I don't own Cowboy Bebop and I don't own the song 'Dark Eyes'. By the way, 'dark eyes' is an awesome instrumental by the independent group, Devotchka. Support them, they are cool.

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A few months later....

It was a smokey bar, in one of the more seedier areas of Mars. The woman singing her sad love song, looked as though she had seen better days, but that was all right, the occupants of the bar didn't mind too much. They were just as worn out and sad as she was, many were so drunk they couldn't even remember their own names. Spike fit right in.

Even though he was too young to drink legally, Spike was already drunk enough to think that up was down and down was up. At least that's what he was pretending. Normally he would be just as drunk as the rest of them, but tonight he needed to make some money. He needed to be on top of things tonight. Can't swindle money when you're drunk off your ass.

He smirked as he found his victim. The dude thought he was king of the hill, and was steadily picking off the competition at the pool table. "Good," Spike thought, "he's over confident." He observed the man a few more moments. The guy was tall, built like heavyweight wrestler. He had a mean glint in his eye, obviously thought himself tough and not one to be crossed easily. Spike smiled evilly, this man would know humility tonight. He put on a giddy smile as he sauntered drunkenly over to the "victim," feeling oddly like Paul Newman from 'The Hustler.' That was another movie that he had watched with Jack. Spike's eyes hardened a moment when he remembered Jack, then they softened again, going back to their acquired drunken stupor.

"I'll thplay you." Spike sputtered out as he stumbled then leaned against the pool table.

"Oh, you will, will you?" The man said with a smirk on his face. Spike fumbled around in his pocket for a bit, eventually pulling out a crumpled 100 wulong bill. The man shrugged confident that this drunk kid would be sorry later. "All right kid, you can break."

Spike managed to hide his smirk. "Yep, way too over confident," he thought. He grabbed a cue stick from another table, and almost lost his act when he noticed a man staring at him from a darkened booth in the corner of the bar. The man was smirking at him, as if he knew what Spike was up to. Spike became a bit nervous when he realized who the guy was. "Red dragon," he thought when he saw the man's jacket.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Spike's pool opponent was shaking his shoulder. Spike shook him off.

"Yeah, Oi'm thfine. Jus' a liddle sthleepy. I'm okay," he drawled, act back in place. He leaned against the pool table and took his shot. He missed the cue ball completely, and had to take another shot at it. This time he hit it, but he hit the ball crooked and it moved only a few inches. "Oopths." Spike said, bringing his hand up to the back of his head. The other man smirked, and moved to take his shot. He hit the cue ball and got three balls to go in. Spike chuckled and said, "Hey, you're prethy good. Wanna upth the shtakeths?"

The man laughed, "Hey, sure, whatever you want, you loony." He chuckled some more, "How about a thousand wulongs?" Spike stuck his hand out for the man to shake. "Sthure."

The man took his shot, but accidentally shot the cue ball into a pocket. Spike yawned, happy this was going quicker than he thought it would. He studied the table for a few moments, figuring out angles, and what would be the fastest way to win. He took his shot and six balls went in. "Wow, I didn'th even know you couldth do that..." Spike giggled a bit and leaned on his cue stick, waiting for the guy to take his turn. "Hey, dumbass, it's your turn," the man said, slightly peeved that Spike didn't even know what was going on and was somehow winning. Spike went again, getting in two more balls. Soon the only ball left was the eight ball. The other guy was fuming. Spike ignored him and took the last shot. It went in. "Well, I guess you owe me a thousand wulongs," Spike said as he held out his hand to the man.

"Damn you!" he yelled, obviously wanting to kick Spike's ass, but since he noticed that there were several Red Dragons hanging around the bar he instead grudgingly shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a thousand wulongs. Spike took it and walked over to the bar to get drunk for real. He smirked as he pulled out the guy's wallet that he had lifted from him while they played pool, and pulled out a few small bills to pay for his drinks. He lit up a cigarette and remembered when he was younger and how Jack would always get really pissed off whenever he stole something. Since he hadn't done it in so long, Spike had thought that he wouldn't be able to do it as well anymore, but apparently pick pocketing was like riding a bike. Once you learned how to do it, you never forgot.



Session 5: Dark Eyes



Spike walked out of the bar, only to run into the guy he had hustled earlier. The man glowers down at him as Spike shoves his hands into his pockets, and spits out his cigarette.

"What do you want?" Spike asks, knowing full well what he wanted.

The man tensed, bringing his hands in fists to his sides. Suddenly he grabs Spike by the shirt. "You damned punk! I want my money back!"

Spike kicks him in the shin and the guy lets go of him. "Sorry, man, but a guy's gotta eat," he says, and begins to walk away. He hears the man come up behind him and turns around. The guy rushes him. "Then eat this!" he screams as he pulls back his arm, planning smashing his face in. Spike merely steps aside and sticks out his foot, tripping the man, causing him to go crashing into some trash cans across the alley. Spike watches as he gets back up with a smirk on his face. Damn it feels great to be working off some steam. The guy rushes him again and throws another punch at Spike's face. Spike evades him once again, but this time he follows up with a kick to the guy's back. The man falls down, straight onto his nose, which begins to bleed profusely. Determined, the man gets back up to face Spike again.

"You don't give up easily do you?" Spike says easily as he watches him climb to his feet. The man growls and picks up a pipe approaching Spike slowly since just running at him hadn't worked earlier. Suddenly he swings the pipe. Spike narrowly dodges it and punches the guy in the gut, following with a kick to the guy's head. The man goes down again, but this time he doesn't get back up.

Spike shrugs, pulls out a cigarette and lights it. Then from out of the shadows comes clapping. clap clap clap clap clap... Spike jumps and almost drops his cigarette. He whirls around and sees the Red Dragon that had been watching him from the bar.

"I thought there was more to you than what met the eye. I'm quite glad to be proven right. Nicely done, by the way." He holds out his hand to Spike who looks at it as if it might be some kind of snake. The Red Dragon smirks. "I suppose you're wondering who I am. My name is Michel LeRouge, but most call me Vicious. This is because I am a beast."

Vicious looks at Spike, gadging his response. "Anyway, we could use someone of your...talents working for us."

Spike looks at him confused. "You're offering me a job?"

Vicious smirks,"You are not known as being affiliated with the Red Dragons. It would be most beneficial for us, and you too, if you worked as a spy for us."

"You want me to be a spy for you? But you don't even know me, how do you know that I'm trust worthy?" Spike asks, thinking that this is just getting weirder and weirder.

"I don't. But I'm sure you're smart enough to know what will happen to you if you betray us."

"Hmmmmm...." Spike thinks for a moment. He takes a puff off his cigarette. "What's the real reason you came out here? I'm sure that you Red Dragons have better things to do in your free time than go looking around for potential spies."

Smirking, Vicious replies, "I like your style. I saw your little 'performance' inside and decided to see how you would handle yourself, so I paid that kindly gentleman that you see lying there to beat you up. He seemed quite amiable towards the idea."

"You paid him to beat me up?" Spike asks, surprise apparent on his face.

"Yes. So, do you want a job or not?" Vicious asks.

Spike ponders this for a few seconds. "How much do you guys pay?" he asks a smirk on his face.

"Oh, enough I'm sure. Meet me here tomorrow and I'll give you the details." Vicious smirks and turns around, heading into the darkness of the alley. Spike watches him go with an odd look on his face.

"Is that guy actually carrying a katana?"



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Spike weaved his way through the silent city, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his hands in his pockets. "Well, this was one eventful night," he thought to himself. "First an easy hustle, and now I have a well paying job. Working for a syndicate no less." He chuckled. "Not just any syndicate, the Red Dragons. Boy, have I managed to get myself into a mess. I wonder what Jack would have to say about all of this." He smiled, thinking about Jack. "He was the only person who really gave a shit about me. Took me in, gave me a home for ten years, treated me like I was the son he never had." Spike frowned. "And I couldn't even cry for him. I couldn't even shed one tear."

He began walking faster, then began running, almost like he was trying to out race his thoughts. He remembered when he had found Jack dying, telling him to find love. "How can I love when I can't even cry?" Spike thought, slowing down. "All I am is an empty shell. Whoever the real Spike is....whoever I am....probably died long before Jack ever found me."

He stopped completely, and sat down on the curb, searching his brain for memories of who he was before. Searching for the lost emotions that he felt he lacked. And he remembered...his mother. She looked a lot like him he guessed, same wild blackish/greenish hair, same lanky build. But she had green eyes. Vivid green eyes that loved him with everything she had. And then Spike remembered the night she died, the night that had made him an orphan.

Men had burst into their small apartment yelling about someone named Reed. His mother had screamed at them that she hadn't seen him in years, that he had left her. But they didn't believe her. Frightened, young Spike had hid underneath the bed and listened as they interrogated her and threatened to kill her if she didn't tell them where Reed was right now. Young Spike had tried to fight against his fear and go help her, but in the end his terror won out and he remained underneath the bed. Suddenly he heard two gunshots and a body collapsing. "Shit! We weren't supposed to kill her! You idiot! We'll be killed for this!" he heard one of them yell, heard the door open and then slam shut. Fairly sure that they were now gone, Spike had wandered into the living room and found his mother lying on the floor. "Mama?" he asked, fearing that she was dead. However, she turned over and tried to sit up. "We have to get out of here, Jon," she said, as she pulled herself up, using the couch to help her. She took Spike's hand and led him out of the apartment. Somehow they managed to make it outside, but Spike's mother was running out of time. She collapsed in the alley. Sometime during all of this, it had begun to rain. Spike took her head and put it in his lap. "Jonathan....I'm so sorry," she said to him, and then was still. Spike began crying.

When he woke up, Spike realized that he had spent the entire night outside on the curb.