Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Simple Man ❯ The Night Life ( Chapter 5 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Faia Saiyajin 
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Martial Arts / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.12.2002 | Updated On: 11.13.2002 | Pages: 7 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 271 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Martial Arts / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.12.2002 | Updated On: 11.13.2002 | Pages: 7 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 271 | Status: Completed
title: Night Life
author: Faia Saiyajin
series: Cowboy Bebop
rating: R
song: "Night Life" B.B King --Figured we'd end it on a bluesy note.
-Yadda, yadda. Yakkity, schmakity. You know the drill. Just read the damned thing and tell me whatcha think. I'll get more sleep during the night, knowing you care. X3
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"When that evenin' sun goes down
Yeah you'll find me hangin' around
Because the night life, it ain't no good life
But it's my life"
"Fayyyyye-Faaayyyyyye...." Edward whispered, surprisingly calm.
Faye snatched up the communicator which lay on the seat, uncomfortably wedged between her thigh and the cushion. "Yes, Ed?" she snapped.
"Working? Plan? Yes?"
"Not really."
"Oh? Lunkheaded Spike-Person's fault?"
"And then some."
"Ooo-tay."
"What was the purpose of this conversation?"
Edward grinned. She had something up her little white cotton sleeves. "Can Faye-Faye keep a secret?"
"Ed, spare me."
"The mighty-tighty-whities are escaping."
"And that means what to me? We're hear to get Jet. Not bounties." Faye was surprised by her own words. She? Faye "My middle name is Spend Money... other people's money..." Valentine, wasn't concerned about the payout? Her partners actually took precedence over what could be a nice fat sum of Woolongs?
"Well, MPU is tracking their getaway."
"MPU? You mean that old satellite?"
"Yepper-wepper!"
"MPU says that they're heading for the docks. Going to make a squeaky clean escape. That's not good."
"I know, Ed."
"But, Faye-Faye, if the bad peoples escape Ganny-meede, they'll start aaallllll over again! And bad people are bad." Edward stated, looking honestly concerned.
Faye cocked her head. Radical Edward's heart was in the right place. 'Least the kid had some ethics. "Yes, Ed. But sometimes that happens."
"But more good people will have to suffer.... more people like Spike-Person, Faye-Faye, and Papa Jet." She lifted the goggles from her eyes, her hazels looking worried, bordering on sad. Faye had never seen Ed sad, and she wanted it to keep it that way.
Faye's soft mouth curved into an even softer smile. Touched by the young girl's words, Faye nodded at Ed. "You're a good kid, Edward."
"I know!" She grinned suddenly. "Should I have MPU keep a cloooooose eye on the baddies? So we can find them laters?"
"You know what, Ed?" Faye got an idea.
"Yeeesssss Faye-Faye?" She already knew.
"Make sure that no ship leaves the port. I think that the computers are getting a bad viral infection."
Edward burst into a volley of cheers. Ein barked his enthusiasm. "Yeeeaaaaaaahhhhh!!!"
"I'm going to wait for the boys to return. After that, we'll go straight to the docks."
"Conntaccct!!" Ed saluted. Jamming the Net Diving goggles down over her eyes, Edward wiggled her fingers, which was the last thing Faye saw, before Ed closed the connection.
"Oh, all the people just like you and me
Oh, they all dreamin' about what they all used to be
I wanna tell you the night life, it ain't no good life people
Yeah, but it's my life"
In one desperate leap, Spike went after his falling friend. Shin stood in mute horror.
Jet collapsed, flat on his back, his feet in the doorway. "Jet? Jet, come on DAMNIT. I didn't haul my ass all the way here to have you cop out on me." Spike knelt by Jet's motionless body.
--SMACK!!-- Jet's head rolled to the right, as Spike slapped him across his face.
"JET!"
Shin crept down the stairs, his eyes lowered, body posture humble. By now, Spike was ripping open the front of Jet's jacket. There was a neat round hole, right about where his heart should be. "Spike..."
"Bad karma... me and my goddamned bad karma." Spike whispered harshly, his voice scratchy. He worked on pulling open the buttons on the striped vest.
"Forgive me, Spike." Shin bowed his head, ashamed.
"Knock it off, Shin." he growled.
He fell back, as Jet's body twitched, his eyes snapping open. Spike's mouth hung open. "Jet?!?!"
The Black Dog sat up, a hand pressed against his chest. He said nothing, only gasped for air several times.
Spike and Shin were speechless.
"T-thanks..." Jet coughed. From the breast pocket of the ruined vest, a small circle of metal dropped, swinging from a chain, which was hooked around a button.
The pocket watch.
"I'll be damned..." Spike went limp, sitting on his legs.
Jet lifted the object, the bullet lodged securely in the cover. He then looked to the step, from where Shin had fired. "This doesn't make sense..." The distance was no more than 8 feet. A bullet should have passed right through the thin case. A clasp was on the side, and Jet pressed it. The hinge gave a little, too damaged to open all the way, Jet having to pry it apart somewhat. The three stared at what was inside.
There was no watch. Just a thick disk of a shiny black material, dented only slightly by the impact. "It's bullet-proof." Jet said simply. "It's a piece of Kevlar." he shook his head, amazed.
"Jet, you lucky fool..." Spike said in an exasperated breath.
Jet looked at him, a grin on his face. "This coming from a guy who managed to rise from the dead?"
"We're even, then." Spike laughed. Jet clapped him hard on his shoulder, when all three were standing. "It's good to see you again, partner."
"The feeling is mutual."
Shin was the only one who remained silent. Jet glanced at the young man. Shin, seeing that Jet was looking at him, opened his mouth, to begin what would be a long apology.
Jet raised a hand. "It's okay. You're forgiven. We have more pressing matters."
"Eh?" Spike blinked.
"These guys Shang-haied a friend of mine. They're starting a large scale narcotic operation. The catch is that to process the drugs, they need a certain chip..."
"Which happens to be on the Bebop." Spike finished.
"Exactly."
"So let's get moving." Jet started down the hall. Spike stopped him.
"Faye is on the roof. Hitchin' a ride to the Hammerhead will be faster."
"Then let's get moving."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, listen to the blues
Listen to what they're sayin'
Oh please listen to the blues
Listen to the blues they playin'"
Faye was staring at the chip she had with her. Unable to read the strange patterns on the front, she flipped it over, to look at the back. The first half of the wine list was barely readable. A light tap on the surface of the cockpit made her glance up, to see Spike, Shin with him. Jet was also there. Faye sighed heavily in relief. Spike knocked once more, the corner of his mouth curled up in a grin. She popped open the hatch.
"Well ...it looks like you were successful." She said casually.
"Not hardly." Jet said before anyone could speak. "I need a ride to the Hammerhead."
"Let me guess. You three are off to play hero to some poor distraught woman?" Faye smiled slowly, crossing her long legs, which Spike caught himself staring at for a few seconds. "She doesn't know how lucky she is..."
Jet gave her his classic "Knock off the bullshit and get moving" look, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Fine. But there isn't room in here for three." Faye rolled her eyes, and started the engine.
"Shin, you ride with Faye." Jet barked orders. "Because we can't waste any time playing Chinese firedrill. Spike and I will go in the Hammerhead. You two will follow." Before Faye could even ask where the Hammerhead had been docked, Jet finished. "908 Union Avenue. Let's go. Now."
"Yessir." Shin nodded meekly, and climbed beside Faye. The hatch closed, as Spike and Jet climbed atop the craft.
"I can't believe I'm going to play daredevil..." Jet grumbled. "I'm getting too old for this."
"It was your idea, Pops." Spike sighed, as the Red Tail lifted off, and skimmed along, low to the ground. Jet and Spike held on as tight as they could, Jet's knuckles bone-white the entire ride.
Jet's ship was where he had left it, fortunately in one piece. The pair hastily entered the craft, Jet wasting no time. He wasn't even off the ground yet, when Ed's face appeared on screen.
"PAPA JETTTT!!!" She squealed, her high-pitched voice, tinny through the speakers, made Jet wince.
"Ed, I'd love to chat, but I don't really have the time." he nodded sharply, Spike interrupting him.
"Tell me you've got a smoke." He was in the middle of a grand mal nicotine fit.
"Sorry, buddy. All mine are on the Bebop." Jet grinned, as Spike slumped down in the back. It was close quarters, Spike having little room to rest his limbs comfortably. And he was much too tired to stand.
"Papa?"
"I said-"
"Edward and Faye-Faye have a plan to stop the bad persons."
"Oh?" Another window appeared, this time of Faye.
"Can we go now, Mister I-Don't-Want-To-Waste-Any-Time?" Her tone was mocking.
Jet scowled at her, and she closed the connection hastily. Only when the two ships were in the air, did Jet speak again. "What was the plan, Ed?"
"Gwwweeeeeeeeeee!!" Ed squealed again, and relayed the mighty plan.
"Hey, they tell me in life
Life is just an empty scene
Oh, oh, an avenue people
An old avenue of broken dreams"
Angelina was freed from her bonds. She had been, hours ago. But she remained a prisoner to the Rising Pheonix. Now jostled and bumped in the back of a van, she listened to the disjointed harmonies of clicks and murmurs of men loading guns and making plans. In the front, her nephew Quince drove, the leggy blonde, his girlfriend Elenie in the passenger side. The pair didn't speak. Elenie seemed detached, her eyes empty, as she watched the world buzz by. In the next row, DeMonet sat in the center, his two best armed guards flanking him. The pair exchanged bloodthirsty glances, fingering the weapons hidden in their crisp suits. The far back was where Angelina sat, her knees drawn up, hands laying like two dead animals at her sides. The light was poor, the distant sun slipping down over the horizon. Angel hadn't slept for hours, her skin sallow, pale eyes hooded. She wondered where Jet was. Dear Jet. If he still lived, and had escaped in the commotion at the HQ, he'd be after her.
*Jet... honey, be careful. Don't throw your life away over an old lady like me...*
Far above, in the empty Ganymede skies, the Hammerhead whistled through the dank air. Rain was coming. Jet snorted, loosening his tie. He remembered the dawn, which seemed like some sort of distant memory, when life made just a little bit more sense than it did now. The sky had been streaked with red, as if it were an ominous warning to the blood he would have to shed.
"Red sky at night, sailor's delight..." he shook his head sadly, as he let Ed guide the brown and yellow vessel through the knots and loops of the highways.
"What was that...?" Spike mumbled from behind him. He was surprisingly calm, slumped in his chair, toothpick legs stretched out, his feet on Jet's headrest.
"Old saying. 'Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.'."
"Very poetic."
"Heh. Tell me about it. And get your damned feet off of my chair!" Jet snapped, looking over his shoulder at his somewhat annoyingly-unkillable partner.
Spike's clown-shod feet dropped from the spotted, creased, leather rest, landing with a hollow thud on the metal floor. "Any better..?" He said, his mellow voice edged with sarcasm.
"Much." Came Jet's terse reply, when the quick intonation of several chimes distracted him. Edward thrust her face into the screen.
"Youuuu should be seeing them.... nowwwwwwww!!" Edward beamed. At that moment, another screen slid out from behind Ed's, a pixelated, boxy image moving north along a series of neon green lines. The van's position. "The vi-wus is pwanted. Everything is GWEEEEEEEN!!"
"I do, Ed, and thank you. We'll be arriving shortly." he nodded. Spike was leaning over his shoulder, one hand on the headrest, the other on his hip.
"So, ah... what's the plan?"
"They're planning to go off-world. Ed's bugged the dock's computer systems so that no ship can leave. In the confusion, we-"
"Crash the party." Spike finished for him, his mismatched eyes twinkling with their usual determination/mischief.
"In a roundabout way, yes."
"It's a half-baked idea, but I guess it'll work." Spike looked down at the older man, the left corner of his mouth twisted up in a grin.
"If you've got any better ideas, feel free to divulge." Jet retorted, crystalline eyes darting over Spike's amused face.
"Oh you know me. The lone gunman. Shoot first, then shoot some more, then ask questions when everyone's dead."
"That's what I'm afraid of, Spike-O." Jet chuckled. "Faye...?" He turned his attention downwards, as Faye's face appeared.
"Hey-ya, Cowboy." she murmured sexily, Jet unsure if she was making a generalized statement, or using it as some sort of line. From above, Spike snorted quietly. No doubt he was wearing one of his trademark grins.
"We've got a visual on them, Faye."
"So do I."
"All right. You come in from the opposite side. We'll hem some corners, if you know what I mean."
Faye nodded once.
"And Faye, keep your bullets to yourself. There's a prisoner onboard." Jet added sternly.
"What's with all the orders?" Faye snapped, jade eyes sparking with disobedience. "I can handle myself. It's you two reckless idiots that pose as a problem."
Both wore matching looks of bewilderment. But before either could defend their characters, Faye continued.
"First one runs off to engage an old friend in a cute little soiree, and not long after, his friend takes an unannounced vacation. It's not me you should be worried about, boys. I'm a lady. Refined and intelligent. I know how to handle myself in situations like this." she winked.
"Was this before or after you said that being delicate wasn't your style?" Spike said, his tone dripping with ridicule.
"And when did I say that?" Faye batted her thick eyelashes.
"Decker. Land mines. Explosives. Ring a bell?" Spiegel raised a slender eyebrow, hoping to jog her memory.
"Oooohh... you mean that nerdy guy with the tacky truck and the lady with the loud music?"
"Glad to hear that you remember."
"As much as I'd hate to interrupt this joyous trip down memory lane, I'd like to point out that we're at the port authority." Jet used his usual voice, the gruffness of it putting a stop to any sort of bullshit. "So Faye, could you please do what it is in your nature to do?"
Faye gave him a look that seethed with anger, before he closed the connection on her.
"And just ....what is it in her nature to do?" Spike asked, somewhat apprehensive.
Jet's shoulders heaved in a sigh, as he shook his head. His right arm lifted, as he rubbed the back of his neck, in almost embarrassment. "Cause hell."
"But I tell you the night life, yes it ain't no good life
Hey, but it's my life"
Well, it was safe to say that whatever Cowgirl Edward had placed in the computer systems was really making life difficult for our escaping dispicables. Jacques, his two bodyguards, Elenie, and Angelina remained in the van. The others had stormed off to find some answers, or kill whatever bumbling teen had caused the problem, whichever came first. Or at least, that's what they had told their superior.
Infact, Quince Lee Tarone, Jr., was planning a first-class mutiny. He'd already had the rest of the Rising Pheonix relocated to another building clear across town. They awaited his orders, to start 'Out of the Ashes', the plan Quince and his cronies had concocted, to make the Rising Pheonix the most powerful organization in the solar system. And had the Red Dragons not already been eliminated, they would have been their first victims. So what remained of the White Tigers would have to suffice. It would be an all-out war, an army of intrepid, cocky young men, against the aging, antiquated ways of the syndicate.
But first things first. If you want to make an omelet, you gotta break a few eggs. Well, the first egg that was to be broken would be the head of Jacques DeMonet. The man who had built the Rising Pheonix, but had not the skill to command it. Once he was out of the way, Quince would be in total control.
"Norris?"
"Yessir!" Norris, a neurotic, gun-happy little bit of a man, snapped to attention.
"Are the preparations made?"
"They're all set, sir. The ship that will carry DeMonet is rigged to explode upon takeoff."
"And for the rest of us?"
"A round-trip flight back home. No problems."
"Excellent." Quince lit a cigar, taking a long puff, the mirror-like coating of oil on his flaxen hair reflecting the dancing patterns of smoke.
Faye and Shin circled round, leaving the Hammerhead to make its grand, direct entrance. Onboard, Faye was focused on the matters at hand, ignoring Shin. His dark eyes were focused on the gray cement building of the dock, where several seedy members of a poorly-assembled, pathetic attempt at a syndicate were planning something nasty. Down there lay the reincarnation of Master Vicious, it would seem. ...No. Not Master Vicious. Just Vicious. The callous, steel-haired man deserved no respect, after he had taken the pride of the Red Dragons, and twisted it into something malignant. At one time, he and Lin had glorified Masters Vicious and Spike. The two great warriors, flashes of silver and green, who brought nothing but honor to the Red Dragons with every deed.
Spike and Vicious had been the epitome of manliness to the young impressionable twins. Always together, bonded by karma and something more, even when apart. Not unlike twins, with matching paths, but different destinies. But... then things changed. An unmendable chasm formed between the two. That was Julia. Shin smiled mirthlessly.
It was easy to see why things had turned sour between Spike and Vicious. Even he, at such a young age, had become smitten with Julia's ethereal beauty. And that wedge drove Vicious into a power-hungry, animalistic madness, bent on nothing but control. Control over the syndicate, and control, especially, over Julia. On the other side, Spike seemed to fade. To become nothing more than a slow moving blur, a regal painting that had been left in the rain. That was, until he had challenged Vicious, and been killed. Yet the Green Dragon had returned, and delivered the final blow to the Red Dragons, effectively cutting their legs out from under them. And then, once again, he had died.
Shin shook his head slowly. Each one of Spike's numerous deaths had been the final word in the chapters of his life. Now he had been granted another chance to live. What would he do with this gift, now that the past could no longer return to haunt him?
"Yes, can't stop singin' it
The night life, yes it ain't no good life
People but it's my life"
"So, tell me this again. We're just gonna fly headlong into this place, and hope that with some luck, we'll save your friend, end the Rising Pheonix, and escape, with all limbs and other parts intact?" Spike asked, just to be double sure.
"Yep."
"Ah. Well, it would seem I'm rubbing off on you, old timer." Spike clapped his friend hard on his shoulder.
"That's the scary part." Jet laughed, sitting back in his chair. He would kill for a cigarette right about now.
The younger man smiled a little, and looked down at the scene before them. In the distance, Faye's Red Tail closed in. "Looks like it's time to party."
"Would seem so." Jet nodded, the Hammerhead rumbling as its engines were pushed to the limits. Spike returned to his seat, subconsciously fingering the gun at his back.
The cement building was riddled with bullet holes, as Faye made her entrance. Snaking its way through the pillars and other ships, the Red Tail zipped along, until her target was in sight. Shin gripped the headrest, as Faye's unorthodox piloting nearly sent him toppling over. Two men, armed to the teeth, emerged from the van, firing away at the craft. Inside, Elenie went white with fear, as the sound of gunfire echoed in the closed space.
DeMonet wasn't phased by this strange turn of events. He remained seated, even as the vehicle was rocked to and fro by the erratic circling of the ship outside. Angelina had curled into a tight little ball, behind the seat, refusing to scream.
The nameless bodyguards dumped their spent clips, exchanging them for fresh weapons as Faye came around for another pass.
"I've got her." one growled, leveling his gun on the ship. Instead of wasting time shooting at the thick material of the cockpit, he moved off to side, to the forward thrusters located under the left wing.
Faye stared hard at the man who dared challenge her. "Bring it on, big guy." she smirked. Shin, however, wasn't so confident. Rightly so, because at that moment, a small explosion sent the Red Tail pitching dangerously to the right side. "Shit!" Faye swore, jerking on the controls to compensate.
"What happened?!" Shin hollered through grit teeth.
"I'm hit, Jet!" she squealed into the com, as the Red Tail lost altitude, swaying to and fro like a drunken boxer, careening downwards.
"What'd she say?!" Spike lurched forward, as Faye's voice burst through the speakers. The Hammerhead hadn't even gotten a visual on the van, when Faye had frantically announced her plight.
Jet snarled a little, his fingers tightening on the control sticks. "That's it. I'm calling for backup." Loosening his hold to press a few buttons, Jet smoothly piloted the Hammerhead through the winding passages of the docking station. A man's face appeared on screen.
"Delacroix!" he barked, getting his attention.
"Hey! If it isn't the Black Dog himself!"
"Not now, Delacroix. I've got a problem. Send a squadron down to the docking station, pronto."
"What's going on?!"
"Rising Pheonix. They're planning something nasty. We've got 'em cornered." Jet smirked. Delacroix blinked, but grinned. Eugene Delacroix and Jet were the same age. They'd both graduated from the Academy together, and it had come as a shock to Delacroix and the entire force, to see the best officer in the class leave the ISSP after only ten years of excellent service.
"All right, Jet. You keep an eye on 'em. I'm relaying the message to HQ."
"I'll keep more than an eye on them."
"I know you will. They don't call you the Black Dog for nothin'."
"Amen to that one, Delacroix. Now get your ass moving!" Jet forced a grin, and signed off. A terrible sight was unfolding before him, at Jet's jaw went slack. "Oh damn."
Spike was practically sitting on his shoulders, leaning forward in disbelief. There was the van, undamaged, save for the back end of the Red Tail jutting from the driver's side.
"The night life ain't no good life,
But it's my life"
"What the blue fuck is going on?!" Quince roared. He and his men had heard the gunfire, and only now, after things were silent for a few minutes, did they emerge.
"It would seem we've been ambushed." Norris pointed out the obvious, gesturing to the strange merging of zip craft and car.
"I know that, you idiot!" he barked at Norris, who winced. Of course, either way it worked out for him. DeMonet was most certainly dead after that encounter. Okay, so it hadn't gone as planned, but it was close enough. That's when the faint squeal of sirens echoed in the distance. "Damnit! Let's move. We've got unwelcome company!"
"Not so fast, Mister Asshole." a gruff voice stopped them in their tracks. The four men turned around, and stared with disbelieving eyes.
There was Angelina, a pair of guns held tightly in her grasp. And judging from her ragged, determined appearance, she wasn't to be taken lightly. Glaring at them in the way only a pissed-off female could, she waved the gun in her left hand, a Desert Eagle, at them. "Don't move, or I'll nail you where it hurts."
Quince wasn't impressed by his Aunt's heroics.
"You know what really pisses me off, Quince? Besides the fact that you knuckleheads wrecked my only way of life, treated me like dirt, kidnapped me, and forced me to be your hostage... What really hurts is the fact that I am actually related to a scumbag like you." the tough-as-nails barmaid finished. "What must your mother think?"
"Who really cares, Auntie? It's the old fools like who started this mess. Remember? Yours was the generation of syndicates? So, therefore, you infact had a hand in turning me into what I am today. Thanks to the greedy upper-class bastards you called your friends." He drew his own gun, and prepared to punctuate his little speech with a bullet.
That's when a large-scale harpoon sliced through the air, landing between his feet. The Hammerhead touched down, Jet emerging from the ship hastily, Spike taking cover behind a pillar.
"Well well well, Mr. Black. It's good to see you." he growled. "Alive, that is."
"Piss off, asswipe." Jet grumbled, holding Quince at bay with his gun, as he grabbed Angelina, who stood her ground. Dragging her to the other side of the Hammerhead, he opened the hatch so that Angel could rest inside safely. "Sit tight. And don't try and pull any heroics. That's my job."
"Heh. Don't worry about me, honey. I can handle myself."
"I don't doubt you on that." Jet grinned a little over his shoulder, as Spike caught his attention by firing a shot in the air. Jet bent his right arm, the cool metal of his Beretta brushing against his ear. His instructors from the Academy would have been pleased as punch to see that Jet had indeed paid attention to his classes. "You take the left?" he mouthed, waiting for the correction he knew would come.
"No. Right." Spike grinned. His left pocket was grossly distended, and Spike reached in, and retrieved a grenade. Holding it up for Jet to see, Spike's eyebrow shot up, giving his partner a sarcastic, yet amused look.
"Give it up, old man!" Quince called. "You're out-gunned and out-classed!" He wasn't about to engage in an old-fashioned standoff, not with the ISSP closing in, and fast. Already he could hear the footsteps of trained ISSP agents as they stormed through the station.
Jet glanced over at Spike. "In the words of my generation..." Spike tossed the grenade, the smooth plastic clickety-clacking against the ground. Jet pivoted, and took his aim. "Up YOURS!!!!!" He fired once, the bullet meeting the explosive with a deadly combination.
Jet could only watch, as Quince screamed once, his men enveloped in a wall of flame and falling debris. But it wasn't time to gloat in his victory. Moving swiftly, the pair ran around to the other side of the van, to the opposite side. It was dented horribly, one of the twin guns mounted on Faye's Red Tail piercing the metal.
Spike wasted no time, pulling open the rear door. Inside the amber cockpit, he could barely make out the forms of Faye and Shin. Neither were doing much moving. "God damnit. Faye! Shin!" Spike called, knocking on the smooth surface. Faye Valentine was slumped over the controls, Shin was behind her, his youthful face resting on her back. In the poorly lit van, Spike fumbled for the hatch release, rather unsuccessfully.
Jet reached in, grabbing Spike's jacket. "Don't. Wait until the ISSP arrives. Trying to move them will do more harm than good." His voice did little to placate the frantic Spike. Jet's stifled gasp did more.
"Don't... move..." came the harsh, wet whisper. Spike turned around, or at least tried to, in the narrow space. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Jet's astonished face, his eyes wide. Behind him was Quince. "You've ruined my plans for the last time, Mr. Black. I'm not going to let you get away with it." It was amazing that the man could even stand, let alone hold a gun. It was with sheer determination alone that he'd extracted himself from the rubble. His face was twisted with rage, visible under the blood that coated his face. His left arm hung useless at his side, bent at an unnatural angle, the back of his hand brushing against his thigh.
The two were caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Spike reached for his gun, but Jet's head moved forward a little, as Quince shoved the barrel of the gun deeper into his skull. He growled a silent warning, a bit of blood escaping from his lips.
Jet was oddly stoic, his piercing eyes calm. There wasn't much of a way for the Black Dog to escape this one.
"Nobody wins, Jet. Not you, not me..." His words were forced. It was an effort to speak.
"Yeah... but you still lose, Quince. Your little mutiny has failed."
Quince roared loudly, pulling the trigger. Spike, who had watched the eerie tableau, like it was some old movie reel, finally snapped to reality with a cry. He lunged for Jet, who squeezed his eyes shut at the deafening gunshot.
But Jet was surprisingly unharmed. Behind him, Quince Lee Tarone, Jr., collapsed in a heap, the back of his head blown off. "What...?" Jet turned around carefully, having nearly messed his pants.
There was Angelina, clutching the Desert Eagle in both hands, smoke still issuing from the muzzle. Shaking violently, she dropped the gun, her mouth open. In deep shock, she stood there, her wild gray hair, sweaty and tangled, giving her the appearance of a madwoman on the loose.
"Angel!" Jet blinked, and went to her. Angelina covered her face, tears finally springing up. Burying her face in his chest, the woman cried silently, not for her departed nephew, but perhaps for the death of something else.
"Can't you hear the blues they be playin'
Yeah, the night life ain't no good life,
But I tell you,
It's my life"
It didn't take long for the ISSP to figure out what happened. Jet went to work, smooth-talking he and his crew out of trouble. Spike fluttered around the rescue operation, close enough to see what was going on, but just out of the reach of being a nuisance. Shin and Faye were laid on stretchers, Spike catching only one glimpse of the woman and man, before they were covered in a swarm of paramedics.
The list of casualties was short, but, fortunately, Faye and Shin wouldn't be added. Seven men of the mafia organization known as the Rising Pheonix (Quince being one of them), multimillionaire Jaques DeMonet, and one woman. Jet watched, remorsefully, as the body of Elenie was put into the ambulance, a tassel of her blonde hair peeking out from underneath the sheet that covered her.
Angelina, wrapped in a thick grey blanket, patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Jet." She knew Jet would be beating himself up over her death.
"Yeah..." Jet sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Are you..?"
"I'm fine, honey. Like I said, it'll take more than this to kill an old bird like me." Angel winked.
"You saved my life."
"Oh hell, Jet, it was nothing. You saved my ass, so it was the least I could do."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "So much for a vacation..."
"You're a cowboy, Jet. Cowboys don't get vacations."
"Yeah, well... what the hell do we get, then?"
"The eternal gratitude of the lives you've saved."
"I guess that reward is better than no reward at all..." Spike said, coming up behind them. Finally able to sate his nicotine fit, he took several long drags off of the cigarette he had bummed. He tossed the smoke to Jet, who took his share of puffs. Angelina took the last one, before dropping the butt onto the concrete. "It's a sad world, Jet. You know that as well as I do. But the important thing is that we gotta keep on livin'. We can't just give up because the cards don't fall our way..."
Jet raised an eyebrow. "Where the hell did you pick that up?"
Spike smiled his usual smile, his mismatched eyes sparkling. Like always, Spike was letting on that he knew more than he should. "Dying will do that to you."
Jet laughed, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Let's go home."
"You go ahead of me. I'm waiting for Shin and Faye."
"How are they?"
"Not a scratch on 'em. Just got their bells rung by the impact." Spike smiled a little. "Besides, it won't be very good on our part for them to find out about Shin's past and Faye's debts. And I gotta pick up the Swor-... OH SHIT."
Jet watched as Spike took off running. Blink blink blink. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Gods only know..." Angelina sighed quietly. "Now I see why you needed time off. 'S a strange bunch you've got there."
"Heh. True. But they're all I got, Angel. And when that's all you got, it works just fine."
"Spoken like a true cowboy."
Two hours later, Faye was back on the Bebop, which drifted silently, still in Mars' orbit. Dropping a cigarette onto the floor of the hangar, she listened to the mutterings of Jet, who was busy working on the Red Tail.
"Another part to be replaced... why the hell do you have to be so reckless..." She mouthed the words as Jet fumed. "I ain't made of money, yadda yadda yadda..." She leaned against the wall, rolling her eyes.
Edward then popped in. She'd been sleeping since two of the three missing Bebopers had come back. "Fayyeeee-Faaaaaaayeee!!" Edward gushed, wrapping her arms around Faye's legs. "Everyone is hoooommme!!"
"Yeah, Ed, we're home." Faye said quietly. Home. What a funny word that was. Home. But this was her home, and her family. It was small, unorthodox, and had a habit of being obnoxious, but it was hers.
The sound of the Bebop's hatch opening filled the room, and the walls and gates opened to reveal the Swordfish. Spike Spiegel climbed out of the ship, looking pissed off and weary. "This tin goddess never looked so good..." he sighed heavily, joining Faye against the wall. Slumping against it, he lit a cigarette.
"You'd better hope for your sake, Spike-O, that that ship of yours doesn't need repairs." Jet chuckled, taking a break.
Spike glared at him.
"What happened?"
Spike fished into his back pocket, withdrawing a slip of paper.
"Hm? What's this?" Reading the small, poorly printed words, Jet dropped the cloth he'd wiped his hands on.
Spike covered his eyes with his left hand, leaning his head back. "Three... two... one..."
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
"It's a...." Spike started, but Jet's stroke had only just begun.
"What the HELL did you do that it cost me 10,000 woolongs?!"
"I.. sorta... ran over my dock time..." he mumbled. "And... when they went... to tow the Swordfish... I ...kinda... got into a fight... and they added the damages... to my bill..."
Faye giggled. "Idiot."
"Idiot-widieot lunnnnkkkheeaaaAAAAAAADD!!" Ed chimed in, sitting in the middle of the three adults. Ein barked, pogoing on his short legs.
Steeping his fingers into his temple, Jet growled softly under his breath. "I can't believe this. Just when we finally get some cash, you gotta go blow it all."
At that moment, Faye smiled at Spike. She was off the hook this time. And speaking of off the hook...
The com unit in Jet's back pocket began to ring frantically. Still shooting death rays at his green-haired partner, he clicked the unit on. It was Shin.
"Oh...pardon me, sir. ...is Spike there?"
Thrusting his chin over Jet's shoulder, he looked down at the tiny screen. "Yeah?"
"There's an APB out on a few escaped cons. Rumor has it they're members of an old syndicate called..." Shin smirked. "The Rising Pheonix."
Spike's eyebrows went up. "Oh? No kidding..?" He tried to sound surprised, but there was a grin on his face.
"Each bounty is over 50,000 woolongs. ...are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
Spike looked up at Faye, and over at Jet. Each had this look on their face. Like it was back to the old days. But something was different now. There was a better understanding between them. They were, after all, a family. He returned his gaze to the com, his eyes sparkling. "Count us in."
"All right." the young man winked, and signed off.
Spike stood erect, lighting another cigarette. Faye could only smile sexily, and put her hands on her hips. "Let's go, boys. We're back in business."
Jet snorted, his lighter sparking as he lit a cigar. Both men exhaled a cloud of smoke, looking at each other. Both grinned, and clapped their hands together. Old partners were reunited, the bond now unbreakable between the three. Spiegel's arm wound around Faye's waist. The three exchanged glances, and their response was unanimous.
"Yeehaa."
--Saddle up, Space Cowboy.
author: Faia Saiyajin
series: Cowboy Bebop
rating: R
song: "Night Life" B.B King --Figured we'd end it on a bluesy note.
-Yadda, yadda. Yakkity, schmakity. You know the drill. Just read the damned thing and tell me whatcha think. I'll get more sleep during the night, knowing you care. X3
-----------
"When that evenin' sun goes down
Yeah you'll find me hangin' around
Because the night life, it ain't no good life
But it's my life"
"Fayyyyye-Faaayyyyyye...." Edward whispered, surprisingly calm.
Faye snatched up the communicator which lay on the seat, uncomfortably wedged between her thigh and the cushion. "Yes, Ed?" she snapped.
"Working? Plan? Yes?"
"Not really."
"Oh? Lunkheaded Spike-Person's fault?"
"And then some."
"Ooo-tay."
"What was the purpose of this conversation?"
Edward grinned. She had something up her little white cotton sleeves. "Can Faye-Faye keep a secret?"
"Ed, spare me."
"The mighty-tighty-whities are escaping."
"And that means what to me? We're hear to get Jet. Not bounties." Faye was surprised by her own words. She? Faye "My middle name is Spend Money... other people's money..." Valentine, wasn't concerned about the payout? Her partners actually took precedence over what could be a nice fat sum of Woolongs?
"Well, MPU is tracking their getaway."
"MPU? You mean that old satellite?"
"Yepper-wepper!"
"MPU says that they're heading for the docks. Going to make a squeaky clean escape. That's not good."
"I know, Ed."
"But, Faye-Faye, if the bad peoples escape Ganny-meede, they'll start aaallllll over again! And bad people are bad." Edward stated, looking honestly concerned.
Faye cocked her head. Radical Edward's heart was in the right place. 'Least the kid had some ethics. "Yes, Ed. But sometimes that happens."
"But more good people will have to suffer.... more people like Spike-Person, Faye-Faye, and Papa Jet." She lifted the goggles from her eyes, her hazels looking worried, bordering on sad. Faye had never seen Ed sad, and she wanted it to keep it that way.
Faye's soft mouth curved into an even softer smile. Touched by the young girl's words, Faye nodded at Ed. "You're a good kid, Edward."
"I know!" She grinned suddenly. "Should I have MPU keep a cloooooose eye on the baddies? So we can find them laters?"
"You know what, Ed?" Faye got an idea.
"Yeeesssss Faye-Faye?" She already knew.
"Make sure that no ship leaves the port. I think that the computers are getting a bad viral infection."
Edward burst into a volley of cheers. Ein barked his enthusiasm. "Yeeeaaaaaaahhhhh!!!"
"I'm going to wait for the boys to return. After that, we'll go straight to the docks."
"Conntaccct!!" Ed saluted. Jamming the Net Diving goggles down over her eyes, Edward wiggled her fingers, which was the last thing Faye saw, before Ed closed the connection.
"Oh, all the people just like you and me
Oh, they all dreamin' about what they all used to be
I wanna tell you the night life, it ain't no good life people
Yeah, but it's my life"
In one desperate leap, Spike went after his falling friend. Shin stood in mute horror.
Jet collapsed, flat on his back, his feet in the doorway. "Jet? Jet, come on DAMNIT. I didn't haul my ass all the way here to have you cop out on me." Spike knelt by Jet's motionless body.
--SMACK!!-- Jet's head rolled to the right, as Spike slapped him across his face.
"JET!"
Shin crept down the stairs, his eyes lowered, body posture humble. By now, Spike was ripping open the front of Jet's jacket. There was a neat round hole, right about where his heart should be. "Spike..."
"Bad karma... me and my goddamned bad karma." Spike whispered harshly, his voice scratchy. He worked on pulling open the buttons on the striped vest.
"Forgive me, Spike." Shin bowed his head, ashamed.
"Knock it off, Shin." he growled.
He fell back, as Jet's body twitched, his eyes snapping open. Spike's mouth hung open. "Jet?!?!"
The Black Dog sat up, a hand pressed against his chest. He said nothing, only gasped for air several times.
Spike and Shin were speechless.
"T-thanks..." Jet coughed. From the breast pocket of the ruined vest, a small circle of metal dropped, swinging from a chain, which was hooked around a button.
The pocket watch.
"I'll be damned..." Spike went limp, sitting on his legs.
Jet lifted the object, the bullet lodged securely in the cover. He then looked to the step, from where Shin had fired. "This doesn't make sense..." The distance was no more than 8 feet. A bullet should have passed right through the thin case. A clasp was on the side, and Jet pressed it. The hinge gave a little, too damaged to open all the way, Jet having to pry it apart somewhat. The three stared at what was inside.
There was no watch. Just a thick disk of a shiny black material, dented only slightly by the impact. "It's bullet-proof." Jet said simply. "It's a piece of Kevlar." he shook his head, amazed.
"Jet, you lucky fool..." Spike said in an exasperated breath.
Jet looked at him, a grin on his face. "This coming from a guy who managed to rise from the dead?"
"We're even, then." Spike laughed. Jet clapped him hard on his shoulder, when all three were standing. "It's good to see you again, partner."
"The feeling is mutual."
Shin was the only one who remained silent. Jet glanced at the young man. Shin, seeing that Jet was looking at him, opened his mouth, to begin what would be a long apology.
Jet raised a hand. "It's okay. You're forgiven. We have more pressing matters."
"Eh?" Spike blinked.
"These guys Shang-haied a friend of mine. They're starting a large scale narcotic operation. The catch is that to process the drugs, they need a certain chip..."
"Which happens to be on the Bebop." Spike finished.
"Exactly."
"So let's get moving." Jet started down the hall. Spike stopped him.
"Faye is on the roof. Hitchin' a ride to the Hammerhead will be faster."
"Then let's get moving."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, listen to the blues
Listen to what they're sayin'
Oh please listen to the blues
Listen to the blues they playin'"
Faye was staring at the chip she had with her. Unable to read the strange patterns on the front, she flipped it over, to look at the back. The first half of the wine list was barely readable. A light tap on the surface of the cockpit made her glance up, to see Spike, Shin with him. Jet was also there. Faye sighed heavily in relief. Spike knocked once more, the corner of his mouth curled up in a grin. She popped open the hatch.
"Well ...it looks like you were successful." She said casually.
"Not hardly." Jet said before anyone could speak. "I need a ride to the Hammerhead."
"Let me guess. You three are off to play hero to some poor distraught woman?" Faye smiled slowly, crossing her long legs, which Spike caught himself staring at for a few seconds. "She doesn't know how lucky she is..."
Jet gave her his classic "Knock off the bullshit and get moving" look, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Fine. But there isn't room in here for three." Faye rolled her eyes, and started the engine.
"Shin, you ride with Faye." Jet barked orders. "Because we can't waste any time playing Chinese firedrill. Spike and I will go in the Hammerhead. You two will follow." Before Faye could even ask where the Hammerhead had been docked, Jet finished. "908 Union Avenue. Let's go. Now."
"Yessir." Shin nodded meekly, and climbed beside Faye. The hatch closed, as Spike and Jet climbed atop the craft.
"I can't believe I'm going to play daredevil..." Jet grumbled. "I'm getting too old for this."
"It was your idea, Pops." Spike sighed, as the Red Tail lifted off, and skimmed along, low to the ground. Jet and Spike held on as tight as they could, Jet's knuckles bone-white the entire ride.
Jet's ship was where he had left it, fortunately in one piece. The pair hastily entered the craft, Jet wasting no time. He wasn't even off the ground yet, when Ed's face appeared on screen.
"PAPA JETTTT!!!" She squealed, her high-pitched voice, tinny through the speakers, made Jet wince.
"Ed, I'd love to chat, but I don't really have the time." he nodded sharply, Spike interrupting him.
"Tell me you've got a smoke." He was in the middle of a grand mal nicotine fit.
"Sorry, buddy. All mine are on the Bebop." Jet grinned, as Spike slumped down in the back. It was close quarters, Spike having little room to rest his limbs comfortably. And he was much too tired to stand.
"Papa?"
"I said-"
"Edward and Faye-Faye have a plan to stop the bad persons."
"Oh?" Another window appeared, this time of Faye.
"Can we go now, Mister I-Don't-Want-To-Waste-Any-Time?" Her tone was mocking.
Jet scowled at her, and she closed the connection hastily. Only when the two ships were in the air, did Jet speak again. "What was the plan, Ed?"
"Gwwweeeeeeeeeee!!" Ed squealed again, and relayed the mighty plan.
"Hey, they tell me in life
Life is just an empty scene
Oh, oh, an avenue people
An old avenue of broken dreams"
Angelina was freed from her bonds. She had been, hours ago. But she remained a prisoner to the Rising Pheonix. Now jostled and bumped in the back of a van, she listened to the disjointed harmonies of clicks and murmurs of men loading guns and making plans. In the front, her nephew Quince drove, the leggy blonde, his girlfriend Elenie in the passenger side. The pair didn't speak. Elenie seemed detached, her eyes empty, as she watched the world buzz by. In the next row, DeMonet sat in the center, his two best armed guards flanking him. The pair exchanged bloodthirsty glances, fingering the weapons hidden in their crisp suits. The far back was where Angelina sat, her knees drawn up, hands laying like two dead animals at her sides. The light was poor, the distant sun slipping down over the horizon. Angel hadn't slept for hours, her skin sallow, pale eyes hooded. She wondered where Jet was. Dear Jet. If he still lived, and had escaped in the commotion at the HQ, he'd be after her.
*Jet... honey, be careful. Don't throw your life away over an old lady like me...*
Far above, in the empty Ganymede skies, the Hammerhead whistled through the dank air. Rain was coming. Jet snorted, loosening his tie. He remembered the dawn, which seemed like some sort of distant memory, when life made just a little bit more sense than it did now. The sky had been streaked with red, as if it were an ominous warning to the blood he would have to shed.
"Red sky at night, sailor's delight..." he shook his head sadly, as he let Ed guide the brown and yellow vessel through the knots and loops of the highways.
"What was that...?" Spike mumbled from behind him. He was surprisingly calm, slumped in his chair, toothpick legs stretched out, his feet on Jet's headrest.
"Old saying. 'Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.'."
"Very poetic."
"Heh. Tell me about it. And get your damned feet off of my chair!" Jet snapped, looking over his shoulder at his somewhat annoyingly-unkillable partner.
Spike's clown-shod feet dropped from the spotted, creased, leather rest, landing with a hollow thud on the metal floor. "Any better..?" He said, his mellow voice edged with sarcasm.
"Much." Came Jet's terse reply, when the quick intonation of several chimes distracted him. Edward thrust her face into the screen.
"Youuuu should be seeing them.... nowwwwwwww!!" Edward beamed. At that moment, another screen slid out from behind Ed's, a pixelated, boxy image moving north along a series of neon green lines. The van's position. "The vi-wus is pwanted. Everything is GWEEEEEEEN!!"
"I do, Ed, and thank you. We'll be arriving shortly." he nodded. Spike was leaning over his shoulder, one hand on the headrest, the other on his hip.
"So, ah... what's the plan?"
"They're planning to go off-world. Ed's bugged the dock's computer systems so that no ship can leave. In the confusion, we-"
"Crash the party." Spike finished for him, his mismatched eyes twinkling with their usual determination/mischief.
"In a roundabout way, yes."
"It's a half-baked idea, but I guess it'll work." Spike looked down at the older man, the left corner of his mouth twisted up in a grin.
"If you've got any better ideas, feel free to divulge." Jet retorted, crystalline eyes darting over Spike's amused face.
"Oh you know me. The lone gunman. Shoot first, then shoot some more, then ask questions when everyone's dead."
"That's what I'm afraid of, Spike-O." Jet chuckled. "Faye...?" He turned his attention downwards, as Faye's face appeared.
"Hey-ya, Cowboy." she murmured sexily, Jet unsure if she was making a generalized statement, or using it as some sort of line. From above, Spike snorted quietly. No doubt he was wearing one of his trademark grins.
"We've got a visual on them, Faye."
"So do I."
"All right. You come in from the opposite side. We'll hem some corners, if you know what I mean."
Faye nodded once.
"And Faye, keep your bullets to yourself. There's a prisoner onboard." Jet added sternly.
"What's with all the orders?" Faye snapped, jade eyes sparking with disobedience. "I can handle myself. It's you two reckless idiots that pose as a problem."
Both wore matching looks of bewilderment. But before either could defend their characters, Faye continued.
"First one runs off to engage an old friend in a cute little soiree, and not long after, his friend takes an unannounced vacation. It's not me you should be worried about, boys. I'm a lady. Refined and intelligent. I know how to handle myself in situations like this." she winked.
"Was this before or after you said that being delicate wasn't your style?" Spike said, his tone dripping with ridicule.
"And when did I say that?" Faye batted her thick eyelashes.
"Decker. Land mines. Explosives. Ring a bell?" Spiegel raised a slender eyebrow, hoping to jog her memory.
"Oooohh... you mean that nerdy guy with the tacky truck and the lady with the loud music?"
"Glad to hear that you remember."
"As much as I'd hate to interrupt this joyous trip down memory lane, I'd like to point out that we're at the port authority." Jet used his usual voice, the gruffness of it putting a stop to any sort of bullshit. "So Faye, could you please do what it is in your nature to do?"
Faye gave him a look that seethed with anger, before he closed the connection on her.
"And just ....what is it in her nature to do?" Spike asked, somewhat apprehensive.
Jet's shoulders heaved in a sigh, as he shook his head. His right arm lifted, as he rubbed the back of his neck, in almost embarrassment. "Cause hell."
"But I tell you the night life, yes it ain't no good life
Hey, but it's my life"
Well, it was safe to say that whatever Cowgirl Edward had placed in the computer systems was really making life difficult for our escaping dispicables. Jacques, his two bodyguards, Elenie, and Angelina remained in the van. The others had stormed off to find some answers, or kill whatever bumbling teen had caused the problem, whichever came first. Or at least, that's what they had told their superior.
Infact, Quince Lee Tarone, Jr., was planning a first-class mutiny. He'd already had the rest of the Rising Pheonix relocated to another building clear across town. They awaited his orders, to start 'Out of the Ashes', the plan Quince and his cronies had concocted, to make the Rising Pheonix the most powerful organization in the solar system. And had the Red Dragons not already been eliminated, they would have been their first victims. So what remained of the White Tigers would have to suffice. It would be an all-out war, an army of intrepid, cocky young men, against the aging, antiquated ways of the syndicate.
But first things first. If you want to make an omelet, you gotta break a few eggs. Well, the first egg that was to be broken would be the head of Jacques DeMonet. The man who had built the Rising Pheonix, but had not the skill to command it. Once he was out of the way, Quince would be in total control.
"Norris?"
"Yessir!" Norris, a neurotic, gun-happy little bit of a man, snapped to attention.
"Are the preparations made?"
"They're all set, sir. The ship that will carry DeMonet is rigged to explode upon takeoff."
"And for the rest of us?"
"A round-trip flight back home. No problems."
"Excellent." Quince lit a cigar, taking a long puff, the mirror-like coating of oil on his flaxen hair reflecting the dancing patterns of smoke.
Faye and Shin circled round, leaving the Hammerhead to make its grand, direct entrance. Onboard, Faye was focused on the matters at hand, ignoring Shin. His dark eyes were focused on the gray cement building of the dock, where several seedy members of a poorly-assembled, pathetic attempt at a syndicate were planning something nasty. Down there lay the reincarnation of Master Vicious, it would seem. ...No. Not Master Vicious. Just Vicious. The callous, steel-haired man deserved no respect, after he had taken the pride of the Red Dragons, and twisted it into something malignant. At one time, he and Lin had glorified Masters Vicious and Spike. The two great warriors, flashes of silver and green, who brought nothing but honor to the Red Dragons with every deed.
Spike and Vicious had been the epitome of manliness to the young impressionable twins. Always together, bonded by karma and something more, even when apart. Not unlike twins, with matching paths, but different destinies. But... then things changed. An unmendable chasm formed between the two. That was Julia. Shin smiled mirthlessly.
It was easy to see why things had turned sour between Spike and Vicious. Even he, at such a young age, had become smitten with Julia's ethereal beauty. And that wedge drove Vicious into a power-hungry, animalistic madness, bent on nothing but control. Control over the syndicate, and control, especially, over Julia. On the other side, Spike seemed to fade. To become nothing more than a slow moving blur, a regal painting that had been left in the rain. That was, until he had challenged Vicious, and been killed. Yet the Green Dragon had returned, and delivered the final blow to the Red Dragons, effectively cutting their legs out from under them. And then, once again, he had died.
Shin shook his head slowly. Each one of Spike's numerous deaths had been the final word in the chapters of his life. Now he had been granted another chance to live. What would he do with this gift, now that the past could no longer return to haunt him?
"Yes, can't stop singin' it
The night life, yes it ain't no good life
People but it's my life"
"So, tell me this again. We're just gonna fly headlong into this place, and hope that with some luck, we'll save your friend, end the Rising Pheonix, and escape, with all limbs and other parts intact?" Spike asked, just to be double sure.
"Yep."
"Ah. Well, it would seem I'm rubbing off on you, old timer." Spike clapped his friend hard on his shoulder.
"That's the scary part." Jet laughed, sitting back in his chair. He would kill for a cigarette right about now.
The younger man smiled a little, and looked down at the scene before them. In the distance, Faye's Red Tail closed in. "Looks like it's time to party."
"Would seem so." Jet nodded, the Hammerhead rumbling as its engines were pushed to the limits. Spike returned to his seat, subconsciously fingering the gun at his back.
The cement building was riddled with bullet holes, as Faye made her entrance. Snaking its way through the pillars and other ships, the Red Tail zipped along, until her target was in sight. Shin gripped the headrest, as Faye's unorthodox piloting nearly sent him toppling over. Two men, armed to the teeth, emerged from the van, firing away at the craft. Inside, Elenie went white with fear, as the sound of gunfire echoed in the closed space.
DeMonet wasn't phased by this strange turn of events. He remained seated, even as the vehicle was rocked to and fro by the erratic circling of the ship outside. Angelina had curled into a tight little ball, behind the seat, refusing to scream.
The nameless bodyguards dumped their spent clips, exchanging them for fresh weapons as Faye came around for another pass.
"I've got her." one growled, leveling his gun on the ship. Instead of wasting time shooting at the thick material of the cockpit, he moved off to side, to the forward thrusters located under the left wing.
Faye stared hard at the man who dared challenge her. "Bring it on, big guy." she smirked. Shin, however, wasn't so confident. Rightly so, because at that moment, a small explosion sent the Red Tail pitching dangerously to the right side. "Shit!" Faye swore, jerking on the controls to compensate.
"What happened?!" Shin hollered through grit teeth.
"I'm hit, Jet!" she squealed into the com, as the Red Tail lost altitude, swaying to and fro like a drunken boxer, careening downwards.
"What'd she say?!" Spike lurched forward, as Faye's voice burst through the speakers. The Hammerhead hadn't even gotten a visual on the van, when Faye had frantically announced her plight.
Jet snarled a little, his fingers tightening on the control sticks. "That's it. I'm calling for backup." Loosening his hold to press a few buttons, Jet smoothly piloted the Hammerhead through the winding passages of the docking station. A man's face appeared on screen.
"Delacroix!" he barked, getting his attention.
"Hey! If it isn't the Black Dog himself!"
"Not now, Delacroix. I've got a problem. Send a squadron down to the docking station, pronto."
"What's going on?!"
"Rising Pheonix. They're planning something nasty. We've got 'em cornered." Jet smirked. Delacroix blinked, but grinned. Eugene Delacroix and Jet were the same age. They'd both graduated from the Academy together, and it had come as a shock to Delacroix and the entire force, to see the best officer in the class leave the ISSP after only ten years of excellent service.
"All right, Jet. You keep an eye on 'em. I'm relaying the message to HQ."
"I'll keep more than an eye on them."
"I know you will. They don't call you the Black Dog for nothin'."
"Amen to that one, Delacroix. Now get your ass moving!" Jet forced a grin, and signed off. A terrible sight was unfolding before him, at Jet's jaw went slack. "Oh damn."
Spike was practically sitting on his shoulders, leaning forward in disbelief. There was the van, undamaged, save for the back end of the Red Tail jutting from the driver's side.
"The night life ain't no good life,
But it's my life"
"What the blue fuck is going on?!" Quince roared. He and his men had heard the gunfire, and only now, after things were silent for a few minutes, did they emerge.
"It would seem we've been ambushed." Norris pointed out the obvious, gesturing to the strange merging of zip craft and car.
"I know that, you idiot!" he barked at Norris, who winced. Of course, either way it worked out for him. DeMonet was most certainly dead after that encounter. Okay, so it hadn't gone as planned, but it was close enough. That's when the faint squeal of sirens echoed in the distance. "Damnit! Let's move. We've got unwelcome company!"
"Not so fast, Mister Asshole." a gruff voice stopped them in their tracks. The four men turned around, and stared with disbelieving eyes.
There was Angelina, a pair of guns held tightly in her grasp. And judging from her ragged, determined appearance, she wasn't to be taken lightly. Glaring at them in the way only a pissed-off female could, she waved the gun in her left hand, a Desert Eagle, at them. "Don't move, or I'll nail you where it hurts."
Quince wasn't impressed by his Aunt's heroics.
"You know what really pisses me off, Quince? Besides the fact that you knuckleheads wrecked my only way of life, treated me like dirt, kidnapped me, and forced me to be your hostage... What really hurts is the fact that I am actually related to a scumbag like you." the tough-as-nails barmaid finished. "What must your mother think?"
"Who really cares, Auntie? It's the old fools like who started this mess. Remember? Yours was the generation of syndicates? So, therefore, you infact had a hand in turning me into what I am today. Thanks to the greedy upper-class bastards you called your friends." He drew his own gun, and prepared to punctuate his little speech with a bullet.
That's when a large-scale harpoon sliced through the air, landing between his feet. The Hammerhead touched down, Jet emerging from the ship hastily, Spike taking cover behind a pillar.
"Well well well, Mr. Black. It's good to see you." he growled. "Alive, that is."
"Piss off, asswipe." Jet grumbled, holding Quince at bay with his gun, as he grabbed Angelina, who stood her ground. Dragging her to the other side of the Hammerhead, he opened the hatch so that Angel could rest inside safely. "Sit tight. And don't try and pull any heroics. That's my job."
"Heh. Don't worry about me, honey. I can handle myself."
"I don't doubt you on that." Jet grinned a little over his shoulder, as Spike caught his attention by firing a shot in the air. Jet bent his right arm, the cool metal of his Beretta brushing against his ear. His instructors from the Academy would have been pleased as punch to see that Jet had indeed paid attention to his classes. "You take the left?" he mouthed, waiting for the correction he knew would come.
"No. Right." Spike grinned. His left pocket was grossly distended, and Spike reached in, and retrieved a grenade. Holding it up for Jet to see, Spike's eyebrow shot up, giving his partner a sarcastic, yet amused look.
"Give it up, old man!" Quince called. "You're out-gunned and out-classed!" He wasn't about to engage in an old-fashioned standoff, not with the ISSP closing in, and fast. Already he could hear the footsteps of trained ISSP agents as they stormed through the station.
Jet glanced over at Spike. "In the words of my generation..." Spike tossed the grenade, the smooth plastic clickety-clacking against the ground. Jet pivoted, and took his aim. "Up YOURS!!!!!" He fired once, the bullet meeting the explosive with a deadly combination.
Jet could only watch, as Quince screamed once, his men enveloped in a wall of flame and falling debris. But it wasn't time to gloat in his victory. Moving swiftly, the pair ran around to the other side of the van, to the opposite side. It was dented horribly, one of the twin guns mounted on Faye's Red Tail piercing the metal.
Spike wasted no time, pulling open the rear door. Inside the amber cockpit, he could barely make out the forms of Faye and Shin. Neither were doing much moving. "God damnit. Faye! Shin!" Spike called, knocking on the smooth surface. Faye Valentine was slumped over the controls, Shin was behind her, his youthful face resting on her back. In the poorly lit van, Spike fumbled for the hatch release, rather unsuccessfully.
Jet reached in, grabbing Spike's jacket. "Don't. Wait until the ISSP arrives. Trying to move them will do more harm than good." His voice did little to placate the frantic Spike. Jet's stifled gasp did more.
"Don't... move..." came the harsh, wet whisper. Spike turned around, or at least tried to, in the narrow space. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Jet's astonished face, his eyes wide. Behind him was Quince. "You've ruined my plans for the last time, Mr. Black. I'm not going to let you get away with it." It was amazing that the man could even stand, let alone hold a gun. It was with sheer determination alone that he'd extracted himself from the rubble. His face was twisted with rage, visible under the blood that coated his face. His left arm hung useless at his side, bent at an unnatural angle, the back of his hand brushing against his thigh.
The two were caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Spike reached for his gun, but Jet's head moved forward a little, as Quince shoved the barrel of the gun deeper into his skull. He growled a silent warning, a bit of blood escaping from his lips.
Jet was oddly stoic, his piercing eyes calm. There wasn't much of a way for the Black Dog to escape this one.
"Nobody wins, Jet. Not you, not me..." His words were forced. It was an effort to speak.
"Yeah... but you still lose, Quince. Your little mutiny has failed."
Quince roared loudly, pulling the trigger. Spike, who had watched the eerie tableau, like it was some old movie reel, finally snapped to reality with a cry. He lunged for Jet, who squeezed his eyes shut at the deafening gunshot.
But Jet was surprisingly unharmed. Behind him, Quince Lee Tarone, Jr., collapsed in a heap, the back of his head blown off. "What...?" Jet turned around carefully, having nearly messed his pants.
There was Angelina, clutching the Desert Eagle in both hands, smoke still issuing from the muzzle. Shaking violently, she dropped the gun, her mouth open. In deep shock, she stood there, her wild gray hair, sweaty and tangled, giving her the appearance of a madwoman on the loose.
"Angel!" Jet blinked, and went to her. Angelina covered her face, tears finally springing up. Burying her face in his chest, the woman cried silently, not for her departed nephew, but perhaps for the death of something else.
"Can't you hear the blues they be playin'
Yeah, the night life ain't no good life,
But I tell you,
It's my life"
It didn't take long for the ISSP to figure out what happened. Jet went to work, smooth-talking he and his crew out of trouble. Spike fluttered around the rescue operation, close enough to see what was going on, but just out of the reach of being a nuisance. Shin and Faye were laid on stretchers, Spike catching only one glimpse of the woman and man, before they were covered in a swarm of paramedics.
The list of casualties was short, but, fortunately, Faye and Shin wouldn't be added. Seven men of the mafia organization known as the Rising Pheonix (Quince being one of them), multimillionaire Jaques DeMonet, and one woman. Jet watched, remorsefully, as the body of Elenie was put into the ambulance, a tassel of her blonde hair peeking out from underneath the sheet that covered her.
Angelina, wrapped in a thick grey blanket, patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Jet." She knew Jet would be beating himself up over her death.
"Yeah..." Jet sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Are you..?"
"I'm fine, honey. Like I said, it'll take more than this to kill an old bird like me." Angel winked.
"You saved my life."
"Oh hell, Jet, it was nothing. You saved my ass, so it was the least I could do."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "So much for a vacation..."
"You're a cowboy, Jet. Cowboys don't get vacations."
"Yeah, well... what the hell do we get, then?"
"The eternal gratitude of the lives you've saved."
"I guess that reward is better than no reward at all..." Spike said, coming up behind them. Finally able to sate his nicotine fit, he took several long drags off of the cigarette he had bummed. He tossed the smoke to Jet, who took his share of puffs. Angelina took the last one, before dropping the butt onto the concrete. "It's a sad world, Jet. You know that as well as I do. But the important thing is that we gotta keep on livin'. We can't just give up because the cards don't fall our way..."
Jet raised an eyebrow. "Where the hell did you pick that up?"
Spike smiled his usual smile, his mismatched eyes sparkling. Like always, Spike was letting on that he knew more than he should. "Dying will do that to you."
Jet laughed, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Let's go home."
"You go ahead of me. I'm waiting for Shin and Faye."
"How are they?"
"Not a scratch on 'em. Just got their bells rung by the impact." Spike smiled a little. "Besides, it won't be very good on our part for them to find out about Shin's past and Faye's debts. And I gotta pick up the Swor-... OH SHIT."
Jet watched as Spike took off running. Blink blink blink. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Gods only know..." Angelina sighed quietly. "Now I see why you needed time off. 'S a strange bunch you've got there."
"Heh. True. But they're all I got, Angel. And when that's all you got, it works just fine."
"Spoken like a true cowboy."
Two hours later, Faye was back on the Bebop, which drifted silently, still in Mars' orbit. Dropping a cigarette onto the floor of the hangar, she listened to the mutterings of Jet, who was busy working on the Red Tail.
"Another part to be replaced... why the hell do you have to be so reckless..." She mouthed the words as Jet fumed. "I ain't made of money, yadda yadda yadda..." She leaned against the wall, rolling her eyes.
Edward then popped in. She'd been sleeping since two of the three missing Bebopers had come back. "Fayyeeee-Faaaaaaayeee!!" Edward gushed, wrapping her arms around Faye's legs. "Everyone is hoooommme!!"
"Yeah, Ed, we're home." Faye said quietly. Home. What a funny word that was. Home. But this was her home, and her family. It was small, unorthodox, and had a habit of being obnoxious, but it was hers.
The sound of the Bebop's hatch opening filled the room, and the walls and gates opened to reveal the Swordfish. Spike Spiegel climbed out of the ship, looking pissed off and weary. "This tin goddess never looked so good..." he sighed heavily, joining Faye against the wall. Slumping against it, he lit a cigarette.
"You'd better hope for your sake, Spike-O, that that ship of yours doesn't need repairs." Jet chuckled, taking a break.
Spike glared at him.
"What happened?"
Spike fished into his back pocket, withdrawing a slip of paper.
"Hm? What's this?" Reading the small, poorly printed words, Jet dropped the cloth he'd wiped his hands on.
Spike covered his eyes with his left hand, leaning his head back. "Three... two... one..."
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
"It's a...." Spike started, but Jet's stroke had only just begun.
"What the HELL did you do that it cost me 10,000 woolongs?!"
"I.. sorta... ran over my dock time..." he mumbled. "And... when they went... to tow the Swordfish... I ...kinda... got into a fight... and they added the damages... to my bill..."
Faye giggled. "Idiot."
"Idiot-widieot lunnnnkkkheeaaaAAAAAAADD!!" Ed chimed in, sitting in the middle of the three adults. Ein barked, pogoing on his short legs.
Steeping his fingers into his temple, Jet growled softly under his breath. "I can't believe this. Just when we finally get some cash, you gotta go blow it all."
At that moment, Faye smiled at Spike. She was off the hook this time. And speaking of off the hook...
The com unit in Jet's back pocket began to ring frantically. Still shooting death rays at his green-haired partner, he clicked the unit on. It was Shin.
"Oh...pardon me, sir. ...is Spike there?"
Thrusting his chin over Jet's shoulder, he looked down at the tiny screen. "Yeah?"
"There's an APB out on a few escaped cons. Rumor has it they're members of an old syndicate called..." Shin smirked. "The Rising Pheonix."
Spike's eyebrows went up. "Oh? No kidding..?" He tried to sound surprised, but there was a grin on his face.
"Each bounty is over 50,000 woolongs. ...are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
Spike looked up at Faye, and over at Jet. Each had this look on their face. Like it was back to the old days. But something was different now. There was a better understanding between them. They were, after all, a family. He returned his gaze to the com, his eyes sparkling. "Count us in."
"All right." the young man winked, and signed off.
Spike stood erect, lighting another cigarette. Faye could only smile sexily, and put her hands on her hips. "Let's go, boys. We're back in business."
Jet snorted, his lighter sparking as he lit a cigar. Both men exhaled a cloud of smoke, looking at each other. Both grinned, and clapped their hands together. Old partners were reunited, the bond now unbreakable between the three. Spiegel's arm wound around Faye's waist. The three exchanged glances, and their response was unanimous.
"Yeehaa."
--Saddle up, Space Cowboy.