Spike Spiegel, bounty hunter extraordinaire, slumped over, sipping his drink slowly. He watched the deep red liquid slosh around in the glass, reminded once again of how much it looked like blood.
It had been a year since he said goodbye to the crew of the Bebop and struck out on his own. A long, lonely year, of scattered bounties, little money, and too much drinking.
Last he heard, Jet had retired, found himself a wife, and opened a bar on Io, called 'The Black Dog'.
Ed and Ein had moved to a boarding school on Earth, where they had adjusted quite nicely and were already wanted for hacking into the governments restricted files.
Spike's wistful smile faded as he thought of the last member of the crew.
Faye… He remembered the last time he had seen her.
"Goodbye Spike…I wish I…" She stopped and looked down at where a deep red river ran over her hand. "I-I'm sorry…" her eyes sought his, as her body relaxed. "Goodbye Spike…"
He jerked up, and stood, impatiently running his fingers through his unruly hair. He strode out of the saloon, the wooden doors flapping behind him.
As he walked, his boots kicked of tiny puffs of dust, and the hot sun beat mercilessly on his back. He curled his fingers around his glass, realizing that he had brought his drink with him.
A sudden volley of gunshot sent Spike flying behind a nearby pile of crates. Bullets zinged through the wood, and whistled overhead, as he crouched behind the makeshift barrier. Spike looked down, checking for bullet wounds. He was horrified to see a dark red stain across the front of his jacket, and the fluid dripping onto the dry ground…
"Alright boys, no use beating a dead horse…or rather a dead man…"
The forwarding figure in the attackers holstered her gun and strode forward. She grinned when she saw a dark red puddle seeping out from under the crates. "Looks like he didn't fare too well…" she chuckled and headed towards the barrier.
"What the hell?!" There was a deep red puddle of blood, but no Spike Spiegel.
The lady stared at the puddle while her comrades checked the surrounding area, or stood swearing in shock.
Suddenly, she crouched and dipped a finger in the puddle.
"Miss! What the hell 'ya doin'? That there's blood!"
She paid the outburst no mind, delicately licking the blood off her finger.
She chuckled slowly, regarding her finger with good-humored annoyance. "Windyard, 2071. Good year for red wines."
The men stared at her as if she had told them that she was retiring to become a nun.
"This isn't blood. This is wine! Don't you get it? He faked us out!"
She shook her head wryly, and turned swiftly on her heel. "I guess he'll die another day…"
Spike grinned as he watched the men depart, shaking their heads and cursing. He looked down at his ruined shirt. Stain remover probably doesn't work on wine…He shook his head, and checked to make sure the attackers had left.
To his surprise, the mysterious lady was still there, standing next to her sleek fighter-ship. She shaded her eyes and looked directly at where Spike was hiding. She chuckled and shook her head. "You're a lucky man, Spike Spiegel, a lucky man." She saluted him mockingly, and vaulted into her ship.
Spike shook his head as the fighter disappeared into the distance.
A lucky man, eh? Is this lucky?