Mouth Wide Shut Chapter 1: banshee, a cowboy bebop fanfic

COWBOY BEBOP is copyrighted by SUNRISE · BONES · BANDAI VISUAL 1998

In your minds, I know you're wondering how many times I'll push Casablanca back, to make way for something new. But with all the work I've gotten with school, and soccer practice and games 6 days a week, I hardly have time. Anyway, I decided on writing an alternate universe fanfiction.

Mouth Wide Shut

"They're out to get you,
demons lurking close at every turn,
they will possess you." – Michael Jackson

Luscious fields reveled in the dusky horizon's hues of vibrant pinks, and blazing reds, mixing in a mesh of purple against the frosty tones of blue. Among the rolling lands and flat plateaus, glowing yellows, oranges, and reds, seemed to erupt from the logs and ground in a bonfire being fed life, and giving warmth to the humans around it.

Among the sparks, lilting dark brown eyes bore into an opposite pair, his spirits flying with the wisps of smoke surrounding the group. Their college friends' raucous laughter filling the atmosphere like music, her mouth twisting into a playful smile.

He smiled back, bracing himself to join her on the other side, to sit among her girlfriends and her. His hands pressed into the stringy moor of grass, feeling the earth's soil kneed beneath the pads of his fingers. His muscles flexed as he hoisted himself up, only to be pat on the back by one of his own friends. Within his comrade's hand a barren Samuel Adams was clutched by it's glassy nozzle.

Carefree grins shared, and a proposition of "Spin the Bottle," all join in a circle, with the heat licking their backs. Squished between two of his athletic friends, some of his nervous jumpy behavior ebbs away, only to be completely swept away with the way her aroma wafted over him from directly across. Her hair blowing to the right, as his mimicked, his raven locks matching her own noire strands.

Her pert fingers traveling over the bottle, resting on its base. With a sure flick, it spun, only to end pointing at him. He smirked and she fidgeted, words formed as he witnessed her tense body begin to lift her up the ground, "Alisa you spun it, now you have to kiss me."

Alisa sputtered, "But Rhint, I-I-"

Noises of protest occurred, as they all witnessed the two finally making their affections public. Those drunk, shouted, "Kiss the poor guy," and many of the girls swooned at the quintessence of shy love.

"You'll have to kiss me," he felt like the man, the guy who finally got the girl, he was more confident, more confident because of her … because of her love. He felt it; he felt her love, warm like the flames turned blue.

She felt him growing stronger, she felt abashed to know she was the cause that created him to be sure of himself. Was queasy that he inflicted the same emotions within her … these tingling sensations of … heat, no … of love. Her eyes sent a cursory glance of his pouting face, long strands flew out behind him, and his chocolate eyes tracing her moves like a student, precise, registering her actions. Rhint's exhilarated smile helped wash away his usual daunting grimace; he was living for once because of her. She wanted to test this theory.

He saw Alisa's navy eyes twinkle mischievously; it didn't matter because she was slowly approaching him. There was something funny about the way her mouth twitched, itching to break away from its straight line. He could feel her bodily warmth from far away; his heart must've been beating louder then the joyous cries of his peers. He could witness her hips sway slightly, he smiled and closed his eyes, and her breath tickled his face, almost taunting him.

He looked peaceful, eyes closed and lips smiling awaiting his life's reward. She was in control, able to do what she wanted to do, to be the one to decide, and it was the most rewarding. "I'm," his grin was dropping slightly, "not," now his face began to twitch, "going to kiss you!" and tapped his nose and scrammed.

His eyes flew open, and he groaned. "Alisa, you'll kiss me, even if I have to chase you into those woods." And he ran after her, in to the seemingly peaceful trees. They were all aligned in neat rows, one after another, equally distanced, and foreboding. "Where are you Alisa, you're making this harder!"

Her breathing was ragged, and her body shook with excitement, her oaf of a boyfriend was only two feet behind her, and he still couldn't find her. These trees served a purpose; they shielded her perfectly from his view. Crunches of leaves could be heard, as he slowly was coming towards her, covering her shaking mouth, Alisa tried concealing her giggling.

"I coming, Alisa!" Rhint ran straight, positive that her scent was intoxicating him, for he didn't know where she went. Suddenly up ahead a large, grandeur mansion stood erect among the trees. The house oozed opulence, and he moaned, "Alisa, if you ran in there, I won't save you if the owner won't let you go! Alisa, just come out! Alisa, just kiss me! Alisa, please! One kiss, I promise, please!"

His voice traveled over to her, and she finally let her voice flow. Waves of girlish giggles erupted after every absurd line he recited to the house. Her feet made movements to walk backwards, intent on leaving him until he gave up and returned to the campsite. Besides, it was getting increasingly cold around her, her hair prickled, and a gust of wind sent the back of her hair flying wayward, running with the gust of wind a scream echoed.

Immediately her arms wrapped around her, Alisa was rapidly becoming uncomfortable residing inside the forest. In the distance she could hear an object approaching. She turned around, only to duck and on coming crow. Another agonized scream erupted, and her hair flew waywardly once more. Despite her calming words, she felt scared, something was wrong. She wanted to be with Rhint, she wanted to be safe.

A feeling overcame her, and she looked upwards, and screamed, screamed like the fury of a hurricane.

Rhint's head instantaneously snapped back hearing Alisa's desperate scream. "Alisa!" He ran back into the grove of trees, he ran back to help her, to keep her safe.

A man appeared to be busy writing and studying his scriptures in the poorly lighted table among the infinite books that lied on the upper level of his home. Slowly he put down his pen from his fake hand, and stroked his chin through the tiny beard that protruded. Rubbing his eyes, he turned around at hearing a thunderous sound. "Meifa, was anyone at the door?"

"No, Mr. Jet, it must've been the thunder and lightening outside playing with you." Meifa smiled at her employer to reassure him.

"Alright," and Jet turned towards his work once more. Picking up an exam essay off a pile pushed to the right, he began reading through it. Two sentences into the history of Feng-Shui, Jet's hand roamed to a big book, and his fingers skimmed to page 265. Suspicions proved, a large "F" was placed in the corner, as Professor Black wrote, "Lin, please plagiarize a chapter that has not been written by me. If you have forgotten 'Feng-Shui Trough the Ages' is written by me."

Tiredly, Jet picked up another essay. As he began correcting the poor grammar, Meifa announced a Chief Police Inspector had arrived to speak with him. Walking to the staircase, he looked over the indoor balcony, and saw the inspector standing rigidly by the door. "Police Officer?"

"Professor Jet Black, we need your help identifying a certain …situation."

"I don't work for the ISSP anymore, plus you have those big shots down in the office to fix this situation."

"No, we are asking you as a Professor specializing in philosophy, the mind, history, and … the supernatural."

"Feng-Shui? You could always read my book, I don't do interior decorating on demand," Jet sneered.

"No, Professor, something more irregular." The inspector had an desperate look, and a cracked "please," pulled Black Dog along.

Blinding white light, white rooms, they all hurt his eyes. It was making him crazy, it was too exorcist like. Jet Black's eyes traveled down the hallway to see a man with long black hair being treated with a shoulder wound. The cast had turned red with drying blood, and the young man's eyes seemed to have aged almost 50 years. Swollen, and bloodshot, they drooped with more then lovesickness rejection.

The officer, who brought the infamous Black Dog, saw what Jet was looking at. In a whispered voice he breathed, "Him and his friends were camping near the forest. In the grove his girlfriend inflicted that wound on him."

Looking straight Jet replied, "and that has to do with me because?"

"The girlfriend seems to be … possessed."

"Take me to her."

Professor Black looked within the room. Computers were tracing wild heartbeats and erratic pulsing. Brain message decoders were not able to reach the intensity of the brain vibrancies. And piles of sedatives were stacked near the corner of a glass room window. Inside laid a young woman, strapped down by her arms and feet.

Her hair was wild, and her body swerved as if being torn from the inside. The nurses couldn't get to her, and the bonds weren't putting up a good fight. Her screams were horrifying, and her jerky movements were enough to break and shatter every bone in her body, the intensity of which she continued to bang her head against her pillow made you wonder why her neck hadn't snapped yet.

All of a sudden she sat up straight, and her voice was as shrill as a banshee's, "YOU CAN'T PUT ME AWAY! I WILL GET MY VENGENCE. YOU WILL NOT STOP ME. YOU CAN'T HIDE. YOU CAN'T HIDE!" Her head continually banged against the pillow, until the nurses were able to sedate her with morphine, so that she only twitched.

Looking to the side, Jet, grumbling, stated, "None of this would help her. All these machines … they're useless. She has been possessed, possessed by anger, by revenge." Turning to Rhint, Jet asked, "Do you want to help her?"

"Of course I do … I love her." Rhint looked sodden and miserable and Jet felt disgusted for a moment. This kid couldn't have saved her.

"You have to take me to where you found her." The boy wasn't even breathing, "Now." All it took was Jet Black's stern voice to move him.

"This was where I found her."

"Did you notice anything wrong with her?"

"No, she seemed fine. I asked her why she screamed, and she said to lead me to her."

"When you went to hold her, to embrace her, even then you didn't notice anything different?" There must've have been something. This kid was desperately thinking, his eyes were forlorn he was hiding something. "There must've been something. It will help save her."

"Her eyes … they weren't her navy ones, but dark and … angry. I felt cold when I touched her." To amplify his statement Rhint remembered her touch and shivered.

Jet took out his spiritual and holy necklace, letting it hang, he watched it move it. There was no air, but it still moved in every direction, as if it was being tossed in every which way. In a low whisper, "Something unholy and bad has occurred here. There are two types of spirits, one that use the body to channel a final message. Then they peacefully go, just as they came, then there are the tortured, vengeful spirits. Your friend has been conceived by the second, and until we find out what exactly happened, your friend's body will not hold this spirit's will to destruct."

Rhint's eyes watered; finally he regained himself and looked up. His mouth set, he set out to speak, "I will help save her." Shoulder's squared he was determined. A loud ringing sound shook him as he took his cell phone from his pocket.

Audibly, "Rhint, man, it's Alisa. She's," cracking voice, "she's dead, man." Fingers lax, the cell phone slid out and hit the ground in a soft thud.

A banshee's wail always meant death.

Note- Well, there you go folks. My prologue. Now that I got that done, you'll be reading our major players next chapter. I know it isn't the best, but please read and review.