Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Lullaby for the Shattered Soul ❯ White Ivory, Black Ebony ( Chapter 3 )

~Disclaimer:~ I don't own Cowboy Bebop, but I do own the mulberry-haired woman. No touchie!

A/N- Wow, another chapter done. ^_________^ This one was fun to write, though I've never actually authored a car chase before! Oh well. Reviews are greatly appreciated =P Flames are not.

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White Ivory, Black Ebony

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The man spoke in a language that Spike had never heard before, perhaps it was German, the thick and deep-throated syllables rolling off his tongue rapidly; but the terse tone of his voice confirmed that he was not happy. His voice was a low growl and his incomprehensible words were punctuated by threatening thrusts of his gun.

The woman's eyes flickered dangerously, striking a symphony of memories and replaying them before Spike's eyes. Beautiful and deadly. He was lost in those eyes all over again.

The two spoke softly in the same foreign tongue, snarling angrily at each other with coldness in their voices.

Julia. . .

`Christ, Julia!' And suddenly the poised gun was aimed for Julia. His Julia. Something in Spike's mind snapped violently, and he became angry. This man would never touch her. No one would. Not while he still breathed.

The woman's voice dropped an octave and she spoke in a language he understood, her blue-flame eyes blazing icily. "Then I'll see you in Hell."

More armed men filtered into the room, shouting foreign commands and firing randomly at the frightened drunkards who tried to fight their way out of the tavern. All hell broke loose. Spike grimaced angrily, drawing his gun from the holster under his jacket and returning the fire. He ducked down, pressing his slim frame against the wooden paneling of the counter, shielding himself from the insane shots.

The angry explosions of gunfire replaced the somber melody as the men continued to fire in every direction; bottles shattered on the shelf and rained down on the bullet-riddled body of the barkeep, wood slivers chipped off of tables and chairs, the mulberry woman hastily struggled with one arm to turn the piano to protect herself from the angry storm of bullets.

Julia, Julia, Julia. . .

With a grunt, Spike launched himself from his shelter behind the bar and struggled to reach her, leaping over the destroyed furniture and stumbling over the bodies of dead men.

Bullets cut the air around his head, whizzing dangerously close to his ears as he made his way up the stairs. Ducking behind the piano, he crouched, raising his gun expertly and returning the reign of bullets. Even in his anger and slight inebriation, his aim was dead on.

He had just picked off most of the men coming in when he noticed, to his surprise; the mulberry woman was crouched next to him, a gun in her blood-soaked hand and rapidly returning fire. Spike cast her a side-glance. She wasn't a bad shot, and the number of armed men fell. Those eyes that belonged to Julia were pinched angrily, her mouth set in a taught line.

"Bastards. . ." her voice had quickly lost the sweetness it possessed during song. "Damn them."

Spike smirked in agreement as he pulled back to catch his breath, listening to the sound of bullets pelting the piano with ominous `twangs!'. He cast a quick glance to the woman's bleeding shoulder, then to her rage-filled face, then to her trembling gun.

There was no need to get involved in this messy situation. His only concern should have been getting himself out alive. This bunch of terrorists were amateurs, lousy shots and easy to escape; he didn't have to stay for her. Especially for her. Women were always trouble, but this one had a capital `T' plastered all over her.

But when he found his voice, it spoke without his brain's consent. "These guys are small fries, should be an easy way out. If you help me, I'll get you the hell out of here. What do you say?"

The mulberry woman met his eye for the first time, and Spike shuddered inwardly at the piercing blue gaze that was so familiar to him. The woman gave the cowboy her own version of his smirk before replying. "I'd say lets blow this joint!"

With that the two leaped up, heading for a back door behind the ratty curtains framing the stage. Spike fired a few rounds at their attackers before disappearing out the door, trying to slow their pursuit.

"Shit! She's getting away!" a voice shouted. "Go, get them!"

Footsteps followed hotly down the narrow corridor behind Spike and the mulberry woman just as they opened a door to a dark alleyway. They did not hesitate. Leaping out into the street, the two sprinted down the sidewalk. Spike's long legs carried him quickly around those milling about in their path, while the mulberry woman followed close behind, her blood spattering the frozen ground.

A black convertible came into view just up ahead as the two skid around a corner, top down and beckoning to them invitingly. It was antique car, one of the ones that could be found in museums, named after animals, usually: Jaguar, Mustang, Firebird, etc.

"There! Jump in!" The mulberry woman's voice sounded in Spike's ear. Leaping into the passenger seat, Spike crouched down and pointed his gun at the men pursuing them. The mulberry woman followed suit, digging a pair of keys out of her pocket and revving the engine. In the back of his mind, Spike reminded himself that Julia loved the vintage cars.

With a smirk and a squeal of tires the sleek black car lurched forward and sped away. Gunshots rang out through the empty night as the woman's attackers leaped into several waiting vehicles and accelerated after them.

"Damn!" Spike fired round after round at their pursuers, and the black convertible did its best to swerve out of harms way and set up shots for its passengers. The broken streets of Callisto were a dull blur as the car sped by, people and lights and signs becoming pastel streaks of color on a black canvas.

The tires screamed as the convertible swerved hard to the right, narrowly avoiding a heavy barrage. The car spun wildly as it approached a turn, narrowly avoiding another car as the driver stalled, shocked.

Risking a grin, Spike addressed the woman next to him lightly. "Y' got some moves there, woman."

The mulberry woman's sterling blue eyes flickered in his direction for a moment before returning to the road. "I could say the same for you, cowboy."

Their conversation was cut short as several bullets shattered the convertible's windshield, showering the pair with sharp little shards of glass. The car swerved momentarily as its driver was blinded by the flying glass, but quickly regained control and continued to flee.

Growling in annoyance, the woman turned around in her seat, her face hidden by the pink curls that whipped around her in the angry winds. Her gun, held at arm's length, did all the talking for her. She fired three shots in rapid succession, filling a van's driver with holes and reaffirming her dead-on marksmanship. The van swerved crazily and crashed through an open store window, creating chaos along the streets.

Several other cars scarcely avoided the crazily swerving van and continued to pursue the convertible, firing angrily out windows. Those that didn't crashed violently, a few of the heated engines bursting into hungry flames. The mulberry woman pushed the car faster, her brow furrowed and her strong expression one of determination. Spike reloaded swiftly then fired several shots at a nearing car, sending it spinning into a streetlight.

Without warning the mulberry woman leaned hard on the wheel, and the car lurched to the right and onto a narrow side street, its tires shrieking against the worn pavement. The shadowing cars spun out their wheels in an attempt to follow the black convertible, but the car out in front hit an icy patch in the road and spun wildly out of control, crashing into the remaining cars and bringing a halt to the chase.

Spike grinned triumphantly and turned back in his seat, relaxing in the constant purr of the engine as the convertible sped further into the night.

"There'll be more of them soon. . ." The piano player's eyes began to droop tiredly and she slouched over the wheel; Spike figured probably from all the blood she had lost. Her face had become increasingly pale, like she was carved out of porcelain. "Hope you have someplace we can go."

Spike's mind rolled the thought over in his head as the car sped along, driving fast in any direction so long as they stayed out of harm's way. His instincts screamed at him to leave, this dangerous berry-haired woman was obviously trouble. He should just leap out the car, thank her for the ride, and leave.

Forget the fact that her song still haunted his thoughts. Forget the fact that her face was an almost perfect replica of Julia's. Forget it all, just leave! But that something that had triggered him to run to her was working itself up again, and with that Spike absently directed her to the Swordfish II.

The cockpit of the monoracer was designed to hold only one person, but he didn't like the idea of throwing this injured woman in the cargo hold. It was a tight fit, but somehow they managed, the mulberry woman partially on his lap and her bloody shoulder pressed against his chest, staining his shirt as the Swordfish II leapt into the sky.

Her pale face was turned away from him, watching the sky silently with Julia's eyes. Spike watched her, noting the way his front was warm and sticky from her blood. She shouldn't have been bleeding that much. Julia's eyes were clouded with weariness, if she didn't get help soon. . .

`They aren't Julia's eyes,' his mind scolded him. `Same color, same intensity, but hers are a bit bigger.'

"So," he cleared his throat, claiming her attention and breaking the uneasy silence that had settled over the cockpit. "You got a name to go with that femme-fatale facade?"

The mulberry woman cast him a wry smirk, her blue eyes glazing over with fatigue. "Yep. Do you?"

Spike chuckled to himself. So she had gall. Before he had a chance to reply, the woman lurched forward and slumped over the controls, unconscious. Blood oozed from the wound in her shoulder and thickened the tracks down her right arm. The luxurious pink curls had fallen to the side, revealing two holes that showed clearly where a bullet had entered and left her body.

"Shit."