CHAPTER THREE
Jet Black busied himself making repairs to his old fishing ship. Soon, he thought, the ship would be completely transformed into the Bebop. He listened to Big Shots as he worked, keen to find a new bounty head.
"And here's our newest bounty, amigos." A picture and reward flashed on the screen. "Spike Spiegel, and he's worth this comfortable bounty."
"Geez, he's kinda cute to have a bounty on his head. What did he do?"
"He's wanted for the kidnapping of a young woman."
"Gosh that's bad! Well, he can kidnap me anytime."
Jet looked up from his task and observed Spike's photograph. "Hmmm..." he thought aloud. "He doesn't look too tough. And the bounty's just enough to pay for the last of the repairs." He grinned and went back to work; he would soon begin his search for this harmless kidnapper.
* * * *
"I hate you, Spike Speigel!" Samantha screamed.
Spike sighed. How long had she been going on like that? At least an hour, he was certain. "Then let me just add you to my list, okay?"
She flung up her arms. "How can you... How can you POSSIBLY joke around like that?"
He shrugged.
At that point, he had even forgotten what the huge fuss was even about. Samantha was scared, and when she got scared she got angry. He was never quite sure what she was so scared of, though; he had strayed so far from fear that he could no longer empathize with the emotion. There was no fear in him, only despair.
"Maybe we just need a break..." he suggested idly. "We should take trip somewhere. Let's drive out to the beach today."
"What about that bounty hunter? Everyone's looking for you, Spike!" She rested her hand against his cheek. "What's going on? Can't you just tell me what's the matter?" She looked pleadingly into his eyes, and kissed him.
He pushed her away. "Look just forget it. Why the hell do you care?" He turned his back to her and went over to his window. He lit a cigarette and watched the clouds move through the sky.
* * * *
When Samantha returned from work the next day, Spike was gone. An empty shot glass was left on the coffee table beside a tall bottle. She dropped onto the couch and sighed as she filled the glass. She held it in her hands for a few moments, swishing around shiny amber liquid, but didn't drink. She set the glass back down and cried.
Spike, meanwhile, whistled as he strolled down lively streets with his hands in pockets. He lived in a beautiful town. It was filled with a jubilant energy that he had not seen anywhere else in all of his life. This was a place where people went to settle when they had everything figured out. This is where people went when they were ready to live a happy life. It was obvious, of course, that this was no place for Spike. Memories still weighed him down to such an extent that he could hardly stand the beating of his own stone heart.
"You don't seem yourself, Spike," Vicious had told him one cold evening.
"Yeah, that figures. I don't feel myself," Spike had responded. "The cold weather never puts me in the brightest of moods."
Vicious nodded. "I can understand... Although, the cold has never bothered me much." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver necklace. He smiled sarcastically at it. "What do you think of this? I picked it up the other day. I thought it would look nice on Julia."
Spike looked at the necklace, saying nothing.
Vicious's eyes met with Spike's; there was a moment of searching; of wondering, of knowing. "Do you think she'll like it, Spike?" Vicious asked darkly. Spike was left to wonder, why does he draw this out? Does he know? Vicious's glance was piercing.
"It's great," Spike answered at last. That was when things had begun to unravel months ago.
It was not so long ago that that conversation had occured. It seemed to Spike to be forever. It seemed to be only hours. He had now made his way into a public park. He sat down on the first bench he found, for it was too troubling to try and walk and reminisce at the same time. He placed his hands over his face; such thoughts were exhausting. There was a light clicking noise by his ear.
Jet Black stood beside him, holding a gun to his neck. "Spike Spiegel, am I right?"
A bounty hunter. Spike grinned.
Jet Black busied himself making repairs to his old fishing ship. Soon, he thought, the ship would be completely transformed into the Bebop. He listened to Big Shots as he worked, keen to find a new bounty head.
"And here's our newest bounty, amigos." A picture and reward flashed on the screen. "Spike Spiegel, and he's worth this comfortable bounty."
"Geez, he's kinda cute to have a bounty on his head. What did he do?"
"He's wanted for the kidnapping of a young woman."
"Gosh that's bad! Well, he can kidnap me anytime."
Jet looked up from his task and observed Spike's photograph. "Hmmm..." he thought aloud. "He doesn't look too tough. And the bounty's just enough to pay for the last of the repairs." He grinned and went back to work; he would soon begin his search for this harmless kidnapper.
* * * *
"I hate you, Spike Speigel!" Samantha screamed.
Spike sighed. How long had she been going on like that? At least an hour, he was certain. "Then let me just add you to my list, okay?"
She flung up her arms. "How can you... How can you POSSIBLY joke around like that?"
He shrugged.
At that point, he had even forgotten what the huge fuss was even about. Samantha was scared, and when she got scared she got angry. He was never quite sure what she was so scared of, though; he had strayed so far from fear that he could no longer empathize with the emotion. There was no fear in him, only despair.
"Maybe we just need a break..." he suggested idly. "We should take trip somewhere. Let's drive out to the beach today."
"What about that bounty hunter? Everyone's looking for you, Spike!" She rested her hand against his cheek. "What's going on? Can't you just tell me what's the matter?" She looked pleadingly into his eyes, and kissed him.
He pushed her away. "Look just forget it. Why the hell do you care?" He turned his back to her and went over to his window. He lit a cigarette and watched the clouds move through the sky.
* * * *
When Samantha returned from work the next day, Spike was gone. An empty shot glass was left on the coffee table beside a tall bottle. She dropped onto the couch and sighed as she filled the glass. She held it in her hands for a few moments, swishing around shiny amber liquid, but didn't drink. She set the glass back down and cried.
Spike, meanwhile, whistled as he strolled down lively streets with his hands in pockets. He lived in a beautiful town. It was filled with a jubilant energy that he had not seen anywhere else in all of his life. This was a place where people went to settle when they had everything figured out. This is where people went when they were ready to live a happy life. It was obvious, of course, that this was no place for Spike. Memories still weighed him down to such an extent that he could hardly stand the beating of his own stone heart.
"You don't seem yourself, Spike," Vicious had told him one cold evening.
"Yeah, that figures. I don't feel myself," Spike had responded. "The cold weather never puts me in the brightest of moods."
Vicious nodded. "I can understand... Although, the cold has never bothered me much." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver necklace. He smiled sarcastically at it. "What do you think of this? I picked it up the other day. I thought it would look nice on Julia."
Spike looked at the necklace, saying nothing.
Vicious's eyes met with Spike's; there was a moment of searching; of wondering, of knowing. "Do you think she'll like it, Spike?" Vicious asked darkly. Spike was left to wonder, why does he draw this out? Does he know? Vicious's glance was piercing.
"It's great," Spike answered at last. That was when things had begun to unravel months ago.
It was not so long ago that that conversation had occured. It seemed to Spike to be forever. It seemed to be only hours. He had now made his way into a public park. He sat down on the first bench he found, for it was too troubling to try and walk and reminisce at the same time. He placed his hands over his face; such thoughts were exhausting. There was a light clicking noise by his ear.
Jet Black stood beside him, holding a gun to his neck. "Spike Spiegel, am I right?"
A bounty hunter. Spike grinned.