(I do NOT own Cowboy Bebop, and yes I threw in some cameo appearances from other things as well. Miles Speigel is MY creation however, so please don't steal him!)
All in a day's work(pt 1)
"He was a loving husband, an adoring father, and to many a good friend." The priest continued with the service as the rain began to fall. Spike Spiegel bowed his head as a lengthy prayer was said to the crowd. Jet Black put a hand on his shoulder, showing his sympathy.
After the service was over, Spike calmly said, "I'll be alright." Although Albert Wesker had been a good friend, he would not be overcome by grief. Spike had been to many funerals in his day, and although on the surface he appeared to be cold and uncaring, underneath was another matter. He sighed and stepped towards the coffin, which contained the body of a very old friend. Removing a set of paper clipped white roses from his suit, he pulled them free and handed them to as many people as possible.
"Nothing like a funeral to get Spike in a generous mood," Faye Valentine muttered to Jet. Spike scowled at her as he shoved the paperclip into his pocket.
"Faye, for a single moment in your life can you just shut the hell up?" Spike snapped. Faye backed down reluctantly, lucky for him that she felt sorry for him. If not Spike would already have had a few teeth missing. As Spike approached the coffin with his rose, he noticed a glimmer of green on the top of it. Reaching out, he grasped the soft, small item. It was a green rose. Why did that feel so familiar to him? Spike shrugged, threw down his rose and gave a small smile. "Goodbye Wesker old friend." He walked back to his teammates, cool and in control. "Let's go."
Faye gently grabbed his arm, "Don't you want to stay awhile? It's alright you know, we can wait."
"No," Spike shook his head. "It's time to go." Jet nodded and began to follow Spike back to the ship when a small beeping noise caused Spike to stop. He reached into
his tight fitting blue suit and pulled out a small comm.-device with a built in view screen. He had a similar one on his watch, which patched him directly through to his fellow crewmates. This was an outside call then, maybe another job that needed his bounty hunter expertise? Pressing the jade TALK button, he almost fell down in shock at the sight of the man staring back at him through the screen.
"Spike," Albert Wesker said professionally. The man was tall, in good shape and always sported a pair of dark sunglasses. His dark blonde hair was slicked back as usual. He smirked at Spike, " Oh come on, you didn't think I was dead did you? This is all a hoax pal, I'm caught up in something bad. Meet me at the docks to the North of the cemetery. I'll explain everything there. Goodbye Spike." The screen faded to black, leaving Spike standing there having just been spoken to by his dead friend. It had been a closed casket service after all, perhaps….
Jet approached him, "Uh, Spike?" The burly man scratched his bald head with his right arm, which was a replacement metal limb. "Was that who I thought it was?"
Spike lit a cigarette and said, "Jet, I have to go…now. I need you to help me with something."
Jet shrugged, "I guess so Spike, what's up?"
Spike sighed, "This is going to sound really strange, and I don't want any questions or anything. I need you to find out as fast as possible if Albert Wesker is in that coffin."
Jet nodded, "I hear ya, but with all this family here it might take a second."
"Just hurry up," Spike called back to him as he sped off to the North. As he exited the graveyard through the large rusty gates he suddenly saw a man standing in the midst of all the mourners. He saw a flash of white and blue, and then he was gone, just like that. Could It have been….Spike shook his head, "Not possible," he said as he took off towards the docks again. Still, as he ran he could not shake off the feeling that he was being watched.
Spike reached his destination shortly thereafter. Glancing around, he scanned the area for his old friend. C'mon Jet, hurry up with that coffin. He ran a hand through his wily green hair and sat down on an old, damp, dirty bench. Why would Wesker want to meet me here? Above all places a dirty, run down boat dock? And who would want him to think that Albert was dead? Spike shrugged, "Thank god Viscious didn't show up at the funeral, I don't feel like killing him today." He realized he was talking to himself and grunted, rolling up his sleeves with long, but tremendously strong arms. Suddenly his watches screen beeped and lit up, and Jet's frantic face filled the tiny monitor. Before he could get a word off, Spike held up a finger, "Ah, this is great, the sea air, a beautiful sunset, the light rain." He took a deep breath and let it out dramatically. Jet's eyes widened and he let out a series of rambles. No longer interested in punishing Jet for making him wait so long, Spike asked patiently, "What did you find?" Jet's eyes were wild, darting back and forth. Jet's never this panicked. "What's wrong man?" he asked, now curious and more than a little concerned.
Jet whispered, "Dammit Spike, Wesker's body is in the coffin, I'm…I don't have time. I've got to get out of…Ah!" A sharp wince of pain was the last thing Jet could spit out, and then the monitor went dark.
Spike bolted out of his seat, "God I hate traps." A second later he was reminded why when a shovel came crashing down on the back of his head. Landing on his back, Spike peered through his hazy vision and saw another flash of blue and white before he fell into darkness.
"Man, you guys are pathetic!", Miles Speigel laughed at the three younger boys.
Spike grinned at his older brother, "You're like five years older than us, slow down!" Miles just laughed and sped up the snowy hill, leaving Spike with his two friends.
Viscious and Albert Wesker caught up to him, "Man Spike," Wesker said. "Your brother is fast," the boy pulled off his sunglasses, wiping his sweaty brow.
Viscious raised his gun, a six shot revolver oddly equipped with laser sighting. "Let's go get him," Viscious grinned, spinning the plastic cap gun on his finger, which had a small laser pointer duck taped to the orange tipped barrel.
Spike raised his own water gun and nodded, "Attack team!" Laughing, the three boys crested the hill. Albert suddenly was struck in the face by a cannonball, and fell down twitching.
"Man down!" Miles yelled, laughing as he ran away once more.
Spike meanwhile kneeled down and wiped the snowball fragments from Albert's face. "You did not die in vain soldier, we'll get him." Albert grinned and continued to play dead as Viscious and Spike took pursuit.
Spike awoke with a dopey grin spread wide across his face. He had almost forgotten about those good old days, when he, Wesker, Viscious, and Miles had all been one gang. Miles, his older brother hadn't been around in a very long time. Come to think of it, ever since Miles had left their home in his early teens, had Spike seen him even once? And as for Viscious, well everyone knew how he had turned out. A murderer, a back-stabber, even a maniac. Wesker had stuck with him though, always trying to stay in touch whether it had been going out for a drink or inviting him to his families home for the holidays. But hadn't Spike just been waiting for Wesker? No…Jet's call echoed through his head, and Spike was suddenly overcome by grief. Wesker was dead all over again. So had that been a pre-recorded message? All Spike knew was that his head hurt like hell, and he didn't think it was just because of thinking. He had been knocked out, but taken where?
Opening his eyes he was not surprised to see the barrel of a shotgun in his face. The gun's wielder called over his shoulder, "Sir, he's awake!" Eager footsteps approached, but from his vantage point on the ground all Spike could see were a pair of dark leather shoes and a tight fitting white suit. He couldn't turn his head far enough to see the man's face, but he somehow recognized the man anyway.
Maybe it was because the suit he wore was his exact replica, except for the color. Or maybe because also like him the man appeared to be tall, lanky, and he had his sleeves rolled up the same way he did. For a moment he thought he was somehow looking into a mirror, until the man spoke in a cold voice, "Put him in the chair."
Spike knew that voice, but from where…Maybe an old vengeful bounty? As he was lifted up and into a hard wooden chair, he noticed the mysterious man had a green rose tucked into his breast pocket. He muttered in confusion, his vision still blurred.
"Who. Who are you?"
The man's face was hidden in shadow, but a familiar voice drifted out of the darkness. "Do you not remember me Spike? Come now, you must remember me." Spike saw the man pull out a deck of playing cards, and watched as he shuffled them with dizzying speed and expertise. "In fact, I'm willing to bet you do," he chuckled as he flipped the first card from the top of the deck and held it in front of Spike's face. An old worn photo of a young Albert Wesker had been taped to a Joker.
Spike shook his head, trying to see or even think clearly. "I recognize your voice. You wear clothes like mine, and I know that rose. I saw one at the funeral, a green rose."
The mysterious figure was clearly disappointed, and he shuffled the deck again, this time pulling two more cards. "That can't be all you've deduced Mr. Speigel, you are a bounty hunter. You're supposed to be quick, smart, and strong am I correct? Surely a good memory should go along with all those other wonderful talents." Spike could not see his face, but he knew that this familiar stranger was grinning like a shark. He glanced down at the pair of cards and a groan escaped his throat.
He saw it now, it was all too clear. The two cards were identical to the first, only replaced with photos of a young Viscious and Spike. He started to kick outward and buck his head, trying to get free as the man started shuffling the deck again, leaning in close to Spike. He squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't want to see the next card, he couldn't see the next card! The man pulled one more card and snapped Spike's head backwards by his hair, making him cry out in anguish and open his eyes. Through tears of pain he saw the card, already knowing whose face would be taped on it.
It was the Ace of Spades, and smiling at him in an old, yellowed picture was Miles Speigel, a direct contrast to the snarl on the face of his current self. Spike knew it was him, obviously it was his brother. The blue hair, almost identical face…but something was different this time around. Had his brother always been this….crazy?
