poorly concealing shock.
"I wouldn't really call it being a coward. I just know when to run, that's all. My pappy used to say 'He who fights and runs away, ...lives to run another day.'." Okay, so his father really hadn't said that lame-ass anecdote, but it was worth the startled look on everyone's face. "Right, Mr. Silver? You know all about hiding, don't you?" Silver's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"I think that this spineless cheater needs to be taught a lesson." Cyprus went for his gun. His hand wasn't even at his back, when Spike's gun shot from its holster, Spike calmly smiling as the Jericho was pointing at Cyprus, who went bone-white.
"Care to use mine?" Cyprus stammered. Blood vessels bulged in Jesus' forehead. Imitating a perfect cowboy, Spike spun the gun elaborately, holstering it. But it flew right back out again the moment it was completely concealed. "Aahh.. damn." He tried it again, this time with more flair, but he withdrew it in another split second. "This thing just doesn't know when to quit." Feigning a joking exasperance, he put it away again. Once more, the Jericho spun out, leveled on Cyprus. "There must be a spring in there or something." Cyprus was sweating, Spike was smiling, his eyes glittering.
Faye wasn't really shocked by Spike's little show. She leaned in close to Silver. "Was that fast? I think that was fast."
Jesus' genial mood had melted away. "That was fast." He growled. "But the cowpoke needs to learn when to quit while he's ahead!" A Colt shot from his sleeve, nestled in his palm. "Enough of your fancy tricks!" A string of Spanish flew from his mouth, Spike not hearing most of it. What he heard, he didn't understand, but it was enough to go on. He jumped to his feet, glaring at Silver.
"What did you call me?!"
"I called you a honorless bastard cheater!" He spat, his teeth bared. Faye's hand flew to her mouth, mimicking horror.
Leaning in close, Spike put his nose almost in Jesus' face. "Care to take this outside?"
"...you that willing to get your ass beat, eh cowboy?" The crowd parted as the two men stormed through the club. Spike was the first one outside. Jesus laughed. "Bad idea." Snapping his fingers, he watched from the door, as 4 men emerged from the shadows. "Let's see if you're worth my time, little boy."
Spike tried to look alarmed, as the four surrounded him, each of them built like a tank, one wielding a knife. 'Oh please... My dead grandmother looks more threatening...' Obviously they weren't going to play fair, as one went in from behind, trying to get Spike in a chokehold that would leave him at the mercy of the other 3. "Whoops!" Pivoting on his heel, Spike's arm shot out, tensing at the last moment, which sent a lighting-quick, crushing blow to his opponent's face, the heel of his palm snapping the bridge of the man's nose like it was a twig. Reeling back with blood streaming down his face, the man went to his knees, howling. Another unarmed man took his place, but went down as Spike met him with a knee to his gut and an elbow to his back in the same movement. Arms and legs a blur, his Jeet Kune Do more than a match for these brawny fools, Spike grinned as his next victim went down with a heavy thud, his legs swept out from under him. Now it was just he and Mr. Knife. Of course, he lunged, knife outstretched. Spike rolled his eyes. "What I wouldn't give to fight a person with a little experience." Sidestepping easily, his hand clamping down on the knife-wrist, it was a simple process to get the man in a chokehold, his knife arm bent up behind his back so far that the knife was visible above his other shoulder.
Silver shrank back from the door, as Spike stood boldly, the man in his grip writhing in pain. As if he'd forgotten him, Spike looked startled. "Oh. Excuse me, friend." Breaking the other man's arm, Spike stepped over the shrieking form on the ground, and headed back into the club. Silver was making a bee line for his table, but Spike intercepted him.
Finding himself against a wall, a gun pressed into his forehead, Silver panicked as he faced the eyes behind the gun. Raising his hands in defense, he stammered incoherently.
"I don't like being called names. Nor do I like having tricks played on me. We clear on that?"
"S-Sí, Señor." The moment Spike released him, Silver fled like he had the devil himself on his tail, a chorus of slamming doors following as he left through the back, for the car that was waiting for him. Once inside the safety of the plush maroon Cadillac, Silver smoothed his clothes, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We'll meet again, Señor Cowboy. I swear on my madre's grave. We'll meet again."
Putting away his gun, Spike lit a cigarette. The place had cleared out the moment they'd taken their fight outside. Jet came up behind him, along with Faye.
"I suppose this is where I ream you a new one for being a reckless lunkhead." Jet sighed, but instead held up a wad of cash. "But this covers your damage. I took the liberty of cashing in your chips. Fourteen-thousand Woolongs." He shoved it at Spike, who smirked. His entrance fee was more than covered, now.
"And what about you?"
"I would have had more," Faye sniffed haughtily, looking insulted. "But if you hadn't gone and..."
"How much did you get, Faye?" Spike's eyes bored into her.
"Twelve thou." She stroked her clutch purse like it was a priceless artifact. It bulged with a ridiculous amount of money. Breaking her idolatry, she looked over her shoulder, to where Silver had run off. "What about the scumbag?"
"We'll see him again, I'm sure." Jet chuckled, putting his hat on. "As for the three of us, I suggest we make our exit. I don't think the MPD is going to let this slip."
"That's more than fine with me. I feel filthy, just standing here." Faye shuddered delicately. "I need to take a bath. I call first dibs. You two will use all the hot water."
Jet held open the door for her. "To use all the hot water, you have to HAVE it first." Spike and Jet both grinned at each other, following Faye's loud whining into the Martian night.
Jet furrowed his brows. "Bodyguards?" Snubbing out his cigar in the ashtray, he somehow managed to scoot his chair out enough to stand, without knocking over the people that were clustered around the tables. Damn these places, packed in enough to be a fire hazard 12 times over. "I heard he never went out with any thugs - he said they cramped his style." That's when he realized he was talking to himself. He caught a glimmer of her dress as Faye worked her way towards Silver's table. Jet couldn't help but growl. "Dammit, woman!" Plucking his hat and his drink off the table, he followed. His size was more than enough leverage, along with the irate glare on his face. He supposed the scar and metal plate on his right eye also helped. A bit of a memory floated to the surface. Quitting the ISSP after loosing his arm, Jet had settled on the life of a bounty hunter. The Bebop had just come into his possession, a broken down thing, before he had repaired it enough to make it the junk-heap Tin Goddess it was now. He hadn't seen the section of thick metal piping before it was too late. Part of the ventilation system, the rivets that had fastened the seams had been long gone. All it took was the final crack in the support braces, and the thing had swung down like a giant hammer, nailing him right in the face. It could have very well crushed his head in, but it settled on turning the bones of his cheek into powder. The scar and stabilizer plate were remainders of the surgery, and the fact that he still managed to keep his sight in that eye was a reminder that sometimes the Black Dog had the Devil's Own Luck. "I could use some of that infernal luck right now... if that woman does something...something RASH, I'll...I'll...!" Unable to find a suitable punishment he could make last more than a few days, Jet closed his mouth. Although, the satisfying image of Faye being forced to stay in the Red Tail while the Bebop towed it along brought a small grin to his lips.
A cheer erupted from Silver's table, the audience that had gathered around it chanting 'Hey-zoos! Hey-soos!" Shouldering his way between two younger men, Jet's eyes widened at the sight before him. A chubby little man was getting up from the table, wiping the sweat from his brows, as someone else raked in a pile of plastic chips. Jesus stacked up his winnings nicely, leaning back in his chair, as another man shuffled the cards.
"Anyone care to join in?" He said, his voice heavy with a Latino accent. "Anyone feel like loosing their money to myself or," Silver gestured with a be ringed hand to his left, "This gorgeous chica? Surely loosing to her will make it worth it."
Faye lifted her head enough to display the innocent yet beguiling smile she wore, as she brushed away a strand of hair. "You flatter me, Mr. Silver."
He flashed a game-show-host worthy smile, as he looked at the people around him. So far, no one had volunteered. "No takers? Everyone here is a chicken?" He shrugged. "Alright, man. Deal the next hand."
"...Hold on. I'll join."
The color drained from both Faye and Jet's faces, as Spike sat in the empty seat, straddling the chair. Smiling his slow, laid-back smile at Faye, Spike held out a 10,000 Woolong bill with two fingers. The dealer immediately gave him a tray of chips in the same amount. Lifting a red chip from his starting money, he rolled it over his knuckles as the cards were dealt. Though the smile said careless, Faye saw the twinkle in his red-brown eyes. Spiegel wasn't playing around, he was out to win. It nearly made her scream. The sound of cards and clinking chips had been a sort of Pied Piper's tune, luring her to the table. She would be the one to win, dammit, not that reckless cowboy!
From his position across from Silver, Jet could see Faye's smile tighten. In counterpart, Spike relaxed more, leaning back in his chair, one leg under the table, the other hooked on the rungs under his seat. In his mind, Jet Black heard the swan song of what had been a flawless plan, as it fell to pieces before his very eyes. He grimaced into his drink, the last burning swallow of whisky not sitting well on what was becoming a sour stomach. '...For some reason, I see this ending badly. And once again, it will be me who has to clean up the mess...'
Tossing his 100-Woolong ante into the pile, Spike picked up his cards in a neat little stack. Common thievery was below him, of course, but these people were just itching to be pick pocketed, just like that drunken moron he'd lifted a nice sum of Woolongs from, along with the three other people whose money was now tucked away in a fat little roll in the waistband of his pants. The top card was the 3 of Clubs, followed by the 5, and the 4. The next was the Jack of Diamonds. Emotionlessly, he revealed his last card, not blinking an eyelash as the 7 of Clubs stared back at him. Raising his eyes to look at the other players, he saw that Jesus' upper lip bulged, as his tongue wormed in the space between his lip and his teeth. Faye was perched elegantly on her chair, perfectly poker-faced, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. The other player's nostrils were flaring beneath his lumpy nose.
Faye had something good. That sign he knew well. Were tongue wiggling and nostril-flaring give aways? Only one way to find out. It was sad that he would fold a possible small straight, but sacrifices were always a necessary evil.
"How many cards, Mister...?" The dealer hesitated.
"Lee. And give me one." Exchanging the Jack of Diamonds for another card, he was somewhat relieved to see the 2 of Hearts. Arranging his cards, he watched the rest of the table. Jesus took two, Faye one, and the other man stood pat. Nostril-flaring = GOOD hand.
The dealer looked at him expectantly. Spike shrugged. "Fold." He laid his cards down, ignoring Jesus' smirk.
"I'll open with a thousand." Two red 500-Woolong chips flew into the pile. "Too rich for your tastes, querida?" He was laying the charm on thick, considering that he was a small millionaire, even if he earned his wealth by dealing in questionable goods. A thousand Woolongs was peanuts to him.
"Not at all, Mr. Silver." A strand of hair was wound tightly around her index finger, and she tugged it loose. "I'll call, and raise another thousand." Spike's left eyebrow shot up.
Nostrils vibrating at a mile-a-minute, he grinned, his voice far too high-pitched and nasal for coming out of his monstrous body. "I believe this takes care of you, little lady..." He tossed another 2 chips down. "And I'll raise another thousand." He moved, a subtle flick of his eyes to the cards bent nearly in a circle by one of his massive mitts.
Spike wanted to hit himself on the head. 'He's bluffing! He hasn't got shit to play with. ...sneaky little cretin, isn't he?" Removing the shrewd smile from his lips by lighting a cigarette, he puffed idly while Jesus called.
"You're new face in this club, Lee." Said Nostril-boy. "What's your story?"
"Me?" Spike shrugged. "I'm Martian-born, Martian-bred. Just an old-fashioned cowboy." The man gave him a strange look, which Spike didn't bother questioning. "What about you?"
Leaving the 'cowboy' comment alone, he replied with a shrug of his own. "From Europa. Name's Cyprus." His smile was bold, mocking. "Just a lowly gunslinger."
"...A polite way to say you're a hired gun, eh Cyprus?" Faye had called, and Spike was fortunate that it was now Cyprus' turn to cash in or fold, or the hitman may have done something rash. As he threw in his bid, Cyprus scowled at Spike over his cards.
Jesus laid down two pair, Jacks of Hearts and Clubs, and the 2 of Hearts and Diamonds. The crowd cheered, but was immediately silenced when Faye laid down four Queens, smiling mysteriously like one of the paintings on the front of the cards.
"Four of a kind beats two pair. Cyprus?" The dealer was very blasé about the whole ordeal. Cyprus growled, and slapped down a pair of fives. "The lady wins."
Not-so elegant as she leaned forward to rake in her winnings, and showing a great deal of bosom as she did so, Faye gave a gentle shrug. "Sorry boys." Mostly directed at Silver, Faye laughed demurely, stacking her chips.
"It's no problem at all, bonita mujer." Silver smiled one of his smiles that showed too many teeth. "Luck is a lady tonight."
Jet's heart was thumping in his chest. 'Gods, Faye... don't cheat too much. At this rate, the original plan could be salvaged..." He was now standing behind her, and somehow missed how she went from a Queen and low cards, to all four Queens. There was no way in HELL she could have cards hidden in that dress, unless of course she was packing a rigged deck in a leg garter somewhere. He was sure that he'd need another few drinks sooner or later, or else suffer a major heart attack. Spike was planning something, too, what with the way he was casually irking the living daylights out of the other man. This might not turn out so bad, after all.
The next three hands saw both Spike and Faye winning a nice bit of money. The losses rolled off Silver like water off a duck's back, but Cyprus was slowly getting enraged. He was almost bending his cards in half, slamming chips on the table, and swearing loudly when Faye topped him with a pair of fours, or Spike blew him out of the water with a full house.
"You sure you're just a cowboy, Lee?" He growled when Spike beat him again with four Aces. "You look more like a cheater to me." Another glass of bourbon was swallowed back, and he pounded that down on the table, eying him menacingly.
"Just a cowboy." It was in a casual shrug that Spike revealed the gun holstered at his hip. "Care to make something of it?" Jet nearly stroked out.
'Spike! You IDIOT!'
"You wouldn't dare." he hissed. "You're a cheater, and a coward." The crowd and other two players focused on them. Jesus was bored. Faye was poorly concealing shock.
"I wouldn't really call it being a coward. I just know when to run, that's all. My pappy used to say 'He who fights and runs away, ...lives to run another day.'." Okay, so his father really hadn't said that lame-ass anecdote, but it was worth the startled look on everyone's face. "Right, Mr. Silver? You know all about hiding, don't you?" Silver's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"I think that this spineless cheater needs to be taught a lesson." Cyprus went for his gun. His hand wasn't even at his back, when Spike's gun shot from its holster, Spike calmly smiling as the Jericho was pointing at Cyprus, who went bone-white.
"Care to use mine?" Cyprus stammered. Blood vessels bulged in Jesus' forehead. Imitating a perfect cowboy, Spike spun the gun elaborately, holstering it. But it flew right back out again the moment it was completely concealed. "Aahh.. damn." He tried it again, this time with more flair, but he withdrew it in another split second. "This thing just doesn't know when to quit." Feigning a joking exasperance, he put it away again. Once more, the Jericho spun out, leveled on Cyprus. "There must be a spring in there or something." Cyprus was sweating, Spike was smiling, his eyes glittering.
Faye wasn't really shocked by Spike's little show. She leaned in close to Silver. "Was that fast? I think that was fast."
Jesus' genial mood had melted away. "That was fast." He growled. "But the cowpoke needs to learn when to quit while he's ahead!" A Colt shot from his sleeve, nestled in his palm. "Enough of your fancy tricks!" A string of Spanish flew from his mouth, Spike not hearing most of it. What he heard, he didn't understand, but it was enough to go on. He jumped to his feet, glaring at Silver.
"What did you call me?!"
"I called you a honorless bastard cheater!" He spat, his teeth bared. Faye's hand flew to her mouth, mimicking horror.
Leaning in close, Spike put his nose almost in Jesus' face. "Care to take this outside?"
"...you that willing to get your ass beat, eh cowboy?" The crowd parted as the two men stormed through the club. Spike was the first one outside. Jesus laughed. "Bad idea." Snapping his fingers, he watched from the door, as 4 men emerged from the shadows. "Let's see if you're worth my time, little boy."
Spike tried to look alarmed, as the four surrounded him, each of them built like a tank, one wielding a knife. 'Oh please... My dead grandmother looks more threatening...' Obviously they weren't going to play fair, as one went in from behind, trying to get Spike in a chokehold that would leave him at the mercy of the other 3. "Whoops!" Pivoting on his heel, Spike's arm shot out, tensing at the last moment, which sent a lighting-quick, crushing blow to his opponent's face, the heel of his palm snapping the bridge of the man's nose like it was a twig. Reeling back with blood streaming down his face, the man went to his knees, howling. Another unarmed man took his place, but went down as Spike met him with a knee to his gut and an elbow to his back in the same movement. Arms and legs a blur, his Jeet Kune Do more than a match for these brawny fools, Spike grinned as his next victim went down with a heavy thud, his legs swept out from under him. Now it was just he and Mr. Knife. Of course, he lunged, knife outstretched. Spike rolled his eyes. "What I wouldn't give to fight a person with a little experience." Sidestepping easily, his hand clamping down on the knife-wrist, it was a simple process to get the man in a chokehold, his knife arm bent up behind his back so far that the knife was visible above his other shoulder.
Silver shrank back from the door, as Spike stood boldly, the man in his grip writhing in pain. As if he'd forgotten him, Spike looked startled. "Oh. Excuse me, friend." Breaking the other man's arm, Spike stepped over the shrieking form on the ground, and headed back into the club. Silver was making a bee line for his table, but Spike intercepted him.
Finding himself against a wall, a gun pressed into his forehead, Silver panicked as he faced the eyes behind the gun. Raising his hands in defense, he stammered incoherently.
"I don't like being called names. Nor do I like having tricks played on me. We clear on that?"
"S-Sí, Señor." The moment Spike released him, Silver fled like he had the devil himself on his tail, a chorus of slamming doors following as he left through the back, for the car that was waiting for him. Once inside the safety of the plush maroon Cadillac, Silver smoothed his clothes, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We'll meet again, Señor Cowboy. I swear on my madre's grave. We'll meet again."
Putting away his gun, Spike lit a cigarette. The place had cleared out the moment they'd taken their fight outside. Jet came up behind him, along with Faye.
"I suppose this is where I ream you a new one for being a reckless lunkhead." Jet sighed, but instead held up a wad of cash. "But this covers your damage. I took the liberty of cashing in your chips. Fourteen-thousand Woolongs." He shoved it at Spike, who smirked. His entrance fee was more than covered, now.
"And what about you?"
"I would have had more," Faye sniffed haughtily, looking insulted. "But if you hadn't gone and..."
"How much did you get, Faye?" Spike's eyes bored into her.
"Twelve thou." She stroked her clutch purse like it was a priceless artifact. It bulged with a ridiculous amount of money. Breaking her idolatry, she looked over her shoulder, to where Silver had run off. "What about the scumbag?"
"We'll see him again, I'm sure." Jet chuckled, putting his hat on. "As for the three of us, I suggest we make our exit. I don't think the MPD is going to let this slip."
"That's more than fine with me. I feel filthy, just standing here." Faye shuddered delicately. "I need to take a bath. I call first dibs. You two will use all the hot water."
Jet held open the door for her. "To use all the hot water, you have to HAVE it first." Spike and Jet both grinned at each other, following Faye's loud whining into the Martian night.