Noir Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ One Night ❯ Chapter 1

A cloud of smoke drifted though the dark pool hall. A line of shadows sat against the bar, the figures moving only to drown sorrows and memories away in whisky and various other poisons. Two figures circled a poorly lit billiards table, casting both men into shadows holding sticks in hand. The first, a tall, lanky man dressed in an old navy blue suit. His dark greed hair stood several inches above his head in sloppy unkempt curls. A cigarette burned in his lips, allowing a small glimpse of his handsome face as he watched the other. The second man, a shorter heavier man in his late thirties, a deeply receding hairline and wearing a dirty white tee-shirt which at one time had read something that had long since faded past being unreadable. The shorter man bent over the table, squinting as he lined up his shot, which only made the wrinkles around his tired eyes more obvious. The man called his shot, a low grunt-like sound exiting his throat, “Eight, corner pocket.”

 

A loud crack sounded as the black and white balls collided. The white ball coming to a slow halt, the black ricocheting off the far side of the table before falling into the near side corner pocket. The taller man let out an audible curse as he pulled several bills from his pocket and put them on the table before walking out of the bar. A few moments later, a woman made her way out from her seat in a nearly completely shadowed corner of the establishment.

 

Spike Speigel walked down the dark streets. It was nearly midnight and outside of the occasional street lamp, the sidewalk was nearly black. He took a slow drag of his smoke before tossing the cigarette away, the orange ash exploding into a brilliant shower of embers as it hit the concrete. The bounty hunter placed his hands his pockets, craning his neck up to examine an empty night sky as he continued on at his normal, unhurried pace. Spike suddenly felt a strange and indescribable sense of dread, an intuition honed over years as a syndicate thug, and later bounty hunter. Quickly spinning around, Spike raised his fists into his fighting stance.

 

He found himself ill prepared to face his stalker. In his prosthetic right eye memories came flooding back. Days of past years came rushing to the forefront of his mind as details came back as vividly as if they were now. Syndicate jobs with a strange, silver haired partner. Standing in the rain, an empty cemetery as the bundle of red roses fell from his hand. Waking up from death to see the smiling face of his love, happily humming a song to herself. Reality again returned to Spike from his waking dream as he sees the person facing him in the light of a street lamp. His lips moved of their own accord, unconsciously speaking the name of whom his flashbacks had focused on, “Julia.”

 

Another moment gone and realization dawned upon the Cowboy. The woman, no more than six feet away from him, was not his lost love. He looked at the girl, her long blonde hair and sky blue eyes gave her a resemblance to Julia, but this one was quite different. The woman was shorter than the one Spike had known. Also, while Julia was what some would consider a strange sort of plain beauty, one that could grab the attention and infatuation of all around her without any part of her being what many would call perfect, this stranger was truly stunning. She wore a deep red sleeveless silk top and a black leather miniskirt. Her light blue eyes sparkled with what seemed to be a strange mirth, like she was a child who knew a secret about him, and her pink lips were twisted into a predatory grin as she reached into a designer purse she held in her left hand.

 

Mireille Bouquet took hold of her gun. Her target, a free-lance bounty hunter by the name of Spike Speigel had still yet to make a move, despite the fact that he had spotted her, this still should turn out an easy assignment she thought to herself. She quickly released the safety on her Walther P99 as she removed the pistol from her bag. As she took aim at the objective, Spike suddenly made his move. The quick man knocked her hand away, forcing the shot to miss its mark by several feet. He threw another punch at the girl, unfortunately for Spike the assassin was prepared for the attack this time. Her Uncle Claude had taught instructed her in hand to hand combat and now it was coming into use. Dropping her purse she ducked Spike's attack and counteredwith a strong left to his mouth. The man staggered back, quickly wiping away a small stream of blood from his split lip. A cocky grin crossed his face as he spoke, “You know, I gotta say that I like it when a girl can fight.” He began, resuming his fighting stance, “Besides, after the night I've had, kicking a little ass sounds pretty good.”

 

Spike again rushed the smaller girl, striking several times at her. Mireille did her best to block or evade as many attacks as possible but it quickly became apparent that the more experienced martial artiest had the upper hand. Spike connected with a hook, knocking Mireille several steps backwards. Spike once again went attempt another punch, only to see the blonde raise her gun to him. The bounty hunter attempted to avoid her shot diving to his right. He found himself too slow, wincing as he felt the bullet tear through his shoulder. He looked up to see that his attacker was still gathering herself from his blow. He quickly returned to his feet, spiriting into the safety of a dark alleyway. The red-clad assassin was quick to grab her purse and follow in pursuit.

 

Spike was quick to take shelter, knowing he was still not free yet took cover behind a dumpster. Taking a quick peek saw the girl still stalking him, gun pointed foreword prepared to shoot at any moment. Lowering his head he used his good arm to remove his pistol from a shoulder holster. With only his good arm he fired off several aimless shots at the killer. At the first shot Mireille dove into a nearby doorway. The small area providing her with just enough cover to keep her safe. She pressed her body against her cover, exposing as little of her body as possible. She squeezed off several rounds at the dumpster that she saw her target firing from, her angle giving her a better angle at her target than he of her.

 

Her shots missed the bounty hunter by mere inches. Spike was forced to make a desperate retreat. Spiriting further down the alley, barley kept himself ahead of the assassin's aim. The pavement bursting where the woman's bullets missed. As the turned the corner and pressed himself against the wall, Mireille moved from her position to take the dumpster Spike had previously occupied. In her new position, the blonde took a fresh clip from her purse and reloaded.

 

Speigel took several deep breaths, preparing his next move. Readying himself he turned the corner rushing the last place he saw the girl. Sprinting to the doorway he watched as a blonde head peaked around the dumpster. He watched in what seemed slow motion as she raised her gun and took fire.

 

Her first shot tore though Spike's abdomen. The green haired man, fell to one knee. He looked up to see the woman slowly walking to the larger him. In desperation, he quickly raised his gun hoping to kill eliminate the attacker. He pulled the trigger, watching as she also fired another round at him. His shot was off, only catching Mireille in the left high. Her bullet tore another hole though his stomach. Spike fell on his back as the woman limped toward him.

 

Spike Speigel, master bounty hunter, pulled his last cigarette from his pocket. Though the pain of three gunshots wounds, lit his final smoke. His eyes teared as he inhaled. Tendrils of smoke curling into the night. Past became present as he looked down his killer's weapon. Blood filling his mouth, Spike choked out his last words. “Who are you?”

 

The Corsican woman, her face an empty slate, devoid of any emotion or feeling replied with one syllable. “Noir.”

 

He smiled at his new knowledge, closing his eyes one last time. In his right eye, Spike Speigel saw the smiling face of a familiar blonde woman sitting above him. She quietly hummed a song to herself as she looked down at his wounded body.

 

One final gunshot sounded off in the night. Echoing though out the empty streets. Mireille looked down the smoking pistol at the concrete, freshly stained crimson.

 

The hole in the green haired man's head.

 

Returning her gun to her bag, Mireille Bouquet limped back to her hotel.

At the other end of the city, in a large office building serving as a front for the Red Dragon crime syndicate, small Japanese girl stood amongst the corpses of the members. She looked to all the bodies of former bodyguards to the boss. A moment later, her sad brown eyes finding her original target, a silver haired with cold blue eyes. The black-clad Mafioso examined the small girl, his intense eyes staring deep into the quiet girl. He stood, unmoving for several seconds a twisted sneer crossing his lips. “You are a creature neither man nor beast.” The intimidating man spoke, his hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword, “You are death itself.”

 

Drawing the blade, the Red Dragon's top enforcer charged the girl who intended to kill him. His would-be assassin, Kirika Yumora, could only watch as she saw steel appearing from the scabbard.

 

Vicious lay on his back, eyes wide open, still reflecting his anger, sadness, and pain; his katana now lay at his side. The melancholy Japanese girl looked at all the men she had killed and tried to feel something, sadness, pride, empathy, anything. Once again Kirika Yumora was left with that same feeling of emptiness. Turning away from the carnage she caused the young girl began her trek back to her hotel, praying that her blonde partner's mission had similar results.