Disclaimer – I don't own this show, and that's all I'm going to say. I have my Ed keychain now! And the soundtrack to the movie!!
Content – I'm sticking to the basic content of the show… which means darkness, fight scenes, blood, cigarettes and sarcasm. This is totally Spike's point of view. And this specific chapter is going to happen on Mars. Like Earth has a blue sky with red sunsets, Mars has a red one with blue sunsets. (I read it in a science book, so HA! to anybody who thinks it's a dumb idea!)
Moonflower
Chapter 2
The sun streamed in through the open door, warming my back through my shirt. Beside my cheek sat a warming shot of bourbon, watery from the melted ice mixing with the liquor. I settled my cheek into a more comfortable place on my arm. My brain felt like it had been jostled from its wire attachments. I sighed. It never did me much good, to drink while I was on the job. But I was running out of ideas, and money. Every lead I had turned into some rumor that needed to be proven before I could move on with it. Once, a little old lady said she had seen him, and that he was black, nine feet tall and carried a pitchfork wherever he went. I had raised an eyebrow about this and mumbled something about "Farmer Shaq" before thanking her and going on my way. The days had been worthless.
I needed to get out of here, this bar, quick. Besides the fact that I needed to find the bountyhead before Faye came along and screwed it up, but I swore the bartender was making eyes at me. That kind of guy made me nervous. My head buzzed as I thought of Faye. Damnit, I always hate it when I drink.
I shifted, opening one eye, my right one. The bartender was wiping up spills from men worse intoxicated than me. I looked at him, the edges of his form blurring as I opened my other eye. Maybe I should ask him. He was a person who saw lots of people come and go. No, no wait. I am not having an encounter like I did on Callisto, I thought, then stood up and pulled my coat out from under my feet. I left a little money on the counter, to cover what large amount of liquor I had drunk in my time at the bar. Then I left, walking out with as much direction as I did when I entered.
The streets were busy with people as I entered the red filtered sunlight, away from the dark place that my drunken soul decided to pool. I stepped down the few steps, thin and narrow, so I skipped them two at a time. I lit a cigarette at the bottom.
Then wondered where Faye was.
It had been nearly five days since the Swordfish II had docked on Mars. I expected her around every corner, her plum highlighted head bobbing up from the shadows with an innocent grin, trademark of the mystical Cheshire Cat, who also had the habit of appearing without warning. She would be waving that deadly weapon of hers, her charming sense of tough sarcasm and radical moods, and she would be waving her gun, too.
- Jesus, I hate it when I drink…
Falling pearls…
I shook my head sharply. I hate it even more when I dream.
I began walking. I puffed my cigarette as I did. It would get my mind off of everything… the dream, the woman, the ache in my heels, the bartender, the fact that I wasn't lucky, the liquor in my belly, and the nagging memories.
A few more steps... boots on concrete…
It vaguely occurred to me that I was headed downtown. It was where I was staying, so it didn't matter, since I needed to get somewhere else fast. I felt disconnected and I needed to sleep it, and the bourbon, off. I looked up as I walked, not even caring if I was somehow walking into a void. The red sky was turning purple, a signal that the sky would soon turn into a cocktail of colors, mostly blue. Then night would come.
An impact was felt on my chest. Someone had bumped into me. She let out a cry as she fell to the ground, groceries splaying all around her as the brown bag capsized and spilled.
"Sorry!" my lips blurted out before I could think. Now I felt stupid, coiled inside as she sat on the ground, knees together as she glared up at me, lacquered lips pursed, golden hair thrown from its style. I nearly chuckled, she reminded me so much of too many women I already knew. I began scooping up her groceries, careful not to put tomatoes or peaches on the bottom. I hoisted the bag up into my arms and then extended a hand. "Here," I said. She accepted, and, as I pulled her from the Martian floor, her hair flashed in the filtered sun. And, in that moment, I saw she had Julia's hair, the waves of gold. But as I looked into her forgiving face with a string of hope spun into my heart, I saw her eyes were irises of black, and so the string became unraveled. To cover disappointment, I merely smiled before pulling her to her feet.
"The name's Maria."
Her accent was Romanian, touched with Spanish, and, even though she wanted to be soft, her words were tough skinned and still had a touch of their regular poison. Yeah, this planet had a way of doing that to you.
I handed her the grocery bag. "Spike," I said. She blinked at me, not fully understanding what I meant. "It's my name," I confirmed. "Oh?" she said and took a good long look at me, starting at my boots and going to the top of my hair. "What's an upper-class kind of guy like you doing in a dirt joint like this?" she questioned. I nearly laughed. Upper-class? Hardly. I was nearly broke, shared a ship with too many weird roommates, and the Swordfish II wasn't in that great of shape. "I'm a cowboy," I said. She gave me an understanding look. "So you're the guy after Derek Johnson…" she said and started walking, heeled boots clicking on the concrete. Wait a sec, how did she know?
"Hey Maria! Wait up!"
She did, and we walked together. We were side by side, but we didn't look at each other while we spoke, at least she never did. I looked over sometimes, but she never fixed those onyx eyes on my form.
"What did you mean by that?" I asked her.
"Just some rumors. You're after Derek for the bounty."
"You know him?"
"Not personally, but I know the name through affiliates."
"And who are those affiliates?"
She smiled and turned to me, those dark eyes gleaming. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you. You understand don't you?"
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. "Yeah. You're another Syndicate girl."
She raised her finger in protest. "Not exactly, just familiar ties. And don't scorn against the Syndicates, especially since you're ex-Syn yourself. But, I will warn you. You're being watched, Spike Spiegel."
Being watched?
"Hold on a second…" I said. She stopped. "Yes?" she didn't try to look innocent when she said it either. "Watched by who?"
She shook her head. "I already told you, knowing that information would get you killed, though they might just do that anyway. They'll probably try to get you tonight, since you're so close to Derek already. Sleep with your boots on, or whatever you cowboys do."
She smiled again. "Good. Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to depart. 'Bye," she said and waved. Then the crowd swallowed her whole. I sighed, then groaned. She had been the biggest lead in three days, after I had asked the grocer about it. Now, she was lost.
I spun on my heel. She would be seen again, since she had warned me of forces and powers I hadn't known about. She had some ties with the mafia of Mars, was somehow in their circle of comrades. I knew she was. I'd piss myself if she were a Red Dragon girl. Maybe she was, and maybe that's why she had Julia's hair. It had to be some kind of sick fetish for Vicious, to grab onto her hair and kiss her in the same savage manner he had once kissed beauty itself. And he probably made her close her eyes until he was done with her, because they weren't the right color. I shook the image out of my head. But whether she was a member of the Red Dragons or just a local gossip with the right names and numbers, she would be back. Until then, I would sleep with my boots on, so the rattlesnakes wouldn't bite at my heels.
I headed down the street, to the hotel where I was staying. I threw the cigarette to the ground before I pushed the door open. The meeting with Maria had frustrated me even more. I started towards my upstairs room.
"Hold on there, sir!" shouted the man behind the counter. I turned. "I have a message for you," he said, pulling open a drawer in his desk. He handed me a single white envelope. I took it. "Thanks," I said and gave a saluting wave and went back to going up the stairs.
I fell onto the bed, tired and shirtless now. I stared at the envelope. Who in the hell could've sent me a message? I held it a minute longer then ripped it open.
Inside was a single piece of paper, folded once in the middle.
"Try not to dream tonight."
That was all it said.
Falling pearls…
The sound of falling pearls…
"Oh damn…" I groaned and let my arm fall to the bed, note still between my fingers. I stared up at the ceiling, pondering why they monitored me. Bob had warned me of the red tape, but not of the mafia or their wandering beauties with mysterious clues and comrades. Why was Derek Johnson so damn special?
Then the ceiling blurred. My eyes became heavy as slumber overtook me. And then I slept.
Tell me what you think!
